Hiding in Plain Sight

by Susan Lewis

  Maureen shook her head as Andee passed her a glass and sat down too.

  Picking up her mother’s mobile again Andee tried calling the number, and wasn’t surprised to find herself greeted by an announcement stating the mailbox was full and unable to take any more messages. She was faintly relieved, since she hadn’t considered what she was going to say. Returning to the text she tapped in a reply, speaking the words aloud. I’m looking forward to seeing you too. Where are you staying?

  Putting the phone down between them, Andee sipped her wine and stared at the mobile as they waited for a response.

  Long minutes ticked silently by.

  ‘She’s not going to answer,’ Maureen predicted.

  Andee messaged again. Do you have my address? Shall I send it to you?

  Still no reply.

  ‘Maybe she’s turned her phone off,’ Maureen ventured, ‘or she’s in a bad reception area.’

  Since either was possible, Andee put the phone aside and refilled their glasses. ‘Even though she looked the same,’ she said, ‘apart from the hair, I’m still finding it hard to connect the woman I saw in France with my timid little sister.’

  ‘She wasn’t timid,’ Maureen said emphatically.

  Andee was surprised by this. It was how she remembered Penny, for the most part, but maybe that was because she’d shut out everything else. Memory often did that to a missing or dead person; it rubbed away the faults and turned qualities into almost saintly distinctions.

  ‘You’re both different people now,’ Maureen reminded her.

  While conceding the point, Andee said, ‘The woman I saw seemed very confident, very sure of herself. That wasn’t Penny.’

  Maureen stared into her glass as she sank into her own thoughts, leaving Andee to wonder what they were, if she would even share them. She was about to ask when Maureen said, ‘I sometimes wonder how well you knew her.’

  Taken aback and slightly affronted, Andee waited for her mother to continue, but Maureen only sighed and drank more wine.

  Andee found herself remembering the part of Penny’s letter that had haunted her with the harshest of guilt for all these years. I know I shouldn’t say this, but sometimes I hate her for being so much better than I am at everything. No one ever seems to notice me when she’s in the room. It’s like I become invisible and I know she wishes I would go away. So that’s what I’m going to do.

  Which meant that whatever had happened to Penny had been Andee’s fault, or so she’d believed for most of her life.

  Perhaps her mother did too.

  Did she still believe it?

  ‘Why do you think I didn’t know her?’ Andee asked guardedly.

  Maureen shook her head slowly. It was a while before she said, ‘You were just very different.’ Not close the way sisters should be; you were never very interested in her. Though Maureen didn’t say the words Andee could hear them, and felt undone by how wretched, even resentful they made her feel.

  ‘We had so little in common,’ she said. ‘I loved sports, she hated them; I didn’t have much of a temper, hers was terrible; she laughed at things that weren’t funny, at least not to me, and we were young. We had different friends, different interests. There was nothing unusual about that.’ She wished she didn’t sound so defensive.

  ‘No, of course not,’ Maureen agreed.

  ‘Then what are you saying?’

  Maureen sighed. ‘I’m not sure,’ she replied. ‘I guess, her being in touch is making me remember a lot of things I haven’t thought about in years. It must be happening for you too.’

  Of course it was; however, the moody sister she’d loved and yelled at, played with and rejected, cuddled and slapped, was impossible to connect with the woman she’d seen in France. The fourteen-year-old girl had gone for ever, so there was no point thinking about who she’d been then. It was who Penny was now that mattered, and how they were going to go forward once she was back in their lives.

  Chapter Three

  The following morning, after speaking for some time with Graeme on the phone, Andee arrived downstairs to find a note from her mother saying she’d gone to her yoga class.

  Why don’t you meet me at the Seafront Café for coffee at eleven? she’d added in a PS. Text to let me know. I’m on library duty between twelve and three.

  Relieved that Maureen was keeping busy, Andee messaged to say she’d be at the café, and realising she should find something to do as well she rang Blake, Graeme’s business partner, to find out if he needed any help at the shop.

  ‘How soon can you get here?’ Blake replied eagerly. ‘Jenny’s due back around eleven, but I need to go out now to make a delivery I promised yesterday.’

  ‘I’m on my way,’ she assured him, and retrieving her keys from the dresser drawer, she grabbed an apple from the fruit bowl and locked up behind her.

  To her surprise, as she started to reverse out of the drive she found a motorcyclist blocking the way. Giving a brief toot on the horn to alert him to her need to exit she watched him in the rear-view mirror, certain he’d move out of the way, but he didn’t.

  Assuming he hadn’t heard her through his helmet she tooted more firmly, but all he did was rev his engine and stay put.

  Wondering what his problem was, she was about to get out of the car when a group of hikers strolled out of nearby Sheep Lane and he suddenly took off around the green.

  A few minutes later Andee was driving along the narrow country road that snaked and dipped across the headland towards the edge of town, when she realised the motorcyclist was behind her. She couldn’t be sure if he was purposely following her, but she had a feeling he was. Then he was so close that she was afraid to brake in case he went into the back of her. She speeded up and only just managed to swerve into a passing space as another car came around a bend towards her.

  Once the other car had gone she waited for the motorcyclist to overtake, but he simply sat on her tail apparently waiting for her to move first. She stayed where she was, watching him in the wing mirror, realising he was trying to intimidate her. That she couldn’t see his face through the black visor of his helmet was as annoying to her as the fact that he was too close for her to get his registration number.

  Making sure her doors were locked, she lowered the driver’s window and waved him on.

  He stayed where he was, and revved aggressively.

  Andee’s police instinct kicked in and, suspecting that this might be a mugging, she put her car into reverse and waited for him to spot the lights. Though he must have seen them he still didn’t move, so pressing a foot on the accelerator she began edging back. Only when her bumper connected with the front wheel of his bike did he suddenly swerve out into the road and race past with a deafening roar.

  He might have thought he was too fast for her to get the number, but if he had, he was wrong.

  After entering it into her phone she drove on, half expecting to find him waiting around the next bend, but ten minutes later she was driving into town still apparently free of him.

  As soon as she was parked she rang Barry Britten at Kesterly police station. Since ending her days as a detective sergeant with the Dean Valley force she’d stayed in regular contact with her former colleagues, mainly thanks to the freelance investigations she’d been persuaded into by Helen Hall, one of the town’s more prominent lawyers. Whether her old boss, DI Terence Gould, had instructed his team to help her where they could, or whether they were just happy to anyway, she had no idea. She guessed the former, since Gould was regularly on her case to come back into the fold.

  That certainly wasn’t a part of her plan these days. She was very happy working with Graeme – she’d even completed a six-week Introduction to Interior Design course at the local college, and was intending to return for further instruction after the summer break. No, searching for missing people, especially children, was definitely behind her.

  What lay ahead, with her sister coming back, was another matter altogether.


  After giving Barry the motorcycle’s details, she walked through the busy arcade towards the cobbled square where Graeme’s antiques shop was located. The thought of Penny and what might happen in the next few days was making her feel very strange inside, and now this business with the motorcycle was throwing her off even more.

  She didn’t really think the motorcyclist was anything to do with her sister, but for a moment during their standoff the suspicion of a connection had been there. Even now the thought was wheedling its way around her normally trusty common sense, as though trying to insist there was no such thing as coincidence, when she knew very well that there was.

  But why on earth would Penny, or anyone else come to that, send a motorcyclist to try and intimidate her? It was ludicrous even to think it.

  Taking out her phone as it rang, she saw it was Barry and clicked on.

  ‘The bike was stolen,’ he told her. ‘We’ve had a spate of thefts in the area. Kids mostly. They use them to mug people stupid enough to get out of their cars to find out what’s going on.’

  Since that had been her first suspicion Andee relaxed, and after thanking Barry she rang off, chiding herself for the uncharacteristic paranoia that had attributed the incident to her sister. Just because Penny had made contact the way she had in France, and was behaving oddly over texts and phone calls, didn’t mean the motorbike had anything to do with her. Penny might be a stranger, but she wouldn’t be out to intimidate Andee in that way.

  Maureen was sitting on a bench in the changing rooms of the Downley leisure centre, only distantly aware of the thump and whirr of the spinning class going on in the studio next door. Her combined yoga and Pilates session had started several minutes ago, but she had yet to change into her leotard and leggings, or even open her locker.

  She was staring blindly towards the mirrors and dryers, none in use at the moment, no one there to distract her from seeing back through the years to their lives in Chiswick, before Penny had vanished. And as the stress and anxiety of those times emerged from the past, the despair, the love and confusion followed by horror and grief began to feel as real now as they had been then.

  Do you remember Smoky, the kitten? He was so sweet, wasn’t he?

  Why had Penny brought him up now, and in the way she had? Yes, Maureen remembered him. How could she ever forget?

  The questions, the sickening shock of what had happened to the kitten were all over her, pushing any sense of today aside. She could see the dear little creature as clear as day, curling up on Andee’s bed, and Penny becoming incensed by the disloyalty, even though Andee hadn’t been there.

  ‘He’s not hers, he’s mine,’ she’d shrieked, snatching him up.

  Startled and frightened, the kitten had scratched her, and Maureen had never forgotten the look that had come into Penny’s eyes.

  Remembering that time, Maureen felt her throat turn dry.

  Yesterday, having wondered how well Andee had known her sister, Maureen had to admit that there were times she’d doubted how well she herself had known Penny. She’d loved her, of course, with all her heart; there had never been any doubt about that, at least not in her mind, but in Penny’s … Had she ever really known what was going on in Penny’s mind? One day she would be like any other girl her age, the next she could be sulky and withdrawn, defensive or aggressive, even violent.

  She and Andee had argued a lot, even fought physically at times. Andee had always been the first to make up, while Penny, appearing quick to forgive, had been unable to hide, at least from Maureen, the way she was still brooding inside. She’d been full of contradictions and self-doubt – and consumed by a longing to be more like her sister. She’d adored Andee, while resenting her deeply. As Andee had progressed through her teens she had become increasingly irritated by Penny’s sulks and outbursts. She’d accuse her of self-pity, and tell her to get a life or she’d never have any friends.

  Penny hadn’t always been without friends, though it was true she’d never managed to keep them for long, even when she was small. However, Maureen could remember pre-teen sleepovers at their house when she’d hear Penny giggling along with the others, sharing secrets, trying out make-up and creeping downstairs to raid the fridge for a midnight feast. She’d seemed happy and carefree during those times, just like any other young girl her age. Maureen had listened to them chattering away about pop bands and boys and who they were going to marry when they were older. Penny’s crush had usually been on someone Andee was interested in, another source of irritation for Andee that had often ended in tears.

  Penny was thirteen the first time she’d taken off. She’d said she was going to stay with a new girl at school called Madeleine, but it had turned out that Madeleine didn’t exist and for three days no one knew where Penny was. Maureen still didn’t know for certain where she’d been during that time, but she was sure her husband, David, had found out. He’d brought Penny home and taken her into his study for a very serious talking-to. Penny had come out swollen-eyed, angry and determined not to be contrite. She’d apologised to her mother, clearly because she’d been told to, and no one had referred to it again until the next time it happened.

  ‘You have to tell me where she’s going,’ Maureen had shouted at David after he’d brought Penny home again.

  ‘The least said soonest mended,’ he snapped. ‘She’s grounded for the next month and all privileges are to be taken away.’

  Penny had been furious with her father, but he’d remained unmoved even after she’d calmed down and tried to apologise.

  ‘She’s crying out for attention,’ Maureen had told him, ‘can’t you see that?’

  ‘Well she won’t get it if she runs away,’ he pointed out. ‘Please don’t try to take her side, Maureen. I can assure you I’m not being unreasonable, and she knows it.’

  Neither Andee’s nor Maureen’s efforts to persuade Penny to tell them where she’d been had ever worked. Penny remained as close-lipped about it as her father, while her eyes seemed to glitter with the power of knowing something they didn’t. That was until the sense of triumph finally turned to tears, and a horrible, black depression swallowed her into a pit of mumbling despair.

  ‘Maureen? Are you all right?’

  Startled, Maureen looked up to find a younger, sweet-faced woman stooping over her, her gentle blue eyes showing concern. ‘Sorry,’ Maureen muttered, collecting up her bag. ‘Miles away.’

  ‘You look pale,’ the woman persisted. ‘Can I get you something?’

  ‘No, no really, I’m fine.’ She knew this woman, but what was her name? She looked around, and found herself unable to connect with where she was.

  ‘Maureen? What is it?’

  Maureen shook her head. ‘I should go,’ she said, and leaving the woman staring worriedly after her she rushed outside to find her car.

  ‘Another coffee while you wait?’

  Andee glanced at her watch and looked up at Fliss, the owner of the Seafront Café, whom she’d known for years and liked a lot. ‘I guess I could,’ she replied. ‘I don’t know what’s keeping her. She definitely said eleven and it’s half past already.’

  ‘You’ve tried calling, obviously?’

  ‘And left several messages. It’s not like her to be late.’

  ‘Well, the road’s up over by the leisure centre, so she could be stuck in traffic.’

  Andee smiled gratefully and pushed her mug across the table. ‘Better make it decaff this time,’ she said, realising that her appetite for a biscotti or even a muffin had been swallowed up by concern.

  Considering how uptight and distracted her mother was feeling right now, the failure to turn up, or message to say she was on her way, was worrying Andee more and more as the minutes ticked by.

  She rang Graeme, needing to talk to someone, but she was pushed through to voicemail and the same happened when she tried her mother again.

  Alayna texted to say she had the tickets for the Strictly show, and a few minutes passed as they went back
and forth with details. Next came a message from the lawyer, Helen Hall, asking if they could get together when Andee was back from France. It was quickly followed by a text from Graeme’s sisters attaching a photograph of themselves waving to her from a gondola in Venice.

  Remembering that Luke had emailed earlier asking if his pictures of the baby rhino had arrived, she replied saying she hadn’t seen them yet but would open them as soon as she got back to her computer.

  By now it was a quarter to twelve. She’d finished her second coffee and anger at herself was climbing all over her concern. Why on earth hadn’t she put Penny’s number into her own phone as well as her mother’s? What a stupid oversight for someone like her. Except what was she saying here, that Penny had come along and kidnapped their mother?

  No, she wasn’t thinking that at all. However, it was possible that Penny had been in touch again and the two of them had made an arrangement to meet.

  Her mother would have let her know if that were the case.

  Maybe Maureen had gone to Graeme’s shop, though why on earth she’d do that when she had no idea that Andee had been helping out between nine and eleven, Andee had no idea.

  ‘Blake,’ she said into the phone, ‘I don’t suppose my mother’s wandered over your way, has she?’

  ‘I haven’t seen her,’ he replied. ‘Should I be looking out for her? It’s Andee,’ she heard him tell someone with him. ‘Have you seen Maureen this morning?’ To Andee he said, ‘Hang on, Jenny wants to speak to you.’

  A moment later Blake’s wife was saying, ‘I saw your mother at the gym earlier. I’d just come out of my spin class and found her sitting on her own in the changing rooms.’

  Feeling a twist in her heart, Andee said, ‘Did you speak to her?’

  ‘Yes, but to be honest she didn’t seem … I’m not sure … Well, she didn’t seem to know who I was.’

  Getting to her feet, Andee said, ‘Was she still there when you left?’

  ‘No, she rushed off saying she had to go.’

  ‘She was due to meet me at eleven and she hasn’t shown up,’ Andee told her.