The Hidden Girl

by Louise Millar

  She waited for Rita to ask how the move had gone. ‘Will you tell him, love, the chicken only had a day on it. If he tells them, they might send a new one next week. Save him a few pennies. They did last time.’

  Hannah’s ache for Will grew. ‘I will, Rita. Listen, you’ll have to come and see us. Stay for a few days.’

  ‘Thanks, love,’ Rita said, even though they both knew she wouldn’t. She hadn’t even managed to attend Nan Riley’s funeral.

  When they had said their goodbyes, Hannah sat, not knowing what to do next.

  In the scullery she saw the last can of paint for Tornley Hall.

  It was not a cheap, DIY colour-matched version, like the grey for the cupboards. It was expensive and carefully picked, the colour of sunshine.

  Hannah stood up.

  Fuck Will. The social workers were coming on Friday.

  She had to keep going. All she could do was pray that he would get her message and see sense.

  Hannah spent the rest of the day preparing the second bedroom for decorating. The room, which had been Peter Horseborrow’s, was a little smaller than theirs, but still a fantastic size for a child. It had a pretty window out onto the front lawn and a small Victorian fireplace, a built-in wooden wardrobe with shelves and a stripped wooden floor. It was in fairly good condition. There was a faded rectangle of lighter wood on the floor, where Peter’s single bed must have stood for many decades, and a similar one in the middle of the room that might have been under a rug. There were lots of small cracks in the ceiling, but only one large one on the white walls. Hannah went to examine it, hoping there was enough filler left.

  As she crossed onto the faded area of wood, her foot hit a loose floorboard. It flipped up an inch and she stumbled.

  That wasn’t safe. She’d have to nail it down before the little girl’s social workers came.

  Every surface in here would have to be perfect.

  An hour later Hannah was up a ladder filling the ceiling cracks, when she saw a police car passing down the lane.

  Blood rushed to her cheeks. That was it – there was no going back now.

  She ran upstairs to spy through the attic skylight. Frank and Tiggy were on the verandah, looking agitated. Tiggy’s hands swatted the air. The metal gates opened and the police car entered. Abruptly Tiggy and Frank’s stance changed. They waved cheerfully.

  The police officers got out. One was around Laurie’s age – her school friend, Jonathan, presumably. There was an intense discussion. Hannah creaked open the skylight to see if she could hear it, but then the police officers entered the bungalow and the door shut.

  Hannah bit her fingernail. Would Tiggy and Frank believe it was a passing male driver from Thurrup who’d reported the assault on Elvie, and not her?

  To occupy her mind, she continued filling the ceiling. Ten minutes later the police car passed her driveway again, going in the opposite direction, and appeared in the distance gliding up to Madeleine’s farmyard.

  Oh God. The shit would hit the fan now.

  She carried on working, trying not to think about the discussion taking place right now across the field.

  It was an hour later, just as she was finishing on the last of the ceiling cracks, that a vehicle pulled up down below. It was Laurie’s blue people-carrier.

  Maybe she had news.

  Hannah went to let her in, expecting to see Laurie’s cheerful expression from yesterday.

  It had gone.

  ‘Do you mind if I carry on upstairs while we talk, or the filler will dry wrong?’ Hannah asked, uncertainly.

  Laurie followed her up to the child’s bedroom. She said nothing as Hannah climbed back up the ladder.

  ‘So what happened?’ Hannah asked, flattening out the paste she’d just applied.

  Laurie’s eyes scanned the bedroom. Hannah saw her looking at the box of childsafe locks and felt strangely exposed – her hopes laid bare. Laurie put down her bag and settled on the floor. ‘Er, Jonathan’s pissed off at me is what happened, Hannah.’

  ‘Why?’ She realized Laurie was avoiding eye contact.

  ‘Well, he went to see the Mortrens next door, and said that a man from Thurrup had reported seeing Elvie assaulted in Madeleine’s field.’

  ‘And?’

  Laurie picked at a knot in the floorboard. ‘They said they didn’t know who he was talking about.’

  Hannah hesitated, her trowel mid-air. ‘What do you mean?

  ‘They said they didn’t know who Elvie Mortren was.’

  Hannah put the trowel down. ‘Of course they know who she is!’ she exclaimed. ‘Maybe her name’s different. Tiggy said they’d always called her Elvie, but maybe her name’s Elvira or something.’

  ‘No, Hannah. They didn’t know her at all.’

  Hannah searched Laurie’s face for the alliance of yesterday and couldn’t find it. ‘Sorry, Laurie, but that’s mad. They have a daughter. Did he ask them that?’

  ‘They said they didn’t.’

  The idea was so ridiculous that Hannah laughed. ‘But they do, Laurie! Why would they lie? Your friend’s a police officer. That’s stupid. He can easily check the records and see that she lives there.’

  Laurie nodded. ‘He did, and there’s no other resident at that house. Just Margaret and Francis Mortren. He said they were trying to be helpful, but they had no idea who he was talking about. They don’t even know anyone of that description.’

  Hannah climbed down, not believing what she was hearing. ‘But why would they say that? I met her.’

  Laurie’s eyes flicked away. ‘Then he went to the farm, and the cottages in Tornley, and everyone said the same thing. Nobody knows her.’

  Hannah banged her trowel on the windowsill. ‘Laurie! This is crazy! Elvie was here. Tiggy and Frank sent her to cut the grass. I spoke to her. Will saw her.’

  ‘Will was here when she cut the grass?’ Laurie said, surprised.

  Hannah thought. ‘No, he was in London then. But he definitely saw her. He told me he offered a woman who sounded like Elvie a lift on his way to the station. She was carrying something heavy.’

  Laurie looked confused. ‘So he has spoken to her?’

  Hannah put her hands on her forehead, frustrated. ‘Not really, no. He said she ignored him and kept walking.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘I don’t know why! Because she has learning difficulties? Because she was scared of him? I have no idea. She hardly speaks to me.’

  Laurie scratched her head. ‘Hannah, is it possible you’ve got mixed up? One thing they all said is that farms around here employ foreign casual workers. Maybe you thought this woman had special needs, when actually she couldn’t speak English? Maybe that’s why she ignored Will? Maybe you misheard her name even?’

  Hannah had to stop herself throwing the trowel at the wall. ‘Laurie, please! Her name is Elvie, and Tiggy sent her round here. Tiggy told me she’d had a difficult birth. I spoke to Elvie. She made a fire in my garden. She ate my sandwiches.’ She pointed to the windows. ‘She cleaned those. I gave her a bath, and she was covered in bruises. And what I said happened.’ She pointed. ‘In that field over there. I am not mad.’

  ‘You gave her a bath?’

  ‘Yes, in the middle of the night. She was filthy. Why is this so difficult to believe?’

  She saw that Laurie’s legs were pointing towards the door. ‘I’m just confused, Hannah. So, Frank and Tiggy said she was their daughter?’

  ‘Yes, they—’ Hannah stopped. Had they? ‘Oh. Or … Hang on. I suppose I assumed that she …’

  Her mind whirred backwards. She had simply assumed Elvie was their daughter. That she’d been in Spain with them that first week. If that wasn’t true, could Elvie have been here all the time? Images flew at Hannah: of Madeleine shouting at a dark figure in the snow that first week. Was that Elvie, too? And then of the looming figure in the sitting room under the blanket.

  More things: the snow-penis meant to frighten her out of the house; the shadow at
the window.

  ‘Oh my God! Of course. That makes complete sense,’ Hannah said, marching to the door. ‘Hang on.’

  She ran up to the attic and returned with a bin bag. She pulled out a dusty T-shirt and jogging trousers. A familiar sour smell rose up.

  ‘These are hers – Elvie’s. I’ve just realized. I found someone sleeping rough in the house when Will was in London, and I thought it was a man …’ Her eyes opened wide. ‘No. Wait. Dax said it was a man. But I think it was Elvie. She escaped out of the window, and we nailed it shut.’

  Laurie looked pained. ‘Who nailed what shut?’

  ‘Me and Dax. The side-window.’

  ‘What did Will say?’

  Hannah rubbed her face. ‘I didn’t tell him. I thought he’d make me call the police and it would mess things up, with Barbara coming.’

  She saw the uncertainty on Laurie’s face.

  Hannah thought about all the people she and the charity had helped abroad, and who depended on Hannah, Jane and the others believing their story. Now she finally knew – really knew, for the first time – how they felt.

  She also knew how frantic people could become when no one believed them, and she forced herself to take a breath, trying to sound calm. ‘Laurie, I know this sounds mad, but everything I’m saying is true. And I need you and Will to believe me.’

  Laurie bit her lip.

  Hannah continued. ‘Frank and Tiggy sent a woman they – not me – called Elvie to cut my grass. They know who she is. I saw Madeleine assaulting this same woman. And I woke up and found her wandering around the house. We spoke – in English – and she was very upset, and dirty and hungry, and I helped her. Dax knew who she was, too. He said Elvie had tantrums. Why they’re all denying it, I don’t know. Maybe she is Frank and Tiggy’s daughter, and they’re scared I’ll tell social services that they left her alone, and that someone will put her in assisted housing. Maybe that’s why they don’t have her registered as living there. Maybe they’re getting too old to cope with her, but don’t want to lose her.’

  Laurie shifted on the floor. ‘Hannah.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘It’s not that I don’t believe that’s what you think happened. It’s just …’

  ‘What?’

  She pointed at the walls of the bedroom. ‘I don’t know. You’re clearly under strain. Do you think, maybe, it’s possible that you’re just so anxious about the adoption you’re …’ she paused.

  Please, Hannah thought, don’t say it.

  ‘… I don’t know – the mind does weird things. I know when I saw a bereavement counsellor after Nan died, she said grief can be like a car crash to the brain. People muddle things up. And I know you didn’t lose a baby last summer, Hannah – as in a baby died – but maybe losing that little boy, when you’d set your heart so much on adopting him, felt like a massive loss and …’

  Hannah thought about the little red-haired girl in the photo. She was fading in front of her eyes.

  She struggled to stay polite. ‘Laurie, listen, for my work I’ve sat and listened to people telling me incredible stories that are so unbelievable, even I didn’t believe them at first. But I am telling you the truth. Tiggy and Frank are covering something up about Elvie, and Madeleine is hurting her. And Dax and the rest of Madeleine’s family are lying about me, and what I did, to protect her. Can you please ask Jonathan to try again?’

  Laurie got up off the floor. ‘Hannah, Jonathan wanted to know who the parent at the nursery was. I think he thought it was someone winding me up. I can’t ask him again.’ She dusted herself off. ‘Right. Listen, I have to get back. If you want my advice, you need to forget about this woman for now. It’s not your business. From what I can see, your business is talking to Will, and starting your family.’

  ‘She’s called Elvie,’ Hannah said quietly.

  Laurie sighed and walked out.

  Hannah spent the rest of the afternoon sanding the ceiling cracks and the rough window frame, her head buzzing.

  She ran back over all of the details, checking that Laurie wasn’t right.

  Elvie definitely spoke English.

  Tiggy and Frank were definitely lying.

  She was so distracted that when the window was finished and she moved the ladder to fill the crack on the wall, she forgot about the loose floorboard from earlier on. As she climbed up, the ladder leg dipped down, nearly toppling her over.

  ‘Great! That’s just what you need now,’ she said out loud. ‘A broken neck.’ She went to fetch the hammer and nails from the toolbox by the window.

  Outside, the light was starting to fade.

  She stopped and stared at the garden below. The garage doors were wide open.

  Her heart leapt. Was Will back?

  Dropping the hammer, she ran down and flung open the front door.

  Disappointed, she saw the driveway was empty. It could be Elvie, though. At least, if she found Elvie, that would be a start to Will and Laurie believing her.

  ‘Elvie?’ Hannah called, approaching the garage. She scanned the dusky shadows for the looming shape of her. It still smelt of the donkey.

  She pressed the light switch, ready to peer up on the roof shelf. There was a click, but no light.

  Too late, she saw glass on the ground under the light fitting and heard a scrape of metal.

  Hannah turned.

  Madeleine and Dax were pulling the garage doors shut behind them.

  ‘What are you doing!’ she yelled. She tried to push herself out of the gap between the closing doors, but Dax blocked her way.

  ‘We’s bringing you a welcome gift,’ Madeleine said, slamming them shut.

  They towered over her in the dark garage.

  She backed off, the threat clear. Her voice trembled. ‘Let me out now, or I’ll call the police.’

  ‘Found your phone, have ya?’ Dax asked.

  Hannah touched the wall to steady herself. As her eyes adjusted to the gloomy light, she could see the likeness now. The height and broad shoulders, and Madeleine’s grey hair, which could once have been black, like Dax’s.

  ‘You need to keep your nose out of our business,’ Madeleine said, prodding at her.

  Hannah glared. ‘Well, that won’t be difficult, will it, as the person I saw you beating doesn’t seem to exist, does she?’

  ‘Who’s that then?’ Madeleine asked Dax.

  ‘Some vagrant, I expect.’

  He stepped forward. Hannah tried not to flinch.

  ‘How’s that adoption of yours going?’

  Why had she ever told him?

  ‘How’d your social worker – Barbara, is it? – like to hear about our dirty little romance down on the beach, when she comes back with your little girl’s social workers?’

  Hannah froze. He did have her phone. And the new text message from Barbara about Friday’s meeting that she’d never received.

  ‘You know the police can trace where calls are received?’ she said, ashamed at the tremor in her voice.

  ‘Then I expect they’ll find your phone on the beach, where you dropped it then, won’t they? Just before you and me had our special moment, eh?’ Dax winked in a way that made her want to shower.

  Hannah struggled to hold his gaze. ‘Nothing happened between you and me, and if you say again to anyone that it did, I’ll take legal action and you’ll have to prove it. I know you’re all related round here – so nothing would hold up in court.’

  Dax grinned. ‘Well, see, I don’t think you will. Way I see it, you need to do what we say, or you don’t get what you want.’

  He stepped closer again. This time she backed away, catching her shirt on the hook she’d used to tie the donkey up. She found herself becoming less certain about what Dax would be prepared to do.

  He already knew nobody believed her.

  ‘You know what I heard,’ Dax said. She could smell the oil, and the stale cigarette smoke on his breath, now. ‘That there’s all these Londoners move to the countryside, then
realize they’ve made a mistake. It’s not for them, see? They go home.’

  The menace in his words hung in the air.

  ‘Anyway, honestly,’ Dax said, turning without warning and opening the garage door again, ‘it’s actually been very nice to see you.’

  ‘And you be careful out in those marshes,’ Madeleine said. ‘Shooting season soon. You don’t want some old boy to get you mixed up with a wood pigeon.’

  As quickly as they came, they were gone.

  Hannah stumbled out after them.

  On the front doorstep was a wicker basket. She could smell its rancid stink before she reached it. A dead pheasant was squashed into it, its feathers and beak a muddy mess of matted scarlet, blue and grey.

  Maggots crawled in its feathers.

  Retching, Hannah ran to the fence and threw the basket as hard as she could into Madeleine’s field, then returned and double-locked the front door.

  CHAPTER FORTY

  Hannah sat on the hall stairs, dazed. Something sinister was happening here in Tornley that she didn’t understand.

  Frank and Tiggy were lying to the police about Elvie.

  Dax and Madeleine were trying to intimidate her into leaving.

  Everyone in the village, in fact, was lying. Why?

  Outside, the fledgling spring sun fell weakly from the sky. Shadows gathered on her newly painted walls.

  Hannah tried to think. She knew from professional experience that tyrants usually won. TSO campaigned for people who were threatened for trying to speak and work freely as educators. Yet its success stories would always be in the minority. The tyrants had the power. She’d seen them threaten victims and witnesses, and their families. Chase them out of jobs and homes and into hiding. Discredit their stories and reputations. Hide the evidence.

  She thumped her fists on her thighs.

  But she knew these people in Tornley were lying.

  She had photographed Madeleine hitting Elvie. Frank and Tiggy had lied to the authorities about the existence of a vulnerable woman that Hannah had met. Dax had told a shocking lie to Will, to discredit Hannah and shut her up.

  Elvie is not your business, Laurie had said.

  But if Hannah didn’t speak out for Elvie, who would?