The Unheard

by Nicci French

  ‘Is that it?’ I said. ‘Are you going back to the golf course?’

  His expression darkened. ‘I was in the park playing football with my two little boys,’ he said. ‘But thanks for asking.’

  He closed the file.

  ‘Aren’t you going to take a note of what I said?’ I asked.

  His expression turned sarcastic. ‘I’m glad that you’re taking an interest in police procedure.’

  ‘It’s not that,’ I said. ‘I want you to write down what I said here today.’ I looked at the female police officer. ‘In her presence. What’s your name?’

  ‘Steiner,’ she said. ‘Jan Steiner.’

  ‘I’m going to make a note of the meeting myself,’ I said. ‘Because in one week, or two weeks or a month, if I’m found dead with my daughter—’ I had to stop and swallow because the picture of that suddenly became vivid in my mind. ‘Then, if that happens, I don’t want you two to mysteriously forget that we sat here today and I told you what I’ve just told you.’

  Ross Durrant looked at me warily and inclined his head very slightly.

  ‘A note will be made.’

  ‘I’ll make a note too,’ I said. ‘Where people can find it.’ I stood up. ‘And now I have to go back to my life and this man who has killed two women and I don’t know who to turn to.’

  Ross Durrant stood up as well.

  ‘You’ve worked yourself up,’ he said. ‘When you’ve calmed down a bit, then maybe you can start looking for some help.’

  ‘That’s why I came here,’ I said.

  FIFTY-SEVEN

  Poppy had her hair in pigtails; one was higher than the other, which gave her a lopsided look. She had a thick scratch down one cheek. I knelt and gathered her into me. For a moment, I shut my eyes and felt her heart beating against mine, her breath hot on my neck. Then I held her back from me.

  ‘What happened to your face?’

  ‘Roxie did bit me.’ She put a finger against the livid line with a tragic air. ‘She did hurt me.’

  ‘Roxie?’ I stood up, still holding on to her warm hand like it was the only thing that could keep me safe, and turned to Emily.

  ‘She tried to ride on her back,’ said Emily. ‘I put antiseptic cream on it. Jason says it’s fine.’

  Emily wasn’t looking as fresh and healthy and pretty as she usually did. Her hair needed washing; there were bruised shadows under her eyes. She was wearing a man’s shirt over cotton trousers, and looked more like a child than a pregnant woman.

  ‘Are you OK?’

  Her gaze shifted from me, rested on the window of the café where a fly ticked and buzzed uselessly.

  ‘Jason said we shouldn’t really talk.’ Her voice was low.

  ‘And you always do what Jason says?’ My voice came out harsher than I intended, almost a growl.

  She turned her eyes back to me. ‘We’re married.’

  I gave a small laugh. ‘Is that what marriage means?’

  ‘I should go.’

  ‘Emily, don’t you go to work anymore?’

  ‘I’m taking a break from working,’ she said.

  I wanted to shake her, tell her to open her eyes and see what was happening to her. Who was I to talk, to tell anyone what to do about anything? I looked down at Poppy’s burnished head, then picked up her overnight bag.

  ‘I’m sorry that I didn’t have time to wash her clothes from yesterday.’

  ‘That’s not a problem. We’ll be off then,’ I said.

  ‘Tess?’

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘Oh… it’s nothing really. Bye.’

  ‘Take care,’ I said and saw tears spring into Emily’s eyes.

  * * *

  ‘What shall we do today?’ I asked Poppy as we walked hand in hand towards the bus stop.

  I was so crowded out with fears, I could barely speak. Because what should I do today, any day? My breath was raw in my chest, my legs thin and shaky as reeds. My body – the body that a few hours ago had been in Aidan’s arms, had been touched and entered by Aidan – now felt corrupted and broken.

  ‘Grandmother’s Footsteps?’ she said hopefully. ‘Hide and Seek, and I’ll hide and you will find me.’

  ‘OK,’ I said in a bright voice.

  But maybe, I thought, we should go and stay with my mother, or my friend Sylvie, who lived in Newcastle. I had a friend living in Hamburg, another who’d moved to New Zealand. Or I should go to Gina and tell her everything, or Nadine perhaps, who was always so calm and practical and laid a soothing hand on the most seething of troubles.

  But would they believe me? Would anyone? I didn’t know if I would believe me, if I was them.

  We boarded the bus. Poppy sat close to me, swaying against me as the bus rounded corners. When we got off, I tried to hold her hand, but she pulled away and skipped in front of me, her small backpack bumping against her body, her pigtails bouncing.

  ‘Tess!’

  Bernie was coming towards us, striding rapidly.

  I found myself almost glad to see him. He was irritating but just a normal kind of irritating – making too much of an effort and hitting the wrong note. OK, so he stood too close and wasn’t good at respecting boundaries, but really he just wanted to be liked. He hadn’t killed anyone.

  ‘And how’s Pops?’ he asked, grinning at her, his teeth yellow.

  Poppy stared at his left hand, raised in greeting, at the rounded nubs where his fingers used to be.

  ‘Where are they now?’ she asked, pointing.

  ‘That’s a good question.’

  ‘Did they die?’

  ‘I suppose they did, in a way.’

  ‘Are they in the ground?’

  ‘I don’t think so.’

  ‘Do they hurt?’

  ‘No, not anymore.’

  ‘Roxie did hurt me.’ Poppy put a finger on her cheek.

  ‘A dog,’ I said.

  ‘Going home?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘See you later.’ Bernie gave his wheezing laugh at some private joke.

  We turned into our road. There was a figure sitting on the doorstep and as we approached, the figure stood. Aidan.

  I halted, took Poppy’s hand and held it tight.

  ‘Mummy? Mummy, you’re hurting.’

  He was waving at us, his hand high above his head. Then he came loping towards us down the road. He took my face in his hands and kissed me full on the mouth, then bent towards Poppy and touched her gently on the shoulder. I remembered how I used to like the way he was respectful with her, a bit awkward.

  ‘I’ve missed your mother, and I’ve missed you,’ he said. ‘But I’m back now. We’re going on a picnic!’

  Poppy stared up at him, her eyes round. She backed against my knees. Why had I never sensed that she was scared of him? I had searched desperately for signs and clues, and not seen what was in front of my eyes.

  ‘I’m not sure—’ I began.

  ‘I’ve probably brought way too much,’ he said. ‘But whatever we don’t eat now, we can save for later. I thought we could go to Epping Forest. Do you like climbing trees, Poppy?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘I’ve looked at the buses. They go every ten minutes.’

  ‘I’m quite tired,’ I said.

  Aidan took my hand and kissed the knuckles.

  ‘So am I,’ he said softly. ‘We didn’t get much sleep, did we?’

  ‘I think I may be coming down with something.’

  ‘It’s all been too much for you,’ he said.

  ‘Coming down from where?’ Poppy tugged at my hand. ‘Where are you up?’

  Perhaps I actually was ill – the ground didn’t feel steady under my feet and when I tilted my head to the blue sky and small clouds, the trees seemed to tip towards me. I wanted to fold up on myself – fold up over Poppy and close her into my embrace.

  How could Aidan not see? How did he not know? He was smiling, saying things about how he’d spent the morning thinking of me. I thought of running past
him with Poppy, getting into the house and slamming the door shut.

  But in the reeling nausea of my thoughts, I understood – and it was the only thing I understood – he must not know that I knew. Our safety lay in Aidan thinking he had got away with it.

  ‘Let me drop off Poppy’s stuff and get a picnic blanket,’ I said.

  Aidan pulled out his mobile and looked at the time.

  ‘Sure. There’s a bus in a minute and then another in twelve minutes – we can get that one. We’re not in any hurry.’ Again, that tender, knowing smile.

  I rummaged in my bag for the door keys and felt the photos, the watch, under my fingers. I let us into the hall, then into the flat. Poppy picked up Sunny and held him so he dangled from her.

  ‘You won’t hurt me. You’re my friend.’

  She put a fat kiss on his shabby orange head and I saw his tail twitch ominously.

  ‘Let’s go then,’ said Aidan.

  ‘I don’t want to,’ said Poppy.

  ‘It’s OK, darling. We can play Grandmother’s Footsteps.’

  ‘I want Sunny.’

  ‘Sunny will be here waiting for you.’

  ‘I want Milly. I want chocolate. I want a banana. I want my crayons. I want ice cream.’

  ‘I’ll buy you an ice cream,’ said Aidan good-naturedly. ‘There’s a little café near where we get off the bus.’

  ‘I want a paddling pool.’

  ‘We’ll swing you,’ said Aidan. ‘Swing you high all the way to the bus. Won’t we, Tess?’

  I nodded. Part of me was thinking this wasn’t real, part was thinking I had to run away with Poppy right now, run and run and never come back. I imagined us tearing down the road together; I imagined him calmly walking after us, reaching us. Then what?

  Aidan took Poppy’s hand. I looked down, seeing the way his larger hand curled around her small one. She was so little.

  FIFTY-EIGHT

  We swung Poppy to the bus stop. We swung her as we walked into the forest. We looked like the perfect little family. I had a blanket and Aidan had the picnic in his backpack. He was wearing a green tee shirt and grey cotton trousers and he looked relaxed and happy. He identified trees, gestured to a buzzard wheeling above us, pointed out the elderflower growing thickly along the path.

  ‘We should make elderflower juice,’ he said. ‘Would you like that, Poppy?’

  ‘No.’

  He grinned as though her answer pleased him.

  When we spread out the picnic, he had brought a bottle of champagne and two glasses wrapped in newspaper to keep them safe. He had fizzy drink in a can for Poppy and lots of miniature foods – tiny falafels and sausages and salmon rolled up with cream cheese. There were cherries as well as strawberries. Chocolate biscuits, which were sticky in the heat.

  He poured out champagne and we clinked glasses and he said, ‘Here’s to us,’ and tapped his glass against Poppy’s drink as well.

  She edged towards me. I took a sip of the champagne, and when he wasn’t looking tipped the rest onto the dry mossy ground. He reached up and delicately removed a twig from my hair. I couldn’t do this. If he touched me again, I would lash out. If he touched Poppy, I would claw at his face.

  He put his hand over mine and I let him. I turned my head and I smiled at him and felt disgust in my throat like thick silt. How could he not tell?

  On the way home, Poppy went to sleep curled up against me and I carried her from the bus stop, refusing Aidan’s offers to take her from me. He followed me into the flat and waited while I laid Poppy on her bed.

  ‘How asleep is she?’

  I knew what he meant and pretended not to.

  ‘She’ll wake in a few minutes. She doesn’t usually nap in the day.’

  ‘I understand, of course, but she doesn’t seem that happy I’m back in her life.’

  ‘She’s tired.’

  ‘She wants to have you to herself. I get it.’ He smiled at me – that small half-smile I used to find so sympathetic. ‘I’m sure she’ll get used to me in time.’

  I couldn’t do this. I felt physically incapable of meeting his eye, of returning his smile, of letting him lay his hands on me, of kissing him back. I turned towards him.

  ‘Aidan. It was lovely, but you know that nothing’s really changed, don’t you?’

  ‘Everything’s changed.’

  ‘No. I mean, the reason that I ended things – it was because I wasn’t in a good state. I needed to sort things out and I still do.’

  ‘I know. And I know what you’re going through and I can help, I can be there for you. I can be your rock, the person you can always turn to.’

  ‘I think,’ I said as firmly and kindly as I could, ‘that we should put things on hold. Just till I’m ready.’

  Never never never never.

  ‘No,’ Aidan said. ‘I think in the past I sometimes felt a bit raw because you always put Poppy before me, but one of the reasons I fell in love with you in the first place was that you are such a fabulous mother. Of course you have to put her first. I understand that now in a way that I didn’t before.’

  ‘But I have no room in my life for a relationship.’

  ‘I don’t think that’s true. Think of last night. To me it felt like coming home. And I believe it was like that for you as well.’

  Then he put a hand on my naked arm. I looked down at his four fingers, slightly apart, pressing into my skin.

  ‘You trusted me,’ he said, speaking slowly, each word distinct. ‘You trusted me with everything, Tess, everything you’ve been thinking and feeling. Everything you’ve done. Things that you can’t tell anyone else, mustn’t tell anyone else. I will always remember that.’

  What was he saying? I blinked; my eyes felt scratchy and sore.

  ‘I would never tell a soul,’ he continued. ‘I know what you stand to lose if, for instance, Jason and his lawyer found out about you breaking into his house, hacking into his computer, sending yourself those emails, seeing Inga after they’d given you that final warning. I know how completely terrifying that must feel.’

  He meant Poppy: that’s what I stood to lose. I stared at him, unable to turn away.

  ‘You’re in a horrible position.’ His voice was mild and tender; his eyes were on me. ‘People haven’t believed you: Jason, the police. They think you are hysterical, mad, dangerous. I don’t think that. I know you. I know what a fierce, loyal and wonderful woman you are. You’d do anything to protect Poppy. I know that. You’re on a knife edge.’

  I tried to speak, but my voice faltered.

  ‘I’m here for you,’ he said. ‘Come what may. So don’t say we should end things or put them on hold. Don’t say that, my lovely Tess, because what would I do if you said that?’

  I understood and I saw him seeing I understood. His gaze never wavered and his warm hand remained on my arm, his fingers pushing into my flesh. Slender fingers, like a pianist’s.

  ‘Mummy! Mummy Mummy Mummy.’

  ‘Coming now,’ I called. I pulled back from Aidan, tried to give him a smile that wouldn’t look like a snarl of fear and disgust. ‘Sorry,’ I said. ‘You need to go.’

  ‘No worries,’ he said. ‘I’ll call you later. We’ll make plans.’

  * * *

  Poppy and I played Grandmother’s Footsteps in the little garden that I could cover in five strides. Poppy stood with her back to me, her body tense with the effort of not turning.

  I took a small step.

  Aidan had killed two women because of me. He killed Skye because she must have threatened to tell me about their fling, if fling was the right word for a man ‘rescuing’ a woman when drunk, taking her back to her flat and having sex with her. I remembered Aidan and me at the party after I discovered Jason’s infidelities, me wrapping my arms around his neck. I heard my words: If you ever cheat on me, we’re over. No second chances.

  Another step. Poppy was practically vibrating with her desire to look round.

  I saw Skye in the restaurant, pointi
ng a finger at me, smiling and smiling, and opposite me sat Aidan.

  My small world had been bristling with acts of domestic surveillance: everyone had been watching everyone else, tracking everyone else, keeping their own secrets and prying into other people’s.

  I thought about the cap that Skye had held in her hands that evening, Aidan’s cap, and Aidan, sitting beside me with his unwavering expression, had seen it. She must have slipped it into Poppy’s little backpack that day in the park with Jason: the cap he was wearing in the photo I had, the cap Skye had worn in that photo on my phone, the cap I had upstairs. The whole thing had been a show she had put on for him.

  Another small step. Poppy turned and I froze and she grinned and turned back again.

  Skye must have followed Aidan to my house after the second time he’d gone to hers. She had watched us and tracked us. She had retrieved the mutilated Milly from my bin and she had sewn it back into a mockery of a beloved rag doll and returned it to me via Poppy. I had shown the doll to Aidan, and Aidan had gone the following night when he was supposed to be at the conference and killed her, pushing her from her balcony as if she was a rag doll herself.

  Aidan had also spied on us, kept track of me when I thought I was free, and I in my turn had spied on Jason, trailing him, breaking into his house and his computer.

  My daughter had been a spy in her own life as well, though she hadn’t been able to decode the things that she had heard and witnessed. Poppy had watched her father kissing a strange woman. Poppy had watched Aidan with Skye, maybe from her open window or maybe from the top of the stairs while I slept. I would never know how much she had seen and heard and taken into her crowded imagination.

  I will kill you, you fucking cunt. I will push you from your balcony and no one will know. Except my daughter had known, with her eyes like saucers and her ears taking in everything.