‘I can’t really remember. I’m sorry. I didn’t see Sasha though.’
I think back… I’d got the car keys in my hand and Sean had suddenly switched from angry to reassuring. It’ll be OK, he’d said, stroking my cheek. If you see anyone, make sure you ask them if they’ve seen Sasha. It could help. I’d nodded, knowing he was right. But when I came back, everything had changed.
‘Perhaps you didn’t see Sasha in the village because she was in the boot of your car. Is that correct, Libby?’ DI Jones says calmly.
‘What? No!’ Thin, bitter bile coats the back of my tongue as I fight the retch. ‘No… no comment.’
‘Libby, if you wish to have more legal advice…’ I hear Claire say, but I can’t even find the courage to turn to her, to accept what she’s offering.
‘Did your husband come with you in the car?’ DI Jones continues.
‘No, he didn’t. He stayed home with Alice and also in case Sasha came back.’ I stop. Swallowing. The Land Rover wasn’t there when I got back.
‘I’m confused, so perhaps you can help me out here, Libby. Is that OK?’
I nod.
‘I’ll reiterate – in your statement, you say that you didn’t see anyone apart from Eric Slater when you went out in the car. Correct?’
I give the tiniest of nods.
‘So why would your husband, Sean Randell, categorically say in his most recent statement that you told him you’d encountered two people when you went out in the car?’
‘I don’t know. No comment.’ I had no idea Sean had made another statement, let alone one that contradicted mine.
No need to say a word about it, love. You didn’t mean to hit the car… It makes no difference… I’d nodded frantically, so grateful he was on my side. We’d got each other’s backs. We just wanted everything to be normal again.
‘Where did you encounter Eric Slater?’ DI Jones asks.
I sigh, picking at my fingers. ‘I saw him when I was driving along Drover’s Way. I stopped to ask if he’d seen Sasha.’
Behind my eyelids I see Sean’s face, mouthing instructions at me before I left, his eyes saying one thing, his lips another – yet the words coming out meaning something entirely different.
‘Eric the Elf we call him,’ I continue, surprising myself with half a smile. ‘He’s eighty-two. He was out walking Maisy, his dog. He’s as fit as any fifty-year-old. He’ll tell you I was alone. He hadn’t seen Sasha either.’
‘Did you see anyone else?’
I stare at the tabletop – just a wooden laminate thing, grimy at the edges where people like me have put their sweaty hands or their despairing heads.
No need to say a word about it, love…
‘I’d forgotten that I saw Cath, too,’ I say to the detective, almost hearing Sean yelling at me for the betrayal. ‘It’s all been so… upsetting. I don’t know what I’m thinking half the time. Cath runs the post office.’
‘For fuck’s sake, Lib,’ he’d said, grabbing me by the shoulders after I’d got back. ‘I give you one job to do, one bloody job…’
I’d felt my brain ache inside my skull when he’d shaken me – enough to make me lose my bearings for a moment. Feel the dull thud of reality.
‘I’m so sorry,’ I’d said to him, the tears starting again. ‘I did what you said and went looking for Sasha. I didn’t mean to hit that car. If I’d known I’d be driving around looking for a dead girl, I wouldn’t have had any wine.’
He’d dug his fingers into my upper arms then – strong fingers used to dealing with big animals. Animals way bigger than me. ‘You don’t know she’s dead,’ he’d said to me, looking me squarely in the eye. ‘Repeat after me: we don’t know Sasha is dead.’
‘We don’t know Sasha is dead,’ I’d whispered, tears dribbling onto my lip, getting on my tongue. All I’d wanted to do was bury my face against his shoulder, have him wrap his strong arms around me. Instead, he shoved me away, paced about again as I stared at the space where Sasha had been sitting when we’d last seen her. I swear I still saw her there, hunched over her books, flicking through TV channels as she puzzled over maths questions – the indentations in the sofa cushions marking her place, as if she was coming back at any moment.
‘But Cath hadn’t seen Sasha either,’ I tell the detective. ‘No one had.’
‘OK, thank you.’ DI Jones shows his file to the other detective, pointing at something. She nods. ‘We also found traces of Sasha’s blood in your car, Libby,’ DI Jones continues, his face as calm as if he was commenting on the weather. ‘In the boot. Can you explain this?’
Claire leans in. ‘Libby, I don’t want to keep interrupting, but do you recall what we said before you came into interview, how you should deal with it?’
I shake my head. I don’t remember. I touch the tips of my fingers together – nothing. No feeling. I press my thumbs into my thighs, but they’re not there either. I bring my hand to my mouth, trying to find my lips, but they’ve also gone. Even the thoughts in my mind are turning to white noise, as if I’m fading from life, have never even existed.
Maybe it’s the same place Sasha has gone. Somewhere peaceful. Solitary. Safe.
‘Can you explain why traces of Sasha’s blood were found in your car?’ DI Jones repeats.
‘No,’ I say, remembering the shock when they took my VW away a few days ago. ‘There can’t be. It’s impossible.’ Numbness everywhere. ‘No comment.’ I touch my forehead as the detectives’ faces swim in and out of focus, my solicitor’s words buzzing between my ears as she asks again if I want further legal advice, Sean’s angry words lashing out at me.
‘It’s not looking good, is it?’ DI Jones says, giving me that impatient stare – his legs spread, arms folded. ‘Why don’t you just tell us what happened, Libby?’
It’s not looking good…
They were Sean’s words that night, too. I’d have thought it was obvious that things weren’t looking good, but I liked the way he took control. He’s always been capable in a crisis. Like when my waters broke early when I was pregnant and we had to rush to hospital. Of course I’d done the first-time-mum routine of packing my bag two months before my due date – spare nightie plus the one I wanted to give birth in, a comfortable outfit to wear home, toiletries, snacks, baby clothes and nappy-changing kit… the list went on. I’d likely only be in for a night, yet managed to fill a large holdall.
In the end, I turned up at hospital with a carrier bag containing milk and bread from the corner shop and nothing for the baby. Still, at least Sean made good use of the milk, swigging it down while he waited – which wasn’t for long, as it turned out. I was already nine centimetres dilated and wanting to push when the Land Rover rumbled up at A & E, Sean having fled the practice to answer my panicked call. He was with me in ten minutes – collecting me from the back room at the little shop two villages away as I huffed and panted my way through yet another contraction.
Later, when I’d held Alice against my breast, the midwife said I must have a high pain threshold to not know I’d been in labour for the last twelve hours.
‘I have a high pain threshold…’ I say now, feeling the damp patches under my armpits, a trickle of sweat running down my back.
‘Libby, I’ll ask again,’ Claire says. ‘Would you like some more legal advice, seeing as the interview is taking a different turn now? Some things you’re saying are not making sense.’ Claire leans in close. I smell her perfume – setting my nose alight, reminding me there’s a world outside of this small room. A world that I want to see again.
‘Yes, please,’ I say, finally looking at her. She’s the only person on my side. The only one who can help me.
‘OK,’ DI McCaulay says clearly. ‘We’ll take a short break. It’s 9.43 p.m.’
Then I hear an electronic beep as the recording device is switched off.
Thirty-Six
Before
‘You’ll realise one day,’ Jan said to Libby as the two of them sat opposite eac
h other in Jan’s living room. ‘When Alice is older, wanting to go out and do her own thing.’ She shook her head slowly. ‘A part of you wants to stop them, wrap them up and lock them away so nothing bad can ever happen, but another part of you wants to release them into the wild, like a beautiful butterfly you’ve set free, watching them fly.’
‘Oh, Jan…’ Libby said. Her tea had virtually gone cold as she’d listened to Jan talk about Sasha, but she sipped it anyway, not wanting to appear rude.
‘And she was so beautiful,’ Jan went on. ‘Is so beautiful,’ she added through a sob. ‘Though I’m not sure Matt always realised that.’
‘How come?’
‘He’s a boy. A teenage boy. What do you expect? When he’d passed his driving test, things changed between him and Sash. They’ve been sweethearts since the age of thirteen, and at school together since they were five. He’s one of her oldest friends as well as her first and only boyfriend.’
‘So why did things change?’
‘He started going out with his mates more, for a start. When he got the car, they were always badgering him for lifts. I was worried he was drinking and driving. There’s a pub on the edge of town, a bit of a dive to be honest, and they don’t check ID. I told Sash not to get in his car if he’d had a drink, but love trumps sense.’ Jan shrugged resignedly.
Libby nodded.
‘Then Sash saw him hanging out with another girl a couple of months ago. She knew she’d got the hots for him, and she wondered if Matt had for her. They were flirting at college, spending their lunch breaks together when he could have been with Sasha. And he used to help this girl with her coursework when Sasha needed help too. It didn’t seem fair. Matt’s a bright lad, despite how I’m making him sound. He swore to Sash she was just a friend, but even so, Sasha felt sidelined and hurt, as if she wasn’t the most important thing to him any more.
‘Then, when Matt went round to this girl’s house one evening after college, Sash ended things with him. He swore it was only to fix her bike, but he ended up staying late. Matt’s the kind of lad who’ll do anything for anyone. Soft as butter and he can’t say no. But really, I think he only does it to make himself feel good. Self-esteem issues, I reckon.’
‘Sounds like it,’ Libby said, remembering a few things Sasha had said.
‘Stupid thing is, Sasha’s bike has had a puncture for ages. She never mentioned it to Matt, didn’t like to take advantage of his kindness. Instead, she just bore the hurt of his behaviour. What he believed was good behaviour. Anyway, a couple of weeks later, they got back together of course. Matt talked her round as he always does.’
Libby listened to Jan, knowing she needed to vent, that she likely didn’t have anyone else to unload on. There was no sign of Phil. Libby had called round on a whim on the way back from the market. Something – guilt, perhaps – had taken her home via Little Radwell with fresh flowers.
‘I think Sash is prone to overreact when it comes to relationship issues, given what’s happened between Phil and me. It’s bound to have affected her, even though she’s older now.’
Libby didn’t know what to say. She watched as Jan knelt beside the coffee table, arranging her scented candles and taking an incense stick from its packet. She clicked the green plastic lighter a few times, trying to get a flame, but it only emitted a couple of sparks. In the end, she reached for a box of matches on the mantelpiece, lighting each of the candles. A plume of blue-grey smoke twisted up from the incense as it glowed orange at its tip.
‘These help calm me,’ Jan said, dropping the lighter in the waste basket beside the fireplace. She’d managed to put on some proper clothes today – just tracksuit bottoms and a sweatshirt – but her hair was still unkempt and her face even thinner than last time.
‘They smell nice,’ Libby said. ‘And I’m sorry to hear about you and Phil, Jan,’ she added. ‘It’s hard enough anyway, let alone at a time like this.’
‘Sash saw things going down the pan between me and her dad and I think that’s why things turned sour with Matt. Plus Matt’s the possessive type. Double standards, or what?’ Jan rolled her eyes. ‘But it made her question things, what’s right and wrong. She’s got high moral standards has our Sash. Doesn’t like to see people get away with things or watch others get hurt. I just wish she could apply that to herself.’ She stared out of the front window, her shoulders up around her ears, the knuckles of her left hand white from the clenched fist she was making. ‘I’m looking out for them cops,’ she said. ‘There’s always someone coming and going.’
‘It’s good they’re keeping you updated.’
‘I’m at the point where I don’t care if it’s bad news or good news any more,’ Jan said. ‘Is that awful of me? I just want any news. Then I can deal with it whichever way I have to.’ She shook her head. ‘Not knowing is the hardest thing of all.’
‘I understand,’ Libby said.
‘I want to show you something.’ Jan went into another room, returning with a couple of photo albums. ‘I dug these out the other night when I couldn’t sleep. The cops wanted me to check photos on my phone, see if I could find pictures of the things Sasha was wearing when she went missing. But you know what it’s like when you go on a crawl down memory lane. I ended up going right back to when she was a baby.’
‘I hope it was a help, Jan, to look at your beautiful girl.’ Libby put a hand on her arm as she sat down next to her. ‘They’ll find her soon, I feel sure of it.’
Libby suddenly swung round, convinced Sean was behind her.
Everything’s going to be OK…
‘This was her on her thirteenth birthday, look,’ Jan said, sharing the album between them. ‘That’s Matt next to her. Cheeky, grin, eh?’
‘Yes indeed,’ Libby said. ‘And look at Sash’s dimple. It’s just the same now.’
‘That was her first ever disco. In the village hall. She felt right grown-up, I can tell you. Phil got her a DJ and everything. Just the chap who plays a couple of local pubs and that, but Sash was made up. Phil even hired a smoke machine and some flashing lights.’
‘So sweet,’ Libby says. ‘Look at her, all made up and her hair done, looking as if she’s going on eighteen.’
‘I know,’ Jan said, flipping back through the pages. ‘Here’s another birthday, look, though that was a few years before, combined with Phil’s and Hallowe’en. Phil did her witch make-up. He was into amateur dramatics back then. Used to help out at the local society doing costumes and stuff, scenery and the like.’ There was something wistful in Jan’s voice.
‘Looks like a fun party,’ Libby said. ‘Apple bobbing and everything.’
‘We had a few complaints from some of the parents though,’ she said, managing a laugh. ‘Phil did a “pin the tail on the pheasant” game, instead of a donkey. As ever, he’d brought home several brace from work but decided to use one of the dead birds at the party, blindfolding the kids and getting them to attach the tail feathers back onto the thing. It was hanging by its neck. Quite gory.’ Jan rolled her eyes fondly. Libby could tell talking was helping. She’d made the right call to drop in.
‘Well, no major harm done if grown-ups were there too, I suppose,’ Libby said, flipping through the album. ‘Is this a family holiday?’
‘Norfolk,’ Jan said. ‘Look how little Nathan is there. Barely walking.’
‘How’s he coping with all this? I know he and Sash are close.’
Jan shook her head. ‘Not well. He refuses to talk about it. He’s gone to school as normal since Sash… since she went, and he hangs out at his mates’ houses afterwards. It’s as though he’s trying to find excuses not to come home. Nathan likes going to Phil’s cottage on the estate sometimes,’ she added. ‘Thing is, he’s only eleven, and too young to leave while Phil’s working, so he’s been feeling rejected when Phil sends him back here.’
‘I’m sorry,’ Libby said, not knowing what else to say. ‘You’ve got so much going on.’
‘He thinks I’m up to no go
od, you know,’ Jan said. ‘Phil. But he’s got it all wrong. Yes, we’ve had our problems over the years. God knows we have… but he thinks I’m seeing someone else. It’s a mess.’
Libby stared at Jan, swallowing hard. She hadn’t denied it exactly, and Phil’s suspicions must have come from somewhere. Up close, Libby could see the fine, downy hairs on Jan’s face covering her gaunt and sunken cheeks. She was an attractive woman but the recent stress had taken its toll.
‘Come with me,’ Jan said, suddenly rising. ‘Upstairs.’
Glad of the reprieve, Libby followed Jan up the staircase. At the top, they turned right and went into a bedroom.
‘She talks about you very fondly, you know,’ Jan said. ‘Almost as if you’re an aunt or big sister.’ She paused, wiping a finger under her eye. ‘Or another mother,’ she added with a regretful look. ‘And every other mother should know where her other daughter sleeps.’ She smiled, touching Libby’s arm.
‘It’s a lovely room,’ Libby said, looking around. ‘She’s a good girl. We chatted a lot while we were working.’ Libby wondered if it was the right time to bring up her concerns about Sasha’s eating but, on balance, she thought it best not mention it – as ever, Sean’s voice guiding her in her head.
Jan suddenly tensed at the sound of the landline ringing downstairs.
‘Oh, just a moment,’ she said, turning and dashing off. ‘It might be news,’ she called from the stairs.
Alone, Libby looked at the items on Sasha’s dressing table. Her make-up, bits of jewellery lying about – just cheap, colourful stuff – as well as a few trinkets, coins, nail varnishes and some receipts. She trailed her hand over the end of the bed as she went to the bookshelves, turning her head sideways to look at the titles. Sasha was into romantic novels, it seemed, so Libby pulled out one with a bookmark, flicking through it, wondering if it was the last book Sasha had read.
Date Night (ARC) Page 22
