S is for Stranger

by Louise Stone

  I wasn’t sure of anything any more.

  ‘I presume it was a withheld number?’

  ‘I didn’t check that,’ I admitted, searching my bag now and scrolling through the recent call list. ‘No number. See here.’ I showed the display to the DI, she nodded.

  ‘Hmm, OK.’ She withdrew her notebook and scribbled a quick note. ‘First, let’s go and talk to the guy who sold Amy the candyfloss.’

  ‘There’s something I should tell you. It’s about my ex-husb …’ I walked fast to catch up with the detective but I stopped talking when I realised she was now on her phone. It had been ringing non-stop.

  She spoke hurriedly. ‘Thank you, DS Franklin,’ the DI finished and flipped her phone shut.

  I was almost running now. ‘I’ve already asked him, Detective, the man who sold us the candyfloss. He doesn’t remember Amy.’

  ‘We’ll try him again. You’d be amazed how often the presence of a police officer jogs their memory.’

  ‘I promise you he doesn’t know,’ I reiterated, but she still wasn’t listening.

  ‘OK, here we are.’ She turned on a smile for the ruddy-faced man sat behind the glass counter. He shot up, clearly not immune to the detective’s female charm and, I hated to admit it, Hispanic good looks. Pity her personality wasn’t as appealing.

  Without a trace of obvious emotion in her voice, DI Ward brought the man up to speed. ‘Sir, we have a woman here whose daughter is missing. Can you tell me, did you sell candyfloss to a girl about so high?’ She held her hand up and looked to me for confirmation. I nodded. ‘Do you want to tell him exactly what she was wearing?’

  I did and he showed no signs of recognition.

  ‘She bought three candyfloss sticks.’ I knew we were raking over old ground.

  ‘I told you before, love. I don’t remember her,’ he said through gritted teeth.

  The detective looked at me.

  ‘She was here,’ I stated flatly.

  ‘To be fair to the lady, I don’t remember many people I serve what with being here all day and so many people passing through. This isn’t one of them country fairs. London is full of strange faces.’

  DI Ward thanked him for his time and we made our way back to the tent. I spoke a silent prayer as we entered. But Amy was nowhere to be seen. The detective chatted briefly to the same girl before turning back to me. ‘You had something you wanted to tell me?’

  The tension that had enveloped me for the last hour gave way to heaving sobs. The DI put her hand tentatively on mine and gave a reassuring squeeze.

  ‘Come on, you can tell me,’ she encouraged.

  I tried to explain the call to Paul, stopping every few seconds to take a deep breath.

  ‘Wait a second, Ms Fraiser,’ she said, quickly removing her hand from my arm. ‘Are you trying to tell me you spoke to your ex-husband? Mr Mitchell, was it? And he denies ever being here? And you’re absolutely sure he was?’ DI Ward frowned and shook her head. ‘Is that what you’re saying?’

  I wiped my eyes with the back of my sleeve. ‘That’s correct.’

  She scratched her head. ‘Are you sure that Amy isn’t with your ex-husband?’

  I recoiled. ‘Detective, what are you suggesting?’ She glanced at me. ‘My daughter is missing. M-I-S-S-I-N-G.’ I spelt it out for her. She shot me a disparaging look. ‘If we were to go to Paul’s house now, and Amy isn’t there, does anyone mind explaining to me where my daughter is?’

  ‘Do you have any proof that Mr Mitchell and Amy were here with you? A photo on your phone?’

  I didn’t like where this was going. ‘No. Nothing,’ I said flatly; there hadn’t been any time to take photos.

  ‘In which case, I think we’d better go and talk to your ex-husband.’ I noted the weariness in her voice.

  My mind was spinning with questions, doubts. I couldn’t understand it. I rubbed my stinging eyes.

  ‘We definitely came here together.’ I felt defeated. A voice at the back of my head was taunting me: it’s not real. None of it’s real. ‘But I suppose Paul could’ve taken Amy home,’ I finally conceded. I pinched myself to confirm I could in fact feel pain, that I did exist.

  ‘How about I drive you over there and we’ll get this all sorted out?’

  I nodded and obediently followed DI Ward to her car. It was late afternoon now, the midday warmth replaced by a cool autumnal breeze. I climbed onto the rear seat and shut the door, then I remembered and took out my wallet. At the back, behind my credit cards, I kept a small passport photo of Amy. I looked at it, caressing the glossy picture with my thumb.

  ‘I do have a photo. This is Amy.’ I showed the photo to the detective as she started up the car.

  DI Ward pressed her lips together. ‘Is this a recent photo?’

  I nodded.

  ‘We’ll find her, Ms Fraiser. Don’t worry. It’ll all be fine. I’m sure it’s just a misunderstanding.’

  I stuffed the photo back inside my wallet and looked out the window. Bethany’s face stared back at my reflection. I let out a sob, squeezed my eyes shut and when I looked once more, I just saw myself: a haggard and frayed version of my young self.

  CHAPTER 4

  Detective Ward eyed me in the rear-view mirror. The whole trip was made without a word – small talk felt inappropriate. Why did she keep looking at me like that? I’m not sure what she expected me to do.

  Anyway, I was glad we weren’t talking. Hysteria was building inside me, I could feel it was at the point of bursting and, if I had been asked to speak, it would’ve torn through me like a river breaking its banks. My hands gripped the fabric seat edge and I kept my eyes locked on the slow-moving London traffic and changing scenery. Luckily, the detective had displayed no sign of wanting to get emotionally involved; it was easier this way – for both of us.

  She finally spoke. ‘It’s not far is it?’

  ‘No, just down here,’ I confirmed. ‘His house is just along this road. There it is.’ I pointed at the familiar Victorian red brick. She murmured acknowledgement and looked up and down the road for a space. Unable to find one, the detective parked on a double yellow.

  DI Ward started to climb out of the car. ‘Right, come on then. Let’s talk to Mr Mitchell.’ She hopped out and waited for me to do the same. I didn’t move; my limbs refused to cooperate, as if they too were in fear of what the next few moments held.

  The DI opened the passenger door. I got out slowly, every movement jerky. The detective’s hand brushed my arm as she went to close the door. Her touch caused me to jump.

  ‘Sorry,’ she said, scrutinising my face. ‘OK?’

  I nodded my head tiredly. We walked to the front door and DI Ward pressed the bell. I could hear Paul shuffling about inside. Just as she was about to ring again, Paul flung the door open.

  ‘Sophie,’ he said, his eyes questioning, ‘what are you doing here? And who’s this?’ He smiled tentatively at the detective. ‘Where’s Amy?’

  ‘Paul!’ I shouted, re-finding my strength as adrenaline shot through me. I bolted through the door, knocking Paul to one side, and moved toward the back of the house. ‘What do you mean, where’s Amy? Is she here?’

  ‘What are you talking about?’ he called to me down the hall. ‘She’s with you. It’s Saturday, you always take her on a Saturday.’

  ‘I beg your pardon? She’s with me?’ I was hurrying back toward him, my face flushed with colour. A swathe of red moved rapidly up my neck.

  ‘You collected her this morning, Sophie. Where is Amy?’ He looked furtively behind DI Ward. ‘Is this some kind of joke?’

  The detective moved forward to introduce herself. ‘Mr Mitchell, I’m DI Ward. Your ex-wife reported your little girl missing. You were at the fairground with them, to celebrate Ms Fraiser’s birthday?’ Her tone sought affirmation.

  His eyes widened and he paled. ‘Missing!’ He took a deep breath and turned to me. ‘Sophie?’

  DI Ward cleared her throat. ‘The fairground, Mr Mitchell, were yo
u at the fairground?’

  ‘Um, I’m afraid, Officer,’ Paul said, his eyes moving from DI Ward to me, ‘I wasn’t at any fairground. Sophie did ring me a couple of hours ago asking where I was. I told her I was at home.’ He ran his hand across his forehead. ‘You had better come in.’ Paul frowned at me and nodded for the detective to go through to the living room.

  She made her way through but remained standing. Paul stood on one side of the room, me on the other.

  ‘OK, do you think Amy might have run away?’ the DI asked.

  I looked at Paul. ‘Do you think she might have run from the fairground?’

  Paul glanced at me, rage causing his face to twist. ‘What fairground, Sophie?’

  I turned to the detective. ‘Do you see what I mean?’

  She gave a slight nod. ‘Mr Mitchell, you weren’t at the fairground today?’

  ‘No. I don’t know what she’s talking about.’

  ‘OK, do either of you think Amy might have run away?’

  We both shook our heads.

  ‘She –’ Paul started.

  ‘She,’ I cut in, ‘was fine when we were together.’ I looked hard at him. ‘We were together.’ Weren’t we?

  ‘Nothing happened that might have upset her?’

  I looked at the floor. ‘Like I told you, when I saw her speaking to a woman, I did get a bit cross.’ I nibbled my lip. ‘But only because I was worried.’

  ‘OK.’ The DI’s eyebrows furrowed. ‘And, Mr Mitchell, where were you?’

  ‘Out and about.’ He glanced at me. ‘I went into town for some food, that kind of thing.’

  I gasped. ‘Out and about?’ Spittle covered my lip. ‘What are you doing here?’

  The DI ploughed on. ‘Could Amy be with friends, relatives?’

  ‘Of course, she could be,’ I said, ‘but she was with me.’

  Paul turned to me now. ‘Yes, she was with you. Where is she now?’ He ran his hand through his hair and clenched his fist as he did so. ‘It doesn’t make sense.’

  ‘OK, Mr Mitchell,’ DI Ward said, ‘can you phone around her friends, close relatives, and check she isn’t with them?’ She thought for a second. ‘Does she have a favourite place she might go to?’ She looked at us in turn.

  Paul was staring at me. ‘I don’t think so.’ He paused. ‘Sophie, what the fuck is going on here?’

  ‘I can’t think of one now,’ I said quietly.

  ‘OK, Ms Fraiser, can I have that photo you showed me earlier? You said it was taken recently?’

  ‘Yeah, it’s a month old. We went to a passport booth together when I saw her last.’

  I searched my wallet and handed it to her and with relief saw that it was one of two copies. Amy’s face stared up at me and I traced the outline of her face with my forefinger. I wanted to reach into the photo, grab her, hug her, never let her go.

  ‘Right, I just need to make a quick call.’ The DI backed out of the living room and stepped outside.

  ‘Paul, where’s Amy?’ I said, my voice a hot whisper as I dropped my bag to the floor. ‘Don’t do this to me! Why are you lying?’

  ‘I have no idea what you’re talking about. I’m not lying.’ He seemed furtive. ‘Are you having a you-know?’

  I waited, let him explain, even though I knew what he was implying. ‘A you-know?’

  ‘An episode. When you,’ he pursed his lips, ‘make stuff up. Imagine things.’

  I stared at him in stunned silence, tapped the sofa three times. ‘You won’t get away with this.’

  Paul didn’t say anything and left the room. I could hear him addressing family members, parents of Amy’s friends.

  ‘Mr Mitchell? Ms Fraiser?’ Ten minutes later, DI Ward stepped back into the hallway and made her way to the living room. ‘DCS Fields is on his way over. I just need to ask a few more questions.’ She looked at us. ‘Right, then. Mind if I sit down?’ She gestured to the sofa before sitting down on the paisley-covered cushions. The fabric was a remnant of our failed marriage. I had always hated it. Paul’s choice. Not mine. I sat myself at the other end.

  ‘Right, so let me get this straight, Mr Mitchell,’ she started to say.

  ‘You can call me Paul,’ he interrupted.

  ‘Right, OK, Paul,’ she tried again. ‘Can you confirm that you were not at the fairground today, on Acton Green, with Ms Fraiser? That you have no knowledge of a day out?’ She jotted something down in her notebook.

  ‘That’s correct.’ He wrung his hands.

  ‘And that you believe that Amy was meant to be in your ex-wife’s care today?’

  ‘Again correct.’ He cleared his throat, started pacing. ‘I’m not sure I get what’s going on here.’ The blue vein on the side of his neck was pulsating. He looked at me. ‘What’s going on, Sophie? If anything’s happened to her …’ He tightened and released his fists like he was readying himself for a fight. ‘I shouldn’t have let her go. You’ve been acting strangely lately and my gut instinct said it was wrong. But I didn’t listen, did I? I didn’t think to myself: Sophie is just not well enough to look after our daughter with,’ he looked at me, ‘your drink problems, the delusions, the OCD.’ He slammed his fist on the wall. ‘No, and now our daughter is missing.’

  ‘Do you see what he’s doing?’ I asked.

  DI Ward flicked her ballpoint open and closed. I wished she would’ve done it twice more, just to be sure that no harm was going to come to Amy.

  She looked at us in turn. ‘What’s he doing?’

  ‘He’s having you believe I’m unable to look after Amy.’ I started picking at the skin around my fingers. ‘Like I’m mad.’ I paused and looked at Paul. ‘Isn’t that right, Paul? Is this all for the court’s benefit? Because all that’s going to happen is, you’re going to be arrested for hiding away your daughter!’ Even as I said it though, I realised how irrational I sounded. Why would Amy’s own father put her in danger? It made no sense. My eyes prickled with exhaustion.

  ‘I have no flaming idea what you’re going on about, woman! But yes, in my opinion, you are mad. Though I didn’t have to do anything to convince the detective here!’ He was up now, circling the room. Unexpectedly, he jabbed his finger in DI Ward’s face. ‘I’m right, aren’t I? You didn’t need any convincing?’

  I had never seen him like this: quite so wired, quite so panicky. Or maybe I didn’t know Paul as well as I thought.

  ‘Do you mind?’ DI Ward looked at him and he placed his hand by his side. ‘Ms Fraiser, do you know where Amy might be?’ She glanced at me; because even she must have realised how ridiculous that sounded. Though, it didn’t stop me from wishing I could get my diary out and check I hadn’t delivered her at a friend’s house. Hadn’t Elsie from school wanted to go to the pool one Saturday? My diary was just inside my bag, if I could just get it out and check. But I couldn’t because I needed to look like I was sure, be convincing, even though now I wondered if I really had forgotten what I had done today.

  ‘No, I don’t know where she is.’ It was honest.

  ‘Are you sure you didn’t arrange for her to go to a friend’s house or perhaps she went out and returned to your house in Richmond?’

  ‘Why wouldn’t I remember something like that?’ I said, affecting total disbelief.

  ‘I tried a few numbers whilst you were outside, Detective,’ Paul interrupted. ‘No one’s seen her.’ A moment’s silence before he spoke again. ‘Are you sure she’s not at Frannie’s house? I couldn’t get through to her parents.’

  ‘Paul,’ I warned, ‘you know she’s not at Frannie’s house.’ Frannie? Panic rose in my throat: why had I thought her name was Elsie? Then I had the sickening realisation that Elsie had been my best friend at school. Amy had wanted to go swimming with Frannie, her best friend. I momentarily wondered what other fragments of my past my mind could weave into the present day.

  I clamped my hands together. ‘He is lying. I left my house this morning to meet Paul and Amy at the fairground. We were all there. At the fairg
round.’ It felt as if the walls were closing in on me.

  ‘OK. Let’s just wait for DCS Fields. He’ll be here shortly,’ DI Ward said, sitting back in the sofa. I nodded and stared ahead, continuing to peel the skin around my nails, counted the bricks around the fireplace. A photo of Paul holding a newborn Amy sat in view. I don’t remember ever having one taken of Amy and myself. I suddenly realised that there was no evidence that I was Amy’s mother: no photos of us together, no drawings we had coloured in, nothing. Paul left the room. I could hear him pacing in the kitchen, muttering under his breath.

  After a few minutes, the doorbell rang and the DI Ward let out an audible sigh of relief. Paul rushed down the hall to the door and showed DCS Fields into the living room. The detectives exchanged fleeting glances. He was an overweight stern-looking man. But I knew that he had authority. Maybe he was enough to get Paul to admit he was lying. The Detective Chief Superintendent smiled at his expectant audience. Paul and I looked at him like children eager for the magician to pull the rabbit out of the hat. DCS Fields rubbed his hands over his eyes and fished around in his front pocket for his spectacles.

  ‘Mr Mitchell, Ms Fraiser,’ DI Ward addressed us.

  Paul sat on the edge of the sofa as if ready to pounce. I couldn’t read his body language at all: one minute he was furious, the next, he appeared fidgety and anxious.

  ‘One of you needs to tell me the truth,’ DI Ward continued smoothly. ‘Am I going to have to haul you both in for questioning?’

  I looked back at the photo. ‘I don’t know where Amy is.’

  ‘She has Amy, or she did have as of this morning,’ Paul said, his eyes not leaving mine. ‘You do know she’s an alcoholic? That she attends AA?’

  ‘That’s probably not relevant, Paul,’ DI Ward replied slowly.

  ‘Did you ask if she’s been drinking today?’ He focused on DI Ward now.

  ‘I haven’t!’ I sat bolt upright and massaged my neck with my hand. ‘I haven’t had a drink. You have to believe me.’

  I started to cry, at first only a few tears until it grew and I was sobbing, my shoulders shaking uncontrollably. A moan escaped my lips and was unlike any sound I’ve heard before. Its rawness shocked me. ‘What are you doing, Paul? Where’s our daughter? If you harm her, I swear to god, I’ll …’ I wiped my nose on the back of my jumper. ‘I don’t know what you’re up to but I never knew you could sink this low. If this is for the courts, then you wait till they find out Amy’s own father was willing to put her at risk.’