by Louise Stone
Darren came up and held my arm. ‘That was good. Really good.’ He gestured in front of him. ‘Let’s talk about Bethany. Tell me about when you first met her.’
We walked and talked, and I felt comfortable.
‘As soon as I saw her, I knew it was love. Bethany was beautiful.’ I blushed. ‘I mean not in that way, but she had a magic about her.’
He nodded and I went on.
‘She wasn’t beautiful in an obvious way, no. She had a slightly wonky front tooth and when she was sad,’ I paused, ‘which turned out to be quite often, it’s hard to explain but it was as if her face didn’t emanate the same glow, the same wonder.’
‘What did you feel about Bethany when she was sad?’ He gently kicked at some leaves as his foot hit the grass.
‘I loved her in those moments as much as any. Because, on those few occasions, she needed me. I always wanted her to need me because she knew I needed her.’
‘Why did you need her?’
I shrugged. ‘I’m not sure, I think it was because she just got me. No one, not even my boyfriends,’ I stopped, ‘including Oliver, ever got me like she did.’
‘So tell me about when you first met.’
We rounded the green now and started heading back on ourselves.
‘We had introduced ourselves briefly on the first day. She had been dropped off by her mother and, I could tell, her mum was relieved that Bethany had met someone who might look out for her daughter. To be honest, Bethany hadn’t struck me as the kind of girl who needed protection.’ I chuckled. ‘She had bags of confidence. Or, at least, I had thought she did. Within minutes of introductions, we were swept out the door by our other housemates and we all headed to the student union bar. I tried to talk further with her, but I was jostling for her attention. The guys couldn’t keep their eyes off her!’
‘Did you find her attractive?’ Darren was gazing into the distance as we spoke.
‘Yes, I mean she had long legs and tanned arms – she had clearly been in the sun over the summer.’ I smiled. ‘In contrast, I was pasty – I hadn’t got out much, not since the accident – choosing to spend my time in my room.’
Darren slowed. ‘The accident?’
I swallowed hard. ‘Yeah, I remember it had been a warm evening when they came to the door. I tried to take in what the young WPC was saying.’ I stopped now. ‘She was telling me my parents were dead. A car accident.’
I gave Darren a sidelong look. He was frowning.
‘It wasn’t until the police woman had driven me to the hospital and I was asked to ID my parents that the tears came. After that, there was no consoling me.’
‘So, you were eighteen?’
I nodded. ‘Yes, Faye, the cleaner, had brought me meals and tried to chivvy me along but, for two months, I wouldn’t speak to anyone. I realised now, it must’ve been hard for her too. My parents had been her family, and me, her daughter. I had no other family: we depended entirely on one another.’
I felt old wounds reopening and I willed myself not to cry now.
‘Go on,’ Darren encouraged.
‘Well, walking along that night, heading to the union, I was amazed I was even at university. I had received my A-level grades in the midst of that bleak summer and I had barely registered the two As and a B. It had taken a lot of persuasion but, in the end, Faye had won: “It’s what your father would have wanted for you,” she had said.’ I paused. ‘She was right.’
‘So you’re walking to the union and do you ever talk to Bethany?’
‘Yes, eventually. I desperately wanted to join in the conversation but I was shy around her.’
The October breeze blew across my face and reminded me of our conversation that night.
‘I remember she asked me if I was cold and she gave me her jacket.’ I gave a small laugh. ‘I remember her smile made me go weak at the knees.’
‘What exactly was so attractive about her?’
‘Well, even more than her physical beauty it was this strange power she had. It kind of left me wanting to be her.’
‘Later, did you feel jealous of her? Did she have something you wanted?’
I stopped walking again and Darren turned to me, his face open. I wondered if I really could trust this man. I felt like I was talking about subjects that I shouldn’t admit to anyone, let alone a therapist working for the force. I wondered if this was somehow a leading question.
‘Yes, I was jealous of Bethany.’
‘Why?’ he pushed.
When I didn’t speak, he said, ‘Sophie, I’m trying to make you remember and sometimes that hurts, I know.’
‘I was jealous of her ability to have people eating out the palms of her hands,’ I hesitated, ‘mainly me.’
He nodded. ‘OK, so what else do you remember from that night? Anything?’
‘Yes, I asked her about her tan.’ We had started to walk again. ‘And apparently her father had paid for some expensive holiday for her and her mum, but he hadn’t gone. It was clearly a really sore point as she didn’t speak to me for the rest of the evening.’
‘Were you upset by that?’
‘Yes,’ I admitted, ‘ridiculously I was. I had only known her for all of five minutes and she already had me feeling guilty.’
‘So did you guys make up that night?’
‘Yes, I remember, on the way home, I hung back again. I was still wearing her denim jacket; it smelt floral, like the perfume she wore. She told me to keep the jacket and said she didn’t like to speak about her dad. She never went into why.’
‘What did you say?’
I shrugged. ‘I think I apologised and I remember being relieved because that’s something we had in common. She didn’t like talking about her dad and I didn’t want to talk about my parents and the accident.’ I nodded, thinking. ‘Yeah, I felt good after that. Like I had found my soul mate. In fact, she was like the sister I never had. I needed her.’
Darren nodded, gave a small smile. ‘Sophie, you’re doing really well.’ He pursed his lips before continuing, ‘So, you think your past is important in finding Amy?’ I nodded. ‘And I agree. What we need to do is find out why now. Why twenty years later?’ He waited for my confirmation. Again, I nodded. ‘OK, why twenty years later, you believe the person involved in your friend’s murder is linked to Amy’s disappearance.’ He pinched the bridge of his nose, thinking. ‘Do you know if Bethany had any troubles at university with a stalker? Or someone who maybe developed some sort of obsession with her?’
I stopped abruptly. ‘What do you mean?’
‘I mean you believe your friend was murdered. We need to figure out why.’ He studied my face. ‘I mean when you talk about her, Bethany sounds like an intriguing person. She clearly had some sort of hold over you.’
I took a sharp intake of breath. ‘She never had a hold over me,’ I corrected him, even though I was lying. ‘She was just the family I didn’t have any more.’
He smiled at me gently. ‘I didn’t mean it in a negative way. I meant exactly that: she was your friend, a kind of sister.’ He started to walk again. I jogged a couple of steps to catch up. ‘So, be honest with me, Sophie, it’s the only way this is going to work if you’re honest with me. Bethany meant the world to you?’
I nodded. ‘Of course.’
‘What did you feel when perhaps her attention was on somebody else?’
I pushed my tongue around the back of my teeth, holding out on an answer.
‘Sophie?’
‘Like there were three of us in a relationship.’
‘OK,’ he nodded, ‘so we need to figure out who had that same feeling, but heightened, toward Bethany, and perhaps in finding your friend’s killer, we find Amy too.’
We had arrived at the Tube again, come full circle.
Darren pulled his coat more tightly around him, the wind had started to pick up. ‘So, how do you think that went, Sophie? How are you feeling?’
‘Drained, but a bit more hopeful.’
> ‘Sounds pretty normal, then.’ He gave a small smile. ‘All in a day’s work.’
I gave a small laugh, felt my shoulders loosen. ‘I feel like I’m on the brink of discovering something. Like the person I am today is going to meet the person I once was.’ Bubbles of excitement had started to form in the pit of my stomach. ‘I think that we could do it, you know, find Amy.’ My eyes suddenly smarted with tears, despite the excited knotting in my stomach. ‘I need to find my daughter.’
My phone started to buzz. It was DI Ward, she spoke fast: they had just confirmed a press conference. She said it was important to put our message out there as anyone could be listening: the abductor, Amy, a member of the public who knew something.
Darren offered to drive me, told me he had actually come by car. He moved through the London traffic with confidence.
I didn’t speak, my palms starting to sweat at the thought of the press conference. It made the whole thing far too real.
‘Don’t worry, Sophie. It’ll be fine. You’re in safe hands with DI Ward.’
I nodded, unconvinced. ‘It feels like I’m having to share my grief with the world.’ I gave him a sidelong glance. ‘Whereas this feels private. I mean, what if the public think I’m a fraud?’
‘Why would they do that?’
I shrugged. ‘I don’t know. I guess I don’t trust many people. When I’ve opened up before, I’ve been judged, told I’m delusional. Who’s to say they’ll think anything different now?’
He pulled up outside the station, killed the engine. ‘Sophie, this isn’t about you. It’s about finding your daughter.’ His kind eyes rested on mine. ‘Just focus on that.’ He tapped the steering wheel with his forefinger. I watched him do it eight times and willed him to tap a ninth. I told myself, if he tapped a ninth time, the press conference would go well. He brought his hand down to his lap, and my heart beat a little faster.
‘I’d like you to keep a journal. Write down anything that comes to mind – any past experience. Doesn’t matter what.’
I sighed. ‘The problem I have is that I’m never sure if my memories are true or in my imagination. All those doctors telling me I’m delusional, makes you question yourself.’
‘Listen, it doesn’t matter, there’s as much truth in the made-up as there is in reality.’
Before I got out, he asked, ‘Do you remember the name of the perfume Bethany wore?’
‘Yes, it was Chanel No. 5,’ I said, barely skipping a beat and frowned. ‘Why?’
‘Have you got any?’
‘Yes.’ I didn’t tell him that I had the very bottle Bethany had used before she died and the CD we had played on repeat in the weeks leading up to her murder. It was my secret; just a couple of things to remind me of her.
‘Great. Can you bring it with you when I see you next? We’ll use it to evoke memories. Smell is one of the most powerful tools.’ I nodded and opened the car door. ‘You’ll be fine. I’m on your side.’
It was then I decided I liked him; that I thought maybe I had finally found someone I could trust, and with a lighter heart, I entered the station.
CHAPTER 11
As I opened the door to the station, I found Paul stood with a young man I didn’t recognise. He introduced himself as Tom Dixon, a Family Liaison Officer, looking after Paul. Fiona joined us. The situation wasn’t a million miles from the family courts. Paul had his team and I had mine.
Fiona smiled at me and suggested we make a move toward the conference room. She told FLO Dixon the conference was due to start in a couple of minutes.
‘How you doing, Sophie? How did it go with Darren?’
I started to explain but DI Ward had arrived and stood beside me.
‘OK, Sophie. I’m sure Fiona has already explained that it’s best if you read out the statement we’ve prepared.’
‘What does Paul read out?’
DI Ward explained, ‘I think it’s best coming from you. As the mother.’
Paul had now joined the group and FLO Dixon hovered over his right shoulder. His hand went up as if to pat Paul on the shoulder, maybe to placate him.
‘I’m not sure it is necessarily better coming from Sophie, is it?’ Paul queried.
‘I really think it is, Paul. Look, if it doesn’t work out, and we need to hold another press conference tomorrow, then I will consider you reading out a statement.’
Paul grumbled something inaudible but made no more fuss.
‘OK, I’ll speak first, then, Sophie, I’ll ask you to say a few words.’ The detective looked at us in turn. ‘OK? Everyone happy?’
I shot a sidelong look at Paul and he met my gaze; a look of sorrow passed over his face. Less than twenty-four hours ago, Amy was in Paul’s care, I was getting ready to meet Amy and Paul in Chiswick and it had been my birthday. Now, we were stood outside a room full of reporters. DI Ward had said the first twenty-four hours were crucial and that this press conference could produce valuable leads. I imagined Amy staring at a television set somewhere, watching our faces appear on the screen as we pleaded for her to get in contact. Or, if she was being held prisoner, that her kidnappers would see sense and let her go. These thoughts streamed through my mind, one after another.
As we entered, DI Ward directed me to sit in the middle, Paul on one side and she the other.
‘OK?’ DI Ward looked at both of us and we nodded.
An expanse of faces sat in row upon row of plastic chairs. I couldn’t really focus on anyone in particular and it reminded me of the one time I had been cast as a main part in a school play. I remembered, then, feeling awash with nerves but once the lights were on me and I was running through the lines we had practised for months, I drew comfort from not being able to make out anyone’s face or features.
DI Ward coughed and started, ‘Ladies and gentlemen …’ She talked for a few minutes, giving only the facts: Amy’s appearance, location, time, and date. I watched her mouth move and I only tuned back in when she said, ‘Obviously, as you know, the first twenty-four hours are the most important and we urge the public to help in any way they can.’ Then she looked at me and nodded. ‘Ms Fraiser.’
I cleared my throat and clutched the piece of paper in my hands. It was only then that I realised I was trembling and the words on the page kept bobbing up and down like fishermen’s boats at sea. My cheeks started to warm and I looked to Paul for help. He went to take the piece of paper off me but I ignored the script, and the words just tumbled out of my mouth.
‘Please, Amy, if you are listening, if you see this, please know that neither your father,’ I said, looking at Paul, ‘nor myself are in any way angry with you. We just want you home as soon as possible.’ Tears filled my eyes and my voice wavered with emotion. ‘If you have our daughter, please, please, let her go. She needs to be with her parents.’ Paul grabbed my hand. ‘Amy is so precious to us and we couldn’t bear to think anything might have …’ I breathed deeply. ‘Please, give us our daughter back.’
I couldn’t make out the reaction in the room but seconds later, a quiet, almost excited hum started up.
‘Well done,’ DI Ward whispered to me and then louder, ‘OK, any questions?’
A tall, languid-looking man stood, his leather jacket swamping his frame.
‘Is it true that your daughter doesn’t live with you, Ms Fraiser?’
I straightened, my heart beating loudly in my ears. DI Ward was already on her feet.
‘Please stick to the relevant information here,’ she said quickly.
‘And,’ continued the same reporter, his voice rising over the rippling murmurs, ‘is it true that you’re an alcoholic?’
‘I …’ I started to speak, ‘I haven’t …’ I was floundering, falling backward.
‘OK, no more questions.’ The DI already had me on my feet, her hand guiding me firmly out the door. We bustled out of the room one after another. My face was flushed and my cheeks prickled as the hubbub in the room rose to a deafening level. Outside, in the comparative qu
iet of the corridor, Fiona came up to me and handed me a tissue.
‘You did well in there, Sophie,’ she said and rubbed the top of my arm. ‘Never easy.’
DI Ward headed over and smiled at me, but I noticed the corners of her mouth twitching. ‘Sophie, that was great. Just what we needed.’ She took the press statement off me; I was still clutching it in my right hand, stunned. ‘Let Fiona drive you back home, OK? I’ll be in touch.’
‘How did he know?’ I could barely speak, my throat cotton dry.
‘Don’t worry.’ The detective tried to dismiss it but I could tell she was riled, which riled me in turn.
‘This is going to look bad, isn’t it?’ My eyes scanned the detective’s face; I knew she was waiting for the nation to turn on me. The headlines were already swimming before my eyes. Alcoholic mother loses child at fairground. Child too afraid to live with mother; runs away.
Stunned, I turned to follow Fiona, only to find Paul standing right behind me. He took a step forward and awkwardly rested his hand on my arm; I flinched.
‘I’m sorry.’
‘Sorry?’ My eyes flashed. ‘Did you let it out? Did you tell a reporter about our situation? Is this all because of the court case?’ Spittle leapt from my mouth as I brought my face closer to his.
He shook his head, took a step backward. ‘That this had to happen to us. I haven’t told anyone anything.’
So many lies.
I tried to calm myself. ‘Paul, talk to me.’
His gaze dropped to the floor and he started to move off. I grabbed his hand.
‘Paul, please. I know you don’t want me to have custody of Amy. Is this what it’s all about?’
He remained very still, not looking at me. ‘See you tomorrow, Sophie, at the next conference.’
‘They might find her today,’ I said, injecting false hope into my voice.
‘See you tomorrow,’ he repeated and I let go of his hand. He walked off to join FLO Dixon by the door.
Fiona came over. ‘You OK?’ Her eyes flicked toward Paul.
‘I just want to know why he would do this.’ I jammed my hands into my pockets. ‘He loves her, Fiona, he loves Amy so much. That’s why none of this makes any sense at all.’
