by Louise Stone
‘Thank you for everything,’ I said.
She nodded. ‘I’m always on my mobile, OK?’
Once we heard the front door close, Oliver leant heavily on the doorframe. ‘DI Ward didn’t beat around the bush. She wanted to know if it was coincidence that I turn up on the scene and Amy goes missing.’
I remained quiet.
‘You don’t actually think the same do you?’ He righted himself, searched my face for answers.
I tried to remain impassive, despite the niggling doubt at the back of my mind. I mean, hadn’t Oliver always wanted to play happy families? Life was so black and white to him. He had come back, wanting the old me; the ‘me’ before Bethany had died. That me didn’t exist any more. Or at least, it was suppressed.
‘No, of course not,’ I said, turning on a reassuring smile, ‘I mean that’s ridiculous, questioning you. Is that really all they’ve got? At this rate, Amy will just turn into a number on the missing persons register.’
Oliver nodded and visibly relaxed his shoulders. ‘Just her job, I guess.’
Then I thought about Paul. A man who had never made out he wanted to play happy families, and yet now was lying to me, the police. Why was I focusing on Oliver when it was really Paul who was unable to tell the truth?
‘What are you thinking?’ Oliver looked at me, concerned.
‘Why they’re not pushing Paul. He’s the one who claims not to have been at the fairground.’ I feigned slapping my head. ‘Oh no, that’s right, I’m the fruit loop alcoholic who makes stuff up. Paul is innocent.’
‘I guess they have to explore all options,’ he said mildly, and once again I was torn: maybe Oliver had done something to Amy, maybe he wanted us to be together. Just us. His reaction to Amy’s disappearance at times felt so bland, so non-committal. It was angering and unnerving all at once.
‘What’s that supposed to mean?’
‘That nothing is as it seems.’
‘What are you trying to say, Oliver?’
‘I’m just saying, th-that,’ he stammered, ‘I can kind of see where the detective is coming from. You know, that nothing is very clear at the moment.’
I lifted myself up off the floor and tried to ignore the knots forming in my stomach. Suddenly defiant, I walked toward him. We stood inches apart.
‘I think it’s best you leave. For good this time.’
Oliver’s face grew quietly livid.
‘You know what, Sophie? What your problem is? You can’t stand people questioning you. You don’t want to admit that maybe your story does sound a bit strange. I come back, make contact again and you want me around when it’s convenient. At university, you would break up with me and you would push me away. Then you would reel me back in. I fell for it over and over again. Now, you’re doing the same.’ I could hear the bitterness in Oliver’s voice. Years of unresolved tension had begun to surface.
‘I will go, Sophie. Because you’re not yourself right now. I’ll come back when you’re calmer. But do me a favour and just think about what you’re doing. What you’ve always done. You use people and dump them when you don’t need them any more.’ He stopped abruptly and I looked at him. ‘Why do you keep pushing me away? One minute you want me here and the next you don’t. You’re like two people. So tell me, why? What have I ever done to deserve the way you treat me?’
His questioning was visceral and raw and I stood, unmoving. I couldn’t tell him the truth: that he had been easy. When I needed him, he was there, willing to be my boyfriend and when I wanted Bethany’s attention, he would disappear. Only, I realised with bubbling resentment, he never disappeared entirely. The thing is, I wanted to play happy families with him. I really did. In fact, I craved a happy family, the idea of one. But the reality was that I had never made that connection with anyone. Amy was my family and that was just fine.
He continued, ‘You just don’t get how selfish you are and you don’t see that I love you. I always have done. I want to help you find your little girl.’ His voice had softened but the words remained coated with a sticky unpleasantness. ‘God only knows, I can’t imagine what it would be like if I never saw Annabel again. If you think about it, we’re kind of the same like that. I see my daughter every two months if I’m lucky. I want to make sure you find your daughter.’
I felt defeated, and moved toward the window. My heart thundered in my chest and I didn’t trust myself to speak. He was right, I needed him and I was pushing him away – again. He had been there for me in the Priory, and he had come back into my life a month ago telling me he loved me and wanted me back – I hadn’t asked questions, I was grateful for the companionship – and now he wanted to help me find Amy. My selfishness matched his selflessness.
The sun was setting fast. Another day gone and Amy was still missing.
‘Sophie, you have to let me in. If you want me to help, let me in.’ Oliver put his hand on my shoulder. ‘Let me in, Sophie.’
I turned to him and cradled his face in my hands. ‘I’m sorry. I truly am sorry. You deserve so much better. I sometimes wonder what our lives would be like if …’
‘I know. I know …’ he said and added, ‘and I’m sorry. I was out of order.’ He took me in his arms. ‘Come here.’ A few moments later, he said, ‘You know you’ve never told me you love me, Sophie.’
I looked at him and I started to say it, but something stopped me. It was dangerous to need someone, to rely on someone: I knew that. I had loved my parents and lost them too young, I had loved Bethany and lost her. Love was too easily lost. I knew that my search for Amy was up to me, and me alone. I couldn’t involve anyone else for fear of putting Amy’s life at risk. But also because I wasn’t sure if I could really trust Oliver. I’m not sure if I could really trust anyone.
Oliver led me to the sofa and we sat down, leaning back into the cushions. His strong hands gently caressed my hair. My eyelids grew increasingly heavy and I started to drift off. After a few minutes, Oliver slid his arms underneath me, and carried me upstairs. Gently, he placed me on top of the covers and bent down to take off my shoes. He tucked a blanket around my body and before he had even left the room, I closed my eyes. I felt him watching me and I held my breath, waiting for him to leave the room. It was like he could see straight through me, he knew and understood stuff about me that even I didn’t want to acknowledge. I buried myself further in the duvet and wondered if he really would do anything – including kidnap my child – to have me all to himself.
In the morning, he was gone. He left a note telling me he would return tomorrow evening, to call him on his mobile if I needed anything. My heart and mind wrestled with his absence. Shivering, I went back into the bedroom and climbed under the duvet. The world was a cold and lonely place. The empty house a reminder of everything missing in my life and, yet, I preferred it like that. No one prying into my business, no one searching my face for answers I couldn’t give.
I set my alarm, ready to meet Darren at lunchtime and fell into a fitful sleep.
Darren had come to the house. He had asked me to dig out all my photos of my time at university. I looked at them now, scattered across the table and gently fondled them one by one. The perfume bottle was there too.
‘OK, Sophie, you’re doing really well. I need you to concentrate on your senses.’ He smiled gently. ‘Like we’ve done before. Sounds weird but our memory is not confined to images, we can smell and touch, too, if we allow our minds to open up.’
I nodded, unsure.
‘OK, let’s take this one here.’ He picked up a photo of Bethany and me, with people dancing in the background. Something about the image made my heart momentarily flutter with anxiety. ‘Now, this looks interesting. When do you think this was one taken?’
‘I was nineteen,’ I said, not skipping a beat. It was as if my heart and mind had memorised it.
‘OK, would you mind opening the perfume and smelling it?’
I took off the lid and spritzed some of the musky droplets onto my wris
t, breathing it in deeply. I hadn’t allowed myself to open the bottle before now. My breath caught as a fresh tide of grief washed over me, and I choked back a sob.
‘OK, I know this is hard, but are you ready to start?’ I nodded. ‘Now I want you to close your eyes.’
He started to talk in his drawn-out, dulcet tones causing me to feel almost sleepy and I felt my body and mind giving way to the past.
‘Tell me what you can smell.’
‘Smoke,’ I answered softly. ‘Lots of cigarette smoke. Weed too.’
‘Is it hot? The room?’
‘Yes, too hot.’
‘OK, what else can you see or feel?’ I could sense him nodding encouragement. ‘Just tell me everything you remember.’
‘The party – organised by some third years – was heaving, the house overflowing with students and drink.’ I stopped and let out a small gasp at how clear Bethany’s face was in front of me.
‘What is it, Sophie?’
‘Bethany.’ I put my hand out, gesturing to the thin air. ‘It’s the first time I’ve seen her that clearly in such a long time.’
‘That’s good. That’s a good sign.’ He paused. ‘Go on.’
‘I ignored everything but Bethany that night. I remember she moved her hips with ease to the bass.’ I blushed. ‘It was kind of sensual, you know?’
‘Yes.’
I didn’t want to open my eyes, I felt self-conscious now and my eyes started to well as the image faded.
‘Sophie, just relax. I don’t care what you say to me. This is about you now and what you can access.’ He waited. ‘Relax and tell me who else was there.’
I nodded, took a deep breath and the image came back, but now Oliver was there.
‘Oliver was there and he said to me something like, “Are you listening?” He was shouting to me over the music.’ I startled myself at remembering such detail, opening my eyes. Darren was nodding and I closed them again. ‘Oliver asked me to repeat what he had just said.’
‘And could you?’ Darren asked. ‘Had you been listening?’
‘No, I hadn’t.’ I cleared my throat. ‘I remember focusing on Oliver, his face was all expectant. I started to tell him that he had been talking about his match, but I stopped because I hadn’t actually listened to more than a few sentences.’
‘Why hadn’t you been listening?’
‘I had spotted Bethany.’ Again, no hesitation.
‘What was Bethany doing?’
‘Dancing.’
‘Tell me about her dancing,’ Darren encouraged.
‘She shifted effortlessly from side to side, her arms winding gracefully above her head, a spliff in her hand.’ I paused, my heart suddenly pounding against my chest.
‘Go on. What happened next?’
‘A guy, tall and blond, edged his way closer to her.’
‘Right, and what did you feel?’
‘I felt jealous.’
‘OK, this is good, Sophie. Why did you feel jealous?’
‘Because he was snaking himself around her body and they started to,’ I paused, reddening again, ‘writhe against each other. I remember the blond guy leant down to her and whispered something.’ I let out a small sob. I sensed Darren stop writing. ‘Then Bethany tilted her head back and flashed him a smile and wink.’
‘What did you do then?’
‘I didn’t move and I remember Oliver staring at me, then Bethany, in turn.’
‘What did Oliver do?’ Darren’s pen started to scratch the surface again.
‘He came over. Asked me something like, “Have you and Beth fallen out or something?” Then he pulled me into him.’
I shivered now at the memory of his touch, when all I had yearned for was Bethany.
‘He joked about. Asked me if I wanted to show Bethany and this guy how to really dance.’ I snorted now. ‘It was funny in the sense that Oliver’s got two left feet, but I remember hating him. I remember wishing he would go away.’
‘Why’s that?’
I opened my eyes now, looked at Darren. ‘I wanted to know why I couldn’t have one night where, like Bethany, I’d be confident enough to dance alone and have guys approach me? It was like watching your sister being more popular than you.’
He nodded, pensive. ‘Close your eyes again, Sophie. Keep going if you can.’ He waited until I had settled. ‘What did you do next?’
‘I remember pushing Oliver away. Told him I was too hot and that I needed to go outside, get some air. He asked if he could come.’ A fresh wave of guilt washed over me. ‘I had said no.’
‘What did Oliver do?’
‘He walked off and I turned, trying to make my way through the throng of students dancing in the front room in order to get out.’
‘OK, go on. What were you feeling at this point?’
‘Confused, a bit depressed.’ I waited, tried to delve further. ‘I started to make my way out but someone tapped me on the shoulder. I turned and saw Bethany.’
‘What did she do?’
‘Asked me where I was going. I told her I was getting some air.’ I let out a small chuckle. ‘The blond guy clearly didn’t take to the interruption and tugged on Bethany’s elbow but she shrugged him off, shouted something in his direction.’
I smiled now, remembering how satisfying it was watching him jerk his head back in surprise and saunter away.
‘Keep talking aloud, Sophie. It’ll be helpful to me later.’
I did. I told Darren how I remembered Bethany had pulled me toward her. We stood inches apart. I could smell her perfume, just like the night we first met: the scent of wild flowers on a sweet, spring breeze. Bethany’s face glistened with sweat and I thought how alive she looked. How beautiful she looked.
‘She asked me to dance with her and I panicked.’
‘Why did you panic?’
‘She was so natural at dancing, I didn’t want her to be disappointed in my dancing.’
‘So you said no?’
‘No, she took my hands in hers and put my arms around her waist.’
‘What did that feel like?’ Darren asked.
‘Safe. She had an amazing way of teaching me to do things I was afraid of,’ I giggled, ‘like dancing.’
I felt Darren smile back.
‘So she guided you?’
‘Yes, I remember looking into her eyes and thinking how dark they were, so rich.’
‘That’s good, Sophie. A good memory.’
‘She gave me the spliff.’ I furrowed my brow as that memory jolted me out of the happy place I had been. ‘And I didn’t really want it, but I took it. She said it would relax me.’
‘What did you feel when you found yourself smoking it and yet, by the sounds of it, you didn’t want to?’
‘Confused that I felt a need to impress her all the time.’
‘Can you remember what the atmosphere in the room was like?’
I squeezed my eyes more tightly shut. ‘Yeah, the music was making the floorboards shake and it was boiling. Too hot. I remember Oliver watching me. Watching us.’
‘What did he do?’
‘Just stood there staring, a strange look on his face.’
‘Can you define the look? Was he angry?’
‘Possibly.’ I nodded my head. ‘Jealous too, I guess.’
‘What happened then?’
‘Bethany, I think she saw me look over at Oliver and she walked off. I went to see if Oliver was OK and, by the time I made it across the room, he had disappeared.’
‘How did you feel at that point?’
‘I felt my head start to pound, I remember feeling sick and dizzy. I don’t remember much after that. Possibly I had had too much of the spliff.’
My eyes snapped open, disturbed by the clarity of the memory.
Darren said, ‘Do you know why Oliver came back into your life recently? Has he given you a reason?’
The warmth of remembering Bethany’s body close to mine was replaced by a feeling of cold, hard unc
ertainty.
‘He said he loves me, that we were good together.’
‘And were you?’
‘Yes, I think so.’ I shrugged, my lower lip quivering. ‘I mean we were, it’s just that Bethany held this power over me.’
‘Are you homosexual?’
‘No.’ I was surprised at how quickly I responded. ‘No, I’m not. But I realised with Bethany that she drew me in, in a way I’ve never been able to understand to this day.’
‘You needed her?’
‘Yes, I needed her.’
‘Did you need her more than Oliver?’
I cleared my throat. ‘Yes.’
‘Do you think Oliver has anything to do with Amy’s disappearance?’
‘No,’ I said quickly, then added, ‘I don’t think so.’
‘And how do you feel now that Oliver is back?’
‘Happy,’ I said firmly and a moment later admitted, ‘and a bit scared.’
‘Why scared?’
‘Because he reminds of a time I want to forget.’
Darren pursed his lips before asking, ‘Do you think you can trust him?’
I remembered my doubt only hours before. ‘I think so.’ I shook my head. ‘Actually, I don’t know. If you’re asking do I find it strange he comes back into my life weeks before Amy goes missing, maybe. But do you know what it’s like to never know who you can trust?’
Darren blinked. ‘You won’t believe it, but to an extent, yes I do. It’s why I started working these cases. I want to help people like you.’
I nodded. ‘Then you’ll know that I don’t trust anyone but somewhere, deep down, I know I need to trust someone or I’m not going to find my little girl.’
‘OK, I think it might be helpful if you ask Oliver what he remembers, specifically about Bethany. Does he believe she was murdered?’
‘No, he’s adamant that it was suicide. In fact, he gets angry when I mention it.’
‘How does that make you feel?’
‘Confused.’
‘Do you think it would be useful to get Oliver to sit in on one of our sessions?’
I couldn’t tell from the tone of his voice if DI Ward had put him up to that or if he genuinely thought Oliver’s presence would help.
