The Reunion: An utterly gripping psychological thriller with a jaw-dropping twist

by Samantha Hayes

  ‘They’re not spam calls,’ Claire said thoughtfully. ‘There’s just no one there.’ There’d been a lull for a couple of weeks, but in the last day or so they’d begun again. No one ever said anything, but occasionally she’d heard breathing, the sound of a car in the background and once, the wail of a child.

  She wondered whether to call the police. Would they think them significant? She guessed they wouldn’t, not after all this time.

  ‘Everything’s up to date,’ Claire said an hour later. She double-checked a pile of papers, the draft sale particulars for Trevellin Farm included. Her parents would be sent a copy soon. She wasn’t in any rush.

  ‘Right, I’m off.’ Jason and Greta were due at six and she wanted to get started on preparing dinner. She went through to the office’s little kitchen and removed a package from the fridge. ‘Fresh squid,’ she said on the way out, holding up her purchase from the fishmonger’s earlier. ‘Jason’s favourite.’

  Jeff wrinkled his nose, giving her a brief hug.

  ‘Remember the viewing tomorrow morning,’ she said. ‘It’s important.’ She slung her bag over her shoulder and left the office. Outside the air was humid and heavy with the scent of the harbour. It caused her heart to skip as she walked to her car, and as she drove off she made a mental checklist, ensuring she’d got everything for the meal. She didn’t want to have to dash out later – tonight was important. She wanted to talk to Jason about reconciling with their father. It was time to let the past go.

  By 4.45 p.m. Claire had picked up Amy, driven home, fed Russ and bribed Marcus to take him for a walk. She set out all the ingredients needed and made herself a cup of tea. When she saw the telephone answerphone light flashing, she pressed the button in passing. There were messages from the window cleaner, the local garage about an MOT, and Greta asking if there was anything she could pick up on the way. Then Claire stumbled back against the kitchen wall, shaking as she heard the final message. She covered her face with her hands, feeling sick and disgusted.

  ‘What’s up, love? You look as if you’ve seen a ghost.’ Callum had just come in. He took her gently by the shoulders. ‘Are you OK?’

  ‘I’m fine,’ she said quietly, gathering herself. She pushed past him, pressing the delete button over and over until the vile message had gone away. She instantly regretted doing so, although nothing could erase the words from her mind.

  Chapter Ten

  ‘Here, have some more wine,’ Claire said, topping up Jason’s glass. The evening was going well, and it was wonderful to see her brother and Greta, but by nine o’clock she was seriously considering calling the police. Initially, she’d convinced herself the message wasn’t meant for her, or that it was just kids playing a prank or a wrong number. She wondered, too, if she’d misheard it, although she could still remember every sick word. But denying or distorting facts wasn’t helping.

  Greta was huge and glowing, just as Claire had imagined, and they’d discussed babies and birthing and even moved on to the subject of schools. She tried not to seem distracted but couldn’t focus. The voice had been unfamiliar and there’d definitely been background noise on the crackly message – a lawnmower or engine, perhaps? Dialling 1471 was no use because a friend had called after the message was left. She’d been the target of a malicious call and she had no idea why.

  ‘Claire, that was absolutely delicious. And they thoroughly approve.’ Greta put down her knife and fork and smoothed her hands over her large belly.

  Everyone fell silent, grins spreading.

  ‘They?’ Claire stared first at Greta, then at Jason.

  ‘It’s twins,’ Jason announced. ‘We’ve known for a while but thought we’d wait to tell you face-to-face.’

  Claire clapped a hand over her mouth. ‘That’s wonderful! I’m going to be an aunty twice over.’ It was exactly what she needed to help her forget.

  ‘It came as a bit of a shock,’ Greta said, laughing. ‘But we’re used to the idea now. In fact, we’re delighted.’

  Claire could see that pregnancy suited Greta. Her blonde hair was glossy and thick, and her skin radiant even with a minimum of make-up. With her well-paid job in the city, she was able to afford maternity clothes that made it seem chic to have a fifty-inch waist.

  ‘That’s why they don’t want me to fly now. Twins often come early and I’m already thirty-five weeks. Chances are they’ll be born within the next two or three weeks.’

  ‘Perhaps I should bring home some scrubs and forceps,’ Callum said with a laugh.

  ‘Oh please have the babies here, Aunty Greta,’ Amy piped up. ‘They can sleep in my room. And make them girls. I want a little sister, but Mummy says I can’t have one.’ She pouted and smiled at the same time, squirming in her seat. A trick that usually won her what she wanted with her long lashes and rosebud lips.

  ‘I don’t know if they’re boys or girls,’ Greta told Amy. ‘And I don’t think you’d want them sleeping in your room, sweetie.’

  ‘I do so.’

  ‘Then you’ll have to put up with changing their nappies and feeding them all night long.’

  ‘Remember it well,’ Callum said, groaning.

  Claire raised her eyebrows, though didn’t say anything. She was feeling the first flare of a headache. She’d only had two glasses of wine, but the damned message was still on her mind. For Jason’s sake at least, she wanted to enjoy the evening. One of the conditions of him coming was that it would just be the four adults plus Amy and Marcus tonight, to ease him back into being at home, even if he wasn’t staying at the farmhouse itself. He hadn’t been up there yet, and Claire knew not to press the point. Coming to Trevellin was a huge deal for him. She had to play by his rules for now.

  ‘We’re going to draw up a contract about nappies and feeds, aren’t we, darling?’ Greta looked directly at Jason and smiled. Then she pressed a hand on her belly and pulled a face. ‘Don’t worry. Just a Braxton Hicks.’ She relaxed again.

  ‘How much time are you taking off?’ Claire asked.

  ‘As little as possible. In my business, if you’re away from your desk too long, then you can expect some young hotshot to have taken it over when you get back. Probably two weeks. Less if I feel OK.’

  Claire immediately sensed the tension between Jason and Greta. ‘Good for you,’ she said. ‘I don’t see why women should feel guilty about going back to work straight away if they want to. And it’s perfect really, isn’t it, Jase, with you being at home?’

  ‘Unemployed, you mean,’ he said, downing his wine.

  ‘How is the thespian business these days?’ Callum asked. Claire tried to nudge his foot but clipped the table leg instead.

  ‘I got a walk-on, walk-off part in a fizzy pop advert last week.’ Jason was deadpan.

  ‘That’s great,’ Claire said.

  ‘A forty-five second ad and my bit didn’t make the final cut.’

  No one said anything, so Claire cleared away the plates, insisting Greta stay seated when she tried to help. Jason followed her out to the kitchen, carrying a couple of serving dishes.

  ‘That was a lovely meal, sis.’ They faced each other, unable to deliver the hug they both felt was in order because of the stack of crockery between them. ‘Sorry if I seemed a bit hacked off just then.’

  ‘I understand,’ she said. ‘Just dump those over there.’

  He put the dishes by the sink.

  ‘Jase, someone left a really sick message for me today.’ She wrapped her arms around her body. ‘And I’ve had other calls too. I hear breathing and weird noises and then they just hang up.’

  Jason frowned. ‘What did the message say? Can you play it to me?’ He looked concerned.

  ‘Stupidly, I deleted it,’ she said. ‘It was a man. His voice was strange, like he was growling. He swore a couple of times and said stuff I couldn’t understand. But then… then he said…’ Claire let out a little sob. ‘Then he said I know where she is…’ Claire covered her face.

  ‘Oh, Claire, tha
t’s awful. Come here.’ Jason hugged her. ‘Did you call the police?’

  ‘No. Do you think I should?’

  They gave each other a knowing look.

  ‘What did Callum say?’

  ‘I haven’t told him. I didn’t think there was any point worrying him.’

  Jason nodded and made a thoughtful sound. ‘If you get another one, don’t delete it.’ He eased her away, looking her in the eye. ‘I can call the police for you if you like?’

  Claire nodded. ‘Thanks, but they’ll probably say it was just a prank.’

  In the early days, her parents had received a spate of calls ranging from fake bed and breakfast bookings made in Lenni’s name, psychic cranks claiming to know where her body had been dumped, to menacing whispers in the dead of night telling them they’d burn in hell for losing their little girl.

  The police investigated the calls as much as resources would allow, but none of them helped find Lenni. In the end, Patrick didn’t bother to report them until they finally dwindled and burned themselves out. Until now.

  ‘Let’s try to put it out of our minds. Help me with dessert, would you?’

  She put on a glove and slid the large dish from the oven while Jason carried the bowls. She headed for the dining room but stopped. ‘It’s really good to see you, Jase,’ she said, unflinching as the heat scorched through the glove.

  Chapter Eleven

  Marcus lay on his bed. He was stuffed from all that food. It was good to see Uncle Jason, but he’d wanted to get back to his room to see if that girl was still online. He’d made his excuses at the table, but could tell his mum wasn’t impressed.

  He opened Messenger.

  —when u arriving? he typed. He replied to three other conversations he was having with mates from school, bragging about the girl called Rain who was coming to stay, sending them a picture of her to prove he wasn’t lying about how hot she was.

  —she’ll be staying right next door to me, he typed as fast as he could. He reckoned he was suddenly going to be very popular.

  —early AF was Rain’s reply. —what’s to do near you? sounds grim.

  She was right about that, Marcus thought, suddenly feeling different about the village he’d grown up in and always loved. But he wasn’t about to confess that they lived in the middle of nowhere in case she changed her mind about coming.

  —cool stuff, he typed, hoping that would convince her. They could go to Newquay, he supposed. And he could teach her to surf. He’d like to see her in a bikini. —decent clubs, great beaches.

  More messages came in as his mates learnt of Rain’s imminent arrival. There was a definite shortage of pretty girls in their year. Not only was Rain stunningly gorgeous, as he’d shown them all, but, even though they weren’t Facebook friends yet and he couldn’t see her birthday, she’d said she was his age. At least they’d all be able to get into the clubs. Marcus had looked at a couple of her pictures, but her privacy settings were strict, and he’d tried not to stalk her too much. He didn’t want to feel creepy.

  Suddenly, Rain was offline.

  Marcus threw his phone down beside him. Only eight hours until he met her, he thought, sticking in his earphones, falling asleep in his clothes.

  * * *

  Greta had gone to bed. She’d thanked her hosts profusely, confessing to hardly being able to keep her eyes open much after nine o’clock these days, so making it to eleven was an achievement.

  ‘Scary business, this having babies lark,’ Callum said with a knowing laugh. He’d got out the whisky, which Claire didn’t think was a terribly good idea seeing as Maggie and Rain were arriving in time for an early breakfast. Maggie had decided to leave at an ungodly hour to avoid the traffic.

  ‘I think it would be scarier not having them.’ Jason took the tumbler, swirling the liquid in the glass, thinking how grateful he was that he would soon be a dad.

  Claire declined the whisky, sticking to tea. It was a mild night and the French doors were open. Insects darted about in the border between light and dark, while Claire breathed in the sea breeze. The evening had been a success despite the phone message. Several glasses of wine, a good meal and her thankfully waning headache had all served to make her conclude that the call was most likely a cruel prank.

  ‘We didn’t get to see much of Marcus tonight,’ Jason said.

  ‘Perfectly normal,’ Claire replied. ‘Once he hit thirteen, it was as if anyone outside his circle of friends didn’t exist.’ She laughed. ‘And he’s hard-wired into his phone.’

  Callum muttered something about his son being a recluse as he settled down in the armchair with his drink. Claire knew he’d had a hard week. ‘Personally, I don’t see the appeal of all that social media stuff,’ he went on, laying back his head. ‘Give me a newspaper or a dog to walk and I’m happy.’

  ‘You’re just easy to please,’ Claire said. ‘Or getting old.’ She patted his leg. Things had become so routine between them over the years that she only realised how much she loved all that when reminded of the simple things. She hoped he felt the same – contented, grateful, happy.

  ‘Just so you know, I won’t be around much next week. I have my clinics and operating schedule as normal.’

  ‘I understand.’ But Claire couldn’t help the pang of regret wondering if Callum somehow felt sidelined. He’d not been part of their group when they were younger. ‘When Maggie and Rain arrive in the morning, we’ll have a lazy catch-up breakfast, then see what they feel like doing.’

  ‘What kind of a name is Rain?’ Callum said.

  ‘A typical Maggie name,’ Jason replied, smiling fondly.

  ‘I was at medical school. I don’t really know her.’

  Claire thought how strange and impossible it would have seemed to her thirteen-year-old self to be dating a twenty-three-year-old man. Only when they met again in her late teens did the ten-year age difference suddenly seem less unacceptable. And Callum kept himself fit, running several times a week and always eating healthily. Plus, she couldn’t have wished for a better father. He was as happy in the operating theatre as he was rolling about on the floor with his daughter or setting up her doll’s house. They were content. The four of them. A family.

  Why then, Claire wondered, did her stomach twist in knots when Jason asked about Nick’s arrival?

  ‘Is he bringing his wife?’ Callum asked.

  ‘I’m not actually sure.’ She forced herself to sound casual, making a mental note to iron the sundress she’d bought earlier in the week. It had been on display in the boutique window on Monday morning and by lunchtime it was in a bag under her desk.

  It was the truth – she didn’t know if Nick was coming alone or with his family. Like the first, her second conversation with him had been curtailed. While he’d quickly agreed to the reunion, they hadn’t had the time to discuss much about his life. All she knew was that he’d sounded a little tired, a little sad, and very grateful for the chance to take a break.

  ‘I’m off to bed now. I need to get up early for Maggie.’ She kissed her brother on the cheek and gave Callum a quick wave, indicating she’d say good night properly when he came up.

  In the bathroom she removed her make-up, smoothing out the fine lines, wondering if Nick would think she’d aged much since he’d last seen her. She woke later when Callum finally got into bed beside her, but pretended to be asleep. She felt his warm breath on her neck as he kissed her, sensed the roughness of his stubble and smelt the sour tang of whisky mixed with toothpaste as he draped a hopeful arm across her waist.

  Quietly, before sleep took over again, she opened the safekeeping box in her mind and locked up thoughts about the message, stashing them away along with everything else she kept secret in there.

  Chapter Twelve

  When Lenni was five years old, she fell off a cliff. One moment she was scampering over the springy grass, her hair blowing in the onshore breeze and her little skirt flapping around her skinny legs, and the next moment she’d completely
disappeared. They’d only looked away for a moment.

  ‘Where did she go?’ Patrick said, gripping onto Shona while frantically glancing around. He was trying to sound calm, but his insides had ignited.

  ‘She was chasing gulls,’ Shona replied, also scanning around for their daughter. Her hand slowly went up to her mouth as Patrick tore off towards the edge of the cliff, calling Lenni’s name. She’d been drilled about going too close to the edge and they’d only stopped a moment to check the dog’s paw because he’d been limping. When they looked up, Lenni had gone.

  ‘Lenni…’ Shona screamed. ‘El–ea–nor, where are you?’ Her heart thrashed inside her chest as she ran to join her husband. He was standing frozen at the cliff edge with his hands clawing at his head.

  ‘Get help!’ he yelled back at Shona. ‘She’s gone over.’

  Shona could hardly bear to look down. Even if she’d survived the drop, she’d have landed on craggy rocks. Through narrowed eyes, Shona forced herself to lean over and look. She saw her little girl lying on her back in the only patch of soft sand within the expanse of barnacle-encrusted rocks. She was staring up at them, giggling.

  ‘I was chasing the gulls,’ she said with a croaky voice, but then her laughs turned to bubbling cries and she held out her arms to be picked up.

  Somehow, Patrick scrambled down the rocks, dropping more than climbing. ‘Lenni, oh my darling baby, what have you done?’ He leapt over the rocks to get to the oasis of sand. He hurled himself onto his knees and ran his hands over her body. ‘Does it hurt anywhere? Can you move your legs?’ Then he saw the blood streaming from her head.

  Lenni squinted up at her mother on the clifftop. She gave a little wave through her waning sobs, half sitting up. ‘I’m OK, Daddy,’ she said, allowing herself to be scooped up and cuddled, the blood dripping from behind her ear. ‘I wanted to fly like the seagulls.’