‘And do you think it could help, from a medical point of view?’
‘Yes, it’s called reminiscence therapy and can be effective for some patients. I have occupational therapists on the brain injury ward who use similar techniques.’
‘Such as?’
‘Playing a patient’s favourite music from the past can be helpful, looking at old photographs, talking about childhood events, remembering their careers, that kind of thing. Family members can help with this too. In fact, it’s more effective coming from them.’
‘So your wife was quite right in organising the reunion for the benefit of her father’s health?’
‘Yes, most definitely,’ he said. ‘I was all for the idea.’
PC Wyndham was silent for a moment before plucking a tissue from a box. She handed it to Callum to wipe his fingers. ‘So, tell me, then, Mr Rodway. Why did my desk sergeant just overhear you telling – sorry, ordering – your wife to send her friends home immediately?’
* * *
Callum called his secretary, telling her to reschedule his first couple of patients.
‘We appreciate the extra time you’re sparing us,’ PC Wyndham said, once they’d gone into the interview room.
‘Did I have a choice?’ Callum adjusted his tie, laying his ink-stained hands flat on the table in front of him. His back was straight in the uncomfortable plastic chair.
‘Not really,’ PC Holt said, making Callum want to punch the smug grin straight off his face.
‘I’m sure my patients won’t mind waiting another hour or so, given that most of them have been waiting months to see me anyway.’ He folded his arms. It felt better that way.
‘We’re trying to build up a picture of the current situation, as well as any links to the past,’ PC Wyndham said.
Callum nodded, wondering if this was a good time to ask for a solicitor. But doing that would only drag things out.
‘Some of these questions might seem direct, but it’s nothing to worry about.’ She underlined something with her finger in the stack of papers between them. PC Holt nodded, blank-faced. ‘Can you start by telling us where you were when Eleanor Lucas went missing?’
‘Eleanor Lucas?’ Callum couldn’t help the laugh. ‘After twenty-one years?’ He shook his head. ‘Claire and her friends were at the beach. Eleanor went off on her own. That was the last anyone ever saw of her.’
‘I asked where you were at the time, Mr Rodway.’
‘You expect me to remember? I’d be making it up.’
‘Let’s try a slightly different question, then,’ PC Holt said. ‘How did you first find out Eleanor had gone missing?’
‘I was staying with my mother at the time. She told me. News spread around the village very quickly.’
‘You’d come back to Cornwall just a week before Eleanor went missing, is that right?’ PC Wyndham glanced down at the file.
‘Yes, that’s correct.’
‘So your memory is actually proving to be quite good, wouldn’t you say?’
‘If I’m reminded, then yes,’ Callum replied. He was a surgeon and refused to be rattled by an idiot cop.
‘Why did you return to the southwest?’ PC Wyndham continued.
‘I was taking up a position at the Royal Cornwall Hospital. I was staying with my mother until I started the job.’
‘I see. There are notes in the file indicating that immediately following Eleanor’s disappearance, you also went missing. Where did you go for three days without telling anyone, Mr Rodway?’
‘And why,’ PC Holt added.
‘I didn’t go missing,’ Callum replied, wishing he actually could. ‘I went camping and fishing near Penzance. I didn’t bother telling anyone where I’d gone. I wanted time alone before I started my new job.’
‘It seems you remember many details very clearly, yet you have trouble recalling exactly where you were the day Eleanor disappeared.’
‘I was most likely at my mother’s house.’
‘When did you begin a relationship with your wife?’
‘It was later that summer, possibly early autumn. As you can imagine, Claire was in a terrible state. Her sister had gone missing and her friends were all heading off to university or college. She decided to defer her place for a year, but never ended up going. We met, grew closer and things developed. By then our age difference didn’t seem so great.’ Callum remembered how she’d fallen in love with him in such a short time.
‘Can you tell us how Eleanor got on with her parents?’
‘I told you, I didn’t know her well. But I’d heard that she was an unusual child.’ Callum paused. He didn’t want to say the wrong thing. ‘She was a bit of a loner. People used to say she was a bit slow. I don’t think she was allowed much freedom. Shona and Patrick can only be accused of doing one bad thing to their daughter.’
‘And what would that be?’ PC Wyndham asked.
‘They loved her too much,’ he replied, thinking he’d leave it at that.
Chapter Forty-Six
Claire arrived back at the farm to find Maggie sitting at the kitchen table with her head resting on folded arms. Shona was doing her best to comfort her while a young officer that Claire didn’t recognise sat beside her.
‘Hi,’ she said to the officer, dropping her bag and keys onto a chair. ‘I’m Claire, Maggie’s friend.’ She stood behind Maggie, about to put her hands on her shoulders. But she stopped, Callum’s words flaring through her mind.
‘PC Jenny Watts,’ said the young woman, rising a little and offering her hand to shake. Claire reckoned she didn’t look much older than Rain. ‘I’ve been assigned as Maggie’s family liaison officer. I’m here to keep you updated, try to answer any questions, that kind of thing.’
Maggie blew her nose as Claire sat down beside her. ‘Have there been any developments?’
‘Not as yet,’ PC Watts said. ‘But we’re doing everything we can.’
‘OK,’ was all Claire managed to say, almost inaudibly. Her mind burned with questions for both the officer and Maggie, but silence won over in case she said the wrong thing.
‘Normally, I’d ask to take a look in Rain’s bedroom,’ PC Watts said. ‘Or maybe we’d go through some of her stuff together, just in case it helped jog a thought about where she might be. But, of course, it’s hard with you being away from home…’ She trailed off, glancing over to the door.
‘We’ll find her,’ Patrick said, joining them. ‘We don’t lose hope in this family.’ His hands were on his hips as he stood at the window, gazing out.
‘Dad,’ Claire said. ‘How are you feeling?’ She wished she could somehow fix him in the present. ‘Let me make you a cup of tea.’ She hated how patronising she sounded.
‘Not too bad, love,’ he said. ‘But I’ll make the tea. You look after…’ He stopped and stared at Maggie, squinting, licking his lips as if he could taste what his mind was searching for. ‘You look after Maggie there.’
‘Thanks, Dad,’ Claire replied, watching as he opened half a dozen kitchen cupboards before realising that the mugs were hanging on hooks on the dresser, as they had done forever.
‘I just went up to my house,’ she told Maggie, sitting opposite. She stared at the empty table between them, trying not to think about what Callum had told her. ‘I had to let a couple of officers inside. They wanted a quick look around, so I left them to it. They’re coming down here after, said they’ll be doing house-to-house enquiries in the village as well as foot searches.’
Claire wasn’t sure why a search of her home was necessary, but she wasn’t about to question their motives. She didn’t like the thought that someone might have been in there, maybe even taken Rain against her will if she’d gone back up there while everyone else was still at the beach. Claire doubted there would be such a police presence here if it hadn’t been for what had gone before.
‘Mags, did you manage to speak to, you know… Peter?’ Claire asked quietly. PC Watts was listening to everything.
&
nbsp; Maggie looked up. She’d stopped crying, as if there were simply no more tears left. She cupped a glass, the water inside quivering from her shaking hands. ‘No,’ she said. ‘I left a message. I don’t suppose he’ll call back.’
‘But she’s his daughter.’ Claire had waited until PC Watts had gone to the toilet, and even then she whispered, leaning across the table.
‘It’s not that simple, Claire.’
‘Mags, you don’t think that Peter came and took Rain, do you?’
‘God, no,’ Maggie replied with certainty. ‘He wouldn’t want her.’
‘If this goes on much longer, I think the police will want to contact him anyway.’
‘You really think so?’ Maggie’s face was tight with worry, as if the long-lasting consequences of the affair had only just occurred to her. For a fleeting moment, Claire wondered if what Callum said was true, that values meant nothing to her.
‘I’d be prepared, that’s all,’ she said, nodding and wondering just how prepared Peter’s wife was to have her life blown apart. ‘Look, Mags, if Rain doesn’t turn up soon, the police will be all over everything.’ Claire glanced at the officer as she came back into the room.
But Maggie’s attention was suddenly focused on the back door. She stood up, kicking out the chair behind her and gripping the table. ‘Is there news?’
‘Is there somewhere private we can talk?’ PC Wyndham said, coming straight in after knocking on the open door. Her face was blank, giving nothing away.
‘Please, use the snug again,’ Claire said, wishing she could take back all the thoughts she’d just had. As Maggie left the room, she noticed Patrick’s expression. How many times had he and her mum greeted various officers and detectives during the weeks and months after Lenni’s disappearance? Too many to count, but each time they’d been buoyed up by the possibility of good news only to have their hopes dashed.
‘Christ, I hope she’s not come to tell her…’ Claire brought her hand to her mouth.
‘They do that job in pairs, love,’ Patrick replied.
Claire forced the thought from her mind and went around the kitchen, gathering all the mugs and glasses that had been used over the morning. She needed to keep busy. She put them into the big Belfast sink, running a bowl of hot soapy water, and set to washing up. She wondered how many hours her mother had stood at the same sink, washing, rinsing and drying countless plates, cutlery, pots and pans. Shona had been a worker all her life and Claire couldn’t think of a time when her mother had ever been idle.
Between them, her parents had saved Trevellin from bankruptcy, their dedication and hard work re-establishing the dairy herd within a couple of years. She recalled how her dad would leave the house before they even got up for school and come back home mid-evening reeking of his beloved cows and the scent of their warm, creamy milk.
‘Claire…’ Her father’s deep voice resonated through the kitchen. She turned, pulling off her rubber gloves in time to see PC Wyndham leaving by the back door. Maggie was standing perfectly still, hands clasped under her chin, looking as if she was the only person left in the entire world.
‘What is it, Maggie? Is there news?’ Claire went up to her, but Maggie just stood, refusing to move, apart from a small tremor that ran the length of her body.
Chapter Forty-Seven
Back When I Remembered
‘Hello,’ I say next time I’m not alone. ‘Am I going home now?’ My throat tightens as if a boiled sweet is stuck in there. That happened once and Mummy made me drink hot water to melt it.
There’s no reply but I’m given some colouring pens and a pad of paper instead. I like drawing. I also like practising my writing, so I write a letter to Mummy. I know she’ll be worried sick about me, while Daddy will be angry, shouting at everyone, shouting at the police if they’ve been called to find me. But mostly he’ll be hating himself for being so careless, for allowing bad things to happen to me. Jason will hide in the barn, chucking his ball against the wall and not wanting to talk to anyone, while Claire will be sad. She was meant to be looking after me.
‘Will you give this to my Mummy?’ I ask. The letter is snatched from my hand and nothing more is said. I wonder if they think I’m dead, if they’ve given up on me.
When I’m alone again, I scream as loud as I can. I keep on screaming all day long until my throat bleeds and my eyes don’t see properly. Jason used to call me a little firecracker, waiting to explode. He was right, I am about to explode, although when he said it, it just made me even madder, got me hot and sweaty and hating everything. When things went wrong, if Claire or Jason annoyed me or if something got broken and I couldn’t fix it, I’d clench my fists and my cheeks would go scarlet. I’d try to hold it in, but sometimes it bled out of me as if I was leaking badness. Mummy would watch me quietly, allowing me to get rid of the rage, then she’d hug me and talk softly to me. Then Daddy would tuck me into bed with one of his stories until the fizzing inside my chest started to go down. They both knew what to do.
Now, alone, I’m standing beside the tiny sink screaming out my unheard anger. I cry and yell, spinning around and around in mini circles like that lion I saw once at the zoo. I jump as high as I can, slamming my feet onto the floor so tingles shoot up my legs. I hurl myself against the wall and drag my nails down the wooden panelling until splinters push up under my nails and crescents of blood appear.
‘Help me!’ I cry a thousand times, pacing the short length of the room until it seems to close in on me, the walls getting closer together with every step. My eyes swell in and out of focus, transforming the dingy space where I now live into the pretty pink of my bedroom, only to vanish again when I scream even louder. My lungs bubble with sadness and despair. Spit froths between my lips.
‘Help, please… help… me.’ It’s just a whisper now. I fall to the floor until it’s over, until the anger has leaked to earth. In my head, Daddy tells me a story. His words calm me and send me to sleep. I do this every day.
Chapter Forty-Eight
Callum was between patients when PCs Wyndham and Holt came into the consulting room that afternoon, followed by a very flustered nurse. He glared at them. ‘This had better be important. I have ward rounds.’ He didn’t bother standing up or shaking hands. A nerve twitched under his left eye.
‘This shouldn’t take long, although you might prefer to speak in private.’ PC Wyndham looked back at the nurse.
‘Thanks, Megan. You can close the door on your way out.’ The nurse did as she was told, looking relieved. ‘What won’t take long?’ Callum pushed back in his chair. ‘I’ve already told you everything I know.’
‘Are you certain about that?’ PC Holt said, sitting in the patients’ chair. PC Wyndham perched on the end of the examination couch, her ankles crossed. ‘It’s slightly unusual, but under the circumstances we made the decision to send a forensics team to both properties earlier today.’
‘And that justifies disturbing a busy surgeon?’
‘I’ll get straight to the point, Mr Rodway. Rain’s fingerprints were found in your bedroom. We’d taken known samples from her phone and other belongings.’
Callum’s mouth went dry. ‘That would make sense. I saw her in there with my wife. They were chatting.’
‘And when was that exactly?’ PC Wyndham removed a small notepad from her inside pocket, poised to write.
‘They arrived early on Saturday morning, so it was… during the afternoon, I think. Yes, it was Saturday afternoon.’
‘What time?’
‘About three?’ Callum felt as though he was asking them, not telling them.
‘Rain’s fingerprints were found on your bed frame. Your side of the bed, incidentally.’
Callum felt his mouth twisting into an odd shape, as if he’d temporarily lost control of it. ‘Again, that makes perfect sense. Claire and Rain were sitting on the bed – my side – while they were chatting.’
‘As you know, the bed base has a deep, polished board running aroun
d it. There were many fingerprints and finger smear marks found all along one side of it, and the angle of them indicates that she may have been trying to push herself off the bed while lying on her front. An odd position for her to be chatting in, don’t you think?’
Callum ignored the look on the officer’s face. He wasn’t fazed. ‘I don’t know. I only passed the bedroom doorway. I wasn’t there the whole time.’ He allowed a moment’s silence. ‘Are we done now? I really need to see my next patient.’
‘Of course,’ PC Holt said, standing. ‘I’m sure your wife will confirm your story.’
* * *
Claire searched for her phone and, remembering she’d left it charging in the hallway, slipped it into her back pocket. Everyone had gone up to the Old Stables, having vacated the farmhouse so the officers could look around, take prints, perhaps get an insight into Rain’s whereabouts from her belongings. Given that was where she had actually been staying, Claire expected them to take a little longer there.
‘How they expect to find anything useful, I don’t know,’ Patrick grumbled. They’d been discussing reasons why the police were focusing on the two properties so early, concluding that if Rain didn’t come back soon, then their investigations would be scaled up and any evidence in the houses might, by that time, have been accidentally destroyed.
After PC Wyndham had left, Maggie had just stood there trembling, looking fragile and unable to talk coherently. In the following few hours, she simply sat where she was told, drank tea when it was made for her, walked up to Claire’s house when the others took her, all with the liaison officer glued to her side. Once or twice, Claire wondered if Maggie was about to tell her something, as though she needed to get something out, but when it didn’t come, she didn’t press her. She didn’t understand why Maggie wasn’t making a greater effort to contact Rain’s father.
The Reunion: An utterly gripping psychological thriller with a jaw-dropping twist Page 20
