The officer nodded. ‘And what time would you say that was?’
‘Four o’clock,’ Claire replied. ‘Four to half past four,’ she added, trying to sound casual. She was a terrible liar but didn’t want to get Callum into trouble, not since he’d seen fit to protect Rain. She hadn’t had a chance to check her jewellery box yet, but she couldn’t imagine Rain stealing from her. Maggie might be rather slack with ground rules, but she’d brought her daughter up not to be a thief, she was sure of that.
‘Where did she go in your bedroom, exactly?’
‘Exactly?’ Claire’s heart raced. Callum hadn’t mentioned this. ‘She… knocked on the bedroom door while I was in there. I called out for her to come in and she sat down. We had a nice chat.’
‘Where did she sit?’
Claire felt her cheeks flush. ‘On the chair by the window.’ Claire nodded, almost believing it herself. ‘I’m not sure how this helps find her though.’ She just wanted it to end.
‘Believe me, Mrs Rodway,’ PC Wyndham said. ‘It’s amazing what we can glean from a few simple questions.’
Claire didn’t like the tone of her voice, and it really wasn’t fair that Callum had told her to lie. Perhaps she should just come clean now and say she was mistaken, tell the truth.
‘Did she go anywhere else in your bedroom?’
‘I don’t think so. Maybe she had a quick browse in my wardrobe, that kind of thing.’ Claire’s cheeks felt on fire now as she tried to cover all bases.
‘So, she sat on a chair by the window and not on the bed?’
‘Yes,’ Claire said immediately. She could hardly contradict what she’d already sounded so sure about. ‘That’s correct.’
‘Did she go into your en-suite bathroom?’
‘No,’ Claire said less convincingly, hoping that was the right thing to say.
‘Thank you, Mrs Rodway. You’ve been most helpful. I’ll also need to speak to Marcus about Saturday night. If you could arrange for him to come down to the station this afternoon, that would be helpful.’ She smiled, snapping her notebook shut.
‘No problem,’ Claire said quietly. She didn’t like that her son was going to be questioned – it triggered feelings of her ordeal at the same age – but if it helped find Rain, then they would comply. She knew Marcus had nothing to hide.
She watched as the officer drove away before going upstairs to her bedroom, taking the stairs two at a time. She tentatively opened the lid to her jewellery box, concerned she’d find things missing. She didn’t have a great many items, but what she did own were of high value, either pieces given to her by Callum on birthdays and anniversaries, or necklaces and bracelets owned by her grandmother. All were priceless in their own right, and irreplaceable should Rain have done the unthinkable.
Claire breathed out a sigh of relief when she saw that everything was still there. Rain had probably just been in their room out of simple curiosity, or perhaps the other bathroom was occupied and she needed the toilet. She didn’t believe it warranted Callum lying to the police and telling her to do the same. Her heart was still thumping from the deception.
She sighed when she saw the underpants and socks strewn on the floor beside Callum’s side of the bed. She bent down to pick them up to put in the wash, but something caught her eye. With the bunched-up socks and pants in one hand, she reached under the bed with the other. She pulled out a bangle. A cheap, gaudy thing that certainly didn’t belong to her. She turned it round and round, staring at it, not recognising it.
Still unnerved by PC Wyndham’s visit, Claire went back downstairs to the kitchen, dumping the dirty laundry in the utility room on the way. Then she went to see how Maggie was, but before she could even ask, Maggie was suddenly on her feet, her mouth wide open as she stared at the bangle Claire had forgotten she was holding.
‘Where did you get that?’ She reached out, snatching it from her.
‘It was upstairs in my bedroom. Why?’
Her face was pale and her eyes sore and red-rimmed. ‘Are you certain?’
‘Of course. I literally just picked it up from under the bed. Maggie, what’s wrong? You look like you’ve seen a—’
She slumped down in the chair again, clutching her hands against her heart, the bangle encased in her fists. ‘It belongs to Rain.’
Chapter Fifty-Two
Marcus jiggled his leg under the table.
‘We need to know everything that happened on Saturday night, Marcus, from the moment you left your grandparents’ house,’ the woman cop said, after introducing herself. He reckoned she was quite fit for someone her age but forced himself not to think about that. He didn’t want his cheeks burning beetroot red.
‘No problem,’ he replied. ‘It was, like, we ate dinner at Nan’s place and then Dad drove us to Newquay. There was a house party. It was something to do.’ He shrugged.
‘Whose idea was it to go to Newquay?’
‘Mine, I guess. I’d mentioned it to Rain before she arrived.’
‘You’d spoken to Rain before her visit?’ the male officer said. Marcus couldn’t remember his name, thought it might be Hunt or something.
‘Yeah, on Messenger.’ Marcus watched as he wrote it down. ‘When Mum told me about this reunion thing and mentioned that her friend had a teenage daughter, I looked her up. She was easy to find. We chatted a couple of times.’
‘How did she feel about the trip to Cornwall?’ PC Wyndham asked.
‘She was a bit hacked off about it. It’s the summer holidays and she didn’t want to spend time with her mum and a load of oldies. She told me she goes to a really posh boarding school and she’s, like, got really rich friends that do some pretty cool stuff.’
‘Such as?’
Marcus thought for a moment. All she’d done since she’d arrived was moan about not wanting to be at Trevellin. He’d been so busy noticing how far removed her life seemed from his, how hot she was, that he’d actually glossed over the fact she was a bit of a shallow bitch. And now he felt bad for thinking that when she could be dead. Marcus picked at his fingers.
‘She told me how she gets invited to stay at her friends’ parents’ villas in Marbella or the south of France. She went to Africa during the last summer holidays. She goes skiing with her friends every January, goes to New York just before Christmas, and goes to loads of parties at massive country houses. She has lots of friends with Chelsea apartments too, and crashes there after they’ve been clubbing,’ Marcus said, almost proudly, as if by knowing Rain some of her glamorous life had rubbed off on him. ‘Skimming stones on the beach at Trevellin’s hardly a match.’ He tried to ignore the pang of jealousy.
‘I see,’ the officer replied, making a few notes. ‘So, when you got to Newquay, what time was it and who was there? We’ll need the address.’
Marcus swallowed. He would have to be careful. ‘Dad dropped us off at the party, but…’ He reddened. ‘But no one really wanted to go so we walked into town to go to Spanx instead. That’s me, Rain, Alex and Gary. They’re my mates and Spanx is a club.’ Marcus reckoned they wouldn’t know that. ‘When we got in there, it was pretty dead. It was still early, about ten thirty, but the drinks were half price until midnight and entry was free.’
‘So you didn’t actually go to the party?’
Marcus shook his head, staring at the floor.
‘Did Rain have any alcohol?’ PC Wyndham asked.
‘Yeah. She, like, got tanked really fast.’
‘Did you all stick together or did you split up?’
Marcus thought carefully about this question. He’d been going over the evening’s events and what to say while his mother drove him to the police station. She’d been going on about Nick having to go back to London or something, but he hadn’t been listening.
‘Rain went straight onto the dance floor, getting close to anyone who even looked at her. But I kept my eye on her,’ he added quickly. ‘Besides, she’d got the forty-quid taxi money on her and I’d be the one to get i
t in the neck if she spent it on booze. She was knocking it back fast.’
‘Did she dance with any one person in particular? Did you see her swap numbers or details with anyone?’ the woman cop asked.
‘Don’t think so. But she was being a bit, you know… coming on to anyone who looked at her.’ Marcus shrugged, thinking she was no worse than most of the girls he knew. ‘But she was just having fun. Me and my mates, we like going to clubs but we’re not big on the dancing.’ Marcus let out a nervous laugh.
‘So you three boys were just watching while Rain was partying?’
‘Yep. A bit later, Rain came back over and we got more drinks. I said that she’d had enough, but she told me to fu— Well… she didn’t listen. She was on double vodkas.’
‘We’re trying to establish where Rain might have gone after the club closed, Marcus. Even though her mother says it’s quite normal for her to stay out all night with her friends, we think that because she’s away from home and not with her usual group, it is a little unusual.’ The officer was being really nice, Marcus reckoned, and he understood that they wanted to find Rain as quickly as possible, but he couldn’t possibly tell them everything.
He carried on. ‘At one point, Rain said she felt sick. I wasn’t really surprised. It was about 2 a.m., I suppose. I told Gary and Alex that I was taking her outside for some fresh air. I thought that would sober her up and I didn’t want her spewing all over the dance floor. We go to Spanx a lot.’
‘And was she sick?’
‘No,’ Marcus said. ‘She felt better once we got outside. I took her down this little lane at the back of the club that led down towards the beach. We stood by the railings, listening to the waves.’
Marcus picked at the skin on his thumb. He’d put his arm around Rain’s shoulders as they’d walked – staggered, in Rain’s case – towards the sea. The air was thrumming with club music and he smelt the greasy tang of kebabs on the salty sea breeze. A bit further on, he’d turned his face towards hers, drawing her in closer, but immediately felt stupid because she pulled away, teetering off down the sloping lane. He remembered how she’d dropped sideways on one ankle in those ridiculously high heels. She hadn’t even noticed his feeble advance.
‘I told Rain that it was a good time to get a cab home, that we’d all go back together. I didn’t want to leave her alone.’
‘Very commendable, Marcus. What did she say?’
Bloody hell, the cop was acting like his mum. He smiled weakly, not showing what was really going on inside his head. ‘She was, like, waving her arms about and said that she wanted to keep on partying. She was really slurring.’ Marcus remembered following Rain down to the railings, feeling the sea breeze on his face. He’d also felt a bit woozy from the drink, but the night air had given him a bit of a wake-up. Though perhaps not enough.
‘Nice arse,’ he’d said, drawing up beside her, cringing the second he heard his words. He couldn’t take his eyes off it, her dress barely covering it. Shit, shit, shit… What was even worse was that he actually remembered touching it – maybe even giving it a little smack? Oh God, yes, then he made the wisecrack about being in a club called Spanx and the effect it must have had on him.
‘Why don’t you come closer?’ he’d said, easing his hands around her waist. She felt trim and firm as he pulled her back against him, her bum pressing against him.
‘Fucking hell, Marcus,’ she said. ‘I’m, like, about to puke, you moron.’ Something like that. But then she’d giggled and pressed back against him. He felt just how short and tight her dress was as he dropped his hands down around her hips. She wasn’t trying to get away. In fact, she reached around and gripped his hips, pumping to the beats vibrating out of the club. It could just have been dancing, Marcus supposed now.
‘But you like it, don’t you?’ he’d said, thankful he’d had the good sense to at least ask.
Marcus cleared his throat, looking up from the floor and meeting the cop’s eyes. ‘Rain said she wasn’t ready to go home.’ He pushed his hands through his hair. Just remembering it was making him sweat. A battle was taking place between what was going on in his mind – Rain in that dress, her hands pulling him close – and what was coming out of his mouth. He reckoned he was doing OK.
‘Mmm, I do like it,’ she’d replied, grinding against him. He could hear the waves spilling up the shore in the inky darkness beyond the railings, could just make out the luminous white of the breakers as the high tide lapped at the sand. ‘I really like it.’
At this, Marcus slid his hands down her bare legs, allowing one hand to creep back up under her dress. She twisted her head around, so their mouths were close. He didn’t want to miss the chance again, so he plunged his lips onto hers, trying to make her mouth open. He couldn’t swear she kissed him back, but that was probably because she was so out of it. Her skin was so smooth and… oh, God help him… he thought he was going to die on the spot. He pushed against her, trapping her against the railings. No one was around, no one would see. There were no street lights.
He’d fumbled with the belt of his jeans, one hand still under Rain’s dress, but he couldn’t undo the buckle properly. He heard his own raspy breath – in and out, in and out – all mixed up with the waves crashing on the beach, which, in turn, got mixed up with the pulsing music, the feeling inside his jeans. He’d been crazy excited.
‘Get off me now, you fucking freak,’ Rain had yelled, as though she was suddenly stone-cold sober. He felt her hands shove hard against him. ‘When I want a little boy dribbling all over me, I’ll ask.’ She tossed back her hair and wriggled her dress back down over her thighs, glaring at him. She might as well have poked him in the eyes with a screwdriver. It was the worst, the most humiliating moment of his entire life. Marcus had never done it with a girl before. All his mates had. He’d thought she’d wanted it. What a bitch. What a fucking bitch.
He watched her stride off, managing her heels perfectly now as she disappeared out of sight.
Marcus cleared his throat. The cops were waiting for him to continue. ‘So, she was, like, telling me that she wanted to go to another club, get some more drinks. When I said we should go home, that’s when she got stroppy. Next thing I knew, she’d stomped off on her own.’ He wanted to screw up his eyes, block out all those images of him grabbing her wrist, yanking her round, the rest of it… but he couldn’t. It was all etched on his mind, yet he had to remain blank-faced in front of the cops. ‘I tried to stop her, of course. I followed her up to the road to make sure she was safe, but I lost sight of her. I figured she’d be OK. She’s eighteen, after all. It was us lot who were stranded because she had our taxi money.’
‘That was the last you saw of her that night, Marcus, outside Spanx?’
‘Yup,’ he said, feeling nauseous. ‘I went back inside and hung out with Alex and Gary for a bit in case she came back. Then I got money out from the cash machine and we got a cab home.’ Marcus punctuated the end of his story with a nod of his head. He bloody well didn’t want to have to think of Rain sodding Carr ever again.
‘OK, thank you, Marcus,’ PC Wyndham said in a gentle voice that made him want to cry. ‘We’re trying to track Rain’s movements on CCTV. I’m sure what we find will corroborate your story.’
Shit, Marcus thought. He didn’t reckon there’d have been any cameras down that alley. They only had them on the main streets, didn’t they?
‘The other thing you should know, Marcus,’ the officer said, ‘is that Rain is only fifteen.’
Chapter Fifty-Three
A sombre mood hung heavy in the farmhouse after another night with no news. It was just Shona and Claire sitting in the kitchen, waiting for developments, waiting for something to happen. Maggie had been taken down to the police station to view CCTV footage following an earlier appeal on local TV news. A woman had called the police to say she’d seen a girl matching Rain’s description.
Claire had offered to accompany her, but she’d wanted to go alone. If she was ho
nest, she was relieved – partly because taking Marcus there yesterday had hammered home the gruesome reality of the situation, plus she still couldn’t shake off what Callum had said. It was his day off and he’d taken Amy to the cinema after Claire suggested it would do their daughter good to get out of the house, away from the police visits, the whispered discussions, the anxious mood. Jason was out searching again and Nick still hadn’t come back from London – some problem with the restaurant, he’d briefly told her yesterday, and she hadn’t questioned him. His tone had signalled she shouldn’t ask.
The most disastrous reunion in history, she thought, resting her chin in her hands.
‘Lots of villagers have joined in the search party that Jason organised,’ Shona said. ‘He’s given out all the flyers Greta made.’
‘Everyone’s being amazing,’ Claire replied. Jason had certainly launched himself into the search to find Rain. His apathy when Lenni went missing had been so noticeable that Claire found herself making excuses for him. ‘I think it’s guilt,’ she’d told Maggie as they’d waited for news of Lenni years ago. ‘It’s like he’s pretending nothing’s wrong, as if Lenni will come back from the shop at any moment.’
While the rest of them were slaves to the investigation, their lives consumed by what had happened, Jason carried on as normal. When anyone mentioned Lenni, he changed the subject.
Claire watched her mother put the kettle on for what seemed like the thousandth time in the last three days. She admired her stoicism, her poise, her determination. ‘It’s almost as if Jason’s trying to make up for…’ She stopped. There was no point upsetting her. But there was something else troubling her. ‘Mum, there was a…’ Again, she couldn’t finish.
Shona glanced at her before sloshing a dash of boiling water into the pot to warm it. The tea-making was an avoidance ritual, Claire knew, as her mother set out a tray with two cups and saucers, teaspoons, biscuits, a bowl of sugar – even though neither of them took it – and poured milk into a small china jug. She spooned leaves into the pot, filled it up from the kettle and slipped on a knitted cosy. Claire felt like smashing the whole lot onto the floor.
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