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

by Samantha Hayes

  ‘Yes, sure,’ Marcus said, yawning. When they’d gone, Claire peered out of the kitchen window. Nick was running up the drive from the farmhouse. She hadn’t told him details, but by the tone of her voice he knew it was urgent. She opened the back door and, before he was even inside, she’d broken down in tears. Nick took her in his arms, her face pressed against shoulder. He guided her through into the kitchen.

  ‘They’ve arrested Callum,’ she said. ‘Oh God, it was awful.’ Then she remembered the business card. ‘He wants me to call his solicitor.’

  ‘Arrested him? Christ…’ He ruffled his hair. ‘You’re in no fit state to be making phone calls right now,’ Nick said, sitting her down. ‘It can wait a few minutes. I doubt they’ll even have him booked in at the station yet.’

  Claire nodded, pulling her sleeves down low over her fists. ‘I just don’t understand…’ The arresting officer’s words rang through her head. ‘They said they were arresting him on suspicion of…’ She couldn’t say it. It was too awful, too unreal and so very, very wrong. She hung her head.

  ‘It’s important, Claire. The solicitor will need to know.’

  ‘They arrested him on suspicion of having sexual activity with a child.’ There, the words were out. Said and done.

  Nick blew out a long sigh. ‘Fucking hell…’ He walked to the window, leaning against the sink and staring out at the line of pink on the horizon. ‘Surely, there’s no way that’s true, is there?’ he said, turning to face her.

  ‘No, no of course not! He’s a good man, a good father. He’s a surgeon.’

  Nick rubbed the stubble on his jaw. ‘Do you think they were implying it was… well, to do with Rain?’

  Claire shook her head. ‘I have no other details. I just don’t know what to do, Nick.’ Claire hugged her arms around her shoulders, dragging them down her body. She just wanted to escape herself. ‘They don’t know Callum at all. He’s not like that.’

  Nick took the business card from between her shaking fingers. ‘Let’s hope…’ He read the name on the card. ‘…that John Blake doesn’t mind being woken up at this hour of the morning, then.’

  ‘He’s one of Cal’s golfing friends. John and his wife have been here for dinner a few times.’ Claire pulled a tissue from the box, blowing her nose as Nick read out the solicitor’s number. She was about to hang up when the call was answered by a groggy-sounding man and, five minutes later, she’d told him everything. He promised to get down to the station right away.

  ‘You’re both up early.’ The lightness of the voice took them by surprise. ‘Has there been news?’ Greta padded through the kitchen in her robe and slippers. ‘The babies were kicking so I thought I’d get up and make tea…’ She halted, eyeing them both. ‘Oh God, what’s happened?’

  ‘Didn’t you hear the commotion earlier?’ Claire said.

  ‘No. If the babies are still, I sleep like a baby myself. What’s been going on?’ She pulled out a chair and sat at the table with them.

  ‘Callum’s been taken to the police station,’ Nick said, trying to make the news not quite so shocking.

  ‘Oh my goodness. Why?’ Greta’s eyes were wide.

  ‘They arrested him,’ Claire said, hoping the more she said it, the less awful it would seem. ‘It’s ridiculous. He hasn’t done anything wrong.’ She forced a laugh, trying to make light of it. ‘He’ll probably be home in time for breakfast.’

  ‘Can I ask why?’ Greta asked cautiously.

  Nick cut in to save Claire from having to say it. ‘It was unfounded rubbish. Something to do with underage sex.’

  Greta was silent for a moment, her eyebrows pulling together. ‘I see. So surely there’s been a mistake?’

  ‘I know,’ Claire said, shrugging. ‘Of course there has.’

  Claire wrapped her hands around the mug of warm, sweet tea Nick had made for her, but all she could think about were Rain’s fingerprints in their bedroom, her bangle under their bed, Callum’s unusual accusation about Maggie’s behaviour, and him asking her to lie to the police. None of it made sense. And none of it had a place in her life.

  Chapter Sixty-One

  When Jason came downstairs, showered and dressed in shorts and a T-shirt, he found Greta sitting awkwardly on the kitchen floor, her bump positioned between her legs, and surrounded by Barbie dolls.

  ‘Make her wear this outfit now,’ Amy said, holding out a naked doll and a fistful of tiny clothes.

  ‘Ooh, she’ll look beautiful in that, Amy. Nice choice.’ Greta attempted to squeeze the doll into an impossibly tight dress.

  ‘Getting in some practice?’ He placed his hands on his wife’s shoulders, giving them a quick squeeze. Small talk was hard, but keeping things normal in front of Amy was important.

  ‘Jason,’ Greta said, looking up at him. He knew her well enough to sense that something was wrong. ‘Can you help me up?’

  Jason eased her to her feet. ‘Are you OK?’

  ‘I’ll be back in a minute, Amy love.’ Greta made a face at Jason, beckoning him out into the hallway. ‘It’s Callum,’ she whispered, pushing the door closed. ‘He’s been arrested.’

  Jason’s eyes flared wide. ‘What? Why didn’t someone come and wake me?’

  ‘There was no point, there was nothing you could have done. Claire and Nick have gone down to the police station while I look after Amy.’ Then she explained why.

  ‘What about Mum? Is she frantic?’

  ‘No one’s told her yet. Cal has a solicitor representing him, a good one apparently. Let’s hope it’s some kind of mistake.’

  For a moment, Jason was silent, frozen in thought, but then he shoved his feet into a pair of flip-flops discarded by the back door. ‘I need to go up to Mum and Dad’s,’ he said in a way that belied his anxiety about facing his father.

  ‘Jase, do you think that’s wise right now?’

  ‘You don’t understand,’ he said. ‘I need to.’

  Greta opened her mouth to speak but closed it again. She watched as he strode out of the Old Stables and up towards the farmhouse. Amy grumbled from the other room, complaining that her doll’s dress wouldn’t go on, so she went back to help. As she lowered herself into a chair, she froze midway, grabbing her stomach.

  Oh God, please not now, she thought to herself.

  * * *

  Maggie had finally received a phone call back from Rain’s father after he’d heard her increasingly frantic messages. He’d been away for a few days. ‘The silly girl has probably run off with some boy. You know what she’s like. She’ll be back when he gets sick of her or she runs out of money.’

  ‘She’s fifteen, Peter. That’s a terrible thing to say,’ Maggie replied. ‘Anyway, she didn’t take any money to have it run out.’

  ‘I see where this is going,’ Peter said drily. ‘How much do you need?’

  ‘For God’s sake, I don’t want anything from you,’ Maggie said. ‘Our daughter is missing.’ She’d broken down then, realising how little he cared. ‘What if someone found out about us and she’s been kidnapped? Have you had any demands?’

  ‘No. But you sound as though you’re almost expecting that. Or about to make one.’

  There was a moment’s silence. ‘I’d hoped that maybe she’d come to you, that’s all.’

  ‘Well, she hasn’t,’ Peter said curtly. ‘Be sure to let me know when she turns up.’

  Maggie hung up, mildly heartened that he’d asked to know when she was safe. She needed him to care about her just a little bit. ‘She’s not with her father,’ she said to Shona, who was nearby. ‘I should have realised that. If Rain had gone to him, then he’d have phoned me immediately to come and get her. He would never jeopardise his career or his family.’

  Maggie had slept fitfully the night before, waking to the sound of someone leaving the house at dawn. She’d glanced at her watch – it was 5.11 a.m. – and gone to the bedroom window. Nick was half walking, half running up the drive towards the Old Stables. Was he going to see Clair
e? Her brain was too sleepy to think through the implications, though she’d found out why a couple of hours later.

  ‘Jason?’ Maggie said, as he came into the farmhouse kitchen looking flustered and wide-eyed. He was the last person she expected to see.

  ‘Darling,’ Shona said to her son. The look on his face drew both women close. ‘What’s wrong?’

  ‘Is there news?’ Maggie braced herself.

  ‘There’s no easy way to say this,’ he said. ‘Callum was arrested early this morning. He’s been taken to the police station.’ He explained what had happened, trying to gloss over the details for Maggie’s sake. Shona sat down and Maggie stood silent, stunned, as they listened.

  ‘That’s just not possible,’ Shona said. ‘Callum would never do anything like that. Patrick and I must go down to the station and vouch—’

  ‘But what if he did?’ Maggie said quietly, covering her mouth. ‘What if he did something to Rain and she ran away or worse, what if he…’

  ‘What if who did what?’

  Jason froze. Patrick was standing in the doorway. Whatever the state of his mind, he still commanded a great presence. ‘Tell me what’s going on.’ He eased himself into the fireside chair as if it were the only place he belonged.

  ‘It’s Callum, darling,’ Shona said, filling him in, having to remind him that Rain was still missing.

  ‘Let the lawyer do his job,’ Patrick said, staring at Jason. ‘John knows what he’s doing.’ Then he went quiet for a moment, his stare still fixed on his son. ‘Will you give Jason and me a moment, please?’

  Shona looked at Maggie, nodding, and beckoned her out before the day’s search began once again.

  * * *

  Jason held his father’s stare as he went to the armchair on the other side of the fireplace. He sat down. ‘Dad,’ he said without emotion. It was where Patrick had taught him to play chess. The fire would be roaring, and Jason’s left ear and cheek would turn scarlet from the heat and frustration. He’d never won a single game against his father.

  ‘Son,’ came the reply.

  ‘How have you been?’ Jason asked, knowing he had to start somewhere.

  ‘Apparently, I’m losing my mind.’

  Jason gave a tiny smile. ‘If it’s any consolation, I forgot our wedding anniversary last year.’

  ‘Not me,’ Patrick replied proudly. ‘I got your mother…’ He trailed off. ‘A necklace, I think. Yes, it was a necklace.’

  Jason nodded, knowing his father would never admit to the full extent of his illness. He was a proud man.

  ‘So where have you been all this time?’ Patrick said, as if he’d all but forgotten the long-standing etiquette of their animosity.

  Jason gave a small laugh. ‘Living in London, building a life for myself. Trying to get over stuff.’ He just wanted to get it all out, to spill out all his feelings, to seek answers and settle scores. But he knew things didn’t work like that with Patrick.

  His father’s eyes narrowed as if he was sifting through memories, trying to pick out the correct feelings to accompany them. ‘You never understood. Still don’t, do you?’

  ‘No, you’re right – I don’t understand, Dad.’ Jason’s heart clenched as he considered getting up and leaving. But something made him stay. ‘I was penniless, an addict, and I was depressed and suicidal. I couldn’t get work, acting or otherwise. I suffered the same as everyone because of what happened to Lenni. My grief may have surfaced years later, but it doesn’t make it any less real.’

  ‘And you don’t think I’ve suffered over the years because of her? All the guilt, the worry that I should be doing more for her, the effort and thought it still takes up on a daily basis? What kind of father lets something like that happen to his daughter?’

  ‘No, Dad, none of us were suffering because of her. In the end, our suffering came from not having anyone to blame, from not knowing what happened.’

  Patrick said nothing, but his eyes misted with tears. Jason felt helpless, angry and as if the wall between them would never be broken down. His father did remember why Jason returned to London that day, he could see it in his eyes.

  ‘I needed caring for as much as you cared for Lenni, Dad. That was all.’ Realising there was nothing else to say, Jason rose from the saggy old chair and turned to leave.

  ‘Son,’ Patrick said, as his hand was on the door. ‘I still do care for her,’ he said in a weak and shaky voice. ‘Like I care for all of you.’

  Jason gave a small nod and left. Some things were never meant to change, he thought, walking slowly back to his wife.

  Chapter Sixty-Two

  After identifying the clothing as belonging to her daughter, Maggie agreed to do a television appeal. A tearful message from a distraught mother would, the police assured her, create more awareness. And following the phone call with Peter yesterday, she was seriously considering naming him on air as Rain’s father. The daughter of a well-known and respected politician would certainly get the camera bulbs flashing, the tabloids picking up the story, and get Rain a national profile. It might be the only way to find her. And to get Peter to take her seriously. A car came to take her to the news conference room in a hotel in town. As she sat in the back, staring at the countryside flashing by, going over and over Callum’s arrest in her mind, she didn’t think that she had anything left to lose.

  * * *

  ‘I need you to clarify again, Mr Rodway, why Rain Carr was in your bedroom.’ PC Wyndham was perched on the edge of a table along with a detective constable. Callum was seated at another table a few feet away, waiting for his lawyer to arrive. Couldn’t Claire bloody well get anything organised?

  ‘Did you have sexual intercourse with Rain Carr, Mr Rodway, with or without her consent?’ the detective asked.

  Jesus fucking Christ, he thought, sitting stock still. ‘No comment until my lawyer arrives.’ He knew they would try to wear him down, break his resolve while he was alone. Whatever happened, he wouldn’t admit to anything.

  ‘Have you ever had sex with a child before, Mr Rodway?’ he said.

  ‘No comment.’

  She’d clearly come into his room on purpose that night, drunk and giggling, pretending she thought it was Marcus’s room, asking if he was back home yet. Then, when she’d seen he was in bed, she’d started teasing him again, just like she’d done in the cellar – her all over him, him annoyed at having been woken up. Anyway, he’d had far too much to drink and couldn’t possibly be held responsible for his actions. Surely that amounted to her actually taking advantage of him, not the other way around? Besides, what did she expect, dressed in that ridiculously short dress and all that make-up? If only Claire had been in bed, none of this would have happened. It was absolutely all her fault. And where was his bloody lawyer?

  * * *

  Jason went back to the Old Stables feeling as if a scab had been picked off his life. How could his father be so heartless? How could his dead sister command more attention than his own living son, even after all this time? He’d had to get out, get away, before he said something he regretted. One thing was for certain, he would never treat either of his children that way. He would always be there for them, whatever happened.

  When he went into the kitchen, Greta was on all fours, panting, sweating, begging for Amy to fetch the telephone.

  ‘Oh God, love. I’m here. What’s happening? Are you OK? Tell me what to do.’ He crouched down beside her. ‘Let’s get you into the chair.’

  ‘Noo, I can’t fucking move!’ she screamed. Amy dropped the phone and covered her ears as Greta roared and growled, rocking back and forth. Her belly hung heavy beneath her. ‘The babies… they’re coming,’ she wailed, panting and gasping for air. ‘Call… call an ambulance.’

  With his hands shaking, Jason dialled 999.

  * * *

  Nick and Claire weren’t allowed to see Callum. Claire pleaded with the officer at the front desk, but there was no way she was letting them through. ‘But he hasn’t done
anything wrong,’ she said. She felt Nick’s hand settle on her arm, trying to calm her. ‘They can’t just take him away for no reason.’ He gently levered her away from the glass screen before the sergeant got annoyed, but she refused to move. ‘Can I phone him, then?’

  ‘No, sorry,’ the officer stated. ‘His phone has been taken into safekeeping.’

  ‘Surely he has rights?’

  ‘He most certainly does, and they will be adhered to strictly. If you like, you can write a quick note to him. I’ll see he gets it.’

  ‘Oh, yes. Yes, OK,’ Claire said, rummaging in her bag for a pen. But the policewoman had already slid a pad and pencil under the screen. She didn’t know what to put so just wrote: I know you haven’t done anything wrong. I love you. Claire xx. She knew they’d read it, hoped they’d recognise her sincerity and let him go. Deep down though, she knew things didn’t work like that.

  Together they paced the waiting area until John Blake, a stocky man in his early fifties, arrived at the station carrying a battered briefcase. He strode straight up to Claire, taking her upper arms in his beefy hands, giving them a squeeze as he kissed each of her cheeks.

  ‘Thanks for coming, John,’ she whispered, knowing that if anyone could help Callum, it was him.

  ‘You must be out of your mind with worry, Claire. Why don’t you go back home? I’ll call you when there’s news. Let me handle things now.’ John was always matter-of-fact and self-assured.

  Claire nodded, feeling slightly better now he was there. And he was right. There was nothing she could do, and she should be with Amy. Her poor daughter had had enough upset for one week. Nick drove them both back to the Old Stables, taking the sharp corners of the tight narrow lanes slowly. Then, when he pulled down the drive, they both stared silently at the ambulance parked outside the house.