Schoolgirl Missing

by Sue Fortin

  As he climbed up through the loft hatch and switched on the light, he was sure that Neve didn’t just have a metaphorical box where she kept things locked away. Crouching slightly to avoid hitting his head on the slope of the roof, Kit made his way over to the far corner, where several cardboard boxes and two suitcases were stacked. Neve’s belongings.

  The musty stale air filled his nostrils as he opened the first case, containing nothing more than a clothing tag and a packet of tissues. He checked the inside pocket before moving it to one side to inspect the smaller of the two cases. This one felt heavier as Kit laid it on its side and opened it. Several items of clothing were folded in the case and Kit held up a blue T-shirt with the face of John Lennon on it and a quote about making love not war. Maybe it was one of Neve’s from when she was a teenager, it looked quite small and he didn’t ever remember Neve raving about the deceased singer, although he shouldn’t be surprised, there was a lot about his wife he didn’t know.

  There was a pair of denim shorts next, two more T-shirts, one with the yellow smiley face symbolic of the late 80s/early 90s acid house days, and another with a cartoon picture of the beach and surf boards.

  At the bottom of the case was a Peter Rabbit soft toy and a ragdoll with red hair made of wool, buttons for eyes and an embroidered nose and mouth, wearing a floral dress. Most definitely homemade. A present from an aunty or a grandmother, Kit could only guess. And finally, a white babygro, a handknitted blanket and bonnet. He knew about Neve’s miscarriage, so perhaps these had been for the baby, although he didn’t think it was usual to buy things until much later in a pregnancy. Maybe they were Neve’s from when she was a baby herself? It was a strange collection of things to keep, but they obviously meant something to his wife.

  He replaced the items and zipped the case back up. He turned his attention to the cardboard box, which scored a trail through the dusty boarding as he pulled it out into the light. He paused for a moment as a stab of guilt struck him. He was going through Neve’s private belongings, things she hadn’t felt the desire to share with him, rather like her not wanting to share her artwork with him. A voice at the back of his mind was whispering to his conscience that this wasn’t right, that it was somehow seedy.

  He thought of Neve and then of Jake. The time she spent in his company. How she could take her art tutor into her confidence, entrust him with her secrets, trust him to heal her, but she could do none of that with her husband.

  Anger shuffled places with rejection and any feelings of guilt were tossed into the ether. He pulled out his credit card from his wallet and used the edge to slice through the brittle yellowing tape.

  If he thought he was going to find the answer to his probing, he was disappointed. The box contained nothing more than a selection of old books. Children’s books mostly. Kit was no expert on this sort of thing but the ones he could see all appeared to be by Enid Blyton, Lucy M. Boston and Louisa May Alcott. Old dog-eared paperback copies which looked to have been well-read and well-loved.

  He flipped the lid shut and pushed the box back, frustrated at the lack of answers.

  For a moment he stayed kneeling on the floor, looking at Neve’s possessions. She had come to him with nothing more than these two cases and a box of books. He had queried it at the time and she had made some flippant remark about a life-laundry when she had separated from her husband and her not being a believer in material things.

  Kit opened the suitcase with the clothes in again. Surely he was missing something. Why would Neve keep a few old clothes and a rag doll? The inside zip compartment of the case caught his attention. He hadn’t looked in there before. Kit opened the zip and felt inside.

  Bingo!

  He retrieved a brown envelope. Several photographs fell on top of the clothes as he shook the contents out. They didn’t appear to be in any order and looked to span a number of years. Kit instantly recognised Neve as a young child of around ten years old. She was pictured on a wide sandy beach, standing in the waves, the water lapping her ankles, with such a wide grin, Kit didn’t think he had ever seen his wife smile with such a lack of self-awareness.

  The next photo was of three teenagers grinning at the camera as they stood with their arms draped over each other, a bottle of beer in their hands, taken early evening judging by the fading light. They all looked at ease and were obviously enjoying some sort of beach party, with a small campfire burning in the foreground. He flipped the photograph over and recognised Neve’s handwriting – Megan, Scott, Me! Megan’s 20th.

  Kit pondered the names. He’d never heard Neve talk about a Megan, but he bloody well knew Neve’s first husband was called Scott.

  He looked through the rest of the photographs. There were a couple more of Neve with the same girl, maybe one or two years apart but definitely in their late teens, possibly early twenties.

  Then he came to a photograph of a bride and groom. The bride was definitely Neve, so the groom must be Scott. He flicked back to the beach photo – yep, it was the same guy. Scott Tansley. He’d never seen a picture of Neve’s first husband, not that he had really had any particular desire to, but it had always intrigued him as to what he had looked like. Well, now he knew. A tall, slim guy, dark hair, who begrudgingly, Kit admitted was quite good-looking. Kit noted the little shot of jealousy that pinged through him and then chided himself for worrying about a guy his wife had walked out on. Irrevocable differences, Neve had said, although she’d always been vague on the detail. But what was new about that?

  There was another wedding photograph, this time of Neve with the same girl again and a group photo of the bride and groom with their respective families either side, together with the best man and bridesmaid. Kit studied the faces on Neve’s side. She took after her mother, Kit decided – blonde, slight build with delicate features.

  The next picture was of a newborn baby, wrapped in a white shawl with a handknitted bonnet. There was no way of telling if it was a boy or a girl. Maybe a nephew or niece? He had a feeling Neve had once mentioned her brother had a daughter. There was another photograph of a girl about three years old, Kit guessed. Probably the baby when she was a bit older.

  The last photograph again was of the beach party. The whole group were laughing and in mid-collapse, looking down at the sand where another person had thrown themselves into the picture, no doubt at the last minute in an effort to beat the timer on the camera. Pre-selfie-stick and mobile phone days. He turned the photograph over and saw the same names listed as before, but this time with the added name of Ash.

  Kit looked closely at the lad face-planting at the group’s feet. He was wearing a baseball cap, a T-shirt and swim shorts. His tattooed arm was outstretched, covering his face as he fell.

  Kit mulled over the contents of the suitcase, in particular the photographs. He had never considered Neve to be sentimental, she’d always been more of a pragmatic person, who he believed didn’t like to dwell on the past, hence her lack of personal possessions. Clearly, these all held some significance to her life.

  Kit climbed down from the loft and went downstairs. Neve obviously wasn’t coming back any time soon and he really did need to get to work. He’d have to make it up to Neve later. He slipped the envelope with the photographs into his briefcase before heading out to the car. He wasn’t quite sure why he’d kept them, but an idea was forming and determination setting in. He was going to find out about Neve’s past whether she liked it or not.

  Chapter 10

  By the time Neve reached home she had three missed calls on her phone, one text message and one voicemail. All from Jake. None from Kit. She thought her husband might at least phone to say he was sorry, but Kit clearly didn’t think he had done anything wrong.

  She had felt so angry earlier and she hadn’t wanted to go home. She needed time to clear her head and calm down. So, she had driven with no particular destination in mind, eventually finding herself in the nearby town of Arundel. She had parked up and spent the next hour walking her temp
er out by tramping around the lake.

  Sitting in her living room now with a cup of coffee, Neve listened to the voicemail. She could hear the desperation in Jake’s voice.

  ‘Neve, I know you’re really angry with me, and rightly so, but believe me when I say how sorry I am. I should have realised what Kit was doing but he caught me off-guard. Jesus, Neve … phone me … please … let me explain properly. I’m worried about you. Or at least text me. Just so I know you’re OK.’

  Safeguarding herself from Kit’s curiosity, or rather suspicion, she cleared the voicemail and the text messages. She then scrolled through her contacts until she came to Jake and rang his number. He answered immediately.

  ‘Neve. Are you OK?’

  ‘I’m fine.’ That was a lie for a start. She was far from fine. ‘I’m at home so there’s nothing for you to worry about now. You can stop texting and calling.’ She sounded sharper than she had planned.

  ‘I’m so sorry,’ said Jake. ‘Kit called in. It caught me off-guard. I was so busy trying to pretend everything was all right but at the same time, being careful what I said. You know what Kit’s like.’

  ‘What did he say to you?’

  ‘Nothing really. Just that he hadn’t seen me for a while, that he had been meaning to call in and say how well you had been responding to the art therapy classes. He was interested in what the therapy involved.’

  ‘And you told him what?’

  ‘I just thanked him. Said I was glad the classes were helping you. I’m telling you, Neve, I was very careful what I said to him.’

  ‘How did he get hold of the paintings?’ Neve’s stomach rolled at the thought. Kit had seen her pictures and that bothered her the most. It wasn’t that he had gone to the studio and it wasn’t that Jake had fucked up. No, it went deeper than that. Kit had seen her soul. He had seen her past. Kit was clever. He could work it out. He would just need a few pieces of information and he’d be able to join the dots up and what an awful picture those dots would make.

  ‘Kit just sort of let himself into the small studio. He was asking questions about the place and the people who came to the classes, like he was interested. I got a bit carried away. I think I let it go to my head. I was too busy showing off, I didn’t see him over at the rack and the next thing, he’d pulled out one of your pictures.’

  ‘I didn’t want him to see the paintings,’ said Neve softly, feeling the fight seep away. She’d lost the only piece of her that was hers and hers alone. Sure, Jake had seen the paintings, but he never commented on them in any depth. He might say he liked the colours or the texture or the way a scene had been captured, but he never asked Neve, or any of his students for that matter, what their paintings were about. The only time he talked through the paintings was if someone wanted to and there were several in Neve’s group who did have one-to-one sessions with Jake in the smaller studio.

  ‘I know I keep saying sorry, but I truly am,’ said Jake.

  ‘It’s OK. I do know what Kit’s like.’

  ‘Do you think he was genuinely interested or was he fishing?’

  ‘I’m not sure.’

  ‘Look, Neve, I just want to make it crystal clear how I feel,’ said Jake. ‘I know things aren’t good for you at home and I know how sad you are – about lots of things. I’m here for you, you do know that, don’t you?’

  ‘Of course, I do.’

  ‘I can be here for you all the time. I want to be here for you,’ said Jake. ‘In fact, I feel tormented that I can’t be, that you won’t let me. Please, Neve, seriously consider what I’m saying. Let me take care of you.’

  ‘Jake, please, not now …’

  ‘Let me finish,’ carried on Jake, his tone becoming more insistent. ‘I can make you happy. I’ve thought non-stop about you for days, weeks. You don’t need Kit. All he’ll ever be is controlling and domineering. I’m not like that. Trust me.’

  ‘Oh, Jake, I don’t know what to say.’ Neve closed her eyes. It was such a tempting offer but, she couldn’t take him up on it, could she? Would things be any different with Jake though once the novelty of being together had worn off? Kit hadn’t always been so caught up with work, but any hope he would go back to the considerate and loving man he’d been when they had first met was dwindling by the day.

  ‘Don’t say anything. Just think about it,’ replied Jake. ‘I know we haven’t had the usual sort of courtship that comes with a declaration like that, but I mean every single word of it. I love you, Neve. I want you. I need you.’

  The line went dead.

  The last statement took Neve by surprise. Such a declaration. He had sounded so insistent, so positive, so determined to convince her that he was the answer. Was it possible to know you loved someone when you hadn’t even been in a romantic relationship with them? Maybe Jake could see things clearer because he didn’t have the fog of a marriage to look through like she did. Neve examined her feelings for Jake, she wasn’t convinced she held the same level of conviction. She loved Kit, or she loved the man he used to be more. Whereas with Jake, she cared deeply for him, but she wasn’t sure she loved him. Did it matter if she didn’t love him as much as Kit? At the end of the day, Jake was willing to give her a baby, which was more than could be said of her husband

  Unsettled by the events of the morning, together with the prospect of dinner with the Harrisons that evening, Neve spent the rest of the day cleaning the house to within an inch of its life.

  Poppy was going to a friend’s house after school that day. It was a rare occurrence as Poppy didn’t always excel in social situations, but she had made a firm friendship with Libby, who also attended St Jospeh’s, and Neve encouraged the encounters. Libby had Autism, but was high functioning and the two girls had seemed to naturally gravitate towards each other.

  Neve had just settled herself in the living room with a cup of coffee, when the sound of tyres on the gravel announced the arrival of Kit. She glanced out of the window to double-check, and sure enough the Mercedes was being manoeuvred into its usual spot under the wisteria covered car port. A short while later, she heard the door open and Kit call out her name. She didn’t bother to answer.

  ‘Ah, you’re there.’ Kit stood in the doorway and from behind his back he produced a bouquet of pink roses. ‘For you,’ he said needlessly. He stepped further into the room. ‘I’m sorry about earlier.’

  Neve placed her cup and the remote control on the coffee table and stood up, accepting the bouquet. ‘They’re beautiful,’ she said, cradling them in her arms, rather like she would a child.

  Kit took a step closer, his jacket touching the cellophane. ‘I was genuinely interested in your paintings. It was a clumsy attempt at me trying to understand. I want to be able to help you, Neve.’

  ‘You don’t need to understand,’ said Neve.

  ‘I know I don’t need to understand, but I want to understand,’ said Kit, taking the flowers from her arms and placing them on the coffee table next to her cup. He cradled the top of her arms with his hands and pulled her towards him, lowering his head, his mouth making contact with her own. ‘Let me make it up to you,’ he said between the kisses.

  Neve wanted to pull away. She wasn’t used to this level of affection from Kit. It had been a long time since he had done anything more than robotic Sunday morning sex but there was something different about him today. Something different in his touch. Something different in the way he kissed her. An unexpected desire rekindled within her.

  ‘What are you thinking?’ asked Kit, his voice soft as his lips made their way around her jawline and the side of her neck.

  ‘That’s for me to know and you to find out,’ said Neve, with an ease she had forgotten. It was an exchange of comments they had often said to each other in the past. Neve’s pulse began to race in her neck as Kit continued to kiss her.

  She was taken back to when they were first married and how he could turn her knees to jelly with the merest of touches and kisses. She closed her eyes. How she longed t
o have the man she married back. If only time hadn’t changed him. Or changed her for that matter.

  She pushed thoughts of Jake from her mind, allowing herself the luxury of fantasising that everything was OK with her and Kit again. That the sink-hole in their marriage hadn’t yet formed.

  As Kit ran his hands down her side and round her thighs, pulling her closer to him, Neve knew that if she didn’t stop now, she wouldn’t want to stop. Maybe, if she let herself go, then Kit would too and maybe, just maybe, he wouldn’t insist on using a condom like he usually did.

  It was a calculated tactic. The phrase ‘if you can’t beat them, join them’ popped into her head. Play Kit at his own game. The game where you win at all costs.

  Neve found it surprisingly easy to let herself go. She returned her husband’s kisses, impatiently pulling his jacket from his shoulders and tossing it to the floor. They fumbled with each other’s clothing and in the end, Neve yanked her own jeans off, while Kit took care of his own.

  For the first time in a long time, Neve realised that she actually wanted to have sex with Kit. Driven on by her own desire, her own ulterior motive, she realised how passionate she felt.

  Now having made it up to the bedroom, they lay naked on the bed together. Neve pushed Kit onto his back and went to climb on top, kissing his neck and then his chest as she made small circular movements with her hips, grinding into his groin.

  ‘Wait,’ said Kit, his hand against her hip so she couldn’t move. He stretched his free arm over to the bedside table. Neve knew what he was looking for. The condoms.

  ‘Don’t,’ she said, softly. ‘Not yet.’

  Kit stopped in mid-reach, turning his head towards her. Their eyes met and for a moment she thought he might relent this time. ‘No dice.’ He shook his head.