Discarded

by M. A. Hunter

  Chapter Forty-One

  Now

  Weymouth, Dorset

  I’m absolutely exhausted as the train door whooshes and opens and I step down onto the platform, leaving only a scattering of passengers who will continue their journey on to Devon. I don’t envy them. All I want to do is get home, shower, and rest. I received a follow-up message from Rick while I was on the train, telling me he’s reserved tables at the Italian, Thai, and Indian restaurants that he suggested earlier, and all I have to do is tell him which to cancel. I certainly have to give him credit for enthusiasm and perseverance.

  It has been a long time since anyone showed such interest in me, aside from Maddie, but her interest is usually a show to allow her to check on how I’m progressing on my latest manuscript. After the week I’ve had, maybe there is more benefit to putting it all out of my head for a couple of hours. They say a change is as good as a rest and, frankly, if I sit on my tod at home, I will spend all night going over everything again.

  I reread Rick’s message and reply to tell him I’m in the mood for a chicken madras and a garlic naan. A bubble of excitement ripples up from my gut. If Rachel were here, she’d tell me to forget about Jack and see where things could go with Rick, and I’m prepared to accept the advice of the imaginary version of my voice of reason in lieu of the real thing. It’s just gone six, so I should just about have enough time to get ready before he calls for me.

  DCS Rawani and Jack were certainly thorough with the taking of my statements and printed copies of both are safely secured in the satchel on my back. The second statement will remain locked in Rawani’s desk until such time as we need to use it. Jack has agreed to keep hold of the picture of Tomlinson with Turgood and Saltzburg as we all agreed it was too risky to have it tested forensically. Jack has already checked it for prints and has deduced that the envelope was pre-glued, so there would have been no reason for the sender to lick the flap. The chance of recovering DNA from the photograph or envelope is slim, and doesn’t outweigh the danger of Tomlinson’s face being recognised and word spreading. Rawani is right: we need to keep this off the books until we have more evidence pointing either towards or against Tomlinson’s involvement. As Jack rightly claimed, the photograph could be perfectly innocent, and sent by someone trying to deflect suspicion from themselves.

  The sky overhead is thick with fluffy white and light grey clouds, the beach is deserted save for the occasional jogger or dog walker, and the only sound in the air is the call of the seagulls welcoming me home. I wouldn’t change it for anything! Don’t get me wrong, there’s nothing I love more than paddling my feet as I walk along the beach with the heat of the sun on my face, but there is something so tranquil about my town during the winter. In a world so busy and loud, this is a little piece of paradise.

  I have to double-take when I see two bright suitcases – one hot pink, and the other sky blue – stacked up beside my front door.

  ‘There she is!’ Rachel exclaims, throwing her arms into the air and hurrying across the road before wrapping them around me. ‘I was about to send out a search party!’

  ‘Rach? What are you doing here? I thought you were still in Spain?’

  She kisses my cheek and I can’t get over the giddiness of her smile.

  ‘We literally got back at lunchtime and I told Daniella that we have to come straight here and tell you our news.’

  I spot Daniella waving nervously from the edge of the pavement, as if she’s reluctant to intrude on our embrace.

  ‘News?’ I ask.

  ‘I will tell you inside. Come on, let’s go.’

  Rachel links her arm through mine and drags me across the pavement, stopping only so I can greet Daniella, before she is thrusting me up the steps and to my door.

  ‘I did give you a spare key for a reason,’ I say as I open the door.

  She grabs the handle of the pink case and pulls it inside. ‘Yeah, I know, but that’s at home and we came straight from the airport.’

  I help Daniella with her suitcase and can’t imagine what she is making of my humble abode. She is a model used to the glitz and glamour of five-star hotels, where champagne is on tap and dinner comes in those tiny bite-size portions. She must feel like Alice tumbling down the rabbit hole.

  We park the cases in the hallway and squeeze through to the kitchen, and I immediately fill the kettle. ‘Your postcard only arrived this morning,’ I say, pointing to where it’s stuck to the fridge door with a magnet.

  She turns and looks at where I’m pointing. ‘See, that’s what I’ve been saying for years! I wrote that on about day three of our trip and I almost beat it home.’ She turns back and I can see that her frustration at the poor delivery time hasn’t affected her excitable mood.

  ‘So how was the holiday? Sorry, Daniella, I know it was work for you.’

  Daniella joins Rachel at the breakfast bar. ‘It was really nice.’ Her Italian accent is as strong as ever. ‘How have you been?’

  I open my mouth to offer my usual ‘I’m fine,’ before closing it again. ‘I want to hear whatever your news is.’

  Rachel’s smile widens as she looks into Daniella’s eyes and they clasp hands. ‘Shall we tell her together?’

  ‘No, you tell her,’ Daniella replies, her cheeks darkening a fraction.

  Rachel turns back to look at me and I can genuinely say I’ve never seen her looking so happy, and tears start to haze my vision. She takes a deep breath. ‘Well… while we were away, Daniella asked me to marry her, and I said yes.’

  If Daniella wasn’t holding onto Rachel’s hand, I dare say she would have torn round the room like a rapidly deflating balloon. She thrusts her left hand out, and I see the sparkling shimmer of the gem on her ring finger.

  I throw my hands up and my mouth hangs open. There are so many words I want to share: to tell her how happy I am for her; how happy I am that she’s found someone who can make her this happy; how it’s the best news I’ve heard in a long time. The words remain in my head as they vie for attention, and instead I waddle over to the two of them and pull them both into the biggest hug I’ve ever given anyone. I can feel the tears blotting on my cheeks, but I don’t care. I love this woman more than any other friend, and my heart is fit to burst for the two of them.

  I break away and kiss them both on their cheeks, still unable to put my emotions into coherent words. ‘You’ll have to tell me all about the proposal,’ I manage to blubber.

  Rachel is tearing up too. ‘I knew you’d be as excited as us.’ A frown threatens to sully the atmosphere. ‘Oh shoot! I meant to pick up some champagne on our way over and I forg—’

  ‘I’ll go buy some,’ Daniella says forthrightly. ‘You two have a lot to catch up on. Emma, is there a shop nearby?’

  ‘There’s a grocery shop on the corner, but I’m not sure if they’ll do champagne. If you head into the town, there’s a Tesco Express a little way along. You might have better luck there.’

  They kiss and Daniella takes her leave.

  ‘I can’t believe my best friend is getting married,’ I say when we’re alone.

  ‘I know, right? I always thought I’d become one of those cat-loving spinsters, but when she asked, I couldn’t think of anything I wanted more. When we broke up after that row with my parents… it was a really tough time for me and I don’t know if I would have got through it without you there to support me.’

  ‘I really didn’t do a lot,’ I counter.

  ‘Yes, you did, Em. You were there for me and you didn’t pass judgement when I was becoming obsessed with her social media feed, and on those nights when I probably should have laid off the wine. You were there to hear me sounding off, but you allowed me to mourn the most serious relationship in my life. And then when she came back and wanted to get back together, you didn’t discourage me. You’ve been so loyal while I’ve been coming to terms with my sexuality, and I’m a better person because you are in my life.’ She takes another deep breath. ‘Which is why I’m desperat
ely hoping you’ll agree to be my maid of honour?’

  Fresh tears erupt as I nod frantically. ‘Oh gosh, I’d be so honoured.’

  ‘You’ll do it?’

  ‘In a heartbeat, Rach. It means the world to me that you asked.’

  We share another hug and my heart truly feels close to bursting. This was just the news I needed today, and having my best friend back is a bonus I wasn’t expecting.

  ‘There’s something else I need to tell you…’ she says conspiratorially. ‘Before Daniella gets back.’

  ‘If you tell me you’re also pregnant, I think my head will explode.’

  She laughs awkwardly. ‘No, not that.’ She takes my hands in hers and fixes me with a hard stare. ‘Daniella isn’t the only reason I went to Barcelona.’

  My brow furrows. ‘I don’t understand.’

  She leads me to the table and makes me sit while she drags over a second chair to sit before me. ‘Before we went, I was doing some digging of my own. After what happened with Aurélie Lebrun, it got me thinking. She was abducted while on holiday in the UK and held here, but what about those British children who go missing abroad? Do they remain abroad, or are any of them trafficked back to the UK, and vice versa?’ She breaks off for a minute, summoning the strength to continue. ‘I heard a rumour about a British girl seen in Girona, a town about an hour north of Barcelona. My source saw a picture of Anna and claimed it was the same girl. This would have been a couple of years after her disappearance. I know I probably should have told you about it, but you’ve been through so much recently that I didn’t want to send you down another garden path.’

  The breath catches in my throat.

  ‘So I decided I would go and do some digging on your behalf, but it didn’t lead to anything. I managed to find a kind of commune which was raided by the Spanish police a few years ago, in which a number of underage children – boys and girls – were discovered. I don’t know if you remember, but it was quite a coup at the time and all the children who had run away or been abducted were reunited with their families. I spoke to one of the detectives who worked on the case but he said he didn’t see anyone matching Anna’s description, and the lead has run cold. I’m so sorry.’

  In the years since Anna disappeared, the prospect that she was sold to someone overseas has crossed my mind, but there’s never been any evidence to support such a theory, and so I haven’t pursued it with any gusto. I do recall the police raid in Spain that Rachel is referring to, though I didn’t realise what part of Spain it occurred in. This second revelation has certainly dampened the mood.

  ‘Please don’t tell Daniella that’s what I was doing; she says I’m a workaholic and I promised her I would relax when she was working so she doesn’t know I caught the bus to Girona and I’d prefer it stay that way.’

  ‘Of course.’ I nod. ‘Thank you for sacrificing your pool time to look for Anna… Sorry, I don’t know what else to say.’

  ‘You don’t have to say anything. I just wish it could have been better news.’ She releases my hands and sits back. ‘So, what’s been going on with you while I’ve been away? Seen much of Jack?’

  I’m about to tell her about my date with Rick when my phone rings and I see Pam Ratchett’s name on the screen. A sense of dread claws its way across my torso.

  ‘Hi, Pam, is everything okay?’

  ‘Yes, Emma, I’m ringing with good news for a change. You said you wanted to be notified when your mum was next having a good day. She’s just woken from her nap and she’s asking for you directly. I appreciate it’s short notice, but if you’re close by do you think you could come up here?’

  I picture Rick’s face when he reads a message from me asking for a raincheck, but what choice do I have? She’s my mum, and she needs me more.

  Chapter Forty-Two

  Now

  Weymouth, Dorset

  Rick said he understands my need to see Mum, but I could hear the hurt in his voice when I phoned to explain that I needed to postpone our date. He told me not to worry and that he could easily switch the reservation to tomorrow, but it hasn’t helped alleviate my guilt. Here’s this guy desperate to impress me and I seemingly keep finding excuses to keep him at a distance. Maybe I’m just not the loving kind; or maybe – like Jack – I’m not ready to welcome love into my life while all this is hanging over me.

  Rachel and Daniella debunked to the nearest hotel with a vacancy and I’ve agreed to meet up with them after my visit to the home, if time allows, or for brunch tomorrow otherwise. I do so desperately want to celebrate their engagement but I’m sure they can find plenty of other things to do without me crashing their celebration. I’ve never so much as been a bridesmaid, so I will have to read up on what is expected of the bride’s maid of honour. They haven’t set a date yet, so I have plenty of time to educate myself and it will serve as a welcome distraction from everything else.

  These thoughts play in my mind as I make the journey to the home on foot once again. It’s only when I see the old building and the wrought-iron gates at the top of the road that I start to feel positive about the journey. Pam was adamant that Mum is in a much better place today and I don’t know how many more days like this the future has in store, so I need to grasp it with all my might.

  Part of me is tempted to video the visit for posterity, but I think it would make Mum feel weird having a camera pointed at her. She was never much one for posing when I was growing up; in fact, we weren’t much of a family for photographs at all. There are two albums in her room at the home, and from what I can tell she and Dad rarely took more than a couple of pictures of us as a family when we did go on holiday. After Anna’s disappearance we barely left Portland, so the few photographs there are of me between ages seven and my graduation day were taken by me and my friends.

  Visiting hours at the home are usually restricted to between meal times so that the nurses can maintain a routine with the residents. I’m assuming Pam’s invitation so late in the afternoon is an exception to the rule. I explain why I’m there as I sign in, and the bored-looking girl behind the desk tells me Mum is eating supper in her room and is expecting me. She’s less sullen than she was on Sunday and there is no sign of a sudoku book this time. I thank her and hurry along the corridor, knock twice, and open the door to Mum’s room.

  She is sitting at the small round table, eagerly eating sausages, mash, and gravy. She leaps up with excitement as she sees me enter and shuffles over, putting her hands on my upper arms.

  ‘Ah, there you are, Emma. I had hoped to have finished supper before you arrived, but I still have a few mouthfuls left. Would you like a cup of tea or coffee? I can ask one of the nurses to bring you a drink.’

  This is the most coherent and welcoming I’ve seen her in I don’t know how long. Even before the specialist suggested the round-the-clock care offered by the home, I can’t remember when she seemed so pleased to see me. If I could bottle a moment, this would be it.

  ‘Tea would be lovely, Mum, thanks.’

  She leans in conspiratorially and nudges me with her elbow. ‘I can ask if there’s any bangers and mash going spare too, if you fancy?’ She adds a wink at the end.

  ‘That’s very kind,’ I say with a smile, ‘but just the tea will be fine.’

  She ushers me to sit in the remaining chair at the table then scurries to the door, opens it, and attracts a passing nurse’s attention, before returning. ‘Do you mind if I finish? I’d hate for it to get cold.’

  ‘No, please finish your dinner. I don’t want to intrude.’

  She picks up her knife and fork. ‘Why don’t you tell me what’s been going on in your life while I eat? Have you got any new books due out soon? Pam was telling me you’re quite the success story these days.’

  I don’t know how to answer that. Usually when I’m here she doesn’t even recognise me, let alone recall my writing career. I try to tell her about some of the success, but it always feels like it falls on deaf ears, and I don’t like to boast.<
br />
  ‘Well, I don’t know where to begin. The hardback version of Isolated came out recently, and I was signing copies of it at the Waterstones in town on Sunday. My next book is waiting to be reviewed by my agent and then it’ll be sent to my publishers, and is shelved for release before the end of the year. I’m keeping busy in between times, helping the police with cases involving missing children and we’ve had a couple of big successes, but I’m not allowed to share too much about all that as it’s top secret.’

  I could easily tell her about Faye and Cormack and Tomlinson’s involvement as she’ll probably forget most of it by the time she wakes in the morning, but I don’t want to spoil her positive mood by bringing Anna to the forefront of her mind. I know I’m being selfish, but I don’t remember a time when it was just me and Mum, without the spectre of Anna looming over us.

  ‘My agent Maddie is confident of selling the media rights to a television company who are interested in adapting my next book into a series. That’s what happened with my first book, and the company we worked with did a great job by all accounts.’

  She opens her eyes wider as she chews on a slice of sausage. ‘They’re turning one of your books into a television series? When’s that going to be on then? And will it be BBC or ITV?’

  ‘It was released a year ago on a digital streaming channel, Mum, so you probably wouldn’t get to see it in here, as I don’t think they have access.’

  ‘Oh, I see. Well, do you think you could get hold of a copy for me to watch? I’d like that.’

  I blink back the sting behind my eyes. To be honest, I’m pretty sure she wouldn’t enjoy the subject matter of Freddie’s troubled past, but it means the world to me that she wants to watch it because of my involvement.

  ‘Sure, I’ll see if I can find it for you,’ I say smiling. ‘How are your sausages?’