The Face At the Window

by Ruby Speechley

  He nods, looks me straight in the eye and pins a smile on his face but it’s just hanging there. He’s probably wondering how he can get rid of me. I grin back, imagining Amy as the Cheshire Cat, listening to us, recording every damning word.

  He might think he’s got the upper hand, but he’ll never get rid of me that easily.

  Chapter Forty-Six

  Monday 13 August 2018

  Gemma

  Becca taps on the bathroom door. I struggle to push myself up, but I manage to stretch up to the bolt to unlock it.

  ‘Oh, Gemma.’ Becca kneels beside me next to the toilet. ‘It’s awful what those people are saying about you, but you mustn’t take any notice, honestly, they’re vicious trolls who don’t know you.’

  I lean against her shoulder and she gently rubs my arm. There are no words to describe how sick it makes me feel that people out there think I harmed my baby.

  ‘Nick should be here. Where the hell is he? He’s leaving me to deal with all of this on my own.’ The anger balloons in my chest and a new determination to fight for Thomas rises inside me.

  ‘Do you want me to try and call him?’

  ‘Could you? Please.’

  She helps me up and back to the living room where Greg is on the phone.

  ‘I’ll make tea and call him, okay?’ Becca collects up the empties onto a tray and takes them into the kitchen. I rest my head back on the sofa.

  ‘How are you feeling?’ Greg asks, putting the phone on the table.

  I shake my head. If I speak, I’ll start crying again.

  ‘The police are doing what they can to shut down the trolls. There’s always a minority ready to feast on someone else’s misery. Makes you wonder about the future of the human race, doesn’t it?’

  I nod and take a tissue from the box on the coffee table.

  He takes another call. I shut my eyes and wish I could drift off to sleep but my mind keeps dragging me back to the call with Dad. How long is Mum going to ignore me for? Ever since I got together with Nick, I seem to be apologizing to them about something.

  I’d left the wedding chapel with Nick in the limo and it had taken us to a quaint little restaurant on The Strip. We sat outside under the stars and ate seafood and steak and drank more champagne, except I couldn’t eat very much because I was still going over and over in my mind how to tell my parents I’d just got hitched.

  ‘Could I have my phone now?’ I’d asked when dessert arrived. I’d wanted to call them as soon as we left the chapel, but I thought Nick would say it was rude to ask when we’d barely been married two minutes, so I tried to leave as polite an amount of time as possible.

  ‘Do you have to, now?’ He reached for my hand across the table and gazed at me with his mesmerizing eyes. They were hard to say no to. Sea-green like a jewel with a dark edge. I’d never seen eyes like his before. I’d searched the internet to see if there was a name for them. Limbal rings – a dark border separating the iris from the whites of the eyes, they highlight the iris colour and make the whites look whiter.

  ‘Do you really want to let them ruin your special day?’ he’d said.

  I sipped my drink. The last thing I wanted to do was upset him. I hated him losing his temper, although it had only happened once in the three months we’d been together.

  ‘You know the call will end in an argument.’

  He’d made today so special and if Mum and Dad didn’t like him, didn’t accept our marriage, then I’d have to learn to live with that.

  ‘Tell me I’m wrong?’ He laid my phone on the table and gently pushed it towards me. ‘I’m not stopping you, all I’m saying is do you want their disapproval to be your abiding memory?’

  ‘You’re right, it can wait.’ I’d shaken my head of curls and tightened my lips. I pushed the phone back to him. It would spoil the whole day. Anyway, I’d had quite a lot to drink.

  A tiny voice had piped up in my head saying that not telling them was tantamount to lying. But I’d brushed it aside, far away, out of my mind.

  And look where lying to my parents has got me. That decision marked the end of my relationship with them. Now I’m utterly alone. I should have listened when they said he was too old for me, that we hadn’t been together long enough to really know each other. I thought Mum was being nasty when she told me I sounded like a parrot, repeating everything Nick said, not having my own opinions like I used to. And Nick certainly made sure he isolated me from all the people who really care about me. Becca’s the only one I see and that’s because he keeps a close eye on us.

  ‘I’m sorry, I can’t get through,’ Becca says, bringing in a trayful of fresh drinks.

  I open my eyes.

  ‘Oh sorry, were you having nap?’

  ‘No, it’s okay.’ I rub my eyes.

  ‘Maybe Nick’s on his way back already?’ Becca passes me a mug of tea.

  ‘More bad news, I’m afraid.’ Greg strides in switching his phone off. ‘A rogue group have started combing the Dunstable Downs. The police are on their way to break it up.’

  ‘You mean the Twitter trolls?’ I can’t believe it.

  ‘It seems to have stemmed from them, yes.’

  ‘What are they looking for?’ Becca says, then immediately looks at me, mouth open aghast. ‘I’m so, so sorry. I was being stupid.’ She looks mortified.

  A car horn makes us all jump and look towards the curtained window. A door slams hard. Someone is shouting and swearing. There’s only one person who speaks like that, but he normally saves it for me. Voices are escalating. Greg pulls a curtain aside.

  ‘Nick’s back.’

  Chapter Forty-Seven

  30 July 2018

  Scarlett

  As soon as he’s gone, Amy comes out from the bushes.

  ‘He went for it then by the sound of it,’ she laughs, her hair peppered with tiny flowers.

  ‘Yep, completely.’

  ‘Didn’t ask for any proof, like a positive test. But he might.’

  ‘Why would I be lying?’ I grin.

  ‘You can buy them online, so we’ll need to order one.’

  ‘Can you really?’

  ‘You can get anything. Even fat suits to make you look pregnant.’

  ‘That’s crazy but if I have to do it, I will. As soon as he’s left the mouse and has come back to me, I’ll tragically miscarry. Tell him I’m not ready to try for another one. For a few years at least. I don’t want to be saddled with a kid at my age.’

  ‘Well, I’ve got everything recorded and I took a few snaps, but it was quite hard with all the leaves in the way. It was a nightmare trying not to make a sound.’

  I laugh as I brush leaves and flowers from her hair. We stroll arm in arm over to the ice-cream hut and buy a lolly each, then sit under a tree and listen back to the whole conversation.

  ‘That’s brilliant, well done.’ I hug her. I could not do any of this without her. ‘Email it to me, then we’ve got a back-up copy. We need to keep all this evidence against him in one place in case it all goes pear-shaped.’

  ‘I think you could ask him to do almost anything now. He’ll be so scared of you turning up at his front door and speaking to his wife.’ Amy’s tongue is blue from licking her bubble-gum lolly.

  ‘Please don’t call her that.’ I wrinkle my nose.

  ‘Sorry, the mouse.’

  ‘Hello, girls, what are you up to on this beautiful day?’ Mrs Taylor, our old headmistress is standing at our feet wearing a long flowery dress and matching sun hat. Her ankles are as thick as her legs and she always wears tights no matter how hot it is.

  ‘Oh you know, plotting murder and mayhem.’ I turn over the piece of paper with Cole’s name on it without looking down.

  ‘Well, you know you were one of our star pupils, Scarlett, so I hope you’re putting your time to good use. You can learn a lot from her, young Amy.’

  ‘What are you doing this holiday, Mrs Taylor?’ I ask.

  ‘We came back from the South of France
on Friday, now I’m back to working out details for next term. No rest for the wicked, eh?’

  ‘No there isn’t.’ I side-eye Amy.

  ‘Anyway, I’ll say toodle-oo. Enjoy the rest of your summer, girls.’

  We wave goodbye and as soon as she is out of sight our smiles drop away.

  ‘Do you think she saw this?’ I pick up the piece of paper with our plan on and Cole’s name circled in the middle.

  ‘I doubt it, honestly she must be so old I don’t think her eyesight is that good.’

  ‘As long as she didn’t see Cole leaving. We need to be more careful.’

  I gather up our papers and stuff them in my shoulder bag. We walk along the river, then over the bridge and back to my car parked at the Harpur Centre. Amy takes out the packet of Malted Milks she left in the glove compartment. She offers them to me. I take two, then she stuffs one in her mouth.

  ‘Mmm.’ I take a bite and nod. ‘I’d forgotten how much I love these.’ A moment later I’m in Dad’s arms sitting in front of the telly with a glass of warm milk and one of these biscuits. Some old black-and-white film is on with grown-ups kissing and one of them has to go away. Dad is crying and I’m scared. I cuddle up closer to him, my head pressing against his chest. He says my name in minty breath mixed with tobacco.

  But was it my dad or was it a boyfriend of Mum’s?

  Amy touches my arm and I’m suddenly back in the enclosed space of the car. ‘Are you okay, you’ve gone really quiet?’

  I start the engine. I must have only been about four when that happened. I don’t remember him after that. If it even was him. I wish Mum would tell me why he went away.

  ‘I’m okay, I just had a really vivid memory of my dad. At least I think it was him. Now I know why Mum doesn’t buy these biscuits any more.’

  ‘At least you believe you remember him. I can’t recall a single thing about mine.’

  ‘I know, I’m sorry.’ I drop my token in the machine and the barrier goes up.

  ‘Mum says it’s the less painful option.’

  ‘She’s probably right, except I don’t know why my dad’s not in my life. Did he do something wrong or did Mum just fall out with him? Maybe she knocked him back so many times he didn’t bother sticking around? He could be dead now for all I know.’

  She pops out another biscuit and hands it to me. ‘Your mum’s really nice so I think he must have done something quite bad.’

  ‘I don’t know. Lately I’ve been wondering, what if he took his own life? That could be why she won’t tell me because it’s too painful for her.’ I bite into the biscuit and queue behind two cars at the exit. ‘Or maybe it’s really straightforward and she just doesn’t want him in our lives because it’s easier for her. He probably wasn’t paying maintenance and she didn’t love him any more so why have him hanging around, turning up when he felt like it when he wasn’t contributing? I know Mum wouldn’t have put up with that.’

  ‘Whatever the reason, even if it’s hard for her, you should know.’

  ‘She gets so upset or shuts down completely. I gave up asking years ago. But now it feels like there’s this wedge between us – this thing I mustn’t mention – a big secret I’m not allowed to know even though I’m grown up now. He could have been kidnapped when I was a baby and he’s still not been found. What if no one knows where he is?’

  ‘You really need to ask her again.’ Amy bites a corner of biscuit and pulls a sad face.

  ‘Cole blames his mum for his dad leaving when he was young. I think he’s scared of the mouse not letting him see his baby if he breaks up with her. I would feel terrible if his kid grew up not having him there. I’d never stop him seeing his child.’

  ‘Who knows what she would do. Whatever happens, don’t feel bad because it’s between them. They’re the ones that need to do the right thing and let each other see the baby.’

  ‘I suppose so.’ I turn right at the lights opposite Wilko on the high street and head home. ‘I’m going to ask Mum once more about my dad. Cole’s always saying fathers should be able to see their children as much as mothers do, but kids have just as much right to see their dads. There’s always been an empty space in my life no one else but my dad can fill. And now I’m almost an adult, I want to solve this final piece of the puzzle, so this time I’m not taking no for an answer.’

  Chapter Forty-Eight

  Monday 13 August 2018

  Gemma

  Nick barges in and flops down on the sofa, face ashen.

  ‘Bloody mad lot out there. I thought they weren’t going to let me in.’ He runs one hand after the other through his hair, staring into space.

  ‘Are you okay?’ Greg asks.

  ‘No luck, obviously.’ He shows his palms, empty, where a baby should be. A pinch of sympathy trickles through me. I see now that he expected to be the hero, defeat the baddies and bring our son home safely, but he’s failed. He doesn’t like to fail.

  ‘I take it there’s no good news here?’ Nick glances at me for the first time and I shake my head.

  ‘Nothing concrete.’ Greg fills him in on developments, none of which seem to be bringing us any closer to finding Thomas.

  ‘It looks like your Facebook page has been cloned, Nick. I need to ask you something about it.’ Greg taps the app on his phone and shows him. ‘Do you know who might have done this?’

  ‘No idea.’

  ‘Someone you know, someone targeting you through work or completely random?’

  ‘Where did they get all these photos of me?’ He holds up a page to show me pictures of himself as a child, before he got his ears pinned. He scrolls through them. ‘Have you got something to do with this?’ His eyes narrow at me.

  ‘No, of course not.’ I frown at him and Greg, who looks puzzled.

  ‘You’re the only person who knows about these photos.’ The muscle is pulsing in his cheek.

  ‘Are you sure about that?’ Greg asks. ‘What about your parents, siblings or former school friends – wouldn’t they have seen these too and possibly have their own photos of you from back then?’

  ‘I suppose.’ He carries on swiping through them without looking up.

  ‘Perhaps you could make a list of those people for me. Are any of them likely to have a grudge against you.’

  ‘All of them, probably.’ He slaps the phone into Greg’s hand.

  ‘We need to assume this is linked to Thomas’s abduction.’

  ‘Why?’ Nick pulls a face of disgust.

  ‘Because a message has been posted up today, purporting to be from you.’

  ‘Saying what?’

  Greg swipes to the post and reads it out. ‘Our baby is missing and it’s my fault – do you think Gemma will ever forgive me?!’

  ‘What the fuck?’ Nick grabs the phone from him. Greg glances at me. Maybe I should look surprised.

  ‘Who would have written something like that?’ I sit upright, frowning again.

  ‘What do you think it means?’ Greg asks Nick. ‘Have you any idea why Thomas’s abduction could be perceived as being your fault?’

  ‘No, of course not. It must be from some nutter.’

  ‘Could it be the same one?’ I say to him.

  ‘Same one as…?’ Greg asks.

  ‘As the emails I’ve been getting. Nasty emails.’

  ‘And you haven’t told us this because…?’

  ‘I didn’t think they were relevant. I assumed they were spam or some weirdo trying to attack council staff.’

  ‘Has anyone else at work received similar emails?’

  ‘Not recently that I’m aware of, but it’s not unusual for staff to be targeted by the public because we’ve turned down their planning application for an extension or telling a landlord that we’re sending an inspector to check an environmental hazard such as mould and damp that’s been reported by one of their tenants.’

  ‘Can you show me the emails?’

  Nick takes his phone out and flicks through his mailbox. He shows Greg a
couple of them.

  ‘Can you forward them to me, please? We’ll try and track them down. Have you had any, Gemma?’

  ‘No, but I was getting horrible comments on Instagram. Actually, they seem to have stopped.’

  ‘Have you mentioned them to us before? I don’t think I was aware.’

  ‘I’m sure I did. But it’s hardly unusual being trolled on social media, is it?’

  ‘No, but it could still be relevant.’ Greg stands and holds both hands up. ‘Okay, I want you both to think hard again about anyone who could wish harm on you or your family. If you have any enemies you think could have taken Thomas.’

  Nick and I nod, like we’ve just been told off.

  ‘And explain to me, Nick, because this could be relevant too – why do you go by the name Truman Fitzgerald on social media, why not your real name?’

  Nick side-eyes me and for a second I think he’s going to lie.

  ‘Because I used to be a school teacher.’

  Chapter Forty-Nine

  31 July 2018

  Scarlett

  Mum makes us tuna pasta for lunch the following day. We carry the plates and bowls of food outside and sit round the table under the parasol. The low drone of a neighbour mowing his lawn is accompanied by the tinkle of next door’s metal wind chimes hanging from her cherry tree.

  ‘So what happened with Rob, I thought you liked him?’ I ask, scraping my plate clean with a piece of garlic bread.

  ‘I did but I think he was looking for a wife.’

  ‘Isn’t that what you want one day?’

  ‘What for?’ she snaps.

  ‘I don’t mean get married necessarily, just find a guy you really like, that you want to stay with.’

  ‘I’m happy as I am, thanks. I don’t need a man around telling me what to do.’ She eyeballs me in case I want to dispute it.

  ‘Were you ever happy with Dad?’

  Her smile drops. She stands up and turns away from me.

  ‘You had me, after all, so you must have liked him once.’