The Missing Treasures of Amy Ashton

by Eleanor Ray

  “You should have told me.”

  “I was ashamed,” said Chantel. “And it was just the once. Until the next time. He didn’t always hit me. I overslept one time and he held a pillow down on my face. I still have nightmares, gasping for air when there isn’t any. I thought he was going to kill me, but he laughed it off, said I was overreacting. I told him I was going to leave him, and he said that if I did, he’d track me down. And that the next time it wouldn’t be a joke.”

  Chantel looked at Amy. “Amy, I was terrified of him. And I was terrified to leave.”

  “You could have come to me.”

  “It was the first place he’d look. Your place and Mum’s. I knew what he was like when he got angry, and I didn’t want him coming near you guys like that.” Chantel paused. “But enough about Jack,” she said. “I need to tell you what happened to Tim.”

  “Did Tim know about Jack?” Amy found she was tapping impatiently on the lighter.

  “No,” said Chantel. “Jack despised Tim. Even though he saw how close you and I were, he still got it in his head that there was something going on with Tim and me. Then, while you were in Florence, Tim asked to see me. Alone.”

  “What for?” asked Amy, squeezing the lighter in her hands.

  “He said it was important,” continued Chantel. “I couldn’t meet him straightaway—Jack would have gone ballistic if he’d found out. So I waited until Jack had a colleague’s leaving do, the day after you were back. We arranged to meet in secret.”

  Amy felt sick. She looked up and saw Scarlett perched on a box, listening intently. “And Jack caught you together?” she said.

  “It wasn’t like that,” said Chantel, her voice hurried. “It wasn’t. Amy, you have to believe me.”

  “Tell me what it was like,” said Amy.

  “We met in Abletree Park,” continued Chantel.

  “The place where the photo was taken.”

  “I took that snap while I was waiting. I thought you’d like the colors of the sunset, it reminded me of one of your paintings. I printed it later, for you. I thought you would want to see where it happened. The last thing that Tim saw…”

  “How kind,” said Amy. She could feel years of doubt and frustration and anger leaking out as sarcasm.

  “Just listen,” said Chantel. “Tim wanted to talk about you. He was going to propose.”

  Amy sat back. It was what she wanted to hear, but it felt like she’d been hit by one of Charles’s JCBs. “The ring,” she said, reaching for it.

  “Yes, the ring,” replied Chantel. “He’d handed it to me to take a look at, and he wanted advice on how to ask you. Of course I tried it on. That’s why I still had it after…”

  “What happened?” asked Amy.

  “Jack must have followed me,” said Chantel. “I told him I was going to the gym, and like I said, he had a leaving do. But after I’d hugged Tim, I saw him. Standing there. Watching us.”

  Amy looked at her friend. She’d stopped fiddling with the thread and was gripping the cushion.

  “He was silent at first,” she continued. “Then he started running at me. Calling me a fat slag and saying he was going to kill me. Tim told me to run, and I did. I ran and ran. I knew that if he caught me, he could do anything. If he hit me for missing the gym, suffocated me for sleeping in…”

  “What about Tim?”

  “I thought he was behind me at first,” said Chantel. “But when I looked back, he was shouting something at Jack. Then I saw Jack push him. Tim pushed him back. Next thing I knew, Jack punched him in the face. Tim fell backwards, I think he hit his head on the railings. Then he was on the ground. Not moving.”

  “And you carried on running?”

  “Yes.” Chantel’s voice was a whisper. “I did. And I’ve never forgiven myself.”

  They sat in silence.

  “I don’t know what happened next,” said Chantel eventually. “I kept running, like I said, and eventually checked into a B&B for the night. I was just going to lie low for a bit, till everything had cooled down. Then I’d go back, get my things, and leave Jack for good. I thought Tim was okay, I really did. A black eye, maybe, and a sore head. It was me Jack was really angry with. Me he took things out on.”

  “But Tim wasn’t all right,” said Amy. Tears were brewing, but she needed to hear how the story ended.

  “Jack phoned me, again and again. But I ignored him. There were calls from you too, but I thought you’d be angry at me, leaving Tim like that. So I ignored everyone. Eventually I decided I couldn’t hide forever, so I answered the phone to Jack.”

  “He told you Tim was…” Amy couldn’t say it.

  “No,” said Chantel. “He didn’t tell me. He’s never told me. But he sounded different. He cried down the phone. I’d never heard him cry before. He said he wasn’t angry and just wanted to see me again. To make sure I was okay.”

  Chantel paused and looked at Amy. “You didn’t meet with him?” asked Amy.

  “No,” said Chantel. “I told him I never wanted to see him again. But I asked about Tim, and he said Tim had run away like I had. But that wasn’t true. I’d seen Tim hit the ground. He hadn’t run. That’s when I got worried.”

  Amy closed her eyes and held her hands over her eyelids to block out the light. She took a deep breath.

  “I called my mum,” continued Chantel. “She told me that Tim hadn’t come home. You’d phoned her, looking for us both. I asked her not to say anything to anyone. If Tim wasn’t okay, then I was the only person who could connect his disappearance to Jack. And Jack knew that. I was dangerous to him, which put me in even more danger.”

  Amy opened her eyes again. “He always told me that he believed you two had run off together,” said Amy, the pieces falling into place. “He told the team investigating that too. And the local paper.”

  “I saw that,” said Chantel. “If that was what he was saying, I was sure he knew Tim wasn’t coming back. Jack had killed him. He was covering his tracks.”

  Amy felt the weight of years of not knowing crushing her. “You could have told the police,” said Amy. “He would have been arrested.”

  “Would they have believed me over him?” asked Chantel. “Me? I’d been in trouble with the police for drugs. I hadn’t even realized what happened for days. He was a distinguished officer on the fast track. And he could be so convincing, with his hero act.”

  “But there would have been evidence,” said Amy. “DNA, prints?”

  “Jack was smart and he was a policeman. If there was anything to link him to what happened, he would have got rid of it right away.”

  “The… body?” Amy hated to say the word. It felt so final. So unconnected to Tim.

  “I figured Jack would have known what to do, where to hide it. It was already dark, and we were in a remote bit of the park.”

  Amy thought about the playground under construction, about the digger Charles had identified. Deep holes already dug in the earth. She shivered. “There was another reason,” said Chantel, taking Amy’s hand. “I told you in the letter.”

  “I never got that stupid letter,” said Amy, snatching her hand away. “Why didn’t you call?”

  “He threatened you, Amy,” said Chantel. “He said that if I went to the police, he’d get to you before they got to him.”

  Amy sat back.

  “I thought by leaving, I was protecting you,” continued Chantel. “Even contacting you put you in danger. Tim lost his life to that man, Amy. I couldn’t let him hurt you too.”

  “Chantel…” began Amy. She couldn’t finish the sentence. Wasted years, curdled by fears of betrayal. All down to a letter that slipped inside a pot.

  No. All down to Jack.

  Jack, who killed the man she loved and terrified her best friend into abandoning her. She thought of all the visits to the police station, the comfort he had offered her. The reassurance.

  The lies.

  She squeezed the lighter in her hand even more tightly, althoug
h she could feel the thin plastic strain under her grip.

  “I know you’re angry with me,” said Chantel, looking at Amy’s hands. “It was all my fault. I fell for Jack. I moved in with him. It was me who brought him into our lives. And Tim was the one who…” Chantel trailed off. “I’m so sorry, Amy,” she said. “I had to get away. I thought you’d be better off without me.” Chantel looked around the room, at the towers of boxes and birds and broken mirrors. “You were always so strong,” she added. “I never imagined that…” She paused again. “I didn’t realize…” She put her head in her hands. “God, Amy, what did I do to you?”

  “Jack got away with it,” said Amy, unwilling to talk about herself. “For all these years.” She paused. “And you just disappeared.”

  “Mum gave me enough money to tide me over,” said Chantel. “Everything she had. I was so careful. No credit cards, no mobile phones. Nothing that could be traced to me. It wasn’t that much to leave, not really. My life was a mess, you know that. I was leaving behind a dead-end job that I hated. An abusive relationship. Half a bag of weed hidden in my sock drawer and a pile of debt. You and my mum were the only good things I had left. I thought I was doing the right thing by you. Keeping you safe.”

  “Where did you go?” asked Amy, her voice a little softer.

  “Wales,” said Chantel. “It was a fresh start, a clean slate. I got a job in a local pub, cash in hand, which came with a room upstairs. The landlord was a widower, and ever so kind. Things started to look up.”

  Amy looked at her. She knew Chantel well.

  “Yes, we got together,” admitted Chantel. “We’ve got two kids. I told Rhys everything, of course. More or less.” She paused. “Can we have that wine?” asked Chantel. She was looking at Amy, and Amy realized Chantel didn’t just want wine.

  She wanted forgiveness.

  “No,” said Amy. “I don’t think so.” She paused, watching Chantel’s face.

  “I understand,” said Chantel. “Perhaps I had better leave now?”

  Amy hesitated. Part of her wanted to tell Chantel everything. That she’d been waiting for Tim all these years, a part of her always hoping he’d come back. She wanted to say that she didn’t think she could love again after the betrayal she’d felt. That she’d never been able to completely let go because she could never be certain what had happened. That instead she’d collected her treasures and cared for them. Because they made her feel almost happy at times and they could never leave her. Like Chantel had left her. And like Tim had too, albeit she now knew it was not of his own volition. Perhaps if she’d known the truth, she would have moved on, instead of being fossilized inside this house, surrounding herself with belongings that made her remember a past long gone.

  Chantel hadn’t fossilized. Chantel had known the truth. She’d started a family. Even had a house in Wales, like she said she always wanted.

  Amy was angry. Perhaps she always would be. But there was something else she felt too, her heart beating a little more fully, as if a vital component had been returned. Tim wasn’t the only person she’d desperately missed over the past eleven years.

  “Maybe you can have some wine,” she said. “Just a glass.”

  Chantel beamed at her, but Amy found she wasn’t ready to smile back. Instead she turned to the kitchen to fetch the wine. Chantel followed her.

  “I like what you’ve done with the place,” said Chantel, deadpan. It was so inappropriate for Chantel to criticize her and yet so intensely Chantel that Amy burst into something that was half a laugh, half a sob. “I don’t know why I said that,” said Chantel. “Sorry. There must be something wrong with me.”

  Amy poured the wine and handed a glass to Chantel. She refilled her own glass and took a nervous sip, wishing it were brandy.

  “You live here alone?” asked Chantel, eyeing the towers of mugs doubtfully. “You’ve never… met someone?”

  The doorbell rang before Amy could reply. “I can’t believe you’ve kept that awful bell,” said Chantel with an awkward laugh.

  “I kept what I could,” said Amy.

  Chantel went to hug Amy, but Amy backed away. “No,” she said. “I’ll get the door.”

  Amy walked into her hallway and tripped over an empty wine bottle. She went to pick it up. It was perfectly ordinary. Glass, bottle shaped. She held it to the light. A pleasant enough shade of green, but nothing special. She hesitated a second, then went back to the kitchen and put it next to the bin. She’d take it to the recycling center tomorrow. It and about a hundred others. And some newspapers. And maybe even some of the clocks that didn’t tick. It was just stuff, after all. Stuff that she didn’t need and that weighed her down. Stuff that she would need to get rid of to make room for other things in her life. No. Not other things.

  People.

  Amy released the catch to the door. She knew the truth. It wasn’t a happy ending, but at least it was an ending.

  It would be Richard, thought Amy, remembering again the feeling of his hand on her arm. She needed to talk to someone, someone who wasn’t Chantel. It was so much to take in.

  She swung the door open, but it wasn’t Richard she saw.

  It was DCI Jack Hooper.

  June 2008

  Amy decided that she was glad Tim hadn’t picked her up at the airport. Even as she heaved her heavy suitcase onto the train, she told herself it was a good thing. She’d be bound to blurt out her news, in front of the hubbub of people. It would be better to wait. Tonight, back home.

  Or maybe tomorrow. Amy was tired and sweaty and didn’t fancy a big conversation. She wanted a shower and then to curl up next to Tim on the sofa, feeling his warm body against hers. Then to go to sleep in bed next to him. She’d hardly slept since she’d found out, and had put it down to a mixture of excitement and hormones. And missing Tim. Being in bed and listening to his breathing was what she needed for proper sleep. Then tomorrow she’d make a special meal for dinner and tell him. Anything but pasta. That was the plan.

  It was perfect.

  The train ride seemed to take forever. She had to travel into the center of town and then catch her train out again. But finally, she arrived at her station. She’d told Tim which train she was on in the hope that he’d suggest coming to meet her at the station, but he had just replied with an X. The lift was broken, and Amy found herself lugging the suitcase up the endless flight of steps. She needed to get herself one of those little badges, she decided. BABY ON BOARD. Then someone would be bound to help her.

  She wondered how she went about getting one, and decided to ask the station attendant. It would be quite a sweet way to tell Tim even, she thought. Just to present him with a badge.

  “Congratulations, love,” said the man in the ticket office. “We’re all out. Apply online. Takes two to four weeks.”

  Never mind, thought Amy. It was a bit gimmicky anyway. She’d tell him properly. With words.

  * * *

  AMY JUMPED UP, wrapping her arms and legs around Tim when he opened the door. She buried her face in his neck and breathed in his smoky coconut scent and felt his warm body pressing against her.

  Against them both.

  “Easy, tiger,” said Tim, gently shaking her off him. “You’ll break my back.”

  “You think I’ve gained weight?” Usually Amy would be appalled at the suggestion, but she found herself excited. She was changing already. She half expected him to tell her she was glowing.

  “Of course not,” said Tim carefully. “I would never say that.”

  “What did you want to tell me?” asked Amy, releasing him and dragging her suitcase inside.

  “Not now,” said Tim. Amy frowned at him. He was being strange, but then again, she had a secret too. She probably seemed weird to him.

  “Do I look different?” she asked, unable to resist.

  “You look tanned,” he said.

  “I spent the whole time inside,” said Amy. “Painting.”

  “Not eating spaghetti off naked Itali
ans?”

  “Only penne,” replied Amy with a laugh.

  “Fancy a drink?” asked Tim. “I’m having one.”

  “No thanks,” said Amy. She paused. “I’m pretty tired tonight. But how about I cook us a nice dinner tomorrow?”

  “I can’t tomorrow,” said Tim. “I’m busy.”

  “What?” exclaimed Amy. “But I’ve just got back.”

  “And I’m here now,” he said, kissing the top of her head.

  “You didn’t even get me from the airport,” muttered Amy.

  “You told me not to!” Amy had, but that wasn’t the point.

  “Can’t you cancel your plans?” she wheedled.

  “You’ve been away six weeks, Amy, and you’re complaining because I’m out one night?”

  “Okay,” said Amy. “Fine.” She paused. “What are you doing, anyway?”

  “Simon wants to chat band stuff,” he said. “Think he’s hoping I might join them for a gig. But it will just be a quick drink; shouldn’t take long.”

  “I’m going for a shower,” said Amy, feeling dirty and tired from her journey.

  “Sorry, Amy,” said Tim, giving her a little kiss. “We’ll have that dinner on Friday. I’ll cook. There’s something important I want to talk to you about.”

  * * *

  AMY SETTLED DOWN for a brief rest on the bed after her shower and fell fast asleep. When she woke up the next morning, Tim had already gone to work. She spent the day unpacking and even had a little look in Chantel’s room. They could convert it into a nursery. Already Amy was imagining the glorious birds she’d paint on the walls. Maybe she’d create a real sky on the ceiling, complete with fluffy clouds and a bright rainbow that could extend to the walls.

  Amy waited and waited for Tim to come home, but he didn’t. That quick drink must have turned into a long drink, then another, and then God knows what else. Eventually she gave up on him and went to bed, curling up on her own until sleep overtook her. She woke up in the middle of the night, assuming it was Tim who had woken her, but no Tim appeared in the bedroom. She got up and checked the living room to see if he’d come home and fallen asleep on the sofa, but there was no sign. She went to the loo, already a more frequent occurrence, then went back to bed. She hoped he wouldn’t be hungover when she told him her news, but then he couldn’t be blamed for that. He had no idea what was coming his way.