by Emma Curtis
‘What can I do for you, Grace?’ His voice is suave, unflustered, reminding me of Douglas.
I have no preamble, no way of working up to what I need to say, so I dive right in.
‘Nick has worked for you for years. What were you thinking?’ To my horror, tears well in my eyes. I swipe them away. ‘Do you have no feelings? He’s missing; he could be hurt, or sick or worse. I’m going out of my mind with worry, and you send this. It’s a standard letter, for God’s sake.’ I fumble clumsily in my bag, pull out my phone, make sure the letter is on the screen and place it on the desk in front of him, push it closer with the tips of my fingers.
He runs his eye over its contents. ‘Take a seat.’
‘I don’t want to sit down. I want an apology and a retraction.’
‘Sit, Grace.’ His voice is kind, but firm. ‘Please,’ he adds.
I feel like a surly schoolgirl, but I do sit, perched on the edge of a leather chair. His manner is soothing, avuncular.
‘You came to our house,’ I say. ‘You came to see him. What was all that about if he means so little to you?’
‘I was genuinely concerned, and I was in the area.’
‘A bit of a coincidence, wasn’t it?’
‘Not really. We visit those friends regularly. Look, Grace, I am very sorry this has happened. And I wholeheartedly agree with you, the email is crass and insensitive. It should never have been sent.’
‘No, it shouldn’t.’
Despite myself, I am calmed. There is so much understanding in his voice that I’m lulled into thinking he’s about to metaphorically rip the letter up and retract.
‘But this isn’t a charity,’ he says. Disconcertingly, he’s still smiling. ‘And I can’t treat Nick differently from anyone else in my employ. It wouldn’t be ethical. He’s failed to let us know that he won’t be in. He’s missed crucial meetings and deadlines and in doing so has caused the firm, and me, embarrassment. I’m being generous in allowing him until the end of the month to give me a satisfactory explanation.’
‘How can he give you that if he’s in trouble?’
‘We don’t know that he is.’
‘You’ve had a visit from the police. That’s a big clue.’
He sighs and picks up his expensive-looking pen, then lays it down again. ‘Nick is probably having a midlife crisis. He’s gone off to find himself, revisit his youth. For all you know he’s sunning himself on a beach in Thailand. He won’t be the first man to do that. Maybe he wanted out of the relationship but was too much of a coward to tell you to your face. Surely you’ve considered that?’
I stare at him, outraged. ‘You couldn’t care less, could you?’
‘Of course I care,’ he says. ‘Please tell me what I can do to help you.’
‘Tell me what you and Nick rowed about that Friday.’
He looks surprised. ‘We might have disagreed. We do from time to time. I consider it part of running a healthy company.’
I shake my head. ‘No. Phillipa says you had a massive row.’ I feel a twinge of guilt, even as I say it. I shouldn’t have named her specifically.
He sighs. ‘We argued about an unhappy client. It happens. Water under the bridge. Obviously, I can’t go into details.’
‘Obviously.’ I cross my arms and hold his gaze, refusing to be the first to look away. ‘I’d like you to ask Phillipa to give me access to Nick’s emails and search history.’
He laughs out loud. ‘You can’t seriously believe I’d do that.’
‘I just want to see if there’s anything personal in there, anything that might help find him. Phillipa is welcome to see what I look at. You owe him.’
He raises one eyebrow. ‘That’s a strange logic. The police have already had a look. They didn’t find anything particularly helpful.’
He smooths his silver hair back, lifts his glasses and rubs his eye with his fist. The gesture makes him look younger, more approachable.
‘Nick loves this job and has great respect for you. He would never have done this voluntarily. Something has happened to him.’
He lifts an eyebrow. ‘Clearly.’
‘I know that you’ve known Nick since his teens. Why would you have kept that secret?’
He looks as though he truly pities me. ‘It’s no secret, unless Nick had some reason for not telling you. I’m surprised he hasn’t.’
So am I. I try something else. ‘Can you tell me anything about that holiday, when Nick’s family came to stay? I’ve talked about it with his parents, but they haven’t been able to tell me much. I know you were kind to him.’
He hesitates, then nods. ‘He was having a tough time. Particularly from the older girls. I felt sorry for him – I hadn’t forgotten what it was like to be an adolescent boy. It was three against one, poor kid. So I talked to him and encouraged him. It wasn’t a chore. I liked him.’
I throw down my final card. ‘And yet you still pulled the rug out from his father’s restaurant business.’
To my surprise he laughs. ‘Christ, not that again. Business is business. I would hardly be the CEO of my own hedge-fund company if I allowed sentiment to get in the way of decision-making.’
‘So you don’t care?’
His eyes pierce through me. ‘Not about that, no.’
I nod slowly. ‘And Izzy Wells’ death? You cared about that, I presume?’
His eyes turn to flint. I’ve gone too far. Of course he cares.
‘I apologize,’ I say quickly. ‘That was uncalled for.’
He waits before responding, then shrugs. His voice is curt, and I can feel the emotion reined in. ‘It’s the worst thing that’s ever happened to me. It changed everything; ruined lives.’
He clasps the back of his neck and rubs it. His body language has been so spare until now that the gesture is shocking. He’s been so careful not to give anything away. Maybe he’s human, after all.
‘What made you offer Nick a job?’
‘He got in touch about interning with us a couple of years later. I didn’t think I wanted any reminders, but in the end I agreed to see him, and I was glad I did. None of it was his fault, and he didn’t deserve to have what happened affect his future. After university he worked for HSBC, and after that I took him on.’
‘And now you’ve fired him.’
He sighs. ‘Grace, I’ll see what I can do. Of course, if he comes back before the end of the month, there won’t be a problem. Beyond that, well, let’s take one day at a time.’
‘I’ve got to go.’
He gets up, pulls his jacket off the back of his chair and puts it on. He holds the door open for me and I follow him in silence back along the corridor to the lift. To my surprise he gets in with me and sees me all the way to the ground floor. Maybe he doesn’t trust Phillipa.
‘I very much hope things turn out well,’ he says as he shows me out. ‘I’ve always been fond of him.’
TAISIE
July 2000
‘TAISIE.’
She stops in her tracks, her heart slamming.
‘What were you doing in Angus’s study? You know you’re not allowed in there.’
Her mother was at the bottom of the stairs.
‘I was hiding.’
She hoped to God Tim was listening and wouldn’t come strolling out. Her lips felt bruised and swollen, and if the light hadn’t been so bad in the hall she was certain her mother would have seen.
‘It’s out of bounds. You should know better.’
‘OK, fine. Can I go now?’
She had to get to Izzy. The poor thing would be drenched, waiting for Taisie to appear. As long as she hadn’t gone in already. Taisie was sure she had told her to wait until she heard her coming. She distinctly remembered saying that.
‘Actually, no. While you’re here. I need a quick word with you. In private.’
‘Oh, not now, Mum.’
‘Now,’ her mother said sharply. ‘Do as you’re told.’
She rolled her eyes, but she follo
wed her mother into the library. She wondered what was up. Mostly, her mother had no idea what was going on in Taisie’s head and tended to assume she was fine because she was the oldest. Taisie’s job was basically to set an example to her younger siblings and generally keep out of her mum’s hair. She was all lovey-dovey when it suited her, but it was so unnatural it was embarrassing.
‘Now don’t fly at me, Taisie.’ Her mother sat down on the sofa and patted the seat beside her. ‘But I need to talk to you about your behaviour.’
Taisie remained standing. She was tense and twitching to go. ‘My behaviour?’ She stressed the second word, putting a question mark at the end. Nick must have moaned about her. She never had him down as a snitch.
‘Your behaviour around Tim.’
Her stomach flipped. ‘I don’t …’
‘Taisie, please. You’re old enough to know precisely what you’re doing. Listen, darling, I remember what it’s like to be a teenage girl, to discover that you have sexual power, but you should tone it down. Considerably.’
Taisie drew in a sharp breath. ‘What are you talking about?’ Did her mum know where she had been?
Her mother smiled, giving her that look; the one that told Taisie she thought her eldest child was being deliberately obtuse. She probably did that with clients too, and colleagues. Bet she was popular at work.
‘You’ve been flirting with Tim and it’s beginning to embarrass us all. He’s behaving very well in the circumstances, but it’s obvious that it’s awkward for him. And think about how poor Nick must be feeling. He must be mortified.’
‘Oh my God.’ Taisie curled her lip. ‘Get off my case, Mum. Number one, I don’t care what Nick thinks, and number two, that’s gross. I’ve known Tim all my life.’
‘Taisie.’
‘I suppose I should be grateful,’ she hissed. ‘It makes a change from being totally ignored.’
‘Now you’re being ridiculous.’
‘Right. Yeah. Silly me.’
Her mother hesitated, as if weighing up whether there was any point in continuing the argument, then said, in her best this-is-over voice, ‘I’m glad we had this talk. So that’s all clear then.’
‘It’s clear that you’re jealous of me,’ Taisie muttered.
‘What did you say?’
‘Nothing. Is that it?’
Her mother paused for a heartbeat, then raised her hand and flicked her fingers at Taisie. ‘Yes. Off you go.’
God knows how many minutes had been wasted by her mother’s lecture. She started to run, splashing through puddles, slipping on wet grass, throwing herself through the gate into the woods and down the churned-up footpath. She ran until it felt as though her lungs would burst, until she developed a stitch like a burning knife in her side. She doubled over, gasping for air. When she had her breath back she yelled Izzy’s name and set off again, clutching her waist. Half a minute later, scratched and wet and muddy, she burst into the clearing and ran down to the river’s edge.
‘Iz? Izzy? Where are you?’
Taisie stood there, stumped. Izzy must be playing a trick on her, paying her back. There was no other explanation, no acceptable one anyway. She hadn’t gone into the river, she had doubled back and was warm and dry and safe in the house. She walked down to the river’s edge and stopped short.
Her sister’s shoes were placed neatly side by side. But there was no sign of Izzy. No sign at all.
GRACE
Monday, 23 April 2018
WHEN LOTTIE AND I COME IN, HAVING DROPPED OFF Hannah, Leila and Kai at their respective houses, Cora is reading a book in the garden wrapped up in Nick’s sweater, the one I like to wear, a soft tartan rug over her lap. Tim is on his knees beside the flower bed pulling up a new crop of weeds, Toffee beside him sniffing around, a robin looking down at them from the trellis. It would be an idyllic scene if it wasn’t my garden and my rug and my dog. The house feels like a country under occupation.
‘Have you had a productive day?’ Cora asks, putting the magazine down. ‘It’s been lovely and quiet here.’
‘I’ve done everything I needed to.’
Do I tell her about the email and my meeting with Angus? I think I ought to, but I can’t bear the idea that she’ll think her son wasn’t valued. She’s so proud of him. I can’t do that to her, not when I’m about to ask her to leave.
‘Cora.’ I take a deep breath. ‘I’m sorry, but this isn’t working for me.’ I wince inwardly, anticipating the fallout. It’s the right thing for me and Lottie. This weekend proved it. I felt unwelcome in my own home.
‘What do you mean?’
I sit down on one of the wooden chairs and lean forward. ‘You and Tim being here,’ I say as gently as I can. ‘I know how you’re feeling, and that you’re as worried as I am, but this is my home, and I’m feeling invaded. Things are difficult enough without having to worry about guests.’
‘You surely don’t see us as guests,’ Tim says, his knees clicking as he stands up. He brushes dirt off his hands. ‘We’re family and we want to help.’
‘I know you do, but I’m all right. Honestly.’ I have coped in the past, I can cope now.
‘Be that as it may,’ Cora says, looking at me as though I’m a sulky teenager. ‘Our house is unavailable, and I hardly think Nick would want his parents out on the streets.’
‘Surely you can afford somewhere to stay. Airbnb?’
‘I must say, I think you’re being very unkind,’ Cora says. ‘You’re not the only one going out of your mind with worry.’
‘Please.’ Even though I know it’s futile I have to try and get through to them. ‘I want to be on my own. Can’t you understand that?’
‘Oh, Grace,’ Tim says. ‘Don’t shut yourself away.’
‘I’m not shutting myself away, I just can’t cope with having other people around.’
‘We’re hardly other people,’ Cora sniffs. ‘We are Nick’s parents. We have a right to be here. If he’s—’
‘Cora,’ Tim says. ‘That’s enough.’ There’s a warning in his voice that makes my nerves stand on end.
‘If he’s what?’ I say. ‘Dead? Well, he’s not. All I’m asking is that you be a little more understanding of how I’m feeling.’
Cora contemplates me. ‘This is not about you, Grace. It’s about Nick.’
I speak carefully, trying to avoid outright antagonism at the same time as making myself perfectly clear. ‘I understand that, and of course I respect your right to know what’s going on. But I can call you if there’s a development and you can come straight back.’
She sighs deeply, shaking her head, as if I’m a child who doesn’t get it. ‘I feel closer to him here.’ A tear slides from her eye but she doesn’t seem to notice it.
‘Wouldn’t you want to stay if it was Lottie?’ Tim says.
‘Why do you have to make it so hard for me?’
‘In what way are we making it hard?’ Cora demands. ‘We’re here if Lottie needs to be looked after. We help with the housework and we’re happy to chip in for bills if you’re having problems.’
‘I’m not.’ Not yet, at least. I have a nasty feeling I will if Nick doesn’t come home before Angus’s deadline. Not that these two would be much help. The idea of them ‘chipping in’ is laughable. If I could, I’d cancel that Direct Debit. ‘I can’t relax.’
‘Oh well, if it’s a question of relaxing …’
‘I didn’t mean that. I’m not going to put my feet up the moment you’ve gone, but you’re making me tense. I don’t want you tidying up after me and sitting in judgement while I try and get on with my life. This is my house.’
‘We understand,’ Tim says, glancing at Cora to check she’s in agreement. ‘And we promise we won’t interfere any more. We’ll try to stay out from under your feet, but please let us help.’
‘We’re family,’ Cora adds. ‘We should stick together.’
‘Are you including me in that?’ I ask.
She doesn’t dignify the quest
ion with a response.
I go indoors, stomp upstairs and lie down on our bed. I haven’t been able to change the bedclothes since Nick went, and I pull his pillow on to my chest and hug it. Tears trickle down my cheeks, tickling my ears, drying on my neck. I wipe them away and turn on to my side, cradling the pillow and smothering my sobs.
There’s a knock on the door. Tim comes in and the mattress dips as he sits down beside me. He puts his hand on my shoulder. I push the pillow away and sit up, shuffling up to the headboard and wrapping my arms around my knees.
‘Grace, my dear.’
I turn my head and contemplate his handsome face. Nick looks like him, but his bone structure is softer, less pronounced, his eyes and mouth more like Cora’s. I remember what Alex said about all the girls having crushes on Tim that summer. It’s not unusual for teenage girls to be infatuated with men in positions of authority, but Tim isn’t a danger to Lottie. I’d know. For one thing, my daughter isn’t scared of speaking out when something’s bothering her. Douglas is stirring where there’s nothing to stir.
Tim sighs and smiles. ‘If you’re going to keep things on an even keel, you need backup.’
‘But not the sort Cora provides. That’s more like a stab in the back.’
‘I’ll keep her in order.’
‘Tim, look. Don’t get me wrong, I’m fond of you, you’re Nick’s dad and you’ve always been kind to me, but Cora …’ I curl my hands into fists. ‘It’s not very comfortable having someone in the house who openly dislikes me.’
‘She doesn’t dislike you. She’s just not a woman’s woman. And she’s desperately anxious.’
We sit in silence, both of us looking at our hands.
‘We’re all hurting,’ Tim says eventually. ‘We’re all a little lost without Nick. Let’s calm down and take things one day at a time. For all we know, Nick might walk back in here tomorrow.’
I sniff back my tears. ‘He’ll get a rollicking if he does.’
‘That’s my girl. So we’re all good?’
I nod, defeated.
After he’s gone I throw myself back on the bed with a sigh of frustration. My phone rings. I reach for it, automatically checking the caller display for Nick’s name. It’s Marsh.
