by Emma Curtis
‘No way,’ Evan said. ‘He’s a good mate. Don’t worry, Grace. I’ll bet, once you scratch beneath the surface, you’ll find Anna’s at the bottom of this. There’s something not right about her.’
Cassie laughed. ‘Didn’t stop you flirting with her at the Filbys’ drinks.’
‘What do you mean?’ His face was all innocence. ‘We were discussing Brexit.’
‘You were putty in her hands.’
I watched their to-and-froing with amusement, then interrupted, addressing Evan, ‘Is she really attractive?’
He stretched a kink in his neck. ‘Well, you know.’
‘No, I don’t know. On a scale of one to ten, where would you put her?’
He widened his eyes. ‘You’re asking me to tell you that in front of the wife?’
‘Don’t mind me,’ Cassie said. ‘Go right ahead. I’m interested.’
‘She’s striking,’ Evan said. He rubbed his jaw, looking from me to Cassie. ‘Oh, for Christ’s sake. Right, you asked for it. Anna is a nine.’
‘Wow,’ Cassie said. ‘What does that make me?’
‘I knew you would take it like that.’ He sighed and stretched across the table to take her hand. ‘You are gorgeous, darling. Anna is a nine, but she’s trouble, so she scares men off.’
‘Digging yourself even deeper, dear,’ Cassie said.
I remember Evan’s words as I make breakfast for Lottie. Anna scares men. Why? What is it about her that provokes that reaction? I wish I had questioned him more closely, but I thought it best to change the subject. What I think is that it’s the conflict between the predator in Anna and the needy, vulnerable woman that creates the problematic vibe.
Trouble.
I spend the Monday morning taking an inventory in a swanky apartment round the corner from Harrods, and I’m home and about to turn into my driveway when I stop myself in time. There’s a car parked across the entrance to the forecourt, blocking Nick’s car in. I stare at it, infuriated. It doesn’t belong to Marsh, and it doesn’t look like an unmarked police car. Perhaps Cora’s invited a friend over. I get off my bike and manoeuvre it through the gap.
I let myself into the house quietly, expecting whoever it is to be in the kitchen. But they’re not. I can hear Cora’s voice coming from upstairs. She’s using the tone she used with Douglas that day she first met him: earnest, interested, verging on flirtatious. There’s no welcome from Toffee, and his lead is not on its hook, so I deduce that Tim has made himself scarce. I slip off my leather jacket, unzip and tug off my boots, then follow the voices up to my bedroom.
A man is opening and closing the wardrobe doors, peering in and casually flicking through my clothes. He and Cora sense my presence at the same time. There’s a long, uncomfortable silence before Cora bustles forward.
‘Grace. I wasn’t expecting you back so soon.’
‘What’s going on?’
Her companion extends a hand. ‘George Bonner. From Bonner and Brightman. I was just admiring the quality of the carpentry. You have a beautiful house.’
I stare him out. ‘Why are you here?’
‘I’m—’
‘I asked George to do a valuation,’ Cora interrupts, stepping forward, as if to protect him from the volcano bubbling up inside me. ‘I thought in the circumstances it would be a good idea to find out where we stood.’
I turn back to George. ‘I’d like you to leave.’
He doesn’t move, startled into catatonia.
‘Now.’
My voice is sharp enough to knock some sense into him. Cora and I listen to his footsteps, and the shamefaced click of the front door.
‘Explain,’ I say. ‘Tell me why you’ve invited an estate agent into my home behind my back. I’m interested.’
She draws a breath. ‘Someone has to be practical if—’
I clench my teeth. ‘Don’t say it.’
‘I have to, Grace. If the worst turns out to be true, can you afford the mortgage on this place?’
‘That’s my business.’
‘Face it,’ Cora says. ‘You can’t. You have a job that pays for your little luxuries, but without Nick’s income, you’d be in trouble.’
‘I wouldn’t be the only one, would I?’
‘I was only trying to help,’ she sniffs. ‘I’ve got some shopping to do. I’ll get out of your hair.’
‘That would be nice.’
‘Why are you so hostile?’
‘Me? You’re the one who’s here uninvited. You’re the one creating a horrible atmosphere.’
Her expression is sour. ‘You are not married to my son and he isn’t the father of your child. In his absence Tim and I have as much right to be here as you, if not more. We’re not going anywhere, so you might as well get used to it.’
‘You’ve got to be ready,’ Douglas says. ‘If Cora is getting a valuation, it means they’re going to make a claim.’
Douglas arrived at two o’clock, fresh from a meeting in town, in a suit and tie. He looks good; elegant and authoritative. I asked him over so that I could discuss Cora’s latest outrage with someone who understands the law.
‘She wouldn’t dare.’
‘For God’s sake. What do you think this is about? Stop blinding yourself to the truth. You have zero rights in the event of Nick’s death. The only thing you can do, if it comes to that, is make a claim on his estate. You have to establish your right to be here. This is nuts. You could lose everything if you’re not careful.’
‘He’s not dead.’
‘And you have your head in the fucking sand.’
‘I don’t want to talk about it.’
He throws up his hands. ‘What am I here for, then?’
That’s a fair point. I stare into my cooling mug of tea, wishing it was a glass of wine. ‘Sorry.’
He lets out his breath. His tone becomes gentle. ‘You cannot afford to react to the Ritchies by getting hysterical. You need to keep your cool. There’s a lot at stake here. This place must be worth two million at least. If it does turn out that Nick is dead …’
I scowl, but this time I don’t interrupt.
‘You’ll have a battle on your hands, but your relationship and circumstances will be taken into account and you will probably come away with something. If Nick isn’t found, this could drag on for years, but you won’t need to leave the property, not until he has a Declaration of Presumed Death. Those two will fight you for everything, they’ll make your life uncomfortable, but you mustn’t give up, for Lottie’s sake.’
‘But this house won’t be mine, whatever happens?’
I look around and he follows my gaze. This big, light room was my fantasy. I designed it. The floor is stone, the work surfaces glittering granite, the cupboard doors a relaxing shade of grey. The downlights are industrial pewter, sourced from LASSCO in Vauxhall, the stainless-steel fridge-freezer was shipped over from America. My God, the money we spent. And I could lose the lot to Nick’s parents.
‘Not legally, no,’ Douglas says. ‘That’s why you have to be clever. I’ll help you. I’ll make sure you’re treated fairly.’
This has got to be my darkest moment: when Nick’s absence boils down to nothing more than money; to house prices; to net worth. To a grubby battle over his assets. It makes me feel sick, but so does losing, so does seeing my daughter going without. I glance at Douglas’s face. Not long ago he was talking about leverage. What is he prepared to say to get that? What part will I have to play? It doesn’t bear thinking about. On the other hand, what Tim did to Anna was appalling, and if it comes to it, I’d rather use that than involve Lottie.
He sees me looking at him and smiles faintly.
‘Douglas.’ Do I really want to say this? ‘Tim seduced a girl when she was fifteen. That’s rape, isn’t it? Neither of them would want that coming out.’
‘What? Who?’ he asks.
‘The daughter of a family friend.’ Best not to name Anna yet. Approached carefully, she might be willing to make a compl
aint of historical rape, but I don’t want her scared off by Douglas. ‘Don’t say anything, all right?’
Before he can respond, the front door opens and Toffee’s lead jangles as it’s unclipped, keys are dropped on to the dish.
‘Oh great,’ I say. ‘That’s all I need.’
‘Grace,’ Tim calls. ‘You in?’
‘In here,’ I shout back. ‘You’d better go,’ I tell Douglas.
‘I’ll stick around. I’d like to see Lottie.’
‘No. Just go. You’ll see her at the weekend.’
‘No?’ He looks down at me, his lip curled. ‘You don’t get to tell me what to do. Back off, Grace.’
I recoil. I hate it when he’s in this mood; sneering and cruel.
He plasters an insincere smile on his face and looks past me. ‘Cora.’
I didn’t know she was there. She’s wearing a tailored wool coat that looks expensive. I’ve never considered or felt irked by the amount Cora spends on her clothes, but in the last few days I’ve become hyper aware of expenditure, and it annoys me even though it isn’t a new purchase. Nick pays for his mother’s extravagance.
‘What’s he doing here?’ she says.
Gone are the flirtatious smiles; her eyes are like flint. Her son is missing, and I’m home alone with his rival. She doesn’t like it one little bit.
‘I invited him in. Cora, honestly, you have to stop this. I’m not being disloyal to Nick. And anyway, how I live my life is really none of your business.’
‘I only hope you know what you’re doing.’ Cora turns on her heel and stalks out of the room.
‘Oh dear,’ I say.
‘She’ll get over it.’
Tim is the closest to the door when Lottie bangs the knocker. He sweeps her into his arms and swings her round, even though she’s getting too big for such treatment, and frankly our hall isn’t wide enough to accommodate her gangly legs any more. She adores the attention but for the first time I feel a twinge of unease. I have to stop myself from ordering him to put her down. There is nothing wrong with their relationship. What happened with Anna was different. If he had malicious intentions, I would have felt it.
The furrows between Douglas’s brows deepen. I wish I hadn’t told him now. I can feel his resentment building. I know him well enough to understand something of what he’s feeling. He puts up with enough from Nick, but this other man’s familiarity with his daughter is rubbing his nose in it, and now he knows what Tim did, he can’t bear it.
My ex’s mood isn’t without justification; Tim is deliberately baiting him. The atmosphere is thick with testosterone and suppressed anger, but Tim ignores the signs, treating Douglas like a rival for Lottie’s affections, punishing him for provoking Cora. What angers me is that Lottie is being used as a pawn. I’m about to intervene, but Douglas gets there first, snapping abruptly, his voice like the crack of a whip,
‘Lottie. Go up to your room.’
Lottie glances at me. ‘What’s happening, Mum?’
‘Nothing.’ I glare at Douglas. ‘Sweetie, go upstairs, just for ten minutes. Dad and I need to have a private chat with your grandparents.’
‘We’re not …’ Cora starts, but Tim shushes her.
Lottie makes a face. I raise my eyebrows, forcing a smile. She wrinkles her nose and slouches out of the room with a teenage pout.
‘You shouldn’t have spoken to her like that,’ I say. ‘None of this is her fault.’
‘You should go, Douglas,’ Cora says. ‘You’re making everyone uncomfortable.’
When Douglas speaks his voice is dangerously soft. ‘I’m so sorry if my presence is upsetting, but I’m protecting the most important person in my life. I need to know that my daughter is safe in this house.’
‘Oh for goodness’ sake,’ Cora snaps. ‘Of course she is. What on earth do you think is going to happen to her?’
He ignores the question and turns his attention to Tim. ‘I’ve been having a look at you. You have quite a history, don’t you? Bankruptcy, screwing your friends out of their savings. And the rest.’
Tim’s jaw tightens. ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’
Even I’m shocked. How the hell does Douglas know this? I didn’t tell him. He works in tech security, so I presume he has ways and means; it’s the only thing that makes sense.
Douglas says something under his breath. The effect is immediate. Tim pales.
‘You arrogant sod.’
Douglas grabs him by his shirt and propels him back on to his chair. He leans over, and I see spittle on Tim’s face as Douglas hisses, ‘Am I making myself clear?’
‘Get off him,’ Cora shrieks. ‘You leave him alone.’
‘Douglas.’ I try to pull him away, but his sinews are like iron rope. ‘Stop it, for Christ’s sake.’
Douglas lets go, turning away and brushing his hands against his black jeans, as if to remove something unpleasant.
‘It’s nice when your ex-lovers rally round, isn’t it?’ Cora says sarcastically. ‘I’m sure my son would be grateful.’
I glare at her. ‘I’ve put up with your snide comments for long enough. The only reason you’re worried is because of Nick’s money. You’ve been sponging off him. You got our house valued.’ Years of pent-up resentment come gushing out. ‘You’re a vulture.’
‘I despise you,’ Cora says. ‘I’ve despised you since the first time I saw you.’
I look her up and down. ‘The feeling is mutual.’
Tim turns with a groan. ‘Cora, I think we should leave.’
‘Stop being so weak and back me up,’ Cora snaps.
Douglas catches my eye and I scowl, but he smiles. He likes what’s happening, gets a kick at seeing those two at each other’s throats. He picks up his keys and strolls out of the room.
‘What did you say to him?’ I ask at the door.
‘Shh,’ he says.
‘No, I will not ‘shh’. Tell me.’
‘I hinted that I knew what he was.’
‘Douglas. I told you not to say anything.’
‘He was manhandling my daughter. What did you expect me to do?’
Once he’s gone, I come back into the room to find Cora sobbing – an ugly, grating noise. Tim has his arms around her and is talking to her gently. I don’t know why the sight of Tim demonstrating love to Cora should be such a shock, but it is. I rebuke myself; just because I don’t love her, doesn’t mean no one else can.
‘I’m so sorry about that,’ I say.
‘I don’t think it was a personal best for any of us,’ Tim responds with a smile. ‘Why don’t you go and check Lottie’s OK?’
I grimace. ‘I hope she didn’t hear.’
Toffee follows me upstairs and sits obediently outside her bedroom door while I wait for an answer to my knock. There is none. I call her name, and then knock a second time and tell myself that she has her earphones in. I feel a deep sense of unease as I open the door. Her bed is rumpled, but empty. I try her bathroom, but she’s not there either. I lean over the banister and shout her name. No response. I run downstairs and burst into the kitchen.
‘I can’t find Lottie.’
GRACE
Monday, 30 April 2018
‘SHE MUST HAVE HEARD US,’ I SAY, SHAKING AS I OPEN my car. I get hold of Douglas. He isn’t at the station yet and says he’ll do a circuit of the streets.
I ask my mobile to call Cassie as I pull out. A horn blares and I brake hard and jolt forward. I sit, gripping the steering wheel tightly. That was close. Cassie answers and I explain briefly, my voice cracking.
‘We’re not at home,’ she says. ‘Hannah? Have you had any messages from Lottie?’
‘No,’ I hear Hannah reply.
I call Mara, and while she runs upstairs to ask Leila, I turn on to the parade and pull into a parking spot.
‘She doesn’t know anything about it, I’m afraid,’ Mara says. ‘Try the others. And call me if you hear anything, I’ll be worrying.’
I p
ut my head in my hands, then someone bangs on the window. It’s a mother from the school.
‘Grace, are you all right?’ she asks.
‘I’m fine. A headache, that’s all. You haven’t seen any kids on the street, have you? Only Lottie is out with her friends, and I need to get her back in for her tea.’
She gives me a disapproving look. ‘No, I haven’t seen them. But if I do, I’ll tell them to go straight home.’
‘Thanks.’
She now thinks I’m an appalling mother. She doesn’t know what being neglected and left to roam actually means. It’s not our carefully brought-up girls, playing out with their friends in a place where they know practically everyone, it’s a tired and hungry child kicking her heels on dirty, litter-strewn streets because she can’t get into her flat and has no idea where her mother is or what time she’ll be back. I feel tears welling up and hurriedly wipe them away, then start the car. I’m sure Lottie is fine, just lying low, making a point. She’s a sensible girl. But that woman’s disapproval is infectious, and panic begins to creep in, an insidious tide.
There isn’t a paedophile behind every tree, I tell myself. Keep things in perspective. And yet the look on that woman’s face, and the judgement implied, has spooked me.
Douglas calls to tell me that he hasn’t found her and he’s going to call the police. I want to be sick. The next time my phone rings it’s Anna.
‘Grace? Is everything OK? Lottie’s come over. I didn’t forget a playdate, did I?’
‘What!’ I hit the brake and earn my second angry blast. I hold my hand up to apologize. ‘No. She ran out of the house. I’ve been looking for her.’
‘I had no idea she was here until two minutes ago. Kai must have sneaked her in while I was on the phone.’
‘Oh God. Thank you. Thank you so much. I’ll come straight over.’
‘You’re shaking. Sit down and I’ll make you a cup of tea. Don’t be cross with Lottie.’
The remark jars. It’s none of her business, and I haven’t settled within myself how to react. Obviously, I don’t want to overdo it, but neither do I want to pretend it didn’t happen, that I wasn’t frightened. Lottie knows the effect it would have had on me, or she wouldn’t have come here. It’s the last place I’d have looked. That was an act designed to cause maximum distress, without being overtly bad. Shades of her father, I think with a wry grimace.
