by Emma Curtis
‘She’ll be cross if she finds you up,’ I say urgently. ‘And I’ll get into trouble.’ He looks at me and I can feel him wavering. He’s utterly exhausted, poor child. ‘Shut your eyes and count backwards from a hundred.’ It sometimes works with Lottie.
I close his door behind me and run downstairs, ready with my excuse for being here, my unjudgemental smile firmly in place, but it isn’t Anna standing on her doorstep, looking sheepish. It’s Detective Inspector Marsh. If he’s surprised to find me here, he doesn’t show it. I look behind him, but I only see his car, double-parked. No Anna getting out of it.
‘I’ve just been on the phone to the police,’ I say. ‘Has something happened to Anna?’
He follows me into the kitchen, and I shut the door so that Kai can’t hear. I fill the kettle, but he doesn’t want anything. I want to do something with my hands, but I don’t want to appear nervous, so I lean against the counter and hook my thumbs into my jeans pockets.
‘Why are you here, Ms Trelawney?’ he asks.
‘Her son called me. He was worried because she hasn’t come home.’
‘Why didn’t you alert the police immediately?’
I frown. His question feels like an accusation. ‘I assumed she would be back. I didn’t want to get her into trouble for leaving Kai on his own if she was going to reappear at any moment.’
‘What time did he call you?’
‘Around one o’clock.’
‘So you waited for, what, two hours?’
‘I didn’t want to turn this into something it wasn’t.’
He peers through the glass screen door into the small garden. ‘Where did she tell Kai she was going?’
‘She didn’t. He got up in the night to go to the loo and noticed that she wasn’t in bed. That’s when he called me.’
I’m starting to tremble inside. Of course I should have called. What stopped me? Was it because I’m suspicious of Anna and wanted to spend some time snooping round her house? I glance at Marsh’s face, but it’s impossible to read. He looks tired too.
‘You didn’t think it was odd?’ he says. ‘After going through the same thing yourself so recently?’
‘I didn’t relate the two events. I don’t know why not. I assumed Anna had told him a white lie; that she was meeting someone – a date. She does use online dating sites.’
‘Is she the type to go out without arranging childcare?’
‘I don’t know. I haven’t known her very long. Will you please tell me what’s going on?’
He picks up a sheaf of papers from the table and looks through them. It’s mostly stuff from school: newsletters, sports slips for her to sign. He puts it down.
‘When did you last see Anna Foreman?’
I try and remember but my brain is all over the place. Since Nick left, time has stretched, occasionally snapping back and catapulting me forward, but mostly the days have felt like weeks.
‘I think it was last Monday. Yes, it was. Definitely last Monday.’ That was the afternoon Lottie sneaked out and came round here. ‘Shouldn’t you be looking for her?’
‘We don’t need to.’ He traps me in his gaze. ‘There’s been an incident.’
NICK
Thursday, 12 April 2018 Three Weeks Earlier
NICK TAKES OFF HIS SUIT JACKET AND ARRANGES IT carefully over the back of a chair, twitching the corners into place. He loosens his tie and undoes the top button of his shirt. It’s good to be home, to breathe the same air as Grace and Lottie, to feel the warmth of their welcome after a long day, his mind dizzy with figures and conference calls, meetings and briefings. Even after the walk from the station he can feel the tension. But he can’t keep blaming the work itself. It’s more than that; something more insidious, potentially more damaging.
He’s beginning to think, rather late in the day, that the world he’s chosen isn’t for him. It’s not the stress – he’s never minded that – it’s the growing realization that he doesn’t want to be like the people at the top of the business. In particular, he doesn’t want to be like Angus. This is a conversation he will need to have with Grace. Not yet, but soon.
‘God damn it. We’re out of milk,’ Grace says. She closes the fridge door and looks around for her keys.
‘Don’t worry, I’ll go,’ he says.
Grace protests that he’s only just got in, but a walk across the Common with the dog is exactly what he needs. He’ll be less of a bear when he gets back. Toffee leaps up, tail wagging as he trots into the hall, beating him to the coat hooks, where he sits, eyes glued to his lead, tail thumping.
As Nick leaves, a picture lingers in his head: Grace with a loose strand of hair falling across her cheek. She curls it behind her ear. He strolls along their street, enjoying the sinking sun and the pink cherry blossom, then turns left in the direction of the shops. It’s only a ten-minute walk, but he gives in to temptation and the balmy spring evening to cross over on to the Common and allow Toffee a run. The little dog is delightfully grateful, springing up and resting his paws on Nick’s knees, and licking his hand.
He passes a man with his son, on their way back from a school event, the boy in the uniform of the local secondary. He is looking up at his father, describing something, his eyes aglow, his hands animated. It makes Nick think of his relationship with his own father. He knew from a young age, possibly as early as his mid-teens, that he couldn’t and shouldn’t trust him, that as a role model he lacked the necessary qualities. He remembers being glad his parents didn’t have more children, because he would have felt responsible for their happiness.
On the other hand, had there been siblings, his parents’ focus wouldn’t have been entirely on him, especially now that they were getting older. They live on the edge of their overdraft limit, with several over-burdened credit cards between them. Every month, he hands over a chunk of money. He could be petty and cut them off, but he’s determined to be a good son, to be the bigger person. He is exasperated by them, but he loves them too. What makes him cross is the way his mother constantly undermines Grace. What hurts Grace, hurts him. If only they would treat her with more respect.
They do a quick circuit, nodding at canine acquaintances and their owners, then cross back over, and that’s when he sees her: a woman coming towards him, a look of intent in her eyes. He glances round to see if there’s someone else, a friend perhaps lurking behind him, but there’s no one there, so he smiles and waits.
‘Nick,’ she says. ‘I thought it was you.’
Toffee strains at his lead, gives a friendly bark and lets her pat him. Nick frowns, puzzled. It doesn’t take long to work out that he knows her, especially when she straightens up and runs her fingers through her hair, the gesture so familiar, it wakes a dormant horror. His heart slams against his chest.
‘Taisie,’ he says.
‘Anna. I call myself Anna now.’
‘Oh. Right.’ The happiness and sense of contentment he had been feeling has vaporized, replaced by the chill of despair. ‘What are you doing here?’
She smiles, despite his lack of civility. ‘I live here. But only since January. My son’s in the same class as Lottie. I know Grace.’
Her voice is friendly, like she’s just one of the other mums Grace talks to; perky and bright. He looks into her eyes, tries to see beyond them, but they give nothing away.
‘She might have mentioned you,’ he murmurs, checking his watch to give the impression he has somewhere to be. ‘But I wouldn’t have put two and two together.’
‘No, of course not. That’s why, when I spotted you, I thought I’d say hello. But don’t worry,’ she laughs. ‘I’m not going to tell her your secrets.’
There it is, then. His stomach clenches. She’s here for a reason. She may even have lain in wait, or spotted him and followed him, taking her chance while there was no one else to witness their encounter. How many years has it been? Nearly eighteen. Over half his life.
He swallows hard. ‘What secrets?’
�
��Oh come on, Nick. You know what I’m talking about.’
He pulls himself together. She’s caught him on the back foot, and he needs to regain control. ‘Actually, I don’t. Perhaps you’d better spell it out for me.’
‘If that’s what you want. Once upon a time there was a girl. Let’s call her Isabel. She was a sweet child, but fragile. One day, she found herself shut in a cupboard with a boy she trusted, an older boy.’
He laughs. ‘Not that again. We were kids. We were playing Sardines. It was nothing. I wouldn’t have told you if there had been anything wrong with it.’
‘You told me yourself that you kissed her.’
‘That’s not true, Taisie. What I said was that she was kissing me when I woke up.’
‘She also said you groped her breast. Why would she lie?’
Why would Izzy have said that? He can’t believe it. Taisie was the manipulative one, not her little sister. Izzy was always so honest. ‘I don’t understand. When did she tell you that?’
She shrugs. ‘Right afterwards. She was as white as a sheet.’
He stares at her, bewildered. ‘You spoke to her? You never told me; you never told anyone.’
‘I was protecting you.’
She put her hand on his arm and he recoiled. ‘Protecting me? Why the hell would you do that? You hated me.’
‘I didn’t hate you. I was hurting, but you were still my friend. It was chaos. Don’t you remember? I wasn’t thinking straight.’
He backs away from her, his mind churning, trying to make sense of this new information. ‘If you thought I’d had anything to do with Izzy’s death, you would have told your parents, or the police.’
‘I was messed up. And the Ritchies and the Wellses, we were like family, weren’t we? I’d have been pulling down the whole edifice of my childhood, and I didn’t have the courage. It was too late anyway.’
‘Why didn’t you try to stop her?’
‘I couldn’t. I got distracted by one of the others; and how was I supposed to know she’d go outside? It was pouring with rain.’
His eyes bore straight into hers. ‘Which others?’
‘Pansy or Freya; I don’t remember which now. But they caught me. I tried to tell them I wasn’t playing any more but they wouldn’t let go of me.’
‘OK. Stop. I’m not listening to this crap.’ He tugs on Toffee’s lead. ‘I’m going.’
‘I’m not finished.’
‘Well, I am.’
She sighs. ‘Then I’ll just have to offload my traumatic memories on someone else. I’m sure Grace would love to know more about your past.’
‘Leave her out of this.’
‘I can’t, can I? She has a young daughter.’
His eyes bulge; he thinks he’s about to have a stroke. He realizes he’s stopped breathing and drags oxygen into his strained lungs. ‘Taisie, you know me. You know I wouldn’t do a thing like that. I told you the truth. I had a nightmare, I thought I was being attacked and I lashed out. I scared her, and she ran away. If she deliberately went into the river, then it wasn’t because of something I did. And if you think that I could molest a child, then all I can say is you have a warped mind.’
Toffee whines and circles, getting tangled in his lead. Nick sorts him out, using the time to gather his thoughts. When he unbends, she is still looking at him, a small smile on that near-perfect face. What else did she see? Did she see him run after Izzy? Did she see him cross the lawn to the woods? Did she see him come back alone?
‘Why would you do this?’ he asks.
‘Because your family took everything from me.’
‘Oh Christ,’ he says. ‘It was a bad business deal. It happens.’
‘Oh right. Great. A bad business deal,’ she mimics. ‘Get over it, Anna. Wow. You arrogant prick.’
‘I’m not arrogant, I’m practical. I apologize for the way my father behaved, and I’m sorry that Sean trusted him. Angus warned him not to and he …’ He hesitates. ‘Well, I know that it devastated you. That you lost so much.’
‘You have no idea what I lost.’ Her face reddens. ‘You have not got a fucking clue what your father did to me. What he took from me.’
Nick rubs his head with the tips of his fingers. This is something he wasn’t aware of. Should he have been? Perhaps she doesn’t mean what he thinks she means. He sincerely hopes so.
‘You’ve lost me now. What did Dad take from you?’
Her mouth is pinched, her whole body language folded in and withdrawn.
‘Everything.’
He sighs and holds out his hand, trying to placate her, to make her feel that old connection, but she shrinks away from him. He has a sudden vision of his father, rising godlike from the river, water running down his torso in rivulets; three teenage girls cavorting round him, vying for his attention. He looks closer at Anna, right into her eyes, and sees the hurt in there, the broken girl.
‘My father seduced you.’ It isn’t a question. His heart sinks. ‘You have every right to be angry with him, even with my family,’ he says. ‘But don’t destroy me because of who I am.’
The tears have gone, and she’s looking at him as though he’s something she found under a rock.
‘Tim wrecked everything for me, so I want compensation. I know Tim can’t afford it, but you can.’
‘For Christ’s sake. I’ve done nothing wrong.’
She cocks her head to one side and smiles. ‘Nick,’ she says with mock sympathy, ‘I only have to tell the police what Izzy told me.’
‘No one will believe you.’
‘It doesn’t matter if they do or not, does it? You’ll still lose everything. You and your father are going to pay for what you did to my family.’
He was already paying, wasn’t he? The guilt eating away at him. Spoiling his life. ‘You’re deluded. It’s blackmail.’
‘No, Nick. It’s revenge. But go to the police if you like; draw attention to yourself. How would you like to be told you’re not allowed in the room with Lottie without another adult present? How would you like Grace to start wondering if her daughter is safe with you? No smoke without a fire. What about Lottie’s real dad? I don’t suppose he’d be too happy.’
He’s appalled by the picture she paints, and for the first time he feels real fear. What she’s suggesting is outrageous, but entirely possible in these suspicious times. Toffee tugs on his lead.
‘What is it you want?’
‘Twenty thousand pounds immediately, and a standing order of a thousand pounds a month paid into my bank account.’
He listens to all this with his mouth gaping. ‘I don’t know how you can live with yourself, Taisie.’
‘Anna. And I could say the same for you.’ She stalks off.
When she’s gone, he breathes out and walks in the opposite direction fast. Then he remembers the milk and hurries back for it, scooping the dog into his arms instead of tying him up because Toffee is trembling, alarmed by his master’s anxiety, his rescue-dog insecurities resurfacing.
It’s dark now, and cold. He wants Grace; he wants her so badly his throat aches. It’s not the money, although frankly he has more than enough strains on his wallet, so much as the memory of that summer that kills him. Izzy’s tragedy and his own nightmare. It crippled him emotionally, sucked all the confidence out of him, brought him to his knees, so that when the black clouds descended he had no defence, was unable to control what happened. He lived in darkness, breathing in the fuggy smell of his own unwashed body for months. Only when her family left London did he emerge, blinking, into the light.
He goes home, feeling wrung out, and walks into a house full of light and laughter. It’s almost too much, but he puts a smile on his face and joins in, using the banter with Lottie to cover up the fact that’s he’s been knocked for six.
After Lottie has gone up to bed, he tries to chat. Usually they have no problem, but this time Grace is doing all the work, telling him about her day, about the latest house her boss has bought, about how
much potential it has. He’s so glad she’s found this career, that it gives her so much pleasure. He loves to watch her while she speaks, especially when she’s animated.
The problem is Taisie, or Anna as he should learn to think of her. He won’t be able to relax until he’s at least tried to make her see sense. He would do it tonight – the class address list is stuck to the fridge – but he can’t leave Grace again, not now that she’s had a glass of wine, she’s happy, and giving off clear signals. He’d be rejecting her, and he won’t do that. And frankly, today has been bad enough; he just wants to feel her arms around him.
After they’ve made love, Nick leans on his elbow and runs his hand along the undulating curve of Grace’s ribcage, waist and hip. He wants to remember her for ever like this. She’s more beautiful tonight than she’s ever been; her skin glowing, her eyes darkened, her cheeks pink, and he’s overwhelmed by love for her. She holds his gaze for so long that he laughs.
She smiles back, a twitching, ironic smile. ‘What is it? What are you laughing about?’
‘Nothing. You just make me so happy.’
That night the creatures come at him with such a surge of energy and violence that he throws himself out of bed, and crouches pressed up against the wall, his arms covering his face. When Grace rushes to his side, he throws his arm out, catching her on the shoulder.
‘Ow. Nick, wake up. You’re having a nightmare.’ She takes him in her arms and rocks him as he shudders. ‘It’s OK. Everything’s OK.’
GRACE
Saturday, 5 May 2018
MY STOMACH DROPS. ‘WHAT DO YOU MEAN BY ‘INCIDENT’?’
‘Mrs Foreman has been violently assaulted,’ Marsh says.
‘Jesus. How awful. What am I going to tell Kai?’
‘Say she’s been in an accident, and she’s in hospital. You’re going to have to make a statement …’
There’s a noise and we both turn. Kai is standing in the doorway staring at us.
‘Where’s Mum?’
I go to him, but Marsh gives me a warning look. We don’t know for sure yet, his eyes say. Do not throw this at the child.
