The Night You Left

by Emma Curtis

  ‘She’s not home yet, sweetie.’

  Kai looks from me to the inspector. ‘Why is he here?’

  ‘I called him because I was getting a little bit worried. Are you hungry, sweetheart?’ It’s barely four o’clock, but I don’t think there’s any point forcing him back to bed when he’ll just lie awake worrying.

  Kai nods.

  ‘What do you usually eat for breakfast?’

  ‘Porridge. But Mum makes it.’

  ‘I can make it for you.’

  ‘S’all right.’

  He goes to the cupboard and pulls out a box of cereal, the fruit and fibre kind, finds a clean bowl and brings them to the table. Marsh signals me to follow him out of the room and closes the door.

  ‘We’ll be in touch as soon as we know anything. Can you look after Kai until her family comes to get him?’

  ‘He’s never met them.’

  Marsh raises his eyebrows.

  ‘It’s his dad’s parents he’s close to. I’m sure Kai will have their number on his phone. I’ll call them for you if you like.’

  Oh shit, I think as I see the two of them out. I’ve been through this with Lottie, so I know what will happen. No answer will satisfy Kai’s craving. He wants his mum like Lottie wanted Nick, and when he twigs she’s not coming home he’s going to want to know why.

  By this time a faint milky dawn is filtering into the house. I go back into the kitchen where Kai is sitting with his bowl of cereal untouched. I persuade him to brush his teeth and pack a few things, then I take him home. I let Toffee out into the garden and Kai goes out after him, but instead of throwing the chewed-up ball that Toffee offers him, his tail wagging, he stands there, staring at the houses behind, his shoulders slumped and his hands stuffed into his pockets. He comes back inside, I put the television on in the front room and he’s asleep on the sofa within seconds. At six, I phone his grandparents and speak to a sleepy Paula Foreman, Anna’s mother-in-law. She immediately says they’ll get a train to London and meet me and Kai at the hospital later today. She sounds a practical sort of person.

  At nine Tim comes downstairs, freshly shaved, dressed in chinos and a pale-pink shirt. ‘I thought I’d go to the RA,’ he says. ‘Get some culture.’ He spots Kai and raises his eyebrows. ‘I got your note. What happened?’

  ‘This is Kai, Tim. Anna’s son.’ Kai is petting Toffee now, so I lead Tim out of earshot. ‘Anna was attacked last night.’

  I watch him closely, but nothing in his reaction is abnormal, just surprise, shock, compassion.

  ‘Oh. I am sorry. That’s terrible. Poor Anna.’

  ‘Who was your text from?’

  He looks at me innocently. ‘What text?’

  ‘The one you got before you went out last night.’

  ‘Oh, that. That was Cora giving me an update about her mother. She’s still with us, bless her.’

  Some time later the police come to my house. Two of them, not Marsh, standing on my doorstep, asking to see Tim. I back into the hall as they advance.

  ‘Tim,’ I say, keeping my eyes on them. ‘You have visitors.’

  ‘On my way.’

  He comes out of the kitchen holding a mug, a puzzled smile on his face that disappears when he sees the uniformed officers. I show them into the front room and close the door, listening for long enough to hear one of the officers ask why he’d met Anna last night. Apparently, they were seen by a barmaid outside the Queen’s Arms. Tim responded that it hadn’t been a pre-arranged meeting, he’d just happened to bump into her. Then I move away. Tim met Anna? Why didn’t he say so earlier? What is he hiding?

  Five minutes later the three of them appear. Tim is pale.

  ‘What’s happening?’ I ask.

  ‘It’s nothing to worry about. I’m helping these fellows with their inquiries. Now don’t worry, Grace. I’ll be fine. I’ll come straight home.’

  ‘Shall I phone Cora?’ I wince as I say it, imagining her reaction.

  Tim looks at me in horror. ‘No. It’s lovely of you to offer, but Cora has enough to worry about with her mother. It’s a mistake. It’ll be cleared up in a trice.’

  I follow them outside, watch Tim being escorted to the car, the door being opened. He looks straight ahead as they drive off. I feel a presence at my side and turn to find Kai standing next to me.

  ‘Why’ve they taken Lottie’s grandad?’ he asks.

  ‘I don’t know.’

  ‘Is he under arrest?’ His tone is more interested than dismayed.

  ‘No, he’s not. They just need some information from him.’

  ‘But they did that thing … when the policeman pushes the criminal’s head down to make him go in the car.’

  ‘I think that was to make sure he didn’t hit his head on the door frame.’

  I chivvy Kai inside and settle him down with his book then open my laptop and try to work, but I can’t focus. I’m not sure I believe Tim about the text. It could have been Anna asking him to meet her, wanting to confront him about the past the police will check. The idea of Tim using violence on a woman is hard to accept, but who knows what people are capable of, if pushed too far.

  I drum my fingers on the table top until Kai looks up and frowns. I’ve been awake most of the night and the morning feels endless, the minutes ticking away. I keep the landline and my mobile close to hand.

  We take Toffee for a quick walk round the Common. In the distance I spot the telltale police ribbon cordoning off an area close to the pond. I steer Kai in the opposite direction. I wish Lottie was here. It would be so much easier with Kai if she was around. As it is, he walks along beside me, his shoulders slumped, his hands deep in his pockets, responding politely to my attempts at conversation before lapsing back into silence.

  We get home and I check the landline for messages. Nothing from Tim. After lunch it’s time to go to the hospital.

  Kai and I follow the signs to ICU and wait in Reception. Down the corridor a police officer stands guard outside one of the rooms. Kai can’t take his eyes off him. After a few minutes we’re collected by a nurse, told that we can see Anna and are given five minutes. The nurse holds the door open for us and points to a bed at the end. Anna is lying there, her head swathed in bandages, attached to a drip, a heart monitor tracking her pulse, oxygen whooshing in and out. Kai’s hand tenses in mine and I give it a squeeze. Harry and Paula Foreman rise to greet us. Harry is dressed in dark-brown trousers, green shirt and mustard V-neck, Paula in dark jeans and a navy-blue-and-white striped top. They are a lot older than I expected, closer to eighty than seventy. I wonder how they are going to cope.

  ‘Come here, darling,’ Paula says.

  Kai walks straight up to her, wraps his arms around her and allows himself to be tightly hugged. Harry ruffles his hair with the intimacy of a long-standing fondness, and I feel relieved of a burden. Kai will be safe with them. Paula leads him to his mother’s side and rests her hand on his shoulder. He looks up at her for reassurance and she nods. He takes Anna’s hand, lacing his fingers through hers.

  ‘Mum,’ he says, his voice wobbling. ‘Please wake up.’

  ‘How well do you know Anna?’ I ask, when we’ve left ICU.

  Harry flicks a look at his wife. She nods, understanding.

  ‘Shall we go and get you a comic?’ she says to Kai.

  ‘We made a decision,’ Harry says, once they’re out of earshot, ‘after our son’s death, that we would maintain a civil relationship with Anna, for Kai’s sake. We don’t like her and, quite frankly, we blame her for what happened to Ben, but both of us love that boy dearly. We don’t want to lose him.’

  ‘Your son killed himself?’

  ‘Yes. She made his life a misery.’

  I feel defensive on Anna’s behalf. ‘Nothing is that simple. You can’t know for sure what went on between them.’

  Harry shrugs. ‘All I know is that he changed when she came along.’

  ‘Didn’t you change when you met Paula?’

  He smile
s reluctantly. ‘For the better, I hope.’

  ‘You want someone to blame. That’s only natural. Look,’ I say, to forestall an argument. ‘All I want to know is what you can tell me about her personality. Why it is that when Anna meets a man, it tends to end in disaster for him, whether she’s to blame or not?’

  He nods. ‘You’ve hit the nail on the head there. Anna is the type of woman who is so convinced that she can wrap men around her little finger that when something happens to contradict her view of herself, it comes as an almighty shock. She doesn’t much like women. She makes bad decisions under stress. But she’s a good mum,’ he adds, glancing at Grace. ‘She loves that little boy to bits.’

  Later that evening, Tim comes home. He looks worn out.

  ‘What happened?’ I ask.

  ‘Nothing. I gave my statement, then hung around while they corroborated it. Then they let me go. Friendly bunch. Marsh, especially. Charming chap.’

  ‘Well, good.’

  I pause, wondering whether to ask him to elaborate, then decide not to. I’m existing on two hours’ sleep and I’m bone weary. He’s here, isn’t he? Proof that he’s done nothing wrong. But still, there’s a lingering niggle. He’s suspiciously unperturbed by his experience. And he hasn’t asked me questions about Anna. Surely, if he had seduced her, he would be curious, or even worried that his past misdemeanours were catching up with him. He’d ask me leading questions.

  ‘Everything OK?’ he asks.

  I shake myself. ‘Yes. Fine. Are you hungry?’

  ‘Famished. Why don’t we order something in?’ He pulls a bottle of wine out of the fridge and gets down two glasses. ‘What do you fancy?’

  Over supper, he tells me all I need to know without me having to ask. There was a text from Cora. And none from Anna, but he could easily have deleted that. Even so, the man had several witnesses, people who had seen him and Toffee after he had parted company with Anna.

  It’s an anti-climax. I had convinced myself that he had gone to meet Anna. It all fitted so conveniently. She confronted him about what he did to her, maybe threatened to accuse him retrospectively of rape, and he flipped. Only that’s not what happened.

  I fall into bed at nine o’clock and for the first time since Nick went, I drop off immediately. In the morning, I stare at my clock, astonished to see that it’s past eight. I put on my dressing gown and come downstairs to find Tim’s suitcase in the hall. He’s dressed and ready to go. Cora needs to be close to her mother, and he’s going back to Leicestershire to support her. I allow myself one mean thought. Thank God for Granny.

  NICK

  Friday, 13 April 2018 Three Weeks Earlier

  AT WORK THE NEXT DAY NICK CAN BARELY CONCENTRATE. Between phone calls and meetings, he searches online, looking for information on Izzy, typing in Isabel Wells drowning 2000 and finding himself down a rabbit hole, reading articles with a greed and masochism that shock him.

  Is Taisie justified in saying he owes her? More than she thinks. He could have ignored Izzy’s furious outburst and stayed with her. It’s the biggest regret of his life that he didn’t. Maybe he should give Taisie the money to get rid of her. It’s worth some thought, but he doubts it would stop there. He has to try again.

  His mobile rings and he glances at the display. He doesn’t recognize the number. The voice on the other end is unfamiliar and over-friendly.

  ‘It’s Alex. Alex Wells.’

  ‘Alex,’ Nick says, pushing himself away from his desk and standing up. After being confronted by Taisie last night, he’s not as surprised as he might have been. ‘How are you?’

  What else do you say after almost eighteen years? He hasn’t seen Alex since Izzy’s funeral. He must be, what, twenty-nine now. If this is a coincidence, it’s a massive one. Maybe Taisie phoned her brother. Maybe they are both in on it. Alex had been firmly under her thumb as a child.

  ‘I found you through LinkedIn.’

  ‘Oh. OK.’

  He waits for more, wandering over to the window and looking down into the narrow street where two office workers are smoking, their smoke reaching the windows above them before finally dissipating.

  ‘Is it a bad time?’ Alex says.

  ‘No. No, I’m just surprised to hear from you. What’re you up to nowadays?’

  ‘Nothing very exciting. I played it safe and got a law degree. No, the reason I’m calling … This is going to sound a bit random, but I’ve been thinking about that summer a lot recently.’ His voice thrums with embarrassment. ‘To tell you the truth, I’ve had some difficulties and I’ve been seeing a psychiatrist. This is about Izzy.’

  Nick’s voice is icy. ‘I thought it might be. I suppose you’ve been talking to Taisie.’

  ‘No.’ Alex sounds genuinely baffled. ‘I haven’t seen her in years.’

  ‘You want me to believe that it’s a coincidence that you’ve got in touch the day after she did?’

  ‘Did she? Wow. No, sorry, Nick. I had no idea. I hope she calls me. Did she give you a number?’

  ‘No.’ Nick sighs. ‘All right. What do you want?’

  ‘To talk about my little sister. You two were like partners in crime that summer. Great big Nick and shrimpy little Izzy. She idolized you, you know. Followed you around like a puppy.’

  ‘I don’t know about that,’ he says.

  ‘The thing is, Nick, I think, if you want to move on, it’s important to face up to your own mistakes.’

  ‘I’ll bear it in mind.’ He frowns and taps his pen on the side of his desk. He has no idea what Alex is getting at and is not sure he wants to know. ‘Are you calling everyone?’ he asks, thinking of Rory and the Moody twins. All the adults. Since half of them weren’t speaking to each other, it wouldn’t be an easy task.

  ‘Pretty much, but I particularly wanted to speak to you, because I reckon you might have said something to Izzy. Maybe rejected her?’

  ‘Rejected her? What the hell are you talking about?’

  ‘Oh come on, Nick. She was besotted with you. Think about it.’

  ‘Well, I …’

  ‘I’m to blame too. I played Taisie’s game. We bullied you. You wouldn’t have had to rely on Izzy for company otherwise. My psychiatrist suggested that I apologize. So, here it is. I am sincerely sorry. I was too young to realize how much damage we were doing.’

  Nick doesn’t want to talk about this. It was humiliating enough at the time. ‘Apology accepted,’ he says, in a bid to close the conversation. ‘I appreciate it.’

  But Alex isn’t listening; he has to have his moment. ‘All this time, I’ve blamed Taisie, but I now realize that I need to take responsibility. I should have stood up to her.’

  ‘Is that it?’

  ‘Yeah. Well, not quite. I just wanted to say that your dad was not entirely to blame for his restaurant going under.’

  Nick flinches. For Christ’s sake. ‘I don’t want to be rude, Alex, but would you mind if we don’t rehash all this? I’ve moved on. Nobody cares any more.’

  ‘OK. Sorry. I just thought you should know; it was Angus Moody who persuaded your dad’s investor to pull out. I mean, I kind of wish he had persuaded my dad as well.’ He laughs nervously. ‘But that’s another thing altogether. I’ve forgiven Tim for that, even if Dad and Mum haven’t. It was Pansy who told me. She feels bad about it. She said she’d like to see you.’ Alex’s speech fizzles out, as he becomes aware that Nick is no longer responding. ‘Well,’ he says awkwardly. ‘I’m sure you’re very busy. I’ll let you get on. Perhaps we could meet for a coffee some time.’

  Nick holds the phone away from him. He taps the disconnect icon and places it screen-down on his desk. Angus’s office is three doors down from his. In between them is Phillipa Travers, the gatekeeper. He buzzes her and asks if Angus is free, and on being told that he is, puts his jacket back on.

  Angus Moody. This is a man Nick looks up to, a man he thinks of as a mentor, someone who once saw a desperate and miserable sixteen-year-old boy and helped him wit
hout embarrassing him, who held out a hand of friendship without implying that he thought Nick needed a friend.

  In return, not only has Nick worked hard, but he’s lied for him about those non-existent insurance contracts. He did it because Angus meant something to him, and he couldn’t stand by and see him fall. And for what? The friendship means nothing. Angus Moody is just another entitled, arrogant arse. If he has no integrity, then what is the point? He feels anger building in his veins, throbbing at his temples, and knows that he should wait until he’s calmed down. But he can’t. He has Anna Foreman on his shoulders, and the stress of that, the threat she’s holding over him, means that his mind isn’t doing its habitual Connect-4 kind of rationalization. The discs are all over the place.

  Angus half stands, his expression welcoming. Nick closes the door behind him. His face feels tight, his hands twitch.

  ‘Everything all right?’ Angus says, gazing at Nick through his bifocals.

  Nick doesn’t say anything. He stares at his CEO.

  ‘Trouble?’ Angus prompts.

  ‘You could say that. I’ve just had an interesting conversation with Alex Wells.’

  ‘Alex? I haven’t heard from him in ages. How is he?’

  ‘Never mind how he is. He told me something.’

  Angus raises his eyebrows. ‘It’s obviously serious. Perhaps you’d better tell me what it’s about.’

  ‘He said that you persuaded my father’s investor to pull out of Ritchie’s.’

  There’s a short silence, then Angus shrugs. ‘I was doing a friend a favour, that place was never going to succeed.’

  ‘How the fuck did you know whether it was going to succeed or not?’ Nick explodes. ‘You pulled the plug on it. My dad threw his heart and soul into that place.’

  The door opens and Phillipa comes in, looks from one to the other, apologizes for interrupting and backs out. There’s a long silence before Angus speaks.

  ‘Your father never threw his heart and soul into anything. He’s lazy and he’s a bad bet.’

  ‘Maybe he is, but what the fuck’s that got to do with you? Why did you interfere?’