Finding Grace

by K. L. Slater

  I tried to swallow down the lump that had appeared in my throat. She sounded as if she actually knew stuff about us. About our family.

  Oscar squawked and shook his rattle as she turned to glower down at him.

  Blake sat up a little straighter, his brow furrowing. ‘I don’t appreciate your manner, Mrs Charterhouse, but I’m happy to discuss the rejection of your plans if you’d like to make an appointment with—’

  ‘I don’t want a fucking appointment, thank you very much.’ She lifted a hand and slapped it back down on the table, and I jumped a little in my seat. Oscar’s head jerked up, startled. ‘I want to hear what you’ve got to say about the campaign you started against us. Right now. In front of these good people.’

  The colour had heightened in her face as quickly as it drained from Blake’s, but his voice was firm and calm.

  ‘I’ll thank you to watch your language in front of my son.’

  He glanced at me, gave me a tiny reassuring nod to signal he had everything under control. But I didn’t feel convinced, and neither did the customers sitting at the tables around us, judging by the number of open mouths on display. I dug my nails into my palms in an effort to stop my hands shaking.

  The woman’s scowl deepened and she showed no sign of backing off.

  Blake cleared his throat. ‘Mrs Charterhouse. As you can see, I’m enjoying brunch with my wife and son and I’m not at liberty to discuss this issue with you right now. I can assure you that—’

  ‘It was a vendetta, that’s what it was.’ She turned to the other patrons of the café, seemingly in an attempt to get them onside. ‘Thirty-five years we’ve lived on Bridgford Road. Thirty-five years! A few purpose-built dog runs is all we wanted. To set up a little boarding kennel to supplement Harold’s pension.’

  She jabbed a thumb at the mute man behind her, who looked as if he was willing the floor to swallow him up, then addressed the customers again.

  ‘Is it too really too much to ask… to make a modest living from one’s own land?’

  A murmur rose from the other tables. I couldn’t tell if it was in agreement or not. I now recalled Blake referring to the Charterhouses’ planning application a few weeks ago. He’d spoken to a stream of concerned residents who’d approached him for help, unhappy at the couple’s boarding kennel proposal for their back garden.

  Blake sighed. ‘It was your own neighbours who objected to the planning permission, as well you know, Mrs Charterhouse. I didn’t—’

  She raised her voice above his.

  ‘It was you who whipped them up into a frenzy. Frightening them with tales of hounds barking through the night, and the non-existent wildlife being affected, all because of your ridiculous obsession with the environment. Anything that’ll enhance your reputation you’ll happily jump on board, no matter what the cost to others. That’s about the size of it, isn’t it?’

  Oscar mewed, his eyes wide as he looked from his father to the angry woman. He was getting upset.

  We were saved by a young waitress approaching, twisting a tea towel in her hands.

  ‘Can you keep your voice down, please?’ Her eyes darted around the room. ‘Sorry. People are trying to eat, and—’

  ‘Don’t worry, we’re going.’ The woman pushed her face closer to Blake’s. He didn’t flinch, but I saw him clench his back teeth in an effort to keep his expression impassive. ‘You know, your life might not be quite as perfect as you think it is. Ever considered that?’ She chuckled. ‘You act as if you’re the golden boy around here, but there are plenty of us can see right through the facade. You’re treading on a lot of people’s toes on your way to Westminster, and making a lot of enemies.’

  She dropped her voice to a whisper and leaned closer still, so only we two could hear her words.

  ‘Watch your back, Councillor Sullivan. That’s my advice.’

  As she turned to leave, she swept her hand over towards me and knocked Blake’s tomato juice into my lap. A collective gasp rose from the other customers as she strode out of the café, her husband scuttling after her.

  I cried out and jumped up, my clothes wringing wet. Blake sprang into action, grabbing our napkins to dab at the spill.

  ‘Are you OK, Lucie? What a cow. I can’t believe she did that…’

  Concerned people began milling round, offering more napkins. Unknown hands pressed towards me, touched my clothes. I could hear soft voices comforting my son. Oscar began to cry, and Blake plucked him out of the high chair.

  I looked down at the small clumps of red, oozing flesh that clung to to my leggings as I tried to steady myself by gulping in air.

  An avalanche of memories that I seemed to spend half my life trying not to recall filled my mind. Sixteen years instantly melted away and I was back there, just like it was yesterday.

  My mouth filled with saliva and my heart seemed to be pounding at the base of my throat.

  The other customers’ concerned faces loomed in and out as I tried frantically to draw in more breath, but the smell of cooking and the lack of fresh air just made me feel worse. I felt a hand on my arm, and my husband launched forward as if in slow motion. It galvanised me into action.

  I broke away and rushed towards the customer loo that I knew was located at the back of the café. But the contents of my stomach beat me to it, and I threw up there and then, all over the floor.

  Twelve

  Back home, Blake fussed around me.

  I pushed him gently away and made to sit up. ‘Oscar? Is he…’

  ‘Oscar’s fine, I’ve strapped him in his chair for a few minutes.’ He placed his hand on my upper arm and I relaxed back again. ‘I’ll make you some toast and strong coffee. You hardly ate a thing at the café and it’ll help with the dizziness.’

  ‘No. Thanks, but I couldn’t eat a thing. I’ll just have some water.’

  He left the room swiftly, clearly glad to find something to do. It had been a long time since my spate of panic attacks, and I imagined he didn’t want to go back there. Believe me, neither did I.

  I could hear him murmuring reassuringly to Oscar in the kitchen. I was making such a mess of everything: worrying what Blake was up to when he was out of the house, neglecting to watch over my baby so he fell off the bed and hurt himself.

  And now the incident at the café to add to the list.

  I felt twisted up inside, making a spectacle of myself just because that mad old harridan tossed a glass of tomato juice in my lap. Lots of witnesses meant lots of local gossip. It wasn’t the kind of attention Blake would want to foster, for sure. I was becoming a liability to have around.

  ‘I’m sorry, Blake. I don’t know what came over me,’ was the first thing I said when I stopped throwing up, every customer in the café gawping at me when I collapsed into a chair feeling dizzy and disorientated.

  ‘Don’t be silly, Lucie. Here, have a sip of water.’ He held a glass to my lips and I took a little.

  ‘She’s a bloody madwoman, that Barbara Charterhouse,’ someone called out, to a flurry of grunts of agreement.

  ‘It’s assault, that’s what it is,’ someone else remarked. ‘You’ve plenty of witnesses here, if you want to report her.’

  ‘Don’t let the nasty cow get away with it,’ another voice added. ‘She needs teaching a lesson.’

  ‘Thanks, everyone,’ Blake said grimly, jiggling Oscar in his arms. ‘I’m not worrying about all that right now. I just need to get my wife home.’

  There were several offers of lifts, and he gratefully accepted one. I’d never been so glad to walk through my own front door.

  Now Blake came back through from the kitchen and handed me a small glass of water.

  ‘This’ll cheer you up. Look who’s here, on the Smiler, of all things.’

  He held his phone in front of me, and Grace’s face filled the screen, alive with terror and excitement on the infamous steel roller coaster. I smiled, despite a twinge of worry that she wouldn’t be safe on the ride. I felt better already for
seeing that she was obviously having a wonderful time.

  ‘Mike’s sent a text, too. The girls are both ecstatic because they’re managing to scrape the minimum height restriction for the scariest rides. He says they’re planning to leave about four.’

  I glanced at my watch. Still plenty of time until they’d be back. ‘I think I’d like a nap, if that’s OK with you. I feel exhausted.’

  ‘Course it is.’ He reached for a folded blanket from the armchair. ‘Please don’t feel bad about what happened today, Luce.’

  I shook my head. ‘I know. I just wish I didn’t have such a dramatic reaction when something out of the ordinary happens. It wasn’t that awful in the scheme of things.’

  My anxiety levels could soar from nought to one hundred miles an hour in the space of a few seconds. I seemed to have no control over it at all.

  ‘You can’t help the way you’re made, and I for one wouldn’t want to change a single thing about you.’

  I bit my lip.

  ‘Those things Mrs Charterhouse said… she knew I didn’t work, and that comment she made about the children being spoilt. How does she presume to know anything about us?’

  ‘Pure bluster, I should think,’ Blake said cheerfully, plumping a cushion and sliding it behind me. ‘She and the folk she chooses to hang around with are all big supporters of Len Broadman. She’s just a bitter, nasty person and really not worth your attention, darling.’

  Len Broadman had been elected as councillor for the Trent Bridge ward three times in a row before Blake beat him hands down last year. He still had lots of support in the area and seemed to occupy himself by being the proverbial thorn in Blake’s side whenever he had the chance.

  Still, if Barbara Charterhouse’s spiteful comments didn’t bother my husband, then I reasoned I shouldn’t let them bother me, either.

  I lay down on the couch and Blake draped the fleece blanket over me.

  ‘Try to get some rest. I’ve already called your dad, and he says he’ll have Oscar for a few hours.’

  Dad loved having the kids, but now I felt like I was imposing on him, because he’d looked after Oscar all day yesterday as well.

  ‘Can’t you watch him while I nap?’

  ‘I’ve got one or two things to do, but I’ll be home long before Grace is, so don’t fret.’ He kissed me lightly on the forehead. ‘An indoor picnic and a film later; I’m sure Grace will approve. I’ll get some snacky bits while I’m out.’

  He brought Oscar over for a kiss, and then I heard the click of the latch as he pulled the front door closed behind him. The very faint hum of the Audi’s environmentally friendly electric engine started up, and they were away. No doubt Blake was off to do more good in the community after calling at Dad’s, despite the opinion of people like Mrs Charterhouse.

  Her words rattled around in my head.

  There are plenty of us can see right through the facade.

  What did she mean by that? My husband was one of the most caring people I knew, with the purest motivations for helping people.

  How could someone like him breed the kind of resentment that puttered out of that woman like toxic fumes?

  I pushed the unanswered questions away and concentrated on relaxing each part of me, starting with my fingers, palms, forearms, elbows…

  Finally, I felt myself start to drift away.

  Thirteen

  Sunday afternoon

  For the next few minutes, Blake answers the detectives’ questions and I nod my agreement.

  I’ve been a bit distracted, thinking through the exact events of the day prior to Grace setting off from Olivia’s house. I haven’t shared all the minutiae with the detectives, of course. Blake has just outlined the main points.

  I don’t know how much longer I can stand this feeling. Feelings. Terror, grief, extreme frustration at the lack of control. Conflicting emotions all tangled up in my head like an unravelled ball of wool.

  How can it have come to this? Only this morning, we had such an ordinary family life: thoughts of watching a movie later together, hearing all about Grace’s day. Now that’s been replaced by the prospect of a hellish existence without her. It feels like the devil flipped a coin on a whim and we just lost the toss.

  Or perhaps this is my own personal penance to pay and not random at all.

  I can hear the searching officers’ feet stomping about upstairs in Grace’s room, interspersed with sliding, scraping and thumping noises as they move furniture, peer into spaces, into shadowed, little-used corners.

  There’s a marked change in the location of their footfall before the furniture-moving noises begin again. I realise they’ve now started in Oscar’s small bedroom, just above us.

  And that’s when it hits me.

  They think we’re lying. They think we’ve done something to Grace and hidden her body here, in her own home.

  My body feels brittle, as if the slightest movement could break me into little pieces. I sit very still and hold my breath.

  ‘Mrs Sullivan?’

  I pull in air. ‘Sorry. I… I didn’t hear…’

  ‘I wondered if you could take us through your movements after Grace left the house with her friend for the theme park. In your own words.’

  It seems so pointless when Blake has already covered this.

  ‘I… I just showered and then we went for brunch.’

  ‘And where exactly did you go?’

  ‘Copper Brasserie, on Central Avenue.’

  DS Paige writes it down. I can imagine him walking into the café to ask for verification we were there this morning.

  Suddenly Barbara Charterhouse’s rant seems well timed. Everyone will remember seeing us there, no doubt about it.

  But I don’t want to go into that unpleasant incident right now. It really isn’t relevant. Blake has said nothing about it, so I take it he doesn’t think it’s important either.

  ‘And when you left the café?’ DS Paige prompts me.

  ‘Well, we came home and I was feeling tired and a bit out of sorts, so I had a nap.’

  ‘OK. What time was it when you took your nap, and how long did you sleep?’

  ‘It was early afternoon and I slept for a good two hours. Too long, really.’

  I think about how upset I was at the time, and how inconsequential it all seems now.

  ‘And while your wife slept, Blake, what did you do?’

  ‘I went out to make a few calls, work-related. I have a lot of things to follow up in the local community. Issues from my monthly surgery, stuff like that.’

  DI Pearlman’s phone rings and he takes it out of his pocket and glances at the screen.

  Blake and I sit bolt upright. Have they found Grace?’

  ‘Sorry, I have to take this.’ It’s only when he stands up that he seems to register the odd mixture of hope and fear that must be plastered on both our faces. ‘It’s about another case, sorry.’

  ‘Another cup of tea?’ the female officer asks tentatively, and I feel guilty for snapping at her earlier.

  ‘Thanks. That would be lovely,’ I say. ‘Sorry I shouted, I…’

  ‘No apology needed.’ She smiles and picks up the cup, still swimming in its saucer full of cold tea at my feet.

  DS Paige turns to me.

  ‘I was just thinking about something Blake said earlier. That today was the very first time Grace walked home alone from her friend’s house.’

  DI Pearlman comes back into the room just as the female officer leaves to make our tea. He looks thoughtful, sits down again.

  I catch a lightning look between the two detectives. So quick, I wonder if I might have imagined it. I’m seized by an unexpectedly hopeful feeling. It’s now clear that these people are going to do their level best to help us find Grace. I can feel that they desperately want to help us. It’s so important I start to really believe that, to try and break the cycle of mistrust I’ve had for most of my life.

  ‘She… she’s been asking us for a while now. Turnin
g nine has seemed to be quite a milestone in her mind. We’ve noticed she’s fighting for a bit more independence, to do stuff on her own.’

  DS Paige writes something in his notebook.

  ‘So it’s true to say her behaviour has changed recently?’ DI Pearlman shifts in his seat a little. ‘She’s been finding her feet, challenging your parental authority. Would you say that’s a fair statement?’

  A flame of annoyance sears my chest.

  ‘Not in the way you’re trying to imply.’ I control the urge to snap. He did say at the beginning that there would be uncomfortable questions he had to ask. ‘Please, just accept that there’s no way Grace has run away from home. It’s completely natural for her to try and push certain boundaries as she gets older.’

  ‘Of course,’ DS Paige says amiably. ‘My own daughter is ten, going on sixteen. Can’t tell her anything she doesn’t already know.’ I nod, offer him a weak smile. ‘Nobody’s accusing you of anything, Lucie. We’re just trying to ascertain Grace’s state of mind in the hours before she went missing.’

  ‘I didn’t want her to walk home alone.’ I bite my lip and glance at my husband. ‘Blake pushed as hard as Grace did for it to happen and I felt I couldn’t just keep saying no.’

  It comes out wrong. Sounds accusing and I didn’t mean it to.

  ‘Lucie, that’s not really fair. I—’

  ‘I don’t mean it’s your fault, Blake. Just that… Well, you both convinced me really.’

  The detectives turn to look at him. Is it my imagination, or have their expressions turned slightly wolfish, as if they’ve just realised they are on to something?

  Blake looks at me pleadingly, his fingers twisting together. ‘Grace kept going on and on about walking home and we just thought it would be fine. We both did, right, Luce? We agreed that Mike would watch her leave his house and I would monitor her arrival home. I didn’t pressure you to say yes, or go on about it, did I?’

  ‘No. I… I didn’t mean it like that.’ It must sound to the detectives as if I’m backtracking, trying to protect my husband, but it’s true that I wasn’t blaming Blake.