Someone turns the music up. It’s as though the party is only just getting going now that she’s leaving. As she approaches the fire, she spies Mark and Cath sitting close to one another. Cath is leaning in towards him, whispering in his ear, her hand on his knee. There’s no way Lainy’s interrupting whatever it is that’s going on there. And she doesn’t want Mark walking her home anyway. He might try something on – and that would be too hideous to even imagine.
Lainy alters her course and moves away from the fire, towards the darkness of the cliffs. She’ll walk home on her own.
Nineteen
Now
Back at the entrance to the caravan park, Tom and I wait in his car, windows rolled down, the night air warm and sticky. A rhythmic thump of music has started up from the clubhouse, with the even louder drone of the DJ’s voice booming through the speakers in an indecipherable monologue. Tom spoke to DS Nash on the phone ten minutes ago, and she said she’d be up at the site within the next quarter of an hour.
Tom texts Lainy to keep her in the loop, while I breathe deeply and try Jake’s mobile yet again. As expected, it goes straight to voicemail. I leave another frantic message, and then I count the cars in the car park – anything to try to stop myself spinning out.
‘I asked Lainy to ask Cath why she thinks Mark might have run off,’ Tom says.
Irrationally, I’m annoyed that he’s interrupted my car counting. It was helping me to stay calm. ‘What did she say?’
‘She said she’ll give her a call.’
I pick at a loose thread on my crumpled trousers and then pull at it viciously, trying to snap it off. But instead it digs into my fingers, making a painful red line, refusing to break. I swear under my breath.
‘Hey.’ Tom puts a hand on my arm. ‘We’ll get to the bottom of all this. You know that, right? We’ll find them.’
I nod and blink back a tear, glancing up as a car sweeps into the park, headlights blinding me for a moment. My breath catches and then my shoulders sag as I realise it’s not a police car.
‘I think that’s them,’ Tom says.
‘Where?’
‘Just pulled in. It’s an unmarked car.’
‘How do you know?’
‘There.’ He points to the front of the dark BMW at a blink-and-you’ll-miss-it flash of blue lights.
The doors open and two plain-clothes officers get out of the car – DS Lisa Nash in her grey suit and a younger fair-haired man in jeans and a T-shirt.
I square my shoulders, slide out of the passenger side and cross the car park with Tom.
‘Hello again,’ Nash says. ‘This is DC Paul Soames. You said you think your family might be in one of the caravans here?’
‘We don’t know,’ I reply. ‘It was just a bit odd. We came to speak to a man called Mark Tamworth, but he took one look at us and ran off.’
‘And why did you want to speak to him?’ Nash asks, her forehead wrinkling. ‘Do you know him?’
‘No,’ I begin, ‘but Lainy and I ran into her old schoolfriend earlier – Cath, her name is. We told her about Jake and Dylan going missing and she suggested we talk to her ex-husband – Mark Tamworth. Cath said he knows everything that goes on around here. So we thought it was worth a shot.’
Nash raises her eyebrows. ‘So, you don’t actually know Mark Tamworth, and he’s nothing to do with you or your family?’
I realise how tenuous this is all sounding. I hope Nash doesn’t think we’re wasting her time. ‘No, but—’
‘We just thought it was suspicious that he ran off,’ Tom interjects. ‘And we didn’t want to ignore it, just in case.’
‘I was also going to say that although I don’t know him, my husband was friends with him at school,’ I add.
Nash purses her lips and then gives a little nod. ‘You said on the phone that Mark Tamworth does the maintenance here?’
‘Yes,’ Tom replies.
‘And he lives in the caravan you visited?’
‘Yes.’
‘Okay. I agree it is a bit odd that he ran. We haven’t had any luck so far up on the cliffs, so let’s see if we can get a key from reception and check this place out.’
Tom and I follow her and DC Soames into the low red-brick building in front of us. There’s no one around, so Nash dings the little bell on the counter. After a few moments, a large woman in grey leggings and a Minnie Mouse sweatshirt huffs out of the back room, her eyes sweeping over the four of us.
‘Sorry, we’re full up,’ she says, turning away.
‘We’re not customers.’ Nash takes out her badge. ‘I’m Detective Sergeant Nash, and this is DC Soames. And you are?’
‘Oh. Right.’ She turns back with a sullen frown. ‘My name’s Sandra Coles. I’m the site manager. Something wrong?’
‘Have you got a moment, Ms Coles?’
She huffs again. ‘Well, I’m having my dinner and trying to watch Corrie on catch-up, but I suppose it’ll have to wait. You can call me Sandra.’ She eyes me and Tom suspiciously then returns her gaze to Nash. ‘How can I help?’
‘Mark Tamworth,’ Nash says. ‘He does the maintenance here, correct?’
‘Mark bloody Tamworth,’ the woman mutters under her breath and rolls her eyes.
‘Something the matter?’ DS Nash asks.
Sandra Coles shakes her head.
‘If there’s something you’re not telling us…’ Nash prompts.
‘It’s nothing,’ she says.
‘It might not be nothing to us,’ Nash says with an encouraging smile.
‘It’s just that Mark came to me a few days ago asking for this weekend off. I said, “You’re having a laugh. It’s one of our busiest weekends of the year.” Anyway, he told me that if I didn’t give him the time off, he’ll quit. We had a right barney and I wanted to tell him to piss off and leave right then and there. But that would’ve landed me in the crapper, and he is good at his job. So I had no choice. I had to give him the time off, didn’t I.’ Sandra crosses her arms over her ample chest. ‘I’m not happy about it. Not happy at all.’
‘Do you know where he’s gone?’ Nash asks.
‘No idea. I did ask, but he said it was personal. An emergency. For all I know, he might still be here. He didn’t say he was actually going away. What’s he done, anyway?’
‘We don’t know. But it would be very helpful if you could open the door to his caravan and let us take a look inside.’
‘Just because you’re the police, you can’t go marching into his caravan. I know the law. Don’t you need a search warrant?’
Nash stands firm. ‘We have reasonable grounds to search. A father and son have gone missing. Look, it’ll end up being a lot less hassle for you if you just open it up for us. Chances are they’re not there anyway. But we need to check.’
‘All right, calm down. It’s no skin off my nose. A missing kid, you say? You think Mark’s something to do with it?’
‘Like I said, we don’t know, but we need to establish that the father and son aren’t being held against their will.’
‘Fine, okay. I suppose my bangers and mash will have to go cold.’
‘Sorry to disturb your dinner,’ Nash says, ‘but it is important.’
‘Can’t imagine Mark doing anything like that. He’s got kids himself, you know…’ She waits for someone to reply, but no one does. ‘All right, let me get the spare set of keys.’ Sandra puffs into the back room and reappears moments later with the keys and a torch. ‘Okay, let’s go.’
‘How far is it?’ Nash asks.
‘About five minutes’ walk. Who are these two anyway?’ She jerks her head in our direction.
‘They’re helping us with our enquiries,’ Soames says without elaborating.
While Soames walks ahead with Sandra, Nash walks at a slower pace with me and Tom, asking us again to go over exactly what happened with Mark Tamworth. Tom repeats what he said the phone. She nods, but doesn’t pass comment. We soon reach the street light at the end of Block
C and turn down onto the dark path. Sandra turns on her torch and we follow the unsteady circle of light until we reach Tamworth’s caravan.
DS Nash climbs the steps and knocks on the front door. We wait, but all is quiet. She raps again. ‘Mark Tamworth, it’s the police, please can you open the door?’
Silence.
Nash turns to Sandra and nods. Sandra huffs up the steps with her key, turns it in the lock and opens the door.
Twenty
‘Wait here,’ DS Nash tells me and Tom.
I open my mouth to protest, but Tom puts a restraining hand on my arm. ‘It’s best to wait.’
I give a start as the lights flash on inside the caravan. Sandra is inside with the officers while Tom and I wait down on the path. I shiver despite the warmth of the night, the taste of this evening’s spaghetti bolognese burning the back of my throat. I hope I’m not about to vomit.
‘Do you think they’re in there?’ I’m talking just to take my mind off the rising sick feeling.
‘I don’t know. I guess we’ll find out in a minute. It’ll be okay. Do you need to sit down? You could sit on one of the steps.’
‘No. No, I’m fine.’ But my knees are like jelly. There are so many what-ifs spinning around in my brain that I just can’t think straight. I grip onto the wooden railing at the bottom of the steps, its splintered surface rough against my fingers.
Seconds later, the officers emerge followed by Sandra.
‘Well?’ Tom asks.
Nash shakes her head. ‘There’s no one inside and no sign of anyone having been held here.’
I exhale and my brain clears a little. I hadn’t ever truly thought they were inside the caravan, but it’s a relief that they haven’t found anything sinister. ‘Sorry for jumping to conclusions,’
‘Don’t apologise,’ Nash replies. ‘When it comes to missing children, it’s always worth exploring every avenue.’
‘I thought the same thing as you, Faye,’ Tom says. ‘I guess it’s desperation. Makes you clutch at every possibility.’
‘But I still don’t understand why Tamworth ran away.’ I make a mental note to quiz Lainy about him later. Maybe she’s holding something back about her past. I glance at Tom. Maybe he knows more than he’s letting on, too. Or am I just being paranoid?
I realise DS Nash is still talking, so I try to concentrate. ‘We’ll get the CSIs to take a look in and around the caravan, just in case. In the meantime, we’ll try Mr Tamworth’s mobile number again and have a chat. See if we can find out why he ran off when you approached.’
‘How likely is it that Mark Tamworth is something to do with Dylan and Jake’s disappearance?’ Tom asks the officers as we leave the caravan behind and make our way back towards reception.
‘Hard to say,’ Nash replies. ‘But we’ll keep all our lines of enquiry open for now.’
‘He keeps it nice and tidy in there,’ Sandra says grudgingly. ‘I’ll give him that. To be honest, I thought the place would be a mess.’
‘He must be behind their disappearance,’ Tom says. ‘Why else would he have run off? No one runs off like that unless they’ve got a guilty conscience, something to hide. You need to find him.’
‘Don’t worry,’ Soames says. ‘We will.’
Nash’s phone rings and she waves us on as she stops to take the call. I want to stay and eavesdrop, in case it’s something to do with my family. But she turns her back to us and takes a few steps in the opposite direction. I slow my pace a little, but Tom puts his hand on the small of my back to keep me moving. What can her phone call be about? Is it to do with Jake and Dylan? Have they found them? My palms begin to sweat and there’s a pulse in my throat that I’ve never felt before.
A few minutes later, we’re back outside reception and Nash has finished her phone conversation. ‘Can you get Mr Tamworth’s mobile number from Sandra?’ she asks Soames. ‘I need to talk to Faye.’
The background thump of my heart immediately comes to the fore, loud and insistent, vibrating my body and throbbing in my ears. ‘What is it?’ I ask, coming to a standstill. ‘Has there been some news? Have you found them?’
Sandra is staring at me, but Nash looks at Soames and jerks her head in the direction of reception.
‘Can I get that number from you, Sandra?’ Soames starts walking towards the building and she reluctantly follows, disappointed not to hear what the news is about. Once she’s out of earshot, I turn back to face Nash.
‘Well?’ I ask.
‘Let’s sit over there.’ She gestures to a cluster of faded wooden picnic tables in front of the clubhouse and I wonder what it is she has to tell me that warrants sitting down. It can’t be good news, can it? ‘It’s nothing to necessarily worry about.’ Nash is trying to put me at ease. But my brain is jumping from one terrifying conclusion to another.
Tom doesn’t say anything. He just comes to my side, and we walk over to the tables with Nash. A moment later, Soames has joined us – minus Sandra – and we all take a seat at a table littered with discarded rubbish, empty plastic cups and dirty crockery.
‘So?’ Tom asks.
‘Our guys have found a child’s red baseball cap on the cliffs,’ she says.
I inhale and clench my fists. ‘Dylan’s. It has to be Dylan’s, doesn’t it? What does that mean? Are they looking down on the cliffs now? Are they doing everything they can to find him? I want to go down and help!’ I stand clumsily, my body swaying.
‘Look, I know it’s hard,’ Nash says quietly, ‘but try not to jump to any conclusions. The cap could have blown off his head and landed down there quite easily. It doesn’t necessarily mean something bad has happened.’
‘It’s not windy. It hasn’t been windy all day!’ My voice borders on a shriek. ‘How could it have blown down there?’
‘It’s a clifftop,’ Nash says. ‘All it takes is one stray gust.’
‘Faye, this could be good,’ Tom says. ‘Hopefully, now that they’ve found Dyl’s hat, they’ll be closer to locating the two of them.’
‘There must have been an accident,’ I reply. ‘Maybe Dylan went down there to get his hat back and then Jake was forced to go down and rescue him. They could have been swept out to sea! Are the coastguard looking in the water? Jake’s a good swimmer, but it’s been hours…’
‘We’re got everyone looking,’ Nash says. ‘The coastguard’s on the water with lifeboats. We have officers combing the headland, and the air-sea rescue helicopters are sweeping the area. If your husband and son are there, we’ll find them.’
‘But it’s dark. They might not—’
‘They use all the latest tech,’ Soames interrupts. ‘Night vision, thermal imaging cameras, that kind of thing.’
‘What if they’re trapped in one of the caves?’ Tom asks. ‘Maybe they climbed down, but couldn’t get back up, so they took shelter from the incoming tide in a cave.’
‘Like I said,’ Nash replies, ‘if they’re down there, we’ll find them. Our guys are good at their jobs. They know what they’re doing.’
‘We should have reported them missing earlier!’ I cry, turning to Tom. ‘Why did we leave it so late? I’m so stupid. I should have called the police the minute I felt uneasy.’
‘Don’t beat yourself up, Faye. We didn’t realise. We just thought they’d lost track of time.’
I stand and run a hand through my hair, then put both palms to my hot cheeks. This is all turning into something huge and awful. Something out of a nightmare. Images of Jake and Dylan’s faces flash into my mind. Tom gets to his feet and turns to me. ‘It’ll be okay,’ he says softly. But I know he’s only saying it to calm me. He doesn’t know what’s actually happened. He’s only speculating.
The officers stand. Nash walks around the table to me. ‘If we could follow you back to your holiday home and get some items of clothing belonging to your husband and your son… for the sniffer dogs to get a good scent.’
Her words blur and I can’t respond.
‘Sure,’ T
om replies for me.
‘We’ll also need to collect DNA from a razor or a comb, or maybe a toothbrush?’
‘No problem,’ my brother-in-law replies.
‘Faye,’ DS Nash says gently. ‘I know this all seems overwhelming, but the chances are your husband and son will turn up right as rain. Nine times out of ten, the missing person turns up safe and well. Try to stay positive, okay?’
Trying to stay positive is all very well, but when you keep picturing your husband’s face still and lifeless, and imagine your child scared and confused, it’s hard to take that advice. I check my messages for the millionth time, but there’s nothing new. As I slip my phone back into my bag, I realise my whole body is trembling. I’m shaking from head to toe. The stress is finally showing.
‘Faye?’ Tom reaches out to touch my shoulder.
I flinch backwards, knocking into the chair.
He drops his hand, and his face creases in concern. ‘You’re shaking. Maybe you should sit down.’
‘I’m fine.’ I clasp my hands together to try to stop them trembling. ‘Let’s go back to the house and sort out those items for the sniffer dogs. I just need to keep busy.’ I turn to Nash. ‘Are you going to get people to look for Mark Tamworth too?’
‘Yes.’
‘But are you going to look for him tonight? Because he could be in a car and miles away by now. He could be—’
‘I promise you, we’re going to do everything to get your family back.’
‘It’s just…’ My voice cracks.
‘Faye,’ Nash says, her voice softening, ‘I take my job very seriously. I will look for your son and husband using all the resources I have. Okay?’
I look down at my shoes.
‘Okay?’ she repeats.
‘Okay.’ I look back up at her unflinching gaze. ‘Thank you.’
But the panic bubbling up inside my body is like molten lava in a volcano. My mind is scrambled and I can’t think straight. I keep telling myself It will be all right, it will be all right. But do I honestly believe that?
No. I do not.
The Marriage Betrayal Page 9