Payback

by Gemma Rogers

  I headed home to continue the search on my laptop. I went up to the flat using the front door, instead of going through the office so as to avoid bumping into anyone. Luckily, I was able to get upstairs without being seen. I made a sandwich and sat back behind the laptop which I’d left on the kitchen table. This time, I googled army barracks, Oxford, and a list popped up. There was nothing for it, I’d have to get on the phone and ring each one until I found them.

  The fifth call was to the barracks in Bicester and a helpful gentleman was able to confirm, after some friendly coaxing, that officer Alan Keeble was a serving resident from 1997. He had retired due to ill health in 2005. As helpful as the man was, he wouldn’t tell me where the Keebles lived now, citing data protection and whispering that he’d given me too much information already.

  I had to assume they were still in the area, having lived there for eight years before retiring. Especially given that Alan had retired as he was unwell. Next, I tried to look on the electoral register. I couldn’t find anything online and kept being pointed to the local council where you could go, in person, and look through the list.

  I chanced on a suggested link to 192.com, which found four people with the surname Keeble in Bicester. Once I’d paid a small subscription fee, I could see other residents at the same address. Mr. A Keeble listed a Mrs. J R Keeble residing at the same address. That had to be the one. I wrote the address down and keyed it into my phone. A telephone number was listed against the address too, but for some of the questions I needed to ask it might be better face to face.

  I mapped the route using my phone and saw it would take around an hour and a half to get to Bicester. It was nearly midday, so I grabbed my keys and headed out the door. I could leave now and still get back before the office closed. Finding Hayley was becoming more urgent as the days went by. If she could set fire to Becca’s car and possibly run Gareth off the road, the father of her child, she was capable of far more than I imagined. Maybe the cards and flowers, even the balloon, were paving the way for things to come? I shuddered, icy tendrils closing around me. Exactly how much danger was I in?

  I had a good run to Bicester and was thankful my phone doubled as a satnav; following directions was not one of my strong points. I deliberated whether to call James and tell him what I’d found out, but I had to consider that he might already know. He knew Gareth better than any of us and it was plausible that he knew Hayley had left because she got pregnant. Even if Gareth didn’t tell him when we were younger, he could have told him years later. I couldn’t shake the feeling there was something James wasn’t telling me, and I wanted to give him the news in person, hoping I’d see it in his eyes if he already knew.

  Alan and Jackie owned a quaint cottage with a thatched roof on the outskirts of Bicester. I passed a church, a village shop and a pub in the nearby streets on my way. It was a perfect spot for retirement. The whole area was picturesque with lots of greenery and was somewhere I could imagine living happily. Outside the Keebles’ cottage was an immaculate garden, complete with hanging baskets and trailing flowers along the stepping stone path. I wanted a cigarette for my nerves but remembered how anti-smoking Hayley always said her dad was. I didn’t want to get off on the wrong foot.

  I got to the door and tapped gently, waiting a minute before tapping again. I hoped I hadn’t come all this way to be disappointed. As I was about to leave, I heard some shuffling and the door opened. Jackie Keeble stood in the doorway, her silver blonde hair piled on top of her head, not a strand out of place. She looked almost identical to when I last saw her. Out of politeness, she smiled, her face impassive, but I struggled to get my words out. The fact she still looked the same, bar a few more lines, had thrown me.

  ‘Can I help you?’ she asked.

  ‘Mrs Keeble, it’s Sophie. Sophie White, one of Hayley’s old friends. My dad owned the estate agents back in Copthorne,’ I blabbered.

  ‘Sophie, yes I remember. Gosh you’re all grown up. You’re a long way from home?’

  ‘I was hoping I could talk to you; do you have five minutes? It’s about Hayley.’

  Her eyes darkened for a second at the mention of her daughter’s name. ‘Oh, I see. Well you better come in.’

  27

  October 1997

  Being back at school was strange at first, all anyone would talk about was Lady Diana’s funeral, how sad it was that she had died and all the celebrities that had attended, but by the following week it was old news. That night wasn’t mentioned, not openly at school. We’d moved on. However, Hayley seemed more withdrawn than normal, spending most of her time in the library. She told us she was studying as her parents expected her to do well in her GCSEs and she was sinking under the pressure. But even with Robyn, whom she was closest to, she wasn’t the same. It was like she was dead behind the eyes, never fully in the present, even when she was with us.

  Hayley never did elaborate on what had happened. She didn’t tell any of the others more than she’d told me on the phone the day after the party. Her story remained unchanged. Nothing had happened with Gareth. She’d changed her mind and gone home. Eventually we stopped pushing for more details as it was clear she wasn’t going to divulge. Although it was strange because Gareth had an almost identical story, word for word in fact. All of us guessed there was more to it, but neither of them would tell.

  Becca and Mark were inseparable, and it irked the blonde bitches no end. They all thought Mark was way out of Becca’s league and voiced their poisonous opinions at every opportunity. He was one of the best-looking boys in our year, but they hated it more as he only had eyes for her. Even when one of them, Francesca, flaunted her bony arse at him during PE, he didn’t bat an eyelid. None of them received any attention from him and we loved him even more for it. With their older boyfriends no longer at school, and their male followers dwindling, they spent their time shooting withering comments and cutting remarks at us.

  We hung out a bit more with the lads, minus Hayley. James, as it turned out, was pretty cool. He knew loads of interesting facts and was a massive film buff. Enlisting us in regular trips to the cinema at the weekend. I started seeing Elliot, more casually than Becca and Mark. It was awkward at first as Gareth was still being a bit off, although he swore he didn’t care what we did. I still went to his on a Saturday when my parents went for dinner. Occasionally, I’d feign a stomach ache or something and try to get out of it, but when I went, we’d sit and play Nintendo like before. But it didn’t feel right, something hung in the air between us. Unspoken. Elliot sensed it when all the boys were together, Gareth didn’t want to be around him.

  We didn’t want to rub his face in it, so most of the time Elliot and I hung out alone. We’d make out and chat about stuff, always finding things to laugh about or people to take the piss out of. I enjoyed being with him, but when we were with the group, we didn’t hold hands or kiss. The boys kept their promise and our secret remained untold.

  The first term was flying by and we were overloaded with coursework, our A4 folders bulging, some of us taking it seriously for the first time, knowing every piece would now count towards our GCSEs. Teachers were ramping up the pressure and we spent a lot of time studying in small groups. Hayley was always in the school library when she wasn’t in class, at lunchtime and sometimes after school too, buried in a textbook. Becca was creating a waistcoat for her textile’s coursework. It was magnificent, like something out of Joseph and his Amazing Technicolour Dreamcoat, or Willy Wonka. We would often sit with her in the art block at lunchtime as she worked on it. Especially when it was raining. That’s where we were when James and Elliot came to find us.

  ‘Whatcha doing?’ James asked, and Becca pointed towards the mannequin in front of her, rolling her eyes at the obvious question. ‘Wow, that looks amazing,’ he said, reaching out to touch the emerald green silk at the back.

  ‘Bogus, you mean.’ Elliot bent over laughing. Sometimes he was a dipshit.

  ‘Shut up,’ I said, throwing a paintbr
ush at him I’d been twiddling.

  Becca smiled through gritted teeth. ‘What do you want, I’m trying to work here?’

  ‘James wants to invite you to his Halloween party,’ Elliot smirked, and James blushed.

  ‘My mum and dad are holding a party at the community centre, mainly for my little sister and her school friends, but there’s another room we can use, and they said I could invite some mates.’

  ‘Sounds lame,’ Elliot interrupted. I glared at him.

  ‘Is it fancy dress?’ Robyn asked.

  ‘Yep.’

  ‘Then we’re in.’

  We spent the rest of the lunch break not so much focused on Becca’s waistcoat but more on what we were going to wear. None of us owned costumes. Becca suggested she’d get her mum to order a few and we’d pick from between them. We all readily agreed; I knew my parents would try to make me wear something made from a bin bag.

  The night of the party was the Friday of half-term and a couple of days before Hayley called to ask if she could come with us. James had invited her too, but she didn’t want to arrive on her own. Hayley hadn’t been out with us for a while, except for a couple of shopping trips into town and a study session at Robyn’s. We were excited the gang was going to be back together.

  We got ready at Becca’s – she’d chosen a witch costume with purple and black striped tights. Robyn had a black onesie with a skeleton on the front, which glowed in the dark. I resorted to a vampire outfit and went way overboard on the fake blood.

  ‘Jesus, you look like Carrie,’ Hayley said when I answered the door, bearing my fangs. She wore a nun’s habit and I couldn’t help but laugh as she stepped over the threshold in her sensible flat shoes and billowing gown. ‘I know, right,’ she drawled. At least she hadn’t lost her sense of humour.

  We arrived at the party when it was in full swing. In the main hall, there were loads of toddlers and younger children running around. James’s parents had hired a small bouncy castle and the room was dark with glowing pumpkins and orange streamers. James’s sister, Marie, was dressed as a devil and kept stabbing anyone who came near her with a rubber pitchfork. We popped in to say hello to his parents before going to what had been designated the teens’ party room.

  For something which could have been rubbish and a massive disappointment, James had done a great job at turning the little room into a creepy hideout for us to chill in. The walls were covered in long black drapes and green flashing fairy lights. More pumpkins and glow-in-the-dark spiderwebs lined the edges of the room and in the middle was a fake fire. Built with sticks and a brick surround, it had flames of paper which waved magically. Overhead hung a cauldron full of punch. Music blasted out from a boombox on a table covered in ghoulish foods.

  ‘This looks wicked,’ Robyn said, diving straight in and eating a breadstick designed to look like a witch’s finger. We saw a few other people from our year. There were around twelve of us crammed into the room. Elliot, who was dressed as the hunchback of Notre Dame, joined us, handing out cups of punch.

  ‘It’s got vodka in it,’ he said in a high-pitched squeak.

  I took a sip, coughing.

  ‘It’s got a lot of vodka in it,’ I warned the girls.

  Hayley wrinkled her nose and put her cup on the table. The rest of us took a large gulp, forcing the liquid down.

  I spotted Gareth chatting to Alice, a nice girl from my maths’ class. He was dressed as a werewolf and waved as I caught his eye. I’d managed to avoid the last couple of Saturday nights at his house, claiming I had too much coursework to do. Mum and Dad were going to guess something was wrong, but I struggled to spend time with Gareth now. Something had fractured between us that night and I wasn’t sure it would heal.

  ‘I need to talk to you guys,’ Hayley said a couple of hours later. Most of us had indulged in too much punch and were sweating from all the dancing we’d been doing. It had been an awesome night; Becca had been sick, and Elliot and I were caught snogging in the hallway by James’s dad. He didn’t say much, only ‘Come on, guys, there’s kids about.’ Elliot had retorted, ‘Yeah us’ under his breath, but thankfully his dad didn’t hear.

  ‘What’s up?’ I shouted over the music.

  ‘I’m moving.’

  ‘What?’ Robyn shouted, incredulous.

  ‘I’m not coming back to school. This is my last night here.’

  Amplified by alcohol, Robyn burst into tears and threw her arms around Hayley, who looked like she was being choked by her fake crucifix.

  ‘Why?’ I asked, shaking my head. And, why wait until the night before to tell us?

  ‘Dad’s been stationed up north,’ Hayley replied and for the first time I realised how tired she looked. Dark circles beneath her eyes and a milky pallor. She looked beaten and defeated. Her shoulders sagged, all the fight gone out of her. If there was any to begin with. I guessed the move had been the cause of a lot of arguments at home.

  Robyn sobbed, snot trickling down her face. Becca joined her, and Hayley’s eyes glistened in the disco lights. We danced together as a group, the four of us. Robbie William’s ‘Angels’ played out over the stereo and the boys watched on as we huddled together swaying. When Hayley left the next day, we never saw her after that.

  28

  October 2018

  Inside the Keeble residence, a musty smell lingered, as though the windows had been shut tight for months. Jackie led me through a narrow hallway into a farmhouse kitchen at the back, directing me towards the pine dining table.

  ‘Take a seat, Sophie. Would you like some tea?’

  ‘Yes please.’ I glanced around, absorbing my surroundings. I couldn’t see any photos of Hayley in the hallway as I passed, or in the kitchen. Nothing on the pinboard except for hospital appointment letters and reminders. Jackie had her back to me, filling the kettle and putting teabags into mugs. ‘You look so well, Mrs Keeble, the same as when I last saw you.’

  ‘Sophie, you’re too kind. I wish I felt twenty years younger. Please call me Jackie. Mrs Keeble was my mother-in-law and it’s far too formal for me.’

  ‘How’s Mr Keeble?’

  Jackie looked startled at the mention of his name, like I’d punched her in the gut. She didn’t answer straight away, not until she brought the mugs over and sat opposite me. Inwardly I cringed. Had I made a mistake? Maybe Alan had passed away? ‘Alan’s in the sitting room, watching television. He’s got dementia, has had for a few years now, but I look after him as best I can.’

  ‘I’m sorry, that must be tough.’ I saw from her watery eyes it was. I couldn’t imagine how heart-breaking it must be to watch someone you love slowly slip away from you.

  ‘He thinks I’m his nurse. I have to remind him daily that we’ve been married for forty-five years.’ Jackie sniffed and pulled a tissue out from her cardigan sleeve, blowing her nose. ‘You came to ask about Hayley?’ she prompted, and her face changed. She became stoic, sitting straighter in her chair and crossing her arms. It put me on edge.

  ‘Yes, I’m trying to track her down.’ I didn’t want to show my hand.

  ‘Oh, you don’t know?’ Jackie pursed her lips.

  ‘Know what?’

  ‘I haven’t seen Hayley for over twenty years.’ Jackie leant back in her chair and sighed as though she was frustrated to be repeating herself.

  My mouth fell open and I blinked repeatedly, trying to understand.

  Jackie continued, ‘We left Copthorne because she’d got herself pregnant, silly girl. At fifteen too! Alan was horrified, he moved us here as soon as he could get a transfer arranged. He didn’t want anyone to know. He wanted it dealt with quickly and quietly, but Hayley ran away.’

  My brain whirled with questions and I felt my pulse quicken. Feeling lightheaded, I gripped the seat of the chair to anchor myself. So, it was true? But how? She hadn’t slept with Gareth that night. They’d both said nothing happened so how could she have got pregnant? And if she was then why on earth did she run away? Where had she gone at fi
fteen? How could her parents have let this happen? I knew I wasn’t being fair, making assumptions knowing very little. Basing them on what Hayley had told us.

  ‘I’m so sorry, Jackie, I had no idea,’ I said, shaking my head, unable to match her words with the reality.

  ‘Yes, well, I’m sorry to shock you, pet. I’ve had a long time to come to terms with it.’

  ‘Do you know who the father was?’

  ‘She would never tell me who the father was. Alan wanted it rid of, he didn’t care about the ins and outs.’

  I sighed, my heart breaking for Hayley.

  ‘And that’s why she ran,’ I said softly, a statement not a question, but Jackie nodded anyway, her head bowed. She just went along with it, the dutiful wife, doing what she was told. We were all scared of Hayley’s father and tried to avoid knocking for her if we could. He was always so stern and angry looking. ‘Was she reported missing?’ I asked, waiting for the lie to come, knowing there was no missing person report under the name Hayley Keeble.

  ‘No.’

  ‘Why?’ I blurted, unable to hide the outrage I felt.

  ‘Because she made me a promise. She left a note, saying she would ring me every Saturday at three in the afternoon if no one came looking for her, but if we sent the police, we would never hear from her again.’

  I was confused, it didn’t sound like the Hayley I knew. She wouldn’t say boo to a goose. But what people do when they are desperate can be out of character, and she must have been truly desperate. ‘Did she ring?’ I asked.

  ‘Yes, every week, for two years. She was a few days shy of her sixteenth birthday when she disappeared, but she called every week, as promised, until she turned eighteen.’ Jackie’s cold exterior crumbled and a fat tear dripped from her cheek. I wanted to comfort her but was unsure how she’d react, so I sat with my hands wrapped around my mug waiting for her to continue. ‘I’ve never heard from her since. We didn’t tell the police at the time as I thought I could convince her to come home. I told her I was sorry, begged her to return, hundreds of times. She would be on the phone for five minutes at most. Tell me she was safe and happy and not to worry. Maybe she’d got involved with a cult or something. I searched and searched, but it was like a needle in a haystack.’ Jackie broke down and my resolve went with it.