by Lisa Hall
‘Nice to see you, Anna. Is Fran home? Only I wondered if she’d had a chance to look at those posters I made, or if she needed any cleaning doing, any errands running or . . .’ She peers past me, looking over my shoulder into the hallway.
‘She’s . . .’ I pause for a moment, thinking that if Ruth is so insistent on being here then maybe I can use her for my own means, just this once. ‘Listen, can you stay for a minute?’ I pull her inside quickly before anyone sees and push her through into the kitchen.
‘Well, of course I can stay. I’ve been telling you since the day Laurel disappeared that I’m happy to help in any way I can, any way at all . . . Oh, no. What’s happened?’ Ruth trails off, her hand to her mouth as she looks at Fran slumped crying over the kitchen table. ‘Oh, is it Laurel? Did they . . . did they find her?’
‘No,’ I say, shortly. ‘Look, can you look after her for a bit?’ I gesture to Fran who still sniffs and snuffles into her arms. ‘I have to go out for a little while. I need someone to keep an eye on Fran, until Kelly arrives.’ I jump as the front door slams and Dominic’s outline passes the front window before I hear the beep of his car unlocking.
‘Was that . . .?’ Ruth points to the window, her coat sleeve falling back along her wrist.
‘Yes. He’s back to work,’ I say, frowning. Something has caught in the back of my mind, something that doesn’t feel right, but I can’t put my finger on it. ‘Look, can you stay for a bit until the FLO gets here or not?’
‘Of course I can,’ Ruth says, leaning down and rubbing Fran’s back. I see Fran’s shoulders tense and take a step backwards towards the front door. ‘I’ll make us a nice cup of tea, Fran, shall I?’
‘I won’t be long, OK?’ I almost sprint out of the front door, turning left towards the library. I’m going to get to Pamela before she gets a chance to arrange her story for DS Wright.
CHAPTER 18
I remember Pamela/Ella, whatever she wants to call herself, telling me she worked in the library, that first day we met, so I hurry over there but she isn’t anywhere to be seen, and when I ask someone they tell me it’s her day off. I ask for a telephone number, kicking myself at not thinking to jot down the number from Dominic’s phone, but understandably they refuse to give it to me.
Outside the library I pause for a moment, thinking what to do. I am still stunned by the revelation that Ella is Dominic’s Pamela, and my gut twists as I think of all the things I confided in her about Laurel’s disappearance, things that I never would have mentioned if I had known who she really was. What does she want? Is she here for Dominic – are they having an affair? Or is she hanging around for more sinister reasons?
I start to walk back along the road, taking the turning that will lead me down the narrow country lane that ends up at the community centre. There’s no point in going home quite yet, and although I may not have found Pamela at the library, I can at least make myself useful by seeing if there is anything I can do to help the search team – and there’s every chance she might pop up there, as she has so many times before.
As I pass the school gates, I can’t help but peer into the playground, wishing Laurel would come running out of the hall to meet me, lunchbox in one hand, big, beaming smile on her face, eager to tell me all about her day. Instead, I look round to see Mr Abbott walking towards the gate.
‘Anna, hello.’ He stands on the other side of the palisade fencing, making no move to let me in, or to come out to my side of the metal barrier. ‘How are you?’
‘I, err . . . I’m just on my way to the community centre to see if the search needed any help with anything. You know, looking for Laurel?’
‘Ahhh, yes.’ He looks a little uncomfortable, avoiding my gaze and staring intently at the tips of his shoes. ‘I’m sorry we had to move the volunteer centre from the hall. I wish we could have kept it here but . . .’ Finally, he raises his eyes to mine, an ugly red flush starting to creep up his neck. ‘I’m really am sorry, Anna, we had to get things back into a normal routine for the rest of the children.’
‘I understand. Really. It’s fine.’ It’s not. It’s the beginning of everything going back to normal, of life carrying on exactly as it did before. It won’t be long before everyone forgets about Laurel and starts to move on. ‘I’m sorry for disturbing you.’ I walk away, towards the squat, cream building that is the community centre.
As I push open the door, I notice straight away that the number of volunteers has reduced by over half since the last time I was here. The quiet murmur of chatter lowers slightly as I step into the room, people glancing up, only to look away disinterestedly when they see it is only me, and not someone more exciting. Fran, maybe. I am halfway across the room, approaching the slightly bowed trestle table where Cheryl Smythe is still in full-on action, her arms laden with flyers, a biro clamped between her teeth, when I see the last person I was expecting to see – the one person I was hoping to see.
‘Anna!’ Ella steps forward, holding out her arms to me as she pulls me into a tight hug. I stand there rigidly, her hair tickling my nose, the smell of her perfume strangely familiar. ‘Is everything all right?’ She frowns as she pulls back, holding me at arm’s length.
‘I think we need to talk.’ Pushing my hair back, I look behind me, seeing the volunteers milling about the room, all ears open to our conversation. ‘Not here though.’ I push past her and head for the door, hearing the low heels on her boots clacking across the lino floor.
‘Anna, what is it?’ Once outside, I march her round the corner, away from prying eyes. ‘Did something happen?’ Her blue eyes are wide.
‘You could say that.’ Someone is lying. Someone is not who they say they are. Someone else. The psychic’s words float through my mind. ‘Is there anything you want to tell me?’
She pauses for a moment, then blinks. ‘Like what?’
‘Seriously? Are you actually going to do this? I know, Ella. Or should I call you Pamela, like Dominic does?’
Her face goes white and her mouth opens and closes for a moment, but no sound comes out. She covers her face with her hands, and I wait, silently, for her to respond.
‘I’m so sorry, Anna.’ Eventually she speaks, her hands dropping to her sides. ‘I wanted to tell you . . . I was going to tell you but then . . .’
‘I think you need to tell me everything, Ella. Pamela. Ugh.’ I scrub my hands over my face and let her follow me away from the community centre, towards the centre of town.
*
We are tucked away in Davey’s diner, the only place I could think of where we could speak freely without being overheard. The diner is mostly frequented by groundworkers and lorry drivers, and we don’t have to run the risk of bumping into the yummy mummies the way we would in the upmarket café in town. The smell of grease and bad coffee hangs heavy in the air, and what was welcoming warmth after the wintry air outside is now stifling. Pamela pushes a piece of toast around the plate in front of her, before sipping at the tea we ordered for appearance sake.
‘So,’ I push my mug away from me and lean forward onto my elbows, ‘are you going to tell me what’s going on?’
Pamela sighs, twisting a silver ring round on her right hand. ‘It’s not how you think, Anna, I promise. I know I lied to you, but I didn’t want to . . . disrupt things any more than they already were. I can explain everything.’
‘Go on then.’ I lean back, snatching up a sugar packet from the bowl in front of me and fiddling with it, just for something to do with my hands.
‘Look, you know I was . . . Dominic and I were together before he met Fran, right?’ Pamela’s voice is low, and I have to lean forward again to be able to hear her. ‘We were together for a long time, and as far as I was aware everything was perfect. Until the baby.’
‘Baby?’ I hiss. ‘What baby?’
‘Fran didn’t tell you?’ Pamela frowns, her hand to her mouth. ‘Maybe she doesn’t know.’
Impatient, I nudge her into talking again.
‘I found out I was pr
egnant. We weren’t even trying, and then I felt sick, and tired, so I did a test and it was positive. Dom always said he never wanted children, but I thought – we’d been together for five or six years at this point, were engaged to be married – I thought once he got his head round it, it would be OK. We’d have the baby, get married and be a proper family.’
‘Obviously that didn’t happen.’ My heart softens a little at the look on her face, devastated even five years after this all happened, before I remember that she lied to me. That she could know something about Laurel’s disappearance, might even have something to do with it.
‘No. Dominic was . . . not happy, to say the least when I told him I was pregnant. Furious would be more accurate.’ Her eyes fill, and a single tear spills on to her cheek. ‘He told me that he didn’t want the baby, didn’t want to be a father, and that he’d made that perfectly clear from the word go. In his own words, he told me I’d have to choose between him and the child, that he couldn’t stay with me if I carried on with the pregnancy. I was devastated, and we rowed, ferociously. I told him I wouldn’t have an abortion and he packed my bag and told me to leave.’
‘Jesus.’ I can’t believe that Dominic could be that heartless. Then, I see in my mind’s eye the image of him grabbing Fran by the arms, the fury that was written all over his face, the way he smashed his glass across the hearth, and I think, maybe.
Pamela reaches for her mug, taking a sip of the, by now, lukewarm tea. ‘I had nowhere to go. My family disapproved of my relationship with Dominic, so I had cut all ties with them.’ That sounds familiar. I think of Fran’s face as she spoke about Polly, the way she hadn’t spoken to her sister for years because Dominic didn’t like her.
‘So, what did you do? I mean . . .’ I trail off, not wanting to say that I haven’t seen Pamela with a child.
‘I waited, to see if he would change his mind, but he didn’t contact me. I lost the baby. Nothing sinister, he or she just didn’t make it. I was sad, but in the end, I realised that I couldn’t live without him. I didn’t want to be alone, and now I knew that he would never change his mind I could make sure this never happened again. I didn’t want to fall pregnant again – I couldn’t stand the pain if I lost another baby. I went to the house to tell him that I had done what he wanted but I was too late.’
I say nothing, my brain whirring overtime trying to process everything that Pamela has told me.
‘I went to the house and Fran answered the door. In the time it had taken me to lose our child and come to terms with what I wanted in life, he had found Fran, got her pregnant and married her. He’d moved on.’ Her voice is bitter, laced with years of hurt and anger.
‘So why are you here now? Coincidence?’ I deliberately keep my face neutral, not letting her know all the things that are racing through my mind. The fact that he kept her from her family, just as he did to Fran. The idea that he never, ever wanted children.
‘I still love him. Always have.’ Pamela lets out a snort of rueful laughter. ‘I know I’m an idiot, Anna, you don’t need to look at me like that. Have you ever loved anyone so much that you feel like you’d die if you couldn’t be near them?’
I shake my head. ‘Have you been in contact with Dominic? Does he know you’re here?’
‘Of course, he does, Anna.’ Pamela frowns at me. ‘I was supposed to meet him that night.’
I have to take a moment to catch my breath, feeling as though the floor has given way slightly beneath my feet. No wonder Dominic didn’t want Fran to know where he was the night Laurel went missing. What kind of man promises to take his child to a fireworks display, then scurries off to meet his mistress instead?
‘Hang on . . . wait a minute,’ I say, holding up a hand as a thought strikes me. ‘You said you were supposed to meet him that night? Did he not show up?’
‘No.’ Pamela sighs, twisting the ring on her finger again. I realise this must be the ring Dominic gave her when he asked her to marry him. ‘I waited for him, but he didn’t show. He’d said that he was supposed to meet Fran and Laurel at the Oxbury Primary display, so I thought maybe he went straight there. I waited there too, by the front gate, but I left before the . . . before it happened.’
I remember the police saying there had been a call from a witness saying they’d seen a woman hanging out outside the front gate that night. It must have been Pamela. I look hard at her, at the lines at the corners of her blue eyes, the tiny streak of grey in the front of her blonde hair that you would never notice unless you were looking for it.
‘So, you have been seeing Dominic? Has he been cheating on Fran with you?’ Maybe Fran was right to be suspicious after all.
‘No, not as such.’ Pamela avoids my eyes, dabbing her finger into a pile of spilled sugar. ‘I bumped into him in town a couple of months ago. We had a coffee and he mentioned that things weren’t great between him and Fran. I thought . . . maybe this was my opportunity to have another chance with him. We’ve been in contact over the phone mostly, but we’ve had a drink once or twice. I know that if I simply wait, if I’m patient, then he’ll see sense. He’ll come back to me. I was his first love, Anna, we’re meant to be together.’
The conviction with which she speaks is slightly shocking, and I realise that she genuinely believes Dominic will come back to her. I wonder what he’s said to make her believe in him so wholeheartedly. ‘You texted him, saying not to worry, that this would all be over soon. What did you mean? What will all be over soon?’
‘I only meant . . . I meant that he and Fran would be over soon, that’s all. He sent me that message asking me to meet him that night and I thought . . . I thought he meant that he’d had a change of heart – seen reason, if you like. I thought this was it – he was going to tell me he’d leave Fran and be with me.’ Her hands shake as she reaches for a napkin and blows her nose. ‘I called him the next morning, not realising Laurel had gone missing. He told me what had happened the night before, he was in pieces.’ I realise that Pamela must have been who Dominic was on the phone to that first morning, when we were back at the field.
She goes on, ‘I’m not an idiot, Anna, anyone can see that Dominic and Fran aren’t right for each other. But it’s OK. I’ve waited this long, I can wait a little while longer. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you the truth, Anna, but I couldn’t.’ She pushes back her chair and snatches up her coat, thrusting her arms into the sleeves.
‘Pamela, I have to ask you this. Have you got any idea what might have happened to Laurel? Did you have anything to do with her going missing?’ My stomach flips as I make my accusation, my heart thudding in my throat.
‘What?’ Pamela looks at me in disgust. ‘No, Anna, I had absolutely nothing to do with what happened to Laurel.’ And as she stumbles out of the diner, tripping over the leg of a chair left thrust out into the walkway, I believe that she doesn’t know anything about Laurel’s disappearance. But I’m starting to think that maybe Dominic does.
Fran’s face is white when I let myself back into the house, having walked the long way home from the diner, trying to process everything I have heard from Pamela. Some of what she said seems to confirm that I don’t really know Dominic as well as I thought I did, and the thought makes my stomach swoop, as though I’m on the last leg of a giant rollercoaster. The idea of Dominic demanding that she abort their baby leaves a nasty, bitter taste in my mouth, and I wonder how he dealt with Laurel being born. Maybe he never wanted her either? The implications of that thought make my mouth go dry, and I lick anxiously at my lips.
‘Anna, you’re back.’ Fran grasps me by the arm and pulls me into the living room, where Dominic sits, his face grey and exhausted, next to Kelly on the sofa. DS Wright stands in front of the window. ‘DS Wright wants to speak to us . . . no, no, don’t look like that! It’s not Laurel.’ Her voice cracks on Laurel’s name. I follow her into the room, standing in the corner on shaky legs.
‘OK,’ Wright looks from Fran to Dominic, her eyes kind despite her tough exterior,
‘we want to do a brief statement from you to the press.’ Dominic goes to speak, but Fran presses the back of his hand, her fingers leaving a white mark. ‘First, something from me to update them on where we are with the investigation – as you know, the reconstruction did throw up some new leads, so we’d like to appeal to the public to come forward if they have anything else to add to this new information, and then a brief sentence from the two of you, appealing to whoever has taken Laurel. I know this is very hard on you both, but it’s something we need to do. If we can appeal to him or her, make them appear human, then there’s every chance that we will get some response to that.’
It sounds like a load of rubbish to me – whoever has taken Laurel, whoever could steal a child away from their family has to be somewhat inhuman, don’t they? I say nothing, just wait as Fran and Dominic obey orders and get to their feet, ready to step outside and face the press on their own territory this time.
As they step out on to the doorstep, my heart stutters in my chest and I feel my palms grow damp and clammy. The flashes from the cameras almost blind me, and I pull back into the living room, anxious not to be caught on film. It’s been hard enough keeping out of sight of the press as it is, there is no way I want to appear on the front page of tomorrow’s newspapers. Wiping my hands on my jeans, I peer through the living room blinds as DS Wright stands on the step, making her speech. Then, she steps aside, letting Fran and Dominic take centre stage as she steps around the press pack, taking up a position slightly behind and to the left of the them, her eyes trained on the Jessops as they stand there, Kelly beside them.
‘Whoever has Laurel,’ Fran starts haltingly, a small nervous smile on her face, ‘whoever has our daughter, please bring her home. She belongs with me, with us.’ She takes a deep breath, but seems unable to carry on, holding a tissue to her face as her shoulders begin to heave. Dominic takes over.
‘Please, bring her home. We love her and miss her so much. Life isn’t the same without her. We need her home, so please, please let her come back to us.’ His voice is calm and steady, and he gently squeezes Fran’s shoulder as they turn to come back indoors.