The Night She Disappeared

by Lisa Jewell

  Tallulah doesn’t know what to say. “God, that’s horrible. Are you OK?”

  Scarlett stirs her hot chocolate and shrugs. “I don’t know. I felt, like, raw… exposed after. I didn’t know who I was or what I was. I kept thinking I’d wake up the next morning and I’d feel normal but I never did. I couldn’t tell my mum; I couldn’t tell anyone. I finally snapped one day, thought I was having a nervous breakdown, called Liam, begged him to come over. I was going to tell him everything. But then he got there and all I wanted to do was just climb into his arms and hold on to him and let him rock me. But every time I closed my eyes I felt Guy’s hand over my mouth; I felt him on me. Every time I looked at Toby I’d think, you were there. You were a witness. What did you see? What did you think? Did he rape me? Am I a victim? Or am I a whore…?”

  Scarlett rubs tears from her face with the backs of her hands. She sighs and drops the teaspoon, picks up her hot chocolate, and drinks it.

  Tallulah puts her hand against her arm and says, “That sounds like a nightmare.”

  Scarlett nods forcefully. “Yes,” she says. “Yes. That’s exactly it. Exactly. The setting, the dusk. The unexpectedness of it. The way he disappeared afterward. No one ever talked about him; I never heard his name mentioned. Like maybe he’d never really existed; maybe he was just a figment of my imagination. It had that quality of a really unsettling dream, one of those ones that haunts you for days afterward, and I was lost, just totally lost, until that moment a few weeks later when the doorbell rang on a Sunday morning and there you were. Tallulah from the bus, come to save me.”

  She stops talking then, and Tallulah glances at her curiously. It feels, strangely, as though she has something else to share with her, as if she hasn’t quite finished off-loading.

  “And that was that?”

  Scarlett nods forcefully. “Yes,” she says. “And that was that.”

  * * *

  It’s nearly half past four when Tallulah leaves the pub. She feels warped and out of sorts. She glances at her phone briefly to check that nobody’s been trying to get hold of her and then she puts it in her jeans pocket and starts across the common. As she does so she glances across at Maypole House. Somewhere in there, she ponders, is Jacinta Croft, the woman whose husband Scarlett had a tawdry affair with last summer. Somewhere in there is Liam Bailey, the man Scarlett cheated on with the head teacher’s husband. And here she is, Tallulah Murray, a local teenage mum having her first gay love affair, and over there—she glances at her own home—is a boy called Zach Allister, who is the father of her child, and somewhere else is her own father, who loves his mother more than he loves his wife and children, and over there—she glances at the road out of the village—are Megs and Simon Allister, parents to five children, none of whom they know how to love properly. And over there, beyond the village, are the woods: the shadowy half-world where Scarlett may or may not have been raped by a man old enough to be her father. And there are no answers to anything, anywhere, no clear paths through. The only thing, she ponders as she walks, the only thing that is clear and plain and simple, is Noah.

  She picks up her pace as she gets closer to home, desperate to hold him in her arms. As she nears the cul-de-sac she hears the familiar rumble of the bus pulling up at the stop outside the Maypole. The doors hiss open and she sees a familiar shape climb off the bus and turn left. It’s Zach. He’s late home from work; she thought he’d be back by now. That explains why she hasn’t had any messages or missed calls from him. She picks up her pace and catches up with him. As he turns and looks at her, his face contorts slightly and she sees him stuff something into the pocket of his jacket, a small bag. She pretends not to have noticed and smiles as she approaches him. He seems so thrown by her having almost caught him with something that he didn’t want her to see that he has not noticed she is returning home late and from the wrong direction.

  “You’re late back,” she says.

  “Yeah. I went into town after work. Needed a new phone charger.”

  They pause to cross the road to let a car pass by. It’s Kerryanne Mulligan, the matron from the Maypole. She knows everyone and everyone knows her. She puts her hand up and waves at them from the window. They wave back. As they enter the house, Zach takes off his jacket, hangs it from a hook, and goes straight through to the living room, where she can hear him cooing at Noah. She quickly puts her hand inside the pocket of Zach’s coat and pulls out the bag. It’s a dark green plastic carrier bag with the words MASON & SON FINE JEWELLERY printed on it. She peers inside and sees a small black box with the same logo printed on it in gold. She’s about to open the box when she feels someone appear in the hallway. She stuffs the bag back in the pocket and looks up. It’s her mum.

  “Are you OK, baby? You’re late back.”

  She forces a smile. “I’m fine,” she says. “Exam started late, overran a bit.” She smiles again and moves away from Zach’s jacket, which now feels as though it is sending out radioactive particles that could burn her flesh, and heads into the living room, where Noah is in Zach’s arms and Zach is kissing his fingers and blowing raspberries into the palm of his hand, and even though she didn’t open the box, she knows what’s in it and she feels for a moment like she can’t breathe, like someone is sitting on her chest, because she knows what it means and she knows that Zach will never ever leave her, that he is just pretending to be making plans to go. He’s playing a game with her, she realizes, keeping her sweet, keeping her onside, biding his time.

  Noah’s face opens up into a huge gappy smile when he sees Tallulah and he puts his arms out to her. She grabs him from Zach and tries not to flinch when Zach encircles the two of them inside his arms, trying to make a family of them, trying to make them one.

  44

  SEPTEMBER 2018

  The doorbell to Sophie’s cottage rings; it’s an old-fashioned doorbell, the type you don’t hear very often in these days of apps and electric chimes. It’s incredibly loud and it makes Sophie jump out of her skin every time she hears it.

  Kim is standing at the front door.

  “Sorry,” says Sophie, clutching her heart as she opens the door, “that bell always make me jump. Sorry. Come in.”

  Kim follows Sophie into the kitchen and watches her fill the kettle at the tap. “I just spoke to Dom,” she says. “He still hasn’t looked at the clip of the Amelia girl. It’s so frustrating. I know the police are doing everything they can, but the more time passes the slower things seem to move. I just thought, you seem to have a different view on things. I mean, you found that video of Mimi, and being a detective novelist…” She smiles wryly. “I don’t know, there are just some bits and pieces that I’ve been trying to put together in my head. Flashes of stuff.”

  “Like what?”

  “Oh, like, you know, the day after they went missing, I went to talk to Tallulah’s college friend, her name’s Chloe, she lives just over there on the road out of the village. Church Lane. I always thought she and Tallulah were really close friends. There was one night when Tallulah even slept over with her because she thought Chloe was feeling suicidal. So she was obviously the first person I’d think of to ask. Tallulah didn’t have many friends, you know. She was so wrapped up with Noah—and with Zach too, to a certain extent. Anyway, I spoke to Chloe and she said not only were she and Tallulah not really friends anymore, she also told me that Tallulah had never spent the night at her house, and that Tallulah had gone off with Scarlett Jacques at the Christmas party the year before. Yet Scarlett was so adamant that she and Tallulah hadn’t really known each other before that night. And then, just now, just before I messaged you, I remembered something. Something that didn’t really hit me at the time. I’d been to see the Jacques family the day before and Scarlett had just got out of the pool and she was sitting in a towel and I noticed, just here”—Kim points at the side of her foot—“she had a tattoo and it was very clearly the initials TM.”

  Sophie looks at Kim questioningly.

  �
�TM. Tallulah Murray. And now, you know, my head is spinning, replaying things, looking at everything from a different angle, because what if Tallulah and Scarlett were, you know, having an affair? And what if Zach had found out? And what if it all came out that night, at Scarlett’s house. And what if—” She stops. “Anyway. Things are happening. I know things are happening. The lever they found in the flower bed. I’m certain it’s got something to do with it. I know they’re trying to trace the Jacques family and I know lots and lots of things are happening, but it just feels like we’re getting so close now and I can’t push Dom any harder and I just really need someone to bounce off. There isn’t really anyone else, you know. I mean, don’t get me wrong, I’ve got friends. I’ve got my son. But I haven’t really got anyone else who might want to get sucked up into all of this with me. And I just wondered how you’d feel about maybe teaming up with me? I know that might sound a bit weird—”

  “No,” Sophie interjects forcefully. “No, it doesn’t sound weird, not at all, it sounds great. To be honest, I’ve been wanting to help you but I didn’t want you to think I was being morbid or ghoulish.”

  Kim smiles. “I would love for you to help me. I really would. And I thought it seems like you’re quite up on social media, that kind of thing? And maybe we could see what else we can find? Maybe see if we can’t get to the Jacques family before the police do?”

  Sophie nods. “Yes,” she says, her heart beginning to race slightly with excitement. “Yes.” She goes to the front hallway and grabs her laptop, brings it to the kitchen table, and opens it wide. “Let’s find these people.”

  Kim and Sophie sit side by side at the kitchen table, Sophie poised in front of the laptop. They look at Mimi’s video again on YouTube and scroll down to see if there are any new messages in the comments section. There are three. They scan them quickly. The last one chills them. It’s from someone called Cherry and it says, simply:

  Take this down NOW.

  45

  JUNE 2017

  Small gestures of physical affection start to proliferate over the next couple of days.

  Zach tucks a strand of her hair behind her ear for her, runs his fingers across the back of her neck, slings an arm across the baby in bed at night that somehow encompasses Tallulah also. The gestures aren’t sexual and they are so fleeting that she barely has time to register them and complain. She sees her mother’s face sometimes, when she catches a glimpse of one of these encounters, the flash of a warm smile, no doubt thinking how lucky Tallulah is to have such a loving, attentive man in her life. But the gestures make Tallulah’s flesh crawl. She wants to slap his hand away, hiss at him to fuck off. And all the while, the memory of the little black box in his jacket pocket pulses through her consciousness like an insistent, low-level alarm going off somewhere in the distance. She can feel it in the air, the buildup to it. Every time Zach clears his throat or calls her name she catches her breath, terrified that he is about to propose to her.

  And then, one sunny June afternoon, he glances up at her from where’s he’s lying on the bed with his laptop and he says, “You know. I’ve been thinking. I’ve been too obsessed with this flat. Too obsessed with saving up. I’m thinking I might like to splash a bit of cash.” He smiles at her. His tone is light and playful. “How about a night at the pub? You and me? My treat?”

  “Well,” she begins carefully, “I can’t really at the moment. I’ve still got so much work to do for my exams.”

  He sits upright, eyes her eagerly. “When’s your last exam?”

  She shrugs. “Friday next week.”

  “Right, then,” he says, “that Friday. We’re going to the pub. I’ll talk to your mum about sitting with Noah. And I’ll book us a table.”

  Her heart sinks. This is it. “Oh,” she says lightly. “Honestly. Don’t waste your money on me. I’ll be shattered that night; I’ll be shit company. Why don’t you go with your mates?”

  He shakes his head. “No way! I’m not paying for my mates to get wankered. No, just you and me. It’s a date.”

  Her gaze must have betrayed her thoughts as he moves across the bed toward her. “No pressure,” he says, taking her hands inside his. “No big deal. Just a nice night out because we deserve it. OK?”

  She doesn’t have the energy to counter so she nods and forces a smile and she thinks that she will cross the bridge when she gets to it. And at least this way she won’t be living on her nerves expecting the proposal any moment. At least this way she has some breathing space, some time to prepare. And then he kisses her hands before letting them go again. “I’ll leave you to get on with it,” he says. “I’ll do Noah’s dinner. Yeah?”

  She nods. “Yes,” she says. “Yes, please. Thank you.”

  He leaves the room, pulling the door closed quietly behind him, a gesture so incredibly unlike Zach, who usually engages inanimate objects forcefully and noisily, that it chills her to the bone.

  * * *

  The following day at college she finds Scarlett at lunchtime.

  She takes her to the path at the back of the art block and says, “I think Zach is going to propose to me.”

  “What?”

  “He bought a ring. I found it in his pocket. And now he wants to take me out on a date next week. And he’s being just super nice and attentive and sweet.”

  “Oh fuck, Lula. What are you going to do? Please tell me you’re going to say no.”

  “Of course I’m going to say no. Of course I am. But then what? He’ll go mental. He’ll threaten to take Noah away from me. He’ll make my life hell. The only reason he’s being so nice is so that I’ll say yes. Or that if I say no, he’ll be justified to go nuts.”

  “It doesn’t matter,” says Scarlett, clasping Tallulah’s arm. “It does not matter what he says or what he thinks or how he reacts. You owe him nothing. That baby is yours. Your destiny is yours. He’ll just need to accept that no means no and move on.”

  Tallulah nods. But she’s not convinced. Noah is hers, but he’s Zach’s too. And Zach is the sort of father who a boy should grow up around: physically affectionate, loving, hard-working, loyal, reliable; a good role model. For a crazy moment she wishes Zach were more like the young deadbeat dads beloved of the tabloid press, the ones who spread their seed and move on, the ones who forget birthdays and don’t turn up for access visits. She’d have no qualms about keeping Noah out of his life then. She wouldn’t feel guilty about forcing them to live apart, for whittling Zach’s relationship with his son down to rushed weekend visits in a lonely flat.

  “But what if he can’t move on?” she says. “What if he doesn’t take no for an answer? What if he makes a scene? What if Noah never forgives me? What if I regret it?”

  “Regret it?” Scarlett repeats incredulously. “How on earth would you regret not marrying a guy you don’t love? Who wants to trap you in a box somewhere? Are you mad?”

  Tallulah shakes her head. “No, but it’s just… I don’t know. Think how many women, girls, would love the chance to be a proper family. Would love a guy who’s prepared to put his family before everything. And if I say no, that would be like saying no to some people’s dream.”

  “Yes. But not your dream, FFS. Not your dream. Tallulah.” Scarlett looks hard at her. “What do you want? What’s your goal in life? Once you’ve finished college? Once your baby’s at nursery? Where do you picture yourself?”

  Tallulah raises her gaze to the sky. She can feel herself starting to bubble up somehow, like treacle in a pan, just on the edge of burning. Overhead a fat white cloud passes slowly across the sun. She stares into the heart of it, where the sun burns a pale hole through it. She clenches her hands into fists and then relaxes them again. It’s a question she’s always been too scared to ask herself. All her life she’s been passive. Her school reports always said she was a good student but that the teacher would love to see her contribute more to lessons, would love to hear her voice. At primary school she allowed herself to be subsumed into friendship
groups with children she didn’t really like. And then she’d met Zach at a difficult age, an age where her contemporaries were stressing about Saturday-night plans failing to materialize, about boys not replying to their messages quick enough or female friends talking shit about them behind their backs. Having a steady boyfriend had just allowed her to get on with studying, get on with life, get on with putting one foot in front of the other, mindlessly, unthinkingly, day after day after day. Until the day she’d realized she hadn’t had a period for more than a month and she’d bought a test from the internet and taken it on a Tuesday morning just before school at the beginning of her second year in the sixth form and seen the two lines and immediately taken another test and thought: Well, there it is. I’m pregnant. She’d mentally calculated a due date that was well beyond the date of her last A-level exam and thought, Maybe I should just have it. Because that was the sort of girl that Tallulah was. Her mother might have blessed her with the name of a rebel and a river and a film star, but she had failed to live up to it. She had failed to do anything genuinely proactive until the moment she had leaped across Scarlett’s kitchen that morning after their sleepover and kissed her. It was, she knew, the only moment in her entire life that she had made happen.