by M. A. Hunter
Freddie’s eyes dance about as he searches for answers. ‘I just don’t know. Turgood didn’t take us anywhere but the film studios. Most of the time, he was abusive at the boys’ home. The trips to the film studios were few and far between. We never came this far south that I can recall.’
This isn’t what I was hoping to hear, and all I can visualise are the grains of sand slipping away.
‘Can you remember anything else about that time? Maybe something that you overheard, or somewhere others said they’d been or came from? Anything, Freddie. Please? I’m desperate. If I don’t find her, I’m worried they’ll have her killed.’
‘I wish I could help, Emma, God knows I do, but I can’t think of anywhere. Would she go to the film studios?’
‘It’s just a building site now though. There’s nothing there for her.’
My hands fly up to the side of my hair as a headache grows. It’s like I can see her across a gorge, and she is crying out for my help, but is just out of reach. I need a way of crossing but I can’t find a bridge.
‘What about that other girl?’ Freddie says. ‘You know, the French one you interviewed. She was held prisoner for thirteen years, right? Maybe she can shed some light on the subject.’
It’s as if Freddie has just lit a bulb in my mind. Of course, all these years I’ve been striving to find Anna I’ve been doing it alone. I have contacts now, and research is the key to great writing.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Now
Weymouth, Dorset
We decamp to my place. With no phone, my only chance of getting in touch with Aurélie Lebrun and Zara Edwards is via my laptop. Rachel’s mouth drops as Freddie and I come in through the door. Dropping my satchel on the sofa, I grab my laptop from its usual place on the desk and carry it through to the central table in the living room.
‘Make yourself comfortable,’ I tell Freddie, who lifts the straps of the soup warmer from his back and rests it against the wall behind the door.
‘What’s going on?’ Rachel asks, her reporter’s nose twitching at the adrenaline fumes filling the room.
I don’t look up from the laptop screen as it whirs to life and I wait to type in my credentials. ‘I’m going to set up a video call with Aurélie Lebrun and Zara Edwards. The two of them and Freddie all had dealings with the ring as far as we’re aware. Maybe between the three of them, and what I know about Anna as a child, we can narrow down where she might run to.’
I catch Rachel nodding in my periphery. ‘There’ve been no updates on the news, though I did re-watch that Chief Superintendent’s announcement. He also said they’ve checked Daisy Beauchamp’s computer and found evidence that Anna may have been in contact with her via chatrooms. They’re saying there are a variety of conversations between Daisy and someone anonymous who encourages her to run away. I assume there’s something to make them think that Anna is behind the anonymous account, but he didn’t elaborate.’ She pauses. ‘Em, I don’t believe it, but the way he sounded… there was no sense of innocent until proven guilty. Anna is very much the only person in the frame for this, and it sounded like they were trying to swing public opinion ahead of any potential trial. As it finished, I found myself thinking she sounded guilty as hell.’
I don’t want to think about the machinations going on behind the scenes. If I were looking to run a smear campaign against someone I feared could expose dirty secrets, this is precisely the sort of route I’d want to follow.
‘We have to find her first then,’ I say vehemently. ‘She needs her family.’
‘I’ll put the kettle on,’ Rachel says, with just a hint of self-reproach. ‘Tea? Coffee?’
I glance up and mouth thank you. As always, she doesn’t judge or criticise, just offers her support and encouragement. I don’t deserve a friend as loyal as Rachel.
‘Coffee, please,’ I tell her, returning my attention to the screen and looking for the Zoom app.
‘It’s good to see you, Freddie,’ I hear Rachel saying. ‘Tea or coffee?’
‘Tea, no milk, please.’
We both look at him at the same time.
‘I decided to become vegan,’ he says with a nonchalant shrug.
Rachel heads out to the kitchen and I can hear her filling the kettle.
‘Do you have a map of the area in question?’ Freddie asks, joining me on the sofa. ‘It might help to see the names of the towns under consideration.’
It’s a good point, and I open an internet search window, typing in Hampshire, Wiltshire, and Dorset. A moment later, the screen fills with the three counties, but it isn’t easy to read the names of the largest towns. It is such a huge area; no wonder the police haven’t found her yet, even with three forces hunting. Someone who’s managed to keep herself hidden for twenty-one years must have picked up a few tricks along the way.
Aurélie is the first to join the call I’ve set up, and I introduce her to Freddie.
‘I tried to phone you,’ she says straightaway. ‘Have you seen the news? Police are looking for someone called Anna Hunter in connection with a child abduction in Southampton. Do you think she could be your sister?’
I’m amazed at how natural Aurélie’s English comprehension now sounds. A French accent is slowly returning to her voice after spending several months back in her homeland, yet when I first met her it seemed as though she understood nothing of what I said to her. She’s subsequently explained why she hid so much on those first days after she escaped from the bolthole where she’d been held for thirteen years.
‘That’s why I’m calling,’ I explain, as Zara’s face appears next on the screen.
‘Emma? Hi, is everything okay?’ she asks, concern darkening her eyelids.
‘I need both of your help,’ I begin. ‘My sister has finally appeared, but is in trouble. The police are seeking her in connection with the murder of Anthony Tomlinson in Market Harborough yesterday, and this morning’s abduction of Daisy Beauchamp. Whilst I can’t say for certain, my gut tells me these two acts are not born out of malice, but are some attempt to expose the ring for all their nefarious activities over the years. I’m gathering the three of you together because you each suffered at their hands, and I need your insight to help me better understand my sister’s mindset.’
I share my screen so they can all see the map. ‘Anna was identified stealing a car here, in Highfield, Southampton,’ I hover the cursor over the area, ‘which is at the northern point of the city, close to the M3 motorway. The car is next seen at the bus stop where Daisy was waiting for a bus to school. There are no reports that Daisy was forced into the car, and given that the police have now suggested prior communication between the two of them, it is assumed Daisy went willingly, whether under false pretences or not.’
Rachel comes into the room and places our mugs on the table beside the laptop before sitting in the single armchair just off screen.
‘A traffic camera saw the car joining the A31 in a westerly direction, but it then disappears. Given the number of minor roads leading to areas of the New Forest, I suppose this isn’t too much of a surprise. But the question is: where is she now? Put yourselves in her shoes; if you were seeking revenge against the men responsible, but you needed a place to hide, where would you go?’
Nobody speaks.
I just hope that means they’re thinking.
A minute passes.
‘Aurélie, when we spoke last month, you said you remembered being taken to a building in London with a bronze statue of a lion outside of it.’
‘Oui.’
‘Have you had any memories return of other places you might have been taken to?’
Her brow furrows on the screen. ‘I don’t know… Before I arrived in Poole, I have flashes of places I lived before, but we were blindfolded when moved from place to place. As far as I know, they could have taken us out of one building, driven us around, and then returned us to the same building. We wouldn’t know.’
‘We?’ I press.
&nb
sp; ‘Yes, I vaguely remember there being other girls held with me.’
‘I remember there being other girls too,’ Zara chimes in. ‘When I was first taken, I was kept in a dark cell, but each mealtime I would be led into a large hall with other girls; they would sit us in a big circle and make us eat rice or pasta, and then we would be returned to our cells. None of us were allowed to speak, but I don’t know where we were.’
‘I don’t know about any of that,’ Aurélie challenges, ‘but I remember there being lavish parties, and being in rooms with other boys and girls who would then be taken away by older men.’
I feel Freddie tense beside me, and I rest a hand on his knee.
‘The day I was bought by my captor,’ Aurélie continues, ‘I’m sure I recognised Big Ben on the horizon, but we were near water. I think we were by London docklands, but I can’t be certain.’
‘I’m not worried about London,’ I interrupt, the irritation seeping through my words. ‘I just need to know about possible locations in these three counties.’ I sit back and let out the sigh that’s been building in my chest. ‘Please? I need to find her, and you three are my only hope.’
‘You said she was spotted heading west on the A31,’ Freddie says quietly. ‘Are you sure she isn’t headed down this way to see you? Does she know you’re her sister?’
I think back to Saira Mistry’s revelation yesterday. ‘She knows, but according to her solicitor she has no interest in a reunion… At least, not yet.’
Aurélie scoffs. ‘That doesn’t mean she wouldn’t come to you in desperation. Why would she tell anyone her true intentions? If she was always planning on abducting Daisy Beauchamp, she would surely leave a trail of breadcrumbs to mislead the authorities and the ring?’
It’s a fair point. I’m only assuming she’s in one of these three counties because DI Oakley said that’s where the police are focusing their attention. Heading west on the A31 could just as easily be a smokescreen, and maybe that’s why there’s been no trace of her on traffic cameras since. This could all be a waste of time. My heart sinks.
‘Pendark studios is in Newbury in Berkshire,’ Freddie says next, ‘and that seemed to be something of a hub, so maybe there are places near that area that were used for holding children. Can we look at the map and see what places are close to that?’
I drag the cursor over the map until Newbury appears on the right of the screen, before zooming in slightly.
‘How many girls would you estimate were in the feeding hall with you?’ Freddie asks Zara.
‘Um, I’m not sure,’ she replies. ‘Twenty? Maybe thirty? It’s hard to remember.’
‘Okay, so we’d be looking for somewhere twenty to thirty girls could be held where nosey neighbours wouldn’t oversee or overhear what was going on,’ Freddie continues. ‘And it would need to be relatively close to the studios in Newbury for convenience. Turgood used to drive us from the St Francis Home in Banbury down to Newbury for those parties. Maybe there were other similar sites is what I’m saying.’
Rachel sits forward. ‘But why would she go anywhere like that? I’m sorry, but in my mind that makes no sense. We’re assuming these actions are her efforts to expose the monsters responsible for her captivity, but what if she’s just trying to lie low? Maybe she didn’t expect the police to know she was responsible for taking Daisy. Em, I don’t think you should be thinking about places she’s been since she disappeared. Think about places your sister would go where she’d feel safe. Maybe she is coming to Weymouth, but if she has any sense, she would avoid anywhere associated with you. If she knows her name has been shared on the news, surely she’d expect the police to come here first? What can you tell us about the Anna you remember?’
I open my mouth to speak, but I’ve already been down this route. When Oakley was here earlier I tried to think of anywhere Anna would run to, but drew a blank. The laptop beeps, warning that the battery is running low. Standing, I move to my desk to fetch the charging cable, but it’s buried beneath papers and I have to shuffle things about to locate it. The book of Elinor Wylie poems drops open.
Anna’s favourite book of poetry. I’ve lost count of the number of times I’ve subsequently read each entry, searching for answers, but have found none. I hold the book up for Rachel and Freddie to see.
‘I don’t suppose Elinor Wylie ever came to the UK, did she?’
Freddie shrugs while Rachel unlocks her phone and searches. I drop the book back on the desk and drag the cable back to the laptop.
‘According to Wikipedia,’ Rachel says excitedly, but rolls her eyes at her choice of source, ‘following the death of her father in 1910, Elinor Wylie eloped to England with her future husband Horace, and spent a couple of years here. She was married at the time, and her life was littered with scandal, but yes. she did come here for a period… The site doesn’t state where in England she was based, but I’ll keep searching.’
Something is stirring in the back of my mind, but I can’t quite connect the pieces. Moving the cursor over the map, I search the other towns printed in bold on the screen. Reading, Basingstoke, Winchester, Alton, Andover, Salisbury, Warminster, Dorchester, Bournemouth. I freeze as something else stirs in the back of my mind. My interest in reading and literature started before I can remember, but as I picture young Anna, I can’t imagine her now without one book or another in her hands. It was she who encouraged my passion for reading. Whilst she loved Elinor Wylie’s poetic voice, she devoured Jane Austen over and over, despite her relatively young age.
Six months before her disappearance, Mum and Dad took us to a large country house estate with enormous green lawns that Anna and I ran around while my parents ate the picnic lunch Mum had packed. Something in the back of my head tells me that Jane Austen was connected with this place, and that we’d come as part of Anna’s birthday present. Had Austen lived there? The answer is so close; it’s on the tip of my tongue.
‘According to this site, Wylie spent part of her time in London and part in Winchester,’ Rachel continues, reading from her screen. ‘And whilst her exact location isn’t known, there are references to Chawton House in the letters she sent back to family in the US.
My eyes widen. ‘That’s it! My parents took us to Chawton House before Anna disappeared. She was obsessed with Elinor Wylie and Jane Austen.’
Rachel doesn’t look convinced.
‘Think about it,’ I say, playing the idea through my head, searching for doubts. ‘When she was arrested, she gave the name Kylie Shakespeare. She was carrying one of my books, even though she didn’t know we were related. She headed west on the A31 to mislead the police, so that she could double back and follow camera-free roads to Alton in Hampshire.’
‘It’s two hours away,’ Rachel tells me. ‘Are you sure? It’s a long way to go if you’re wrong.’
I fix her with a certain stare. ‘What’s the alternative? Sit here and wait to hear that she’s been arrested, or shot on sight? You heard what that Chief Superintendent said. He claimed she was armed and dangerous; do you really think she’ll be arrested and brought in quietly? Please, Rach, drive us to Alton. I might be wrong, but I have to try something.’
Chapter Twenty-Five
Then
Swanage, Dorset
Emma turned to a fresh page, but paused when she realised it was the start of a new chapter. Glancing over to where her dad was gently snoring in his faux leather armchair, she let out a quiet sigh of dissatisfaction. He’d refused to bring her back here that first day her mum had taken her over to Swanage for a formal visit, but six months on, he was less concerned about putting on airs and graces. Every visit now started the same way: a trip to the local Wimpy restaurant for a burger and fries, followed by an ice cream on the way back to the one-room bedsit.
It had felt exciting the first time she’d come here. Although it was small, she’d gasped when he’d shown her how his bed pushed up so that it became part of the wall. She’d never seen anything like it before, and had thoug
ht how much extra space it would give in her room if her own bed could be pushed into the wall. The kitchen area was small, yet large enough for a microwave, kettle, and small sink, and whilst her dad had seemed embarrassed by the meagre possessions, she’d been proud that he was managing to survive despite the upheaval of the separation from her mum.
Bronwyn hadn’t seen the place, and when asked how it was, Emma kept her dad’s secret and only mentioned the positive aspects, namely: it was on the ground floor, within walking distance of a park and playground, and there was a stray cat that would visit whenever she was there. She didn’t tell her mum that there was a horrible smell in the bedsit, that it was up a very steep hill, or that she had to sit on a cushion on the floor because there was only one chair, which her dad sat in.
He was trying his best, and wouldn’t benefit from her mother’s critical eye. It couldn’t be easy, Emma figured, to cover the rent on two properties, and he hadn’t ever complained about the state of his digs, or that he received no financial contribution from Bronwyn’s part-time job. He always asked after her, whether she was happy, whether she was struggling for cash, and whether she was taking good care of her. Emma responded resolutely every time that life at home was fine; Mum was trying her best to feed and clothe her while continuing her search for Anna. He never asked about Anna, and whenever Emma would mention her name, he’d look away or start a new topic of conversation. After her fourth visit, she stopped mentioning Anna too.
She’d been surprised to learn that her parents weren’t the only ones to have separated, and after Bronwyn had told Emma’s teacher, she’d admitted that her parents had divorced when she was a child. And it turned out that Cindy’s parents had both remarried and shared custody of Cindy, with her dad having her at weekends. Emma didn’t like to admit that she only saw her dad once a month, and avoided sharing details of what their visits amounted to.