by M. A. Hunter
He tops up his glass and drains more than half of it, his words now starting to slur. ‘I refused to comply. Told him just to tell the prison governor or the police and leave me to take my chances. But he didn’t like that, and then Anna went missing. At first I didn’t connect the two incidents, until he then said he’d made a recommendation to an acquaintance and that the only way I’d get Anna back was to go ahead with the heist. I didn’t believe him until a package mysteriously appeared in my locker at work. It was the top Anna had been wearing the day she disappeared. I was going to take it to the police, but it would be my word against his, and it wasn’t like I knew where she was. I tried for so long to resist, but they kept ramping up the pressure, so I did the only thing I could… I went along with the robbery.
‘I only had to drive the van away, so it never really felt like I was doing anything wrong. I was convinced someone would screw up and they’d get caught inside and at least I’d get away, but it all went like clockwork. They were in and out in minutes without any alarm being triggered, and I was back home in bed just after midnight. Winnie never had a clue what I’d done. If she knew any of my bullshit, she never would have looked at me twice.’
He shuffles forward in his seat, pulling out a packet of cigarettes and lighting one, the exhaled smoke making the footage even less clear.
‘When I next saw him inside, I demanded to know where Anna was, but he started saying that there’d been some trouble with her. At a party somewhere, she’d caused a lot of embarrassment and she’d been moved, and he didn’t know where to. I was furious, and I told him I would tell the police everything, and that’s when he threatened Emma. Said if I so much as looked the wrong way, he’d have the same people come for Emma, and then I’d have both their deaths on my hands. If I can get close enough to him… threaten him somehow… or offer him enough money, then maybe I can get her back and keep them away from us for good. I still remember the faces of who I saw at that film studio, and I know how much they’ll give to keep their pasts a secret.
‘And that’s why I’m now making this video. I don’t care what’s going to become of me in the future, so long as I keep what’s left of this family safe. There needs to be a record of how we ended up in this mess. It’s all my fault, and I don’t…’
He suddenly stands and heads to the kitchen door, opening it a crack, as if he can hear something on the other side, before hurrying back, and the screen cuts to the same black, grey, and white static. I leave it playing for a minute in case there’s more footage, but Anna eventually tells me to switch it off.
I don’t know what to say. I want to comfort Anna, but no words will be enough, and I want to shout and swear and scream that that wasn’t my dad on the tape; it must have been some lookalike whose voice just happened to have the same rhythmic burr as my dad’s. But it couldn’t have been him. My dad was a sweet, and warm, and loving man. He wasn’t perfect, and my memories of him have probably been rose-tinted following his tragic early death, but the man I knew and loved couldn’t have been capable of such horrific actions.
And yet…
When I consider how the tragedy I’ve witnessed over these last few years, from Freddie Mitchell to Cassie Hilliard, Natalie Sullivan to Sally Curtis, Aurélie Lebrun to Jemima Hooper, Jo-Jo Neville to Zara Edwards, all were let down by parents or guardians or betrayed by those charged with caring for them… should I even be surprised by this revelation?
Anna turns and moves to the bay window, but even from here I can see she is wiping her eyes. I know there’s nothing I can say or do, and I’m not even going to attempt to add context to the confession we just watched. My fingers entangle as I take a deep breath and invoke my inner Rachel. Appearing behind Anna I put my arms around her and hold her still. At first she shuffles and battles to break my grip, but I’ve lost her before and there is nothing in this world that’s going to stop me holding onto her this time.
‘I know you probably don’t want my love and support, Anna, but whether you want to believe it or not, we are sisters, and I am going to fight every day to give you a better life than you’ve had.’
She balks and tries to break my hold again, but it is as firm as it can be.
‘We will bring all of them to justice. I swear I won’t stop fighting until every single name on that hard drive has been exposed. The world will know what they have done, but I’m not going anywhere. We only have each other. Please let me in. Nothing you can say or do will frighten me off.’
We both start as Ken clears his throat just inside the door. ‘I’m so pleased to see you found each other. Your mum always used to say you wouldn’t give up, Emma. I take it you watched the tape?’
I’m still holding onto Anna, and I feel compelled to show her just how much stronger I am than the little brat she may or may not remember.
‘Did Mum know?’ I say, the sob so close.
‘Honestly I don’t know. Shortly after your dad’s passing, she asked me to look into the names of prisoners under your dad’s care at the prison, with the possibility that one or two could have had something to do with Anna’s abduction. It wasn’t an easy job back then, and I gave it my best go, but there was nothing conclusive. She never let on why she asked me to do it, and when I told her I hadn’t found anything, all she said was to keep looking. When she brought those boxes over, she asked me to pass them on to you, Emma, once she’d passed, in case there was anything useful in your quest. I never actually thought I’d survive her. She was an incredibly strong woman, your mum, and when I see your name mentioned on the news, Emma, I always think of her. You’re far more like her than you realise. And as I said at the start, I truly am sorry for your loss.’
Anna’s shoulders soften and I allow her to turn until we are facing each other. She pulls me into her embrace. ‘Did you mean what you said? About exposing every one of those names?’
I pull myself away far enough that she can read my eyes. ‘Every word. I will never let you down, Anna. Whatever you need, however you want to proceed, I’m all in. I need you in my life more than anything else, and I think you’ll be pleasantly surprised by my resourcefulness.’
Her despair is broken by just the hint of a smile. ‘Are you freaking kidding me? I’m your number-one fan. I have no doubts about the lengths you’ll go to for justice.’
It’s my turn to smile slightly. ‘I heard you were arrested with one of my books in your possession. How would you feel about helping me write the rest of this story? I think my readers want to hear your story from the very beginning. I’ve promised to send my agent, Maddie, an outline for my next book, and I think it should start with you, if you’re happy to share your story?’
‘Yeah, but can we get a drink somewhere? My stomach thinks my throat’s been cut.’
Chapter Fifty-One
Now
Windsor, Berkshire
Six months later
The gentle hum of the room feels so reassuring, although I don’t know half the people in the lavish suite, but that doesn’t matter; today isn’t about me. From the outside I appear cool, calm, and collected. The carefully applied makeup is still shining, and my hair remains in the delicate shape the stylist wrestled it into shortly after the first glass of prosecco. Even the dress Rachel chose for me is doing a decent job of keeping my wobbly bits under control. I don’t recognise the woman who keeps staring back at me from the mirrored hall we’re seated in.
Inwardly, all is not so in check. I feel physically sickened by the prospect of the speech I’m required to deliver in the next five minutes. Rachel knows I detest public speaking, but when she asked if I’d be willing to make a small Maid of Honour toast, I couldn’t turn her down. I know how much it will mean to her, so the compromise we reached was that I was allowed to write down what I want to say, so all I have to do is read it, while keeping my eyes firmly fixed to the page, rather than on everyone else who will be staring at me.
I reach for the glass of Chablis on the table and see that my fingers
are trembling as I press the glass to my lips. Why is it so hot in here?
I look over to Freddie, who is sitting with Rachel’s cousins, regaling them with anecdotes as they fall about laughing. He must feel my eyes on him because he looks up and tilts his glass in my direction. I hear his words on the phone this morning, ‘Stand tall, thrust out your chest, and own the room.’
Easier said than done, if you ask me, but I can’t help but admire his new zest for life. Since Beauchamp’s arrest, Freddie has enrolled on an Open University psychology degree course. That anyone can suffer as he has and now want to help others suffering with similar trauma is a testament to his character. I want to make him as proud of me as I am of him.
A cool hand presses mine and I catch Rachel leaning in. ‘Are you okay?’
She looks beautiful in her peach one-piece studded with pearls, topped off with a decadent tiara that I know for a fact had to be insured for today’s ceremony and reception. But I’ve never seen her look so happy and comfortable in my life. Even the less than happy expressions her parents are wearing don’t seem to be enough to spoil the day. They’re not seated at the head table for that very reason, instead seated with Daniella’s parents at the round table off to our left. Daniella’s parents flew in from Italy a week ago, and have helped the two of them move into their new Marylebone apartment. Their English isn’t great, but Rachel has started learning Italian so she can communicate better with them. Daniella’s mum hasn’t stopped smiling all day, and every time I see her dad, he’s dabbing his eyes to catch the joyful tears.
I take another sip of my wine. ‘I’m fine,’ I whisper to Rachel, squeezing the tips of her fingers.
‘You don’t have to say too much,’ she says, reading my mind as she always does. ‘Just thank everyone for coming, say how beautiful the brides look, and then raise your glass. Easy.’
If only it were that easy. My chest prickles with heat, but the sooner I start, the sooner it will end. I know I wouldn’t feel nearly as nervous if the chair beside me weren’t noticeably empty. Rachel had addressed my plus one invite to Jack specifically – another attempt at matchmaking – and he did say he would be here, but he’s missed the ceremony and wedding breakfast, and his phone is switched off, so I guess that tells me everything I need to know about the prospect of us pursuing anything romantic. It isn’t a criticism – I have no doubt he’s been called in to work at the last minute – but I do wish he were here to champion me on.
I suppose I only have myself to blame for him being such an integral part of Operation Cicada. What started with the arrest of Ian Beauchamp quickly snowballed, focusing initially on those police officers listed in the spreadsheet recovered from Beauchamp’s files, but spreading to include former senior civil servants. Some names on the list will avoid prosecution because they’ve died, but enquiries are ongoing. They’ve targeted the biggest names first, but Jack has told me they won’t stop until every named individual has been arrested and interviewed.
What I didn’t expect after Anna and I reconnected in Wareham was how difficult she’d find it to adapt to regular life. I insisted she move in with me, and although I offered her my bed, as well as the sofa bed, she moved back into her campervan after two days. Tragically, I think she’s been running for so long, she doesn’t know how to slow down. So, rather than restraining her, we reached an impasse, and she went ‘back to work’, offering those running Operation Cicada her full cooperation. She’s been granted temporary powers so that she can attend briefings and share the wealth of her knowledge, experience, and trauma. With Rawani’s retirement postponed, and at his suggestion, Jack and Anna are focusing on finding the victims in the MP4 files, and providing the necessary support they undoubtedly need.
‘Are you ready?’ Rachel asks, touching my hand again.
I don’t answer, instead unfolding the printed sheet I brought with me and skimming the opening lines so I know how to frame my tone. Picking up the dessert fork I didn’t use, I tap it against the fresh flute of prosecco, and stand. The hum in the room quells, and all eyes turn to me. My toes are curling inside my Louboutins, but thankfully nobody can see them beneath the table cloth.
The words on the page blur slightly, as I try to focus on them. ‘Um, thank you for your attention.’ My mouth is so dry that my lips are sticking to my teeth. I don’t want to screw this up. ‘Um, for those of you who don’t know me, my name is Emma Hunter, and I’m the Maid of Honour today.’
Someone wolf whistles from the audience, but I daren’t look up to see where it came from. I read on, but the lines before me sound so carefully worded that there’s no longer a natural rhythm to them. This was such a bad idea. I should have told her that I’d mess up the speech, and she’d be better off asking her other bridesmaid to do it instead.
Now I realise seconds are slipping away, and I’m not speaking. Everyone is staring at me as I stutter and fail at yet another public speaking event. How did my mouth get so dry? Rachel is shuffling uncomfortably in my periphery, and I just wish I could wake from this nightmare.
I reach for the Chablis and drain the glass, swilling slightly to hydrate my gums, before swallowing.
I only glance up for the briefest of seconds, but there he is.
Standing at the back of the room, out of breath and desperately tucking his pressed shirt into his black trousers, holding up his hands in apology. He remains where he is, not wanting to interrupt my big moment, even though I wish he would make some kind of entrance to distract everyone’s attention.
Rachel takes my hand and whispers, ‘It’s okay, you don’t have to do this if you don’t want to. Just raise your glass and toast us.’
I look down at her and can see the concern etched around her eyes. She deserves so much better.
I lower the page of notes and press my hand against her cheek, welcoming the cool relief on my palm. ‘You are the most amazing friend I ever could have asked for,’ I say, feeling my eyes filling, but no longer caring. ‘Today you’ve transformed from my funny, ditzy, brave university housemate into an elegant swan. I see you sitting here with your beautiful bride, Daniella, and I feel honoured that I get to call you my friend. Public displays of affection are not really my thing, as you know, but today I stand here prouder than I’ve ever felt, because you chose me to share in your most special of days. What most of your guests probably don’t realise is just how big an influence you’ve been on my life. And I can, hand on heart, say I wouldn’t be half the person I am today if I hadn’t had you supporting me from the sidelines. So all I really want to say is thank you, Rachel, for being my personal cheerleader, and I hope you’ll let me continue to ride on your coat tails as you set off on your new life with Daniella.’
I pause to allow Rachel to wipe her eyes, and turn to face the audience, though I concentrate my attention on Jack’s face. ‘Ladies and gentlemen, please raise your glasses and join me in a toast to the bride and bride.’
Chairs scrape in unison as all the guests stand and raise their glasses. This gives Jack the opportunity to circle the edge of the room and drop into the chair beside me. He leans across and quickly apologises to Rachel and Daniella for his tardiness.
A waiter comes over and fills Jack’s flute with prosecco, topping up mine in the process. We sit quietly and listen as Daniella’s dad delivers his speech in his native tongue, while Daniella translates for him, gushing at his warm and kind words, and then we hear Rachel’s dad offer a brief toast to the pair of them, and then the Master of Ceremonies informs everyone that there will be a break in proceedings so that the room can be set up for the evening reception. Jack and I head to the bar, and find a table in a quiet corner.
‘I’m sorry I didn’t get here sooner,’ he says once we’re seated. ‘Today’s been a bit of a mental day, but I’m so pleased I got to see your speech. You almost had me sobbing buckets.’
‘I’m just glad you’ve made it now. Where’s Anna?’
He glances around as if looking for her, before retur
ning my stare. ‘She said she was going to change quickly and then she’d be out. I gave her the key to my room, so she’s probably up there now.’ He pauses and takes a sip of the lager he ordered at the bar. ‘There’s something I need to talk to you about.’
A shudder courses the length of my spine as I see fresh anxiety in his eyes. The last time he looked like this was when he was about to break the news that he’d found Anna’s face on one of the videos in Arthur Turgood’s collection. I don’t need more heartache after this turbulent year.
‘I don’t know where to begin,’ he says, now fixing his attention on his shoes.
‘Just bowl out with it,’ I reply quickly. ‘Whatever it is, just say it like you’re ripping off a plaster.’
He looks up and begins to speak, before thinking again, and looking back at his feet. ‘Chrissie and her husband are moving to Bournemouth, because he’s just got a new job that requires him to be closer to the sea. And they’re obviously taking Mila with them.’
‘Oh, Jack, I’m sorry,’ I say, knowing it will be a two- to three-hour journey for him to see her from London.
He shrugs. ‘It’s fine. I understand why they need to move, and they did speak to me about it before making their decision. It’s much better money for him, and Mila is super excited about being so close to the beach. So it’s okay.’