The Other Child

by Charlotte Link

  It was just odd that nothing in the kitchen suggested Fiona had eaten breakfast, nor that she had prepared anything for her granddaughter as she normally did. At the very least, she would have left the coffee to keep warm on the coffeemaker’s plate. But when Leslie had a closer look, she saw that the glass jug still contained the rest of yesterday’s coffee. When she picked up the jug, the brew splashed around inside and left brown marks on the inside of the glass. No one had touched it for over twenty-four hours.

  Leslie frowned in puzzlement. There were two things her grandmother could not do without in the morning: at least two cups of strong coffee and one cigarette. It was almost unimaginable that she would have got up and gone for a walk without having had those two things.

  Leslie went to the living room. Empty and silent. No ash in the ashtray. Could Fiona still be sleeping at half past eleven?

  Without a moment’s hesitation, Leslie went over to Fiona’s bedroom and quietly opened the door. She could see the bed, neatly covered with a bedspread. The curtains were open. Fiona’s slippers lay in front of the wardrobe. The room looked just as it always did during the day. It was not dear whether someone had slept here the previous night or not.

  Maybe Fiona had spent half the night talking to Chad and decided in the end that she would spend the night on the farm. Probably she was just as loath to talk to her granddaughter as her granddaughter was to talk to her. Leslie was still angry, but her aggression had been dissipated to some extent by her painful hangover. She thought she would do best to leave Fiona to her own devices. The old woman had acted unreasonably, and it would not do her any harm to notice that the people nearest to her had been put out and were not going to be easily appeased. Colin or Jennifer could give her a lift back to Scarborough, or she could take a taxi. Leslie should make herself a coffee, and a few sandwiches for the journey, and set off for London. What with her move coming up, she had enough on her plate. Why should she waste her time here arguing with the old dear?

  In spite of her resolution, she went back into the living room and picked up the phone. Better to check that everything was all right. She did not want to worry all the way home.

  It was a while until someone answered on the Beckett farm. Then Leslie heard Gwen’s voice. It sounded as though the young woman had cried for hours – not surprising in the circumstances.

  ‘Hi, Leslie,’ Gwen said, and just those two words sounded so desolate that Leslie’s heart went out to her. ‘Did you get home all right?’

  ‘Yes. Fine. I just took a little detour via a pub, and now I feel as if my head is in a vice, but that will go. Gwen, Fiona was out of order yesterday. I want you to know that I’m one hundred per cent on your side.’

  ‘Thank you,’ said Gwen quietly. ‘I know you didn’t want things to turn out like that.’

  ‘Have you … has Dave phoned since then?’

  ‘No.’ Now Gwen started to cry again. ‘He hasn’t. And he’s not answering his phone. I’ve tried to reach him a dozen times. I texted him four times, but he hasn’t replied. Leslie, he’s done with me. He’s had enough. And I can understand!’

  ‘Just wait,’ consoled Leslie. ‘Of course he’s smarting. Fiona laid into him in front of everyone. No wonder he’s disappeared. But I’m sure he’ll come out again sometime.’

  Gwen blew her nose noisily.

  ‘Do you think she was right?’ she then asked.

  ‘Who? Fiona?’

  ‘With what she said. That Dave is only … after the farm? That he’s not interested in me?’

  Leslie hesitated. The conversation was threatening to head into a minefield, and today of all days, with this headache plaguing her.

  ‘I don’t think Fiona can be a judge of it,’ she said, simultaneously silencing the inner voice that told her that Fiona had always been a pretty good judge of character. ‘She doesn’t know Dave well enough. And nor do I, unfortunately. Yesterday evening was too short to get a proper impression of him.’

  This was a little white lie. Of course she had not really got to know Dave Tanner. However, she had shared her grandmother’s suspicion all evening. Tanner was too good-looking and cosmopolitan for her to imagine that he had fallen in love with Gwen. The two of them were too different, and not in the ‘opposites attract’ way, but rather in a way that ruled out attraction. In addition, Tanner’s whole appearance revealed his blatant lack of money. Leslie could see how and why Fiona had reached her conclusions.

  ‘I wish you could go and talk to Dave,’ said Gwen, ‘to show him that not everyone in the family is against him. And maybe you could find out what he … really feels about me.’

  ‘Actually I’m about to leave for London,’ Leslie replied in some discomfort. She did not at all like the thought of becoming more entangled in this whole baneful affair.

  ‘But you wanted to stay in Scarborough for a few days!’ exclaimed Gwen in surprise.

  Leslie explained that she was rather angry with her grandmother and so had no wish to stay any longer. ‘I’m so relieved that I didn’t have to see her this morning. Did you have the questionable pleasure of having breakfast with her, or have you been able to avoid her so far?’

  At the other end of the line there was a confused silence for a moment. ‘Sorry?’ asked Gwen. ‘She’s not here. Did she want to come over?’

  Leslie felt a tingling in her fingertips. ‘Didn’t she sleep at your place?’

  ‘No. As far as I know, she ordered a taxi to get home.’

  ‘But it doesn’t look like … she slept here.’ The tingling in Leslie’s fingertips increased. ‘Listen Gwen, I’ll phone you back. Let me go and check.’

  She hung up, went to Fiona’s bedroom and opened the wardrobe. She looked through the dresses, skirts and blouses carefully until she was sure that the dress Fiona had worn the night before was not among the other clothes. Nor was it in the bathroom or in the laundry basket. Her shoes and handbag were also missing. As Fiona was certainly not out for a walk in her silk dress and high heels, it was clear she had not changed clothes, at least not in her flat.

  She was definitely not home.

  Leslie ran into her room and quickly got dressed. Although her body was crying out for a nice long shower and a strong coffee, she could not bring herself to waste another moment. She brushed her hair hurriedly, grabbed her car key and the key to the flat, and ran outside, pulling the door closed behind her.

  Three minutes later she was on the way to the Beckett farm. The low, bright sun shone in her eyes and made her headache worse. She ignored it.

  4

  ‘I called a cab for her,’ said Colin. ‘She had been with Chad for a long time, maybe two hours. Then she and Chad came out of the study and she said she wanted to go home. I had been watching telly and was about to go upstairs to bed. I offered to call the cab. She said she wanted to walk for a bit, as the night was quite bright, and could I please order a cab for Whitestone Farm. So I did.’

  ‘For Whitestone Farm?’ asked Leslie astonished. ‘To get there you need to go through the wood, over the little bridge and up the hill. It would take her at least fifteen minutes!’ Leslie, Colin and Gwen, who looked pale and teary, were standing in the kitchen. Gwen was doing the dishes and Colin, who had been sitting at the table earlier frowning into a pile of closely typed papers, had stood up and was drying the dishes.

  ‘But that’s what she wanted to do,’ he said. ‘Have a walk.’ He thought for a minute. ‘I had the impression that she was quite worked up. Either about the thing with Dave Tanner or something unpleasant she had been talking to Chad about. In any case she was agitated, and I could see that she needed to stretch her legs.’

  ‘I wonder where she might have gone,’ said Leslie. ‘Maybe she didn’t want to go home, to keep out of my way. Although that’s not like her at all. She’s not a person who avoids confrontations.’

  She turned around, hearing steps behind her. Chad appeared from the living room. He seemed as introverted as always.

&nbs
p; ‘Hi, Leslie,’ he said. ‘Fiona here too?’

  ‘Fiona seems to have disappeared,’ said Colin.

  Chad looked from one to the other in confusion. ‘Disappeared?’

  ‘Colin called a cab last night,’ said Leslie, ‘for Whitestone Farm, because she wanted to have a walk first. But she didn’t come home. Did you see her leave, Chad?’

  ‘Saw her at door,’ replied Chad, ‘when I were ‘bout t’ go t’ bed. She were puttin’ on her coat and said she wanted t’ walk a stretch. Then I heard door close behind her.’

  ‘I’m going to call the cab office,’ said Colin and put the dishcloth down. ‘The trip must be registered with them. Then we’ll know more.’ He went off into the study to make the call.

  Gwen stopped doing the dishes and dried her hands. ‘Don’t worry, Leslie. It’ll soon be cleared up.’

  Leslie tried to smile. ‘Of course. She’s hard as nails.’ She put a hand to her brow. ‘I’ve got a terrible headache. Could I have a coffee? As strong as possible?’

  ‘Of course,’ said Gwen immediately. ‘I’ll just put the kettle on.’

  They heard padding and panting and the two Great Danes came round the corner and into the kitchen. Jennifer followed close behind. Her cheeks were ruddy and her hair tousled. ‘It’s gorgeous outside,’ she said. ‘Sun, wind and crystal-clear air. You should have come, Gwen. Oh, hi, Leslie! How are you?’

  ‘Fiona has disappeared,’ said Gwen.

  Jennifer looked as confused as Chad had a couple of minutes ago.

  ‘That’s to say, she obviously left here last night, but she never arrived home,’ added Leslie. ‘I only noticed late this morning. Colin is just calling the cab office.’

  Colin appeared behind his wife. ‘They’re just checking,’ he said. ‘They’ll call right back.’

  ‘Mighty odd,’ remarked Chad.

  ‘We can rule out any idea that Dave Tanner gave her a lift,’ opined Leslie.

  ‘Dave had been gone for two hours by the time Fiona thought of leaving,’ said Colin. ‘Unless he stayed around here somewhere, and why would he do that?’

  ‘Maybe to talk to his fiancée again once everyone else had left or gone to bed,’ suggested Jennifer.

  Hope shone in Gwen’s eyes. ‘Do you really think so?’ she asked.

  ‘But why would he then have picked up Fiona? Her of all people!’

  Jennifer shrugged. ‘He would have had every reason to talk to her. To convince her of his good intentions, to show her how he saw things. It wasn’t his duty to try to clear things up, but he might have wanted to, anyway.’

  ‘And why wouldn’t he then have driven her home?’ asked Chad.

  ‘They went to his place, talked all night and then went somewhere for breakfast!’ Jennifer looked from one person to the next. ‘I can imagine them doing that, Tanner as well as Fiona.’

  ‘I don’t know, I—’ started Leslie, but then the phone rang. She did not finish her sentence but waited in silence like everyone else until Colin returned from the study.

  ‘How very mysterious,’ he said. ‘They talked to the driver. He was at Whitestone Farm as agreed. He’d been told to wait but on no account ring the bell, but he couldn’t see anyone near or far. He waited a good long while, then he slowly drove further down the road, but there was no one there either. So he drove home in the end, without a customer and pretty annoyed. He’d phoned the office to say it must have been a mistake.’

  Everyone looked at each other. Suddenly the atmosphere was tense. There was fear in the air.

  ‘So, first of all let’s walk along the path to Whitestone Farm,’ decided Leslie. ‘She might have fallen, or had an attack of dizziness … She’s so old!’ She looked at the two men. ‘Neither of you considered accompanying an old woman in the middle of the night? Or talking her out of it?’

  ‘Can’t talk Fiona out of anythin’,’ growled Chad, quite correctly.

  Colin ran a hand through his hair. He looked sheepish. ‘Right,’ he said. ‘Of course I should have walked with her. It was … late, and I think … I didn’t think it was my responsibility. And I was annoyed … everyone was annoyed with her …’ He broke off uncertainly.

  Leslie did not pursue it. He was right. Everyone had been mad with Fiona. She more than any of them – so mad that she had gone home without waiting for her grandmother.

  ‘Gwen, please try one more time to reach Dave. Maybe he knows something. If he still doesn’t reply, I’ll go and find him.’ Leslie turned to go. ‘Who’s going to come and help search the road?’

  Colin and Jennifer joined her, Jennifer taking the dogs along. The narrow road was peaceful in the sunlight. It was lined with six-foot-high hedges which shone in all the colours of autumn. A few fat blackberries still hung between the branches. A calm October Sunday that could almost be late summer … In the distance the blue sea glistened.

  The gate to the neighbouring farm appeared a little way ahead. A footpath led across the farm along the side of wide sheep pastures. The road made a sharp bend to the right and then led downhill in a gentle curve before disappearing into a copse of ferns, bushes and tall trees which still had their leaves on. The sun only penetrated parts of it. The light was dim and bathed everything in a soft green. A narrow bridge made of stone led over a deep, wooded gorge. This dry autumn there was only a trickle of water in the stream below. After the bridge the road corkscrewed slowly up the opposite hill.

  At night it must be pitch black here. At least it was almost impossible to get lost, because you could not leave the road. And you were protected from the gorge by the walls. Someone completely drunk might still manage to fall to their death, but Fiona had been sober as a judge, as always.

  A deep fear was creeping up on Leslie. Something here was just not right.

  They walked to Whitestone Farm and then a little farther, peering into the roadside bushes and letting their gaze wander over the pastures behind them. Wotan and Cal would leap on ahead happily and come back, not appearing to sense anything at all unusual.

  ‘Could the dogs follow a scent?’ asked Leslie. ‘For example, if we gave them something Fiona had worn?’

  Jennifer shook her head. ‘A dog has to be trained for that. The two of them wouldn’t know what to do.’

  Frustrated, they went back to the farm. Whatever had happened to Fiona, there was no trace of her on the path she had wanted to take.

  At the gate to the farm Gwen was waiting for them. She had tried to call Dave Tanner a number of times. ‘He just doesn’t answer his phone,’ she said. ‘It’s as if he’s been swallowed up by the earth!’

  ‘Just like my grandmother,’ replied Leslie and pulled her car key from her trouser pocket. ‘So I’m going to drive over to him. Do you want to come, Gwen?’

  Gwen hummed and hawed, in the end deciding against it. Leslie thought it typical of her friend: she never took the initiative. She didn’t risk things. This had led to a life where little happened, and for long periods nothing at all.

  Leslie got the address off Gwen and was soon sitting in her car again. Still plagued by a headache and driving along the sunlit country road she felt an intense need to call Stephen, to tell him that something terrible had happened, to let him console her and give her advice, to hear his warm voice which had always had a calming effect on her. But then she forbade herself this sudden weakness. Stephen was no longer the man at her side. And also: nothing terrible had happened.

  At least, there was as yet no reason to think so.

  5

  Dave Tanner lived in the town centre, only a few steps away from the pedestrian zone with all its department stores and small shops, right by the Market Hall and the Friarage School where he gave his lessons. Friargate was lined with two rows of terraced houses of red brick and white-painted front doors. Most of the houses lay a little lower than the road and were accessed via downward-leading steps, giving a certain dark, subterranean feel to them.

  When Leslie stopped and got out of her car, park
ed just behind Dave Tanner’s bucket of rust, she could smell the sea in the light wind, and that blew away some of the trepidation in her. You could not see the water from here, but it still conveyed a sense of freshness and purity and managed to make even this monotonous road something special.

  She looked at the houses. She noticed that signs had been put up in almost all the front gardens and on the walls saying that ball games were prohibited on this road. It seemed that so many windowpanes had been broken already, no doubt because the school was nearby, that the residents were unanimously trying to eliminate this constant danger.

  In the house where Dave Tanner lived, a faded yellow curtain twitched almost imperceptibly on the ground floor. Leslie guessed that she was already being watched. A little further up on the other side of the road a young woman rushed out of her house with a child on her arm. She looked around nervously before heading towards St Helen’s Square and the pedestrian zone. She threw Leslie a suspicious glance.

  Either, thought Leslie, unknown people are rarely seen in this street, or my relatively new car makes me look very exotic.

  She had just decided to ring the bell when she saw a figure approaching out of the corner of her eye. She turned around.

  Dave Tanner came strolling up the street. He was quite relaxed, or at least gave the impression of being so. When he saw Leslie, he started to walk faster.

  ‘Well, well,’ he said, when he reached her, ‘what gives me the honour of your visit today? Are you here to represent the Beckett family and examine my living conditions and social milieu?’

  As he had not greeted her, Leslie also omitted to wish him a good morning. She asked him directly: ‘Why don’t you answer Gwen’s calls?’

  He looked at her in surprise, then he suddenly laughed. ‘That’s why you came? To ask me that?’

  ‘No. Actually I’m looking for my grandmother. Fiona Barnes.’