Undercurrent

by J. A. Baker

  “We need to knock on doors,” Toby splutters as he walks into an overhanging branch and comes away with a mouthful of wet leaves.

  Mike runs his hands through his hair, “Where the hell is she Toby? What the fuck is going on round here?”

  “Let’s not jump to any conclusions. We need to get back, dry out and then speak to some locals. For all we know, she could actually be at home waiting for us.”

  Deep down they both know this isn’t the case. The boys would have rung by now. She would have rung.

  “Come on, we need to head back and start talking to the neighbours.” Mike follows Toby’s voice as they swing round and plough through the inordinate amount of water and dirt that, up until half an hour ago, was the path that followed the curve of the river. They walk slowly, ankle deep in it, careful not to slip. Toby’s trousers are already soaking and filthy. Mike picks up a stray branch and every few paces, drags it through the bushes, hoping it lands on something solid, something more substantial than twigs and piles of rotting foliage. Nothing. He keeps it up until they are almost back at the house, patting the ground for anything, any sign is wife has passed this way.

  “Right, you go and let the boys know we’re back and I’ll start asking people if they’ve seen her.”

  Mike nods as Toby makes his way to the end of the road and starts hammering on doors. He goes inside wondering all the while what the hell he is going to say to their two sons. Your mother has disappeared? Your mother has left us? Mike freezes. Fuck. What if she has pulled the wool over their eyes and actually left him? He dashes upstairs and yanks open her wardrobe door. Still full. Sitting by her bed is her handbag. He rips it open and feels relief wash over him as her purse topples out on to the floor along with her car keys. The relief is short lived. Apart from her phone which, knowing Anna, will be dead, she has nothing with her. This wasn’t planned. She is in trouble. Somewhere, she has fallen foul either by something or someone, and isn’t able to come home. Fear stabs at his insides. He feels his eyes fill up with tears and swallows hard to suppress them. What he needs to do right now is be the strongest he can be, for the boys, for himself and Toby, for Anna. He has to stay sharp, stay focused so he can find his wife and bring her back home.

  Taking the stairs two at a time, he lands at the bottom with a thump.

  “Callum! Mason!” Mikes voice comes out as an unintended roar and both lads hurtle through to the hallway, a look of disappointment on their faces when they see him standing there on his own. “I’m off out with Toby to see if any of the neighbours have seen your mum.”

  Callum’s face becomes panic stricken. This is serious. Two hours ago, it was just a case of mum being bloody dippy and not realising the time but he can see with the passing of each hour and the awful weather outside, that there’s more to this than sheer forgetfulness. He feels a lump rise in his throat and his cheeks feel as if they are on fire. Where is she?

  “I’ll come with you. They’re not gonna be happy being knocked up at this hour,” Mason tries to sidestep his way past his dad but Mike blocks his way.

  “No. Stay here with your brother and keep the door locked. I’ll take my key. There’s only a dozen or so houses so we shouldn’t be too long. And as for knocking them up - tough shit. Your mother is missing.”

  “And what if she isn’t with any of them? What do we do then dad?”

  “Like I just said, stay here with your brother and keep the door locked. We won’t be long.”

  The door slams before Mason has a chance to protest, to shout that she’s his mother and he should be able to help look for her too. He hears the key being turned in the lock and slopes back off into the living room with Callum following behind. The black screen of the television stares at them from the corner of the room.

  “Where do you think she is Mase?” Callum is staring at his younger brother, willing him to have an answer.

  “Fuck knows,” is all Mason can manage as he slumps down onto the sofa and wipes away an unexpected stray tear.

  Nineteen

  It didn’t take me long. In less than five minutes, I was able to mop up around Anna’s twitching, groaning body leaving virtually no trace of any blood. None visible to the naked eye anyway. If an army of forensic investigators were to wade on in here, then I’m sure it would be a different matter. But they’re not going to are they? Absolutely nobody knows she is here. I check the floor to make sure it is spotless and am only left with the candelabra, which I shove in a bin liner and stuff in the cupboard under the sink. I will pull it back out later and clean it up. Right now it’s the least of my worries. The biggest job by far is moving her body and working out what I am going to do next. My breath comes out in ragged chunks as I drag her across the kitchen floor and into the hallway. I have wrapped her head wound in a large towel and for now, it seems to have stemmed the flow of blood. My bedroom is the first at the top of the stairs. I will take her in there. I can use the en suite to clean her up and at least make her slightly more comfortable while I work out what my next move is going to be. Behind me, I can hear Martyn cackling with laughter and hollering sarcastic comments designed to upset me. This is what he does. His only source of entertainment. He has so little going for him now you see, that events like this restore the balance of power between us, making him feel imbued with an element of supremacy giving him the control he craves. Today he refused his medication. Even slipping it into his tea proved fruitless. He wouldn’t drink it unless he watched me make it from scratch. So I should have expected something like this. I should have been prepared. I imagine he will be laid back in his leather chair right now, arms placed behind his head, a sickly smile plastered across his smug face. I blot the image from my mind. Right now I need to get Anna upstairs and sorted before anybody comes knocking. Which they will. People don’t just disappear into thin air. They are out there somewhere, and friends and family and the police do their utmost to try to find them. I want to be ready when that happens. I need to be ready.

  Dragging her up will be too difficult. Heaving her body over each and every step will be torture for both of us so I lean down and lift one of her lifeless arms around my neck and place my right arm around her waist. She is surprisingly light and before I know it I have managed to haul her up over each step and am at the top of the stairs and pulling her into my bedroom. Martyn has slept in the guest room for the past few nights which suits me fine. Perfect really. I prop her up against the side of the bed, her legs stretched out straight across the rug. Her head flops to one side and a line of saliva is working its way down the side of her face. I rub it away with my sleeve and lightly trace my finger over her creamy skin then wrap a strand of bloodied hair that has fallen out of the towel, around my finger. So much like Suzie it’s breath-taking. So very much like Suzie.

  Her eyes flicker, sending my heart into a flutter and I snap into action. I look around the room for anything to help me. Grabbing at the tie-backs hanging up at the window, I quickly pull Anna’s arms behind her back and fasten her wrists together. Not too tight. I don’t want to stop her circulation, but need them rigid enough to stop her getting free. Then I do the same with her feet, making sure I use a soothing voice as I bind her up. I tell her how sorry I am about all of this and assure her it won’t be forever. I have no idea if she is conscious or not but I need to salve my conscience. This is partly my fault. But it is also partly hers. I tried to warn her away from us when we first moved here, to tell her that Martyn wasn’t a well man but she just wouldn’t listen, insisting she could help him when all the while I knew she was wasting her time. He is stronger than that. Martyn is the strongest man I have ever known.

  Finally, after locating it from the cupboard under the sink, I use the leftovers of the tape I used to stick the removal boxes together and press it firmly over Anna’s mouth. She moves slightly so I pull a longer strip off and push it in place over the existing one. Then I stand back and admire my work. Even Houdini would have the devil’s own job to escape from
that lot. I look around. There are some objects placed on the bed - a few items of laundry, some pieces of jewellery and my keepsake box. Carefully I pick them all up and put them on the floor, then haul Anna up onto the quilt. She will be less likely to roll about knowing she could fall off and injure herself. As a precaution, I close the blinds and then pull the curtains closed. I usually only have them tied back for show but need to be extra careful tonight. I don’t want any prying eyes catching me out. I head into the bathroom and come back with a wet flannel which I dab on Anna’s bloodstained face. She is remarkably pretty with her childlike features and full mouth. Suzie was always the pretty one, the fun one, the confident one whereas I could hardly bear to look at myself in the mirror. I’m not outstandingly ugly but neither could you consider me good looking either. As Suzie was so fond of telling me, I am average. Even my mother struggled to use the word pretty where I was concerned. Quiet, intelligent, but never pretty. It’s taken years for me to be sure of myself, but I find I am more confident now, not as awkward as I used to be. Strategic use of make-up has allowed my face to morph into something more presentable and mirrors no longer hold the fear for me that they once did. Even the wrinkles and deep lines that have started to develop on my skin and around my eyes and mouth don’t scare me. I’m not proud of them but neither am I ashamed of them. I am what I am; no longer living my life in my sister’s shadow. I am me.

  By the time the knock comes, I feel confident, equipped to deal with whatever they throw at me. Anna is sleeping soundly on my bed upstairs, my house has been cleaned of any evidence and Martyn is holed up in his study at the side of the house, a streak of dim light from under the closed door the only indication he is here at all. I have wrapped myself up in my dressing gown and pulled my hair back in a tight hairband. My face is scrubbed free of lipstick and mascara, and I am prepared to meet whoever is behind the door, whether it be Anna’s husband or even the police. This time, unlike a few weeks back when they came looking for Nancy, I am ready. The house is practically cloaked in darkness as I make my way towards the hallway.

  A small gasp of breath leaves my throat as I swing the door open to see Toby, Anna’s brother standing there. Him. His face doesn’t alter as I greet him and try to look shocked when he tells me Anna is missing.

  “Missing?” I ask, narrowing my eyes in confusion, “But it’s the early hours of the morning! How long has she been missing for?”

  He shrugs and looks at his watch, “Apparently she went for a walk while Mike and the boys were at the pub and she hasn’t come home.”

  I suck my teeth and shake my head as his eyes bore into me. His stern gaze is unrelenting and I wonder if he is still trying to work out where he recognises me from. I feel a prickle begin to take hold in my armpits and at the back of my neck. I will need to keep this brief without appearing uncaring or brusque. I don’t want to unravel in front of this man. I absolutely must keep it together.

  “But it’s pitch black out there,” I gasp and widen my eyes dramatically, “Where did she say she was going to?”

  I’m not sure if I imagine it but Toby seems to slump a little, his shoulders drooping as he speaks, “Just off for a walk to see the sunset. We were wondering if you’ve seen her at all?”

  “Gosh no. I was busy doing housework in here most of the evening and then I had an early night. I peek my head out of the door a little and look up to the sky, “Where would she go to in this weather? It’s awful out there.”

  Toby shrugs and I can’t swear to it, but am certain his voice changes slightly, develops a warble to it that wasn’t there before, “That’s what we can’t work out. It’s not like her at all. She’s usually a real home bird. We’ve been out and walked down that way by the river where she usually likes to go but the weather was so horrendous and it was too difficult to see anything so we had to turn back.”

  I cover my confusion well. At some point, Anna must have turned around and walked in the opposite direction behind my house. This is good. It will throw them off the scent and give me more time to plan my next step. Because I have to have one. I can’t leave her up there in my bedroom indefinitely.

  “I really wish I could help you. . .”

  “Toby,” he replies quickly and gives me a small smile.

  “Toby,” I add and return the smile. I am so adept at lying, I surprise myself. “I have to say I’m really worried now. Does she have her phone with her?”

  He nods and begins to retreat down the path, “Yes, but Mike seems to think the battery is dead.”

  I roll my eyes and purse my lips, “Awful, just awful.”

  “Anyway, thanks for your concern. You know where we are if you hear or see anything.”

  “Absolutely,” I shout after him. His feet crunch on the gravel and I watch as he leaves my drive and heads to a row of terraced cottages further up the road. “And if there’s anything at all I can do to help, you know where I am.” I wait until he disappears from my sight completely before closing the door and leaning against it to catch my breath. The room spins slightly as I head towards the stairs and take them two at a time, a small amount of vomit rising in my throat. I’m almost certain I’ve pulled it off so have no idea why I’m so nervous. Delayed shock. That’s what it is. And the thought of what I am now going do with her. That’s the tricky bit. The dangerous bit. I should be used to picking up the pieces of Martyn’s destructive streak but it never gets any easier. And now I am left with an injured, semi-conscious lady who is bound and gagged in my bedroom. If I release her she will undoubtedly go straight to the police. And who can blame her? But the consequences of that will be too great to bear for me and Martyn. Completely unthinkable. So I can’t let that happen. It’s out of the question.

  I flick on the landing light. A small groan is coming from beyond the closed bedroom door. I turn the handle slowly, not entirely certain I really want to see her if she has regained consciousness. Bracing myself, I open it and through the darkness am surprised to see that she is laid completely still, her hands and feet still tied up and the tape still in place. As softly as I can I step forward and drop to my knees at the side of the bed to check the gash on her head. As I lean over, her eyes snap open and I find myself looking deep into her jet back pupils. Startled, I jump back, my throat thick with alarm,

  “You’re awake,” I whisper hoarsely as I move away. Her gaze is remarkably steady for someone who has just been bashed over the head with a heavy object.

  She mumbles something from behind the tape and for a moment I am tempted to remove it to hear what she has to say, to find out how much she remembers but then think better of it. Taking off the tape will give her the chance to scream and then we would all be done for. No, I will keep her warm and dry and take care of her, just like I used to do with Suzie. I will be the sensible sister again, the thoughtful one, the good one. I will take charge and this time I will do it properly. Make sure she stays safe. Make sure she stays alive.

  The bedclothes begin to get snarled up as she starts to wriggle about, kicking her bound legs like a fishtail, frantic and graceless.

  “Sssh,” I say, pulling the duvet straight, “You shouldn’t move about too much. Your head might start bleeding again. You don’t want that to happen do you?”

  Her eyes widen and it suddenly occurs to me that at some point she will need to go to the toilet. She set off just after teatime so it won’t be long before nature calls and I certainly don’t want the mess all over my bed. I look down at her clothing. She really is quite filthy. Muddy trousers and a grimy, wet sweatshirt. The trousers are fairly loose fitting and shouldn’t prove too difficult to remove and put back on again. But all in good time. Anna is a grown woman and can hold on for a bit longer. I need to calm her down first, make her more compliant; less feisty. Martyn’s medication is in the bathroom cabinet and there is plenty spare since his refusal to take it. I pad over to the ensuite bathroom, open the door and pop two capsules in my hand, then just to be sure, take another one. I open each
capsule in turn and tip the contents into a small container and mix it with a tiny amount of water. The next bit will be the trickiest part. I want to catch her unawares, leaving her unable to fight back. I carry the vessel that contains the mixture to the side of the bed and place it on the bedside cabinet. She is watching my every move. I have to ignore her staring presence. I know what her little game is and refuse to let her gaze unnerve me. Anyway this is as much for her benefit as it is mine. At least if I let her relieve herself while she is less alert, her dignity will remain intact. Quick as a flash I pull the tape off and tip the liquid into her mouth. Before she can protest or spit it out, I stick the strip of tape back on and press down hard enough to ensure she swallows all of the mixture.

  She gags slightly but then within minutes her writhing slows down and her eyes begin to droop. If I am going to do this, I need to do it now before she falls into a deep, drug induced sleep. She tries to focus on me as I lean close enough to speak to her, “I’m going to let you go to the toilet now Anna. Please don’t struggle. I’m doing this to help you. Squirming about will only result in you wetting yourself and you don’t want that do you?”

  Without giving her chance to protest, I drag her up off the bed and over to the bathroom where I yank her trousers and pants down and sit her on the toilet. Like a sleepy child, Anna gives in and relieves herself. By the time I get her back onto the bed she is almost unconscious and I am exhausted. Although she is fairly light, the exertion of dragging another person around has taken its toll on me and I need to rest. I slump in the chair by the bed and feel a comfortable slumber begin to descend.

  ....................................................................................................................................................

  Light is breaking through a tiny crack in the curtains when I wake up. Anna is laid opposite staring at me, a pleading expression on her face. It’s too early for me to deal with her needs right now. Firstly I need to check on Martyn and sort Tillie out and then I will bring her a drink of some kind. Preferably water as tea will be too hot and it’s also a diuretic, and although getting Anna to the toilet wasn’t was traumatic as I initially anticipated, I don’t want to do it more often than is necessary.