The Missing Wife

by Sam Carrington

  Louisa had continued to argue about it, convinced that by going she was likely to open up Pandora’s box. Brian didn’t even question her about what she’d meant by that, which was just as well, as she wasn’t altogether sure herself. Instead, he’d reaffirmed what he’d already said – that he was worried how it would look if she didn’t go. Louisa didn’t understand that thinking in the slightest. In her opinion, it looked worse that she was by his side. People would jump to conclusions about them – assume they were having an affair and that they’d ‘got rid’ of Melissa.

  Maybe she was overthinking it.

  Maybe not.

  Judging by the way DS Mack had looked at her, she was inclined to believe the latter.

  ‘I’m not sure,’ she finally said in answer to Oliver’s question.

  ‘I really appreciate you coming with me. It means a lot to me that you’re here.’ Oliver’s eyes shone. He seemed so vulnerable, Louisa felt her gut contract. What an awful situation for him to be in. If she was concerned about how things would look to others, how must he be feeling?

  Louisa had watched an appeal similar to this a few years ago – when a young doctor had gone missing. Her boyfriend had tearfully spoken of his deep love for her, had put his head in his hands and wept when the police officer had talked about the circumstances in which she’d gone missing – and all the while, Louisa had sat in judgement. She’d vehemently stated, ‘It’s all fake. He already knows what happened to his girlfriend. He did it.’ And a few months later, her assumption was proven to be correct when the news reported a body had been found and the boyfriend arrested after a ‘shock confession’.

  Oliver was right. No matter what he said today, people would automatically think he was behind Melissa’s disappearance.

  Did she?

  Louisa kept her eyes forward once the appeal began, not daring to glance to her right, to Oliver, as he spoke about his new wife, how they had only just begun their lives together – how he loved her. All the things that other man had said in the appeal for information about his girlfriend. What else could he say, though? She’d be saying similar things too if she were talking about Brian.

  The room wasn’t big, so it appeared crammed. Flashes went off as journalists snapped away, capturing the distress, the desperation. The hope. Louisa blinked rapidly. She wanted to turn away from them, but she had to keep eye contact. Had to make sure everyone could see that she had nothing to hide, nothing to feel guilty for. That she hadn’t done anything wrong.

  ‘The party she was last seen at, whose was that?’ someone asked. Louisa’s heart plummeted. Shit. She hadn’t expected to be put on the spot like that. DS Mack spoke. She silently thanked him for taking over before her panic became obvious.

  ‘It was a party held at a public house, Court Farm, in the village of Abbotsbury. It started at approximately 7.30 p.m. and the pub closed at 11.30 p.m. So we’d be interested to hear from anyone who thinks they saw Melissa between those times; even if they didn’t talk to her, they may have information that could assist our inquiries.’

  ‘Is there any CCTV footage of Melissa’s last known movements?’

  ‘I’m afraid not – the pub was not fitted with CCTV. As Mr Dunmore stated, he was with her until approximately 10.15 p.m. but after leaving her side to talk with some other guests, he lost sight of her.’

  ‘Oliver,’ a young woman called from the centre of the room; she stood up so she could be seen. ‘Why didn’t you report her missing that night? You left the party and went home without her. Why do that?’

  Louisa turned her head involuntarily towards Oliver. That was exactly what had bothered her. She noted that neither Oliver, nor the police, had mentioned the argument they’d had at the party. But argument or not, what husband would leave and drive home without knowing where his wife was?

  DS Mack cut in quickly, explaining how Melissa had previously gone off for days at a time when she’d lived with Oliver in York; therefore, this occasion was initially believed to be the same as the others – he hadn’t immediately been worried. DS Mack added that because Melissa didn’t have a job yet, or friends to occupy her time, her anxiety levels had increased, which ultimately led to a few disagreements, but none that he considered warranted her disappearing for days.

  Louisa assumed all this information had come from Oliver, but she supposed it could well have come from Melissa’s family too. She found it interesting that ‘the argument’ Oliver had mentioned to her had become ‘a few disagreements’, and that Melissa not having a job came up. Oliver had told both her and Brian his move here was temporary, so surely there’d be no need for Melissa to get a job anyway. Louisa again found herself wondering what the real reason for Oliver’s return was. DS Mack deflected a number of other awkward questions before bringing the appeal back to its main focus. Then he held up an enlarged photograph of Melissa.

  Long, auburn spiral-curls framed her pale, round face. Freckles spattered her nose and cheeks. Her full lips were upturned in a smile that crinkled her blue-silver eyes. Those eyes made Louisa shudder. It was the first time she’d seen a photo of Melissa; she was certain she hadn’t ever seen one prior to this moment.

  The sound of the room was drowned out by the whooshing of her blood storming around her body. Her heartbeat pounded in her ears. She quickly turned away from the picture.

  20

  THE PHOTOS

  Thursday p.m.

  ‘How do you think that went?’ Oliver asked the second they were alone.

  ‘Yeah, okay. I mean, as far as I can tell about these things.’ Louisa didn’t want to sound too positive. They were sitting in Oliver’s car in the police car park, each facing forwards, as if looking directly at each other would somehow cause their individual façades to crumble. DS Mack had seemed pleased with the appeal and hoped they would get people coming forward from Friday night saying they’d seen or spoken to Melissa there, or, more hopefully, afterwards. Sightings of her since the party was the outcome Louisa was pinning all her hopes on too. That way, not only would Oliver be in the clear, she’d be off the hook as well.

  Grass, cold and tickly under my feet.

  A body, bloody and broken lying on the ground.

  Eyes staring.

  Dead eyes.

  Melissa’s face.

  ‘Hey, what’s wrong? Are you okay, Lou-Lou?’ A hand was on her arm, gently shaking her. She took a sharp intake of breath as she came back to the moment.

  ‘Sorry, yes. Yes. I’m okay,’ she said, her words breathy. ‘Can you take me home now, please?’

  The journey back passed in relative silence. She wasn’t in the mood for talking. Especially not about Melissa. Seeing the photo at the appeal had unsettled her for some reason. Louisa supposed it was because she must have seen Melissa’s face when she’d been standing next to Oliver on the stairs, but she couldn’t shake the feeling that she looked more familiar than that, that she’d seen her somewhere before.

  ‘Can I come in for a bit? I could really do with a debriefing session,’ Oliver said. They’d come to a stop outside Louisa’s house without her even realising they’d driven that far. She hesitated.

  ‘Tiff has got Noah for me … so I can rest. I thought I’d sleep …’ She hoped she didn’t come across as insensitive – he’d just been through a harrowing few hours. But Louisa wasn’t sure she could bear more time talking about this situation. More time alone with the man she’d once thought of as the love of her life.

  ‘Oh.’ He lowered his head. ‘I understand. It must be hard being a new mum. You don’t need some ex turning up with a missing wife creating even more stress, asking even more of you. I’m not being fair on you, am I?’

  Louisa felt herself shrink a little in the seat. ‘It’s not that at all. I’m so tired, Oliver – and of course the added stress hasn’t helped. I didn’t even want a bloody party, let alone all this.’ The irritation oozed through her words.

  ‘I suppose I thought that one good turn deserved another, t
hat’s all.’

  There it was again. The mention of her owing him a favour. She clenched her jaw. She should ignore his thinly veiled attempt at emotional blackmail – why should she feel bad about something he supposedly did for her over twenty years ago? Something she didn’t even remember? Whatever he may or may not have done for her in the past, it would never have been enough to mask the fact that he’d left her. He’d hurt her. She didn’t owe him anything.

  Louisa turned her body towards the car door and reached for the handle.

  The lock snapped down.

  For a moment she was confused, then she froze. ‘What are you playing at?’

  ‘Give me a moment of your time, please, Lou? You’ve got a few hours yet before Tiff brings Noah home, you could spare me just one of those hours, couldn’t you?’

  Her patience had worn thin, her sympathy for his predicament waning rapidly. ‘I don’t like the way you’re going about it, Oliver. There’s no need to make me feel bad, coerce me into letting you in my house. Unlock the door, please.’

  ‘I’m sorry. I’m grasping, aren’t I?’ He gave a melodramatic sigh. ‘It’s like I’m hanging on by my fingernails for dear life, and they’re tearing from the nail bed one by one. I’m not coercing you. I’m asking you.’

  ‘You’re making me uncomfortable.’

  A snort made her snap her head around to look at him. He was smiling.

  ‘And that’s funny? That you’re causing me to feel uncomfortable?’ Her eyes widened in disbelief.

  ‘It’s just ironic,’ he said. He looked out of the driver’s side window, off into the distance. ‘How the tables have turned.’

  ‘What do you mean?’ she asked. Although she didn’t want to know the answer.

  ‘You begged me for help, remember? And I didn’t think twice. I’m not asking anything like what you asked of me, yet you act like you’re too busy, too tired, too whatever.’ He flicked his hand dismissively. ‘It hurts, if I’m honest.’

  Louisa was dumbfounded. She had absolutely no recollection of ever begging for his help, the thought was absurd. But the fact was, he could make anything up and she wouldn’t be able to confidently deny or confirm it as it was clearly from the time when she had gaps in her memory. Although, to be fair to Oliver, he didn’t know this about her. After he’d left, Louisa had gone downhill, isolating herself from family and friends. She knew this more from what her mum had told her than from actually remembering it herself. The chunks of time, the memories that had been forgotten, were not discussed. Ever. It was as though she’d been in a coma for months and awoken with amnesia. She remembered people, she remembered certain feelings, but she couldn’t always piece them together. The time just prior, and just after Oliver leaving, were the worst affected. Probably because they held the most significance; the most emotional attachment.

  If she said all of this now, she had the feeling Oliver wouldn’t believe her. He would assume she was choosing her timing – possibly even faking memory impairment in order to get out of helping him, to avoid returning whatever favour he was constantly referring to. It would be easier to ask him outright: what exactly did you do for me, Oliver?

  But Louisa’s words wouldn’t leave her mouth. She was too afraid of the answer.

  Oliver might well know all about the traumatic experience she’d had at college. He could even have been the one who’d caused it. Now, even more than before, she wished she could remember something significant. When she’d pushed herself, during the time she’d spent with the specialist, she’d been able to recall her feelings of desperation, fear and panic – those that subsequently caused her panic attacks – but no images, no faces of the people who might have been involved ever came to her. It had been frustrating then, and now it was even more so.

  But she’d never asked any of her friends what they remembered, if anything; she’d never confided fully in her parents or asked what their memories of that time were – it was as if there was a reason she didn’t want to, like she was afraid of what she’d uncover. Somewhere deep in her subconscious she knew she mustn’t ask, because whatever had happened must never be spoken of.

  ‘Perhaps you should think about it. I’ll leave you alone now seeing as you’re so tired and I’ll pop back tomorrow.’ The door lock clicked up.

  Louisa flung the car door open and ran up to her house without looking back.

  The steam from the bath clogged Louisa’s lungs. She’d only been in the hot, deep water for ten minutes before feeling closed in, claustrophobic. She was suffocating. Water sloshed up and over the edges as she stood up and stepped out of the bath, grabbing a towel and escaping the steam-filled room to the bedroom. She stood breathing the cooler air in deeply through her nose and out her mouth. So much for relaxing.

  She’d paint her toenails – she couldn’t remember the last time she’d pampered herself. After drying and dressing, Louisa opened the drawer on her side of the king-size divan and began rummaging for nail varnish. The rubbish she collected was ridiculous. The drawer was intended for make-up, toiletries and perfume. Those things were there, but there were also receipts, old birthday cards, odd bits of jewellery, purses she no longer used, diaries … all sorts. But no nail varnish. She tutted. Clearing the drawer was one of those jobs she always promised herself she’d do on a rainy afternoon, but there was never the time.

  Well, she had time now. She yanked the entire drawer out and emptied it onto her side of the bed. Now she had to sort it.

  Louisa’s hair had all but drip-dried an hour later. An hour after beginning the drawer cleanout, her bed was still strewn with crap because she’d been sidetracked. Cross-legged on the rug, Louisa sat with a box. Originally, it had contained perfume and body lotion. Now it contained photographs. Ones she’d forgotten she’d saved. One by one, Louisa picked up the photos and studied them. There were twenty-four in total. The amount that would’ve been on a roll of film. She’d been embarrassed about her Pentax camera at the time – a lot of people had digital cameras, but Louisa’s parents didn’t believe in buying into all the new technology and didn’t see the point in changing their 35mm. Don’t fix what ain’t broke, her dad had often repeated. So she’d ‘borrowed’ the camera to take to college, take snaps of her college mates. To take pictures of Oliver really.

  Louisa struggled to put names to those pictured. Apart from her and Oliver. They looked so young and naive. But what was troubling was how gaunt she appeared in many of the photos. It was then she realised the photos spanned a year, and it was the latter part of that year where she seemed the worst.

  Louisa jumped as she heard a car door bang. Bundling the pictures back in the box, she got up to look out the window.

  Tiff and Noah were back. A leaden sensation filled her stomach.

  She hadn’t even managed to have a nap.

  21

  THE LIST

  ‘Hello, little one!’ Louisa took Noah from his car seat and cuddled him in to her. ‘Thanks for having him, Tiff.’

  ‘No problem.’ Tiff squished Noah’s cheeks with one hand. ‘He was an angel. Well, pretty much.’

  ‘But you’re glad to give him back?’ Louisa raised her eyebrows. That’s usually what people said about babies when they handed them back to their owners.

  ‘No, actually. I really did enjoy having him – we’ve had fun. I can see how you don’t get anything else done, like ever, though. A right little time-waster, isn’t he?’ Tiff walked on in to the lounge and sat on the edge of the sofa. She was obviously staying then. Louisa assumed she’d drop Noah and go. Louisa followed her in.

  ‘What did you do all day?’ she asked, laying Noah on his activity mat in the centre of the room, then kneeling beside him.

  Tiff’s initial cheery expression altered, became serious. ‘We went to the health centre first thing …’

  ‘Oh no, I’m sorry. You didn’t say you had an appointment. I wouldn’t have agreed to you having him if you’d said.’

  ‘Well, no, it was fin
e. It wasn’t for me. It was for Noah.’

  Louisa’s brow creased. ‘He didn’t have one either.’

  ‘No. Not an appointment as such. More of a drop-in. For him to be weighed.’ Tiff didn’t make eye contact when she spoke the words, looking down at her lap instead. ‘Brian said today was the weekly weigh-ins.’ She carried on speaking before Louisa could interject. ‘Hah – it’s the first time I’ve ever been to a weigh-in where people didn’t feel the need to eat Chinese and drink wine afterwards!’ Tiff gave a forced laugh as she finally made eye contact. ‘Don’t be mad. Brian thought it would be one less thing for you to worry about. And you know, because of the mix-ups with feeds, he wanted to check Noah was gaining weight. And he is. Not much, but it isn’t a loss. Sandy seemed happy enough anyway.’ Tiff stopped talking, and began taking some slow, deep breaths. She knew she’d crossed a line.

  Louisa fought to keep herself calm. Going behind her back, taking her baby to the clinic without telling her. Tiff and Brian in cahoots about it. Sandy hadn’t bothered to return Louisa’s call, yet she’d seen her baby? Why would she do that? Why would they all do this to her?

  ‘I could’ve taken him myself, Tiff. I’m fully capable,’ she said, her words measured.

  ‘But you had the appeal today, so you had more important things—’

  ‘Nothing is more important to me than my family.’ Louisa glared at her friend, her cheeks hot with anger.

  ‘I’m sorry. I thought I was doing you a favour.’

  ‘You were doing Brian a favour more like.’ Her words were edged with bitterness. And something else. Jealousy? Mistrust? Louisa didn’t want to make it into an argument with Tiff, though. She’d save the reprimanding words, the hurt and annoyance, for Brian when he got home. ‘I’m pleased Noah hasn’t lost weight.’ That was as good as a thank you as far as Louisa was concerned, and was as far as she could stretch. Tiff shifted her position on the sofa arm – Louisa thought she was going to leave, but she slid down onto the sofa cushion instead.