My Little Girl

by Shalini Boland

  ‘Freya?’ My voice comes out as a whisper. I swallow, trying to get some saliva to lubricate my throat. There’s a metallic taste in my mouth. I think it might be blood. ‘Freya, are you okay?’ This time it comes out as a croak.

  ‘You’re awake then?’

  I recognise that voice.

  A pair of feet appear in front of me. Small feet wearing grey trainers.

  I recognise those feet.

  I force my chin up off my chest, wincing through the pain in my skull and neck. I see green cargo shorts, a strappy black vest top, shiny chestnut hair framing a tanned freckled face.

  I recognise that face.

  ‘Freya,’ I say, clearly this time.

  ‘Hey, Claire. Wasn’t sure if I might have killed you. Gave you a pretty hefty clomp to the head.’ Her voice is trying to be light and friendly, but I can hear the tight note of tension behind it. Her jaw is taut and her eyes are glittering strangely.

  ‘You,’ I breathe. ‘You… hit me?’ A weak light is filtering in from somewhere and my eyes are growing accustomed to the gloom, despite the strange stickiness in my eyelashes. The air is thick and humid. I’m so thirsty. ‘What’s going on?’ I ask.

  ‘Ah, okay. So I guess we’re going to do this now.’

  ‘Do what? Freya, what’s happening? You brought me here, you knocked me out?’ I feel like I’m in some alternate reality.

  ‘Hang on a sec.’ Freya moves out of my field of vision. I daren’t turn to see where she’s gone – I can just about cope with the throbbing ache in my head, but I am absolutely not ready to face the other skull-searing pain triggered when I move my neck. She returns seconds later with another packing crate that she places directly opposite me and uses as a seat.

  ‘Freya. What’s all this about?’ As soon as I ask the question, my daughter’s face flashes into my mind and a stab of terror replaces the pain in my head. ‘Beatrice! Do you have her? Is she here? You didn’t… you didn’t do anything bad, did you?’

  ‘Shh, calm down, Claire. Not that anyone can hear you all the way up here, but I need you to be quiet and let me explain the whole thing so that you can understand it properly, okay?’

  I feel like screaming, yelling, cursing, crying. But there’s no telling what this new version of Freya will do. She might just knock me out again and I can’t afford for that to happen, so I’m going to have to play this her way while I think about how to get free. ‘Okay,’ I force myself to say through gritted teeth.

  Freya gives me an appraising look. ‘First of all, you can stop looking at me in that judgemental way, because you have absolutely no fucking idea what it’s been like for me. No idea whatsoever.’

  I gulp, unsure whether to comment. I think it’s safer to stay silent for the moment.

  ‘You know that Ollie and I had a thing when we were at school, right?’

  I nod. I did know this, but according to both of them it was no big deal. There had been a big group of friends and, to hear them talk about it, they all went out with one another at different times while they were teenagers.

  ‘Well, Ollie and I were in love, and we were each other’s firsts, if you know what I mean? You never forget your first time, right?’ She gives a bitter laugh.

  This is news to me. Oliver never mentioned it. We’ve never been bothered about each other’s previous relationships. But the thought of Freya and Oliver together like that makes my stomach lurch uncomfortably.

  Freya grimaces. ‘What Ollie never knew back then was that I got pregnant. And I…’ she swallows. ‘I got rid of it.’

  I can’t help a gasp escaping my lips.

  ‘I know, right?’ She gives me a sarcastic smile, but I don’t buy her unemotional act.

  ‘You didn’t tell him?’ I ask.

  ‘No. Because that’s how much I loved him. I didn’t want to ruin our relationship with the drama of a teen pregnancy and having to make a big choice and all that crap. So I spared him the pain and went through it by myself.’ Freya’s voice is light, as though what she’s telling me is no big deal, but her jaw is tense and her eyes are shot through with pain.

  ‘What about your mum and dad? Did they know?’

  ‘Nope. I arranged it all on my own. Didn’t want anyone finding out and spreading rumours. I know that once you tell one person, you don’t have a hope in hell of keeping it quiet. I debated about whether or not to tell my parents, but I was too scared of their reactions. They were pretty strict with me back then, being the only girl. My brothers were even worse, completely overprotective. So I got it done and assumed Ollie and I would carry on where we left off. But then – spoiler alert – he finished with me anyway.’ She curls her lip at the memory. ‘Said that he loved me but we were better off as friends. That we were too young to settle down.’

  No matter what Freya’s become now, I still feel sorry for the teenager she was back then. For what it must have been like to go through something like that alone. ‘So he really had no idea about the pregnancy?’

  ‘I already told you, no.’ She shoots me an exasperated glare.

  I’m desperate to ask about Beatrice, but I daren’t make her angry. It takes all my willpower to let her continue without interruption.

  ‘At first I was gutted. But then I realised that if I wanted this to work, I needed to give him space. Ollie and I were in love, we were amazing together. Perfect. We made each other laugh and we loved all the same things – the same bands, same films, all that stuff that was so important back then. The stuff that bonds you. That binds you. It’s just that the timing was off. We were too young. I think he noticed a change in me after the pregnancy. I was probably a bit withdrawn for a while. So I thought I’d give us both a few years to play the field, have fun, sow our wild oats, all that stuff. Then, we could find one another again. Pick up where we left off. Only I left it too long because then he met Laurel Palmer.’ Freya’s voice curdles over her name.

  ‘She was this supposed free spirit, this incredible artist, blah, blah, blah. Ollie confided in me about everything. We’d stayed friends – I made sure of that because I was waiting for the right moment for our friendship to turn into something more. And then this fucking hippy bitch steals him from right under my nose. You can see how that’s pretty unfair, right?’ Freya fixes me with a look that demands an acknowledgement, so I give a half nod and a shrug.

  ‘Right. So I thought I’d have to wait it out. That after a while they’d break up, and then I’d be able to be the one to comfort him. I thought it could actually work out better than I’d originally planned. But then he went and proposed to her, and I had to pretend to be happy for them. I almost gave up on Oliver after that. But when you’re someone’s soulmate, it’s not that easy to walk away… I did split them up eventually – planted so many seeds of doubt in Ollie’s mind about Laurel cheating on him that he just couldn’t trust her. Their arguments were legendary – so much smashed crockery, you wouldn’t believe it.’

  While Freya’s telling me about her sick games and plans, all I can think about is my daughter. Surely Freya wouldn’t harm a child to get what she wants? Would she? Looking at her crazed expression, and hearing these insane justifications for her actions, I’m not so sure. This is not the Freya I know. I don’t recognise this woman at all.

  I pull at my wrists and try to angle my fingers to tug at the rope, but without getting a look at what I’m doing, it’s impossible. Besides, Freya is sitting right in front of me. There’s no opportunity for me to do anything without her seeing. How did I let myself end up in this situation? How did I not see what Freya’s really like? Am I that stupid? That gullible?

  Freya’s still talking, and everything she’s saying sounds like fiction. But there’s a saying, isn’t there, that truth is stranger than fiction. She stares at a spot past my head, lost in her recollections. ‘Once Laurel and Oliver’s divorce came through, I felt so much lighter. Like I could finally breathe again. Ollie leaned on me heavily after that. We were almost inseparable. I saw h
im through all those dark times when he was sick with jealousy over Laurel’s imagined lovers, and desperate with grief at his failed marriage.

  ‘Once he started coming out of the fog, I arranged a few days away at a festival to cheer him up, inviting all his friends, but planning to finally make my move. I’d been getting really strong signals from him that he was falling for me again, but I wanted to play a little hard to get. Wanted him to do all the running.’ Freya sighs and her eyes go glassy at the memory. ‘So we went to the festival. It was at the Larmer Tree. You remember that, don’t you, Claire?’ Freya refocuses her eyes and stares directly at me.

  My stomach drops. That’s where I met Ollie for the first time. Where we fell for one another. Hard. ‘Freya, I had no idea you were even interested in him. If I’d known…’

  Freya wrinkles her nose. ‘You’d have what? Stepped aside? I doubt that very much. I could see you were besotted.’

  She’s right. Of course I wouldn’t have stepped aside. I’d seen Oliver Nolan and it had been electric from the start. Nothing would have stood in my way. Or his. Freya and I weren’t even friends at the time.

  As I listen to Freya pour out her deepest darkest secrets, I feel a strange mixture of pity and revulsion. She’s had all these feelings for my husband that she hasn’t allowed out for years. She’s been nurturing them all this time and I had no clue. Nor did Oliver by the sound of it.

  Freya sighs. ‘I gave up on Ollie after that. Not completely, I still harboured a hope that maybe one day something might happen. But I stopped actively planning to get back with him. I decided that I needed to move on. To meet someone new. I tried. I had lots of relationships, as you know, being my best friend and all that.’

  Freya gives me a smile that chills the marrow in my bones. How could I ever have thought I knew this woman? She’s a complete stranger to me. Was it all an act? Has she been playing a role all these years, secretly mocking me while trying to stifle her jealousy? The thought makes me shudder.

  If Freya had truly given up on Oliver, then why did she choose to befriend me? Surely, if she was trying to get over him, the last thing she would have wanted was to be best friends with his new wife. And yet that’s what she chose to do. Our friendship has meant that she’s been able to stay close to Ollie. To hear everything about his life through me. I’ve confided almost everything – our celebrations, bad patches, everyday arguments… she’s had a front-row seat to all of it.

  So if she’s lying about having given up on the two of them ever getting together… what happens next?

  Forty-Eight

  JILL

  I park in a shallow lay-by further up the road and walk back towards the field’s entrance, curious yet unsettled by Freya and Claire’s decision to come here rather than go to the police station, where Claire assured me in her voicemail that she was headed. Has something happened to change her plan? Has she got some new evidence? Another tip-off from someone? Or could this be something to do with the caravan in Clare’s message?

  Another reason I decided to follow Freya and Claire towards Hurn rather than go to the police station like I’d planned was to keep an eye on Freya’s erratic driving. I was worried they were going to have a crash. Freya tore up the lanes as though there was a forest fire chasing them.

  She passed by her farmhouse and sped alongside field after field. By the time I caught up to them, I glimpsed the rear of her Land Rover disappearing through a field gate. They didn’t spot me behind them but, to be fair, I could barely keep up. I’m not confident driving along these narrow country lanes. I didn’t want to beep my horn or flash my lights at them to let them know I was there, in case Freya braked suddenly or I caused her to swerve. She already had one near miss with that cyclist.

  As I walk back towards the field’s entrance, the road is quiet, thank goodness, as I’m not sure there’s room for a car to squeeze past without squashing me into one of the bramble-covered hedges. The air is heavy and still. I make out the distant hum of traffic from the main road and the sound of a crow cawing in a nearby field. Unfortunately, the hedge is too thick to peer through to see what Freya and Claire are up to, but I reach the metal gate soon enough.

  It’s closed and I wonder how easy it’s going to be to climb over, but when I give it a little push, it swings open silently. I edge through the gap, picking my way over the cattle grid, and push the gate closed behind me. I hope Claire’s not going to mind me showing up like this. Maybe I shouldn’t have come. But a wild voice in my head is telling me to keep going.

  I shield my eyes against the glare of the sun as I gaze around the sloping field. There’s a large stone barn at the top end and I make out the blue smudge of Freya’s Land Rover parked out front. The field is huge and the heat is merciless. I wish I’d worn a hat. No good wishing.

  I trudge across the patchy grass. The field looks smooth from a distance, a soft, swelling rise, but up close it’s pitted with humps and dips, hillocks and rabbit holes, as well as being rock-solid after weeks of no rain and hot sun. The walk uphill is making my legs ache and I’m paranoid about twisting an ankle. At least I’m reasonably fit and I also have a small bottle of water in my handbag which I’m looking forward to opening.

  Finally, I reach the barn, and it’s heaven to stand in its cool shade. The wooden door is partially open and I can hear voices inside. Or rather, I can hear Freya’s voice. She sounds agitated. I remain outside the door for a moment, wondering whether or not to interrupt. If they’re having an argument, they might not take kindly to me barging in. Especially as Claire specifically asked me to go to the police station. I pluck my water bottle from my handbag and take a few refreshing swigs, hoping the cool liquid will clear my head and help me decide what to do.

  Forty-Nine

  CLAIRE

  Freya eases herself up off her packing crate and prowls around the barn, stretching her arms out in front of her, something I wish I could do. My feet are cramping and my arms ache so badly.

  ‘I thought I might have actually found happiness again with Joe.’ She’s talking about her most recent boyfriend. He ended his relationship with her last May, after two years together, but Freya never gave me a reason for it. She just said that Joe had fallen out of love with her. I’d been angry with him on her behalf, wanting to confront him and ask him what the hell he was playing at. But Freya had forbidden me from doing it. Made me promise that I’d leave him alone. I couldn’t understand it. They’d seemed so happy together.

  ‘I was sorry about that,’ I offer. ‘I was furious with him.’

  Freya’s eyes soften. ‘I know you were. But you never knew the real reason we split.’ She pauses and comes and perches back on the edge of the crate. ‘Ugh, this thing is so uncomfortable.’ Freya grimaces and then gives me a spiteful look, knowing full well that I must be ten times more uncomfortable than she is.

  ‘Joe always wanted a family,’ she says, ‘so we decided to start trying.’

  ‘I never knew that.’

  ‘That’s because I didn’t tell you.’ She tosses her hair. ‘I wanted to get pregnant and then announce it to everyone. But of course, this is me and my shitty luck we’re talking about. After eight months of trying, I went to see a fertility specialist who informed me that – surprise! – I’m now infertile.’

  ‘Oh, Freya.’ Even knowing all the despicable acts she’s carried out over the past decade or so, I still somehow feel sorry for her.

  ‘Yeah, I know. Tragic, right?’ She flashes me a cold smile. ‘My doctor couldn’t tell me whether it was because of the termination I’d had when I was younger or not, but I’m sure it didn’t help. After all, I wasn’t always infertile. I told Joe that he didn’t have to stay with me. That he should find someone who can give him a family. He acted all noble and said that he still loved me and wanted us to stay together and maybe we could try surrogacy or adopt or something. But I wasn’t about to let him stay with me out of pity. That’s not what I wanted at all.’

  ‘It would
n’t have been pity,’ I offer. ‘Joe loved you.’

  ‘Shut up, Claire. You can be so patronising sometimes; you know that, right?’

  I flush and bite my tongue.

  ‘Anyway,’ Freya says airily, ‘after Joe left, I got to thinking. Why the hell did I let you and Oliver get away with stealing my happiness? I gave up far too soon. I handed both of you my friendship and you took it so easily, like it cost me nothing. Like it was your right to have it. You both used me horribly. Not only that, but Oliver took away my chance to have children, to have a family with a good man.’

  I want to stick up for my husband. To tell Freya that it wasn’t exactly Oliver’s fault that she couldn’t have children. He’d had no choice in the matter. He hadn’t even known she was pregnant. Hadn’t known about the termination. I know it must have been a tough decision for her. It’s not my place to pass judgement on what she did back then, but I do have to stop her doing something terrible right now.

  That bump on the head has made me really woozy, but Freya’s still talking so I’m trying my hardest to take it all in.

  She shakes her head regretfully. ‘Joe and I could have been really happy. We could have built a good life together. Maybe not as good as the one Ollie and I should have had, but good enough. I spent the last year or so thinking about what I could do to make things right. To balance the scales back in my favour. Because life doesn’t do that for us. We have to do it ourselves. It’s not true that when one door closes another door opens. In my case, all the fucking doors slam shut in my face, and it’s just not fair!’

  I let out a slow breath. Freya’s face is twisted into a snarl that doesn’t even look human. I’m starting to worry about what her endgame might be. She’s seriously not right in the head. Something is very broken inside and I’m fearful for my daughter’s as well as my own life. Because it’s pretty bloody obvious now that Freya Collins is behind Beatrice’s abduction and I have no idea what she’s planning.