My Little Girl

by Shalini Boland

  Freya folds her arms across her chest and leans forward, staring intensely at me. I stare back for a moment, but can’t hold her gaze. She laughs when I look away.

  ‘It was a shock,’ Freya says. ‘No, not a shock, more of a surprise when I saw Jill with the girls at the fair rather than Oliver. I’d been looking forward to seeing him there. To imagining his reaction after he realised he’d “lost” his daughter.’ Freya does little air quotes that make me want to vomit. Hearing her admit to taking Beatrice is like being punched in the stomach. Only much, much worse.

  Freya continues talking, ignoring the fact that I’ve started shaking and sweating, that I can barely breathe. ‘My plan didn’t change when I saw it was Jill at the fair instead. That only made my task easier, because’ – Freya gives a little smile – ‘we all know how scatty Jill can be.

  ‘I planned our girls’ night out after you told me that you and Oliver were taking Bea and her friend to the fair. Firstly, I thought the night out would be a good alibi – because how could I have snatched Beatrice when I’d been on my way to meet you at a restaurant? Thankfully, it didn’t even come to that. Secondly, it would have been impossible for me to take Beatrice if you and Ollie had both been there at the fair. I had to get one of you out of the way.’

  ‘What have you done with her?’ I pant. ‘Just tell me where she is! You better not have harmed my little girl. If you’ve done anything, I’ll—’

  ‘You’ll what? You can’t do anything, Claire. You’re tied to a packing crate, in case you forgot.’ She smirks and I want to claw her face off.

  I know it’s not a good idea to antagonise Freya right now, but I’m not thinking straight. My supposed best friend has just admitted to this heinous act and I can’t do anything about it. Heedless of the agony sparking through my brain, I strain at my wrist ties and try to yank my feet free, but Freya has done too good a job of restraining me. I’m not getting free of these ties without help.

  ‘She’s just a little girl, Freya, that’s all.’ My voice breaks. ‘Beatrice has never harmed anyone. Least of all you. She loves you. How could you do anything to scare her? To hurt her?’

  ‘Oh calm down, Claire. As if I’d hurt Bea. What sort of person do you think I am?’

  I exhale, hoping and praying that what Freya says is true. ‘Do you promise she’s okay? That she’s safe?’

  ‘I’ll admit it,’ Freya continues, ignoring my question. ‘I did take Beatrice out of anger, without any real idea of what I was going to do next. Once I had her, I realised I wouldn’t be able to let her go without incriminating myself. Because, of course, she’s seen me now. She’s been spending a few fun days with Aunty Freya. She thinks she’s having a nice holiday.’

  ‘Thank God,’ I mutter. All these dark thoughts I’ve been having, imagining the very worst things. And all this time she’s been fine. Happy, even, with one of her favourite people. Freya has always indulged Beatrice. ‘Where is she?’ I snap. ‘Is she in that caravan you stole?’

  Freya glares at me. ‘I’m telling you what happened. Be patient, okay? As I was saying, I was worried about being incriminated. So, the best way to avoid that was to set someone else up. It was pretty easy actually. I managed to find Laurel’s scarf on the ground during last weekend’s search party. I stuffed it into my bag without touching it, using one of Beatrice’s “lost” signs to pick it up so it didn’t get contaminated with my fingerprints. I also fished Laurel’s sandwich wrapper and water bottle out of the bin. Planted all of them in that abandoned boat for Jill to find. Pretty good, hey?

  ‘So now Laurel and her boyfriend are in custody, and there are all sorts of other suspects floating around. I thought Gavin Holloway was a particularly good one.’

  I realise I’d almost forgotten about the choirmaster, since the discovery of Laurel’s scarf on the boat and then Kai’s subsequent tip-off about the caravan theft. So much had been going on. Holloway must be innocent.

  Freya confirms my deduction. ‘I started the rumour about Holloway being at the fair myself, by having a little gossip with a couple of the farm labourers. Dad helped me out nicely with that one.’

  My mouth drops in horror. ‘Your dad? Don’t tell me he knows about this too.’ The thought of Trevor Collins helping with Beatrice’s abduction is somehow even worse than Freya’s betrayal. My skin grows cold and bile rises in the back of my throat as my fear escalates. I can’t believe Freya’s father is part of this madness. Trevor and Lynn are good people, surely.

  Freya rolls her eyes at my question. ‘As if. No. Dad just happened to conveniently repeat the rumour about Holloway while you were at the house. My parents don’t know anything. They wouldn’t understand what I’ve done. They met young, married young, never had to go through what I did. They don’t have a clue what my life’s been like.’ She shakes her head in exasperation. ‘They were so lucky. That’s all I wanted for myself. Someone to love. A family.’

  ‘You can still have a family.’ I’m desperate to get through to her. ‘Why don’t you get back in touch with Joe? Tell him you’ve changed your mind. You can still have it all. You don’t need to do this.’

  ‘He’s married to someone else,’ Freya says flatly.

  ‘What?’

  ‘After we split, Joe went travelling. Met a Kiwi girl and they got married. I saw the wedding photos on Instagram.’

  I clamp my jaw shut, not wanting to say something that might make this even worse.

  ‘Anyway, I’m not talking about Joe any more. I don’t even want to think about him. Don’t mention his name, okay?’ Freya glares at me and I give a single nod that sends flares of pain across my skull. ‘So, I wanted to end this whole abduction charade. I was going to figure out a way to do it. I’ve already told Bea to tell the police that it was Laurel who took her. Told her it would be our special secret.’

  ‘You said what?’

  Freya ignores my question, continuing with her confession. ‘So my plans were all on track until that bloody fairground boy tipped you off about the caravan.’

  I exhale. ‘So Beatrice is in there? You stole the caravan and then stole my daughter, and you hid her in that caravan?’

  ‘I did. Which is why I couldn’t let you go to the police station and tell them about it. Which is also why I took your phone out of your bag before we left your house. It’s currently lurking in one of your kitchen drawers.’

  I blink furiously, stunned at the endless deceptions of the woman I thought was my best friend. I am, however, massively relieved that in my haste to tell the police, I omitted to tell Freya that I left a voice message for Jill, explaining about the stolen caravan. So, even if something bad happens to me, at least Jill will make sure the police find Beatrice. Please, God, let her have listened to my message already and be on the case.

  Freya stands up again and stares down at me with contempt in her eyes. ‘Now that Laurel’s out of the way, in police custody, soon to be imprisoned for abduction, all that’s left is to remove you from the equation and then maybe I can finally have my chance with Oliver. And with Bea of course. We can be the family we were always supposed to be.’

  I let out a disbelieving snort. ‘You know you don’t stand a chance of getting away with this. What you’re suggesting is ludicrous. I thought you were more intelligent than this, Freya.’

  She stiffens and then immediately relaxes. ‘I already told you, Bea’s agreed to say she’s been with Laurel – the lady with red hair. She was excited about keeping her fun holiday with Aunty Freya a secret.’

  My blood seethes and boils at the thought of Freya making my daughter lie. ‘You haven’t got a clue,’ I scoff. ‘Beatrice will never be able to keep quiet about it. You obviously don’t know how lousy kids are at keeping secrets.’

  Freya’s face tightens, but suddenly she grows thoughtful and starts pacing the dusty floor of the barn. After a moment, she stops and narrows her eyes. ‘Okay. Thanks for your input, Claire. So now I’m in a dilemma, aren’t I? If Beatrice won’t
keep our holiday a secret, then what will I have to do to shut her up?’

  Too late, I realise my mistake. Fear oozes from every pore in my body. ‘No,’ I plead. ‘You were right,’ I add, trying to make myself sound less desperate, more casual. ‘Of course Bea will listen to you. She’ll think it’s a game. What I said before… I was wrong, I was just trying to piss you off. Of course Beatrice will keep your secret. You know that. We all will.’

  But Freya isn’t stupid. She knows I’m lying to save my family. ‘Too late, Claire. I don’t believe you. Looks like you and Bea will both have to have an accident.’

  Fifty

  JILL

  The interior of the barn is cool and dark, but I wish I’d stayed outside, because what I’m hearing right now is making me nauseous.

  When I arrived, I waited outside for a few minutes in the hope that Freya’s angry rant would stop at some point, giving me an opportunity, a pause in the conversation to walk in and find out what was going on. Maybe even try to mediate. But there was no gap; her voice just went on and on. So eventually I chanced it and snuck in through the crack in the open door, stepping out of the light and pressing myself back against the barn wall where Freya’s monologue suddenly became clear as a ringing bell.

  I’ve been in here for a while now, creeping along in the shadows of the cool stone walls. The content of Freya’s conversation is so crazy that I almost wonder if I might be hallucinating. The biggest shock is seeing the terrible state of my poor daughter-in-law. She’s tied to a crate and there’s dried blood in her hair and all down her face. I’m surprised she can even see, because it looks like there’s blood stuck to her eyelids.

  ‘Don’t think I can’t see you there, Jill, skulking about in the shadows. Who do you think you are? Special Forces?’

  I freeze, my heart clattering against my ribcage as Freya turns around and skewers me with her gaze. Should I try to run? There’s no way I could get away from her. She looks lithe and strong. Tough. She’s a farmer used to dealing with heavy machinery and livestock. A pensioner like myself would stand no chance, even with the benefit of my Pilates classes. I cast around for something heavy. Maybe I could thwack her over the head. Who am I kidding? She’d use whatever I had against me. My shoulders go limp as I realise it’s hopeless.

  ‘Jill!’ Claire cries. ‘Run!’

  I stare over at my daughter-in-law, trying to convey an apology in my eyes.

  Freya walks towards me. ‘That’s right, Jill. No point running or fighting. You’ll only get hurt. Although it looks like that might be an inevitable outcome anyway.’ Her tone suddenly changes. ‘Where’s your phone?’ she barks. ‘Did you call anyone?’

  ‘My phone’s dead, Freya.’

  She holds out a hand and I drop my lifeless mobile into her palm. She examines it for a moment before nodding, satisfied, and slipping it into her pocket.

  Claire looks up at me with sorrow in her eyes. ‘Jill! Why did you come here?’

  ‘I saw you in Freya’s Land Rover and I followed you.’

  ‘But why? I left you a message. I asked you to go to the police station.’

  ‘Oh dear.’ Freya gives Claire a sarcastic frown. ‘What a surprise, renegade Jill didn’t do as she was told.’ Freya turns to face me with an insincere smile. ‘You’ve made quite a few mistakes this week, haven’t you, Jill? She grips my upper arm and drags me across the barn towards Claire, who shoots me a look loaded with frustration and desperation.

  ‘Jill, I thought I made it clear you were supposed to tell the police about the caravan! I can’t believe you came here! Now it’s hopeless.’

  Freya’s eyes widen as she looks from me to Claire. ‘Oh.’ She shakes her head at Claire. ‘So you did message Jill about the caravan. Well played, Claire. You kept that hidden nicely from me. It’s a shame scatty Jill didn’t listen to you. Well, a shame for you anyway. Lucky for me though.’ Freya pushes me down on to the hard stone floor. I land on my bottom and the impact judders through my body, my teeth clamping together painfully.

  Did that hurt?’ Freya sneers. ‘Looks like old age is catching up with you, Jill. Never mind, maybe I’ll put you out of your misery.’

  I flush. But this time it’s not with embarrassment or shame or fear, it’s with anger at this horrible woman who’s put my family through such an ordeal. I’d really like to give her a piece of my mind, but perhaps now isn’t the best time. Then again… ‘What happened to you, Freya? I always thought you were such a nice girl. Your mother and father will be heartbroken by what you’ve done.’

  ‘Stay there and don’t move.’ She turns away for a moment to reach for something behind her.

  ‘Run,’ Claire hisses down at me.

  ‘No, she’ll catch me,’ I whisper back.

  Claire grimaces and inhales. ‘I know, but isn’t it worth a try?’

  I shake my head. ‘How are you feeling?’ I murmur. ‘You don’t look good, Claire.’ I take a closer look at the dried blood. ‘Did she hit you?’

  ‘Why did you come here?’ Claire groans and tosses me another look of disappointment.

  Freya turns back to face us. She’s holding a ball of nylon twine and some kind of multitool. She flicks out a blade and slices off a long length of the twine, using it to tie my wrists and ankles together so that I’m bent forwards at an uncomfortable angle. I can tell this is going to become very painful very quickly.

  ‘I’m going out for a short while to check on my little guest,’ Freya says briskly. ‘Make the most of your time, you don’t have much left.’

  We both watch as she strides away across the barn towards the open door.

  Once I gauge that she’s out of earshot, I whisper to my daughter-in-law. ‘Don’t worry, Claire.’

  ‘How can you even say that!’ she hisses back. ‘You heard her. She’s got Bea. She’s going to get rid of us. You’ve screwed this up! We both have.’

  I don’t take offence at her tone. She’s got every right to be angry and terrified. ‘Claire, listen. While I was “skulking” in here, I found a few bars of phone signal and used my last four per cent of battery to text the police inspector. I told her exactly where we were, and that Freya Collins was holding you captive. I told them Freya’s blue Land Rover is parked outside. I wasn’t sure if the message had got through, but just before my screen went dead, I got a text back saying: Hold tight. We’re on the way. They’re on their way, Claire. The police know we’re here.’

  Claire’s jaw falls open before her whole face crumples with emotion and relief. ‘Oh, Jill, I can’t believe it. I honestly thought… I just…’

  ‘I know, I know.’ I wish I weren’t tied up so I could give her a hug. I’ve never seen anyone more in need of one. ‘I sent the same message to Ollie.’

  I realise Claire is sobbing and I wish I could put my arms around her. She gazes down at me, her tears making tracks down bloodstained cheeks, dripping off her chin. ‘I can’t believe you did that. Jill, you’re an absolute bloody hero.’

  I gaze towards the open barn door just as Freya comes back into view and pulls it closed behind her, plunging us both into darkness.

  For a moment, there’s nothing but the sound of our jagged breathing and Claire’s soft sobs of relief. Thankfully, it’s not completely dark in here; a few patches of light filter in through chinks in the roof and walls, and my eyes slowly adjust to the gloom.

  An engine starts up. Freya’s Land Rover.

  ‘I hope the police get here soon,’ Claire stammers.

  ‘Don’t worry. I’m sure they will.’

  A few minutes later, a juddering noise makes us both look up.

  ‘Is that…?’ Claire’s voice trails off.

  ‘A helicopter,’ I finish her sentence.

  ‘Do you think it’s the police?’

  I can now hear the sound of a siren getting louder. And another. ‘Oh, I’m certain of it,’ I reply.

  Fifty-One

  FREYA

  I bump across the top field in my Lan
d Rover, away from Claire and Jill tied up in the barn. ‘Bloody Jill and her bloody sleuthing,’ I mutter to myself.

  I’d only just got used to the idea that I was going to have to get rid of Claire and Bea, and now I’m going to have to deal with Jill too. I didn’t want to do any of that, but they’ve forced my hand. I reach the gate, hop out and yank it open. The lane is deserted, thank goodness. I edge out of the field and take the time to close the gate behind me before climbing back into the Land Rover and heading up the lane.

  I’ll have to arrange an accident of some kind… something believable. At least the police don’t know about the caravan. I still have time to think of something – something that I can pin on Laurel. But I’d better do it fast.

  A distant sound settles on the edge of my hearing, but I don’t have the bandwidth to pay it any attention. I need to think of a plan. ‘Bloody Jill,’ I mutter again. Her arrival has made everything ten times harder. I can’t let her ruin my goal of being with Oliver again.

  I know I’d decided that it was too risky to let Beatrice live, but I wonder if there’s any way I can keep her. When all is said and done, I do have a soft spot for the girl. My plan was for the three of us to be a family – me, Ollie and Bea. But without Beatrice, how will that happen? I shake my head to clear it, to stop the crowd of thoughts and emotions taking over. What I need is some calm, quiet time to think.

  What IS that noise? I glance behind me to see a small dark shape in the sky, growing bigger, getting closer. I swallow and blink, my stomach grinding. No. It’s just a coincidence. That helicopter is nothing to do with me.

  Nevertheless, I speed up a little and take the next left turn. Hopefully, the helicopter will keep going straight ahead to wherever it’s headed. I glance in my rear-view mirror to see it veering left towards me, drawing closer, the juddering of its blades now almost deafening. I spot the words POLICE emblazoned across the side. ‘Shit, shit, shit! No!’