by A J McDine
I lifted Niamh’s hand. Dirt darkened her fingernails and an angry red scratch crossed the back of her hand, from the base of her thumb to her wrist.
‘Niamh, I’m going to find the number for the local police and call them, OK? We need to report the attack.’
Her eyes widened, and she snatched her hand back. ‘No!’
‘You don’t need to worry. I’ll be with you every step of the way,’ I promised, but she shook her head again.
‘You can’t make me.’
‘But they need to know what happened. What if he rapes someone else? We’d never forgive ourselves.’
‘It won’t happen again.’
‘You can’t know that.’ I touched her knee. ‘The police have specialist officers trained to deal with this kind of thing. And rape victims have automatic anonymity. No one will know it’s you, if that’s what you’re worried about.’ Although this was true for the UK, I had no clue if it was the case in Greece. But that was the least of our worries.
Niamh lifted her shoulders and brushed the hair off her face. ‘I’m not going to the police. I’m fine. It’s my fault for getting drunk. I deserved everything I got…’
Anger bubbled over and my voice was harsher than I intended. ‘No one deserves to be raped, Niamh. Let alone a teenage girl.’ Something terrible occurred to me. ‘Was it your first time?’
She covered her face and nodded.
‘Christ.’ I buried my head in my hands. This couldn’t be any worse. Niamh may have been eighteen, but she was still our responsibility. She’d been the victim of a sexual attack while under our care. An unwelcome thought wormed its way into my brain. Stuart said the party was a bad idea, and I mocked him for it, encouraging Niamh to have some fun with people her own age. It was my fault she was raped. And now I had to make things right. If that meant doing as she asked and not involving the police, then that was what I would do. I owed it to her.
‘Are you sure you don’t want me to call the police?’ I said.
A tear leaked out of her eye, and for a moment I thought she might change her mind. But she nodded to herself and said, ‘I have never been more sure of anything in my life. I’ll get over it. I can’t tell them anything useful, anyway. I didn’t… it wasn’t… I mean, I couldn’t…’ she broke off and stared into space.
‘I know,’ I said, wrapping my arm around her slender shoulders. ‘You already told me. It was no one you knew.’
‘Where’s Niamh, Mummy?’ Nate said as I joined him and Stuart by the pool later. I’d stayed to help Niamh clean herself up and had left her in her room with a tray of tea and toast, and a promise to text me if she needed anything. By the time I’d showered, had another coffee and soothed myself by logging into my work emails, I was feeling almost human again.
‘She’s got a poorly tummy. I’ve told her to take it easy today.’
‘That was nice of you,’ Stuart said, failing to disguise the surprise in his voice. Christ, was I really that much of a bitch?
‘Well, she deserves it,’ I said. ‘She’s worked her socks off this week looking after Master Cooper here.’ I reached over and tickled Nate’s stomach until he screeched with laughter. ‘What shall we do today?’
‘Bill is whisking Mel to some fancy-pants restaurant in Corfu Town tonight. They’re taking the boat from Kassiopi after lunch. I thought we could spend the afternoon at the beach, the three of us. And I’ll cook dinner tonight. A romantic meal for two for our last night. What d’you say?’
I tried to hide my surprise. I’d been coming onto him all week and he chose our last night to reciprocate. Desperate not to spoil the moment, I smiled. ‘I’d say it sounds perfect. Thank you.’
To an outsider looking in, our last day in Corfu was idyllic. Nate rode on Stuart’s shoulders to the beach and splashed about in the shallows for hours, spotting fish and building rudimentary castles in the tiny seams of sand. The sapphire-blue sky was cloudless, yet a gentle breeze from the sea kept the temperature just right. Stuart was as attentive as the day we met, fetching me ice-cold drinks from the taverna on the waterfront and listening as I outlined my plans for FoodWrapped’s new winter menu when normally he’d be bored witless.
After a week with other people, it was liberating to be on our own. Bill and Melanie might have been our oldest friends and Niamh our live-in au pair, but we still put on a show around them, playing the best versions of ourselves. But with Stuart and Nate, I could kick back and be me.
And it would have been as perfect as it appeared, apart from the secret I was keeping. No matter how attentive Stuart was, no matter how adorable Nate was being, Niamh was always at the forefront of my thoughts. I’d been worried she wouldn’t want us to spend the afternoon at the beach, but when I told her we were heading out, she’d seemed relieved to have the villa to herself.
Was I doing the right thing by not reporting the rape to the police? I wish I knew. But for the first time in my life, I didn’t have the answers.
I realised Stuart had stopped talking and was frowning at me. ‘Cleo, are you even listening?’
‘Sorry, I was miles away.’ I smiled. ‘What did I miss?’
‘I was apologising.’
‘Why, what’ve you done?’ I joked.
He stared skywards, scratching his neck. Apprehension tiptoed across my heart as I waited for him to elaborate. He began piling pebbles on top of each other, making a teetering tower. A diversion tactic if ever I saw one.
‘Stu?’ I said. ‘What have you got to apologise for? You’re an amazing dad, and a lovely man and a pretty hot dude, although don’t let that go to your head.’
‘I’ve been… absent this week,’ he said. ‘And I’m sorry for that.’
‘What d’you mean, absent?’
‘I don’t know, like I haven’t been fully here,’ he thumped his heart with his fist, ‘with you both. And I know you’ve been trying to make an effort and I’ve pushed you away.’
‘Don’t worry about it,’ I said lightly. ‘I know I’m not the easiest person to live with.’
‘But it’s not your fault. I knew what I signed up for when we met, and it was enough, it really was. And that’s why I’m sorry. It’s because I needed to remember that.’
‘And have you?’
He leaned forwards, cupped my face in his hands and kissed me, long and lingeringly. Spotting us, Nate came stumbling over the pebbles towards us, his arms wide, shouting ‘Group hug!’
Stuart laughed and scooped us both into an embrace. His eyes met mine. ‘In answer to your question, I have,’ he said.
‘Bill’s so sorry he’s not here to say goodbye,’ Melanie said, as Stuart loaded our suitcases into the hire car the next morning.
‘No worries,’ I said. ‘We’ll see him soon enough. When’s your flight?’
‘Monday afternoon,’ she said. She and Bill were staying on for a couple of extra days to oversee the refitting of one of the villa’s en suites. Bill had left before breakfast to pick up some fittings from a DIY store on the outskirts of Corfu Town.
‘Bill’s back at work on Tuesday?’ I checked.
‘Hey, don’t start thinking about work yet. I want your undivided attention until at least eight o’clock on Monday morning, Mrs Cooper,’ Stuart said playfully, pulling me into an embrace.
Melanie frowned. ‘You’d better make a move, or you’ll miss your flight.’
‘You’re right,’ I said. ‘Say goodbye to Auntie Mel, Nate.’ He hugged her legs and scrambled into the car next to Niamh. She’d found me the previous evening while I was reading Nate his bedtime stories and had perched on the end of the bed and listened as I read his current favourite, Room on the Broom. Normally I whizzed through stories so I could go back downstairs, log onto my laptop and check my emails, but I’d already showered and packed most of our luggage, and Stuart was cooking dinner. So for once I’d taken it seriously, using different voices for the dog and the bird and the frog, and lowering my voice to a guttural snarl for the dragon’
s lines, which had Nate in stitches.
Once the witch and her entourage were riding into the distance on their magnificent new broom, I closed the book and stroked Nate’s cheek. ‘Time for bed, sweetheart.’ His eyelids fluttered as I kissed him goodnight.
‘Want a kiss from Niamh, too,’ he said, and she wriggled off the bed and kissed his forehead.
‘Night night, Nathan,’ she whispered. In that soft Irish brogue, her words sounded like a caress, and he was already drifting off as we tiptoed out of the room.
‘Have you got a minute?’ Niamh asked.
‘Of course.’ Curious, I followed her into her room. Her suitcase was by the door, already packed, and a pair of three-quarter-length jeans and a T-shirt were folded neatly on the dressing table, ready for the morning. I wasn’t surprised she was keen to head home, given the circumstances.
‘I wanted to thank you,’ she began, and I raised my eyebrows. ‘For doing as I asked and not calling the police,’ she explained. ‘I did a lot of thinking last night, and I made a decision. I’m going to put what happened behind me and move on. I don’t want it to colour the rest of my life.’ She sounded like she was reading straight from the pages of a self-help book.
I frowned. ‘Are you sure that’s a good idea?’ Burying such a toxic event might be a defence mechanism, a way of coping, but long term it would eat her up inside, as insidious as cancer, I was sure of it. ‘I can get you help when we’re home. Private counselling or something. We don’t need to tell the police. In fact, no one need know except you and I.’
‘Thank you, but I’m sure, and you won’t talk me out of it,’ she said.
I studied her face. She was pale but calm. Resolute. She’d obviously decided, and who was I to judge whether she was right. Only time would tell.
‘OK,’ I said. ‘But on one condition. If you change your mind and decide you need help, you will come to me, won’t you? I feel responsible for what happened.’
‘You do?’ she said, surprised.
‘We’re supposed to be looking after you, and I encouraged you to go to a party on the beach with people you’d never met before. Of course I feel responsible.’
She smiled weakly. ‘You shouldn’t. It wasn’t your fault.’
This morning she’d appeared for breakfast looking, if not exactly cheerful, at least composed, and as we’d trooped out of the villa with our luggage, she’d thanked Melanie for a lovely week.
‘Come on, Cleo!’ Stuart called from the car.
I turned back to Melanie. ‘Thanks so much for everything. It’s been wonderful.’ We air-kissed and I followed Nate into the car. Stuart turned on the ignition and raised a hand in farewell as he pulled away.
I glanced in the wing mirror as the car bumped down the track, surprised to see Melanie staring after us, her arms wrapped around herself as if she was freezing, even though it was eighty degrees in the shade.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
WEDNESDAY 16 JUNE
‘As you know, we’ve had an overwhelming response to the media appeal,’ DI Jones said. ‘This afternoon someone called in to say they’d seen a young girl matching Immy’s description in Folkestone. She was with an older man at the Lower Leas Coastal Park. Do you know it?’
It was an adventure play area nestled between the cliffs and the beach, with slides and towers and climbing walls. ‘Yes, we took Nate and Immy there last summer.’
‘A woman with her kids reported seeing the girl and man using the sand diggers. She went in search of one of the park wardens to report it, but when they returned to the spot the man and child had disappeared.’
‘Why the hell didn’t she confront him?’ I cried.
‘She couldn’t be one hundred percent sure the child was Immy, only that she looked a bit like her, and she was concerned because the man looked too old to be her father.’ The DI broke away to bark an order at one of his subordinates, then came back. ‘Sorry about that. Where were we?’
‘You were telling me we might have found Immy and lost her again,’ I said through clenched teeth.
‘We have a patrol on its way to the park, and we’ve sent an officer to the council offices to check the CCTV. The entire area’s covered in cameras, and we know the exact time they were in the sandpit, so as soon as we have the footage, I’ll send it to you so you can confirm if it’s Immy or not. I don’t want you to get your hopes up because it may well not be her. But at least it shows that everyone is keeping an eye out for her. And that can only work to our advantage.’
‘I suppose you’re right,’ I said, loosening my grip on the phone. ‘Thank you.’
‘You’re welcome. I’ll be in touch as soon as I have more.’
I replaced my phone carefully on the table.
‘What’s happened?’ Melanie said.
‘They’ve had a potential sighting. Someone saw a girl who looked like Immy in Folkestone with an older man.’
Her hand flew to her mouth. ‘Oh my God.’
‘Don’t over-react. It won’t be her. Why would a paedophile take a child they’d snatched to a busy children’s play area in the middle of summer?’ I checked the time on my phone. ‘I need to pick Nate up from school.’
‘Of course,’ she said, jumping to her feet. ‘I’ll leave you in peace.’
She gathered her bag and headed down the hallway towards the front door.
‘Mel?’ I called.
She turned towards me. ‘What’s the matter?’
I rocked on my feet. ‘Nothing. Thanks for popping by.’
‘Anytime.’ She waved and let herself out of the door. I leaned against the wall and stared up at the ceiling as her car accelerated away.
Nate was tucking into a bowl of macaroni cheese when my phone pinged with a text from DI Jones. I grabbed it and clicked on the picture he’d sent. It was a grainy black and white still showing the backs of a man and young girl in the sandpit at the coastal park.
Even though I couldn’t see his face, I would have said the man was at least seventy by his slight stoop and the way he was dressed - checked long-sleeved shirt, tailored chinos and cushioned leather shoes. The girl was harder to make out. I held my breath as I zoomed in. She was sitting on the digger, her pudgy hands on the control levers, the bucket half-immersed in the sand. She had long hair that cascaded over her shoulders and she was wearing dark-coloured shorts, a light-coloured T-shirt and a sunhat.
My phone rang, and I tramped into the hallway and closed the door.
‘Is it her?’ DI Jones asked.
‘No.’
‘How can you be sure?’
‘Her hair’s all wrong. Immy’s is much thicker and about four inches shorter. Immy’s also slimmer than this girl. And what kind of paedophile bothers with a sunhat?’
The detective sighed. ‘I had a horrible feeling it wasn’t her as soon as I saw the footage, but we had to check.’
‘Of course. What happens now?’
‘We’re running quick-time inquiries to be sure. We’ve identified the car the man was driving, and an officer is on her way to the registered owner’s address as we speak. It’s in New Romney, so it might take a little while, but I’ll let you know as soon as I hear.’
‘OK. Any news on Niamh?’
‘No. I’m afraid we’ve had to stand down the PCSOs, but I’ve briefed late turn to carry out regular checks on the warehouse. It’s the best we can do. If Niamh saw the patrol car last night, I’m guessing she’s long gone, anyway.’
He was probably right. I thanked him, ended the call and fired off a text to Melanie.
It’s not her.
I ran Nate’s bath, found clean pyjamas and laid out his uniform for the following day. I moved from room to room with an almost zombie-like precision, but inside my heart was racing and my imagination was in overdrive. It was as if I was standing at a junction with half a dozen paths ahead of me, all leading towards the distant horizon. Each path represented a different future, not just for Immy, but for us as a family.
Immy dead. Immy alive, but damaged beyond recognition by events too horrific to contemplate. The end of a marriage, a family splintered. Or reconciliation and a Disney-like happy ever after.
It seemed to me, as I towel-dried Nate’s hair and squeezed toothpaste onto his toothbrush, that the path I took hinged on the decisions I made now. I could sit by and let life dictate to me, watching from the sidelines as the police continued to search for Immy, but that wasn’t my style. I was a doer; I got things done.
The front door clicked open as I kissed Nate goodnight.
‘Is that Dad?’ he asked, throwing off the duvet and swinging his legs out of bed.
I sighed, knowing there was no way Nate would go to sleep anytime soon, not once Stuart had revved him up. ‘Sounds like it. Why don’t you see?’
He skipped out of the room and thundered down the stairs. I followed more slowly, picking up dirty clothes from his floor on the way. I found them both in the kitchen. Stuart had a bottle of beer in his hand and was listening as Nate told him about his day.
Stuart’s gaze flickered in my direction. ‘Any news?’
I didn’t want to mention the potential sighting of Immy in front of Nate. ‘Nothing that can’t wait. Oh, and Melanie popped round.’
His body stiffened, the bottle halfway to his lips. ‘She did?’
‘You know Melanie. Anything to help.’ I smiled a smile that didn’t reach my eyes and stalked out of the room.
Chapter Thirty
Dusk fell just after nine o’clock. It was my cue to leave.
‘I’m popping out,’ I announced.