I dived inside, slammed the door closed, and pulled across the bolts, my whole body shaking. I grabbed my phone and thumped in 999, peering through the gap in the curtains.
‘Which service please?’ a woman on the other end asked.
The road was silent. He’d gone. Disappeared into the shadows.
‘Mummy?’ I turned to see Grace, hugging her toy rabbit, her hair tangled from sleep. ‘What are you looking at?’
‘Nothing, darling,’ I said, ending the call. ‘Nothing at all.’
Chapter 18
November 1989
At two o’clock the sky was a swirl of blacks and greys. In fact, it had barely got light all day. And, like most days that winter, it hung heavy on Laura’s shoulders. Slow and mind-numbing. Even painting failed to lift her.
She stood at the lounge window looking out. The lake rippled and lapped in the near distance, vivid through the glade now most of the trees had lost their leaves.
Her voice, low and rhythmic, quietly chanted the words of Yeats’s poem ‘The Lake Isle of Innisfree’ over and over and over.
Was she going crazy? Did she need help? She certainly didn’t feel like herself any more. The young woman who had gone to university and fell in love with Jude had disappeared when he never called.
Lately, she was finding it harder and harder to go out. One day inside the house had joined hands with the next and the next. This place is my prison.
It had been far too long since she’d ventured further than the lonely woods, and even longer since he had driven into Sligo Town. She ordered her shopping by phone to be delivered by the grocery shop in the village, and everything else she needed she ordered by post. Had she become a recluse? A hermit, living off her parents’ money, in her parents’ oddly shaped house. She felt sure if she were a man, she would have a beard by now, possibly down to her belly button, and animals would have set up home there.
A loud shrieking mew echoed throughout the house, breaking the silence, and she spun round to see Rachel dragging the stray cat Laura had adopted a few weeks before, into the room by his tail.
‘Rachel!’ she yelled, racing over, as the child went to bite his tail. ‘No!’ she said, pulling back the child’s tightly gripped fingers from the poor cat. ‘What have I told you about being cruel to Rusty?’
As soon as the cat was free he bolted from the room, and Laura stared at her daughter, her hand gripping her wrist. ‘Let’s go for a walk,’ she said, waltzing her into the hall, the child’s feet inches from the floor. Laura snatched Rachel’s hat and coat from the rack.
‘No!’ Rachel squealed, wiggling, her free hand bashing against Laura’s hip. ‘No!’
It was always an effort trying to get the child to put her arms into the coat sleeves, her feet into boots, and Laura had given up so many times before. But today she was determined. ‘We’re going out, whether you like it or not,’ she said, twisting the child’s arm and stuffing it into the pink fabric. Rachel screamed out in pain, and began to cry.
‘Sorry, sorry,’ Laura said, pulling Rachel to her, tears filling her eyes. ‘I didn’t mean to hurt you. But if you did as you were told, it wouldn’t happen.’
Eventually Rachel stopped crying, and they headed out into the woods, hand in hand. Laura breathed in the fresh, cold air. She should come out more. Fight her fear.
She hadn’t seen Imogen and the children for over a year, but it hadn’t stopped her worrying about them. She’d thought many times about calling someone to check on them – but doubts always nagged at her. What if they came and couldn’t see what was happening, and Tierney took it out on Imogen and the children? In the weeks after Imogen had shown her the burns on her arms, Laura had walked the length of the woods several times to watch Lough End Farm from a distance. She would hear Tierney’s booming voice, but never saw him hurt the children.
Today she wouldn’t go that way. She would take Rachel to the water’s edge and teach her about the wildlife. She’d often seen the child stomp the life out of spiders and ladybirds, and wanted her to understand that everything had a right to live, however small.
Once they were sitting by the lake, Rachel smiled up at her, and a flow of warmth wrapped itself around Laura. Maybe their love for each other would grow in time.
‘So,’ she began, trying to get Rachel’s attention. ‘As it’s winter, lots of animals are asleep.’
‘Are they tired?’
‘Yes, and they have to save their energy up for the summer months.’
‘Aha.’
‘There are foxes about though. If we’re quiet we might see one. Someone once told me that foxes make great mummies and daddies.’
‘Laura?’
She turned to see Dillon standing nearby, and a surge of happiness filled her senses. She’d missed him.
‘Hey,’ Laura said, lifting her hand. ‘I haven’t seen you for so long. How are you?’
He looked over his shoulder, and crouched down. ‘I’m not meant to be here, but I often come, just in case I see you.’
‘How’s Imogen? Is she OK?’
He shook his head. ‘Not good.’
Laura levered herself to her feet, and walked towards him, twigs crunching under her feet, breaking into the quiet. ‘Is there anything I can do?’
He shrugged. ‘Dunno. S’pose I came because I thought you could help. But truth be told, how can you? There’s nothing anyone can do.’ Another glance over his shoulder.
A loud thud behind Laura startled her, and she twisted round to see a young fox scampering away. Rachel was on her feet, laughing. ‘Silly fox,’ she said.
‘She threw a rock at it,’ Dillon said. ‘I saw her. Da would say she needs taking in hand. A good beating.’ He paused for a moment before adding, ‘Stupid bastard.’
Laura raced over to her daughter, and crouched down in front of her, taking hold of the girl’s muddy hands. Was this Laura’s fault? Was her child born like this, or had she made her this way? ‘Rachel, you must be kind to animals.’
‘Why?’ the little girl said.
‘Because they have as much right to be in the woods as we do – if not more.’
Laura looked back to where Dillon had been standing, hoping he might help her convince her two-and-half-year-old she should be kind. But he’d gone.
Chapter 19
February 2018
I hadn’t slept well, my mind going over and over what the man had said, but I had to push it to the back of mind, at least until Grace was at nursery school. I couldn’t let her see me agitated. She needed a strong mum, one who would show her that everything would be OK now her daddy wasn’t living with us.
It had been a milder night, and most of the snow and ice had thawed. I felt sure Grace’s nursery school wouldn’t close for a third day. It had been great spending time with her, but I couldn’t afford to lose money by cancelling more of my therapy sessions.
Once the morning ritual of chasing Grace up the stairs to clean her teeth and get dressed was over, and the breakfast table was afloat with Rice Krispies and a puddle of milk, I knew I wasn’t going to get a call from the school.
‘Looks as though you’ve got nursery today,’ I said, giving her face a second clean with a wet wipe.
‘YAY!’ she cried, and ran to get her coat and Peppa Pig rucksack.
We walked down the path towards the car, and I noticed Angela’s curtain move. I would talk to her later – ask if she was OK after the man raised his voice at her, and make sure she hadn’t taken offence that I hadn’t left Grace with her on her snow days.
I strapped Grace into the back of the car, climbed into the front, and was about to start the engine, when my phone pinged. It was a text from an unfamiliar number, and as I read the message my insides turned liquid:
Meet me outside the Emirates Stadium, opposite Costa, at noon today. There are things you should know.
I threw my phone onto the passenger seat, and locked the doors, scanning the road, before pulling away too fast, and sk
idding across black ice.
‘Weeeeeeee,’ Grace said, and giggled. ‘Do it again, Mummy.’
I turned into the skid and gained control of the car, and drove at a sensible speed to Grace’s nursery. Once I’d dropped her off, I sat in the car park gathering my thoughts.
Was it the same man who’d tried to talk to me the night before? Should I meet him? Would he explain the odd things that had been happening?
It was just after nine. My first appointment was at half past, the second at 10.45. I could just make it to the Emirates Stadium if I wasn’t picking up Grace at midday. I knew I couldn’t take her with me. But I had to go. Whoever he was, he’d picked a busy location. He would hardly hurt me in full view of hundreds of people, would he?
I fumbled in my bag for my phone and called Zoe, desperately needing to talk things through with her before I did anything rash. As soon as she picked up, I told her about the man who approached me the night before.
‘And now I’ve had a text, and I think it’s the same man,’ I said. ‘He says there are things I should know. And there’s something else, I keep thinking he’s the same man who called the TV studio – the same man who told me my mother had died. I’m sure it’s the same voice.’
‘Oh my God, Rachel,’ Zoe said, when I came up for breath, but I could tell she was distracted. ‘Hold on a sec, lovely. Sorry.’ She disappeared, but I could still hear her distant voice. ‘Gina, could you finish Mrs Kirbyshire for me?’
‘Sorry, Rach.’ She was back. ‘Listen, have you contacted the police?’
‘No. I don’t know what I’d say.’ But the truth was, I wanted to see this man myself, without involving the police. ‘They wouldn’t understand.’
‘Do you think you should go alone? He could be anybody.’
‘I must go, Zoe,’ I said with more confidence than I felt. ‘I need to know what’s going on, and if he knew I’d involved the police it could frighten him off.’
‘Not like that, Gina!’ she yelled. ‘I’m so sorry, Rach, I’m going to have to love you and leave you – you just can’t get the staff.’ She laughed. ‘But promise you’ll call tonight. And if you go, please be careful.’ And with that she hung up.
I drove home, and by the time I’d pulled up outside my house, time was ticking away. I looked at Angela’s front door – white plastic PVC, that didn’t quite suit the Victorian terrace. Lawrence once said it was like Jane Austen wearing trainers. Would it be wrong of me to ask Angela to pick Grace up, and look after her for an hour? After all, I’d never seen her drunk, a bit tipsy on occasions, but never drunk, and never when she was looking after Grace.
I got out of the car, walked up her path, and rang her doorbell.
She took a while to answer, and when she did, she peered round the door. She was still in her silk robe and pyjamas, her hair ruffled. ‘Rachel,’ she said.
‘Hey, how are you?’
‘Not too bad.’ She opened the door wider, and gestured for me to enter. I stepped onto the doormat.
‘I saw what happened last night,’ I said. ‘The man.’
‘It was something and nothing.’ She flapped her hand dismissively. ‘Coffee?’
I shook my head, and stayed on the doormat, so I didn’t have to remove my boots. Her front door opened straight onto her lounge – a sea of cream, with snatches of jade, mainly in flower form. ‘Better not, my first appointment is in fifteen minutes.’
‘Grace back at nursery, then?’ she asked, tightening the belt of her robe.
I nodded, hit by a feeling of guilt that I’d let Lawrence influence me. I’d judged her on what he’d told me. It was wrong of me. ‘She had yesterday off …’
‘Yes, I saw you in the garden. You looked as though you were having fun.’ She smiled.
I was beginning to overheat in my coat. ‘I didn’t have any patients yesterday, so it was nice to spend some time with her,’ I lied. I paused for a moment before adding, ‘Listen, could I ask a favour?’
Her eyes brightened, as though I was about to offer her the world. ‘Of course, anything – you know that.’
‘Would you be able to pick Grace up from nursery, and look after her for an hour?’
‘Love to,’ she said, with a smile. ‘No problem at all.’
I lowered my head, thinking about the man who’d called out to me the night before.
‘Are you OK?’ Angela placed her hand on my arm.
‘Not really,’ I said. ‘The thing is …’ I paused for a moment, and then told her everything I’d told Zoe.
‘Oh God, Rachel. That’s extremely worrying.’
I looked into her concerned eyes, feeling the comfort of her hand stroking my arm.
‘He wants me to meet him.’
‘You’re not going, surely.’ She removed her hand, and covered her mouth. ‘He could be a serial killer or something.’
I knew I should have felt pleased she cared so much, but instead I felt vaguely irritated.
I pulled my phone from my pocket and looked at the time. ‘I’d better go, my client won’t be long.’ I turned and opened the front door, glad to be hit by a blast of cold air – it was always too hot in Angela’s house. ‘Thanks so much for picking up Grace,’ I said, and headed for my morning appointments.
***
I waited by the Emirates Stadium entrance, stepping from foot to foot to keep warm, watching the minutes tick by on my phone, as I occupied myself liking photos on Instagram.
Whoever he was, he’d picked a busy area where people raced along going about their business, and I felt sure I would be safe here. I just wanted answers.
I scrutinised every bloke who passed by, wondering if it was the man who’d led me to the care home with the fake announcement that my mother was dead – the same man who’d called the studio.
I could suddenly hear his voice in my head; ‘I’m crying out. But they won’t listen. And now you must pay, Rachel.’
A woman with a stroller rammed my leg, making me jump. ‘Sorry,’ she said, as she dashed by.
Panic rose from nowhere. What was I doing? It might be crowded, but it would be so easy for him to attack me – thrust a knife into my heart, and run through the crowds.
But I couldn’t move, glued to the spot by the desire to know.
As the seconds became minutes, and the clock turned from twelve-fifteen to twelve-thirty, nobody came. But the words, ‘And now you must pay,’ played on repeat in my head.
Chapter 20
February 2018
Needing answers, I collected Grace from Angela, who thankfully seemed sober and looked happier than when I’d seen her earlier. I took off on the open road, heading for Mum’s house in Suffolk. The house I grew up in.
I’d loved living on the edge of Dunwich as a child. There was something about the peaceful Suffolk countryside that equated to happiness. And although my mum had been a bit of a recluse much of the time, I felt blessed that I’d had the kind of childhood I could look back on and smile.
It was gone two o’clock when I pulled onto a grass verge outside Mum’s four-bed Edwardian detached house. With its sash windows and heavy front door, it looked, as it always had, somehow proud, set back from the winding country road ensconced by hedges and trees.
‘Are we there yet?’ Grace said, waking from a nap in the back of the car. I glanced in my rear-view mirror to see her pink-cheeked and fluffy-haired from sleep. She leaned forward and grabbed the carton of juice I’d given her earlier (along with her lunchbox) and took a long drink through the straw.
‘Yes, we’re here, sweetheart,’ I said, unclipping my seatbelt, and climbing from the car.
Once we were out, we walked hand in hand towards the tall wrought-iron gate, Grace clearly enjoying the crunch of snow under her boots. I scanned the garden through the high fence, childhood memories reaching out to me, and I was glad I hadn’t had to sell the place to pay for Mum’s home. The fact she’d spent little money over the years, and made so much from the sales of her paintings,
meant we’d been able to keep the house.
I’d had Mum’s keys since she was admitted, so unlocked and pushed open the gate. It let out a shriek in protest as it travelled over the snow. There were several sets of footprints leading to the door – the postman, perhaps? But then the post-box was on the gate – the gate always locked.
‘Is Gran here?’ Grace asked, looking up at me with curious eyes as we walked up the path.
‘No, sweetheart, she’s still in her special house, remember?’
‘What about Muffin?’
Mum had got the cat when I went off to university – said it would help fill the void after I left. I admit I was surprised, as I’d never been allowed pets as a child.
I shook my head, and sighed. I’d suggested taking Mum’s cat when she went into the home, despite being a bit wary of them, but Lawrence had insisted he was allergic, something he’d never mentioned before. Truth was he didn’t like animals that much. But Muffin had been lucky.
‘Gran’s friend Jessica is caring for him,’ I said to Grace.
Jessica was an almost friend of my mother’s – a friendly neighbour – who now had fluffy white hair and walked with a stick. She’d lived in the house opposite Mum’s since I was a child, where she would look after me when Mum took off every November for a few days. In the early years I would ask Mum where she was going, only to be met with tears. In the end, I gave up asking for fear of upsetting her. It was yet another question I needed to ask her, before it was too late.
I glanced over my shoulder at Jessica’s bungalow at the end of a sloping driveway. ‘If your mum comes home, I promise to give Muffin back,’ she’d said about the cat, when I’d asked if she would care for him. She’d hurried away with the furry bundle as though she’d been waiting for the opportunity. Perhaps it was Jessica who’d made the footprints. She held a key, and kept an eye on the place.
Inside, the house smelt musty, and I rubbed my hands together to ward off the cold. Once in the kitchen, I turned the dial on the central heating, knowing there was power. I hadn’t cancelled the utilities, hopeful for a miracle and that Mum would return home one day.
Tell the Truth Page 10