Part of the Silence

by Debbie Howells

  * * *

  It was his first formal meeting with Evie Sherman. He wasn’t sure whether to call her Jen or Evie. He wondered if she’d recognize him from when their paths had crossed while walking.

  “Jack Bentley.” He held out a hand. Tentatively, she shook it. “I think we may sometimes walk in the same part of the woods. I live a couple of miles on the other side.”

  She frowned at him, unsure.

  “I’ve seen you at a distance. I walk with my black Labrador.”

  “I’m sorry.” She shook her head.

  Then, as her eyes met his, behind the fear and uncertainty, Jack saw something else. Physically she was fragile—there was no doubt about it—but inside, he sensed steel. Then, as he watched, it was as if the fog lifted momentarily from her imploded, uncertain world. Evie remembered something.

  “She has a pony.” She turned agitatedly to Abbie. “Can I borrow your iPad?”

  “Of course.” Abbie went out to the kitchen and came back with it. “Here.”

  He watched as Evie fumbled. Abbie caught his eye, but Evie managed to Google and somehow find what she was looking for without too much trouble.

  “You’ve clearly done this before,” Abbie said quietly.

  Evie ignored her. “This is it.” Her hands were shaking slightly and her voice was animated as she passed the iPad back to Abbie so that she could see the image of the soft gray-brown toy with mournful eyes and a fluffy mane. “It’s exactly like this. Except Angel’s pony, called Pony, has only one ear.”

  “I’ll make sure it gets passed on. Also . . .” Abbie hesitated. “Is there any chance you might have told Nick’s mother about Angel?”

  “No.” The word came out instinctively. It was an honest, gut feeling, Jack noticed. His own experience of Sheila Abraham told him she wasn’t someone whom anyone would confide in. Evie seemed sure. “We didn’t talk. She never liked me. After Nick and I split up, she wouldn’t have wanted anything to do with me.”

  “Do you know why?” Abbie was frowning.

  Evie was silent for a moment. “I wondered if she was one of those jealous, possessive mothers. You know . . .” She glanced at Abbie, then at Jack. “The kind for whom no woman is ever good enough for their beloved son.”

  It happened. Jack had come across a number of women who saw their son’s lover as a threat.

  As the light seemed to go out in her eyes, Evie’s hands started to shake. “How do people do this?” Tears were rolling down her cheeks as she turned to Abbie.

  Jack could see Abbie swallowing as she reached for Evie’s hand. “You hold on to hope. . . .” She looked at Jack, then back to Evie. “Really tight . . . because sometimes, it’s all you have.”

  Jack could feel the strength in her words. As she spoke, he saw the expression on Evie’s face change.

  “We’re doing all we can.” He spoke quietly, but with as much conviction as he could muster. “I know, right now it’s really hard.” He paused. “You have all these memories coming back, and a lot of them don’t make sense, but you mustn’t let this incapacitate you. If you do, you won’t be able to help Angel.”

  He watched Evie blinking at him. But Jack was right; he knew he was. She had to rise above this, the desperation, the agonizing worry, which didn’t go away, which wanted to cripple her, and somehow find the same strength he’d somehow found when Josh was in the car crash. The human spirit had an instinct for survival, even when it seemed impossible, when the world was crumbling around you. And only when she summoned that strength could she think clearly. Start to make sense of what was already coming back to her, to examine every detail she remembered of the minutiae of her life, before it was too late.

  Evie got up and walked over to the window, where she seemed to be engaged in a battle with herself. Then she turned round to face us.

  “Oh God . . .” She looked agitated again. “I don’t know if this will make sense, but I need to talk about Nick again.” She looked at Abbie. “This isn’t like before, when I talked to Charlotte.” She spoke fiercely, her body tight, as she stood there. “I can’t explain how, but I know it’s different. I need to tell you, Abbie . . . both of you”—she glanced at Jack—“everything I’m remembering right now, before I lose it again.”

  They needed to let her talk. Jack could see how urgent this was for her, how frightened she was of losing it all again.

  Glancing at Jack, Abbie nodded, then got up, reached into her bag for a notebook, then got her phone. “Do you mind if I record this, like last time?”

  Relieved, Evie nodded.

  “Right. And like before, if you want to stop at any time, just say.”

  Evie waited for her to set the phone to record. “Where do I start?”

  “You and Nick,” Abbie said. “How you met, where you lived, why you parted. Other people in your lives—like family or ex-lovers, anyone who might have been jealous of you. People who wanted to break you up.”

  31

  “It was Nick’s idea to move,” Evie started. “We were living in Croydon at the time, which was an easy commute for him. He worked in the city. But after we got engaged, his grandfather died and left him some money. Moving to the country was something we’d talked about on and off—for the future. Not for now, when we had jobs and friends where we were.”

  She thought for a moment. “Suddenly, Nick was in a hurry. He kept saying how he didn’t want to be one of those people who talked about what they wanted but never did anything. He couldn’t see the point in putting it off. I was less sure than he was. But he was insistent. Once he’d made his mind up, Nick was like that.” That jibed with the Nick the police had interviewed. His portrayal of Evie’s reticence had been nothing short of scathing. “We started to look at houses. None of them were right. I thought maybe he’d give up on the idea. Then I discovered I was pregnant.”

  Evie shook her head sadly. “He was elated, emotional. And impatient. I wanted to wait until after the baby was born. But he wouldn’t listen.” She stared at Abbie. “It’s like a large, brilliant picture playing in my mind. I can remember expressions, emotions, too. Nick’s face, his enthusiasm. Even my reticence. They’re all part of it.” Then she frowned. “You don’t think I’m making it up, do you?”

  “It’s fine, Evie.” Abbie tried to reassure her. “You’re doing really well.” She glanced at Jack. “Keep talking.”

  “We saw this farmhouse. Nick fell in love with it.” Evie’s voice was flat. “I could see why. It was everything he’d wanted. It was huge—with room for a family to grow, for us to have friends over. I was less sure, because it was so much farther from everything I knew. But he kept on about how villages were friendly, how I’d get to know everyone and we’d probably end up living there forever.”

  She paused. “The thing is, if we’d stayed together, it might have been like that. He’s persuasive. People are drawn to him. And he’s hugely sociable. We would have had parties and got to know everyone.... But I suppose, even before we moved, I wasn’t sure.”

  Jack watched her. She believed every word she was saying. Had he missed something about Nick? Was there a charming side to him? Somehow he doubted it. From what he’d seen, it was more likely Nick had manipulated her into believing that.

  “I didn’t understand why Nick was so sure about moving. I was happy with city life. And just because you live in a small village doesn’t mean you’re surrounded by instant friendships.”

  “Were you happy there?” Abbie asked quietly.

  “I wanted to be.” It came out too brightly, and then her eyes were suddenly full of tears again. “I tried to want what he wanted, but I couldn’t.”

  “What happened after you moved there?”

  “I lost the baby.” Pain washed across Evie’s face. “I miscarried at six months. Just one of those things. It happens to more people than you’d think.”

  She must have gone through labor knowing her baby was dead. Jack tried to imagine how that would be. “Was that when you lef
t?”

  She shook her head. “We’d been there nearly two years.” Evie paused, as if trying to work it out. “I remember, because we’d planned to celebrate with champagne in the local pub. It had been Nick’s idea to mark the date. That evening he was late getting home. He used to catch the train from Haywards Heath. I tried to call him, but he didn’t answer. I even checked the trains to see if the one he usually got was delayed. Everything was running on time.” She swallowed. “It’s all coming back. I don’t think I’ve ever talked about it before.”

  It was easier not to, Jack was thinking. He didn’t talk, that was for sure. Just buried what was painful, rather than confront it head-on.

  “When he eventually got home, he said his train had been canceled. There was alcohol on his breath. All that time I wasn’t happy, it seemed Nick wasn’t, either. Soon after that, things started to fall apart. Two months later, I left him. I went to stay with a friend.”

  “And you were pregnant again.”

  “Yes,” she whispered.

  “What about Nick’s mother? After you split up, did you see her?”

  “No. There was no point. Anyway, she was poisonous. She hijacked our breakup with her lies, saying how I’d betrayed Nick, how I wasn’t good enough for him. How I’d let all of them down, including her. I couldn’t believe the force of her attack. But looking back on it, I don’t think she could cope with me leaving her perfect, handsome son. She said I was ungrateful. I remember her saying to me, who did I think I was . . . ?” Her voice faded.

  Jack was silent. People made each other so miserable sometimes. It reminded him of when he’d discovered Louise’s affair. It was before Josh had died, when he’d naively believed things were okay between them. Then, out of the blue, he’d discovered they weren’t. Happiness severed was how he remembered that time.

  Abbie frowned. “It must have been difficult for you.”

  “Yes.” Evie stared at her hands, at the finger that used to wear an engagement ring.

  “I mean, having to move away,” Abbie went on. “Especially after losing your baby, when you were pregnant with your second.”

  “I didn’t know I was pregnant when I left. I found out soon after,” she mumbled. “I was staying with a friend. Then I found out I was pregnant again. After that, I wanted my own place.” She stared ahead of her. “I got my old job back, but Nick came looking for me. He wanted us to try again. When I said I didn’t want to, he got nasty. He called my boss and told him I’d lost my last job because I was unstable. It wasn’t true. He did it out of spite, because I wouldn’t do what he wanted. He has a controlling streak. I knew that if he ever found out I was pregnant, I’d never be free of him.”

  “Nick wouldn’t give up?”

  “No.” She shook her head. “But for all the wrong reasons. It was about pride, possession. Obsession, even. Not because he loved me. He’s like his mother—”

  “We’ve talked to Sheila Abraham,” Jack interrupted, then watched alarm register on Evie’s face.

  “Why?” Suspicion clouded her eyes. Right now it was clear, Evie didn’t trust anyone.

  “I’m sorry, Evie. I know you didn’t want her involved. But we have to talk to family members. Apparently, when you and Nick split up, she was shocked—so she says. According to her, you got off to a bad start. She said she’d tried several times to make things up with you, but you refused to have anything to do with her.” Abbie spoke quietly.

  Jack watched as Evie started to shake, whether from anger or fear, he couldn’t tell.

  “She’s not the kind of person you can trust,” she noted, her jaw set.

  Jack glanced at Abbie. As far as he could tell, it was an accurate assessment of Sheila Abraham.

  “So what happened after you moved into your own place?” he asked.

  “I knew I couldn’t go back. I didn’t love Nick. I scraped by until Angel was born, and then I moved to Cornwall. That was when I changed my name. It was a chance for a fresh start. And I had Angel. I didn’t need anyone else. She was my reason to go on living.”

  After a moment, Abbie turned back to her notebook. “Do you know why you felt the need to hide?”

  Evie stared straight at her. “Is it really that strange? Plenty of people live quiet lives. And it was because of Nick. Every day I lived in fear that he’d find us.”

  Abbie looked perplexed again. “But if he’s her father, don’t you think he had a right to know he had a daughter?”

  Evie looked distressed. “Nick’s best friend is a top lawyer. If he’d found me, he’d have done everything in his power to take Angel away. I know he would. Between them, they’d concoct proof that I’m an unfit mother. You already know what I went through after Leah disappeared. I tried to kill myself, had a breakdown. I was on pills for years. What happened to her has haunted me ever since. If Nick knew all of this, he wouldn’t think twice about using it against me. I wouldn’t have a chance.”

  “And now he does know about Angel.” Abbie’s voice was gentle.

  “Yes.” She took a breath.

  Jesus, what a mess, Jack was thinking. But when you were desperate, you did things you wouldn’t ordinarily do. “You do realize that he can’t just take her from you?”

  Clearly still troubled, Evie nodded. “He said he wants a DNA test.”

  “It’s reasonable.” Jack looked at her.

  “Yes.” She nodded.

  “Moving to Cornwall was brave of you. You’re quite isolated out here.” It had struck him the first time he’d seen Jessamine Cottage.

  “I couldn’t think of what else to do. I thought I could give Angel the childhood I wanted for her, with beaches and clean air and open space. At first, the isolation worried me. But as the months passed, and as Angel got a little older, I realized I felt safer without people around me. No one knew I was here.”

  “Safe?” Abbie stopped her. “Do you remember feeling that you were in danger?”

  Evie leaned forward, burying her head in her hands. Then she looked up. “I suppose I must have. But I don’t know why.”

  Abbie looked at her. “Evie? This feeling of being unsafe, it’s impossible to prove, but do you think it could be related to your attack? It seems that the closer we get to it, the more fragmented your memories are. You know you were afraid, but you don’t know why.” Abbie paused, letting her take the words in.

  “I don’t know. . . .” Evie clasped her hands. “I can remember being frightened, but when I try to remember why, there’s nothing there.”

  “Charlotte said you’d had this conversation, and she was convinced you were hiding from Nick.”

  Suddenly, Evie looked up. “What if Nick knew? He could have pretended he didn’t know about Angel. What if he found me? What if he’s taken her?”

  32

  October 17 . . .

  If there was one thing Jack knew about, it was emotional pain. The heartbreak of his wife’s betrayal and subsequent departure, the grief he’d suffered after Josh’s death. Dark, desperate months when he’d wished he, too, had died, unable to believe he’d get through that terrible loss. Grief was a lonely place; it had space only for one. He hadn’t got over losing Josh. You never did—not with your own child. It had changed the world—had changed him, too. He wasn’t the same person he had been before.

  As for Evie, he hardly dared think how long and unbearable each day must be. Days during which she imagined Angel somewhere, with an unknown someone, knowing the little girl would be missing her mother, wouldn’t understand why she hadn’t come. Imagining the best outcome, which was that she was being cared for, before glimpsing the worst, waiting for the onslaught of pain, embracing its violence, holding on to the only thought that kept her sane: that every day they didn’t find a body, there was still hope.

  Sometimes, it was all you had—hope. He’d clung to it as he and Louise had rushed to the hospital. Even as they’d stood at Josh’s bedside, watching him when he was wired up to drips and machines, his eyes closed, his b
reathing mechanical. The realization had hit Jack like a thunderbolt: though his body was still functioning, Josh had gone.

  From what he knew about Nick, he wasn’t sure the man could have attacked Evie—not with the level of brutality that had left her fighting for her life. He believed in listening to his gut, and right now his gut was telling him Nick hadn’t done it. But from bitter experience, Jack knew that until there was proof, no one could be sure.

  Having seen her face, the distant look in her eyes, the dullness of her responses, Jack knew about the uncertainty that had Evie in its grip, an uncertainty that verged on insanity. He knew she was on pills that numbed everything; slowed the rate at which her brain worked; blunted her thoughts, her feelings, until they were running at half speed—all there, just less so. He remembered it all too well. The pills made it bearable, if you could call it that, kept her head just above the water, so that instead of drowning, she could float.

  What he also knew was that inertia killed you. When your child was in danger, if there was anything you could do, you had to do it. Evie had been stuck first in the hospital, then in the house, apart from the brief episode when she’d run off and worried Abbie half to death. He had a day off tomorrow. Instead of chopping yet more firewood and sitting at home, letting the emptiness of the house get to him, suddenly he knew what to do.

  * * *

  “Meet Beamer.” His dog was wagging his tail with characteristic enthusiasm. “Are you okay with dogs?”

  “I like them.” Evie reached a tentative hand out for Beamer to sniff. “I have a cat. He adopted us after we moved here.” She frowned. “I haven’t seen him for a while. Sometimes he’s gone for a couple of days, but not longer than that.”

  “Maybe he got shut in somewhere,” Jack suggested. Cats did their own thing. One had somehow got locked in his shed without him knowing.

  Evie was silent.

  “He’ll turn up. It’s a bit of a mess.” Jack was talking about his car. “I thought it made sense to drive up the road a bit and walk from there.” He’d thought that by driving some of the way, she could conserve what little energy she had, save it for walking.