‘There’s something I need to tell you,’ Dad says, pulling me from my thoughts. He sniffs, wipes his nose. The skin around his nostrils and the corners of his eyes are red and sore. ‘I should’ve told you earlier but I’m too much of a coward. I should’ve told you because I know you’ve been blaming yourself, and that’s not fair. It’s . . . it’s actually all my fault. Years ago, before you were born, I cheated on your mum with . . . her.’
‘I know.’
He glances sharply at me. ‘You do?’
‘Faith told me. I guess it’s why Amy is so unhinged now.’ I shrug my shoulders. I’m not sure I’m an expert on why anyone does anything.
‘It shouldn’t have happened,’ he says. ‘It was this stupid fling one weekend. I should’ve known better. I knew Amy had this weird obsession with me because she kept telling me that she loved me. Even then I knew it was wrong to use her, but I was a teenager and all I wanted was . . . well, you know.’
Teenage boys want sex. That’s what everyone says, anyway. They’re slaves to their hormones. So far I haven’t been able to relate to any of this.
His voice drops to barely above a whisper. ‘And then there was the baby.’
I turn to look at him. He sniffs again, holding back tears.
‘I handled it badly. I’ve been a coward many times in my life, Aiden. Every single day I wish I was more like you.’
All I can do is shake my head. Why anyone would want to be like me, I don’t understand.
‘Faith said that Mum pushed Amy down the stairs and made her lose the baby.’
Dad glances at me, an incredulous expression on his face. ‘What? Your mum doesn’t even know Amy was ever pregnant, at least not as far as I know. No, it was me. I was the arsehole. I asked Amy to have an abortion and she did.
‘This is all because of what I did back then. She’s punishing me. First with you, helping Hugh in the way that she did, and now with Emma and Gina. This is all my fault.’ He grimaces. ‘I can’t believe I never told anyone when you were missing. What if it’d helped the police figure out where you were? But I never suspected her of anything. She seemed fine at the time. She never came across as unstable at all. I . . . I’m so sorry Aiden.’
‘Everyone thought I was dead,’ I reply. My voice sounds matter-of-fact, and, to be honest, I’m detached from the words anyway. ‘It wouldn’t have made a difference. It just would’ve upset Mum.’
I gaze out of the window, watching the rain fall. In the backseat, Josie’s head rests against the glass. I hope she didn’t hear Dad’s conversation.
He sniffs a few more times and Josie stirs. From the rear-view mirror I see her slowly realise where she is. The backseat of a car with the son and ex-boyfriend of her friend. People who were hurt by the man she loved at a time that feels like a lifetime ago. In a way, because of the past, because I was gone for so long, the three of us are strangers.
The world is a stranger to me. Its bizarre customs, social conventions, behaviours I don’t understand, people who wrinkle their noses when I ask questions, or who stare and then look away when they recognise my face. People like Faith, who do destructive things for attention, who bombard me with messages, and cling to the most bizarre moments. I’m not sure I’ll ever understand it, but at least I get to breathe in fresh air and see the sun.
And then, if I can save my family, perhaps I can stop Hugh from laughing for good.
We arrive at our B&B mid-afternoon. I’ve been awake for hours and I’m hungry and tired. We head up to our rooms to dump our bags.
The rain is torrential, worse than I’ve ever seen it. When I close the door to my room, the sound blocks everything out. It hammers against the windows like pounding fists.
I remember how the rain sounded in the bunker. The muddy water constantly leaking through. Is rain running in through the chapel roof? Is it dripping onto Mum? I used to believe that the roof of the bunker would cave in and I would be washed away by the water. I would sit there and wait for it to happen, scared at first and then disappointed.
We reconvene ten minutes later, and Josie takes us to the shop that’s in the photograph. The first thing we notice is that the cereal aisle matches perfectly with the picture. She grabs some snacks while Dad and I talk to the servers.
One, a woman in her fifties with blue eyes that won’t stay still, nods thoughtfully. ‘We’ve had police asking about her, too. I didn’t know she was the one wanted for the kidnapping. It’s not usually women, is it?’
‘Do you know her?’ Dad asks.
She shakes her head. ‘I’ve seen her once or twice. She’s not someone I’d recognise unless someone points her out to me.’
‘But she’s definitely been in here?
She nods. ‘I noticed her buying a lot of water and I remember thinking it was selfish, what with the heatwave going on. It seemed like she was stocking up. Taking it all so others can’t get it. People do it with toilet paper when it snows.’
We ask everyone in the shop but no one else recognises her.
We get back into the car and eat cold Cornish pasties and salt and vinegar crisps.
‘I think we’ll beat the police,’ Dad says. ‘Seems like they’ve been asking around the village, but I haven’t heard anything else. We know that DCI Stevenson is arranging for the woods to be searched but that’s about it.’
While Dad and I examine the paths on Google maps, Josie checks the weather on her phone.
‘This is forecast for the rest of the day and all through the night,’ Josie says, almost shouting to be heard. ‘There’s a flood warning.’
Because of the new weather conditions, we decide to stop at a hiking store and buy proper wellies, waterproof coats and hiking canes to help us over the terrain. The shop is in the main part of the village, run by one guy, about thirty, with a long straggly beard. We ask him about the church in the woods while we’re there.
‘Oh, yeah. I have heard of that. But it’s not a church, it’s a private chapel that used to belong to some rich person’s estate. The estate isn’t there anymore, but the chapel was bought by a builder a few years ago. As far as I know, he’s turning it into a cabin in the woods, kinda thing. For people to rent if they have too much money and don’t like camping.’ He laughs. ‘But if you’re thinking of going to take photos or whatever, you should know that you’ll be trespassing. It’s not part of the main woods, it’s private land. And I think it’s quite far from the main path. Wouldn’t want you guys to get lost out there in this weather. We’ve had some problems with flash flooding over the past few years.’
‘Thanks,’ Dad says, ‘but that won’t be a problem.’ The guy behind the counter lifts an eyebrow.
He then glances at my face with a frown and I see the flicker of recognition in his eyes. He looks away again.
‘Any chance the person who owned that estate is Faith’s family?’ Dad asks as we make our way back to the car.
‘It’s too much of a coincidence for it not to be,’ I reply.
Chapter Forty-Seven
AMY
It begins with a change in the air. My top is no longer warm enough and goosepimples break out along my forearms. I see the little hairs standing on end.
At least that’s what I think it is. It could also be my body reacting to the onslaught of a sedative and concussion at the same time.
The cold makes my fingers shake as I tighten the last stich and snip it close to the scalp. There. All done. All better. Now that it’s done, I wrap my arms around my body and rub my upper arms until they warm. There’s a gloom of dark clouds surrounding the church. Since Emma has my phone, I don’t know the exact time. I can’t even check the nanny cam because I need a phone to do it. I stand and move closer to one of the windows, peering out between the slats. All I see is the torrential thrashing down of rain.
Late September is finally catching up to us. Well, it doesn’t matter, it’ll be over soon. This was never an endeavour that would continue on into winter. I scoop up the box
of pills and watch the water running in through the roof as I grind them up to put into the glass of cold apple juice. Time to drink the Kool-Aid.
Emma and I have one thing in common. We’re underestimated at every turn. No one expected Emma to fight back the way she did. No one thought a pregnant woman could do what she did. And no one thought that I would fight back, either. Not Emma, that’s for sure.
I brush my hair out of my face and begin to carry the apple juice down to the cage, debating whether to tell Emma about everything or not. Shall I tell her about Faith? Shall I tell her that her precious daughter is probably being spoiled rotten by a deluded little princess of an adult woman? Should I tell her that Faith has been contacting her son? And that sometimes I tell Faith what to say to him? Would it be satisfying to see the expression on her face for the final time?
No, not yet. There’s been no contact from Faith for the last few days and I don’t want to reveal too much too early. Perhaps it would be better for Emma to die without ever knowing where her daughter went.
I watch her sleep, all curled up on the mattress. Moving my unconscious body around really took it out of her. I glance at my smartphone clenched tightly between her fingers. I decide not to wake her, I simply place the glass on the floor inside the cage, and then sit down a few feet away from the bars so that I can watch.
It doesn’t take long for her to wake. Raindrops begin to trickle into the cage, some hitting her on the mattress. The sight of it makes me frown. How bad is the rain? Not only is it coming in through the roof of the chapel, it’s filtering down to the cellar.
Emma sits upright and stares at the phone in her hand. Then she looks at me.
‘I brought you apple juice,’ I say, nodding to the glass in the cage.
Emma regards it for a moment, but rather than take the glass, she starts fiddling with the phone again.
I let out a long sigh. ‘I don’t know how many times I’ve told you, there’s no signal down here.’
‘Shut up,’ she snaps.
I watch in amusement as she cancels the call, moves around the cage and tries again. But it’s when she dares to move closer to the front of the cage that I get to my feet. When the phone begins to ring, we both stare at each other at the same time.
As I try to reach for her, she bends down, misses my outstretched hand, grasps the apple juice and throws it in my face. I gasp in a breath, spitting out as much of the apple juice as I can.
‘Hello? Hello?’
I wipe the juice from my eyes and try again to snatch the phone from her hands.
‘If you can hear me, my name is Emma Price and I’m trapped –’
She doesn’t get to finish the sentence; I reach through and swat the phone out of her hands. It lands with a crack on the stony floor. The same noise my head made when she knocked me out.
‘They might be able to trace the call,’ she says. ‘There’s hope. I can get out of here, and you’re going to be arrested.’
I glance down at the apple juice on the ground. If she won’t take her medicine, I’ll just have to find another way to finish this.
Chapter Forty-Eight
AIDEN
At the car, we cut shopping tags from our new equipment and pull on waterproof boots and coats. The material crinkles and crackles as I zip everything up and smooth down the seams. We worked fast inside the shop, not bothering to try things on. The coat is too large for me, Dad’s is slightly too small, but he can just about pull the zip up tight.
‘Is everyone ready?’ he asks.
I take a deep breath and nod. I don’t know why, but since the man in the shop told us about the chapel, my lunch has been churning in my stomach. This is real now. And the weather being so awful adds another layer of urgency on top of everything. We’ve driven down here to find Mum and now we’re going to discover if it’s even possible to save her. Now we find out whether she’s still alive after all.
Dad drives us to the edge of the woods and parks in an empty car park. No one wants to come out hiking in this weather. It’s 4.30 p.m. and I feel like we’ve already wasted time. The sun will set around seven, giving us just three hours to find her.
No one speaks as we climb out of the car. What we need to do will not be easy. For all we know we’ll need to fight to get her back. My skin is cold all over and I want to fade away from myself into the silence where it’s safe. But no, we have a task to do.
Dad limps around the car and bangs his walking stick against the tarmac. ‘You two need to go on without me. I’m going to take a slower path while you both go on ahead.’
He hangs back while we move into the trees, obscured to me by the hood of my coat. Rain drips down my nose, over my lips. I have tunnel vision from the hood and can’t even hear Josie walking beside me because of the noise. Rain on leaves, stones, soil. The wind. All of it muffled by my coat. A panicked thought flits through my mind: what if Mum’s shouting for help and I can’t hear her? I remember the hours I spent screaming until my throat went sore. Hugh hit me when he realised what I was doing, but he brought me throat lozenges in the end.
I open my mouth again, and scream. ‘MUM!’
Josie’s head turns to face me, her body contorting from the surprise of my scream. Then she relaxes and joins me. ‘EMMA!’
We follow the path, intermittently shouting through the rain. It drums down, bouncing off my sleeves, dribbling into my jeans. Every now and then I have to ball my hands into fists and then relax them in order to get the feeling back. I yell as loud as I can. Josie cups her hands around her mouth and bellows. But there is only the sound of the wet weather in return.
‘Do you remember how long you walked?’ I ask.
Josie shakes her head.
I don’t say it but I wonder how often Hugh did things like that. I wonder if he took Josie for walks in Rough Valley forest, taking her as close as he dared to my bunker, just for the thrill of it. My stomach lurches. I stop and pull in a deep breath.
‘Are you OK?’ she asks.
I nod my head and we continue. I keep shouting. The rain drums down. We carry on walking for about an hour before Josie stops.
She points at a gap in the trees, where the ground slops down into a ravine.
‘I remember almost falling down that slope.’
We head away from the path, towards the ravine. My feet slide down the slope, boots sinking deep into the mud. There’s so much rain that the water gushes around us, turning the slope into a waterfall. I’m freezing cold inside my coat.
The deeper we go into the woods, the more I feel like I’m fading into myself, retreating into that dark place. I can’t help it. This is too much like the rainy night I escaped from the bunker, I didn’t feel the cold that night. Hugh’s laughing voice has turned into a vision of him. I see him as large as he was when I was small, when he’d stand over me. I see him smiling, see him screaming, see him crying. See all of the parts of him that the woman walking next to me probably never saw. She never saw the light fade from his eyes or the blood escaping from the wound I inflicted.
Josie stops and I stop next to her. We both wobble, our balance altered by the sheer amount of mud. Her head turns from left to right. ‘I don’t know where we are.’
We take a few more tentative steps before taking out the map we brought with us. We already know that the chapel isn’t marked, but we know the direction of the road, so we can figure out how to continue.
Josie’s indecision slows us down as we carry on through the woods, and all the time the rain lashes down. When we stop to corroborate the map with what it says on Google, we notice a news alert about heavy flooding in the area.
‘Mum might be underground,’ I say, staring at the news. I don’t know much about flooding, but I know I wouldn’t want to be underground while it’s happening. What if the old church isn’t structurally sound? What if the building collapses on top of her?
A few minutes later, as we’re negotiating our way through a patch of brambles, there’s a rus
tling behind us. I spin around, on edge, to see Dad limping along.
‘I tried to hurry,’ he says, out of breath. ‘The rain’s getting worse.’ He picks his way through the thorns, leaning heavily on his stick. I’m not sure if the tight line of his mouth is fear or pain, or possibly both.
‘I don’t even know if we’re going the right way,’ Josie says. ‘It’s hopeless. I can’t remember anything.’
‘We’ll just keep going away from the road,’ Dad says. ‘That’s all we can do.’
Chapter Forty-Nine
EMMA
She’s been gone for what I think must be about thirty minutes. What is she doing up there? Has she run away and left me here alone?
Since she’s been gone, the rain has started to pour down the walls in the vault. I look at the smashed phone on the ground, wishing I could try the emergency services again. It all happened so fast that I don’t even know if the call connected. All I could do was shout down the line and hope someone on the other end could hear me. Do the operators on the emergency service lines track calls via GPS now?
I hear footsteps coming down the steps and rush to the back of the cage. Some of the battery powered lights flicker as water seeps into them. The upstairs of the chapel must be slowly flooding for this much water to be leaking down to the cellar.
Amy’s skin is waxy and pale. Even though I can see that she’s tended to her head injury as best she can, fresh blood dribbles from it, like sleepy morning drool. There’s an edge to her expression. Determination has hardened her features. I rush to the mattress where I’ve hidden the shard of porcelain from Lily the doll.
Water splashes around her boots as she comes to the door of the cage and uses her key to get in. I’m in a state of shock. It’s the first time I’ve seen the cage door open since I came here. Then my eyes drift to the long knife in her hand.
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