by Louise Stone
‘Well, actually, it was Keira who spotted it. She came round and told me.’
‘Keira?’
I realised she must have headed straight home after speaking with me and more time had passed than I had imagined.
‘Yes, Keira. She came over and asked me to come and have a look.’
My palms grew sweaty and I sat in a spare seat. ‘What did it say?’
I could hear a ringing in my ears as Stephen spoke.
‘Why don’t you just come home and see for yourself? But anyway I wanted to warn you in case you passed by the cars first.’ He sighed. ‘I don’t know why the youth of today think it’s funny to spray-paint everything. It’s hardly a Banksy.’
I exhaled a shuddery breath. ‘I’m coming home now.’
As soon as I stepped off the bus, I made my way to the car parking spaces, in the opposite direction from the house. I needed to see this for myself, and after the day I’d had I wasn’t quite ready to go home yet.
I walked down the street towards the cars and even from quite a distance I could see pink and purple spray paint covering Stephen’s Maserati and my Ford Focus.
As I neared, I saw a police officer noting down the details and nodded a hello as I approached.
‘Sorry about this, Mrs Hall. Seems like some youths got a bit trigger happy with a can.’
I pushed down the bile rising in my throat. In large letters, spanning the width of both cars, read the message:
BETRAYAL
‘Don’t worry, it’s just someone’s idea of a sick joke,’ said the officer, tapping his notepad.
I nodded, unable to speak, tears glistening in my eyes. ‘Yes,’ I said quietly, ‘exactly. The whole thing is a just a very sick joke.’
11
Dusk was falling fast and, with a sickening sense of dread, I realised that Zoe was slipping further and further from our grasp. Our baby girl had been missing for nearly four days now. Four days. It had felt like an eternity.
I made my way round to the back of the house, using the alleyway, and said a silent prayer that Zoe would be sitting at the kitchen table, safe and sound. There were no reporters to be seen. Clearly, our news was already getting old, which to my mind was ironic, because if they knew the truth of it, the truth about me, then I was pretty sure it would hit the headlines again.
The back door was open and I could hear Stephen on the phone. I made my way inside, slipped off my coat and headed up the stairs, glancing quickly into the kitchen – no Zoe – my hand gripping the bannister.
‘Freya?’
Stephen stood at the bottom of the staircase and I had no choice but to turn around.
‘Hi.’ I moved slowly, facing him now.
‘You okay?’ His face creased with a frown. ‘You look exhausted. Where have you been?’ His eyes drifted across my body and I felt exposed, as if he could see Robert’s handprints on my skin. ‘What happened? You’ve been gone all day. Is there something you’re not telling me?’
‘No, nothing,’ I said hurriedly. ‘I need a shower.’
He didn’t say anything but watched me, his eyes boring holes into my back, as I headed slowly down the corridor.
‘Well, when you’ve changed, come down stairs and I’ll make you some supper.’
‘Supper? Supper?’ I said, suddenly hysterical. Adrenaline abruptly coursing through my tired, battered body, waking me up once more. ‘How can you even think about…’ I couldn’t finish the sentence; fatigue wracked my body.
My own overwhelming tiredness turned my thoughts once again to Zoe: where was she? What was she feeling? Was she cold and alone somewhere? Or…
My next thought jolted me, throwing life into sharp relief once more. What if she was dead? What if she was lying somewhere, lifeless? It had been running through my mind over and over again since she had gone missing. I had tried to prepare myself; how would I react if someone said Zoe had been found dead? Dead.
‘Freya.’ Stephen shook his head. ‘Don’t look at me like that. You need to keep your strength up.’
His coolness bothered me. I knew Stephen’s moods like the back of my hand. For a man who enjoyed playing poker with his friends, and work trips to Vegas, he was pretty damn easy to read. Overall, I had found it was easier to deal with hot-headed Stephen, but this one, the one in front of me now, was the one who would pretend to be in control and then, without warning, a switch would be flicked and he would start throwing things, and hitting all the right buttons to make me feel entirely worthless. It reminded me of my parents, but he was careful to hide his temper from Zoe. It occurred to me that seeing the nasty side of her father’s mood swings could just as easily have been the cause of Zoe’s change in demeanour as my apparent failures as a mother.
I eventually nodded and moved away. Once in the privacy of our bedroom, I looked in the mirror and released a small sob at the sight of myself. I started to get undressed. Stephen made me feel worthless. As soon as I entered the house, my home, I was filled with a darkness that snuffed out any hope or lightness I might otherwise have had. It had always been like this but in the last few years it had got worse, and now, since Zoe’s disappearance, I realised she was the only light left in my home life. I missed her. I wanted to hold her, make it up to her, tell her how sorry I was and that I would never let her out of my sight again. I touched my cheek. It felt crepe-like and dry. I couldn’t look myself in the eye as self-loathing flooded every inch of my body. I wasn’t fit to be a mother, I wasn’t fit to be a wife, I wasn’t anything except a lover. A cougar, if American TV shows were to be believed. I was sure Robert would one day turn his back on me, realise he could have so much more elsewhere.
Stephen knew that I was being eaten up by Zoe’s disappearance, yet he had no qualms about standing at the bottom of the stairs just now and letting me suffer alone. In fact, his cool presence was like a cloud moving across an already shady patch of lawn: he filled me with an ice-cold fear and hate. It made me want to kill him. It made me want to kill everyone. I was nothing, nothing to anybody. My gaze fell on a small jewellery box on the dressing table. Stephen had given it to me years ago, on his return from a company trip. He had said the azure blue stone reminded him of my eyes. Now, he looked in those very same eyes as if I were dead, non-existent.
My hand went unthinkingly to the jewellery box and I smashed it against the mirror with all my remaining strength. The glass shattered, causing my reflection to splinter out in millions of tiny fragments.
I could hear Stephen’s feet pounding the stairs. ‘Freya, what the hell is going on up here?’
He walked in and I turned to face him, my hand still clasping the jewellery box, trembling. Stephen’s eyes drank in the scene as he tried to comprehend why his wife would do such a thing. I could see his thoughts as if they were written across his face: shock, fleeting concern and then anger. Always back to the anger.
‘Bloody hell, Freya, why did you go and do that? Do you know what it will cost to replace that?’
I clenched my jaw. ‘I don’t care.’ My voice came out flat, emotionless.
‘What will Zoe think when she comes back to this,’ he gestured, ‘this madness.’
I nodded and walked to the wardrobe, slipping a T-shirt over my body.
‘Clean it up and then come downstairs.’ He left me, tears coursing down my face.
I walked to the bathroom, ran the cold tap and splashed my cheeks with the ice-cold water; I had to get myself together. The old Freya would not have shown such a lack of control. I needed to be the old Freya again, that was the only way I could cope. I couldn’t afford my secrets to come out. I was, I nodded at myself with conviction, after all, totally innocent in all this. I was having an affair with a younger man because my own husband made me feel like a hollow shell. I wouldn’t be the first, and I wouldn’t be the last. Where I was on Friday night had nothing to do with Zoe’s disappearance and it would hurt too many people in the long run to now come out with the truth. No, I decided, looking hard a
t my haggard face, I needed to get my act together for everyone’s sake. If I didn’t and Zoe came home, Stephen would have all the ammunition he needed to destroy my relationship with my daughter for ever. Robert’s note could stay in my pocket for now.
I walked to the spare room, found the vacuum and started to clean away any evidence of my weak moment. I knocked out the remaining pieces of glass from the frame and cleaned these away, too. Once I had put the vacuum away, I returned to the bedroom and regarded the empty frame. The hole where the mirror used to be would remind me to keep it together, that I needed to uphold the tangle of lies I had created.
Taking a deep, cleansing breath I headed down the stairs to face Stephen.
12
I entered the dining room and I could tell there was something wrong straight away. Stephen had lost his superior air and he now stood in front of me trembling.
He was holding an envelope. My heart skipped a beat as I thought that perhaps he, too, had received a note about my affair with Robert.
The house was unnervingly quiet. No sign of any police.
‘This just came through the door.’ He shook his head in disbelief, handing me the envelope with a shaking hand.
‘What are you talking about?’ My pulse started to race and I walked stiffly towards him. ‘What is it?’
I could tell from his body language that it was serious and I grabbed the envelope and ran to the front door, pulling it wide open, a gust of chilly October evening air rushing in at me. ‘Did you see who it was?’ I flicked my head around to him. ‘Did you see who put it through the letterbox?’
‘You haven’t even looked inside the envelope, Freya. Why are you acting like this?’ He narrowed his eyes.
I closed the door more slowly now and opened the envelope. There were three photos of Zoe wearing only her bra and knickers, dancing provocatively in front of various men. The light was poor and the images grainy, but there was no denying the identity of the half-naked girl.
‘There was no note but I think these guys might be university students. Doesn’t that look like a college bar? Do you know any of them? I can’t tell when they were taken. When did she last have a haircut? She also has that top on I bought her. You know, the one she wanted from Topshop. When was that?’ He looked at me, his face twisted with worry, his eyes searching mine for answers.
‘I didn’t know you bought her a top,’ I said flatly.
He stared at me as though I was missing the point.
‘Zoe never mentioned you had bought it for her,’ I continued, in a daze.
‘Is that really what’s important here, Frey?’
I shook my head. ‘No, I’m just sad that I didn’t know.’
I leant in and studied the photos more intently, almost too afraid to breathe. A surge of relief coursed through me as I realised I didn’t recognise anybody in the photos.
‘I just don’t understand what she’s doing in a college bar.’ I hesitated. ‘How would she have got in? And why isn’t she wearing any clothes?’ I started to tremble.
‘It was June time. Well, I mean I bought that top for her in June.’ Stephen was musing aloud. If the photos had been taken in June, or over the summer, then the only college bars open would have been the ones for the postgraduate students who tended to stay in Oxford all year around. My stomach dropped and I examined the faces of the other people in the photos again more closely. ‘It was around that time I thought she seemed a bit more detached. Like something was troubling her. Do you remember me mentioning it to you over the summer?’
I shook my head, pushed down the lump in my throat. ‘No,’ I admitted honestly. ‘I don’t. I just know you’ve mentioned it recently.’
To my surprise, Stephen then stood and put his arms around me, as my trembling grew more obvious.
‘I’m sure she’s safe. I’m sure she’s fine,’ he whispered into my hair. ‘This is not the Zoe we love and adore, this is not our Zoe. We’ll get our Zoe back. We’ll get this family back to what it was.’ He sniffed and I realised he was crying, too. ‘Maybe she was made to do it. You know, take her clothes off. She might have had something to drink. Or had her drink spiked.’
‘Or drugs.’ I paused. ‘That was around the time of the drugs stuff with Keira and the girls from her old school, wasn’t it?’
I felt his embrace stiffen but then he relented and nodded. ‘Yes, you’re right. Anyway, as I say, I expect she was made to do it.’
I almost laughed with hysteria at his naivety: in those photos, it was clear that Zoe had in no way been made to perform like that. She had wanted to do it. The way she looked at the camera scared me; she was totally in control, teasing the guys who were watching her, inviting them to look their fill. I felt there was even more to it than that. It was as if she was looking down the lens with one thing on her mind: to prove a point.
‘I don’t recognise anyone,’ I said, my words muffled by his shirt. ‘But you’re right, they do look university age.’
‘We’ll need to show DI Carter.’ He stood me at arm’s length and I avoided his eyes. ‘Freya, we need to get Zoe back home and try to understand why she’s doing some of this stuff.’ He furrowed his brows. ‘Maybe she wants money, maybe that’s it. Maybe we don’t give her enough of an allowance and she’s…’ He exhaled loudly. ‘I can’t even say the words.’
‘Selling her body?’ My voice was shrill. ‘Jesus, Stephen, you give that girl more than enough pocket money. I’ve always told you that you spoil her.’
He frowned. ‘Yeah, but she’s an attractive, popular young woman who no doubt wants to keep up with trends.’ He paused. ‘I should have recognised she needed more money.’
‘It doesn’t all come back to sodding money!’ I shouted.
Colour started to rise in his cheeks. ‘Freya, be careful.’
‘No, Stephen, tell me why you’re so hung up on money. Tell me why it matters more than love.’ I breathed hard and fast, my chest heaving with my torrent of words. ‘Every time Zoe has a problem, you buy her a present. When you’re feeling down, you buy something else for this bloody house. When you’re happy with the way I’ve behaved, like when I cooked for your managing partner and you felt it went well, you bought me a necklace.’ I glared at him. ‘I fucking hate that necklace.’
He stepped towards me and I could hear my heart thundering in my ears.
‘Maybe, Freya, it’s because I feel guilty. Guilty that you leave a gaping hole in this family where you simply exist but don’t actually give any of yourself.’
I gaped. ‘Maybe you won’t let me be myself! Maybe I made a mistake a long time ago getting those adoption forms but, at the time, I thought it was better for Zoe to live with a family who could open their heart to her.’
‘I could do that!’
‘No, you could open your wallet to her! There’s a difference!’ I jutted out my jaw. Static tension sparked between us. ‘One minute you’re showering us with gifts, and the next you’re telling me off for spending too much. You never let me see the household accounts.’ It had always made sense that Stephen, as a professional accountant, managed our money. But the claws were out tonight, and this fight had been brewing for far too long to draw back now. ‘Maybe it’s not just me who has a secret, after all.’ I picked up the photos and ripped them in half. ‘Maybe it’s not just me that’s been too blind to see that our daughter is rebelling against everything I’ve tried to drum into her.’ I turned and prodded my finger at the photos. ‘I’ve tried to teach her morals and look. Look! This is what comes of spoiling a child.’
As I said it, I realised I was a hypocrite. It was true, I had tried to instil morals in my daughter, but who was I to judge? I sat on one of the dining chairs and allowed my body to slump forward, my head resting on the wood.
Silence filled the room. Neither of us moved.
‘Shit, Stephen, where did it all go so horribly wrong?’
He pulled out a chair and sat opposite me now; I could feel him waiting for me to s
it up and catch his eye.
‘Freya, did you see the cars?’
I nodded and looked away again, afraid I might have to run from the room to be sick.
‘Yes, I did. A stupid joke, no doubt.’ I thought of the officer’s words, and glanced at him. He was staring at me intently.
‘Freya?’
‘Yes?’
‘Do you know what it means?’
My hand inadvertently pulled at the material around my neckline and I buried my chin inside my T-shirt, as if to hide myself from Stephen.
‘I don’t know,’ I said.
‘You don’t know?’
‘No, Stephen, I don’t know.’ I stood up. ‘Let’s leave it at that.’
He visibly clenched and unclenched his jaw. ‘Do I need to know something?’ He looked out into the garden and returned his gaze to me. ‘I found some new underwear in the drawers in the bedroom. I’ve never seen it before.’
‘What? It’s a crime now to buy new underwear?’ In all the upheaval I had forgotten to put it back in my work bag.
‘Of course not. Only, I feel you weren’t buying it for me.’
My mind raced with excuses and then, pushing down the mounting nausea, I walked over to Stephen and patted his hand, the touch of his skin against mine charged with anger. ‘Well, that’s where you’re wrong. I bought those bits and pieces just before Zoe went missing, but now…’
He nodded. ‘Okay. I hope you’re telling me the truth.’
I resisted the urge to run from the room. ‘I just want life to go back to normal.’
‘Me, too,’ he said. ‘We need to be a family again.’
I nodded. ‘Yes, I will do everything I can to make sure that happens. I’m just going into the garden for a bit. To clear my head.’
‘It’s freezing out there!’
‘I need some space.’ I walked to the hall, grabbed my coat off the hook and headed outside. I momentarily turned and watched Stephen look down at the ripped photos on the dining table and openly start to weep.
My heart twisted with guilt and the love I used to feel for my husband. At the end of the day, neither of us was perfect, but we did have one thing in common, and in a strange way it united us more than anything else could: we both wanted Zoe to come home safely. For a second, I entertained the idea that maybe we could make a go of it. Maybe Stephen was right: Zoe would come home and we could both put more effort into being a family.