Behind Closed Doors

by Susan Lewis

  ‘No, but . . .’

  ‘Don’t worry, I’ll tell him when he gets here. We don’t want the press to know, you understand that, don’t you?’

  ‘Of course.’

  ‘Are you going to the mags’ court with Leo?’

  ‘Yeah, we’re just about to leave.’

  ‘OK, call me when you’re done.’

  Kasia was in Henryk’s Polish food shop in Kesterly’s old town, where she came every week to buy Tomasz’s favourite treats from their country. It didn’t matter that he’d be having them regularly at the moment, she still wanted to prepare something special for when he came home.

  He’d texted earlier to let her know that he was starting back in the morning and should be with them by midday on Monday at the latest.

  Please get in touch with the police and tell them I am coming, he’d said at the end of his message. But do not tell anyone else, not even Olenka or the children.

  So, in spite of bursting to share her relief, Kasia was managing to keep it to herself. She was so happy to know that he was going to help the police to sort out the terrible mistake everyone was making about him. And it was a mistake, she was in no doubt of that. Just because he worked at the camp and he knew Sophie didn’t mean that he was some kind of predator or pimp, who went round tricking girls into believing he was going to help them find a better life. He’d never do anything to hurt anyone, especially not a young girl, and soon everyone would know how wrong and cruel they had been to think him capable of all the dreadful things that were being suggested.

  If anyone had hurt Sophie, and Kasia was praying every day that no one had, then she felt sure it was Gary Perkins, who, they’d said on the news just now, had been remanded in custody. He was the one who had a past, a criminal record even, proving that he had done bad things with young girls before. In spite of what Olenka said, Kasia felt certain that there was no friendship or even association between Tomasz and Gary Perkins. She would know if there were. Tomasz would have mentioned it, if only in passing, but he never had.

  ‘You’re too trusting,’ Olenka had told her. ‘You have to face up to the fact that even the best men are capable of doing bad things for money.’ And let’s face it, Tomasz is doing very well for money. She hadn’t said those words, but Kasia had heard them anyway.

  She didn’t know why Olenka was so ready to believe badly of Tomasz, nor did she care. All that mattered to her was that Tomasz was on his way home to clear his name.

  After filling her basket with Henryk’s best pierogi with sauerkraut and mushrooms, a box of six paczki, delicious doughnuts the children adored, some challah bread and a few bottles of Tyskie beer, she went to the checkout.

  ‘I am sorry,’ Henryk said, his tired old eyes seeming sore today, ‘to hear these things about Tomasz. People, they come in here talking about him all the time. They think everything that is on the Internet or in their newspapers is the truth. I tell them, you know this man, you sing and dance with him at parties, you drink vodka with him and you let your children play with him, so how can you believe these things of him?’

  ‘Thank you, Henryk,’ she whispered, aware of the heads that had turned to stare. ‘I will tell Tomasz what you have said. It will mean a lot to him. It does to me too.’ Taking out her purse she offered him some money, and found it being pushed back into her hand.

  ‘I will pay for this,’ the man beside her said. ‘Please tell Tomasz when you speak to him that many of his Polish friends are with him.’

  ‘Yes, please tell him,’ a woman joined in. ‘My name is Joana, my husband is Franz. We know Tomasz is not what they are saying.’

  As Kasia looked at their gentle faces, she felt her eyes filling with tears of gratitude.

  Leaning towards her, Henryk said, ‘Tell him, from Henryk, that it is better for him to stay where he is. Here, there will be too many problems for him with the police and the lawyers. Problems it will be too difficult for him, as a foreigner, to overcome.’

  ‘Now they have labelled him this terrible kind of person,’ the woman Joana added, ‘the people here will always suspect him. That is how it works. Nie ma dymu bez ognia they will say, because that is what the British believe.’ No smoke without fire.

  ‘Niewinnego do czasu udowodnienia winy,’ her husband added. Innocent until proven guilty. ‘But it is not true. Dla nas jest Winny az udowodni swoja niewinnosc. This is the truth.’ For us it is guilty until proven innocent.

  As she left the shop Kasia could feel them watching her, their sympathy and counsel weighing more heavily in her heart than the smoked sausages and potatoes in her bag. Should she do as they said and tell Tomasz not to come?

  Chapter Eleven

  IT WAS PAST four thirty by the time Gavin, together with Heidi, who’d insisted on coming for the appeal, were led into the dance hall at Blue Ocean Park where the press was waiting.

  It had taken no time at all for Penny’s disappearance to make headlines; with their father being who he was the scrutiny had been fierce from the start. Andee would never forget the conference that had ended with two of his colleagues taking him in for questioning. She knew her mother would never forget it either – nor had her father ever really got over it. If Penny had been found maybe he would have put it behind him, eventually, but she hadn’t and so he’d always wondered if people, the press, continued to suspect him.

  In front of the stage two long tables had been set out with a clutch of microphones at the centre, and a large blue board with the Dean Valley Police logo providing a backdrop. An official camera was set up amongst the many others to record proceedings.

  Now that Gould had finished briefing the gathering on the investigation so far, he and two press officers were vacating their chairs ready for the Monroes to sit down. As requested by Gavin, Andee took up position one side of him, while Lauren sat the other side of Heidi.

  ‘Are you OK?’ Andee murmured to Gavin. He had the deer-in-the-headlights look that so often overcame people in this position.

  As her words reached him he blinked and said, ‘Yeah, I’m fine.’ At least he sounded more confident than she knew he felt. He was wearing a shirt and tie for the occasion, while Heidi had combed her hair and dug out a pale pink summer dress. Andee knew, because Heidi had told her, that it would mean something to Sophie if she saw they’d made an effort for her.

  Her parents had dressed for the cameras too, though she couldn’t remember now what her mother had worn, only that her father had wanted to appear casual with an open-neck shirt and pale grey pullover. No one had advised him against it; no one had seemed to know if it would make a difference.

  As the cameras focused on Gavin and Heidi, Andee could see Gavin’s hands starting to shake as he took out the statement they’d prepared. He cleared his throat and began to read aloud, but had to stop and start again. ‘Sophie,’ he said quietly, ‘if you’re watching this, we want you to know how desperate we are for you to come home. I realise things haven’t been easy lately, but we love you very much and we miss you . . .’ He swallowed hard and took a moment to recover. ‘You’re not in any trouble, I promise,’ he continued. ‘I just want to know that you’re safe.’ His head went down as he fumbled for Heidi’s hand and the cameras zoomed out to include her.

  ‘Sophie, if you’re watching this,’ Heidi said softly, ‘please get in touch.’ She took a breath. ‘If someone out there is holding her, I beg you, please bring her back to us. We need her home. Pl-please bring her home.’

  After returning the Monroes to their bungalow and sitting with them for a while going over everything that had been said, and helping to deal with the calls as they came in, Andee finally got into her car. Instead of driving back to the station, she pulled into a quiet spot at the edge of the Cove.

  For a long time she sat gazing out at the sea, watching gulls diving and soaring, lazy white horses dissolving and small children paddling. It seemed such a normal world, but she knew from experience that things were rarely as they seemed. Ther
e were too many meanings behind the simplicity of one glance to make it as harmless as its apparent innocence, too many thoughts left unspoken, truths still untold when a story was over. It was as though everyone was an actor, doing his or her best with the part they’d been given, but no one else would ever really know how happy, or sad, afraid, hopeful, ashamed or guilty they were feeling inside. It simply wasn’t possible to read someone’s mind or to feel their pain. There was only instinct and empathy and the intangible, but often powerful, links they provided.

  But even they could be misunderstood.

  She needed to think this through, to give herself time to understand the unease she was feeling so she could decide whether she had allowed her own history to impact on this case, as she now feared it had.

  There was no time this evening, though. She’d promised to meet Martin at six thirty and it was already six o’clock. Sending a quick text to let him know she wouldn’t be there until seven fifteen at the earliest, she turned the car around and started the drive home.

  By the time Andee pulled into the car park of the White Hart at seven thirty she’d managed to push the unease that had overwhelmed her earlier to the back of her mind. This evening was about her family, no one else, although her Airwave was with her in case anything broke as a result of the Monroes’ appeal.

  As she turned off the engine she took a deep breath and braced herself. Actually, she was looking forward to seeing Martin, she realised, though she’d probably rather be seeing Graeme. He’d called while she was getting ready to let her know he was going to Dorset to spend the rest of the weekend with friends. She’d felt bad about not saying much in response, but with Alayna right there she’d been forced to keep it low key.

  Maybe she should text to say how much she’d like to be with him.

  Maybe she should just get out of the car.

  As she walked into the pub Alayna’s excitement was ringing in her ears. ‘Oh my God, he is going to be so totally blown away when he sees you,’ she’d declared when she’d stood back to admire her skilful styling of Andee’s hair. ‘You look so much softer and gorgeous when you wear it down like this, kind of movie star-ish, and you really ought to wear make-up more often. It totally defines your eyes and makes you look loads younger. Plus, you are way, way more attractive than Brigitte.’

  Though Andee had to admit she was impressed by how expert Alayna was with brushes, liners, highlighters and glosses, she felt embarrassed now in case Martin thought she’d gone to so much trouble for him.

  Trying to pretend there were no jitters clowning away behind her adult composure she looked around the bar, and spotting him at a window table she felt a familiar clutch in her heart. The instant he saw her he rose to his feet, and she had the dubious satisfaction of seeing his eyes widen in approval.

  ‘Wow,’ he murmured as he greeted her.

  ‘Wow yourself,’ she responded, trying to make light of it.

  With his rugged, irregular features, messy blond hair and intense indigo eyes he was without a doubt a handsome man, at least to her mind, but so, in a different sort of way, was Graeme. And Graeme was a better dresser – however, despite Martin’s plain pale blue shirt, open at the collar, and his usual tatty jeans, she could tell from his aftershave that he’d made a small effort for the evening.

  What had Brigitte thought about that? Was she feeling worried, wherever she was now? Or was she totally secure in their relationship?

  ‘You really do look amazing,’ he told her.

  Annoyed that he hadn’t let the subject drop yet, she replied, ‘Alayna’s hard to escape when she’s at large with her make-up case. You’re looking well.’

  Arching an eyebrow, as though he was managing to understand more of what was going on in her mind than she was, he said, ‘What will you have to drink?’

  ‘A lime soda will be fine. I’ll have a glass of wine when we eat.’

  As he went to the bar she sat down at the table, and, since his back was turned, she allowed her eyes a quick head-to-toe assessment. He’d always had a good physique, broad shoulders, long legs and narrow hips. He had a natural charisma that drew people to him in a way she’d often found fascinating to watch.

  Was Brigitte fascinated by it too? Maybe she too had a similar charm.

  What would Martin think of Graeme?

  What did she care?

  Martin rejoined her. ‘There you go,’ he said, putting their drinks down and sinking back into his chair.

  She noticed he’d ordered himself a beer and wondered if he’d driven here or taken a taxi. Maybe Brigitte had dropped him off and was coming back later to collect him.

  ‘Cheers,’ she said, clinking her glass against his. ‘It’s a long time since we were here.’

  ‘I was trying to remember when it was,’ he admitted, ‘and I think it must have been the day after your dad’s sixty-fifth, when we came, the whole family, for a hangover lunch.’

  She smiled. ‘You could be right, which means it would be about seven years ago, though I think both our parents have brought the children a few times since.’

  He nodded as he sipped his beer.

  ‘How’s your mum?’ she asked. ‘I wish I’d been able to see more of her this week.’

  ‘Don’t worry. She’s the first to understand that a missing child takes precedence. She wouldn’t want it any other way, nor would Dad.’

  Knowing that to be true of his parents, she said, ‘So how are the funeral arrangements coming along? Will many be going?’

  ‘Let’s put it this way, we expanded out of standing-room-only a couple of days ago, so we’re trying to find out if we can install a sound system, and maybe a couple of screens, for those outside.’

  ‘It’s at South Kesterly crematorium, I take it?’

  He nodded.

  The same place her own father had been cremated, though his had been a much smaller affair.

  ‘How are you dealing with it?’ she asked, knowing it would affect her deeply if he said not well.

  He shrugged as his gaze drifted outside. ‘It fluctuates. To be honest, I’m finding it hard to get my head round the fact that he’s actually gone. I keep expecting him to walk in the door, or that it’s going to be him when the phone rings . . . “I’ve got tickets for the big match Saturday week, are you going to be around?”’ he mimicked. ‘“I need your expert opinion on something you know nothing about.”’ He laughed and Andee smiled. ‘“Are you ready to take over the business yet?” I can hear him in my head as though he’s actually right here.’ His eyes came to hers. ‘How do you think the kids are coping?’

  She put down her glass. ‘Reasonably well, on the surface, but I don’t think it’s really sunk in for them yet. Having said that, Luke is definitely moodier lately and I wouldn’t be surprised if somewhere down the line it hits him quite hard. Have you spoken to him today?’

  He shook his head.

  She sighed. ‘I’m afraid losing his grandpa might be bringing up everything he felt when he lost you.’

  Martin blinked. ‘But he hasn’t lost me. I’m still here.’

  ‘You know what I’m saying. You’re not a constant in his life any more, the way you used to be. He can’t turn to you at the end of the day when he needs moral or male support . . .’

  ‘He can always call. I’ve told him that a hundred times . . .’

  ‘It’s not the same, and you know it.’

  As his eyes went down she could tell by the set of his jaw that the guilt he felt over leaving wasn’t even close to abating. He spoke quietly. ‘My dad used to say to him, in front of me, “Not all men are like your father, my boy. We don’t all walk out on our families. Some of us honour our responsibilities and I want you to be one of our number.”’

  Surprised, and faintly shocked, Andee said, ‘Luke’s never told me that.’

  ‘No? I thought he might have.’

  ‘Your dad shouldn’t have tried to create a division between you.’

  ‘I’d already d
one it,’ he reminded her. ‘Although I didn’t realise it straight away. I guess he’s been bottling things up for a while . . .’

  ‘That surely can’t be a surprise.’

  He shook his head. ‘Not really, I guess I just haven’t allowed myself to see it.’

  She frowned. ‘You mean you’ve never stopped to consider how lonely he is without you? You used to do everything, go everywhere together, then suddenly you weren’t there any more.’

  ‘I never stopped seeing him,’ he protested. ‘Or Alayna. Even when I’m away I’m always at the end of a phone . . .’

  ‘You don’t have to tell me what I already know, you just have to accept that the day you decided you didn’t want to live with me any more you weren’t only hurting and rejecting me, you were doing the same to them. Think how you’d have reacted if your father had walked out on your mother. Luke and Alayna are naturally protective of me, especially Luke. He sees it as his role, now you’ve gone, to be strong for me, and it shouldn’t be that way. He should be focusing on his own life, thinking about his exams, uni, girlfriends, his sports, not having to worry about me, or whether you’re going to be in touch.’

  He was clearly taking everything in. ‘I get that,’ he told her, ‘and I promise you, I want to change it, I just don’t know how.’

  Being unused to seeing him at a loss, she found herself feeling almost sorry for him. ‘Then work it out,’ she said firmly. ‘He’s your son. He needs you to explain why you did, what you did, so that he can at least try to understand it and move on.’

  ‘And how is telling him I felt stifled, that I was losing myself, that I didn’t want to live the way I was any more supposed to make him feel better?’

  Wondering if he realised how hurtful his words were for her, she replied, ‘You need to find a way of explaining it that will make him feel better. I can’t tell you what to say, because I’m not the one who felt they had to get out of our relationship.’

  Swallowing dryly he picked up his beer and stared at it hard, apparently frozen in his thoughts, maybe his guilt, before putting the glass down again. With a hint of irony in his tone, he said, ‘To think I’ve been trying to get you to sit down and talk to me for over a year. If I’d known it was going to go like this . . .’