by Sibel Hodge
‘When I was in the children’s home, I wasn’t really that close to anyone. Other kids came and went. Whenever you finally did make a friend, they left to be adopted or fostered. And Liam always made a fuss if I wanted to do something with friends, so I suppose in the end it wasn’t worth the effort. I do keep in contact with my old school friend, Sara, but that’s mainly because Liam doesn’t know about it. He doesn’t like her, you see. He says she’s flighty. She likes to travel a lot. She’s a graphic designer, but she only works as long as she has to so she can save up some spending money. Then she’s off again, travelling somewhere else in the world and doesn’t come back for months on end.’
‘Does that make you feel isolated with no one to talk to?’
I fiddle with one of my hooped earrings, sliding it round and round through the pierced hole as I think about that. ‘Yes, I suppose.’
‘I think you’re a very resilient lady.’
I frown and glance over at him, not sure if he’s joking. ‘Really?’
‘Yes.’
And for the first time in a long time, I feel like someone is actually on my side. The knot in my stomach unclenches a fraction.
‘Do you still feel independent?’
‘I know what you’re going to say.’
‘And what’s that, my dear?’
‘That I’ve given up independence in my marriage. That Liam was some kind of father figure to me, and I was desperately looking for love when I met him, so I carried on ignoring the obvious until it was too late to change it.’
His eyes soften. ‘Is that what you think?’
‘Look, he can be moody and arrogant and controlling sometimes, but he’s never hit me, so it’s not like I’m an abused wife, is it?’ I shake my head for emphasis, and it hurts.
8
I open the overnight bag Liam has just brought in as he hovers by my bed. He’s changed from his work suit into a pair of new dark blue jeans and a black shirt. His clothes are crisp, clean, and perfectly ironed. Even in casual gear, he looks groomed and styled, as if he’s just stepped out of the pages of GQ magazine. He wears his blond hair short at the sides and longer on top, pushed back slightly so it looks like he’s been casually running his fingers through it, when in fact he stands in front of the mirror for ages styling it. He takes longer to get ready than me, actually. A fact he likes to point out when he says how messy my long wavy hair looks. Says I should take more care over my appearance. But even when I wear my hair up, it has a mind of its own, tendrils escaping from every direction. My hair is a messy mop. His words, not mine.
I feel Liam’s gaze on me and look up into icy blue eyes. He has an expression I can’t read. Concern? Exasperation? Disgust?
‘This hasn’t been easy for me, you know,’ he says.
For him? What the hell does he think it’s been like for me? But I don’t want to start a row. Can’t handle that right now. So I bite my tongue as I always do. It’s better this way. ‘I’m sorry,’ I mumble, pulling out some black leggings and a long pink swing top with a scooped neckline so I don’t have to look at him.
‘It’s been hard work holding down my job and trying to look after you, too. I’m up to my eyeballs in the launch of this new drug and under immense pressure.’ He blows out a frustrated breath. ‘Do you really not remember anything, or is this just some cry for attention?’
I look up sharply. ‘How can you think that?’
He raises his eyebrows. ‘Because I know you and your family history.’
‘What does that mean?’ My voice jumps louder.
‘Look…’ He glances out to the corridor. One of the nurses at the station is now looking at us through the open doorway of my room. He sits down heavily on the chair next to my bed. ‘If you don’t remember, then you obviously don’t know how upsetting it was for me to find you like that before. It was just awful. You were crazy. Shouting and shrieking and lashing out at me.’
‘I don’t remember. I’ve lost my memory.’ I fight to keep my emotions in check. It won’t do any good to lose it. I could end up sectioned again, and then where would I be? Apart from in the mental wing, of course. I twist the edge of the stiff, cold bed sheets into a knot. Untwist. Twist. Untwist. ‘When you went back home, did you check for any more signs of a break-in like the police suggested?’ I’m hoping for some sort of clue as to how I could’ve ended up in that place in the woods.
‘Yes, and there was nothing, just like I thought.’
I rummage further in the bag and pull out toiletries. Deodorant, shower gel, soap, toothbrush and toothpaste. I would kill for a shower. A sour smell of sweat and vomit and dirt clings to me. I can smell my breath when I talk. The nurse told me I shouldn’t get my hands wet for a few days, so she’s promised me a sponge bed bath later. Lucky me. ‘Thank you for bringing these,’ I say.
‘You’re welcome.’ He wrinkles his nose. ‘I thought you could do with them.’
I start to cry again, the tears sliding tracks down my cheeks and onto the leggings. ‘This man who took me…’ I trail off. Swallow. Breathe. ‘What if he comes back? What if—’
He holds a hand up to stop me talking. ‘He won’t come back.’ He pronounces each word very slowly, as if he’s talking to someone who’s deaf.
‘But how do you know?’
He takes in a deep breath and holds it for a while before he speaks. ‘Because it didn’t happen, darling. You heard what the doctors said. It was just a hallucination. It wasn’t real.’
‘Did you see my handbag when you got home?’ I wipe the tears on the sheet. ‘Or my mobile phone?’
‘No. I wasn’t really looking for them.’
‘My bag would be hanging on the hook on the back of the kitchen door, just where it always is.’
‘I didn’t notice.’
‘It’s just that…what if he has my bag? My house keys are in there. My bankcards. Things with our address on them. He might know where I live. He might come back!’
The nurse appears in the doorway. ‘Everything all right, Chloe?’
I sniff. ‘Yes. Thank you.’
Liam sits on my bed, cuddling me and cradling my head on his shoulder. ‘She’s OK, just a little exhausted, I think.’ I hear concern in his voice.
‘Let me know if you need anything.’ She gives me a sympathetic smile before going back to her desk.
‘If it makes you feel better, I’ll change the locks and cancel your bank cards. OK?’ Liam says in a soothing tone, stroking my back.
‘I want to go home,’ I croak out.
‘Quite honestly, darling, I think this is the best place for you at the moment.’
9
The sun filters through the back window of the police car, warming my bones. I rest my forehead against the glass and close my eyes.
‘Are you OK?’ Summers asks.
My eyelids flutter open. ‘It’s nice to be out of hospital in the fresh air.’
‘I had a hernia operation once,’ Flynn says from the drivers’ seat. ‘Couldn’t wait to get out. It’s the smell. It gets to you after a while.’
‘We’re nearly there.’ Summers twists in his seat to face me.
I stare out of the window as we drive up a country lane, passing the golf course on our left and Sherrardspark Woods on our right. The trees are thick and lush, an explosion of greenery and moss and branches. At the end of the lane, we turn right onto the Great North Road.
‘Just here.’ Summers points to a sign at the side of the road that indicates a bend up ahead. ‘This is where you were found by the driver.’
Flynn slows the car to a stop, and we get out. The doors closing echo with a metallic bang in the stillness. Birds let out excited chatter and melodic singing.
‘Do you recognize anything?’ Summers asks.
I look at the road from all angles. Everything looks different in the daylight. ‘I think I came from this direction.’ I point towards the trees.
‘Let’s start there, then.’
We walk across the road an
d enter the woods.
‘Did you know the first recorded history of these woods dates back to an entry in the Domesday Book in 1086?’ Flynn asks no one in particular.
‘No, I didn’t.’ Summers gives him a disinterested look, which doesn’t deter Flynn from carrying on with his history lesson.
‘I didn’t either, until I started checking the maps for any signs of underground structures. Interesting, though, isn’t it?’
‘Is it?’ Summers says in a bored tone.
‘Yes. Apparently, fossils and Stone Age artefacts of ancient pottery have been recorded here, although they've never found any evidence of ancient settlements.’
Summers raises an eyebrow. ‘How about telling me something useful, like whether you found anything marked on the maps that might actually help?’
‘Er…no. The whole woods cover 185 acres, but I couldn’t see any signs of underground structures or buildings marked anywhere.’
‘That’s a lot of ground.’ Summers looks at me. ‘How far do you think you ran?’
‘I don’t know.’
‘How long were you running for, then? A minute? Two? Ten?’
I clench my fists at my side, frantically looking around for something I recognize. I’m not exactly fit. I walk the half hour to work because I can’t drive, but apart from that, I don’t exercise. I don’t know how long could I run under normal circumstances. I’ve never tried. And these weren’t normal circumstances. I was running for my life, adrenaline pumping hard, fear chasing at my heels. ‘It’s all a bit hazy. Maybe ten minutes?’
Summers glances at me as we walk. ‘You said the place underground was made of brick and concrete?’
‘Yes, with some doorways in it.’
‘And the last door opened up into the ground, like a kind of trap door?’
I stop walking, squeeze my eyes shut, trying to think. It feels like I’ve got one foot stuck in a past I don’t remember and one foot in the present. One false move and I’ll be ripped right down the middle. ‘I ran along a corridor to a doorway. I opened the doorway, and there were steps upwards. There was a hatch at the top, and I pushed it open. Then I was in the woods, running, and it was dark.’
Flynn and Summers exchange a look. ‘How big was the structure?’ Flynn takes my hand to guide me over a fallen tree. I slip on the moss covering it and he grips my arms, holding me upright. ‘Careful,’ Flynn says.
‘I don’t know. The room I was in was about seven metres by five metres, but I don’t know how big the whole place was.’ I scan the area, desperately hoping to see something. Anything I can pinpoint that will help to prove I’m right and that this isn’t just a figment of my crazed imagination.
After an hour of walking, Summers pulls some bottles of water out of his rucksack and hands them out. I hold the cool plastic to my forehead, breathing heavily as the world falls apart around me.
‘Do you want to sit down?’ Summers takes my hand and guides me to another fallen log to sit on.
‘I must be more worn out than I thought.’ Everything swims in and out of focus.
‘It’s OK. We’re not in a rush.’ Summers hands me a chocolate bar. ‘Here, eat this.’
I wait for my vision to refocus then tear off the wrapper and stuff it in the pocket of my top. I take a bite of warm, soft chocolate and swallow it down with some water. ‘I could hear dripping,’ I say.
‘That might not help much,’ Summers replies.
I swallow another bite. ‘The bone I used to scrape out the render in the doorway. I think it was human.’ I finally put the thought I’ve been trying to hide in a corner of my brain into words. ‘There might’ve been someone else down there. He may have done this before.’
‘What makes you think it was human?’ Flynn asks.
‘It was too big to be a cat or a dog or fox. What other kind of animal would be out here?’
‘Deer? Badger? Muntjac?’ Flynn suggests.
‘I’m pretty sure it was a leg bone. A human femur,’
‘Just one bone?’ Summers give me a noncommittal look and takes a swig of water.
‘I only found one, but it was pitch-black in there. There could’ve been others.’ I stand up, and we resume walking. We trail slowly through the dense woods for another hour, but everything looks the same. Miles and miles of oak trees, silver birch, hornbeam, cherry. A woodpecker drumming at the bark in the distance. Shrubs, bracken, logs. And bluebells everywhere, creating a carpet of soft lilac. I never want to see another bluebell as long as I live. I stand still, trying to pierce behind the colourful veil into the shadows beyond. Somewhere out there is the place I was held captive. ‘I’m sorry. I just…I’m not helping much, am I?’
‘Let’s head back.’ Summers pulls out his mobile phone and presses a few buttons. ‘GPS. So we can find our way out.’ He turns to his left and walks in front. ‘We made enquiries with the college. I spoke to the Principal, Theresa Higgins. She confirmed you’d been off sick since the miscarriage.’
‘What else did she say?’
‘That you’re a good teacher. The students love you. You’re professional and competent but not particularly close friends with any colleagues. She said to give you her regards.
‘We also checked with your neighbours to see if anyone remembers seeing you or anyone else at your house. But no one noticed anything untoward or suspicious.’
My chest deflates like a balloon that’s had all the air let out. No one saw anything. No one knows anything. Including me. ‘If I did have a reaction to the Silepine and was in a psychotic state, hallucinating, don’t you think someone would’ve seen it? I mean, it’s five miles from my house to where I was found. Surely, someone must’ve noticed me somewhere along the way.’
‘You’d be surprised.’ Summers raises his eyebrows. ‘A few months ago, we were all called out looking for an Alzheimer’s patient who wandered off from his residential home. Even the helicopter was out searching. He was eventually found ten miles away, and no one called in to report a confused gentleman wandering around. The only reason we found him was because he ended up in a shopping mall and refused to leave when security was closing up.’
‘No one wants to get involved these days,’ Flynn complains. ‘A crime could be happening right in front of someone’s nose, and they’d probably keep their head down and walk past.’
We walk in silence for a while as I digest that. Someone out there must have seen me. Would they ever come forward and help? Or had they already forgotten it?
‘Liam said he checked the house thoroughly.’ I risk a glance at Summers. ‘He said there was no sign of a break-in.’
‘Yes, he told me.’
‘He did? When?’
‘He called this morning from work to see how we were getting on.’
I chew on my lower lip and wonder what else he’s told them. ‘Did he mention if he’d found my bag and my phone? He was going to have another look for them.’
‘No. Are they missing?’
‘I don’t know. I need to check at home. Liam said he’d cancel my bank cards and get the locks changed.’
‘That’s a good precaution. We advised him to change the locks yesterday, just in case,’ Flynn says. ‘We checked your bank accounts. The last time you used your debit card was to withdraw three hundred pounds on the fourth of May.’
‘Oh. That doesn’t ring any bells. I wish I could tell you more, but I just don’t… I can’t…’ I stand still, taking big gulps of air.
Summers and Flynn wait for me.
I look Summers dead in the eye. ‘I’m not making this up. Despite what Liam may have said to you, and what apparently happened to me before, I’m not lying.’
‘I didn’t say you were.’ Summers gives me a tight-lipped smile.
‘Have you spoken to Sara? Maybe I told her something. Maybe I was going to go somewhere and she knows about it.’
‘Sara, your best friend, who’s in India?’ Flynn says.
‘Yes. She was flying out there the d
ay before Liam’s party.’
‘Liam didn’t have a number for her.’ Flynn pulls out the notebook from his pocket. ‘Do you know it, by any chance?’
‘Yes.’ I rattle off her mobile number from memory. He scribbles it down and underlines it several times.
When we get back to the car, the hot sun is moving over the horizon. It looks like summer has well and truly arrived early for once. I slide into the back seat as Summers and Flynn get in the front. Summers take his mobile out of his pocket. ‘Right, what’s Sara’s number?’ he asks Flynn.
Flynn shows him his notepad then flicks a few pages backwards and points to something I can’t see. Summers nods, punches in some numbers, and listens to the phone. I can hear the dialling tone ringing loudly. It rings and rings then cuts off.
‘Sometimes when she’s travelling, you can’t get hold of her for days or even weeks. She goes off on all these weird and adventurous trips in the middle of nowhere, and there’s no phone signal or Internet access.’
‘We’ll keep trying her,’ he says. ‘I spoke to Dr Traynor about your condition when you were brought into hospital. He says you were dehydrated but not severely so. It’s possible you didn’t drink for a day or two, which is the only thing we have to go on regarding a possible timeline.’
Two days? Was I underground for two whole days?
‘We’ve done some checks on your home phone number, but there were no calls made to or from your house within that time frame that might give us some leads. We got your mobile number from Liam and checked that, too.’ His forehead creases.
‘Did I call anyone?’
‘There were several calls to and from the number you just gave us. Sara’s number. We were waiting for the phone provider to give us information as to whose number this was, but now you’ve just confirmed it for us.’
At least I’d done something helpful.
‘On the twenty-ninth of April, you called Sara’s number and spoke for over an hour. There was also a missed call from her to you on the sixth of May but nothing after that.’
Maybe I had told Sara a vital clue. If I’d phoned her, maybe she could tell me how I came to be in that place. A spark of hope lights up inside.