The Missing Witness

by Jo Smedley

  “Probably the only one we have left,” I added. The only other person was Russ, but while he may have killed Lesley, he would only have been around two years old when Geoff disappeared, so could hardly be held liable for that one.

  “You are SURE he’s dead. Not just hiding?” If Geoff was still alive and well he was a suspect. He could have turned up to reacquaint himself with his offspring and didn’t like the reaction he’d prompted. “People vanish for years you know.”

  “I know. But it’s very rare that these vanished people turn back up again. Missing cases are rarely solved and when they are, it’s usually by the appearance of a dead body.”

  “So why don’t we find the body?”

  She looked at me. It was something we hadn’t tried yet. But it wasn’t like we could go around digging holes in people’s lawns! We had no reason to dig up Gill and Pete’s grounds and there was no reasonable excuse I could think of for doing it either. Pete was a builder. He’d probably see right through any ruse Irene could concoct. Besides, they’d surely smell a rat if two women and a baby turned up to dig up a lawn looking for a cable.

  It turned out digging up the lawn wasn’t Irene’s plan. Instead we all bundled out of the car outside Fiona’s house yet again and knocked on the door.

  She answered fairly quickly, Nicholas in her arms.

  “Oh! Hello again!” If she was concerned we were being a nuisance there was no evidence of it on her face.

  “I know this is a little awkward,” Irene said. “But I noticed Lou’s family had a Philadelphus in the back garden. I love mock orange and wondered if you think they’d mind if I took a few cuttings, to see if I could get it to grow?”

  She sounded so casual about it. The fact we’d spent an hour pawing through horticultural gardening books in her house trying to a) remember what we’d seen over the fence and b) work out what they were called, was never hinted at. She sounded quite the horticultural specialist.

  “Oh. I know the one you mean,” Fiona smiled. “Yes, I’ve been trying to get a cutting to grow for ages. I just can’t get it to take. What do you use?”

  I looked to Irene. What was she going to say?

  “Oh, just the usual. Rooting powder. Sometimes it works, sometimes not. But if you take enough cuttings, you improve your chances, and my garden’s really sheltered.”

  Oh, it was. Mainly because it was overgrown with weeds. Irene had more weeds in her garden than I did, and I thought mine was bad. She claimed she liked blackberries and was supporting the wildlife. I thought it far more likely that she simply hated gardening and did the bare minimum possible. Though for some reason her “wilderness garden” as she called it, looked much better than my cultivated one. Typical.

  “Just go round and ask. I’m sure they won’t mind. They’re both in I think. Gill’s not gone back to work yet. She’s on compassionate leave still.”

  “Oh… do you think they’ll mind?” Irene asked, mock concerned.

  “No. It’ll take her mind off things, and it’s not like you’re total strangers. You know Lou after all. Just knock. Say I sent you round.”

  It was amazing the difference a few weeks made. We weren’t strangers any more, collecting money for charity, but family friends. We had a right now to intrude on their neighbour’s grief.

  “Thanks!” Irene smiled. “I do love the smell of a Philadelphus in the summer. I’ve been after one for a while.”

  We said goodbye and tootled off down the pavement towards the house.

  Pete was out. The van wasn’t in the drive. It had been the first thing Irene had checked on pulling up. The last thing we needed was Pete home. That would be one too many coincidences to explain. I hoped Joe wasn’t calling in on his girlfriend either, otherwise that could have been awkward too, but Irene hadn’t thought that a concern. If we go early enough he probably won’t be out of bed. He’s a student remember?

  The front garden had been bricked over in a herring bone pattern. There were just a few carefully tended semi-circular beds containing shrubs around the edges of the outer walls. It all looked neat. Not like my rag tag front patch which lurked behind the high privet hedge. Too thin to landscape, too deep to do anything decorative.

  Close up, the house, while modernised, didn’t look as out of place as it had from a distance. Everything had its place. The render was smooth, and the front paving gave it an almost Mediterranean feel, or if not Mediterranean, then certainly modern. The exposed bleached woodwork added to the effect and I could appreciate the glass roof on the porch from this distance. It shed some lovely natural light inside the front of the house, and I could see the clean pastel shades extended into the property. The hallway an off white, clean surface with inserted shelving and clutter free lines.

  While I’d never live in a house like it, I could appreciate the aesthetics, part of me looked forward to seeing inside the property to see how they’d adapted the rest. Had they knocked through rooms to create more open plan spaces?

  Irene pressed the door bell and it lit up repeatedly, demonstrating that something had happened internally, even though we couldn’t actually hear the bell. It must have rung towards the back of the house, as very soon I could see the stick-thin shape of Lou approaching the front door. She opened it.

  “Hello again,” she smiled. Uncertain. It was a little odd, after all, people she’d met only next door the other day turning up out of the blue on her doorstep.

  Irene gave her the patter about the shrub and she called back into the house to Gill to explain what we wanted. Gill stuck her head out of one of the back rooms.

  She looked calm, but in a restrained way, the way you know there’s lots bubbling away under the surface, but it had all been papered over. Her face gave the impression of a thin sheet of plaster. One that covered the cracks, but that was easily fractured and broken if anything shifted underneath.

  Gone was the business like face of the woman at the funeral, or the outraged woman at Rose’s place. In its place was a cliff face mid-erosion. I wondered if she’d recognise me. I hadn’t thought about it before, but we’d had that conversation… would she remember, or was the day a blur to her? Her eyes took in Irene. They rolled over me, and then jarred at Lillian. Unthinkingly I’d dressed Lillian in her lilac outfit. The same outfit she’d worn to the funeral.

  “Have we met?” she asked.

  “No, no I don’t think so,” Irene cut in before I could say anything. “You might have seen us next door. Ruth knows Janice from baby group.”

  “Oh… that could be it,” she said. But her eyes hadn’t left Lillian. They narrowed a little. “Your little girl just looks so familiar.”

  I shuffled Lillian around onto my other hip, momentarily hiding her face. “All babies look the same when they’re younger, don’t you think?” I said, continuing with Irene’s cover.

  “I suppose.” She turned to Lou.

  “They wondered if they could take a cutting or two from one of our shrubs,” she explained. “The one out the back, the…” She turned to Irene.

  “Philadelphus. It’s the mock orange blossom; white flowers, smells nice in the summer?”

  Gill smiled. “Yes. Feel free. You take them through, Lou.”

  “I’m really sorry,” Irene said as we passed Gill. “Fiona told me what happened. Must be quite a shock.”

  “It is,” Gill said. “But everything carries on doesn’t it?” She sounded so defeated. For a woman we thought had killed her daughter, she was certainly giving a good impression of grief. I wondered if we had it right. So far the only person who’d seemed more concerned about himself than Lesley was Russ. And I wondered, not for the first time, if we had this all wrong. Perhaps Gill had been in denial at the funeral. That was a stage in grief. If so, then that impression of a self-controlled, fully in charge of herself mother, had given way to someone who was clearly in inner turmoil.

  We followed Lou into the garden, and Irene brought a pair of secateurs out of her handbag, along with a lit
tle freezer bag to put the cuttings in. When she came up with a ruse, she went the full way. She started taking cuttings. She looked very proficient, examining the bush for knots in the twigs as she trimmed, peeling off the odd leaf here and there. I wouldn’t have known she wasn’t a gardener.

  As she trimmed she talked.

  “I suppose the house wasn’t always like this.”

  “No. It’s been extended a bit.”

  “I bet you have a lovely view out of your bedroom window.”

  “Yes. I’ve got a lovely view out the back. Mum’s got the other one.”

  “How many bedrooms does it have now?

  “The same. Just three, the box room is just a bit bigger now.” I listened and watched the conversation unfold, keeping Lillian in sight as she poddled around on the grass grasping clumsily at daisies. Lou had no idea she was being pumped for information.

  “I suppose you and your sister didn’t have to share a room growing up then.”

  “No. Lesley had the one at the front, the biggest one it was back then, before the extension. She liked the street lights at night. She was always a little scared of the dark.”

  I looked at Irene. If Lesley had seen a body being carried and buried at night, it wouldn’t have been in their own back garden. I could tell by her face she’d had the same thought.

  “There. That’s it. I don’t suppose I could be cheeky and have a walk around while I’m here, just to see what else you’ve got?”

  “No. That’s fine. Lillian looks like she’s enjoying exploring anyway.”

  And she did. Lillian had widened her activities and was now peering into bushes on the other side of the garden. I recognised a fuchsia, which was about the only shrub I could name because of the recognisable ballerina style flowers that dangled from it.

  Irene headed off to the flower border on the other side of the garden. She kept glancing surreptitiously up at the house, as did I. Trying not to make it too obvious we were checking where all the other windows were. Working out the angles. What view each one had.

  There was just one at the side of the house. But it was small and looked like it was either a landing window or a bathroom one. I tried to think where the stairs were. Yes. It could be the landing window. The box design of the house would lend itself to an upper landing window. It was the elongated houses like the one I lived in that lacked any windows in the hall. I had to remember this was originally the same size as Fiona’s house. In her house there had been a window on the landing, just outside the bathroom where the stairs started. That must be what that window was.

  There were no other windows along this side, which meant whatever room Lesley slept in the windows were all at the front, overlooking the houses of the cul-de-sac. Whichever garden the body was buried in, it wasn’t their own.

  “Oh! Do you mind if I take a cutting from this one?” Irene asked, secateurs out.

  “No. Go right ahead.”

  Irene started snipping. I had no idea what the shrub was and I would have bet a tenner she didn’t either. It was just another excuse to stop and talk.

  So…,” she said. “You and Lesley and Janice were good friends growing up I guess.” I couldn’t see where she was going, but there would be a reason for the new tack in the conversation.

  “Yes. All four of us hung around together when we were young.”

  “Four?”

  “Paul, too. Janice’s older brother.”

  “Oh yes. I’d forgotten about him,” Irene smiled. Had she really, or was it another ruse to keep Lou talking? “The one in Cambridge with the people carrier. Did you ever try signalling between the houses at night? I can remember doing it with a friend when I was younger.”

  Lou smiled. “No. None of our windows faced the right way. We tried. But we just couldn’t see each other. Not without almost falling out of the window anyway. Lesley’s room was on the wrong side. We’d have been all right if we’d been signalling the Johnsons. That’s the other side. Well, it was the other side. Bill and Jean Bradley are in there now. Mr and Mrs Johnson left a while back.”

  “Nice couple?”

  “Bill and Jean? Yeah. All right. Bit old really for that house. The Johnsons’s extended it. They wanted a big family I think. Then it all went wrong. They left in the end. Downsized. Too much of a reminder.”

  “Oh. What a shame. What did they have done?”

  “Knocked out the whole back end. Major extension. A bit like what mum did with this place I suppose. Pete did both. It was him that had the idea to do this place, only he did ours better he says.”

  I smiled. Of course he did. What workman didn’t improve things second time around.

  “He worked on that place for nearly a year. The whole interior was knocked about as well. They moved out while he did it. Mum didn’t. We stayed in this place while the work was going on. Mess? You should have seen it! I thought she was going to kill Pete some nights!”

  “I can imagine,” I said. “When they did our kitchen it took 12 weeks and that was bad enough. I can’t imagine what it would be like taking down the whole back end of the house.”

  “I wouldn’t recommend it,” Lou said. “Unless you can afford to move out that is, in which case, why not just buy a different house!”

  I laughed along with her. She really did have an infectious laugh. I could see why she and Janice got along so well. Even when grieving Lou was a joy to be around.

  “What is it you’re doing out in Thailand?” I asked. Curious. No one had actually brought it up while we were round at Fiona’s place.

  “Environmental work.”

  “Save the rain forest stuff?”

  “No. Environmental studies. The impact of the dam projects upriver on the ecology downriver. It’s not that thrilling. But it looks great on the C.V., even if it’s not so great on the bank account. But the experience. Hell. The experience is worth every penny.”

  She grinned wildly and her eyes sparkled, and then they dimmed again and a shadow crossed her face. I knew what she was thinking. Lesley would have loved to hear all about it. She would have come home and chatted to her sister about everything. And the only reason she was here at all, now, was because Lesley had gone.

  “How long until you go back?” I asked.

  “Another five days. I’m hoping Mum will be OK by then. Well, not OK, but, well, not like she is. Fiona’ll look in. But, it’s hit her hard. Harder than losing Dad.

  “Do you remember that?” I asked.

  “Not really. I was too young. I can’t even remember what he looked like. I’ve seen the photos, so I know, but I don’t know, if you know what I mean, not really. Pete’s been the only dad I’ve known. Lesley remembered him more, but she was only three when he disappeared. She had snippets, memories of things they’d done together. Him piggy-backing her along the beach. Him and mum arguing. He wasn’t… well, apparently he wasn’t a nice man, let’s put it that way. Mum says we’re better off without him.” She looked at me, hoping I’d understand without her having to explain things.

  “What do you think happened?”

  “I don’t know. Mum thought he’d just left her, left us. Run off with another woman. She said there was someone else. Well, she thought there was someone else, anyway. We’ll never know I suppose. Lesley always said he was dead. I’ve always wondered. There’s always that sense of… I don’t know. Did he really hate us that much? He’s never been in touch. All these years, nothing. I think I’d rather think he was dead. It would make me feel better about it. Does that sound really horrid?”

  “No,” I said. “No it doesn’t.”

  I understood exactly what she meant. It was much easier thinking your father had died loving you, than knowing he was alive and well and didn’t want anything to do with you. I was on that other side of the fence and there was nothing crueller.

  “And no one ever saw anything?”

  “No. No one.”

  Irene was watching us. Freezer bag full of cuttings. Lou turned t
o her.

  “All done,” she said, smiling. Holding the bag up to show the cuttings.

  Realising that was our cue to leave I scooped up Lillian from where she was playing at the birdbath, splashing water everywhere, and we all headed towards the back door where we’d come in.

  Gill was still out of sight, presumably in the living room, so Lou escorted us through the house to the front door. Without realising we’d done it, we’d all walked through in silence. Respecting the grief that was so potent within the house.

  As we neared the door I spotted a picture of the girls in happier days. They were standing with Janice and Paul, in a “friends forever” style pose, each hugging the shoulders of the person next to them. They looked to be in the back garden of the house, the photo was clearly taken in summer as they were all in shorts and t-shirts, suntanned and warm. Paul looked a little younger than he had in the photo at Fiona’s, so I guessed late teens, possibly before Lesley left for University.

  “Happier times,” Lou said, following my gaze. “Seems so long ago now. Back then we thought we could do anything. We had all the time in the world.”

  “Who’s that?” Irene asked, pointing at Paul. She’d not seen the same photo I had at Fiona’s. “An old boyfriend?”

  “No,” Lou smiled. “That’s Paul from next door. Janice’s brother. Mum always thought he was sweet on me, but we never went out. He was like the younger brother we never had. I would never have dated him. I knew too much about him. When you’ve seen someone burp the national anthem, you never really look at them in the same way again.”

  I laughed. It felt wrong, in the quiet of the house, but I couldn’t help myself. I had a brother. I knew exactly what she meant. Only boys could attempt something so disgusting and call it a party piece.

  Irene was looking at the photo intently. I wondered what she’d seen that I hadn’t. I checked the photo again. They all looked happy. There was no obvious strain within the group. Paul wasn’t looking at Lesley in any odd way. They were separated physically by Lou who stood between them in the photo, and while their arms were linked, to form the group photo pose, there was no out of place emotion on their faces or any unusual body language. They were just kids.