‘Dale!’
We both look up and see Harry gesturing for Dale to go to him.
Dale looks unsure what to do so I take a platter of cakes from him. ‘I can manage now. Thanks.’
He goes to speak again but appears to think better of it. I watch as he makes his way over to Harry, passing by Jason and Elle, who is trying on Kenzie’s Apple watch.
I hear laughter coming from the raffle table and see Iain is now standing with Savannah. She’s laughing at something he’s just said, judging by the pleased look on his face.
His hand reaches out and pats the side of her bare upper arm.
He flushes red, lets his hand drop.
I look away.
I wrap my hands around my upper arms, feeling cold despite my cardigan, and walk back towards the house. I stop when I reach the grassy verge. Part of me wants to disappear inside the house but I know I need to be out here. I stare down at the grass and dig the toe of my trainer into the soft soil.
I close my eyes and try to dial down my senses. I can hear the sound of traffic not far away. I can hear the faint thump of music coming from somewhere.
I breathe in deep. I can smell freshly cut grass and . . . smoke. Cigarette smoke. Then I feel a hand on my hip.
I open my eyes, gasp and take a step back.
‘Shouldn’t you be over there?’
‘Jesus, John . . .’
He smiles then takes another puff on his cigarette. ‘Jumpy, aren’t we?’
I frown. ‘I didn’t hear you. What are you doing sneaking up on me like that?’
He drops the cigarette butt, and extinguishes it underfoot. He has a playful look in his eyes now. ‘Wasn’t sneaking.’
‘I thought you weren’t coming?’ I say, looking over his shoulder. Iain and Savannah aren’t where they were seconds ago.
‘If Iain sees you—’
‘He wouldn’t make a scene here, surely?’
I shrug, genuinely not sure.
‘Look, I just came to drop a present off.’
I narrow my eyes.
‘For Elle?’
‘Oh . . . You can give it to me and I’ll leave it inside the house and she can have it later,’ I say. I hold my hand out, but I don’t see anything in his. He must be able to read my face.
‘It’s nothing special, just something small.’ He gestures to his inside coat pocket.
I nod. ‘OK . . .’ I hold my hand out again.
I see the look on his face. He’s hurt but I can’t help that.
‘Come on, John, you know it’s difficult for me.’
He nods. ‘Yeah, Iain’s a hypocrite.’
‘What?’
‘You heard me.’
I laugh, but there’s no humour in it. ‘What’s that supposed to mean?’
He turns, gestures towards the green. ‘Savannah here?’
‘Of course she is.’
‘Hmm.’
My mouth drops open but I think better of the words I am about to speak. I can smell something on him. Alcohol, I think. ‘We’ll talk another time,’ I say instead.
He grips my upper arm when I try to pass him.
‘Charlotte.’
I stare at his hand. ‘You’re hurting me, John.’
He lets his hand drop and shakes his head. ‘I’ve wanted to call you. It’s been hard with the police asking questions.’
I can feel myself frowning. ‘They’ve been asking everyone questions, John. That’s their job.’
‘Two of them have shown up today.’
‘They have?’ I say, feeling hopeful.
‘Yeah. DC Farr and DC Braithwaite. They’re the two who came and asked me their ridiculous questions.’
I frown at him. ‘Well, I’m pleased they came; that’s a sign of good faith. I’ll have to go and say hello to them.’
John smiles at me but there’s no warmth in it. He leans towards me, making me recoil.
‘It’s . . . unnerving, isn’t it?’ he says, his eye wandering over me.
‘Only if you’ve done something wrong . . . Look, John, if you’re going to stay, could you please avoid Iain? Now’s not the time for any hostility.’
I don’t wait for an answer because a car pulls up in front of the house and I can’t believe she came.
Ruth gets out, eyes hidden behind large, dark sunglasses. Her face is pale, her long hair scuffed back into a ponytail.
She attempts a smile but it’s painful to see. She’s lost so much weight in the last few weeks. Her top and jeans look like they’re hanging off her.
I go to her. ‘I thought you weren’t coming?’
She hugs me. ‘I wasn’t, but I felt worse sitting at home with Mike.’
John brushes past us, tips his head to Ruth, mutters a muted hello and heads back towards the green.
‘It means a lot that you’ve come,’ I say, trying to forget my conversation with John. ‘It can’t be easy for you.’
She shrugs. ‘I can’t be with Mike right now. He’s watching all these home videos of Caroline and I . . .’ She trails off, choked. I see a tear roll down her cheek from underneath her sunglasses. ‘I can’t hear her voice right now. I just can’t.’ She grips my arms. ‘I’m a mess, Charlotte.’
I draw her into me and hold her tight as her body shakes against mine. ‘It’s OK. It’ll be OK.’ I hear my words but even to me they sound inadequate, hollow.
Why do we say these things? Lie to ourselves, our friends, our neighbours?
Does it ever really soften the blow of the pain that we know isn’t over, and probably never will be?
I always thought it was bad when the girls started going missing. I wanted nothing more than to see them reunited with their families. Back then, there was still hope. But when they were found? Somehow, it’s been much worse.
Our lives here have been stained.
With Bryony still not found, it’s like a weight hanging over everyone. Just waiting for the inevitable.
Ruth eases herself away from me now, pushes her sunglasses up a little and uses a tissue to wipe her eyes.
She turns at the sound of laughter.
We both see Elle laughing at something with her friends.
‘To be a mother is the most precious gift,’ she says, turning to look at me again. ‘We should hold our children that bit tighter each day . . . I only wish I’d done the same.’
CHAPTER 22
ANON
God, I LOVE this neighbourhood, this village and its community spirit or whatever the fuck it’s called. So many opportunities present themselves and soon you’re invited to barbecues, house warmings, fancy, Come Dine with Me-style schmooze-fests.
Kiddies’ parties, or crap like today’s pretentious charity event, where any minute now some cunt’s going to grab a guitar and we’ll be forced to listen to some cringe-worthy rendition of ‘Kum-Ba-fucking-Ya’.
Can you believe that there’s a table in the middle of the green where you can make donations, surrounded by photographs of the dead teens? I also overheard someone say they are planning to hold a minute’s silence and release a basket of doves in their memory.
Yes, really. Doves.
Surveying the scene, I see there really is a pathetic, never-ending supply of vacuous, school-gate mums, balding, beer-bloated dads, and their nauseating little missed abortions running around pissing off the neighbours.
I watch the fete-thingy unfold around me and I don’t like what I see. The police are here; I mean, you can practically smell them a mile off, even if they’re trying their best to blend in and mingle.
I might be a devil and go have a chat later. Give their hands a shake and laugh inside because they won’t have a clue how close they are to a killer.
I look at everything around me here today, laid out, all wrapped up in vom-inducing human kindness.
All this for a few dead girls. Frankly, it’s ridiculous.
Fear of me should be alive among the whole community. My name on their lips, my crimes playing out inside their heads,
a living nightmare, like I’m the bogeyman come to run away with their daughters.
Might have to step it all up a notch. Bryony’s been a missing person for far too long now. Well, I’ve taken steps to fix that. She’s bound to be found soon.
I wonder what newspaper I’ll get into this time?
I hear a cheer. I can see it’s come from Elle. She’s won some shitty prize with her raffle ticket, or something. I can tell you right now, those things are a fix. Total waste of money.
That pretty necklace she always wears around her neck, the clover, it shines every so often, the silver catching the light.
I’ll have to drop off Elle’s gift and make a swift exit . . .
Oh my God, she’s getting excited over a soft toy she won – bloody hell and I thought she was supposed to be growing up fast.
That’s funny – that term, they’re growing up so fast . . . What I see is hardly a grown-up, or any signs of grow-ing up.
All I see is a spoilt little cunt.
Ah, well. C’est la vie and all that . . .
CHAPTER 23
CHARLOTTE
‘Charlotte?’
I hear Iain’s voice and look up. He stands in the bedroom doorway. He gives the bedroom a quick once-over and frowns. ‘What are you doing up here?’
I’m sitting on our bed, facing the window, looking out at the green. My head feels thick, like cotton wool.
That conversation with Ruth, her words, had thrown me and her sadness was all consuming, not helped by the encounter with John, and with Dale about work. It has left my head spinning.
‘I think I’ve had too many late nights with all the planning for today and it’s caught up with me.’ I smile and hope he accepts this and doesn’t go to the window because I know he might be able to see John from up here.
Iain comes and sits down next to me. The mattress dips under his weight and my body moves into him. It’s not intentional but I like the closeness.
‘You’re being missed outside. Savannah’s looking for you,’ he says, and presses his hand on my arm.
The image I saw earlier, of Iain and Savannah looking cosy outside, fills my mind.
I push his hand away from me.
‘Ruth’s here,’ I say.
‘Hmm.’
He pats my thigh and gets up, not really hearing me.
‘Have you seen the two coppers outside?’ he says. ‘I know you invited someone to come along as a representative, but I didn’t think anyone would actually come.’ He heads towards the window.
I dive forward and grab his hand. ‘Come here,’ I say, pulling him, but he won’t be moved. He looks down on the green outside.
He pulls his hand from mine.
‘Did you really think I wouldn’t notice he was here?’
‘Who?’
‘He’s outside now. You invited him.’
I’ve got nothing to hide and I’m not in the wrong here. ‘If you mean John Hague,’ I say, trying to keep my tone measured, ‘he knew about this fete, it’s never been a secret. It was always an open invitation to the community.’
I see Iain’s jaw working and I think he’s being unfair.
‘He is part of the community.’
Iain turns to look at me now.
‘You’ve seen him again, haven’t you?’
I nod. ‘Outside, earlier.’
‘Don’t feign ignorance, Charlotte, it doesn’t suit you.’
As soon as the words have escaped Iain’s lips, I immediately know what he must be referring to. I need to buy some time, no matter how little, to think, otherwise there’s going to be a huge argument.
I stand up and go to the dressing table, begin to tidy it up, anything to avoid looking at him. ‘I don’t know what you mean.’
His hands are suddenly on my shoulder, forcing me to around so he can to look at me.
‘John.’ He practically spits the words. I go to speak but he cuts in. ‘What did he want this time?’
I shake my head. ‘I haven’t—’
‘You were seen, Char.’
I pause, try not to waver under the weight of his stare. His eyes seem to be a darker shade than usual.
‘You had coffee with him. In Rutland Heath, the day after I told you not to go.’ Iain pauses, not asking a question, stating a fact. ‘Even when you told me you wouldn’t.’
Iain’s just watching me, letting this information sink in, silently making sure I know it’s pointless trying to lie, but who told him? Who saw us? Harry or Dale?
Iain’s searching my face and it unnerves me. I know I need to say something. I’d better not lie. He clearly has someone he talks to who is not on my side.
‘There’s no need to be jealous,’ I say. The words sound forced. My lips feel almost stuck together, every word an effort to speak.
Iain smiles, but I notice the creases don’t reach his eyes.
‘I’m not, but I wish you wouldn’t make a point of hiding it. It makes you look guilty.’
I match his stare now. I’ve done nothing wrong. ‘Don’t make something out of nothing.’
He’s saying something to me but I’m not really taking in his words. I’m more concerned about who told him. Someone obviously saw us that day.
If it wasn’t Harry or Dale, then maybe Jason. Jason seems more plausible; he’s on the road on jobs a lot.
Then I wonder if Iain himself had seen me. He could’ve driven past while on a break or on his way to a job.
He can pretend otherwise, but I can see he’s inflamed by jealousy.
I’ve seen it before.
Christ, he even gets jealous of his own daughter. Of how much I care for Elle. He’s said to me before it would always be her over him in anything. ‘Life or death situation, Char, you’d choose to save Elle over me.’
In a heartbeat.
That’s what I always think but never say. I usually tell him not to be so dramatic.
The way he’s looking at me now, I can see what’s going to happen next. I press my hands flat against his chest and ease him back.
‘I need to get back to the guests.’
He’s pressing himself tight against me. ‘You can spare twenty minutes.’ He tries to kiss me.
I turn my head. His lips land on my cheek. His hands slide down my back and I feel the very real strength behind his touch.
‘Someone might hear.’
He shrugs. ‘So?’
‘So, what if someone comes in? What if Elle came in?’
He looks at me intently. ‘That didn’t bother you last night.’
I flinch. ‘Last night?’
‘Yeah, when you were wailing like a banshee.’ He pulls me closer.
I pause. ‘Last night . . .’
When I don’t answer he gestures to his back. ‘You did a complete number on me, although you were a bit out of it, so maybe it’s a bit of a blur.’
I frown. ‘Your back?’
‘Yeah.’
He turns his back to me, yanks his T-shirt right up over his shoulders. I see the red scratches, the raised, blooded scabs in places and a deep, bruising welt of a bite.
Iain turns back to me, letting his T-shirt drop. ‘You only had two glasses as far as I remember but you were a bit of an animal.’
I remember having sex but I hadn’t realised I’d been like that.
I’m a little shocked at myself – since the accident, I haven’t been able to drink much, not like I used to. It doesn’t take much now to get me out of it.
‘I didn’t realise,’ I say at length. ‘I’m sorry.’ I feel drawn to Iain’s bedside cabinet as I remember the pills inside the drawer. I shake the thought away.
‘Sorry?’ He reaches for me again. ‘Don’t be sorry.’
He nuzzles my neck, but I squirm away. ‘Not right now, I’ve told you.’ I make for the door.
‘Running off to him now?’ A change in his voice and I know I need to handle this carefully.
‘Don’t be—’
‘Jealous?’
‘Yes. Don’t be. There’s no need to be.’
He folds his arms tight across his chest, raises his eyebrows at me. ‘Then why not tell me about it?’
‘It was just coffee.’
‘So, again, why not tell me about it?’
‘Because I knew you’d react this way,’ I say, gesturing towards him. ‘I was worried about what you might do if you lost your temper.’
He looks shocked. ‘You’re scared of me? Is that it?’
I can’t answer him.
He scoffs. ‘Come on, stop being so dramatic.’ When he sees I’m serious his face falls. ‘I just don’t like the guy. I can’t help that.’
I swallow hard. Iain hates to be accused of being jealous but I’m going to call him out on his bullshit.
‘There’s nothing going on between me and John. Never will be.’
Iain’s mouth twitches, defiant. ‘Really?’
‘Really,’ I snap.
‘You so sure on his part?’
I’m not, actually . . .
‘Yes. He’s in the process of divorcing. Why would he want to further complicate that? He has his kids to think about in all this.’
He laughs. ‘You’re not that naïve, Char.’
‘John doesn’t like me in that way.’
I turn to leave.
‘That’s not what Savannah thinks.’
I stop dead in my tracks. Savannah’s been talking to Iain behind my back? I look back over my shoulder.
‘People at the hospital all said it. Still say it,’ he says. ‘John wanted you. He still wants you.’
I turn to face him. ‘That’s rubbish.’
‘Is it really, though? Can’t say for certain, can you?’
‘You’ve been talking to Savannah, to my old work mates about me and John?’ I step closer to him. ‘Behind my back?’
‘Someone needs to watch out for you, Char. You worry me, worry your friends.’
‘Savannah’s the only one who’s kept in touch with me since the accident. The others don’t bother, not really. Not even Ruth. I’ve only started being in contact with her more since Caroline went missing. My old friends, they don’t know about my life, not any more. Not to mention it has nothing to do with them.’
‘Ask yourself why he was in the car behind you. That day, on that particular stretch of road, at the same time as you?’
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