Frailty: a haunting psychological page-turner

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Frailty: a haunting psychological page-turner Page 8

by Betsy Reavley


  Suddenly everything I thought I understood crumbles in front of me.

  ‘He was not going to prison but they put his name on that list. Then when I was eighteen we left London and moved to Luton where we were married. I do not talk to my family since I left home. I chose Amit.’ Her Indian accent is warm.

  ‘Did you tell the police?’

  ‘Yes, but then they find the shoe,’ she shrugs, ‘and now they don’t want to listen to us.’

  From the other room comes the sound of the baby waking up.

  ‘I have told you all that I know. Amit would not hurt your little girl. I have my own daughter to think of. I am sorry for the pain you are feeling but I have my own family to worry about.’

  ‘I understand.’ Getting up from the sofa I extend my hand. She shakes it awkwardly. ‘I’m sorry for dragging up the past. I just need to find Hope.’

  Simran looks at me with pity. ‘I hope you find your girl.’ From her expression it is clear she thinks this will end badly. ‘You and your family will be in my prayers.’

  As I turn to leave a thought occurs to me.

  ‘If Amit is innocent, then he will be released.’

  ‘He will.’ Simran says softly as she goes to attend to her baby daughter.

  When I go back into the garden I find Danny pacing backwards and forwards like a caged tiger.

  ‘Well?’ He darts over to me hoping I might hold the answers to the nightmare.

  ‘She didn’t say much that was any help.’

  ‘God damn it, Lib. Maybe I should have a go,’ he starts towards the door but I grab his arm.

  ‘Leave it. Let’s go home. I’ll explain everything there.’

  Hope

  ‘If you could have anything in the world right now what would you want?’ I talk into the darkness hoping that Zoe is awake and will talk back.

  ‘A pet pig.’ Zoe giggles.

  ‘I’d like a great big stick of candyfloss. The pink one you get from the fair.’

  ‘I’ve never been to a fair.’ Zoe sounds sad. ‘My mum never takes me.’

  ‘Well when we get out of here you can come with us. My dad is really good at the shooting and he always wins a cuddly toy. He would get one for you, I bet.’

  ‘I’d like that.’

  ‘He’d have to have three goes though because Gracie would be sad if she didn’t get one as well. Then we could all have candyfloss. It’s so yummy in my tummy.’

  ‘I don’t think I’ve tried it.’

  ‘It’s really fun watching them make it in the big silver bowl thing. It’s like pink cotton that spins round and round and then when you tear a bit off it gets all sticky on your fingers and you have to lick them.’

  I can almost taste it I am thinking about it so much. Zoe has gone silent again. I prefer it when she speaks so that I know she is there and I don’t feel so scared.

  ‘Are you there Zoe?’

  ‘Yes.’ Her voice sounds quiet and far away.

  ‘Where are you going?’

  ‘Nowhere. I’m stuck here with you.’ She begins to sob.

  ‘Don’t cry. It will be OK.’ I don’t know if that’s true anymore but I don’t want her to be frightened and I have to be the big girl and look after her, like I do with Gracie.

  ‘I just want to go home.’

  ‘I know. Me too.’

  I don’t know what to say to make either of us feel better. Then I realise that if we can hold hands that might be good.

  ‘Zoe, try and follow my voice. Come as close as you can and hold your arms out.’

  ‘But I can’t see anything.’

  ‘I know but feel around for me and I’ll try and find you. Keep talking and we will find each other, OK?’

  ‘OK.’ There is a little bit of light in her voice and it makes me feel better.

  Fumbling in the utter darkness it’s hard to tell what I am touching. It feels like wood and I follow the edge round.

  ‘Keep talking Zoe.’

  ‘OK.’ Her voice sounds closer and I start to think this might work.

  ‘Do you know your left and right?’

  ‘Only if I can see my hands.’ Her voice sounds closer still.

  ‘I think you’re really close now.’ For the first time in ages I start to feel excited. ‘Keep your hands out in front of you.’

  ‘I am.’

  Beneath my fingertips all I can feel is the smooth wood then suddenly I come across something new that feels like fabric.

  Zoe screams out, a real shriek that hurts my ears.

  ‘It’s me!’ I think I might burst with happiness. ‘It’s OK, it’s just me.’

  Zoe starts crying again. ‘I thought it was a monster.’

  ‘Here feel for my hand.’ I stay still because I don’t want to lose her again and keep my hands grabbing on to the fabric of what I think is the back of her top. ‘Turn around.’ I feel the fabric being pulled away from me and panic starts to set in. ‘Don’t let go!’

  Then a small, cold hand grabs me by the wrist and I know we are finally facing each other. We pull each other close and hug for a long time.

  ‘I’m so glad I found you.’ I tell Zoe, wanting to cry. It’s difficult being brave all the time. ‘Let’s sit down together and not let go, OK?’

  ‘OK.’

  Gripping her hand in mine we lower ourselves back down again and sit in silence wondering what to do next.

  ‘I was thinking you could come and live with me when we get out of here. I’m sure my mum wouldn’t mind. You could sleep in the bedroom with Gracie and me. It would be fun. You could be our sister.’

  ‘I’d like that.’ Zoe squeezes my hand tightly.

  ‘Then you could have a proper dad too.’

  ‘But we need to get out of here first.’

  ‘I know. Can you remember how you got here?’

  ‘No, nothing.’

  ‘But if we got in then we must be able to get out. There has to be a door somewhere.’

  ‘But we can’t see.’

  ‘Then we will just have to feel our way like we did to find each other.’

  ‘I’m tired.’

  ‘And me.’ I let out a sigh. ‘OK, well, let’s rest for a little bit and then we’ll look for a door.’

  ‘I really want to go to sleep.’

  ‘So do I but we mustn’t let go of holding hands.’

  ‘I won’t.’

  ‘Neither will I.’ It feels so good to have a person close to me who I can touch, even if I can’t see her face and I don’t know what she looks like. ‘Well, we can have a rest and then we’ll start looking.’ The relief of having Zoe near makes me feel so exhausted my eyelids are really heavy.

  ‘I’ve got a ribbon in my hair.’ Zoe tells me. ‘We could tie our hands together, like a dog lead.’

  ‘That’s a really good idea.’ I’m impressed. ‘Take it out and I’ll tie it around our wrists.’

  ‘Good, because I’m not very good at doing knots.’

  ‘That’s OK. I’m really good at them. I can tie my own shoe laces.’

  ‘Even in the dark?’

  ‘Well, I haven’t tried before but doing a knot in the dark is probably OK. Let me try.’

  I feel the silky ribbon between my fingers and wonder what colour it is as I wrap and fasten it around my wrist.

  ‘It’s not very long but I think there is enough to tie us together. Give me your hand.’ She does and I fumble about securing it. ‘Now give it a tug and see if it comes undone.’ We both pull at the same time and the ribbon holds firm. ‘There.’ It’s the first time I’ve felt satisfied since I ended up in this place. ‘Right, now let’s go to sleep.’

  ‘OK. Good night.’ Zoe giggles.

  ‘Sweet dreams. See you in the morning.’ I laugh. ‘That’s what my mum always says.’ And all over again I start to feel sad.

  Libby

  ‘I’m afraid they have had to let him go.’ Kerry can’t meet my eye. ‘There was no physical evidence that tied him to the shoe.
I’m sorry.’

  ‘So we’re back to square one.’ I put my head in my hands.

  ‘Not exactly. We have the shoe.’ Kerry is good at sounding positive even in the direst of situations.

  ‘But you said the shoe can’t prove anything.’ Danny’s voice is hoarse. He is so exhausted.

  ‘It proves that someone put the shoe in that bin. Those bins are taken once a week and the shoe was discovered on top of the rest of the rubbish,’

  ‘Meaning someone put it there recently,’ I interrupt, looking up.

  ‘Exactly.’ She smiles. ‘If Mr Chadrad was not responsible for placing the shoe in the bin then it must be someone else who is local.’

  ‘Maybe someone tried to frame him.’ I look over a Danny who is staring out of the living room window at the rain.

  ‘That is a possibility.’

  ‘So the person who took Hope is trying to throw us off the scent?’

  ‘Anything is possible.’

  ‘But now we’re back to just sitting on our arses waiting for any more news.’

  ‘I know how difficult this must be.’ Kerry turns to Danny.

  ‘Do you? Do you have children, Kerry? Do you know what this is actually like?’

  Kerry blushes and shakes her head. She looks ashamed.

  ‘Well then, please don’t pretend you understand because you don’t.’ He is finding it increasingly difficult to control his reactions, particularly his temper.

  ‘We’re all just so tired.’ I try to explain my husband’s behaviour. ‘The longer this goes on the harder it is to keep believing that she is going to be all right.’ Danny glares at me before walking out of the room.

  ‘Shall I make us a cup of tea?’ Kerry offers, trying to busy herself.

  ‘I don’t want any, thanks. I’ve had enough tea to last me a lifetime.’ I do my best to smile at her. She is only trying to help. ‘Make yourself one, though.’ I wave her off into the kitchen and sit back, alone with my thoughts.

  When Kerry returns, holding a mug of steaming tea, I decide I want to know more about the woman who is so involved in our lives.

  ‘How long have you worked for the police?’ I ask her as she sits down and wraps her hands around the mug.

  ‘Six years as a family liaison officer but I was a sergeant before that.’

  ‘Do you like your job?’ I can’t imagine doing what she does, day in and day out.

  ‘I do.’ She looks at me thoughtfully. ‘It’s not always easy but I know that I have an important role to play. Relatives need a friendly face to turn to in times of stress. I like to think I am easy to talk to.’

  ‘You are.’ I smile at her.

  ‘Thank you.’ She sips the tea.

  ‘Have you been on a case like this before?’

  ‘There was one a few years back that was similar. A child abduction.’ She straightens in her chair and I can see that she would rather not talk about it, but I press her anyway.

  ‘What happened?’ I lean forward.

  ‘A young boy disappeared from his home. His mother called in, frantic and worried sick. His rucksack was missing, as were some of his things. The mother was worried he had run away to visit his father, who’d left the family six months earlier. We sent a car round to interview the father but he wasn’t there. Turns out a neighbour had seen the man with his son getting into a car with a lot of luggage. The father was originally from Turkey, you see. So we contacted the airports and put out a description of the boy and his father.’

  ‘Then what happened?’

  ‘We were too late. The father had boarded a plane with the child at Stansted Airport and they were on their way to Ankara.’

  ‘Could he do that?’

  ‘Legally, he should have consulted the mother but practically, as you can see, it was hard to stop him. The mother was beside herself, as you can imagine.’

  ‘Did she get her son back?’

  ‘The case was passed on to Interpol and a legal battle started.’

  Sitting back in my chair I wonder what became of that child. ‘It’s very different to what we are going through. Have you never had a case like this before?’

  ‘No I haven’t. It is not a common occurrence for children to be taken by strangers.’

  ‘But what if it isn’t a stranger? Like Amit. What if it is someone she knew?’

  ‘That is possible, but until we have any evidence to back that up we are working under the assumption that the abductor is a stranger.’

  ‘But you must be looking into people we know?’

  ‘I can’t share that information with you.’ She shifts awkwardly before taking another sip to buy herself some time. ‘There are a few avenues that are being explored.’

  ‘Like what?’ This is news to me. She knows something but isn’t saying. ‘What do you know?’

  ‘We are examining the possibility that this case might be linked to another abduction.’ The words hit me like a bombshell.

  ‘You mean another child has been taken?’ I feel as if I might pass out.

  ‘Not exactly. There is a cold case we are looking into.’

  ‘I have a right to know what is going on.’

  ‘Until my inspector has confirmed anything I am not at liberty to say.’ Kerry speaks in a half whisper; clearly worried that Danny will storm into the room demanding answers. ‘I promise the moment I hear anything you will be the first to know.’

  OCTOBER 2013

  Libby

  ‘Fine.’ I hang up the phone.

  ‘They won’t give the shoe back no matter what I say.’ I turn to Danny who is sitting on the sofa with his head in his hands.

  It only takes a second for him to pick up a small vase that was a wedding present and hurl it at the wall.

  ‘What was that for?’ My eyes scan over the pieces of smashed porcelain that litter the floor.

  ‘I just feel so fucking useless.’

  Out of the corner of my eye I catch sight of a cobweb high up in the corner of the room.

  I know the eight-legged freaks are waiting for me in their webs hoping to ensnare me. I’ve feared them ever since I was a small child. There is something unnatural about the way they move and the fact that they suck the blood out of their prey. What sort of creature keeps its victim alive for so long while slowly eating it?

  The police have been keeping a close eye on Amit for weeks now. All our friends and neighbours have been investigated. But nothing showed up. It is as if she has just disappeared into thin air.

  Kerry and Inspector King had – after much stalling – sat Danny and me down and confirmed that they were looking into another case from last year, involving a little girl who disappeared from her home. We were told that there were some similarities and at the time of the other child’s disappearance there had been no suspect.

  As the weeks passed the police investigation tailed off. The number of officers on the case was whittled down and Kerry was reassigned. It was as if life for everyone else went back to normal. But we’re in limbo, lost without our little girl.

  Gracie returned home and Danny and I did our best to remain buoyant for her sake. Still she asked daily where her big sister was. We decided to tell her that Hope had gone on holiday but she would be back soon. It was the best we could come up with.

  At the nursery I received pitying looks from the other mothers when I dropped Gracie off. They stopped talking to me and avoided my company. I didn’t blame them. They didn’t know what to say to me. I felt like a leper shut out of normal society.

  ‘Will you be having a birthday party for Grace?’ One of the mothers asked me three days ago.

  ‘We are going to keep it a small family affair.’ I felt myself blushing, knowing I was depriving my youngest daughter. ‘It’s a difficult time for us at the moment.’

  Hayley, an attractive woman with long blonde hair who was always neatly turned out, offered me an understanding look.

  ‘Bless.’ The word annoyed me but I didn’t have time to react
because she had already turned to go and talk to another mother who ran the PTA.

  Danny became obsessed with his search for Hope. He could not focus on anything else. He spent hours on the phone and on his computer, trying to drum up interest to keep the case alive. He refused to give up.

  So I did the only thing that I could and put all my energy into making sure Gracie was happy. I owed it to her to make sure her life wasn’t ruined too.

  As the autumn came round I began to gradually get used to life without Hope. I missed her desperately and I still wanted her back at home, but I stopped expecting to see her sleeping when I went into the bedroom. Despite that, she remained everywhere. Her toys and her clothes were a constant reminder that there was a huge piece of the puzzle missing from our lives.

  I avoided going past Hope’s school. I couldn’t bear the idea that other kids were playing happily in the playground and learning new things when I didn’t know where she was or what had happened to her.

  Her friend’s parents gave us a wide berth, which, although it initially hurt, actually it was a blessing in disguise. I had to be brave for Gracie.

  After a while even the press lost interest in us. Half of me was grateful that they weren’t around but Danny said it meant no one cared anymore and the idea of that was awful.

  The strangest thing about that time was how life had to go on. The house still needed vacuuming, the shopping needed to be done, the ironing refused to be ignored, the bills still needed paying and we had to get out of bed. Daily tasks had to be performed – just like they always had – and the world kept on turning. But everything was different.

  I learnt that the village had boycotted Amit’s shop. People were still suspicious. The Chadrads were ostracised, having once been at the heart of the community. Kids spray-painted the word ‘pervert’ and ‘paedo’ on the walls and windows of the shop. Despite Amit’s best efforts to clean it, faint red lettering still remained. He had been branded and nothing he could do would change that.

  I couldn’t decide how I felt about him. After speaking to Simran I started to doubt his connection but I couldn’t shake the feeling that he was somehow involved. I understood it was ludicrous to think that the person who had taken Hope would be so careless as to dispose of her shoe in their own bin. Never the less, someone had put it there and perhaps that someone was counting on the refuse collection guys not noticing it.

 

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