Frailty: a haunting psychological page-turner

by Betsy Reavley

  The silly thing was that I wanted the shoe back. It was part of Hope and I wanted to be able to hold it but the police refused to pass it over. It was bagged as evidence and shoved into a box somewhere. The thought of that nearly killed me. How could something so precious be locked away?

  On that Friday morning I went into the office to wake Danny, who had fallen asleep at the desk having worked too late and drunk too much whisky.

  ‘Just go up to bed for a bit.’ I placed the coffee down beside him. ‘I’m going to take Gracie to the swings for a while. Get some sleep. This will help you to sober up.’

  ‘I’m not drunk.’ He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and took a large gulp of coffee. ‘Stop giving me a hard time.’

  ‘You’re like a bear with a sore head. Just go to bed. I’ll see you later.’ As I left the room I heard him cursing under his breath.

  In the sitting room Gracie was watching cartoons and shoving a banana into her mouth.

  ‘Finish your breakfast and then we’ll go to the playground.’

  ‘Yes!’ Gracie squeaked with her mouth full. I smiled at my youngest child and tried not to wish it were Hope who was smiling back at me.

  ‘Mummy’s going to have her coffee and then we’ll get ready, OK?’

  ‘OK, Mama.’ Gracie’s eyes are back glued to bright flashing images on the TV.

  Once in the kitchen I go over to the calendar and picked up a black marker pen. I put a large cross over the day’s date. It had been exactly twelve weeks since we last saw Hope. In some ways those weeks had gone by painfully slowly; in others they had passed in a flash.

  I couldn’t believe I had missed twelve weeks of her life already. How much had she grown? Had she changed in other ways? Perhaps she’d lost another tooth. The thought of not knowing was unbearable.

  Walking over to the doorframe I stroked the spot on the wood where we had marked her last measurement with a pencil. It seemed as if she was still here but she wasn’t. Choking back the tears I sat down at the kitchen table. I felt utterly alone. I’d lost Hope and now I was losing Danny.

  We stopped communicating some time ago. We merely co-existed in the same space. He was a stranger to me when he drank and his drinking had become a real problem. In some ways it was worse for him. He blamed himself for not protecting her the way a father should.

  I didn’t blame him, but that made no difference to how he felt. As the man of the house he’d seen it as his duty to look after us all and he believed he’d failed. Danny couldn’t get over the idea that he might have been sitting in the pub having a beer with a friend when Hope was taken. The irony was that in order to escape that guilt he dived into a bottle looking for answers.

  Luckily Gracie was still young enough not to really understand what was happening when her father was drunk but she became wary of him when he stumbled out of the office to help himself to another beer or a whisky.

  Dr Vogler came and visited Danny at my request. I ushered him into the living room and offered him a cup of tea. He sat with a stiff back and politely declined.

  ‘Please tell me what I can do, Libby.’ His kind hazel eyes peered through his glasses.

  ‘I’m at my wits end. He’s drunk all the time. It’s scaring Gracie.’

  The doctor sat back and rubbed his chin for a moment.

  ‘What would you like me to do?’

  ‘I don’t know. Talk to him. I think he needs help.’

  ‘You cannot force an addict to accept help if they don’t want it.’

  ‘I know, but maybe,’ I let out a long sigh, ‘maybe he needs some medication.’

  ‘To stop the drinking?’

  ‘No, to help him deal with what’s happening. Something to help him sleep so he doesn’t have to get quite so drunk. And he’s depressed. I mean, of course he is. He blames himself.’

  Marcus nodded and leant forward. ‘And how are you?’

  ‘I don’t know.’ I shrugged, not knowing how to answer the question. ‘I’m alive. That’s all I can tell you.’

  ‘I cannot imagine what you and your husband must be going through.’ Marcus’ eyes brimmed with tears. ‘It is the worst thing that could ever happen to a family. I am so, so sorry for you all.’

  ‘It’s not knowing.’ Looking down at the cuff of my blue jumper I picked at a small hole. Marcus nodded and composed himself.

  ‘Right. I will have a word with Danny. I’m sure we can give him something to help in the short term.’ He got up from the sofa and straightened his brown trousers. ‘I would also suggest that you consider taking a low dose of an antidepressant. Just to get you through day to day.’

  ‘If you think it will help.’ I got up and faced him.

  ‘I think you all need as much help as you can get at the moment.’

  I managed a small smile and took his hand, shaking it. ‘Thank you.’

  ‘I’ll have a prescription waiting for you this afternoon. In the meantime, get Danny to make an appointment.’

  ‘I’ll do my best.’

  NOVEMBER 2013

  Libby

  There is a buzz about Christmas in the air. In the shops and on the television, it seems to be the only thing people think about; it’s not like that for me. We have to face our first Christmas without Hope. I don’t want to celebrate. I dread the idea of not watching her open her stocking on Christmas morning. But we have to keep going for Gracie. She shouldn’t have to suffer any more than she already has. Every time I am reminded of the impending festivities I do my best to find a distraction. Christmas very quickly becomes a dirty word in our house.

  After talking to Dr Vogler, Danny decided to tackle his growing issue with drink. We sat down and talked it through and came to the conclusion that he needed some time away to get his head in order. So at the beginning of November Danny packed a bag and went to stay with his friend in Scotland for a week.

  Simon Perry, who had been best man at our wedding, lives in Edinburgh with his girlfriend. He’s a stage actor who writes plays to subsidise his income. He was at school with Danny and the pair have been great friends ever since. They don’t see each other as much as they would like – living at opposite ends of the UK doesn’t help – but they get together when they can and each knows they can rely on the other.

  I used to be slightly envious of their friendship. I don’t have any old friends from my childhood. Most of my friendships fizzled out since I’m not very good at keeping in touch or making the effort. There are a few people from my past I wish I still had in my life but too much time has gone by.

  Life is funny like that. People who you think you will remain friends with sometimes just fall by the wayside. Your lives take different directions, someone gets married to a person you don’t particularly like, careers take off and suddenly you realise you don’t have anything in common any more. I could have done with more friends around me especially since my family were no real use.

  Thankfully Danny’s parents are wonderful. They come up once a week and take Gracie out for the day. I think it helps them to be near us. They were understandably nervous that they might be left out of any developments and I think they had decided that helping gave them more of a role, as if they needed one, and therefore more control.

  Apart from family members, people have stopped mentioning Hope. Everyone knows that the case has all but been closed and there is no news. Everything has changed for us but for everyone on the outside, their lives have remained the same. Apart from Amit and Simran, who have been forced to close the shop after it was boycotted by the locals, everybody else seems to go about their normal business as if nothing has changed. I suppose for them it hasn’t. A little girl has gone missing, nothing more.

  One day it was news but now, months later, it is a distant memory. No one likes the fact the case remained unsolved and it probably scares them to think that the person responsible is still wandering around. If it makes them feel uncomfortable, you can imagine how I feel.

  Every day is lik
e living a bad dream. At some point – it happened gradually, I think – the bad dream stopped seeming so foreign and became typical. The ache in the pit of my stomach is always there and has become a part of me. It guides my decisions and influences the way I live my life.

  The moment Gracie is out of sight I become a nervous wreck. In the end, after much deliberation, I decided I couldn’t stand sending her to nursery any more so pulled her out. Not wanting her to miss out on the important social interactions I have found groups that we could go to together in Cambridge. There are weekly mother and child exercise classes, which I hate, but Gracie enjoys.

  It is good being away from the village. It had started to feel claustrophobic, being there surrounded by familiar faces who all know the ins and outs of our plight. In Cambridge we can blend into the background. I didn’t know any of the mothers in the groups and they didn’t know me. I even used a different name when I joined, just to avoid any awkward questions.

  Our pictures and Hope’s were everywhere, so it’s likely we are recognised but because they don’t know for sure, people feel less entitled to approach us and ask. No one with an ounce of common sense would approach a stranger and ask ‘Are you the mother of that missing girl?’

  Occasionally I’m aware of looks from other parents. Some are filled with pity, others curiosity.

  But on that cold wet Thursday morning I realised I wasn’t hidden at all.

  Danny, an avid newspaper reader even before Hope was taken, always had the newspaper delivered to our house in the morning. Since she had disappeared he made sure he got a copy of every paper delivered to the house. He would retrieve the post, make himself some toast and coffee and then go into the office, with the paper, to comb through the pages looking for any mention of her.

  That week was different. He wasn’t there to collect his papers. On that morning I picked the papers from the doormat and glanced at the front page of the tabloid on the top of the pile. To my horror, there was a picture of Danny walking along a street, with his arm around another woman.

  DESPERATE DAN LEAVES LIB IN THE LURCH

  Cursing and dropping the paper I dash up the stairs past Gracie, who is munching on an apple while rolling out some Play-Doh, to get my mobile.

  Shaking slightly, I ring Danny.

  ‘Hello.’ He sounds groggy and I realise it is well before eight o’clock.

  ‘What the fuck do you think you’re playing at?’

  ‘Lib?’ I can hear the sleep in his voice.

  ‘Have you seen the papers this morning?’

  ‘No. I’ve just woken up. What’s wrong?’

  ‘You. You’re what’s wrong.’

  ‘Look. Calm the fuck down and tell me what’s going on.’ He is not happy to have been woken up like this.

  ‘The Mirror. There’s a picture of you on the front page.’

  ‘Doing what?’

  ‘With your arm around bloody Lara!’

  ‘What?’ he sounds more awake now.

  ‘They are making out you’re having an affair. Suggesting you’ve left me.’

  ‘But I haven’t.’

  ‘I know that!’ I yell down the phone. ‘But they don’t.’

  ‘Who cares what they think. It’s libel. We can get them to retract the story. They’ll have to apologise.’ I can hear the cogs in his mind turning.

  ‘That’s not the point,’ I growl.

  ‘I’m sorry, Lib, but I don’t know why you’re quite so upset about this. It’s just a bullshit tabloid story.’

  ‘But it makes us look as if we don’t care about her any more. If people think we’ve given up looking–’ I crumple onto the bed, unable to continue.

  ‘Lib?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘I’m coming home. Enough is enough.’

  Hope

  ‘Zoe, are you awake?’ I shake her arm gently because I don’t like the silence but she doesn’t answer. ‘Zoe? Come on.’

  I hear a long sigh and feel so relieved. For a moment I thought maybe she was dead and the thought of being trapped in the dark with a dead person really scared me.

  ‘Hope.’ She speaks in a half whisper and I worry that she isn’t very well.

  ‘It’s OK. I’m here.’ I try to soothe her the way my mum would if she was here.

  ‘I can’t stay here anymore.’ Zoe’s voice is faint.

  ‘We have to. Just a little while longer and then someone will find us and get us out.’

  ‘I don’t think anyone is coming.’ She sounds too sad to even cry.

  ‘They will. I know they will.’ I have to believe that. I have to. ‘Someone will find us. You’ll see.’

  We sit in the pitch-black silence for a while lost in our own thoughts. I know Zoe is not very happy at the moment and I try really hard not to let it rub off on me. We need to stay happy. That’s what mum would say. And I’m trying, I really am but it just feels like we have been in here for so long. Because we can’t see anything it’s hard to tell what the world is like outside. I don’t know if it’s summer or winter. There is no time in this place. We might have been here for a few days or a few years. I can’t tell and that is what scares me the most. We are so hidden, wherever we are, that maybe Zoe is right and we will never be found.

  I remember once sneaking onto the landing when Mum and Dad were watching a film about a man who had been buried alive. It was naughty because I should have been in bed asleep but it was hot so I crept out to see what my parents were doing. I watched the film without them knowing. It was really bad. This man was buried in a coffin, in the desert, with only a lighter and a mobile phone. He kept trying to get help but no one knew where to find him. A bit like Zoe and me.

  Then I start to wonder where we are again. Since I can’t see anything it’s hard to tell. There is a smell in here and I keep trying to work out what it is but I can’t put my finger on it. It smells a bit like mushrooms. I hate mushrooms.

  I remember going for a walk in the woods near our house, with mum and dad and Gracie, and in the woods an old tree had fallen over and on it was this large mushroom thingy. It looked like a bit like an alien. It was sort of grey-brown and fat like a football with curly edges. Dad and me went near to it to smell it. It smells like rotten wood and mud and Dad said that’s because that’s what it grows from. And that gets me thinking that maybe we are in the mud somewhere. A bit like that man in that film, stuck underground. I don’t like thinking about it but if I can work out where I am then maybe I can get us out of this place.

  ‘Zoe?’ I whisper her name in case she is asleep. She doesn’t respond so I unhook my arm from hers and turn in the darkness, with my arm outstretched, trying to find the edge of our prison. Then my hand meets a damp rough surface and I want to move away but I know I have to be brave.

  I feel the wall, or whatever it is, for a while trying to find a space I can get my fingers into so that I can dig. When I watched that film I remember thinking he should have dug himself out and I decide that maybe I can do that now. All I need to do is find a gap to get started. I think about waking Zoe up to get her to help but she sounds poorly so I think I should let her sleep. She’s giving up and I must not let that happen to me, so I will have to do this by myself.

  I don’t know how long I feel around the edge of this place. My fingers search the surface trying to find gap in it. I don’t even know what the surface is made of but I start to think maybe it is damp wood because I keep thinking about that tree with the big mushroom fungus thing growing on it. And I know that if it is damp wood then I might be able to get through it somehow if I can just find a crumbly piece or a crack.

  That is what I am going to concentrate on from now on. I’m not going to sit on the floor and wait any more. I’m going to keep going until I get us out of this place. I’m going to be brave like Princess Leia in Star Wars. She’s really cool. She doesn’t get frightened and always helps save everyone. So that’s who I’m going to be and Zoe can be R2D2 if she wants.

  It would b
e helpful if I had the force, like Luke, but it doesn’t matter. I’m Princess Leia and I am smart and pretty and brave and we will beat the bad guy and get out of this dark, damp hole.

  DECEMBER 2013

  Libby

  Danny has been back at home for over a week now. As he predicted the stupid story in the paper melted away from the spotlight. We became old news and it was a relief. Except that I wanted us and Hope to remain in the limelight. If people forget about her then the search will fizzle out. If it means Danny and I have to be smeared by the tabloid press, then so be it. I would do anything to find her and I will put up with any abuse that comes my way.

  Since returning from Edinburgh Danny has been unusually quiet. He is not a loud man by any means but he seems distant and distracted, as if his mind is elsewhere. It crossed my mind, only for a second, that perhaps there had been something between him and Simon’s girlfriend. But I’d met Lara, a nice woman who is a vet, and I knew that was very unlikely. None the less, something is preying on his mind. I probe him a few times, trying to get him to open up but it is useless. His shutters have come down and I am left alone on the outside.

  Bothered by his change of mood I do the only thing I can, which is to shut up until he is ready to talk. No amount of bugging him will get me anywhere. He is a stubborn man and the harder I press the more likely he is to retreat into his shell. It frustrates me beyond belief but I have no choice in the matter.

  As before, I throw myself into focusing on Gracie. She is wetting the bed almost every night, something she’s not done since she was two. It is obvious that the atmosphere in the house is taking its toll on her. Poor little thing doesn’t understand why Mummy and Daddy are so stressed and sad. She’s stopped mentioning Hope’s name, having come to the conclusion that whenever she did it upset someone. I know she longs to have her big sister back and she can’t understand why Hope isn’t there. She’d ask us a lot in the early days when Hope was coming home but Danny and I couldn’t answer her. We didn’t know how to respond. We didn’t have any answers.