‘Se-eaaan!’ I scream, turning suddenly and lunging at the door. I thump my fists on it over and over until I’m scared my bones will break. Hair flies across my face, getting caught in my mouth, sticking to my lips as I yell his name over and over.
Then I fall silent, exhausted, terrified of what will happen to me. Someone from down the corridor kicks off in response, shouting obscenities and for me to shut up. A prisoner. Another prisoner. Like me.
I walk slowly back to the bunk and flop down, my head resting flat on the plastic. Using my feet, I pull up the blanket, spreading it over me as best I can. I’m shaking. Freezing. Now they’ll think I’m guilty for sure.
‘I’ve done nothing wrong,’ I whisper, my words caught up in short sharp breaths. I go over what they said would happen to me, trying to remember. That I was going to be questioned, possibly be detained for up to twenty-four hours, that I could have a solicitor if I wanted. I’d just nodded, positioning my feet on the stick-on footprints on the lino floor as they instructed, shaking as I was photographed.
Smile!
I cover my face, trying to block out the fluorescent lights above, but all I can see behind my eyelids is Sasha’s sweet face, that look she used to give me when we were clearing up after a busy night, just wanting to get out, get home, having a laugh about anything and everything as we unloaded my car into the barn kitchen ready to wash all the dirty dishes and pans. After we’d finished, she’d peel off the latex gloves she always wore when working, especially when helping me cook, and I’d give her an envelope of cash, sometimes some leftover food to take home for her mum, before driving her back. I always treated her well.
‘Oh, Sasha…’ I whisper, forcing the tears to come. But none do. My eyes stay dry – unlike when I was in the taxi home after that disastrous meal with Sean at the Old Fox. Where it all began. What I wouldn’t do to be back there again, sitting next to my husband as we bumped along the country lanes, me feeling nauseous, though not from the twisting and winding road, but rather because Sean didn’t say a single word to me all the way home. Even when I reached out and took his hand he withdrew it, folding his arms across his chest and staring out of the window. I’d gone too far.
‘Love,’ I’d said quietly. The taxi driver was vaguely familiar and I didn’t want him knowing all our business. People talk to each other in the villages. ‘Please… Look, I’m sorry.’ There. I’d said it. I’d apologised and was hoping for the same in return. I’d make it up to him somehow – perhaps cook a special meal for us the following evening when Alice was in bed, put some music on, candles, spend the evening talking. Though not about the note. I’d vowed that when I got home, I would rip it up and burn it. Never mention it again. I wanted the damn thing out of my home and out of my life. I wanted things back to normal.
When the taxi pulled up outside our cottage, I heard Sean curse under his breath, half turning to me, giving me a glare. The driver was tapping his fingers on the wheel to some tune or other on the radio. I was hoping Sean would break the silence, even if it was just a perfunctory ‘Have you got the cash?’ but he didn’t. He just got out of the car, his knee almost giving way as he stood up. I heard him gasp; though, as always, he tried to hide the pain.
I rummaged in my bag for my purse. ‘Do you take cards?’ I asked the driver, having spent most of the cash in the pub, wanting to keep some back to pay Sasha. He nodded, taking out his machine. The transaction went through and I slipped a couple of pounds into his hand. ‘Thanks,’ I said, getting out and joining Sean at our front door. We’d only brought one set of keys with us and I had them. It was as I was fishing them out of my handbag that I realised I’d left my scarf in the taxi. I turned to flag the driver down, waving frantically, but he didn’t see, his red tail lights disappearing around the corner at the end of our lane.
‘I’ll have to phone the company tomorrow to get it back,’ I said to Sean. ‘I don’t want to lose it. You gave it to me, remember?’
He didn’t reply, just waited for me to get the key in the lock and the door open. I felt my eyes fill up with tears again, especially as I was going to feel foolish explaining to Sasha why we were back so early. It was only just gone nine. I’d still pay her for the whole evening, of course, and take care of her cab fare home. Even though she only lived a mile or two away in the next village, Little Radwell, there was no way she was walking home alone in the dark.
I opened the door and went into the hall, slipping off my jacket and hanging it on the hooks opposite the front door. Sean went straight past me and on into the kitchen. I heard him running the tap and clattering about as I went through to the living room, wanting to speak to Sasha before Sean did. The television was chattering quietly in the background, the light from it casting a golden flicker around the room.
‘Hi, Sash, we’re back a bit early. How’s Alice been?’ I’d said, spotting her books lying open on the coffee table, a couple on the sofa. But I stopped dead in my tracks…
Outside my cell I hear a noise, as if someone’s about to come in. I sit bolt upright, clutching the blanket to my chest, trying to force my breathing into a steady rhythm instead of the shallow rasping breaths that are coming out of my mouth. But all I end up doing is holding it, waiting for my fate, hoping that, if I’m lucky, I’ll pass out and never wake up.
Eleven
Before
‘Sasha?’ Libby said again, as she glanced around the living room. She froze – aware that the television was still on – an episode of Friends was playing quietly in the background – and that Sasha’s college books were still spread out. But she couldn’t take in what she was seeing. Sasha was… well, she was gone. Her heart thumped, immediately thinking of Alice, that she’d been left with no one to care for her if she’d woken up.
She’d already yelled out her name several times – Sasha! – but there’d been no reply.
Sean came rushing in from the kitchen.
‘Oh Christ,’ he said. ‘Get upstairs now and check on Alice. Hurry!’
‘Yes, yes,’ Libby replied, hardly able to breathe as she dashed up the stairs, her legs weak. She paused for a second on the landing, her nails digging into the banister rail as she gathered herself, hardly daring to go in. When she slowly opened Alice’s bedroom door, spilling soft light across the room, Libby saw her daughter curled up on her side soundly asleep, breathing softly. Her furry dog was tucked under her chin. She sighed out in relief, shaking, stifling a cry as her eyes drank in her beautiful daughter.
Libby pulled the door shut again and peeked into her own room to check if Sasha had been in there to borrow something, or, maybe, to use her en-suite bathroom. Right now, she didn’t know what to think. But everything looked undisturbed. When she went down to the kitchen, it was empty, as was the back hall and toilet, with both sets of lights off.
‘Alice is fine, thank God,’ Libby said, still shaking. Sean was sitting on the arm of the sofa, surrounded by Sasha’s belongings. ‘What the hell do we do now?’ she added, fighting back the tears as her arms hung limply by her sides.
Sean’s eyes locked onto hers, his head shaking slowly, accusingly, as if he was trying to convey something to her. ‘What do you mean by that?’ He had the TV remote control in his hand, tapping it repeatedly against his other palm. She could tell his mind was whirring.
‘She… she’s gone, Sean.’
‘Well that’s bloody obvious,’ Sean spat back, making Libby flinch. She knew there was a deeper meaning, that right now he must hate every fibre of her being. ‘Let’s think about this carefully,’ he said, sighing out. ‘She must be somewhere, right?’ he added, looking at her intently as he stood up. Libby hated that he sounded so cold and accusing, as if it were all somehow her fault – though she knew, deep down, that it was – but she also knew that he was in control, as always, and that he would make everything better. At this moment, dealing with Sasha and whatever had happened was more important than anything else going on between them.
‘Maybe she�
��d gone out to the barn kitchen and something happened,’ Libby suggested, knowing it wasn’t helpful. Sasha had no reason to go out there. But when Sean gave her a slow nod, she knew what to do, that she still needed to check. She headed back through the kitchen, grabbing the key off the hook in the rear hall and crossing the cobbled yard, lit only by the light coming from the kitchen windows.
But the barn was deserted and there was no sign of Sasha.
‘Sash?’ she called out as she headed back to the house. ‘Are you out here?’
Silence, apart from a couple of cars cruising slowly along the lane and an owl hooting in the field behind. Libby covered her face briefly, before finding some strength and going back inside.
Sean was in the kitchen again, his face ashen. He took her by the shoulders, gave her that look again. She knew what it meant. ‘I don’t understand,’ he said, his voice on a precipice. ‘I just don’t understand…’
‘No…’ Libby said, shaking her head, holding his gaze, feeling as if she was in a trance. She was shaking. ‘It’s not like her. Just not like her at all to be so stupid.’
‘We need to think about this. You should give her a call.’
Libby nodded furiously, knowing he was right, and also relieved that he was speaking to her again, albeit only because of the situation they were now in. She fetched her phone and dialled Sasha’s number but, a moment later, they heard a phone ringing in their living room. When they went back in, Sasha’s phone was on the coffee table, glowing and vibrating with ‘Libby’ displayed on the screen.
‘Great,’ Sean said, picking it up. He put it straight back down again in exactly the same place. ‘At least we tried.’
‘Tried?’ Libby said, trying to stay calm, though her voice was wavering. ‘Thing is, she’s usually glued to the thing. If she’d gone off somewhere, she’d have taken it with her. Especially since…’ She trailed off, not wanting to betray Sasha’s confidence. She’d told Libby about the troubles between her and Matt, her boyfriend – how, since things had broken down between her mum and dad, she wondered if she’d ever be able to trust a boy. Libby had listened to her, consoled her, and while she desperately wanted to tell her that in ten, maybe twenty years’ time she’d look back on her first relationship fondly, but with a little roll of her eyes, she didn’t. Sasha wouldn’t believe her anyway. Libby knew that Matt hadn’t exactly been kind to her lately, ignoring her calls, breaking dates at the last minute. Not a great boyfriend by all accounts.
‘Since what?’ Sean said, pacing about. He peered out of the front window.
Libby shook her head. ‘It’s nothing. Just something she said. Not relevant.’ Libby went to the bottom of the stairs again, listening. The last thing she needed was Alice waking up. She returned, shaking, wishing tonight had never happened. ‘What do we do now?’
Sean sat down again, but in the armchair by the fire, not on the sofa where Sasha had been studying. He leant forward, elbows on knees, tapping his fingers together, glancing at his watch. ‘Let me think, for Christ’s sake, Libby. I’m in shock, plus anything could have happened to Alice left alone.’
‘I know… I know… But what about Sasha?’ Libby said. To Sean, the girl was just their babysitter, but Libby had grown fond of her over the last year or so. And she trusted her with Alice one hundred per cent.
‘It’s not our fault,’ he said, suddenly standing up. ‘Whatever has happened to her,’ he added as an afterthought.
Libby felt her cheeks colour. ‘She didn’t do much college work tonight, look,’ she said, pointing at her books. ‘She’s only got through a few of these maths problems.’
‘Good point,’ Sean said, mulling over possibilities. ‘What if a friend had called round earlier and she went off with them? If she’s not here, that seems a likely explanation.’
Then Matt was on Libby’s mind again, and so was that time Sasha had turned up for work with streaks of mascara on her cheeks. She’d pretended she had something in her eye but later confessed it was because Matt had hung up on her, that he didn’t think they could keep seeing each other. Libby knew how much Sasha adored him. They’d been seeing each other since school.
‘I suppose. But she’s not irresponsible. She wouldn’t just leave Alice alone, even for a few minutes. It’s not right, Sean.’
‘No, it’s not right,’ he said, dragging his hands down his face. ‘It’s not right at all.’
* * *
The couple sat waiting, wishing that Sasha would burst into the living room at any moment, full of excuses, embarrassed by whatever had happened, that Alice wasn’t being cared for. Unspoken tension hung between them, growing ever bigger as the minutes passed. And Sasha didn’t come bursting in from anywhere.
To pass the time, until they figured out a plan, Sean stoked the fire, chucking on a couple of logs, while Libby went to the kitchen to make tea. When she placed the mug in front of Sean, he ignored it and went to the drinks cabinet in the corner to pour himself a whisky.
‘Want one?’ he said, holding up a glass. Libby shook her head, staring at the flames.
‘I’m going to check on Alice again,’ she said, standing, unable to settle for more than a few minutes.
‘No, you already know she’s fine. Just let me think, for Christ’s sake.’
Libby sighed, keeping her gaze fixed on Sean. ‘What if one of us goes out to look around the village,’ Libby said. ‘Would that help? At least we’d be doing something rather than just sitting here fretting.’
Sean frowned, glancing at his watch. ‘We probably should. It’s been a while since we got back.’
Libby hung her head. What she wouldn’t give for Sasha to just walk in the front door all bright-eyed and apologetic.
‘I’ll have a drive around,’ Sean said, knocking back his whisky, glaring at Libby.
‘You can’t go, you’ve been drinking. I’ve had less, so I’ll do it.’
It wasn’t entirely true that she’d had less alcohol, though the implications of Sean losing his licence were way worse than for her. Surely she’d be fine for a slow loop around the village? She’d take it steady, and it had to be done. Anyone would.
‘Be careful, OK?’ Sean said, taking her by the shoulders as she was getting her coat on. ‘Have you got your phone?’
‘Yeah,’ Libby said, feeling a wash of relief at his touch, even though his hands were shaking. ‘I won’t be long. I’ll go up Hunter’s Lane and around that way. Let me know what happens here.’
‘Of course,’ Sean said, kissing her head. ‘Everything will be OK, right?’
Libby held his gaze for a moment, smelling the whisky on his breath, before nodding and heading out to her car. It didn’t feel as if everything would be OK at all.
Twelve
Libby struggled to put the key in the ignition. She started the VW and reversed around in the tight space of the courtyard, watching the front wing as she manoeuvred behind Sean’s four-wheel drive.
‘It must be my fault,’ she whispered over and over as she pulled out onto the lane, turning on the fan as her window misted up. ‘If I hadn’t gone on and on about the note then we’d never have gone for a meal to make up and… and…’ She let out a little sob, but then forced herself to get a grip. She couldn’t lose it now. She shivered at the thought of Sasha. It was a cold night and she hated the idea of her being out in it. She simply couldn’t understand what had happened. It just wasn’t like her to do something so silly. She was always so sensible and careful. She played out the situation in her mind as she headed up the lane, trying, too, to convince herself that it wasn’t her fault, knowing that they’d have to call someone soon – her mother, her father, perhaps Matt.
She couldn’t quite bring herself to say the police.
Libby followed Hunter’s Lane around the village, driving cautiously, until it merged with Drover’s Way. She kept to second gear, sometimes first as she edged between parked cars on either side of the narrow road. Stone cottages with low thatch brows flanked
either side of the lane, looking as if they’d huddled up for the night. So far she’d not seen anyone out and about as she peered out each side of the car but, up ahead, she thought she saw a figure standing, perhaps with a dog on a lead. She drew up slowly, lowering the window. It was Eric, who lived a few doors down from them. He had Maisy, his spaniel, on a lead and was clearing up after her, slowly bending down. Even at eighty-two, he didn’t let minor ailments stop him.
‘Hi, Eric,’ Libby said out of the window as the car idled. ‘How are you?’ She hated that her voice shook.
Eric turned, his hand in the small of his back. When he saw it was Libby, a broad smile broke out on his weathered face. Tufts of white-grey hair poked out from beneath his cap. ‘Libby, m’dear,’ he said in that way of his. He held up the plastic bag, chuckling. ‘You caught me getting my hands dirty,’ he said, coughing as he laughed.
‘You haven’t seen a young girl around, have you?’ Libby asked, unsure if he knew Sasha. ‘Sasha Long from over in Little Radwell,’ she added when Eric frowned. ‘Phil and Jan’s daughter. She has blond hair down to here, is about my height, a pretty girl. She’s seventeen.’
Eric made a rasping noise, followed by his trademark laugh again. ‘Ah yes, Phil’s lass,’ he said, coughing and nodding. ‘But it’s been a while since I went looking for a young lady, I’ll have you know.’ His arm extended as Maisy strained on her leash. But then his expression turned serious when he saw how worried Libby looked. ‘Nothing wrong, is there?’
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