by Louise Stone
‘I’ve never pushed you on it before now and, I don’t know for sure, but I think you’re holding back on me. What did you and Bethany used to get up to?’
‘Not much,’ I lied.
‘Sophie, I don’t think you’re being honest with me. Please.’
‘We just went out, you know, to parties.’
‘Were you at one of these parties that the rest of us were never invited to the night she killed herself?’
‘She was murdered.’ I clenched my jaw.
‘So you keep saying, but she killed herself, Sophie. Do you really believe that after all these years?’ His voice broke. ‘You admitted yourself to the Priory. I visited you every Sunday, do you remember that?’ He looked up, his eyes swimming. ‘You often went out with Paul, when you were feeling strong, but we didn’t go out. You didn’t want to leave the Priory with me.’ He patted the duvet. ‘Paul clearly always had something I didn’t.’
The memories were too painful, too raw. ‘He just seemed to understand.’
‘And I didn’t?’
‘You were like the rest of them. Telling me it was the trauma. That I had imagined it.’
‘And Paul?’
‘He seemed in control and I needed that, he just seemed to get it.’
‘So he agreed with you, about Bethany?’
‘No,’ I shook my head, my voice quiet, ‘the opposite. He was more sure than anyone that Bethany had committed suicide, but the way he told me …’ I searched for the words. ‘It’s hard to explain but I felt safe.’ I smiled through my tears. ‘Which is ironic.’
‘When I visited you, we never spoke. We would just sit there and hold hands.’
I didn’t say anything.
‘God, woman.’ He choked back a sob. ‘I wish you would talk to me. It’s like there’s a wall between us.’
I stifled a moan with my hand.
‘I’m sorry.’ He stood. ‘You’re probably right, you don’t really need me. You never have.’
I knew he didn’t mean this but I couldn’t face it now. The problem was Oliver was sweet and caring, but he was as easily swayed by institution as the rest of them. The doctors in the Priory, all those years ago, had called me delusional; I was suffering from anxiety attacks and carrying guilt over my friend killing herself. I tried to tell Doctor Hurst, my consultant, but he too refused to listen and chose to side with his colleagues. He said that, if I had woken up in my own bed, it was highly unlikely, if not impossible, that I was there when Bethany died and as the police had confirmed suicide, that’s all there was to it.
I was about to get up when the doorbell rang.
‘Who on earth?’ I shot up in bed, my stomach roiling with nerves. My first thought was that they had found Amy. I threw back the cover, quickly realising that they would have rung me. If there was an officer at the door, it could only mean that the news was bad. Even, fatal. Blood rushed in my ears.
‘Wait here,’ Oliver shouted from the stairs. ‘It’s safer if I go.’
The floorboards creaked as he made his way back down the remaining stairs. It was barely a minute before Oliver returned.
I braced myself, daring not breathe as I watched his face crumple. He couldn’t bring himself to speak.
‘Oh god, she’s dead, isn’t she?’
‘No. No news.’ Oliver sat down quickly and took me in his arms. ‘Fiona is downstairs. She needs you to come to the station with her.’
I swung my legs off the bed and put on the same jeans and sweater as yesterday. They sat in a heap on the floor where I’d left them. I turned to him at the door. ‘I’m …’
‘Yes?’
‘I’m …’ I rapped the doorjamb. ‘Never mind.’
I left, not sure of why Oliver was back in my life. He must have known that history couldn’t be rewritten.
CHAPTER 8
DI Ward had got hold of CCTV footage of the street corner that faced Acton Green.
‘I’ve been trawling this,’ she said, the images running behind her. ‘The whole of Saturday.’ She looked worn.
I watched people heading to and from the Green, toward Acton Green Tube and some heading back up toward Acton. It was strange to see people going about their business, probably totally unaware they were being watched.
‘I had just about given up,’ she continued, grabbing a rancid-looking coffee and drinking deeply, ‘and then I saw this.’ Her voice was cool and she barely made eye contact.
She paused the image.
I leant in toward the screen, not really sure what I was looking at.
‘There. Is that the woman you were talking about?’
I stared hard at the grainy image and as DI Ward zoomed in, I shot bolt upright, my legs starting to tremble. ‘Yes, I think that’s her.’ It was hard to be sure, the image was so fuzzy, but her outline now looked so familiar.
‘Unfortunately, I haven’t found any footage of her face but it seemed to match the description you gave me.’ She glanced down at her notes; my statement. ‘A woman, five foot seven-ish inches, black coat.’ She tapped the screen. ‘I haven’t seen Paul and Amy, though.’ She glanced at me.
‘Yes, but you haven’t seen me either?’ I challenged.
‘No.’
‘Well, you know I was there so that doesn’t prove Paul is telling the truth.’ My breathing had quickened. ‘Can you zoom in a bit more?’
‘It wouldn’t make much difference. I mean this is sadly not much to go on but at least we have a positive sighting. And you’re sure this is the woman you saw talking to Amy?’
‘Yes.’ I was sure because the same sickly dread washed over me.
‘OK, well I’ll keep looking. Get one of the PCs to scan the day before and after too.’ She nodded, rubbed her eyes with her forefinger and thumb. ‘Any more thoughts on the therapy? We need you to help us here.’
I shook my head. ‘I told you I’m not going down that route. You just push Paul on why he’s lying.’
She gave a nod. ‘Fine.’
‘Are you pushing him?’
‘We’re doing everything we can.’ She stood up. ‘Though, I’m not sure you’re doing everything you can.’
I left the police station feeling like time was running away like sand in a timer, yet nothing had changed. As I emerged on the steps I looked up and down the road. I felt like someone was watching me. Perhaps exhaustion was taking its toll and, with it, I was becoming increasingly paranoid. But a sixth sense told me I wasn’t. I looked up and down the street, my gaze searching the buildings, the passers-by. As I scanned the road, my eyes caught a movement in one of the windows above me and my eyes came to rest on the second floor of the police station.
DI Ward stood in the window watching me. My breath caught and, seconds later, the detective moved away. Her belief in me was ebbing away; sadly my own belief in what I thought to be true was ebbing too.
CHAPTER 9
Once outside, I phoned the one person who would understand. It took me a few seconds to find her number in the back of my Filofax; DI Ward had taken my phone off me so they could check out details on the call. I didn’t think their forensics would stop at that. I had found the brick-like Pay-As-You-Go I kept in the kitchen drawer, for emergencies. As I waited for her to pick up, I realised that in not telling Faye, the person most like a mother to me, I had been pretending that none of this was happening. It was easier to believe that I would wake up from this nightmare if I didn’t admit to being scared to anyone.
Now, it was time to face reality.
‘Faye? Oh, thank god. You’re at home.’
‘Sophie. What is it? You sound awful.’ Faye’s soft Irish lilt threatened to crumble my resolve as I walked hurriedly down the police station steps. I didn’t want the detective to see me break. She might read it as yet another sign of guilt. ‘It’s just gone 9 am. Of course I’m in. What on earth is the matter?’
I filled Faye in on the last twenty-four hours.
‘Oh, Sophie …’ Her voice trailed off.
‘I wish you had rung me sooner.’
‘You and me both,’ I agreed as a wave of exhaustion swept through my body. ‘Faye,’ I nibbled at my lower lip, ‘I need to find my little girl. It’s my job to protect her and I … And I failed her.’
‘Shhh, Sophie. It’s all right,’ she soothed gently down the phone. ‘You have not failed her.’
‘I thought life was about to change, you know?’ I sniffled. ‘I got cross with her. Just before she went missing. Now, I just wish I hadn’t snapped.’
‘Sophie, stop beating yourself up. You weren’t to know.’
I started to walk. The cool air on my face felt good after the stuffiness of the interview room. I wasn’t entirely sure where I was heading but I needed some space.
‘Tell me what you think,’ Faye said. ‘Do you think Paul knows where she is?’
‘How else would it explain the lies?’ I said, turning into York House Gardens. A young girl of about Amy’s age ran past squealing with delight as her mother pretended to chase her at full speed. She wore a Brownies uniform and her pigtails bounced up and down on her shoulders.
‘Careful not to get your uniform mucky,’ I heard the mother shout after the girl.
‘It does appear Paul isn’t to be trusted,’ Faye continued. ‘But would he do this? Really? Kidnap Amy?’
‘At first, I thought it was impossible but the longer he spins these lies, I’m beginning to realise I might have never known what he was capable of.’
I told her about the phone call at the fair; the anniversary of Bethany’s death.
‘You know that night?’ She had never been able to bring herself to say the words.
‘Yes.’
Faye didn’t speak.
‘Faye?’
I knew she was finding this difficult. ‘That Doctor Hurst said it was safe to say you weren’t there, that you were suffering from anxiety-related blackouts. That finding out your best friend had, you know, years after your parents … Well, you thought you had been there.’
‘But the thing is, Faye, this woman seemed so familiar. I swear she was there that night.’
‘Sophie, darling, Bethany was never found. It was suicide, that’s what they said.’
I could feel my frustration mounting. ‘Yes, that’s what everyone said, but maybe it’s a cover-up.’ I cried uncontrollably now. ‘Maybe I’m not bloody mad, maybe I was there with Bethany and maybe this woman was there.’
I told her about the photos.
‘Look, no matter what anyone thinks about Bethany’s death, there are facts glaring us all in the face. Bethany died twenty years ago, on my birthday. Twenty years later Amy disappears. I receive a call, I receive photos. This is someone who wants to hurt me, or wants me dead.’ My voice cracked. ‘Or Amy dead.’
Faye gasped. ‘Don’t talk like that, Sophie. There will be some innocent explanation.’
I couldn’t do this any more. The light-headedness had returned and I stumbled forward a couple of steps and, without warning, my legs collapsed beneath me and I fell onto my knees. The sound of the little girl still squealing grew achingly louder.
What I presumed was seconds later, I came around and found the mother of the girl gazing at me with concern. ‘Are you OK?’ she asked, her hand resting on mine. ‘Shall I call an ambulance?’
I shook my head and focused on breathing deeply. ‘Would you mind just helping me to a bench? I think I’m just feeling a bit faint.’
‘Of course not,’ the woman said and I gathered my phone off the pavement before being gently steered to the nearest seat. The girl hid behind her mother’s leg.
‘Are you sure I shouldn’t call someone for you?’
I shook my head and smiled gratefully; the dizziness had started to pass. ‘No, you’ve been very kind, thank you.’
‘OK, if you’re sure you’re all right?’
I nodded. ‘Just been very tired recently.’
Her eyebrows furrowed and then relaxed. She smiled. ‘Come on, you,’ she said to the girl. ‘Let’s do your laces up. We’re going to be late.’
The girl sat down and looked up at me. She smiled goofily and offered me a gummy bear from her pocket. It was covered in grains of sand.
‘I’m sure the lady doesn’t want that, Melissa.’ The mother smiled apologetically.
I took the sweet and smiled at the girl. ‘Thank you, that’s very kind. My favourite colour too.’ It took everything in my power not to hug her and hold her tightly against me. She was a younger version of Amy and, as she busied herself with the badges covering her sash, my heart swelled with longing. I wanted my little girl back. Holding the sticky sweet in my palm, I was reminded of prising open Amy’s small hand less than twenty-four hours ago and watching the lolly fall to the ground.
After a few minutes, the girl jumped off the bench and waved goodbye.
‘Take care of yourself,’ the woman said over her shoulder.
I thanked her again before I realised my phone was ringing.
‘Hello?’ I answered quietly.
‘Sophie, are you all right?’ Faye sniffed; I knew she was trying to hold herself together for my sake.
‘I’m fine,’ I lied. ‘Just lost signal.’
Faye’s pregnant pause told me she knew I was lying.
‘Sophie, I’m worried about you.’ She added, ‘If you need me I’m always here for you.’ She hesitated and I could sense she was trying not to cry. ‘Please let me know if there’s anything I can do. Your parents would be so worried.’ She paused. ‘Are you feeling yourself lately or …’ Her voiced trailed off. ‘I mean, I know that sometimes you get a bit confused.’
I didn’t like where this was going and I promised to phone with any further news before hanging up.
I sat on the bench for a while watching the world go by. The sun glinted off a large bronze figure of a man walking his dog; a piece of art commissioned by the council. The gleam hit my eyes as I shifted forward on the bench to try and read the plaque beneath it.
I was suddenly struck by an image.
My memory was hazy. A knife. I closed my eyes, let out an audible gasp as I could almost feel the prick of the knife’s point in my back. I shook, my stomach swirled with anguish and the lapping waves of nausea trickled in and out of my brain. I urged my mind to think further, to remember anything. A fragmented image of a hand and I squeezed my eyes shut even tighter. But then all I saw was black. The same black that had erased my memory twenty years ago, and I had woken up in my own bed.
I opened my eyes, my knuckles white as I gripped my handbag.
It was time to meet the clinical psychologist.
CHAPTER 10
Darren Fletcher had agreed to meet me straight away because of the urgency of the case. He was stood outside Acton Green Tube station. He wore scruffy jeans and a navy blue wool jacket. He was busy making small talk with the florist as I exited. He approached me.
‘Sophie? I’m Darren.’
We shook hands.
‘How are you holding up?’
‘I’m not.’
‘You’re doing well,’ he said.
‘How do you know?’ I arched a brow.
‘I mean, you’re here. You’re trying.’ He gave another small smile. ‘It’s admirable.’
We walked toward the green.
‘I know this is probably hard for you, but I thought whilst the fair is still here, it might jog another memory.’
The rides and tents were indeed all still in place, only this time, it being mid-week, they weren’t lit up and instead the green had assumed a deathly solitude about it.
I looked to where the candyfloss seller had been set up. There was nothing there now. My eyes smarted.
Darren looked at me. ‘Tell me what you’re thinking.’
‘That’s where Amy was when she disappeared.’
‘Right.’ He caressed his unshaven chin. ‘And where were you?’
I walked a few metres on. ‘Here.’
‘OK, close your e
yes, Sophie.’ He looked around us. ‘There’s no one about, so try to relax and remember the sights and smells of the day.’
I nodded.
‘What could you smell?’
‘Um,’ I hesitated. ‘Candyfloss, hot dogs, Paul’s cologne.’ I opened my eyes. ‘Even though he wasn’t there with me at that point.’
‘OK, close your eyes again, Sophie. That’s really good. How did it feel? Was it warm?’
‘Yeah, it was pretty warm. The sun was on my face.’
‘OK, and then you had a call. So you got your phone out of your bag?’
I nodded. ‘I got my phone out and I was looking over there.’ I pointed, not opening my eyes.
‘Right, and this woman’s voice, did you know right away that this was the same woman who spoke to Amy earlier? The same one you saw outside the hamburger joint?’
‘Yes.’
‘And how do you think you came to that conclusion, because I presume you had never heard her voice before?’
I hadn’t thought about that. ‘Gut instinct, I guess.’
I sensed Darren shuffle slightly. A couple walked past chatting, then stopped as they came up alongside us. I opened my eyes, suddenly self-conscious. Darren smiled.
‘Don’t worry, it’s London. They won’t have thought anything of it.’
I nodded, closed my eyes, willed my mind to focus. ‘Yes, I knew it was her. I could just sense it, the woman’s voice sounded so familiar, like a voice you would never forget.’
‘OK, did you hear anything else? Maybe in the background?’
‘No,’ I started, and then my eyes snapped open. ‘Yes, I do remember. I thought I heard someone calling my name.’
‘Could it have been Amy?’
‘No, it was really similar to the voice on the phone.’
‘So this woman was speaking to you and you could hear another person calling your name? A woman or a child? Go on, try and go further with that, Sophie.’
‘I didn’t think anything of it, thought it was just some woman nearby, a strange coincidence, you know? But come to think of it it’s like there were two of them on the phone.’ I squinted into the sun.