Shona knew what she had to do, but what if she was wrong? What if her mind was playing tricks, just like Patrick’s did to him every single day? Malicious phone calls were one thing, but if she was mistaken about this, it would finish her off.
The girl’s eyes rolled back in their sockets and pinpricks of sweat burst from her skin as if she had a fever. Her breathing was laboured and raspy while her collar bones jutted from beneath her T-shirt.
Shona went around to the other side of the table and tentatively brought a hand towards her. ‘Do you mind?’ There was no reply, so she placed her palm flat on her forehead. She felt the heat emanating from her. Then, without asking, Shona peeled back the thin layer of hair behind her left ear, leaning down to take a closer look. If it was there, she thought, it would be easy to find. Her fingers trembled as she parted the knotted strands. She held her breath and her heart thumped.
And there it was. About two inches long, the scar zigzagged away from the dirty creases behind the girl’s ear down towards her equally grimy neck. It was much paler now and somehow seemed smaller than she remembered.
The clifftop walk, the windy day, then the fall down onto the rocks followed by the guilt at having to confess to the emergency doctor that they’d taken their eye off their daughter. Lenni had been pretending to be a bird but was more upset at not being able to fly than she was about the blood pouring from her head or the stitches she needed. Shona had felt like the worst mother in the world.
‘Eleanor,’ she whispered, crouching down beside the girl. She wanted to pull her into her arms but was worried she might crush her. Instead, her eyes blurred with tears. She had no idea if she was dreaming or had simply lost her mind. Nothing seemed real.
Silence for a few moments – no words, no joy or confusion, no breath or movement – just the beating of two hearts as they synchronised and fell into an old, familiar rhythm.
The girl tilted her head towards Shona as if it weighed a ton. Her eyes were washed out, vacant and staring, while her brain wrestled with the decision.
Yes or no? Am I Eleanor or not?
‘Are you cross?’ she whispered.
Chapter Seventy-One
Shona’s message sounded urgent and desperate so, instead of calling her back, Claire headed straight back to the farm. She’d had enough of the hospital anyway and drove recklessly along the narrow lanes to Trevellin – her mind on fire from what Callum had done, as well as what she was going to do to him. Seeing the beautiful new babies was completely at odds with how she felt. She didn’t think she’d ever felt so emotional, angry or upset.
She pulled into the courtyard and got out of the car, but even before her hand touched the back door knob, she slowed to a stop, sensing something was wrong. She wasn’t sure what – perhaps just something in the air, the way the light was today. She knew this place too well, sensed every nuance, every tiny change. Even the chickens seemed to notice it, huddling against the barn wall. It was the silence that got to her most, making her pause before she went inside. She listened – nothing. Nothing except a slow, resonant heartbeat, as if the house itself was waking up from a long, long sleep. Then she went inside.
‘Mum?’ she called from the boot room. ‘I got your message. What’s going on? Is Dad back yet?’ She dumped her bag on the side table and went through to the kitchen. Her initial feeling was relief. Shona was bending down, fussing over someone sitting in the armchair – her father, she assumed.
But when Shona stood, her worried expression conveyed to Claire that no, her father wasn’t home yet. A dishevelled-looking girl sat beside her.
‘I don’t know where he is,’ Shona confirmed, shaking her head.
‘Have you been out looking?’ Claire’s eyes flicked between her mother and the girl in the chair. ‘Shall I go up into the fields?’
‘Love,’ Shona said, ignoring her question. She reached out a hand to her. ‘I think you’d better sit down for this.’
‘Mum, what is it? Where’s Dad? Just tell me what’s happened?’ Claire wasn’t sure she could take anything else today.
‘I’m praying Dad will be OK. Just sit down, will you, love? This is important.’ Shona pulled out a chair from the table, but Claire remained standing.
‘I think we should call someone, Mum. Maybe the police. It’s been ages since he went.’
‘Actually, I’ve already called them,’ Shona said through a smile Claire didn’t recognise. She nodded in return, relieved her mother had taken action, but then found her gaze drawn back to the silent girl. ‘Although not for the reasons you think,’ Shona added.
Claire sighed, annoyed at the intrusion of this girl’s presence, but then she did a double take. What was that she just saw? That look. Goose bumps travelled down her entire body. She didn’t want to embarrass the ill-looking visitor, but her being here was disturbing in a way she couldn’t quite fathom.
‘Darling, something has happened.’ Shona’s face was alight with wonder, as if she was in some kind of dream. Curiously, Shona got down on her knees in front of the girl and took hold of one of her hands. Claire thought she might kiss it and, when she actually did, she let out a shocked cough.
‘Mum?’ she said. ‘You’re scaring me now. What’s going on?’ Claire drew up to Shona’s side, taking hold of her outstretched hand.
‘Come here, Claire,’ Shona whispered, beckoning her down to where she knelt on the rug. The girl sat blinking, staring straight ahead, her knees pressed together and her lips constantly churning as if they’d never been taught how to be still. She was dirty, thin, unhealthy-looking and the smell coming from her was nauseating. Yet there was something about her, something strangely beautiful and serene, though Claire’s stressed and fragile mind couldn’t pinpoint exactly what.
She did as Shona said, crouching down tentatively beside her mother. ‘Please, Mum, tell me,’ she said quietly, staring into the girl’s sad eyes. Even before Shona had a chance to reply, the realisation flickered through her, filling her mind with possibilities. Though she hardly dared hope. What if she was wrong? But that look…
Claire clasped her mother’s hand tighter, listening to the girl’s rasping breaths, as if each one was a struggle.
‘It’s her,’ Shona said. ‘Darling… She’s come home.’
Claire felt as though she was going to pass out. Without taking her eyes off the girl, she knelt down properly at her feet, studying every feature. What her mother was telling her, what she could see for herself, what had happened two decades ago were all at odds in her mind. Her rational side screamed out that this wasn’t possible. She didn’t know whether to laugh, cry, yell or punch something. Instead, she was perfectly still in case the beautiful moment disappeared.
‘Lenni…?’ Claire whispered, daring to take hold of one of the girl’s thin hands. Shona held the other one and, between them, they formed a triangle, inching closer, drawing in to the daughter, the sister, they never thought they’d see again. Slowly, Claire brought Lenni’s hand to her lips, kissing it, breathing in a glimmer of the last two decades.
* * *
Claire stared out to sea. The tide lapped at her ankles, soaking her trainers and the bottom of her jeans. She didn’t care. The ambulance, with Lenni and several police officers in it, had not long left, but she had actually been there at Trevellin all along? Claire could hardly take it in.
Lenni. Eleanor. Len-monster.
She kicked the sand and an arc of watery sludge flew through the air. She did it again and again until her foot ached and a pair of hands came down gently on her shoulders from behind, steadying her.
‘I saw her, Nick. I saw her.’ She covered her face. The whole day was as far from reality as anything could be. Callum, Rain, the twins, Lenni… It somehow compressed the last couple of decades into a fleeting few seconds. They might as well all still be charging around the beach searching for Lenni the day she went missing. And Nick walking alongside her now made it seem as though nothing had changed. Yet everything had.
‘It’s fucking incredible,’ he said, shaking his head. ‘I still can’t believe it. I mean, how did she seem? Do they know anything… did she say much? Is it really her?’ Nick put his arm around her as they stared out to sea. There were so many questions, yet she couldn’t answer them all yet.
‘It was definitely her. They’ll do DNA tests of course but Mum and I know. We saw the scar. Beneath the years of abuse, we still recognised her. She was ill, Nick, very ill. But she was still Lenni. They wouldn’t let us go to the hospital with her yet. Something about infection risks and gathering evidence. We can see her again later.’
Nick nodded as the water lapped around their ankles.
‘I literally thought I was going to pass out when Mum told me. I felt sick.’
‘You’ve had more stress in a few days than most people have in a lifetime,’ Nick said, pulling her closer. They stared at the horizon, watching the sun sink lower. In a few hours, there would be a spectacular sunset. Claire glanced at her watch.
‘I should get back,’ she said, feeling guilty. She’d told Shona she wouldn’t be long, that she’d just needed time to think, to process what had happened. She still had Callum to deal with, after all. ‘Plus, I’m worried sick about Dad. He wasn’t back when I left.’
Nick agreed, and they walked back, their hands folding naturally together as they headed up the beach.
Chapter Seventy-Two
When they got back to the farmhouse, Shona was about to leave with two police officers. ‘Darling, they’ve said she’s allowed one visitor at the hospital, so I must go, but I’m desperately worried about Dad. He’s still not back.’ She looked broken and was on the brink of tears. ‘The police are going to look for him now. He needs to be told about Lenni.’
Claire placed a hand on her mother’s arm. ‘Yes, you go, Mum. I’ll help find him. Try not to worry.’ She paused, hardly able to believe what she was about to say. ‘And tell Lenni I love her. Tell her I’m waiting for her. That I always have done.’ She was fighting back the tears too, willing herself to stay strong. On the way back from the beach she’d spotted Callum’s car at the Old Stables. Before she looked for her father, there was something else she needed to do.
* * *
The house was unusually dark and cool inside, as if it what had happened in it had somehow drained it of warmth and love. She didn’t bother calling out his name; she knew the sick bastard was in there somewhere. Feeling oddly calm, her anger having transformed into a strange sense of power, Claire walked slowly through the hallway and into the kitchen. His keys were lying on the counter, as if he’d just come home from work, expecting his evening meal to be ready, plus all the other things he’d taken for granted over the years. None of it had ever bothered her before – she’d always enjoyed being a wife, a mother, his best friend. So she’d believed. She ran a glass of water, drinking it in a few swift gulps, wiping her mouth before going to the living room doorway.
Callum was sitting on the sofa, his head bent forward in his hands, staring at the floor.
Claire thumped her fist on the door, slamming it back against the wall. He didn’t look up immediately, but when he did, he couldn’t meet her eyes.
‘You fucking disgusting piece of shit,’ she spat out, her hand smarting. She didn’t care. She thumped the door again, almost enjoying the feeling. ‘How fucking dare you even set foot in this house after what you did. You shouldn’t be near any of us.’
‘Claire—’
‘Don’t give me your bullshit. I don’t want to hear it.’ She marched up close to him, shoving him on the shoulder. He flinched. ‘What were you thinking?’ She kicked his foot, but he just sat there. ‘I’ve already told the police you made me lie to cover your slimy arse. You make me sick!’
‘None of this is what you think,’ he said, making to stand up. Claire shoved him again, catching him off balance so he fell back into the chair again.
‘What, raping a fifteen-year-old isn’t what it sounds like?’ She let out a disgusted noise. ‘I can’t even listen to your pathetic excuses.’ Claire spat at him, kicking his leg hard. He stood up, looming over her.
‘You don’t know what you’re talking about, Claire. You’re stressed and not thinking straight. We’ll sort this out and everything will be normal again. Me, you, the kids – a fresh start.’ He went to take her by the shoulders, perhaps even bring her in for a hug, but she shoved him again, her palms thumping flat against his chest.
‘Don’t fucking touch me, you pervert! I want you out of my life. And don’t even think of going near our children ever again, you sick, sick monster.’ Claire swung round, shaking, firing on pure adrenalin, and ran upstairs to their bedroom. She yanked open the wardrobe doors, grabbing armfuls of Callum’s clothes – clothes she had once pressed and neatly put away. She opened the window and flung them out, hurling bundles of underwear, suits, sweaters, shoes – everything he owned – onto the front lawn.
‘Claire, stop. You’re not seeing sense right now. We need to pull together as a team—’
‘Get out! Now!’ she screamed. He was in the doorway – his face pale, his shoulders hunched.
‘Claire…’ he said, holding out his hands.
‘Don’t Claire me,’ she replied, returning from the bathroom with an armful of his toiletries. They all went out of the window too. ‘Rain is a child. What else have you done over the years that I don’t know about?’ She shook her head, blowing out a sigh through clenched teeth. Then she pulled two suitcases from the top of the wardrobe and shoved them at Callum. ‘Get the fuck out of this house and don’t come back. Ever!’ The tears were flowing hot and fast now. ‘I’ll have the rest of your stuff sent on. To hell!’ she screamed, lashing out at him again.
Fending off her blows, Callum finally retreated, taking the suitcases with him. When she heard the front door bang shut, the Range Rover roar off, Claire hurled herself onto the bed and sobbed like she’d never done before. Her life had been destroyed in the worst way imaginable, yet a part of it was also about to be rebuilt. She didn’t know what to think or do, so she pressed her face into the pillow instead, letting the tears flow.
* * *
‘Should I phone Mum now?’ Claire said to Nick for about the tenth time. She’d tried to freshen up before coming back to the farmhouse, but even an hour later, her eyes were still red and sore. ‘And should I call the police again about Dad?’
‘Drink?’ he said, pouring two glasses of wine. ‘And no. You shouldn’t call anyone. It’s too soon.’ It was good to see a flicker of hope in Claire’s eyes, he thought, even though he could see she’d been sobbing. ‘Just take a moment to relax, Claire. You’re in a mess.’
They’d not long had a call from a detective about Lenni, but hadn’t learnt much more. ‘Your sister has been taken to a place of safety,’ he’d told her. ‘A secure medical facility. She’ll be able to have more visitors tomorrow, but for now it’s important we collect evidence before it becomes degraded.’
Claire had understood, though she wanted nothing more than to bundle Lenni up, bring her home and never let her out of her sight again. But she was grateful that Shona had at least been allowed to see her. ‘Thank you,’ she’d said flatly before hanging up. One more day without her. But it would be the longest of them all.
She took the wine gratefully. ‘Why, Nick, why, after all these years, did she turn up out of the blue? Did someone release her, did she escape?’ Her mind was leaping ahead, filling up with questions that didn’t yet have answers. ‘She was virtually mute when she was here and seemed terrified, so we didn’t press her.’ She took a mouthful of wine. ‘What if she’d wanted to disappear?’ She covered her face at the possibility, that life here at the farm had become too intolerable.
She stared at the chair where Lenni had sat. It had swallowed her up.
‘If someone took her, I swear I’ll kill the fucker who did it.’ Her voice was wavering. ‘I’m so angry. Angrier than I’ve ever been… about everythin
g that’s happened.’ Shaking, she put down her wine and tugged hard at her wedding ring, pulling it off and tossing it across the table so it skidded onto the floor.
‘I’m here for you, Claire. We’ll get through this,’ Nick said, taking her hand.
She looked at him, about to say something, but she heard a noise outside. She stood, glancing out of the window. ‘Oh, thank God. Jason’s back,’ she said, watching as the taxi pulled away. She’d phoned him a hundred times, but his battery must have run out. ‘And Maggie and Rain are with him too.’ She ran to the back door, grabbing onto her brother as he came inside, pulling Maggie and Rain close too. She tried to tell them everything coherently, but it all blurted out in garbled sobs.
For a while, Jason didn’t speak. He dropped into his father’s chair and sat, stunned, unable to comprehend the end of what had already been the most momentous day of his life. He’d left Greta in hospital sleeping with their babies – each was adorable and healthy, and Greta was glowing, ready to take on motherhood. But this… this was not what he’d expected. It was joy enough to be a father, to have Rain found safe and well, but to learn that Lenni – were they sure it was her, he’d asked a thousand times – had somehow come home, alive, was more than he could take in.
‘Oh, Claire, that’s unbelievable, incredible,’ Maggie said, as they hugged. ‘I don’t know what to say… about anything any more, frankly.’ She went over to be with Rain who was sitting in the corner, watching and listening to the goings-on, though quietly indifferent with a fearful look in her eye. Her legs were curled up on the chair and her arms clutched an oversized cardigan around her body – so unlike the Rain any of them knew. She needed her mother more than ever now.
By the time Marcus came back, plans were being made amid a cacophony of speculation and unanswerable questions. Claire had arranged for Amy to stay on and sleep over at her friend’s house. Explaining everything to her daughter was not something she could deal with tonight. Besides, Amy had witnessed enough upheaval and drama these last few days, and time with her best friend would do her good. She knew she’d be perfectly safe.
The Reunion: An utterly gripping psychological thriller with a jaw-dropping twist Page 30