by D. S. Butler
The thought of my sister made me catch my breath. It wasn’t always like that. Now that some time had passed, I could remember her with a smile instead of tears most of the time, as long as I was prepared.
But sometimes when I’d let my guard down and memories zipped through my mind without warning, it caught me unprepared.
That’s when I realised the pain would never go away. It would always be there, lurking just beneath the surface.
The journey to Woodstock took twenty-five minutes, and as the bus passed the entrance to Blenheim Palace, I reached for my bag and then leant over to press the bell, signalling to the driver I wanted the next stop.
The bus pulled up opposite the Marlborough Arms, and I struggled with my case, yanking it over the metal bars, then thanked the driver and stepped down onto the pavement.
The rain was coming down harder now, and I should have run for shelter, but I could only stare blankly at the bus as it accelerated away. The familiar old buildings made of Cotswold stone, which had once looked so welcoming and homely, now seemed to crowd around me menacingly. The small, multi-pane windows glinted darkly, and it was easy to imagine faces behind the dark glass looking out and watching me.
I shivered and then yanked my case behind me as I moved closer to the sandy buildings, trying to get some shelter from the rain. I walked past the town hall, crossed the road and stopped beneath the navy blue awning of Betty’s Teahouse.
Bedraggled and slightly breathless, I decided to wait until the rain lessened a little before walking to Mum’s house. As the rain hit the awning, it sounded like tiny bullets ricocheting off the canvas.
Raindrops splashed in puddles at my feet, splattering my legs and forming dark blue splotches on my jeans. I pushed back my hair, and my fingers caught in tangles.
The bell above the teahouse door sounded as a middle-aged woman emerged carrying her groceries. I stepped to one side, apologising as she passed me.
As she’d opened the door, a rush of warm air had left the teashop. It smelled of freshly-baked bread and coffee, and my stomach rumbled.
For a moment, I considered going inside. I told myself it was the sensible thing to do. I wasn’t avoiding going home. It just made sense to stay inside until the rain stopped.
Mum’s house was only a short walk from the teashop, but with the rain hammering down, I would end up looking like a drowned rat if I attempted to make the journey now.
The sweetly-fragrant hanging basket beside me, heavy with drooping fuchsias and orange begonias, dripped on my shoulder.
I stepped a little closer to the building and pulled out my phone to text Mum and tell her I’d be home in twenty minutes. She replied almost immediately, telling me the police would be there in an hour’s time.
I was lost in thought and didn’t pay attention to the low voice beside me. It wasn’t until I felt a hand touch my shoulder that I whirled around, eyes widened in alarm.
Chapter Eight
“Sorry, Beth, I didn’t mean to startle you.”
It was Luke Bowman. His fair hair fell over his bright blue eyes, and he pushed it back as he grinned at me. He’d hardly changed. He still had the same boyish grin, and his eyes still crinkled at the corners when he smiled.
“I didn’t realise you were back,” Luke said, his smile fading slightly when I didn’t greet him enthusiastically.
I forced myself to smile and raised my arms to hug him. “I only got back today. I landed this morning.”
“You’ve been in the Middle East, right?”
I nodded. “Yes, Dubai.”
His grin widened again. “Well, it’s really good to see you. I don’t suppose an international jet-setter like you has time for a coffee?”
I hesitated, and he looked out at the terrible weather. “It doesn’t look like the rain is going to stop anytime soon. We may as well wait it out in comfort.”
He stepped away from me and held open the door to the teahouse. I shrugged. I was planning on sheltering inside the teahouse anyway, and a little company wouldn’t be so bad.
“All right,” I said. “A cup of coffee sounds good.”
Inside the tea shop, it was darker still, but it felt cosy rather than oppressive. The lady behind the counter, who was carefully putting cakes onto a tray, smiled warmly at us as we entered. We made our way to a table beside the rain splattered window, and Luke pulled out my chair before sitting down himself.
“So, what is new with you?”
It was a normal enough question, but I tensed before replying. I reached out to pull the small paper menu towards me, even though I didn’t need to look at it. The menu hadn’t changed since I had last been here over two years ago.
“Not much,” I said and tried to smile, keeping my eyes fixed on the menu.
I could feel the weight of Luke’s gaze but refused to look up. He knew me too well, and I didn’t want to tell anyone about the photograph before I’d had a chance to talk to Mum. It wasn’t because I didn’t trust Luke. It was tempting to confide in him. He’d been a good friend, and it was only my escape to Dubai that had cut down on our contact.
“What have you been up to?”
He smiled, noticing my none too subtle deflection.
“Coping with a frantically busy clinic for the most part. I shouldn’t complain. It’s earning me a good living, and I enjoy going to work every day.”
“I’m glad it’s going well.”
Luke had made sacrifices to get the career he’d dreamed of since he’d been a teenager, but it had been worth it. He looked content and relaxed. He’d studied veterinary medicine at Nottingham University after transferring from Warwick and had bought into a veterinary practice four years ago.
“You don’t look overworked,” I said. “In fact, you look happy.”
Luke’s expression grew serious. “You, on the other hand, look anything but happy. Do you want to talk about it? Did something go wrong in Dubai?”
I shook my head.
“No, something didn’t go wrong in Dubai, or no you don’t want to talk about it?”
I smiled. “It’s not something I can talk about right now.” I fiddled with the paper menu. “There are other people I need to speak to first.”
“Fair enough. If you change your mind, you know where to find me. I’m a good listener.”
“I remember. Are you still living on Union Street?”
Luke nodded. “Yes, I should buy my own place instead of wasting money on renting, but I’ve grown attached to the place. Actually, that’s not true. I’m lazy, and moving sounds too much like hard work to me.”
We both turned as a female member of staff dressed in black, wearing a white apron, approached our table.
“What can I get you?” she asked.
“I’ll have a white coffee, please.”
Luke raised an eyebrow. “No toasted teacake?”
I shook my head. “Not today.”
I used to love coming in here on Saturday mornings with Kate for a pot of tea and a toasted teacake oozing with butter. I bit down on my lower lip and tried to force the memories away.
Luke placed his order: a teacake and black coffee with cream on the side, and the woman walked back toward the kitchen.
“How is your brother?”
Luke eased backwards into his chair, and his features tightened.
“He’s getting by,” he said after a momentary pause.
I was a hypocrite. This was a hard subject for him. I didn’t want to talk to him about Jenna, so why did I feel it was okay to make him talk about his brother, Phil, and remember that difficult period in their lives.
Before I could apologise and change the subject, Luke said, “He is still living in London. He has a professorship at Imperial College now, but he does occasionally come back to Oxford.”
“Do you get to see him when he comes back?”
Luke gave me a half smile. “Only if I arrange it.” He shrugged. “I miss how things used to be. But Phil can’t help it. Thi
s is his way of coping. He focuses on work.”
“I don’t suppose you ever really get over something like that,” I said.
Luke frowned and turned to look out of the window. The rain was still hammering down and showed no signs of letting up.
“I’m sorry,” I said. “I shouldn’t have brought up the subject. Why don’t you tell me how your new veterinary practice is going?”
“It’s going really well. We’ve been incredibly busy, and it’s been a lot of hard work to get established, but things are slowly starting to come together. I was lucky to get in on an up-and-coming practice. I dread to think how much hard work would be involved in starting one from scratch.”
We paused in our conversation as an older lady came to serve drinks and Luke’s toasted teacake.
She beamed broadly as she put down my coffee cup and turned to Luke. “It’s lovely to see you. Thanks to you, Mittens has had a new lease of life after the medicine you prescribed for him.”
She smiled in a motherly way at Luke, and I almost expected her to reach out and ruffle his hair, or maybe pinch his cheeks, but she didn’t. Instead, she put a white paper bag on the table.
“I know you didn’t order it, but I know how much you like them.”
She smiled at me, patted Luke on the shoulder and then walked off.
Intrigued, I leant forward and nodded at the white paper bag. “What is it?”
“I imagine it’s a millionaire’s shortbread,” Luke said. “I’m sure you remember they’re my weakness.”
I grinned, remembering countless occasions when Luke and I had bought cakes from this very shop and then walked to the bus stop munching on them.
He peered inside the white bag and nodded. “Yep, I was right.”
“It’s nice to see some things haven’t changed,” I said, and I meant it.
I sipped my hot coffee as Luke entertained me with tales of his life at the veterinary clinic.
“We mainly deal with small pets, dogs and cats. We don’t handle many larger animals.”
“No horses?”
Luke shook his head. He’d always loved horses, and I’d always thought he would specialise in equine care. When we were in our early teens, we had taken to walking around the local stables on Saturdays, and even though his parents couldn’t pay for expensive horse riding lessons, we would watch the younger children riding their ponies around the small circuit. Once some of the staff had got to know us, they were happy to let us do some mucking out for them, in exchange for a few lessons. I’d loved the soft-tempered ponies the best, but Luke had adored all of them, from the temperamental grey mare down to the miniature Shetland pony.
“Smaller animals are a better career choice,” Luke said.
“I suppose there are always people wanting treatment for their dogs and cats.”
Luke nodded. “Exactly.”
My coffee cup was still half full when I noticed that the rain had started to ease. Despite the shock of the photograph of Jenna and the upcoming interview with the police laying heavily on my mind, I had enjoyed seeing Luke again. But I couldn’t afford to waste any more time. I wanted to speak to Mum before the police arrived at her house. Reaching for my jacket I’d hung on the back of my chair, I muttered a quick apology to Luke. He hadn’t even finished eating his toasted teacake yet.
“The rain is easing up,” I said. “I’m going to make a dash for it. Sorry to rush off like this.”
Luke shook his head and wiped his buttery fingers on a napkin. “It was nice seeing you again, Beth. Maybe we could meet up before you go back to Dubai?”
“Sure,” I said shoving my arms into the slightly damp linen jacket. “I’d like that.”
“What’s your number?”
I opened my mouth about to reel off my mobile number and then remembered that I probably wouldn’t have my phone for long. No doubt I would have to hand it over to the police as evidence, and they would keep it for as long as they needed.
“I’m about to get a new phone,” I said, not wanting to give Luke a full explanation right now. “But I’ll be staying at my Mum’s, and you know the landline number there, right?”
Luke smiled. “I do.”
I pulled my purse from my bag and rummaged through it to find some money to pay the bill, but Luke held up a hand. “Don’t worry about it. My treat.”
“Thanks.”
I said goodbye, leant down to kiss him on the cheek and then headed out of the tearoom.
Outside, the rain had lessened to a light drizzle. The hanging baskets were drenched and dripping steadily. I walked quickly along the High Street, wheeling my case behind me. Luke, hadn’t changed at all. I felt bad for not letting him know the real reason I’d come home, but how could I tell him about the photograph before I’d spoken to Mum, Daniel and the police? It wouldn’t be fair, and I didn’t want to do anything that could have a detrimental effect on the police investigation.
I was lost in thought as I reached the end of the High Street and prepared to turn left into Rectory Lane. Because I’d walked this way so many times in the past, I was functioning on autopilot, but I came to a sudden stop as a figure appeared directly in front of me.
It was Pippa Clarkson, and she had stopped dead in the middle of the pavement to stare at me.
Woodstock was a very small town, so I really wasn’t surprised to run into another person I knew. Pippa’s reaction did surprise me, though.
Her face appeared frozen.
I smiled at her. “Hi, Pippa, how are you?”
Pippa continued to stare at me, and I shifted awkwardly under her gaze. I began to think she wasn’t going to answer me, but finally, her expression cleared, and she put a hand against her forehead.
“Beth! I’m so sorry. I wasn’t expecting to see you. It was such a surprise.”
She shook her head and took a couple of steps forward to clear the distance between us before pulling me in for a hug. “Nobody told me you were coming back.”
I took a step back and shrugged. Pippa had been a good friend of Kate’s and seeing her again made me feel Kate’s absence keenly.
“It was a spur of the moment thing,” I said. “In fact, I have to hurry because I’m supposed to be meeting Mum now. She’s waiting for me.”
Pippa stepped to the side of the pavement to let me pass. “Of course, sorry.” As I walked past her, she turned and added, “Why don’t we meet up and go for a drink or a meal while you’re back in the UK? You are just visiting, aren’t you? Or are you coming home for good?”
I had no idea. It all depended on how the search for Jenna went, but I couldn’t say that to Pippa. Instead, I carried on walking, and said, “Meeting up would be lovely.”
I didn’t really mean it, though. Spending the evening with Pippa would be difficult because it would be so hard to see her without Kate. Not wanting to hurt her feelings, I said goodbye and then rushed on towards Mum’s house before she could make any definite plans.
Chapter Nine
Our old family home held many memories. The main section of the house was made from Cotswold stone and double-fronted with small windows, but over the years, newer sections had been added, and the overall effect was a jumble of odd and quirky shaped rooms. We’d loved playing hide and seek when we were growing up because there were so many nooks and crannies.
The house was originally the Old Rectory and was partially hidden behind a tall wall made of Cotswold stone. I trailed my fingers along the crumbly, sandy stone and then stopped at the gate. The gate was a relatively new addition. Mum had installed the intercom system and large electric gate after my father died. She said it made her feel more secure, but today, the gate was open, probably because she was expecting me to arrive.
I slipped inside and closed the metal gate behind me. It shut with a metallic clang.
I walked up the familiar garden path, breathing in the fresh green scent of the herb garden mingled with the smell of damp earth.
The old apple tree was st
ill there, it’s gnarly branches reaching up to the sky, and the last of the pinkish white blossoms still clung on in patches.
Mum must have been watching out for me because I didn’t even have a chance to knock on the front door before it opened.
“Beth!”
I let go of my case and enveloped Mum in a hug. I could smell her Oscar de la Renta perfume, and tears stung my eyes as I hugged her tight.
“It’s good to see you, Mum,” I muttered against the shoulder of her grey cashmere cardigan.
She took a deep breath and moved back, keeping her hands on my shoulders as she studied my face.
Her eyes were unnaturally bright and shiny with unshed tears.
“It’s really her, isn’t it, Beth?”
“I think so.”
I turned away and shut the front door behind me, wheeling my case out of the way and back against the wall. I linked my arm through Mum’s as we walked to the kitchen.
She had so many questions, but I didn’t have any answers.
I put my handbag on the scrubbed pine table in the centre of the kitchen and pulled out my mobile phone. With a couple of taps on the screen, I accessed the message and the photograph of Jenna and showed it to Mum.
She held her breath as her trembling hand reached out for the phone, and her fingers touched the image of Jenna’s face.
“I don’t recognise the number,” I said. “So, I have no idea who sent it. It could be the person who took her…or somebody who’s seen Jenna and recognised her from the news reports.”
Mum looked at me, dazed. “I think that’s the first thing the police will want to look into. They’ll probably take your phone and try and trace that number.”
I nodded. “I hope they’ve already made a start on tracing the phone number. They should be here soon, shouldn’t they?”