The Retreat

by Mark Edwards

  She flung the hip flask with all her strength towards the river. It fell short, landing on the edge of the bank. They both stared after it.

  ‘If you pick it up, that’s it,’ she said.

  ‘I’m not going to.’ But she saw the way his eyes flicked sideways, could see the longing there.

  ‘I’m going to catch up with Lily,’ she said. ‘We can talk about it when we get home.’

  The final part of the path was steep, forcing her to run to avoid slipping again, and she skidded to a halt among the trees. Bare branches, slimy leaf mulch on the ground, more puddles of mud.

  But no sign of Lily.

  She strode ahead towards the far edge of the copse, aware of her heartbeat accelerating while following a trail of footsteps. Michael was a few steps behind her as Julia called out, ‘Lily?’

  There was no response. Logic told her she would find Lily just beyond the trees, but logic couldn’t quell the cold eddy of fear in her belly.

  ‘Lily,’ she called again, trying to keep her voice light. ‘We’re going to have hot chocolate when we get home.’

  And you can watch as much YouTube as you like, she added silently.

  Julia emerged on the other side of the copse, sure the sky had grown darker during the few minutes she’d been beneath the trees, the clouds more swollen with rain. Ahead, the path rose, steep but not as muddy as before. And the churning in Julia’s stomach intensified.

  Where was she? Where the hell was Lily?

  Julia ran up the slope to a crest that overlooked the river. The water foamed and snapped at the bank. And that was when she saw it, the sight that almost stopped her heart.

  Big Cat, floating on the water.

  ‘Michael!’

  His name emerged as a scream. She ran back to him, grabbed hold of his arm and pointed at the river, at the black-and-white stuffed toy. He saw it immediately and their eyes locked, mother and father, before he tore off his coat and ran down the bank, across a ledge of flat grey rocks that stretched out to the water. He paused for a second, shouting for their daughter as the river dragged Big Cat beneath its surface.

  Michael plunged into the water. Julia had no idea how deep it was, but her husband was swallowed up as if he’d never existed. It must have been only seconds later that his head reappeared, but it felt like forever. Julia paced the bank, wringing her hands and trying to focus on the water, searching among the grey and white for a glimpse of Lily. If she thought throwing herself in would save her daughter, would even give her a tiny chance of survival, she would do it without hesitation. But she was helpless. Useless.

  ‘I can’t see her,’ Michael called, the panic in his voice reflecting the sick sensation in Julia’s stomach. The water rushed around him, crashing over him like waves hitting rocks.

  ‘Keep trying!’

  He went under again, then came back to the surface almost immediately, gasping and fighting to stay afloat. The frigid water squeezed the breath from his lungs and his voice was weak as he called out for Lily. He caught Julia’s eye and she knew what he was thinking. He was going to give up.

  She had to do something.

  ‘Over there!’ she yelled, pointing to the centre of the river. ‘I saw something.’

  He struck out towards where she had pointed, against the current. Water pummelled him and he went under, gulping down air before he kicked out, turning in the water. He was four or five metres from the bank, clearly struggling, fighting the river as it tried to claim him. In her panicked state, Julia imagined creatures beneath the surface, clutching at Michael’s ankles, dragging him down. She pictured Lily down there too, wrapped in a river creature’s deathly embrace.

  Michael was getting weaker – Julia could see it on his face, in his sluggish kick – and a burst of foaming water caught him, sweeping him away from where Julia stood. It didn’t cross her mind that he might drown. As a non-swimmer she had an inflated idea of his abilities. All she wanted was for him to keep trying, to find Lily. As he headed for the far bank, submerging for a moment before coming back to the surface, she remembered her phone in her pocket and woke it up with shaking hands, punching 999, yelling at the operator who answered, their calm voice doing nothing to soothe her.

  When she looked up, Michael was gone.

  Julia dashed down to the edge of the bank, onto the rocks, expecting Michael to emerge, trying not to panic. She swept her gaze along the river, left, then right. Where was he? Where was he? It was cold, so cold on the riverbank, but she barely felt it, in the same way she couldn’t feel the tears on her cheeks.

  She couldn’t feel a thing.

  There was silence in the room after she’d finished, the weight of her words thickening the air between us. I groped for something to say, something more than a platitude.

  Should I tell her my own story now? Show her that I understood exactly how it felt to have someone you love ripped from your world? For a great boot to stamp on your life?

  Julia spoke before I could make up my mind.

  ‘I shouldn’t have threatened to chuck you out,’ she said. ‘But you have to understand it’s still raw. All of it.’ There was a long pause. I wondered if she knew I might have heard her during the night. I guessed she hadn’t thought about it; it seemed she was compelled to spend her nights in Lily’s room, communing with her missing daughter, in the same way an alcoholic is drawn to the bottle.

  As Julia spoke she twisted her hands together, ignoring a lock of hair that dropped across her eye. ‘People think that time heals, that you get over it. But every day for me is like a Groundhog Day, you know? I wake up, missing Lily. A hundred times a day I imagine her coming through the front door. A hundred times a day I blame myself for not keeping a better eye on her. I curse my parents for not forcing me go to swimming lessons. The same things, every single day. And at the end of it, I go to bed missing Lily.’

  I didn’t know what to say.

  She finally brushed the hair away from her eye. ‘Of course, there are moments when I almost forget. But then I get this feeling of panic, this knowledge that there’s something I’m supposed to be worrying about. Then I remember, and the guilt hits me. Like, how could I forget, even for a second?’

  ‘Oh, Julia.’

  I wanted to touch her arm, put a hand on her shoulder, do something to show empathy, an attempt at comfort.

  But I sat there, a useless bloke not knowing what to do or say.

  ‘You probably think I should let it go,’ she said, shattering the silence. ‘My daughter drowned. Move on. She’s not going to come back.’

  ‘I don’t . . .’

  Julia got up and went to the window. It was grim outside again. White mist hung over the distant trees, turning them into ghostly silhouettes. Julia stared into the mist as if she expected – or hoped – to see Lily emerge from it. Her little girl, back from the dead.

  ‘What did the police say?’ I asked. ‘They must have searched for her . . .’ According to Olly the cab driver and the news reports, the river had been swarming with police. But Julia’s face told a different story.

  ‘They gave up almost immediately,’ she said. ‘The investigation is supposedly still open, but I haven’t heard anything for over a year. Nobody is actively working on it. They gave up within weeks because they were convinced she drowned.’

  ‘But you . . . are convinced she didn’t?’

  Her gaze was intense. ‘They would have found her body. I’m sure of it.’

  ‘Not necessarily.’

  She shook her head. ‘I can’t believe that she would have been swept along the river that quickly when Big Cat was still there.’

  ‘What do you think happened?’

  She didn’t hesitate. ‘Somebody took her. He was waiting, beyond the trees. Maybe he’d spotted us walking along the path. It could have been opportunistic. Or maybe he followed us there, hoping for a chance to take Lily. A chance we gave him by lagging behind, by not watching her properly.’

  In her head,
she was back by the river, perhaps imagining a Sliding Doors moment, a different path.

  ‘I think someone was following us,’ she said.

  I studied her. ‘What makes you say that?’

  ‘Just . . . It seems beyond even my bad luck that a predator just happened to be out there that day, that he made a decision and acted so quickly. And it’s not just that. In the days leading up to Lily’s disappearance I had this feeling . . . that we were being watched.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Just . . . Have you ever had that sensation? That there are eyes on you, but when you turn round there’s nobody there?’

  I nodded. I knew that sensation well.

  ‘I still feel like that now,’ she said. ‘All the time. I think I can see Lily in my peripheral vision, just standing there, watching me. But when I turn, no matter how quickly I move, trying to catch her out, she’s never there.’

  I understood. I’d had the same sensation, with Priya.

  ‘What else did the police do?’ I asked. ‘Apart from dragging the river, I mean?’

  ‘I don’t know exactly. They looked in the surrounding woods but didn’t find anything. They spoke to a few local men who are on the sex offenders register. Put out appeals for witnesses, checked road cameras. But it always felt to me like they were ticking boxes. They thought it was all a waste of time. She had to be in the river.’

  ‘Have you ever considered hiring a private investigator?’

  ‘I wanted to but . . .’ She sighed. ‘I’m skint. A couple of people started an appeal for funds to help find Lily, but it didn’t raise much. The public believed what the police said – that she’d drowned. And another child, a four-year-old girl, vanished at the same time, down in London. Do you remember? Violet something. Her dad was a politician? The press gave all their attention to her. They soon forgot all about Lily. But I’m convinced, Lucas. She’s still out there and I won’t give up hope. I can’t. It’s the only thing that keeps me going.’ She sighed. ‘I’ve taken up too much of your time. And I need to make breakfast. The others will be wondering what’s going on.’

  She stood and left the room without looking back.

  I crossed to the window. The mist was clearing slowly, bringing the world into focus. In the distance, the river wound, dull and flat, across the landscape.

  Was Julia right? Could Lily still be out there somewhere?

  Chapter 7

  LILY – 2014

  ‘Chesney! Chesneeeey!’

  Where was that stupid cat?

  Lily stood by the back door, calling and calling until she wasn’t sure what was her original voice and what was an echo. She was fascinated by echoes. When she was a little kid, like two years ago, Dad made her go trekking up Snowdon. It was boring except for the café at the top where she had an enormous hot chocolate with cream and sprinkles, and, even better, the bit where they stood at the top of the mountain and yelled, ‘Hello!’, listening to it bounce around and back again.

  But Chesney – that stupid, lovely fluff monster – wasn’t responding to her voice or its echo.

  Lily glanced behind her. Mum was working on her computer and Dad was in his study. She wasn’t supposed to go out on her own – even though she wasn’t a baby any more – but she really wanted to find Chesney.

  She slipped on her trainers and headed over to the cottage. It was locked and she didn’t think the cat could have got in there.

  She hunted around the garden, making little kissing noises and calling his name. She was getting worried now. What if he’d been run over? Megan said her cat got flattened by a car after falling asleep in the middle of the road. That was the problem with quiet places where there’s hardly any traffic. Cats think they can lie down and sleep anywhere. Lily didn’t think Chesney was that dumb, though. He was a very special cat; probably the best, cleverest cat in the world. And she loved him. Every night he slept on the end of the bed and she didn’t mind him lying across her feet so she couldn’t move. It didn’t bother her that her sheets were covered in fur and this speckly black stuff that Mum said was ‘disgusting flea dirt’.

  Sometimes, she thought, he was her best friend. She liked Megan, but Chesney was the only one she could talk to when Mum and Dad were fighting.

  Which was pretty much every day at the moment. She heard them at night when they thought she was sleeping, when she was actually under the covers with her iPad, watching her favourite YouTubers. Her mum did most of the shouting, while Dad’s voice was a low rumble she couldn’t make out. Mum was always going on about ‘drinking’ and ‘being on her own’. Another woman’s name came up a lot too, a woman who Dad worked with. Lily had asked him who Lana was once and he went white before saying it was just a woman in his office.

  Megan said her mum and dad had argued a lot too. Then they got divorced, when Megan was little. Her dad lived on his own in another town and Megan hardly ever saw him. Now the only man in Megan’s life was her grandad.

  When Lily thought about her own parents divorcing, she went colder than ice and had to squeeze Chesney really hard to stop herself from crying.

  She had reached the edge of the garden and there was still no sign of Chesney. Beyond the fence was a stretch of overgrown grass and long flowers that were probably weeds. Dandelion clocks and stinging nettles.

  Dad said there were rabbit warrens in the field, though Lily had never seen any. Maybe that’s where Chesney was now. Lying unseen in the long grass, waiting for a bunny to come hopping out of its hole. Lily didn’t believe her cat would kill a rabbit – he never brought any gross dead stuff into the house, probably because he knew Mum would freak out – but he probably liked watching them.

  Checking no grown-ups were watching, Lily climbed over the low fence into the little meadow.

  She hadn’t realised how foggy it was until she moved away from the house. The mist hung among the trees like a giant cloud, white and spooky-looking. She imagined it was cold to the touch. There was no way Lily would go into those woods on her own, especially when it was foggy like that.

  She didn’t want the Widow to get her. Not that she believed . . .

  ‘Lily!’

  She almost jumped out of her skin.

  ‘Lily, where are you?’ Her mum was starting to sound panicked now and Lily felt the urge to stay hidden. If Mum got really worried then she’d be incredibly relieved when Lily turned up, and she might give her a treat. Maybe she’d feel guilty about working and Lily would be able to persuade her to buy those Heelys she needed.

  She crouched in the grass, trying to decide what to do. Her mum’s voice grew fainter as she moved away. Lily stood up. She felt mean but was also worried that Mum might be angry with her. She walked back towards the fence – and saw a movement out of the corner of her eye. Chesney? She whirled around.

  A shape vanished into the trees and was swallowed by the fog.

  It was too big to be Chesney.

  Too big and person-shaped.

  Lily bolted, scrambling over the fence and catching her finger on a jagged piece of wood. It dug into her flesh, a splinter that brought forth a drop of blood. Ow, it really hurt and now she had tears in her eyes.

  Through the wet blur, she took another look back towards the woods. There was nothing there. Had she imagined it?

  The Widow. Opening her gigantic black mouth to call Lily’s name.

  She didn’t wait around to find out. She sprinted across the garden, calling, ‘Mum! Mummy!’

  She forgot all about the cat.

  Chapter 8

  Julia might not have been able to afford to hire a private investigator, but I could. I’d recently received another large royalty payment for Sweetmeat and had very little to spend it on.

  What would she think? Would she think I was interfering? Going too far? She’d already almost thrown me out and it would be foolish to risk that happening again, but it wouldn’t hurt to make enquiries, would it? If I got anywhere, I would tell Julia.

  That
’s what I told myself, anyway.

  When I was researching Sweetmeat, I befriended a private detective called Edward Rooney. He had been briefly famous because of his involvement in a weird case involving Romanian criminals and babies, which was why I’d contacted him. I wanted to know how he would go about tracking a missing person. He was a nice guy, haunted by the things he’d seen, but willing to help – for a fee.

  Worried that Julia might overhear me, I took my mobile to the edge of the garden.

  Edward’s assistant, Sophie, answered and transferred me across.

  ‘Lucas!’ he exclaimed. ‘Or should I say “acclaimed novelist L. J. Radcliffe”?’

  ‘I don’t know about acclaimed.’

  ‘Ah, don’t be modest, man. I read it. Bloody brilliant. So what can I do for you?’

  I explained that I was helping out a friend and was hoping to get some advice. Then I detailed everything I knew about Lily’s disappearance and the subsequent investigation.

  ‘The police have given up, apparently, convinced Lily drowned. But Julia doesn’t believe they did everything they could to find her, that they gave up too easily. She can’t afford to hire someone so I offered to help out.’

  I cleared my throat. It was a white lie.

  It was quiet on Edward’s end of the line. Eventually, he said, ‘You should save your money.’

  ‘Why do you say that?’

  ‘Because in cases like this, when it involves kids, the police always pull out all the stops. Especially if the parents are nice and middle-class. I don’t think an investigator would be able to find out any more than the police did, and it’s just going to stir up all the hope in your friend’s heart again.’

  I thought about it. ‘But if we can set Julia’s mind at rest, so she knows the police explored every avenue . . .’

  He sighed. ‘All right. You’re not going to let this go, are you?’

  ‘I don’t want to.’

  ‘Okay. Look, I’m busy at the moment. There’s no way I can schlep all the way to Wales. But I do know someone who lives in Telford, just across the border. Let me text you her number.’