‘This is her card,’ he said, grabbing one from the pile on the window sill. ‘Her cleaning business on the side … she got a load printed.’ He grabs a pen and writes on the back. ‘I’ll give you my number, too. Let me know if you hear from her.’ He hands it to me. ‘And let me know if you change your mind,’ he says, winking at me.
So that’s where Jason gets it from.
‘Thanks,’ I say, not wanting to antagonise him.
I open the door myself and close it behind me, relieved to get out of there.
I carry Denise’s card in my hands all the way home. I can’t lose it. It’s not like Denise to be gone for the whole night. But Jim’s right: seventeen years is plenty of time to change.
When I step inside my hall, the telephone starts to ring. I almost dive on it.
‘Denise, is that you?’
‘No. It’s Luke from the—’
‘Oh, Luke. I can’t find Denise.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘I’ve just been round to her house. Her husband said she didn’t come home last night – he’s checked all the hospitals.’
‘Do you think she might be with Jason somewhere?’
‘Maybe, but I didn’t think they went anywhere together these days. Not that I’d know much about that.’ I lean against the wall. I can’t think straight; there’s a nauseous feeling in my stomach that’s not going away, and I don’t think it’s my nerves. ‘Do you think she’ll be all right?’
‘I hope so.’
‘Why did you call?’ I say. I can’t stand here chatting all day.
‘I wanted to know if … Has Craig got a new car – a Renault Clio?’
‘He hasn’t got a car. I’d know if he had a car, wouldn’t I?’
‘I was just checking. I saw him early this morning—’
‘Early? It doesn’t sound like Craig, then. He hasn’t been getting up before ten since …’
Since I can’t remember when. When did he last sleep here – was it Saturday? It can’t have been that long ago.
‘Erica!’ shouts Luke. Why is he shouting at me? ‘Listen, I saw him outside my children’s school – he was looking at me … it was as if he knew where to find us. Has he mentioned me at all?’
‘I can’t remember now. I’m so tired … too tired. I felt OK when I got up this morning, but all this is getting to me. Is there any news on that missing girl?’
He sighs down the phone; it almost hurts my ears.
‘Not that I’ve seen – and I’ve had the news on since I got into work. We’ve had no updates from the police. There is talk, though, that this isn’t the first time Leanne has run away. They seem to think she’ll come back of her own accord.’
‘They shouldn’t think that,’ I say. I feel breathless; I’m talking too much and need to sit. ‘I have to go, Luke.’
‘What do you mean: They shouldn’t think that?’ he says. ‘If you’ve got information that’ll help find Leanne, then you have to say.’
‘I only meant that … I’m worried about history repeating itself.’
‘Erica, what do you know? What has Craig told you?’
‘Nothing about Leanne. I’m always the last to know. Will you let me know if you hear anything?’
‘Erica, please—’
‘You’ll let me know?’
‘Yes.’ He sighs.
I replace the handset, thinking that he probably won’t keep his word. He’ll have more important things to do than update me. But for those few moments we were chatting, it was almost like talking to a friend.
I sit on the downstairs step to catch my breath. I’m too old for this.
Craig is a stranger to me. It’s like he wants to break my heart all over again. And Jim was right. Why am I still here? I get to my feet, and shuffle back to the phone table.
I open my address book and find his number.
30
Luke
Luke spent the rest of the morning thinking about Craig Wright being outside school. He imagined seeing Megan and Alice in the distance, waving as they held the man’s hands. No matter how fast he ran, he could never reach them.
After ringing the school and, at the risk of sounding like one of those parents, reiterating that under no circumstances are they to let his children leave school without it being him or Helen picking them up, he set off to work.
He resisted passing Erica’s on the way there – he was already a few hours late as it was.
Now it’s midday, and the more he thinks about it, the more he feels it can’t have been a coincidence. He replaces the handset after speaking to Erica.
‘What’s your face like that for?’ asks Amanda, sitting opposite him.
Luke had told her about seeing Craig that morning and she’d been the only one so far not to think he was going insane.
‘I’ve just had a weird conversation with Erica Wright,’ he says. ‘She was going on about losing Denise. I asked her if Craig had mentioned me, but she couldn’t remember. I’m sure she knows more than she’s saying.’
‘What do you mean, she lost Denise?’
‘I’ve no idea. Do you think Denise has gone missing?’
‘We’re like dumb and dumber here,’ says Amanda. ‘We’ve obviously no idea. And we can’t go round there again – not when Craig followed you after we interfered the last time.’
‘She didn’t sound well.’
‘I expect she’s having a stressful few days,’ she says. ‘Son released from prison for murdering a girl, another girl seen with son goes missing. I’d say that makes for a shit week.’
Luke remains silent while he thinks.
‘Look,’ says Amanda, ‘there’s nothing we can do from here. The police will be doing what they can. You gave them the details of the vehicle Craig was driving. Plus, you didn’t see the girl with him this morning, did you? It might be Jason Bamber – or someone we don’t even know about – working alone. There’s nothing we can do but wait.’
‘Wait for another girl to turn up dead?’
‘It’s not like we can hunt them down, Luke, is it?’
‘No.’
But he knows he’ll get little work done this afternoon. As soon as it gets to three o’clock, he’s going to wait outside the school until his children are out and safe.
Luke feels calmer now that Megan and Alice are safely tucked up in bed. He’s set up his laptop in his small office upstairs so he can keep an eye on them.
‘Not on the beer tonight?’ Helen shouts from their bedroom.
She’s trying on yet another black dress for a work do. Luke’s positive she hadn’t mentioned it before. She’s done her hair too; it’s up in a twist, with bits hanging round her face. Luke hasn’t seen her dressed up for months.
‘I need to keep a clear head,’ he says.
‘So what do you think of this one?’ Helen says from the landing.
‘Looks great,’ says Luke, thinking it looked exactly the same as the last one. ‘Who’s leaving again? And since when did going out for an office party on a school night become a thing?’
‘Eh?’ she says, slipping her feet into two-inch heels. ‘What are you talking about?’
‘Just someone I spoke to yesterday at work. Jenna Threlfall’s sister was having her Christmas party on a weekday. Anyway.’ Luke waves his hand, batting the subject away. ‘Do you remember she had a sister?’
‘I don’t remember much about Jenna, let alone her sister.’
‘What time will you be back?’
‘No idea. I’m not working till six tomorrow night, so it might be a late one.’ She kisses the top of his head. ‘You’ll hardly notice me gone, Luke,’ she says. ‘You’ve barely spoken to me in days. You’ve become obsessed with that case. You know you’re not some kind of detective.’
‘I’m not obsessed. It’s giving me a focus. Last month you said I’d lost my drive, now you’re complaining because I found it.’
‘Hopefully that girl will come home safe and everything
can get back to normal.’
‘Her name’s Leanne.’
‘Bye, love,’ she whispers loudly from the top of the stairs.
He rushes to the landing.
‘I was in the middle of talking to you!’
She stops halfway down the steps, turning around slowly.
‘You will wake the kids,’ she hisses.
‘So? What do you care?’ He shouts, knowing that the volume will piss her off even more. ‘You’re hardly ever here – and when you are, you take no notice of me.’
‘Have you heard yourself?’ She’s leaning towards him, her eyes narrow. ‘I hardly ever go out for actual fun. In case you hadn’t realised, when I am out all hours, I’m bloody working!’ She turns and stomps down the rest of the stairs. She stops as she reaches for the door handle, looking up at Luke. ‘We can talk about this tomorrow.’
The door slams shut. She didn’t bloody care about waking the children then, did she? Luke is shaking. What’s wrong with her? Can’t she see how much it hurts him to be dismissed all the time?
Luke hadn’t heard a cab waiting for her outside. Did she actually mention where she was going? Fuck it. Helen’s a grown woman – she can look after herself.
He briefly checks on the girls before returning to his office, slumping onto his chair. After a few deep breaths, he turns to face his computer.
Luke clicks on Olivia Threlfall’s email and scrolls through the pictures she sent him. He stops when he comes to one that’s obviously been scanned – the photo is slightly bent in the top right corner. It’s one of Jenna that Luke hasn’t seen before. In it, Olivia is sitting on her older sister’s knee. Jenna has her arms wrapped around her sister; their heads are level, with Olivia’s long brown hair resting on Jenna’s shoulders.
Luke can’t stop thinking about what happened today. He thought that Craig was alone in the car, but who knew. Maybe Alan Lucas – who might not even be his father – is an accomplice and was with the girl that morning.
And what about Jason? Have the police asked him questions in connection with Leanne Livesey? Rebecca Savage said she saw Craig Wright with Jenna, but he also remembers her parting words to him: We’ve had this hanging over our head for years. I want it to go away. It would’ve been better to have said ‘I just wanted the truth out there’ or something. Maybe it’s not Erica who’s lying after all.
But Luke can’t speculate in his articles about Leanne Livesey and Jenna Threlfall. If he’s honest, he’s a bit fed up of thinking about Craig Wright. He must research the facts.
31
Leanne
He left me on my own. He said it would be fun.
But it’s not.
I really trusted him. I’d written all those letters, told him everything about me, and for what? Nothing.
This room is rank. It’s like one of those places you see on those reality crime shows where someone’s been murdered, but all that’s left are the stains. Franny McPhee loved those types of programmes. When I couldn’t sleep sometimes, I’d go downstairs. She said I shouldn’t watch them, but I told her I’d only watch them on my iPad anyway.
She forgot that I didn’t have an iPad.
People don’t remember the little things about you when they don’t really care. They never do. Mum remembered, before. When she cared. She used to record Made in Chelsea for me when I wasn’t in – without me even asking. When I was feeling down about something, she’d make me cheese on toast with pepperoni on it.
I just want someone to know that I only drink a milky coffee when there’s half a sugar in it, or that sometimes, in the morning, it takes me five minutes to come round and to actually speak. I want someone to know that, when I care about them, then I’ll always have their back.
But what if it ends here, in this shitty, stinking room?
I’ve never felt so alone. And that’s making me think too much, you see.
I thought he cared about me. But everyone’s the same, aren’t they? They all want something. They probably think I’m stupid.
Now, I’m sitting on a sofa that’s probably been here for years, covered in stains from people that might be dead.
I’m so cold, and it’s so dark in here. The electricity’s not working and there are no candles.
I pull my knees towards my chest and wrap my arms around them, as though I were hugging someone else.
32
Erica
I’d only intended to have a short rest on the settee, but I slept all night. I kept the twenty-four-hour news station on and briefly woke at midnight and again at three in the morning, but there was nothing about Leanne.
I’m so exhausted. I can’t tell if it’s from the pain or the worry. It’s February – surely it can’t be this hot outside; I’m drenched in sweat.
I hadn’t expected Craig home – he hasn’t stayed here in days. I pray to God that he’s not done something stupid. Perhaps he’s taken her somewhere nice – she probably hasn’t had a holiday in a few years.
Why am I thinking this? Of course he won’t have whisked her away on some jaunt. I’m doing it again. My head’s in the clouds, not wanting to see what’s right in front of me: the truth about my son.
I can’t move from the settee. Perhaps if I take two or more of these pills, then I can close my eyes and never wake up. I’ve never been that brave, though. Never had the courage to end it all. I feel too ashamed about what I’ve done. And I’ve done it for nothing. Everyone else was right and I was wrong.
I wish I could go back to the day everything changed – the day my mother died. If she were here, then everything wouldn’t have turned out like this. She would’ve been there for me, helped me bring up Craig so I wouldn’t have made the same mistakes.
It was a few days before she died that she noticed there was something not right.
‘You’ve not used your monthly supplies in the bathroom,’ she said. ‘I bought you some more and the others are still there.’
I used to like that I never had to worry about things like that – perhaps that was my laziness, but right then I hated that she knew things that were so personal to me when I wanted to hide everything.
I was sitting against my bedroom door, wrapped in my quilt and reading a book to take my mind off a problem I didn’t know how to fix.
‘I bought my own, Mum,’ I said.
‘You did what? You didn’t buy those tampon things, did you? You’re not married yet, you shouldn’t be using objects like that.’
I pulled my quilt closer around me. Who called tampons ‘objects’? She had silly euphemisms for everything.
‘You’ve not been out gallivanting, have you?’ she said. ‘Pamela Valentine said she saw you and Denise’s Jim driving past her on the high street. I don’t want you to get a name for yourself. You’re a good girl, Erica.’
‘Pamela Valentine’s a nosy old cow,’ I said, the strongest words my mother would allow.
‘She’s younger than I am, Erica,’ said Mother. I heard a noise behind the door, like she was sitting down against it. ‘I know you think you know everything, that I’ve never been young, and I’ve always been this old, but I’m only looking out for you. I wouldn’t want you making the same mistakes I did.’
So this was where we were going to have this conversation, I thought. Divided by a door, like a priest and a sinner in a confessional box.
‘He’s been giving me a lift when I finish at five,’ I said. ‘Denise gave him earache about leaving me at the bus stop.’
‘Well, so long as that’s all it is. I wouldn’t want you to get into trouble.’
While we were being so open about things, I chanced a question I’d always wanted to know the answer to.
‘Do you know where my dad is now?’ I said.
There was silence behind me. Were those few words all I was going to get from her?
‘No,’ she said quietly. ‘The last I heard, he got divorced and moved to Scotland.’
‘Divorced? He married again?’
/> She started drumming her fingers on the carpet – she always fidgeted when she was thinking.
‘No, Erica,’ was all she said before I heard her get up from the floor.
When I heard her go down the stairs, I realised that the conversation was finished. It was the last serious discussion we would have. She didn’t question my lack of periods again, so I made sure to take the supplies she bought me and hide them.
I had misunderstood what she said, back then, about my father. I didn’t think about it much afterwards; I had too many other, more important things to worry about. I hear her words now, as clear as I did then: ‘He got divorced.’ Why would she say that if she’d meant he ended their own marriage? She’d have said we divorced.
She lied. She hadn’t married my father at all.
I pick up the remote control from the floor and turn the television off.
I put my hand underneath the settee and bring out my folder. All the pictures I’ve collected. There’s a cottage that has views of Lake Windermere. The photo I cut from the holiday brochure shows it covered in snow. It’s truly beautiful. I could spend the day reading, making hot chocolate. Maybe I could even write my own stories – I’ve often dreamed of doing that.
My brother, Philip, assured me that the money would be in my account today. An advance that he’d deduct from the house sale, of course – he never was the generous type. He sounded surprised to hear from me last night; it wasn’t that late.
‘What do you want this time, Erica?’ he said, sounding as weary as he always does with me.
‘Good to speak to you, too, Philip,’ I said. ‘I wanted to take you up on your offer of arranging everything, but I might need some money to get away for a while. Just until everything’s finalised.’
He sighed in the way he always did, like he was being strangled.
‘Right you are. Is that everything?’
‘Yes, thank you, Philip.’
I hated the way I had to talk to him, to appease him. As though I owed him something for letting me stay in the house we jointly owned. I suppose I should be grateful that he hadn’t forced me out in the first place. That surprised me, but I suppose he did owe it to me.
Only a Mother Page 20