by Emma Curtis
‘She sounds like a feisty little thing.’
‘She was. The current can be strong when the tide changes and the Dart gets sucked towards the estuary. It was pouring with rain that day. And after heavy rainfall it can rise suddenly and become much more dangerous.’
‘How far downriver was she found?’
‘About a mile. She … She was caught on a fallen tree.’
The image is so unbearably sad that my throat constricts as I try to hold back the tears. Izzy Wells wasn’t much older than Lottie. I wipe my eyes and blow my nose on a tissue I find in my pocket. ‘Why do you think she came down here?’
Anna looks away. ‘There could be any number of reasons. She was bored. She wanted to prove something. Someone upset her.’
Nick? I wonder about that, but I can’t imagine it.
I don’t want to leave the spot I’m standing on. There is a strange force keeping me here, weighting my feet to the wet earth. I think about Izzy taking off her shoes and wading in, getting out of her depth, the currents wrapping around her slim child’s body and dragging her down and along. It must have been terrifying. Is that what happened to Nick?
I turn and start walking, back into the woods, away from the peaceful sound of rushing water, a beautiful sound that once tempted a thirteen-year-old girl to jump in on a wet summer’s day. I stop, and Anna almost collides with me.
‘But if it was pouring with rain,’ I say, ‘why would Izzy go swimming? Why not wait until the sun came out? What was so important?’
‘I don’t know,’ Anna snaps. ‘Don’t you think I’ve asked myself that question a thousand times?’
She stomps ahead of me, and I run to catch up as she crosses the lawn back to the house. Then she holds me, pressing her cheek against mine.
‘Sorry. I’m sorry. This is so hard for me.’
‘I know, Anna. I understand.’
I don’t care what she did as a teenager, I’m not going to judge her for that – I can’t pretend I was a model citizen myself at that age – I care what happened two weeks ago, when my boyfriend crossed her path for the first time in eighteen years. I care about the earthquake I’m certain she and her brother caused.
GRACE
Thursday, 26 April 2018
‘YOU DON’T MIND IF I CARRY ON, DO YOU?’ MRS Burrows says as Anna and I unwrap the lunch we bought at a service station on the way. ‘The family are coming down for the bank holiday. The place has been locked up since Easter. I have masses to do.’
‘We won’t be long. I want Anna to show me the house, if you don’t mind.’
‘I don’t mind in the slightest. I like to have people about the place.’
Anna goes first, and I follow her up a narrow flight of white-painted stairs. The treads are bare and scuffed, worn down by countless feet. There is a lovely, warm, lived-in feel about this house. It is entirely without pretensions. Beautiful objects rub shoulders with bits of tat, stuff that the children made, stuff that means something, recalls a particular moment in time. What a lovely, privileged upbringing those children had. A far cry from mine where nothing of value was bought or kept, where promises were only made to be neglected and broken. I shake the past off my shoulders and focus on why I’m here.
‘When you told me about Nick and Izzy’s relationship, about it becoming a bit blurred around the edges, you meant something, didn’t you?’
‘It was a throwaway remark.’
‘Nothing is throwaway. You implied they were closer than they should have been.’
She turns and looks down at me. ‘It was a feeling, you know, that he felt guilty about something.’
‘Like what? Is there something you’re not telling me? Please, Anna. This could be important.’
‘There’s nothing. As you say, he’s a good man. He wouldn’t deliberately hurt anyone.’
‘So you think he did hurt her? But that it was accidental?’
‘It’s a possibility, surely? We don’t know what happened. Maybe we never will. All of us feel guilty to some extent. I failed her. I have to live with that.’
‘I’m sorry.’
‘It doesn’t matter,’ she says brusquely. ‘We all failed her one way or another.’
What do I really feel about this woman? I’ve only known her a short time, and yet here we are, part of each other’s emotional experience, her head full of what happened eighteen years ago, mine full of what’s happening now. We’ve both experienced loss, but she’s accustomed to hers, while I wear mine like someone else’s clothes.
She takes me into an attic room furnished with twin beds. She sits down on the end of one of them, and I sit on the other. The room is long and narrow and has skylights either side of a pitched roof and a small window at each end. The windowsills are scattered with the carcasses of long-dead insects; flies on their backs with their tiny legs in the air. Sun-shredded curtains hang from yellowed curtain wire. There’s a camp bed folded up against the wall. It smells strange, not just of dust and damp, but of human occupation. Maybe the twins still use it. Or their kids, if they have them. Whatever, the place needs airing.
Anna sees me wrinkle my nose. ‘It’s not exactly five-star luxury, but Pansy, Freya and I always had this room; it’s the furthest away from the adults.’
‘Did Nick ever come up here?’
She looks down at her hands. ‘No. He was banned. I’ll show you his room. Come on.’
The room where Nick slept was on the first floor, down a corridor and round into the north wing. It’s large and chilly, but a lot cleaner and better cared for than the attic room and it doesn’t have that musty smell. Anna stands in the doorway while I look around. I inspect the bookshelf, wondering if Nick found solace in books that summer. They are a mixture: crime and young adult, classic and chick lit. Coincidentally, one of them is the thriller Nick was reading when he left. It’s still beside our bed in London. I pick it up and run my thumb over the cover. It’s dusty.
‘Their friends leave books behind when they come to stay,’ Anna says. ‘That’s nice, don’t you think?’
I picture Nick finding respite in here during the day while the others were outside having a jolly time together. He’d have been lonely and angry, wondering what the hell he’d done to offend his friend, why she had set out to humiliate and isolate him. Anna must have been a gorgeous teenager, all pouting lips and batting eyelashes. Even while she hurt him, she would have expected his allegiance, his adoration. Has she changed that much? I’m not sure. No one really changes; we learn to moderate our behaviour, but it’s still our behaviour.
She takes the book out of my hand and puts it back where we found it. ‘I’ll show you where he hid that afternoon.’
I look back once before I leave the room, and I see my love lying on the bed, his hands locked behind his head, staring up at the ceiling. I feel his presence so sharply, I almost gasp.
Why didn’t you talk to me about any of this?
The house is a rabbit warren with separate wings and additions built across four centuries. There are three sets of stairs: the grand central staircase, with its deep oak skirting on which are displayed all sorts of odd things – stuffed birds, pieces of sculpture, an ostrich egg, clay objects created by children. Another smaller staircase leads from the linen room up to the attic. The narrow, painted servants’ stairs that I’d noticed earlier climb from the snug up to a shadowy corner of the first floor, and this is where Anna leads me. On the bend, there’s a door about three feet high. Anna opens it and leans in to flick a switch and a low wattage bulb floods the nook with yellow light. She stands back so that I can see inside.
Planks have been laid loosely over joists and there’s a collection of bunched-up carrier bags containing yellowing papers pushed into the corner. Abandoned spiders’ webs hang between bare rafters, blanketed in dust.
‘It’s the first place I’d look for someone,’ I say.
‘That didn’t matter. Nick knew that if anyone found him they’d ignore him. Except Iz
zy,’ she adds. ‘My sister was in here with him.’
‘With him? How do you know that, if she went missing while the rest of you were hiding?’
Anna scowls and her tone is defensive. ‘I found her, OK? She was upset. She told me. Then she said she was going to hide again and ran off. It was the last time I saw her.’
I try to put things together in my head. The bullying of Nick. The child running out into the rain. The motivation she might have had. And what about the other stuff that was going on?
‘What about Tim?’
‘What about him?’ Anna replies. Her fingers move to her hair, combing into it above her right ear and pressing into her scalp.
‘Well.’ I start again. ‘Is this where it happened? Is this where he seduced you?’
‘I wish I hadn’t told you that.’
‘But you did. Was it?’
‘No. That was later, when we were back in London.’
‘But this is where it started, though, wasn’t it? You developed a crush and he noticed you. Consequently, your little sister felt as neglected and left out as Nick did.’
Her eyes darken and she stands up slowly.
‘I don’t want to talk about this.’
‘I didn’t mean to upset you. I’m just trying to work out what might have been going through Izzy’s head.’
‘Well, don’t. You don’t know anything about us.’
‘It’s what I’m here for, Anna,’ I say, exasperated. ‘I need to see and feel what Nick was going through and that means understanding Izzy too. Please don’t take it personally.’
She screws her face into an expression of scorn. ‘How am I meant to take it, then? Am I just supposed to let you play detective? You are so fucking arrogant, it’s unbelievable. I wish I hadn’t come.’
‘Anna, please …’
She glares at me, then turns and runs downstairs.
I stand for several seconds, transfixed by the space she’s left, then I go after her, skidding on the painted steps and grabbing the banister to stop myself landing on my bottom. I almost catch her in the hall as she throws the door open, but Mrs Burrows appears from one of the rooms and blocks my way.
‘Let her go,’ she says. ‘She was always one for flouncing out. It won’t last long.’
Anna’s feet pound across the hardstanding, then there’s silence as they hit grass. I watch as she marches across the lawn, Mrs Burrows beside me, a restraining hand on my arm.
We all hear the car at the same time. Anna stops in her tracks, as though she’s frozen, and my nerves leap as it comes into view. It’s the police. At last.
‘They’ll be here about the robbery,’ Mrs Burrows says.
‘What robbery?’
‘The shed. Garden burglaries are very common round here. The gardener noticed when he came this morning. It’s been broken into, and one or two things are missing.’
‘But what …’
She moves me out of the way impatiently, and strides to meet them. Anna is still standing in the middle of the lawn, looking like she’s forgotten where she was going. I walk over, and she turns to me.
‘What do they want?’
‘They’re investigating a shed burglary.’ I smile. ‘We’re not in London any more, Toto.’
‘What?’
‘Oh, nothing. I’m going to talk to them.’
I walk over purposefully. Mrs Burrows has her hands on her hips and the policeman is nodding sagely. He looks up as I approach.
‘Hi,’ I say. ‘My name is Grace Trelawney. I was wondering whether you were investigating my boyfriend’s disappearance.’
He looks at me blankly.
‘His name is Nick Ritchie. Detective Inspector Marsh from London CID will have got in touch about it. I came down expecting to find the river being searched, but there’s no one there.’
He looks like he’s barely out of college and obviously doesn’t have a clue, but he obliges me by radioing it in. I wait with Anna and Mrs Burrows. Mrs Burrows makes the occasional remark, but neither of us respond. We’re both too tense.
‘Right,’ he says to us, looking pleased that he has something positive to relay. ‘A team is coming. They’re starting tomorrow. London will be informed if anything is found.’
‘Perhaps we should show you the spot,’ Anna says.
But I don’t want to go back down there. I’ve seen the river and the mud, I’ve trodden the path and smelled the leaf rot. It’s too miserable.
‘Mrs Burrows can do that. Come on, let’s go home.’
Anna gazes at the woods longingly, then back at the house. I can feel how torn she is, how much she wants to stay, to spend more time where she last saw her sister. Her shoulders slump as she trudges towards the car.
Douglas calls when we’re about twenty minutes outside London. The Bluetooth picks it up.
‘Hey, where are you?’ he says.
‘On the M4.’
‘Really? Where’ve you been?’
‘To Devon.’ I glance at Anna, but she’s politely looking out of her window. ‘I’ve got a friend with me, Douglas. What do you want?’
‘Just catching up. Who’s with you?’
‘A friend,’ I repeat.
‘Hello, Grace’s friend.’
Anna turns her head with a grimace. ‘Hello.’
‘I would have come with you, if I’d known that’s what you wanted to do, Grace. You should have called.’ His voice is pleasant, but I sense a hint of disapproval in his tone.
‘We went to a place where Nick spent some time when he was younger. Anna knows the area.’
‘Anna?’
‘I’ve told you about her. You’ve met her, remember?’
‘Oh, Kai’s mum. That Anna.’
It’s a bit like knowing owners by their dogs.
‘Douglas, can we not have this conversation here. I’ll speak to you later.’
‘Wait,’ he says. ‘Don’t hang up. Anna. I understand you used to know Nick.’
Anna glances at me.
Sorry, I mouth. I don’t remember telling him but I must have. My mind has been all over the place.
‘Yes I did,’ she says.
‘Well, it’s very kind of you to help Grace, but I don’t think you should be getting involved. This is a police matter. Grace shouldn’t be there, and you definitely shouldn’t.’
‘I didn’t want to come,’ she says sharply.
‘It’s not your fault. I know how manipulative Grace can be.’
‘Goodbye, Douglas.’ I touch the screen and end the call.
‘Why do you let him get away with that?’ Anna asks.
‘It’s the way he is. He seems to still think he owns me, even though we haven’t been together for years. He’s never really accepted that I can love someone else after him. Big ego.’
‘Has he had other girlfriends since you split up?’
‘Yes, several, but they never seem to stick. He gets bored and starts finding fault and then he dumps them. Douglas isn’t capable of truly loving a woman. There are always conditions. It’s exhausting.’
‘Maybe he hasn’t found the right person.’
I glance at her and smile. ‘That’s the kind way of looking at it.’
GRACE
Monday, 30 April 2018
MONDAY. ANOTHER WEEK TO GET THROUGH. MORE questions to ask, more reality to accept. Anna, I think, as I get dressed. Anna, Anna, Anna. If Devon told me anything, it’s that she’s damaged. But is Nick’s disappearance her fault, or merely collateral damage from that summer? And where does Tim feature?
Lottie and I spent a lot of time with Cassie and Evan over the weekend, urged by our friends to treat their home as a sanctuary. The Morgans live in a modest semi-detached 1930s house on a busy road on the less expensive side of the Common. It’s light and bright and has an enormous garden and I actually think they have more fun over here, where there’s less pressure to conform than in my exclusive enclave. We arrived at twelve o’clock on Saturday for lunch and d
idn’t leave until eight o’clock that evening, and then we went to Richmond Park with them on Sunday. I didn’t much like leaving Tim and Cora to their own devices, but I reasoned that if they wanted to pry, they’d had ample opportunity.
After spending Friday with Anna, particularly those eight hours in the car with her, it was such a relief to be amongst people that I trust, and who know me. Lottie was happy too, because she had Hannah all to herself. When the girls were out of the room the only topic of conversation was Nick. I didn’t mind; it was good to have friends to chew it over with. When I told them about Anna’s connection Evan’s eyebrows shot up.
‘God, that is weird, isn’t it? I mean, there is no way the two things aren’t related. I can’t believe the police aren’t taking it more seriously.’
‘It still doesn’t explain what happened.’
‘Well, obviously, she scared him. For her to come back after so many years, accusing him of doing I don’t know what to her sister …’
‘He didn’t do anything. You know he didn’t.’
‘I never said he did,’ Evan said, back-pedalling. ‘There’s no way he would. I know Nick. He’s a good guy.’
‘Anna denies that they talked about it. She says it was just a chat about her moving here.’
‘Oh, come on, Grace. You don’t really believe that, do you?’
‘No,’ I said quietly.
Evan leaned back in his chair and laced his fingers behind his head. ‘But something happened all those years ago. And whatever it is must have gone very deep. Maybe it’s PTSD?’
‘That’s what I’ve been thinking,’ Cassie said. ‘You know, what with his nightmares and everything.’
I had a large glass of wine in front of me. I picked it up and swirled it slowly. ‘I know you’re right,’ I said. ‘But I refuse to believe that Nick has done anything wrong. He’s honest and gentle and he just wouldn’t.’
‘Of course he wouldn’t.’
Cassie took the glass out of my hand and set it down on the table. I hadn’t realized how much I was trembling.