by Ruth Harrow
At the checkout, there is a promotional rack of cheap sim cards. I find Will's words filling my head and I pick one up. Deep down I know my husband is right about cutting myself off from the messages appearing from April's phone.
When we pull into the driveway of the house, I manage to reach Dad's holdall first and insists I carry it so I don't feel entirely useless.
As I open the front door, I am greeted by the sight of Eva sitting on the bottom step of the stairs. A wave of dread rushes over me when I see her red, tear-streaked face.
'Eva? What's the matter?'
'It's Dad,' she sobs, looking up at me with her watery hazel eyes. 'The police came and arrested him.'
'What?' I drop Dad's bag beside the door. 'When did this happen?'
'Earlier, after you left to get Granddad.' She wipes her face with the back of her hand. 'He left you a note on the fridge before they took him away.'
I move through to the kitchen and slide a piece of hastily torn paper from beneath a York Cathedral magnet I gave to Dad years ago when I first moved there.
I open it up and read hurriedly.
Hannah – the police have picked me up and I'm being taken to the station to have a talk with them. Don't worry. Remember what is important. I will take care of this.
The afternoon seems to drag by. More than once, I get up, phone in hand ready to dial the Telford police station. But then I remember Will's instruction to leave it up to him. I have to blink away tears as I reread my husband's writing.
Never have I felt more alone than I do now. At least when the Wakefield incident was unfolding I had April by my side, even if she was unwilling to talk about it. Now I have no one. I can't talk to Eva about this; I wonder what she thinks of her father being taken away in a police car. She disappeared upstairs shortly after I got back with Dad and every time I check on her she is glued to her phone as usual, although she doesn't seem to be chatting to her friends.
My father keeps grilling me about Will's arrest. I tell him I know no more than he does, that the police are making a routine enquiry and Will is being questioned purely because he visited Reg so unusually late in the evening such a short time before his death. Dad is dissatisfied with this explanation and falls quiet only to lament over it again every hour or so.
I keep finding excuses to leave the room, whether to use the bathroom or to make a drink. At one point, I find myself gripping the cold steel of the sink in the kitchen, taking deep breaths to steady myself; I desperately need to get out of this house.
In the evening, Dad and I argue about who should make dinner. He tells me he doesn't want to be treated like an invalid because of his accident, but I insist on preparing something for us to eat; I urgently want to do something useful with my hands other than twisting or wringing them. I tell him I need to distract myself. In the end, my father relents.
'I just don't understand why they have come up with Will,' Dad says as we sit down to the cottage pie I have deliberately taken a long time to prepare.
I take a deep breath and concentrate on forking peas into the mashed potato.
'Hannah, remind me again why they think Will is a suspect? He's only been back in the village for two minutes, for goodness sake!'
I glance across at Eva who looks red-eyed again. 'Dad, can we not talk about it any more, please.'
Dad follows my gaze and falls quiet. Just then the doorbell rings.
I drop my fork with a clatter and rush to the front door. It must be Will. He must have forgotten his key when he left earlier.
My heart sinks when I am met with Penny's round face. She clutches a tall gift bag in her hand.
'Hannah, Love.' She moves swiftly forward and pulls me into an unfeeling hug. Harsh perfume fills my nostrils and I am glad when she releases me and steps over the threshold without my invitation.
'I'm so sorry to hear about Will,' she says tilting her head sympathetically to one side.
'What have you heard?'
'Well, he has been arrested hasn't he?'
'Yes, but how would you know that?'
'Oh.' She has the decency to look a little embarrassed, but the moment is only fleeting. 'Hazel from the supermarket told me. She saw him being driven away.'
'I see.'
Dad was right. Nothing is private in this place. The feeling of claustrophobia presses in on my chest again.
'Don't worry, Hannah. I'm sure the truth will come out in the end.'
I look up at Penny in time to catch an odd look, but then she fixes a bright smile upon her face and lifts the shiny gift bag up. 'I brought a little something for Tony. Is he in the dining room?'
'Yes,' I say. 'We were just sitting down to eat actually, Penny ...'
I trail off as she bustles through to the kitchen, leaving me standing alone in the darkening hallway.
'Penny!' Dad sets down his fork and pulls our uninvited guest into a one-armed hug. 'Now there is a sight for sore eyes! I would have answered the door, but apparently, I'm not allowed to do anything.'
'You need to take it easy for a few days Dad. You've just been in hospital.'
'Too much fuss about nothing. I just lost my footing and bumped my head, that's all. But because I'm over a certain age apparently I need to rest.'
He gives Penny a mischievous wink as he moves aside his plate of pie and sets down Penny's gift which makes a thud upon the table.
'You just need to look after yourself a bit more,' I say, firmly. 'I want to know you will be all right when we go home. You don't need to put so much pressure on yourself to do so much. And I don't think you should drink –'
My words fail as I watch Dad slide out a large bottle of Cabernet Sauvignon from the red bag Penny brought.
'Lovely,' he says, squinting to read the label.
'I was saving it for our dinner night on Thursday, but I thought tonight instead. As a welcome home.'
'A lovely welcome it is too, Penny. Thank you very much. That will liven dinner up a bit. Take a seat and join us – you haven't eaten yet, have you? A shame you didn't come around earlier, it would have spiced up this sauce a bit. It's a little dry, Hannah. Never mind, though. I can find a good home for it.'
He moves aside the glass of cranberry juice I set out for him as Penny helps herself to glasses from a cupboard.
I sit back in my place and watch Dad pour the crimson liquid into his and Penny's glass. 'Would you like to try a bit too, Eva?'
'Certainly not,' I say, firmly. 'Dad, I think you should take the drink a bit easier. It isn't good for you. You had quite a bit the night before your fall.'
Dad takes a large gulp and chortles. 'Can you hear my daughter, Penny? Once they see you are getting on a bit, a little stumble becomes a “fall”. You watch out for David doing that to you in a few years time. Makes you feel like a real artefact, it does.'
Penny giggles as she dollops cottage pie onto the plate she fetched herself and I return to my food, heat rising in my cheeks. I try to keep my fork steady as I eat without tasting a thing.
When the pair retire to the living room with Eva in tow, I am left to do the dishes alone. In a way, I am glad of the task. I'm also glad to be out of Penny's company.
As I fill the sink, my eyes fall upon the bottle of wine and I tip the remaining half of it into the stream of flowing water until it all runs clear.
If Dad hadn't been drinking he wouldn't have ended up in the hospital. Will, Eva and I would have left the village already. I wouldn't have come back to find Will gone, arrested.
Tomorrow, when Penny isn't around, I will have words with him over his alcohol consumption. He can't afford to have accidents at his age.
Maybe that is why this is all happening? Maybe I am supposed to talk some sense into Dad while I am here before he makes a fatal mistake?
When the dishes are done, I find work in wiping and disinfecting the already-clean kitchen, leaving the others talking and joking without me in the living room.
Twilight falls as I wipe the cupboard
door handles, and a flashing notification light on my phone causes me to drop the cloth and rush over. I haven't checked my phone since I was cooking dinner. Will must have tried to contact me and I've missed it.
Before I snatch up my phone, my heart is already pounding, but the beats seem to skip to the next level when I see the name upon the screen.
April.
It is another text message from her phone.
Your precious husband is in trouble now, isn't he? Why didn't you heed my warnings, Hannah? After all, your big sister knows best. Don't you remember I told you he was no good?
The truth will have to come out soon ...
33
I wake alone the next day and the first thing I do is check my phone. No new messages. No missed calls. Shouldn't Will have tried to call me, at least? I'm sure he would have been allowed to. How dare he leave me to stew like this?
I scroll through and again read the new message from April's phone. It must have been sent just before I finished cooking dinner, but as far as I can tell it was before Penny arrived.
Or is that just clouded judgement? Perhaps I am jumping to conclusions. I didn't check what time it was when we sat down to eat. I just can't be sure. PC Hayward's questions made me realise I don't pay attention to the time as much as I should.
The sound of pots and pans in the kitchen causes me to get up and dress quickly. The air is so warm in the bedroom already that I slip on the thinnest blouse I have. Pushing the windows wide open does little to cool the room. The mugginess persists through the blazing sunshine that burns down on my skin as soon as I draw the curtains.
It is another cloudless day, but I barely notice. I try not to look too far into the distance so as to not see the woods.
Downstairs Dad is preparing a full breakfast. The heat from an array of cooking hits me as I enter the room. Plates of Sausages, fried bread and mushrooms already sit on the table oozing grease. A pan of bacon and eggs splatters away on the stove.
My stomach churns. I was hoping for some of the cool yogurt and chilled kiwi fruit that I filled the fridge with yesterday.
'Morning,' Dad says over his shoulder, as I enter the room.
'Good morning.'
I sit myself down and pour myself some coffee as Dad sets another plate on the table, this time with hot-from-the-oven hash browns. Sweat prickles the skin between my breasts and I look up to see Dad's cheeks are ruddy and flushed.
'Dad, sit down,' I say. 'Let me help you. I think it's going to be a hot day.'
'I'm almost finished now.'
I see the windows are already wide open, both in the kitchen and the conservatory. Dad looks over at me and seems to read my thoughts.
'It's even worse out there in that sun, Hannah. And it's not even nine o'clock yet. It's best we eat inside, I think this morning. You heard anything yet?'
'Not yet,' I say, taking some of the least oily-looking mushrooms and placing them on my plate.
Dad looks at me as he places a crispy fried egg on my plate. 'I've been checking the landline all morning. No new calls or messages. Why do you think Will hasn't been in touch yet? Do you think you ought to call up the police station, see what's going on?'
'Dad drop it. I told you already, Will is just answering their questions.'
'But when will he get out? He is allowed a phone call, isn't he? We are being left completely in the dark here.'
I shake my head. 'I looked it up yesterday – there is only so long they can hold him for. He will be back soon, I'm sure.'
'I don't know where you get your patience from, Hannah. If I was you, I would have strong words with Will when he gets back.'
I feel Dad's eyes on my face and I concentrate hard on filling up my plate with food that I have no desire to eat.
Luckily, Eva appears shortly afterwards and I busy myself pouring her cold orange juice and preparing a plate for her too as she bombards me with the same questions.
Later on in the afternoon, any remaining shade in the garden vanishes and we remain trapped in the warm house, curtains pulled over here and there to block out the sun which makes the room look dull. We kept the windows open behind the thick fabric in the hope of tempting a breeze.
The setup puts me in mind of that summer when April and I were children in this house. The summer Paige Wakefield went missing. Out of the corner of my eye, Eva's cascade of amber hair that obscures her face as she hunches over her phone makes me think April might be in the room with me. But when she glances up to give me a searching look with her hazel eyes (as she has done all morning) the spell is broken.
Dad rummages around and finds a noisy, yellowed old desk fan in the loft which he sets up in the lounge. It succeeds in cooling down the air a little but means that not one of us can hear the television or each other very well, leaving me feeling both isolated and claustrophobic at the same time.
There is no getting away. My phone is in my hand, ready for Will's contact. My ears are primed in case he simply shows up at the house. I checked last night – his keys are missing. He must have taken them with him after all.
I can't help but feel some form of unwilling resentment towards my father. Had he not had his accident, I would be at home now with my husband and daughter. Would the police really have sent forces pursuing Will to our home in York to question him? Or would they simply have selected someone else to interrogate instead?
Dad takes charge of lunch, serving us generously with the leftover cottage pie from last night. I wish now that I'd made something lighter for dinner. My stomach protests as I finish my meal and I wish I could get out of the house to walk it off. I don't want to be far away though in case Will comes back unannounced.
When the doorbell rings in the early afternoon, I immediately spring up to answer it. It can only be Will.
My face must register disappointment, as well as a great deal of shock when I see my mother on the doorstep. Paul stands beside her.
'Mum?'
'Hannah, Dear.' She pulls me into a firm hug. 'Your father told me what happened yesterday. I can't believe it.'
'I thought you were going to Cyprus?'
'Oh, we are. But we don't leave until Saturday. We're all packed and ready to go. Our suitcases are in the car so we can go to the airport straight from here. Paul and I thought it was important that we come over and give you a bit of moral support.'
Behind her, Paul nods. However, he looks decidedly uncomfortable.
'I'm sure your father isn't helping much,' Mum says. 'And besides, he has been in the wars himself hasn't he?'
If I had thought the house oppressive before, it is nothing to how it is now. Mum insists on extracting the same answers I have been repeating for the last twenty-four hours. The atmosphere between Paul and my father is awkward at best and they barely speak two words to each other. When my mother leaves the room to use the bathroom, a heavy silence falls and I stumble my way through the thinnest of small-talk.
The conversation quickly wears out, even upon Mum's return. At some point, the family photo album gets brought back out and Mum reminisces to a clearly-bored Paul about the times when April and I were children. He attempts to feign polite interest. Although, at one point, I feel his eyes linger too long on a shot of my sister and me beside a Spanish swimming pool.
A heavy silence falls when the photo album fulfils its usefulness and it is put aside again.
'So where are you staying Mum? At Ethel's bed and breakfast?'
'Oh, no,' she says, setting down a cup of tea on the table in front of her. 'Your Dad kindly offered to put us up here for a few days until we leave for Cyprus.'
My heart sinks.
'It will be nice for us to have some time with Eva, as well as be here for you in your hour of need, dear.'
'There's really no need … ' I mutter.
Mum fans herself with the newspaper she picks up from the coffee table. 'This heat is terrible, isn't it?'
Dad plants his hands down firmly on the arms of his chair. 'Te
ll you what. 'I've got a lovely bit of Cabernet Sauvignon in the fridge. There should be enough left. That will cool you down a treat. Back in a sec.'
Panic rises in my chest as Dad straightens up and ambles towards the kitchen. 'Dad – I thought the doctor said you can't drink with those painkillers she gave you?'
'She said nothing of the sort.'
'Actually – the Sauvignon is all gone.'
He pauses in the doorway and turns back to me. 'Eh? It can't be. There was half a bottle left, surely?'
His eyes bore into mine and I just can't stand to endure another disagreement.
I stand up quickly. 'Why don't I run down to the shops and see if I can get something better?'
I hurry into the hallway and slide on my shoes. My hand rests against the wall for support and my fingers brush the fine material of the abandoned blazer that still waits, lonely on its hook. Thoughts of April fill my head all of a sudden, but I shake them away.
Like myself, it has been years since my sister has set foot anywhere near the village, much less this house.
'I won't be long,' I call over my shoulder as I dash out the door, not wanting to look back.
34
Saturday 24th July 1993
There is an odd silence. The kind of feeling rises in me like just before the drop on a roller-coaster. Except it is quiet. There isn't any screaming. I feel like there should be.
I pick myself up from where I have crumpled in the footwell and scramble back onto the seat. I swallow more blood and reach up to feel my chin. The skin doesn't feel broken; it just really hurts.
Will grips the steering wheel, breathing heavily. April whimpers. The pair of them stare straight ahead. The still car headlights beam into trees ahead where the car would have been about to turn.
After a few moments, Will releases his seatbelt and steps outside. He walks gingerly around the front of the car and moves ten feet into the road ahead. I stretch up in my seat and strain to see what he is doing.