by Ruth Harrow
My mind is racing. Until half an hour ago, I never knew Will was questioned in the investigation into Paige's disappearance. What did he tell the police? What on earth would they have asked him?
'So what sort of thing did they ask you? Did you mention mine or April's name at any point?'
'No, of course not. I told the police I was with Reg. He backed me up, told them I was doing chores for him at the time. He was my alibi. And I was his.'
I allow this new piece of information to sink in and there is nothing audible but the wind and distant bird chattering. 'But why did Reg need an alibi?'
Will shrugs, sinking onto the bench beside me and staring out across the horizon. The bright sun highlights the steely shade of his iris.
My next sentence comes out in barely more than a hushed whisper. 'Do you think he did it?'
As the words slip from my mouth, the same cold feeling I experienced in the old man's house sinks into me again. The hardened look in those eyes, as though he was seeing the past projected on a veil between us. Were they really the eyes of a killer? What if he had come across Paige wandering alone in an isolated spot? Did she leave the woods under her own steam? What would Reg have done?
I stroke my arms, willing the goosebumps to recede.
Will is quiet for a few minutes as though thinking carefully about what to tell me. He finally speaks. 'He could have easily done it,' he answers, speaking slowly. He was missing for a good period during that time. I know his wife wasn't able to vouch for him either. She was off at some kind of class with her friends somewhere ...' He shakes his head. 'He couldn't explain, even to me, exactly where he was.'
'So you think he did it?'
'I just don't know. Everyone knew Reg hated the Wakefields. I wouldn't rule it out.'
We sit in silence for a few minutes as we ponder the unimaginable.
Eventually, a question falls quickly from my lips. 'That's why he helped you? When that girl accused you – Katrina, wasn't it?'
'How do you know that?'
'The people in the village store were talking about her too. They said Reg got you out of trouble by getting Katrina to drop the charges. They seemed to think you guilty, though.'
'And so now you do too?' Will snaps at me. 'That's what I mean about mud sticking, Hannah. It's why I didn't tell you before.'
'Tell me what really happened.'
Will sighs angrily, crossing his arms and tilts his head back to face the perfect peach-hued sky. 'Things got out of hand that night.'
'What do you mean?'
'It was near the end of August. Before I left college, I had become pally with some of the boys from the year below me. They had just got their own flat for their second year and threw a massive housewarming party. They were determined to have a good time. I didn't want to go but Dylan talked me into it. He liked one of Katrina's friends. The girls were in the same year as the hosts, but I didn't exactly know them well.'
He shakes his head, then stares into the middle distance as he talks, watching the events unfold as they fall from his tongue, 'Believe me, I had wanted to keep a low profile after what had happened earlier that summer. It's not like I felt like partying, but everything seemed to spiral out of my control so quickly. I started drinking. There was a lot stronger stuff than just alcohol at that party too ...'
'So you did get involved with the girl?'
'How can you even say that?! I'm just saying it was complicated, that's all. She had been drinking too. Looking back afterwards, I guess she had popped a pill on top of the booze. I didn't realise until afterwards when I'd sobered up. She was all over me and Dylan. We ended up in one of the bedrooms … at the time she didn't seem to act like she didn't know what she was doing – all three of us were drunk – not just her. She chose to knock it all back and she must have taken something else too without me even seeing … it was all her choice. Anyway, she wasn't going to admit to her parents that she had done drugs – or to the police. So she made her story suit her.'
'So you accepted Reg's help.'
'I just wanted to put it all behind me. Get away from it all. It was then that I broke up with April and left for the city.'
I think of the time April mentioned her relationship with Will was over. She had spilled the news so flatly. I felt like I was more upset that she was.
'She was really subdued when you left,' I say. 'I'm not sure she took it well, looking back.'
'I'm sorry. I guess that was probably why she was so upset when she found out the two of us were dating.'
'Yes, perhaps.'
My teeth find a new section of cheek to work, gnawing on the skin until it stings. I never want to repeat what April told me about Will. We had just announced our engagement, and Eva and her sister were already growing in my belly. I rejected April's words in an instant, but they have haunted me ever since.
I can never forget the way April told me either. She sat down in the apartment I shared with Will, on the first sofa we were delighted to have chosen for our home together.
Before April arrived for her unannounced visit, I had been flicking through wedding brochures and they were still scattered across the coffee table when she took a seat.
I caught her eyes flick over them before I hastily flipped them shut with some guilt. With a stony face she told me all sorts of things about my soon-to-be husband; she voiced things that concerned her when she looked back at their relationship, most of them were trivial and everything she told me seemed odd, out of context; inconsistent with the man I knew. Even now, I suspect she was making them up, which would also have been so out of character for her.
The hardest thing to hear was when she told me of the nightmares she had experienced for a long time after leaving the village.
She confided in me what she feared the most about Paige Wakefield's disappearance. I hadn't wanted to hear that girl's name. Not away from Little Bishopsford, miles away in the apartment that I shared with my fiancée. I was nesting, anticipating a future with a child, Will's child. I didn't want my home tainted with stains of the past.
I can never scrub the moment from my mind when she leaned towards me on the sofa, her glossy sheet of amber hair just inches from mine, her breath warm on my cheek as she whispered what would be her parting message from the visit. I had stood up abruptly and told her to leave directly afterwards.
He eyes were unusually solemn. Her beautiful face displaying uncharacteristic folds of concern.
Afterwards, I had slammed my apartment door shut behind my sister and leaned against it, unable to shake the words she had left ringing in my ears: 'I know he went back for her.'
37
Sunday 25th July 1993
I hardly slept at all last night. My head throbs painfully this morning. Judging by April's puffy eyes at breakfast, I wasn't the only one lying awake for hours in the darkness.
But it isn't just us. Mum looks red-eyed this morning too. She is so very curt with Dad. They barely say a word to each other, skirting around each other in the kitchen and avoiding each other's gaze.
In a way, it is lucky that they hardly seem to notice that April and I are here. If I was to be asked about my well-being, or what we did after we left the house yesterday, I feel as though I wouldn't be able to lie. I feel as though I'm on the verge of spilling everything. If only I was given a little nudge in that direction.
April seems to know what I am thinking. She keeps glancing at me over her plate of bacon and eggs she also struggles to eat.
We do the dishes afterwards in virtual silence and retreat to our rooms. I don't want to be on my own, but Mum and Dad are behaving so strangely that I don't take any comfort being around them.
I sit on my bed and wonder what to occupy myself with that could possibly take my mind off what happened yesterday. All I can think about is the screech of brakes, the impact, the terrible silence afterwards. Will's scared face. I don't know what to do with myself.
I had thought I had done a good job of hiding away
the babyish toys. But now I realise this is still a child's bedroom, from the colourful duvet cover to the toadstool lampshade. I wonder how I ever felt a need for such a place.
I pull my knees up to my shin and wrap my arms around my legs. But nothing can make the images in my head go away.
Vaguely, I hear the phone ring and Dad calls up the stairs. 'April – Will is on the phone for you, Love!'
I hear my sister's footsteps scurry out of her room and then her voice in the hallway. She speaks quietly and although I strain my ears, I can't hear what she is saying.
I spring up and sneak quietly into Mum and Dad's bedroom where there is a second phone on the bedside cabinet. In the back of my mind, I think it odd that there is a pillow missing from Dad's side of the bed, but I ignore it.
Then I pick up the receiver as quietly as I can and lift it to my ear, hardly daring to breathe.
Will sounds as though he is making an effort not to be overheard either.
'I only knocked her,' he says in an urgent sort of hiss. 'It was just a little bump, that's all. She got up and walked off just fine, didn't she? She wouldn't be able to do that if she was injured.'
April sound close to tears. 'But, Will. I really think –'
'Don't. Don't think. Just forget about it. That is what you have to do. And another thing – you need to say that you weren't with me yesterday. You spent the day with your sister instead.'
'I can't do that,' April hisses. 'We went to all sorts of places. People must have seen us.'
'What people? No one knows us in Telford. I didn't see anyone I knew. Did you?'
'But –'
'April, you have to back me up. We need to stick together, all right? As long as we all stick to the same story, we will be fine.'
'But people knew we were going out together. I told people.'
'Like who? Your parents?'
'Yes, but other people too. Like, Reg. He pays me to do chores for him. That's where I get my money from. I mentioned it when I was over there last.'
There is silence on the end of the line. 'Don't worry about that,' Will says finally. 'You can just say you changed your plans. You only told him you were supposed to go out with me.'
'I don't know, Will. People must know. It's such a small village. And what about the car? It's dented – I saw it. What if the girl reports you? The police would get involved. They are going to look at your car, Will.'
'No they won't. I don't have a car, April.'
'What? What are you talking about? We were all in it yesterday ...'
'No you weren't.'
Will sounds angry now which makes me uncomfortable; I've never heard that hard edge to his voice before.
'We didn't see each other yesterday,' he presses. 'Remember?'
There is a pause and I am sure I hear April sob.
Will sighs. 'Look, the car is gone. You won't see it again. Don't mention that you ever saw it, OK?'
'Gone? What have you done with it?'
'Don't worry about it. I just got rid of it, that's all. No one will trace it back to me. They certainly won't trace it to you either if you stick to the story.'
There is a pause for a few moments, then April speaks quietly, defeated. 'Fine, I'll do it,' she says flatly.
'Good. Just make sure Hannah doesn't say anything either.'
I get an unpleasant thrill at the sudden use of my name. Then the call is ended and I am left listening to the flat hum of the dial tone.
I creep onto the landing and chance a glance downstairs. April leans her head on the wall beside the phone, gripping the receiver in one hand.
I scurry back to my room quickly as she turns. I'm sure she must have seen my retreating back, but she says nothing when she comes upstairs and perches herself at the end of my bed a few moments later.
She smooths down the creases in my silly cartoon duvet as she gives me an abridged version of what Will just said on the phone.
But I don't need her patronising pep talk. There is no way I will ever speak of what happened last night.
No way I will ever forget.
38
Will and I sit on our private bench for a little while. Eventually, the change in the sun signals the onset of evening.
It seems like so long since we have had some time to sit together and talk freely, without the fear of someone in the next room at risk of overhearing us. Before we go back, I know there is something else I need to do – show the latest text from April's phone to Will.
I can't stand carrying the weight of it around on my own. Nor do I want to speak the words from the message out loud for fear of what they mean.
I load up the message on my phone instead and hand it over to my husband. 'I got this shortly after you were arrested,' I say, quietly.
He stares at the screen, taking in the words. 'I don't get it. What does that mean – “I told you he was no good”?'
'I don't know,' I lie, training my eyes deliberately on the screen.
I get a renewed thrill of dread at the fact that it could easily have been April that had written those words. How would anyone else know that she had warned me about Will? Did she tell someone else? Our parents, perhaps? They have never let on if that was the case.
'What concerns me more is the way they finish the message,' I say, slipping my phone into my pocket and folding my arms across my chest. '“The truth will come out soon … ” What do you think they could mean by that? You don't think they are talking about what happened that … that day?'
Will says nothing, his frown deepening.
I prepare to voice what has concerned me for years. 'If that's what they mean, then that only leaves one possibility, doesn't it?'
Will looks up at me, confused. 'Which is what?'
I take a deep breath. 'That Paige Wakefield survived.'
'Hannah, don't.' He stands up abruptly and paces back and forth.
'Think of what it says in that message, though. Someone knows.' I drop my voice to a whisper. 'What if it was Paige that has been sending these texts?'
Will puts his foot down roughly on the bench next to me and ties his shoelace. 'You are talking rubbish, Hannah. Don't be so ridiculous. Can you hear yourself?'
'We have to consider the possibility, Will. Nobody else knew what we did.'
Will ignores me. 'If she was still around, she would have gone to the police years ago.'
'Not necessarily. She might have amnesia – or have been in shock. She might not have wanted to be taken back to her family. What if she wanted to run away?'
'This place was her home.'
'Kids run away all the time, especially from ... more deprived backgrounds. Her father might not have killed her, but he might have mistreated her behind closed doors for all we know. What if she survived? She may have wandered off somewhere with no memory of who she was ...'
Will looks surly, but my mind races. I'm convinced more than ever now I have said the words out loud. I'm sure Paige must have wanted to get away from her family. I can't imagine she had a great time at home judging by the look of her father. Or is that simply the bigotry of the village talking?
The one thought that has haunted me more than any other over the years is the fact that Paige Wakefield could still be alive.
Her body was never found. Just like April.
Something about the finality with which Will declares Paige's demise disquiets me just as much as anything else. Why is he so sure she must be dead?
Paige always had her hair pulled back into a messy ponytail, always had it topped with the same ragged old scrunchy. I sometimes take a second glance at a woman of our age if I see a flash of the same mousy brown shade hers was. That is assuming her hair colour didn't change over time. My imagination often wanders and I find myself dreaming of what she would look like now.
I wouldn't recognise her, certainly not at a glance. Would I even recognise her at all? I might, but only up close. And by then it might be too late.
'We should probably get back
to the house,' I say, finally. 'I told everyone I was only popping down to the shops.
'Fine,' Will says with a deep sigh. 'You said your mother is there now? How long is she staying for?'
'She leaves on Saturday.'
'Good,' Will says. 'We will leave tonight. Your Mum and Paul can keep Tony company, keep an eye on him while he gets back on his feet.'
Guilt squirms in my chest but I agree as I stand up and follow my husband along the narrow path back through the edge of the spinney. It seems so much darker now that the sun has dimmed a little and I am glad Will is here with me. I reach forward and put my hand into his. His returning grip is strong and comforting and I remember why I fell for him.
Hope flutters in my chest at the thought of finally going home. We walk through the village centre and past the shops; their luminous lights fizz in the falling dusk, and I make a silent vow to myself never to come back to Little Bishopsford again no matter what. I know Will feels the same way. Dad can stay for a visit at our terraced house in York any time he likes.
The front door is unlocked when Will and I return to Dad's house. It feels strangely dark as we step inside and I flick on the hallway lamp. The lounge is deserted too. I pad through to the kitchen, my canvas shoes flapping noisily against the tiles in the quiet and find the kitchen and conservatory deserted too. The garden beyond is also empty. I go to the foot of the stairs and call.
No answer.
Will appears in the living room doorway, having just switched on the lamps in there. 'Do you think they got annoyed and went out to dinner without us?'
'Possibly. Dad was on about Mum trying out the food at the pub he took us to for Sunday lunch. Maybe they went there?'
A muscle in Will's cheek twitches. He certainly was eager to announce our imminent departure. 'I guess I'll make us a drink, then,' he says. 'Want one?'
'I'll have some coffee,' I say. 'Keep me alert on the drive home.'
Will moves off into the kitchen and I stand, still in my shoes, and look around the silent living room. The traffic is rare on the road that snakes past this house. I've never noticed how quiet it is before, however.