In My Wake: A Breathtaking Psychological Thriller With a Killer Twist

by Ruth Harrow

  Too quiet; it presses in on my ears.

  Deciding to keep myself busy, I jog upstairs. Packing our things will be a useful task. It will save time later. We can make a smoother exit.

  I wander into Eva's room first and flick on the wall light. If given the task, she would dawdle and take too much time. We don't need any fuss. Not with my mother in the mix anyway. She would likely nag us to stay. I'm even relieved that she isn't here now. It makes the whole thing easier.

  I look around for Eva's suitcase but can't see it. Vaguely, I register that the room is surprisingly tidy. When I had last seen it, Eva had her growing pile of laundry in a heap at the end of the bed. I wonder what she did with it?

  I drop to my hands and knees and peer under the bed. No suitcase under here either. When I open the wardrobe, a coldness bursts in the pit of my stomach.

  The wardrobe is empty.

  Nothing but a single crocheted pouch of lavender swings about when I open the doors. Everything of Eva's is gone.

  39

  Tuesday 31st August 1993

  There has been so much activity in the village lately. Just a few days after our disastrous day out, police cars appeared in the village. I was terrified when I saw the first one. Then more appeared, parked outside the most unlikely of homes. I thought it was the end; we must have been found out. Paige must have reported us.

  But we quickly discovered that wasn't the case, as Mrs Blake from the newsagents informed Mum in a breathless whisper when she took April and me inside one day.

  'Have you heard? It's terrible news – that little Wakefield girl has gone missing …'

  Unnoticed by our mother, April had reached out for my hand and gripped it tightly. A reminder. A warning.

  Don't say a word.

  Police cars continue to cruise the streets even weeks later. A couple of people have found excuses to call in at our house in order to gossip to Mum and Dad about the latest goings-on.

  Tonight Mum and Dad are having the couple who run the village bed and breakfast over for dinner. In a way it is nice, because the arrival of guests seems to incite a change in our parents. They put on smiles and make an effort to laugh and joke. I can't remember the last time they did that when it was just the four of us in the house.

  Dinner is hard to get down, even though Mum has made more of an effort than usual. The sauce of her chicken chasseur should make everything slip down better, but the conversation puts me off ever wanting to eat again.

  Through a mouthful of creamed potatoes, Mrs Hughes excitedly reels off a list of villagers who have been questioned so far by the police. 'But they finally made an arrest today, Janet. And guess who it was?!'

  I despise the look on the old lady's creased face as she waits for an answer. The lines around her mouth bend in a horrible sort of smirk. She is thoroughly enjoying all this drama. I wonder vaguely what they might be talking about if none of this had happened.

  Mum sets down her glass of wine and shakes her head.

  Mrs Hughes leans forward for a extra effect before revealing the punchline. 'John Wakefield himself!'

  She nods impressively and I stare across the table at April. She looks equally distressed by the news but says nothing. She instead works on the mushrooms she usually leaves discarded on the side of her plate. Putting them into her mouth and chewing at length.

  Mum shakes her head. 'Can they do that? Make an arrest, like that? I thought they haven't found a body yet?'

  My fork somehow slips from my grip and makes a loud clatter, splattering sauce over the tablecloth, but no one except April notices. The adults are still deep in conversation. April tosses me a napkin and stares back down at her mushrooms looking pale.

  'I don't think they need a body,' Mrs Hughes says. 'You only need to look at that family to tell they are bad news. They must have good reason if they have arrested the father. Besides, it has been weeks now and no one has seen hide nor hair of the girl.'

  'Maybe she ran away,' I blurt out, taking myself by surprise.

  April looks at me, her eyes fearful. I feel like she is holding her breath as she watches me.

  Mrs Hughes stops just before she takes a sip of her wine and looks around at me, as though surprised that the little girl across the table is wading into the conversation held by the adults.

  She gives me a patronising nod. 'Yes, perhaps she did, dear.'

  40

  I rush over to the bedside cabinets and pull open the drawers hastily. They are empty, other than a hair elastic and the bible Eva pretended to read the other day. No charging cable, no hairbrush, nothing.

  My voice sounds odd and strangled when I call down the stairs. 'Will!'

  He appears at the bottom, looking up at me in confusion. 'What is it?'

  'It's Eva. All her things are missing.'

  'What are you talking about?'

  'She's gone. So are her clothes – her suitcase. None of it is here!'

  Will rushes up the stairs and past me into the bedroom. He follows my thought patterns and checks in all the same places.

  Whilst he searches fruitlessly, I move through into mine and Will's room. A flick of the light switch reveals the room is just as I remember leaving it earlier. Separate piles of clothes, a phone charger either side of the bed. My makeup bag is still out on the dressing table and Will's laptop is still charging in the corner.

  Will appears beside me. 'Is anything of ours missing?'

  'Yes – our daughter!'

  'You know what I mean. Check her things haven't been put in here somewhere. Maybe your Dad is expecting a booking and needed her room or something.'

  'He never said anything.'

  Will ignores me. He pulls back the duvet and checks under the bed, then he moves around the room repeating the same motions as before as I pull out my phone and call Eva.

  Her phone starts to ring, but stops quickly and I am left listening to the answer machine message. I try again but almost instantly hear the message again.

  What is going on?

  Will straightens up. 'Have you checked in your Dad's room? Maybe Eva's things are in there?'

  He moves across the landing to check and I try Eva's phone again, before opening my messaging app and starting to tap out a text.

  Will's face appears in the doorway again. I ignore him until his hushed tone startles me. I am suddenly on alert. 'Hannah,' he hisses. 'Come in here.'

  'What is it?'

  I follow Will into Dad's room and see my father laying fully dressed on top of his bed. His breathing is deep and slow. He is asleep.

  I flick on the bright overhead light. 'Dad?'

  I touch my father's shoulder and give him a gentle nudge. He doesn't stir and it takes a few minutes for him to wake whilst Will hovers behind me in the doorway.

  Dad opens his eyes wearily and mutters, 'April?'

  'No, Dad. It's me, Hannah. Are you all right? You seem very drowsy?'

  Dad rubs his eyes and makes to sit up, swinging his legs over the side of the bed with great difficulty. 'Fine, Love. I had some of those painkillers after you left ... They must have knocked me out. Where did you get to?'

  He looks around the room, blinking groggily. 'Will, you're here. What time is it?'

  'It's past eight o clock,' I say. 'Dad, where is Eva? And Mum and Paul? Did they go to a restaurant for dinner?'

  'Eh? I don't know, Love. No one said anything to me.'

  I glance at Will in the doorway.

  'I'll try calling her,' he says, pulling out his phone. He wanders along the landing and out of sight.

  Dad takes a deep breath. 'Last thing I knew is taking those pills,' he says. 'My head was paining me, it was. It's these ruddy stitches. Anyway, I started nodding off and your mother told me to have a lie down. Eva said she would bring up some tea for me in a little while.'

  My eyes fall on a china cup on Dad's bedside cabinet. I pick it up and wrap my fingers around it. The liquid inside is still tepid.

  'And they didn't say w
here they might be going?'

  'No, not at all. All they were talking about was your mother's holiday when I left the room.'

  Dad leans his head back on the tufted headboard and closes his eyes.

  'I'll go and make you some coffee,' I say, retreating downstairs.

  My hands are cold and slip on the bannister. I pass Will in the hallway.

  'She switched her phone off,' he informs me, as he pulls his own phone from his ear.

  'What?' I stop dead. 'Why would she do that?'

  'I don't know.'

  'What if someone has taken her? They might be using her phone?'

  'Don't overreact again. I'm sure there is a reasonable explanation. Just don't panic, OK? She was fine at that party, wasn't she?'

  'Only because I intervened!'

  'Don't start, Hannah.' He sighs in frustration. 'I can't get hold of your mother either. Her phone is switched off too. Have you got Paul's number?'

  I scan through my contacts. 'No. That's weird. I thought I did ...'

  'Maybe I'll try Facebook,' Will mutters wandering back into the lounge, tapping away at his phone.

  I wait impatiently for the kettle to boil and pace the kitchen nervously. Something is wrong. I can feel it.

  Every few minutes, I try either Eva or my mother's phone but they remain switched off. That in itself is odd. But Will insists that means they are likely both together.

  My phone reception wanes and I find myself forgetting about making drinks and wander outside into the garden, looking for a reliable spot to try another call.

  The screen of my phone seems overly bright in the dusky darkness that threatens to swallow me up. There is only a faint blue glow to the sky and stars start to twinkle overhead but I barely notice.

  Out of the corner of my eye, I see another light. I put my phone down at my side and look across the nearest field.

  The small glow suddenly disappears from my vision. I could have sworn that it was the light from another phone screen. Now all is dark.

  Could Eva be out there?

  In the darkness I can't tell. Has she simply just gone across the fields for an evening stroll?

  April and I would often slink back that way long after our curfew, hand-in-hand and giggling recklessly.

  It's probably nothing more than an errant dog walker. It couldn't possibly be anyone out to harm me. They wouldn't dare come so close.

  Then I realise it can't be my daughter – her phone is switched off.

  I stare for a few moments into the blackness. The hairs at the base of my skull prickle. I am uncomfortably aware that I must be silhouetted plainly against the bright lights of the house.

  Once again, I am encompassed by the feeling that someone unseen looks back at me.

  41

  Wednesday 1st September 1993

  It seems to take forever for September to roll around. Never can I remember wanting the summer holidays to end before.

  Gossiping Mrs Hughes called at the house again yesterday on the pretence of bringing April and I brand new stationery ready for the beginning of term. They were quick to inform Dad that Mr Wakefield had been released from arrest.

  Dad let out a low noise of annoyance. 'So he has been let out to wander the streets, has he?

  'They didn't have enough evidence to hold him apparently,' Mrs Hughes added.

  'Goodness gracious. What is the world coming to?' Dad shook his head. 'Who else would have harmed the girl?'

  'Precisely. Makes you wonder what they are playing at, letting him go.'

  Our visitor then glanced at me and dropped her voice as she muttered to Dad, 'If you ask me, we all have to watch our little ones a little more closely now Wakefield is at large again.'

  This morning I am actually looking forward to school. I can't wait to be out of the house and away from Little Bishopsford. I wonder if my sister feels the same way about her first day of college?

  I dress in my uniform and take a seat at the breakfast table where April is already eating cereal. She doesn't look at me as I sit down.

  Dad is just about to leave for work when Mum puts down the phone and calls him into the hallway. She lowers her voice to a whisper, but April and I can still hear every word.

  'Tony,' she says sounding urgent. 'You'll never guess what's happened now. There was a fire at the Wakefields' house last night. Wendy from the shop says it got all of them.'

  'You're joking,' Dad whispers loudly. 'That's awful. All the children too?'

  'They were asleep upstairs at the time. They didn't have the chance to get out …'

  I look across the table to April who stares blankly down at her cereal. She grips the spoon tightly in her hand, but seems to have forgotten all about eating.

  As we step outside, I am very aware the morning has a misty, odd edge to it. There is a smell in the air like the day after bonfire night. The smell of burning lingers in the atmosphere and my empty stomach churns as I get into Mum's car.

  I can't stand it. I'm terrified that I might just break down and scream. The smoke seems to hang in the air of the cabin. I feel as though it has attached itself to my clean hair; seeped inseparably into my pristine uniform.

  Instead of taking her usual spot in the front with Mum, April gets in beside me instead. Once we have set off, her hand moves across and grips mine.

  I'm almost glad she does, because I don't think I can stand to hold in the truth any longer.

  I had thought of starting at a brand new school as an escape, but the morning's assembly proves to be a nightmare from which I cannot walk away.

  The subject is Paige.

  The headteacher has a picture of her put up on the projector behind him and I can't bear to look at it. The larger than life image seems to stare down at me accusingly.

  The daisy necklace around her neck seems to stand out, stark against her pale skin. I can still feel the hard plastic gripped beneath my fingers, the black cord wound tight around my palm.

  The day seems to drag on forever. In the toilets at break time, I am terrified out of my wits as I am washing my hands – I think for a moment that Paige walks out of a cubicle behind me. It is simply a girl with the same mousy brown hair pulled into a similar ponytail.

  Water splashes down my front when I spin around, eyes wide.

  The girl spots me and laughs, erupting into gleeful muttering with the friends waiting in the corridor for her, before the door swings shut on them, leaving me quite alone.

  In the afternoon, there is a talk about safety and the dangers of speaking to strangers. We are reminded not to get into cars with people we do not know well. And we are also urged that if anything upsets us at home, we should talk to the school counsellor about it.

  Even in the sea of students, I feel like the spotlight is on me. At one point, I think I see a couple of teachers glance in my direction.

  I can feel myself sweating; feel my pulse in my throat beneath my white collar.

  I don't think I can take much more.

  42

  The house stubbornly retains the heat from the day, but it is a relief to step quickly back inside. I take care to lock the conservatory doors securely, looking out at the darkness, still clueless as to what it may hold.

  I return to the mugs of coffee, struggling to remember if I have added sugar yet or not. My stirring hand shakes as I spoon some in anyway; Dad looks like he could do with a boost. I'm furious with my mother for disappearing like this, especially when my father could have taken another bad turn on his own.

  I feel a sense of loss when Eva isn't nearby. The closest thing I can compare it to is as though I'm missing a limb. Only when she is back within range of me do I ever feel anything other than disquiet.

  Dad appears now in the doorway, making me gasp in surprise. He raises his eyebrows. 'Any luck?'

  'No,' I say, trying to steady myself. I can't keep the concern from my voice. 'I can't understand where they would go. And why they would have their phones off. Will suggested they might hav
e gone to the cinema. But why would they pack Eva's things?'

  'I don't know either, Love. I didn't see this one coming, I'm afraid … I've let you down.'

  'Don't be silly,' I say, distractedly. I steer him into a dining chair and hand him his drink.

  I sip mine absent-mindedly without sitting down, only vaguely aware that it is far too sweet.

  Dad looks over at me. 'What is Will doing now?'

  'He is trying to get through to them on Facebook. He knows how that all works better than I do. Computing is his profession, after all. If it is possible to get through to them that way, he will do it.'

  Dad looks at me carefully. He still hasn't started on his coffee. 'Are you sure?'

  'What do you mean?'

  Dad focuses now on his mug, speaking quietly. 'You know, it was Will's idea for Eva to go to that party last week. He was the one who told me to just drop her off.'

  'What? He can't have ... Maybe you misunderstood him?'

  Dad shakes his head, looking sombrely down at the table. 'Don't think so. He told me that if I left her there without asking you, you would be fine with it. That the hardest part for you was letting her go in the first place. He told me he would talk you into it once she had gone.'

  I shake my head, trying to process another shock piece of new information. It has been such a long day. 'I can't believe it. Why would he do such a thing?'

  'Beats me.'

  Surely Will knew that I would go after Eva? If he didn't, then he doesn't know me at all, and we have been together for so many years now.

  A thought creeps into my mind that gives me a shiver even in the muggy heat of the house. Could Will have been merely trying to buy himself some time that day so he could arrange a visit to Reg?

  Before I dismiss the thought, Will wanders into the kitchen still staring at his phone. 'I can't get through on Facebook either,' he says without glancing up. 'I've sent the three of them messages to their individual accounts but not had a response yet.'