by Perks, Heidi
Of course Grace understood because she had only met Ben a total of three times, though it still hurt to learn that his only guests were Nancy, Caitlyn, Rachel and their respective husbands. It bumped the women and their families into the inner depths of Anna’s circle and reminded Grace that she now sat on its periphery.
She climbs out of the car and walks up the immaculately paved driveway. As she knocks on the front door she figures Ben must have been close by, because he opens it swiftly.
His eyes flicker over her with a passing confusion and then a release of breath, and Grace can tell two things. Firstly, that he hasn’t immediately recognised her, but that when he does there is a flash of mild relief. As if maybe he has been expecting someone else at his door, possibly the police, possibly with news he doesn’t want to hear. And secondly, it means there is every reason to believe from his reaction that Anna is still not home. Ben’s look of panic can only be attributed to him having no idea what has happened to his wife.
‘Do you know …?’ He hesitates, as if he doesn’t actually want the answer. ‘Do you know anything?’ he finishes speedily.
Grace quickly shakes her head and waits for him to open the door wider and gesture her in.
‘I had to come round—’ She stops blindly, not knowing what to add. She had to come round and what? Tell him she is here to offer her support, or tell him the truth – that she wants to know whether he has called the police yet to report his wife missing?
The truth feels invasive, made harder by the fact she doesn’t know him. But why shouldn’t she be here? Grace is a concerned friend, looking for answers that she’s sure others are holding back.
She follows Ben through the hallway, with its cream carpet and olive walls. Everything about their home is so new and finished. What it lacks in character it makes up for in the simple perfection that only new-builds seem to pass off. There are photographs everywhere: of Ethan, of the three of them together. She can’t escape their eyes watching her as she moves towards the kitchen-diner at the back, passing the living room on her left.
There in the corner, a Christmas tree is haphazardly decorated with homemade decorations, a pile of wrapped presents beneath, and Grace imagines their Christmas mornings, all of them sitting around the tree in pyjamas, opening their presents, a large turkey in the oven, preparing for the onslaught of guests. Is it his family or her friends that come?
Grace has a sudden image of this Christmas morning for them. One without Anna. She quickly turns away from the tree and sees Ben waiting for her in the doorway to the kitchen. Grace follows him into the room. In the middle of it an oak table is cluttered with books and felt tips and a Spiderman bowl filled with soggy Shreddies that give off a scent of stale milk. When Grace had been here before, everything had been tidied into the grey crates that sit in the Ikea bookcase, but today it looks like most of their contents have been tipped on to the table.
‘I take it you haven’t heard from Anna?’ she asks as her eyes scan the kitchen. It feels strange that she could draw Anna’s old childhood kitchen from memory and yet this one feels like a stranger’s. The photos that have been collaged into large white frames go some way to bringing life to the years Grace has missed, but she doesn’t recognise many of the faces in them.
She watches Ben carefully for what his answers might hide.
He shakes his head as he stands awkwardly in front of her, his gaze penetrating hers. It gives her the impression that he doesn’t particularly want her here. ‘No. And I can’t get hold of her – her phone is off.’ His hand is brushing across the counter in frantic strokes. ‘Were you there?’ He snaps his head up to look at her, as if this is the first time he has considered she might have been. ‘Were you there last night with Anna at the pub?’
Grace nods. ‘Yes, I was,’ she tells him, ‘but I left earlier than the others. I went home before midnight.’
Ben rubs a hand across his face, the heel of his palm digging into his eyes. ‘Shit,’ he mutters as his gaze turns from her and drifts out to the back garden. He walks over to the glass door that leads out to the back and slams his palms against its pane. The thud makes Grace jump. When he eventually turns back to her his eyes are glassy, his fingers now drumming against his thighs. ‘I didn’t know you were going. I thought it was just the four of them,’ he says. Pulling out a seat at the table, he sits down, steepling his hands in front of him and pressing his lips against them, and she wonders what difference this makes to him.
‘What was she like last night?’ he asks. ‘My wife? How was she behaving?’
Grace cocks her head. He has made the word ‘behaving’ sound wrong, like whatever has happened to Anna is her fault.
‘I just want to know,’ he says. ‘I mean, were they drunk? They all like a drink; I’ve seen it enough times. They manage to get the owners to lock them in after hours.’
Grace tries to make sense of his words, his body language. He sounds more annoyed than concerned, she thinks.
‘What was it like last night?’ he asks her.
‘They were all drinking,’ she admits, unsure what else he wants her to add.
‘And Anna? Did she …?’ This time he doesn’t finish the sentence.
‘Did she what?’ she asks.
‘Did she talk to anyone else? Was there anyone you saw her with?’ he asks, his palms slapping together as he speaks.
‘You mean a man?’
‘I don’t know,’ he cries. ‘Yes. A man. Anyone. I just want to know what happened to my wife.’ With this he pushes his chair back again, stands up, but then seems unsure what to do next as he is rooted to the spot, staring at her.
‘No!’ Grace shakes her head. ‘God, no. There was nothing like that.’ She wonders if he can really believe that another man had something to do with what has happened. ‘Is this why you haven’t spoken to the police yet? Because you think she’s with someone else?’
Ben releases a deep breath and ignores her question. She can see how much it is paining him to ask what his wife was up to last night, and for a moment she wonders if he hasn’t been able to ask Nancy the same question. And though she shouldn’t admit it, Grace feels pleased that he might not expect the same honesty as he seemingly does from her.
‘There were no men. I didn’t see her speaking to anyone else at all. I promise you.’
Eventually Ben nods and lets out another breath, this one even deeper, so that his whole body deflates with it. ‘Then where the hell is she?’ he says. ‘What’s happened to her?’
‘I don’t know,’ Grace replies. ‘That’s why we have to call the police.’
‘You’re right,’ he says, though he makes no move to do so. Instead he says, ‘Last night, was she …?’ He pauses and frowns. ‘Was there anything about Anna that didn’t seem right?’
There were plenty of things, Grace thinks, though she isn’t sure what to tell him. Whether it’s the fact Anna was off with her all evening and that it felt apparent from the outset she’d regretted inviting her. Or that by the end of the evening her attitude towards her friends had significantly cooled. Or that none of the others made an effort to include her and Anna did nothing to change it. But she settles on telling him what she knows for a fact doesn’t stack up. ‘I heard there was an argument between them at the end of the night,’ she says, ‘and while Nancy tells me Anna had already left, I know that’s not true. Apparently they were all still there when the cab arrived.’
‘So they left her there?’
‘It seems that way.’
‘But that’s not what Nancy told me this morning.’
‘Nor me,’ Grace says. ‘But I don’t think they’re being truthful about what happened at the end of the evening. They were cagey with me at school this morning.’
‘This makes no sense. Why would Nancy tell me she thought Anna had left without telling any of them?’
Grace shakes her head. ‘I don’t know, but I do know it’s not true. I spoke to the barman this morning and he says th
ey were all still there when a cab was called.’
‘You spoke to the barman?’
‘Just now,’ she admits. ‘I went back there …’ Her words fade as Ben continues to stare at her, his brow furrowed, his jaw set hard.
‘Why did you do that?’
‘Because …’ She flings her arms up in the air, palms splayed upwards. ‘Because she hasn’t come home, Ben. I’m worried about her. I wanted to know what happened.’
‘And you think I don’t?’ he says, his voice rising.
‘No. Of course not. I’m just trying to help. I was trying to do something to find her.’
He takes a step back, leaning against the sink as he shakes his head. ‘So what are you saying? That they all left together or that Anna’s friends left without her?’
‘I honestly don’t know what happened.’ She’d assumed the others must have left Anna there, but now that she thinks about it, she doesn’t know this for sure. ‘But Nancy is telling us both a different story. I’m sorry, Ben, I have no idea why.’
He turns round and grips the sink edge beside him. She thinks she can hear the beating of his heart but then she isn’t sure if it is hers.
Now he is letting go again and turning back to her, his eyes hollow and empty. Pick up the phone, she is silently urging him. Just pick up the bloody phone and call the police before I do.
‘Why haven’t you spoken to the police yet, Ben?’ she asks. ‘You need to. They should be looking for Anna right now.’
He nods slowly, as if considering the option, but then says, ‘Why do you think Nancy is lying to me?’
‘I have no idea,’ she says again. She is getting impatient with him now. She’ll get her own phone out and call them in front of him if she has to.
‘If Nancy’s lying then she could be covering for Anna.’ He pauses. ‘Do you think they know where she is?’
‘No.’ She screws her eyes up. ‘No, I don’t actually think that – I don’t know why they said what they did. I’m just saying their story doesn’t add up.’
Ben bites his bottom lip, his eyes narrowing. ‘Was Anna with anyone else last night?’ he asks again.
‘No,’ Grace exclaims, ‘she wasn’t!’
He is watching her carefully, like he thinks she might suddenly back down and change her story.
This must account for his reluctance. Ben’s so consumed by the thought that his wife is having an affair that he doesn’t want to involve the police in his marital problems. Grace doesn’t believe for one moment this is the case, but if Ben carries on along this line of thinking then is he actually going to take seriously the fact Anna is missing?
She hasn’t considered that Anna’s friends’ aloofness this morning is because they are covering up for her. Grace’s theories about why the friends are lying have been far more sinister, she realises. But what is their reasoning, exactly? That one of them is aware of Anna’s fate? That one of them is responsible for it? Is this actually what she believes is possible?
It seems far-fetched, but it happens. It is not unheard of.
‘I don’t know what’s gone on,’ Grace says firmly, ‘but Anna wasn’t with anyone at all. From what I saw of her – and everything I know of her – she would never do that,’ she says.
He gives her a look, as if he is about to iterate Nancy’s words, that Grace doesn’t know Anna any more – but in Ben’s defence, he doesn’t actually utter them.
‘You need to call the police,’ she says, more softly now.
‘I know, I was about to …’ He looks up and catches her eye briefly before he rapidly pulls his gaze away.
‘The sooner they know, the quicker they can start looking for her,’ she presses.
‘I know. I’ll do it.’
But still he doesn’t make any move to get his phone, and now Grace can feel her frustration with him turning into anger. She begins to wonder what their marriage is like behind closed doors.
On the three occasions she has seen them together, they looked blissfully happy. Anna has spoken about how they spend all their weekends together as a family, except for when Ben plays golf once a month. Grace has watched the way her friend ran her hands up and down his arm when she spoke to him – tenderly, it seemed. Anna had certainly made it appear as though their lives were perfect, so far stretched from the life she shares with Graham. But when Grace had commented on their happiness, Anna has shrugged it off like it was nothing, as if she were taking it all for granted, and at the time Grace had left their house feeling an unwanted resentment. She would never utter a word of that to anyone, of course, could never admit to feeling jealous of a friend, because who would do that?
But then what if she’d read Anna wrong? Grace knows that people don’t always tell you everything. She only has to look at her own marriage to see that. And now she wonders if there is another side to Ben, too.
‘I know what the police will say,’ he says. His shoulders are hunched and she can see the way the muscles in his arms have tightened through his shirt. ‘When I tell them my wife hasn’t returned home from a night out with her friends. It’s not even ten in the morning. They’ll tell me it’s too early to be looking for her, that she’ll come home of her own accord.’
‘She wouldn’t do that,’ Grace says.
Though really how does she know? The only boyfriend Grace had ever known Anna to have was Kevin Winter, and just because Anna was distraught when she found out Kevin had snogged some girl called Yasmin from the year above it didn’t mean she’d never do the same. What if this wasn’t the first time Anna hadn’t gone home?
‘Has she done it before?’ she asks Ben now.
‘No,’ he says. ‘Christ, no, of course she hasn’t. She’s never done anything like this in her life.’ He stares and shakes his head, rubbing the heel of his hand so roughly against his chin she can hear the scratch of his stubble. Grace tries to work out whether he is holding anything back or not, but it is impossible to know.
‘Then why do you think she’s capable of doing it now?’
‘I don’t—’ He breaks off. Even though she can’t see his face she can hear that he’s talking through gritted teeth. Eventually his shoulders drop and she can almost feel him sinking, though the rest of his body doesn’t move. There seems to be so many thoughts going through his head as he’s trying to deal with the notion that his wife might have been unfaithful. ‘I don’t know,’ he says, his voice a notch quieter. ‘I don’t know that she’s been honest with me lately.’ He digs into his pocket and pulls out a piece of paper, folding it over in his hands as he stares at it intently. Eventually he turns and shows it to Grace.
On it there is an address for a road in Weymouth. ‘What is this?’ she asks. ‘Who’s Sally Parkinson?’
‘A therapist. I found out last week that Anna’s been seeing her for months.’
‘Why?’
Ben shrugs. ‘I have no idea.’
‘Well, what did she tell you?’
‘I didn’t ask her.’ He lets out a small laugh. ‘She never told me about this, I just found out.’ He takes the piece of paper from Grace and screws it up in his hand.
‘How?’
Ben narrows his eyes, looking sheepish. ‘I found this in her purse. I wasn’t looking for it or anything—’ He cuts off sharply. Grace thinks that he might not have been looking for that in particular but he must have been snooping for a reason. Why was that?
‘Why the hell didn’t I ask?’ he is saying. ‘If I had I might know what’s been going on with her lately.’
‘Why didn’t you?’ she asks quietly.
Ben shrugs. ‘Because … I don’t know … I just didn’t find the right time to bring it up. Maybe I didn’t want to know the answer.’
‘Listen,’ Grace says, ‘whatever you think Anna may or may not be capable of, the fact is she is missing. And you can’t not report it. If she has gone off with someone else, you’ll find out soon enough, but I don’t believe she has. And so what if something else has happ
ened?’
‘I know.’
‘Then come on. Let’s call the police now.’ She pulls her phone out of her coat pocket. ‘I’ll dial the number but I still think you need to speak to—’
‘No!’ Ben swings round and reaches out for her phone.
‘What are you doing?’ Grace pulls it back.
‘I told you I’ll call them and I will. Just let me do it,’ he says, his eyes shining brightly as they fix on hers. ‘Please. Let me do it when I’m on my own.’
Grace nods and reluctantly puts her phone back in her pocket. ‘Okay.’
‘Thank you,’ he says. ‘I didn’t mean to … you know. I’m sorry. This morning has just been horrendous.’
‘It’s fine.’
‘I just don’t like the thought of the conversation. They’ll suggest it’s my fault she hasn’t come home. They’ll assume we’ve had some argument.’
Grace nods again, slowly. Have you? she thinks.
‘We haven’t,’ he adds quickly, with a hint of irritation, as if reading her thoughts. ‘But you can see what I mean; it’s only what you’re thinking.’
‘No, I wasn’t,’ Grace lies. ‘It’ll be fine, Ben. It just needs to be done.’
When Ben doesn’t answer she knows she has no choice but to leave him to it, even though a large part of her doubts he is going to do what he says he will.
‘Is there anything I can do for you?’ Grace asks.
‘You can tell me what the hell I say to my son,’ he says sadly. ‘If I have to pick him up from school tonight and his mum’s still not home, then what do I tell Ethan?’
‘I don’t know,’ Grace admits. It’s a sickening thought that it might come to that. ‘If you want I could have him? He can come to me, have tea with Matilda.’
When Ben doesn’t answer, Grace goes on, ‘Let me do that anyway. I’ll pick him up and then one way or another you have some time with Anna or …’ She trails off. Or what? Sit with the police while they try to find his wife? Or worse, they know where she is but he’s going to need that time to work out how to tell his son that his mother is dead?