The Whispers

by Perks, Heidi

  ‘Of course we wouldn’t have.’ Nancy is walking back round the table again, sitting down, and her slow movements appear defined and confident. ‘Of course we wouldn’t. We would never have left her.’

  Grace’s muscles are so tight she can feel the ache in her shoulders. She reminds herself to relax, to breathe. But right now she can’t. Because she knows this is a lie. It has to be if the barman is right and they were all still together when the taxi arrived.

  All of a sudden Rachel cries out, ‘But we did.’ Her legs shake beneath her as she rests her hands on the table to steady herself. The rest of them stop what they are doing and look at her with intense apprehension for whatever is coming next. ‘We did leave her. Because she was still there.’

  No one moves a muscle, none of them blinks. The noise of Grace’s breath sounds too loud to her in this silence.

  What does she mean they left her? Are they all aware of this? Slowly Grace tears her gaze from Rachel and looks at the other two, but their expressions give nothing away.

  When she turns back, Rachel is wiping a hand across her face, gathering tears that are pooling in her eyes. She looks as if she is about to collapse. ‘She was still there. I saw her when we got in the cab.’

  ‘Rachel?’ Nancy is now saying, cautiously. Grace watches her straightening her back, her face crumpling into a frown. Her hands are splayed face down on the table in front of her. ‘What are you talking about?’ Still Grace cannot work out if she knows exactly what Rachel is talking about or not. Nancy plays such a clever game.

  Rachel’s voice is quieter this time. ‘I saw her,’ she says. ‘She was standing by the wall in the backyard. When the cab pulled away, I leaned back and—’ She breaks off, shaking her head, furiously rubbing a hand over her face. ‘She was just stood there,’ she says, ‘watching us.’

  ‘She can’t have been,’ Caitlyn says. In contrast to Nancy, who is still sat ram-rod straight, Grace can feel how jumpy Caitlyn is by the way her hands are gesturing about, how she is shuffling from side to side on her chair. ‘She can’t have been there. She’d gone.’ She turns to Nancy, directs the question at her friend, maybe for support or maybe for confirmation. ‘She’d already gone, hadn’t she?’

  Grace cannot make out what is going on behind Nancy’s eyes. She is so unreadable, so unlike the other two.

  ‘I mean, why didn’t she run after us?’ Caitlyn is prattling on, her words skittering from her. Now she is holding her hand over her mouth, her eyes wide with the horror that they had left Anna behind. It seems her first thought is not that Rachel knows they did, but that they’d all had some part to play in doing this to their friend.

  Unlike Grace, whose immediate thought is why did Rachel leave her behind without saying anything?

  ‘I don’t know. God. I don’t know,’ Rachel is answering as she shakes her head.

  ‘Why wouldn’t she come with us?’ Caitlyn is pleading.

  ‘And why didn’t you get the cab to stop?’ Grace asks. It is clearly the most obvious question, and yet for some reason no one else is asking it. ‘I mean, if you saw Anna standing there, why didn’t you call out to her? Why did you leave her?’

  ‘Don’t blame this on me,’ Rachel cries. ‘Don’t you think I feel bad enough about it already? I didn’t think anything like this was going to happen. I didn’t think she was going to disappear.’

  Grace starts to respond that it’s irrelevant whether she is to blame or not, the fact is she knew Anna was still there and she hasn’t said anything, but Nancy is already speaking, holding her hand up as she gestures to the seat for Rachel to sit down. ‘Okay,’ she says as Rachel shakes her head and stays where she is. ‘No one is blaming anyone here.’

  The blood is warming in Grace’s veins, tiny electrodes pricking at her skin. Her breath is tight, pressure building inside her that is sure to push a scream out if she doesn’t find some way to release it.

  Don’t you dare take control of this, she wants to say. Rachel has to answer for what she has done. And yet Nancy is nodding at her friend, calmly placing her hands back on the table, trying to instil peace when Grace feels anything but rising within her.

  ‘I’m just trying to figure out what happened,’ Grace says through gritted teeth. Remember to breathe, she tells herself. Breathe. Stay calm. She needs to keep these women on her side if she is to learn anything. ‘Because it is only what the police are going to be asking.’ She speaks slowly to make her point.

  ‘She’s right,’ Caitlyn says. ‘If Anna isn’t … if she doesn’t …’ Her words taper off. ‘Christ, if she doesn’t come back we’re going to have to answer questions like this. They’re going to make out it’s our fault,’ she finishes with a small cry. Her hands flap around in the air before they slap down on to the table. She doesn’t know what to do with herself. ‘Rachel, why didn’t you stop the cab?’ Caitlyn asks the question a lot more gently than Grace had because she is desperate for her friend to give an answer she wants to hear, one that will put her mind at ease.

  Rachel takes a step backwards, swaying, tipping forward on to her toes and then rocking back. Her face is paler still, and Grace wouldn’t be surprised to see her run from the room again. ‘We’d had an argument.’ Now the tears are rolling down her cheeks but she doesn’t bother wiping them away. ‘And in that moment I didn’t particularly want her in the taxi.’

  And suddenly there is another piece of last night’s jigsaw, and yet it isn’t one that Grace expected. Maybe it’s also a surprise to Nancy, whose back is arched rigidly. She looks so furious that Grace wonders if it is because she simply didn’t know any of this.

  ‘Oh God,’ Rachel is groaning. ‘I can’t believe this is happening.’

  ‘What was the argument about?’ Grace asks.

  ‘We were drunk,’ Rachel says, as if this is enough.

  ‘But what was it about?’ she persists.

  ‘It was stupid,’ Rachel says. ‘So stupid. And it meant nothing. I don’t even remember what started it.’

  Oh, but you do, Grace thinks, watching the way Rachel’s eyes flick back and forth between the three of them, though mostly they rest on Nancy. You just don’t want to tell us.

  ‘I just knew I didn’t want her getting in the taxi, and besides she was standing against the wall, staring at me, leaning against it like she was goading me to come back and get her. And you know I would have done it, Nance.’ She pleads at her friend. ‘You know I would have if I hadn’t been so drunk, but I was. And I didn’t. And now this …’

  ‘I know you would,’ Nancy replies calmly. ‘And so you can’t go blaming yourself.’

  Grace looks from one to the other. ‘Hold on,’ she says sternly. ‘We need to know what the argument was about. It could be important.’

  ‘Do you think?’ Caitlyn is asking.

  ‘Yes,’ she snaps. ‘Of course I do. How can you not think that?’

  ‘It wasn’t,’ Rachel cries. ‘Not important enough for this to happen.’ She waves her hands in the air. ‘Whatever this even is.’

  ‘You just need to think if there was a reason she didn’t want to come home with you then—’

  ‘That’s enough,’ Nancy interrupts Grace as Rachel starts crying harder now, the heels of her palms digging into her eyes. ‘Turning on each other isn’t the way we do this.’

  ‘And who put you in charge?’ Grace cries before she can stop herself. She is sure Nancy has shut her down on purpose, before Rachel can say any more. But now Caitlyn is looking at her curiously. She realises that getting on the wrong side of Nancy is going to shut all three of these women down. And while she might be leaving with one more answer than she arrived with, she still has no idea what happened to Anna.

  ‘Grace, I don’t particularly like the way you keep talking to us,’ Nancy says as she gestures her hand around the room, making it clear that it’s Grace against the three of them. ‘It’s as if you think one of us has something to do with Anna’s disappearance.’ When Grace doesn’t respond
she says, ‘Do you?’

  ‘No,’ Grace replies, though this isn’t strictly true. The truth is that she doesn’t know who she trusts. All she knows is that someone is holding back. Someone knows more than she is letting on and there are still many more pieces of the puzzle to be put together.

  But she isn’t going to get anywhere. Not now. Not when their backs are up. Regardless of the fact Rachel had an argument with Anna last night, the three of them are putting up a united front. Caitlyn has melted into her chair in submission.

  ‘I don’t think that at all,’ Grace says. She must tread carefully, play one of their games if she wants to keep them on her side, if she hasn’t already lost them. ‘You just have to see it from my perspective. I’m worried about Anna, and,’ she pauses – she has to add this, however much it grates – ‘and I don’t know you all as well as you know each other. I’m not blaming any of you.’

  Rachel nods as she wipes a hand across her tear-streaked cheeks.

  ‘That’s good,’ Nancy says, and for a moment no one else moves or speaks.

  When the atmosphere becomes too uncomfortable, Grace goes on, ‘I need to go now.’

  It is time for her to go to the police. She will drive straight there and make sure Ben has spoken to them, and if he hasn’t she will tell them everything she knows. ‘But please call me if there’s any news.’

  ‘Of course,’ Nancy says, and pushes her seat back to stand, ready to walk Grace to Rachel’s door, to ensure she leaves.

  While Rachel doesn’t move from the kitchen, Nancy follows Grace into the hallway and at the door she presses her hand against it, holding it closed as she lays her other hand on Grace’s arm. It is a gesture she’s seen Nancy make on so many occasions with her friends and yet here it doesn’t feel one bit friendly.

  ‘We are Anna’s friends,’ she says.

  ‘I know you are. I am too. I’ve been her friend since we were five years old.’

  ‘This isn’t a competition.’

  Grace stifles a laugh, incredulous at her gall. No, but that’s exactly what you’ve been making it.

  ‘You can’t place too much emphasis on what Rachel said,’ she tells her. ‘I know you think it’s important, but it’s not the first time those two have fallen out when they’ve been out and it’s always blown over by morning. They’re both hot-headed.’

  Hot-headed is not remotely a description Grace would use to describe Anna. Anna is the most laid-back person she knows. But what is the point in arguing this with Nancy?

  ‘And I want to know what has happened to Anna as much as anyone,’ Nancy says pointedly.

  There is something in her tone that sounds quite menacing.

  ‘Rachel and Anna weren’t the only ones who had words last night, were they, Grace?’ she goes on.

  ‘You’re trying to blame me for something?’ Grace questions. Her mind flicks back to the conversation in the toilets, how she had told Anna that Nancy has a hold over her. It must have got back to Nancy. But Nancy says nothing more before opening the door and letting Grace out.

  Eventually the mums knew they would get little more information from hanging around the school. Shivering as they ditched their coffee cups into bins, they went their separate ways. Some had work, others would fill the day with mundane household chores, keenly awaiting the time to pick up their children back at the school gates. Today there was nothing more important or interesting than finding out what had happened to Anna Robinson.

  And even though they hoped she was safe, there was also a part of them that hoped the story wasn’t a let-down – that there was more they’d be able to dissect at pick-up, though, of course, they wouldn’t admit this to anyone else.

  But then they would also ask themselves what if, God forbid, something horrendous had happened to her? Because if she were still missing that afternoon, then there was surely no other explanation for her disappearance.

  It was past ten thirty that morning when one of the mothers was busy bundling laundry into her washing machine and the home phone rang. With her hands full, she nearly didn’t answer it, but at the last minute she picked up the call from her husband.

  ‘Have you landed?’ she asked him.

  ‘I have,’ he said. ‘Half an hour ago. I’m on the way to the hotel now, so at least I can get a bit of sleep before tonight. Did I wake you when I left? I tried to be quiet.’

  ‘I stirred,’ she said. ‘But I went off to sleep again. You’ll never guess what?’ she added, shutting the washing-machine door and leaning against it. ‘Anna Robinson, Ethan’s mum, hasn’t been seen since last night. She’s missing.’

  ‘What do you mean she’s missing?’ he asked.

  ‘I mean, no one knows where she is. Nancy says Anna’s husband is worried sick. No one can get hold of her. She went to the Old Vic last night with that usual gang of hers but then never went home.’

  There was a pause on the other end of the line. ‘Did you hear me?’ she asked her husband.

  ‘Yes. Yes, I heard you,’ he said eventually. ‘It’s just that I’m pretty sure I saw her …’ He paused before going on, as if he were thinking through what he had actually seen last night. ‘On my way to the airport this morning. I drove along the coast road because they’d closed the one-way system overnight.’

  ‘Oh my God, you really think you saw her?’

  ‘Yes.’ He stopped again. ‘Yes, I’m sure of it. I mean, she was in the distance, but at the time I knew she looked familiar and now, after what you’ve told me, I know it was her. She was wearing that red coat you always told me you wanted.’

  ‘Then it has to be her. What time?’ the mum asked. ‘When did you actually leave home?’

  ‘It must have been about two fifteen, maybe a bit later, I suppose. I left home at five past.’

  ‘What was she doing?’ she asked. Her questions tumbled out as she stood pressed against the washing machine, which was now burring into action behind her. ‘Where was she? Was she on her own?’

  ‘Yes, she was on her own, but I don’t know what she was doing; she was just … there. I thought she was walking along, but I’m not sure, she might have just been standing there looking up at the cliffs.’

  ‘And she was definitely on her own?’

  ‘Yep.’

  ‘What was she doing looking up at the cliffs on her own at that time of night?’

  If her husband was right, Anna wouldn’t have even been heading in the right direction from the Old Vic. It made no sense.

  ‘How would I know? I’ve got no idea. I wish I’d stopped now, but I didn’t at the time because I was running late, you know, and I didn’t think …’ He trailed off.

  ‘It’s not your fault,’ she said immediately, though when their conversation ended, she would wonder at this – whether she believed her husband should have stopped if he thought he knew it was Anna.

  ‘But you’re going to have to speak to the police,’ she said. ‘You know that, don’t you? If she’s still not back. You’re going to have to tell them what you saw.’

  Chapter Seven

  Grace

  Grace stands outside the two-storey 1950s red-brick building just off the coastal road. She has visited this small-town police station a handful of times in the past, and she has no doubt the inside looks exactly as it did in the nineties.

  She is proved right as soon as she opens the heavy door and walks into the reception area. In a moment she’s taken back to her teenage years, walking in with her mum, hovering on the ripped red-leather seats in the corner of the room as they waited for a detective to come out to speak to them.

  The seat covers have been replaced but they still sit in the same spot, curving around the corner of the room, the desk with the open hatch, the corkboards filling one wall. She even recognises the smell: a mustiness coated with a faint tang of something like tobacco.

  Behind the desk a man is speaking into the phone. He holds up one finger to let her know he will only be a minute. He is smiling at her be
hind a full beard and thick eyebrows that knit together in the middle. One arm is resting on the counter in front of him. She places him in his mid to late forties, a good ten years older than she is, and yet she also notices how toned he is beneath his thin white shirt, its sleeves rolled up a few inches above his wrists. A tail of some tattooed animal snakes out from one arm.

  He doesn’t fit the setting, she thinks. He would be much better suited to a surfboard than behind the desk of a police station, and yet at the same time his smile makes her feel comfortable. Like she has made the right choice coming here in person, rather than phoning.

  As soon as he hangs up the call she steps forward. The creases carved into his skin only serve to make him look more attractive, more weathered. The lines around his eyes betray the fact they’ve seen too much.

  Grace clears her throat. ‘I’m here to report a missing person,’ she tells him. She is nervous, though she doesn’t know why exactly. Maybe it’s being in a police station: the authority; the seriousness of the situation. Maybe it’s that she doesn’t know where her inquiries are going to lead. Whatever it is, she has left Rachel’s house more on edge than she has been all morning, and now she is standing here with the man behind the desk smiling kindly at her, and all of a sudden she has an urge to turn round and run out of the building.

  ‘Okay, can you give me some details?’ he asks her.

  ‘Her name is Anna Robinson.’ She speaks as clearly as she can, despite her nerves. ‘She’s thirty-six years old. Nearly thirty-seven, actually. Her birthday is in January. Sorry, I don’t know what details you want me to start with.’

  ‘That’s fine.’ His smile widens. She can see the twinkle of his bright blue eyes, and finds herself thinking again that he is very attractive. And weirdly this makes her feel calmer, makes her realise she has nothing to worry about. She is here to report a crime, not even one she’s a victim of, and certainly not one she is guilty of.