The Whispers

by Perks, Heidi

  ‘No, no,’ he said. ‘It’s actually very useful.’

  Grace smiled to herself. She was glad she was being useful. She appeared to have struck the right chord with him.

  ‘Grace, can you tell me about the last time you saw Heather?’

  ‘Yes,’ she said. ‘It was yesterday.’

  ‘Can you remember what time?’ he asked.

  Yes, she can remember exactly what time she last saw Heather. It was 10.55 p.m., when Heather disappeared over the edge of the cliff.

  Grace had been thinking about this all day, wondering what time the police would start investigating what had happened to Heather, whether it would be when they were all still at school, or maybe not until the following day. And she’d thought about what she was actually going to say, because she was still so very mad at Anna for the way she had treated her, and there was a part of her that thought her friend didn’t deserve to get away with what she had done.

  But then Anna was her best friend. And being a best friend trumps everything else. And sometimes that means that you have to lie for your friends and do whatever it takes for them not to get into trouble.

  Grace told Marcus Hargreaves that she had last seen Heather in school, and she went on to tell him that she had been at Anna’s house all night, but she tucked some truths away for now, in case, one day, she might need them. Grace knew that she was very good at playing a long game if she needed to.

  PART THREE

  Chapter Twenty-four

  31 December – Two weeks later

  Anna

  It is the first time I have been back in the Old Vic since the night of our pre-Christmas drinks. It wasn’t my preferred choice, it wasn’t anyone’s, but we left it so late it was the only place Nancy could book a week before New Year’s Eve. She’d reserved a table in the corner of the pub – a table for seven, as Eric is missing from the group. Nancy has told everyone they couldn’t get a babysitter at late notice but this isn’t the real reason her husband isn’t here. Nancy just needs to work things through in her own time. Lately I’ve realised how much good friends allow each other to do this.

  Personally I am glad of Eric’s absence. It is more comfortable without him and his rallies for so-called debates that are really just alcohol-fuelled arguments. Nancy seems calmer herself tonight too, happier and more relaxed, and besides, it would never have worked with Rachel sat at the same table.

  At the last minute the thought of the whole evening became too much to bear and I wanted to call off our own babysitter, a seventeen-year-old girl who lives opposite and hasn’t yet had any inclination to go out partying with her friends. The thought of going back to the Old Vic was too much; but as Ben pointed out, I shouldn’t stay away from the places that are our haunts. Grace mustn’t drive me out of our home town.

  ‘And anyway,’ he reminded me, ‘we haven’t heard from Grace. As far as we know, she’s already left Clearwater.’

  I know this isn’t true. Grace may have been uneasily quiet in the two weeks since our conversation on the beach, but this doesn’t mean she has left town. I haven’t told Ben that I have seen her on a couple of occasions when I purposefully drove past her apartment block.

  I had started counting each day that I hadn’t heard from Grace after we last met, wondering what her silence meant. It was Christmas Eve when I took the car for some last-minute shopping and detoured past her apartment block, spotting her leaving with Matilda and Graham in tow.

  I questioned her motivations for not being in touch with me, because her deathly silence goes against everything I would have expected from her. But then isn’t that also so clever of her? A way of keeping me on my toes? One thing I know for sure is that she is not gone from my life yet.

  Later that day there was a card addressed solely to me lying on the mat. Inside it read, Happy Christmas, Anna. Missing you, G x

  I’d ripped it up and put it straight in the bin and restarted my count of the days that I hadn’t heard from Grace. Today it is seven.

  Alan places a tray of drinks on the table and sits down next to Caitlyn, wrapping an arm around his wife’s shoulder. I smile warmly at his jacket, the little handkerchief peeking out of its pocket. Despite the fact it is New Year’s Eve, the night is subdued and none of us rush to grab our drinks like we’d usually do.

  In the corner three guys are setting up a band. It is only nine thirty and I’m already wondering how quickly Ben and I can escape after midnight. ‘We should have booked a taxi,’ I say to him as I reach for my wine. ‘Maybe we should order one now?’

  ‘For what time?’ Rachel is calling over the table. ‘I hate knowing I have to be gone by a certain time.’

  ‘I don’t want to be too late for the babysitter,’ I say.

  ‘I know, but tonight …’ she protests. ‘It’s New Year’s Eve.’

  ‘I know,’ I say, but I hadn’t wanted to leave Ethan. I’d still rather be at home with him because there is a feeling of disquiet hanging over me. All day I’ve had a sense of foreboding and deep down I wish I hadn’t come out, but I fought against the impulse because it is New Year’s Eve and Ben has told me our lives mustn’t stop.

  ‘I think I might just phone and check everything’s okay,’ I mutter to no one in particular.

  ‘Anna, what’s up with you tonight?’ Rachel asks as she takes a large glass of Chablis and twists the stem in her fingers, glass poised to her lips before she takes a gulp. ‘This is supposed to be a celebration. It’s New Year’s Eve, guys: time for new starts and resolutions; but look at us. We all look miserable,’ she adds this quietly, glancing at Nancy out of the corner of her eye. ‘Okay, I know we’ve had an odd couple of weeks but we’re here together. Shift around,’ she commands. ‘Come on, girls, let’s take one end of the table and the boys can have the other.’

  We obediently move seats until Rachel is the other side of Nancy, and Caitlyn is perched next to her. The band begins to play and I don’t get around to calling the babysitter and checking that everything is okay at home.

  For a moment I forget everything is far from right as we drink our wine and the four of us laugh at a joke Rachel shares, and maybe we are all desperate to recognise the importance of our friendship, even though it has shifted in the last two weeks.

  They don’t know everything about me any more, my best friends. Though I tell myself they never have, it seems different now, more poignant. What they do know is that I went to see Grace’s mum to find out why she had come back. They know the depth of Grace’s control over me, her obsession. But they know nothing of what she can do that really scares me.

  Ben worries me, too. I catch him looking at me and I smile, but he barely gives one in return before he turns back to his conversation with Alan.

  Three days before Christmas he had turned to me and said, ‘I think we need to talk about the adoption.’

  ‘Zadie?’ He could not even say her name. ‘You’re not serious?’ I had gasped. We were meeting Zadie on 6 January. Let’s get Christmas out the way first, the agency had said to us. ‘Ben?’ I had pleaded. ’You can’t mean we don’t go ahead?’

  But of course this was what I’d feared. Ben brushed a hand away and dismissed the subject, and I’d been so anxious about bringing it up again that in the end I decided it would be better not to do so. If we could get to the sixth without any drama there’s no way he’d want to turn her away, surely?

  Ben’s remarks and questions have come at unexpected times in the last two weeks. I was peeling sprouts on Christmas morning when he approached me and said, ‘You must have known that what you were doing was wrong. When Grace told you to lie, you must have known.’ It wasn’t the first time he had asked and it wouldn’t be the last.

  ‘Of course I did,’ I said, dropping a sprout into the colander, my hand resting the knife against the sink. ‘But you don’t know what she was like, Ben. She had this way of persuading me, like it was the only option.’

  ‘No, I don’t know what she was like,’ he rep
lied. ‘That’s what I still don’t get, Anna.’ He reached into the cupboard for a wine glass and poured himself a large glass of red. Each of his movements brought with them a slam or a bang. I hadn’t ever known him to start drinking before midday, even on Christmas Day.

  It wasn’t for want of me trying to explain to him, but I’d hit a wall with Ben, his reaction always one of anger and what appeared to be jealousy.

  His accusations seem to twist away from what I’d done to the reason behind my having done it: Grace. I pointed out that I wasn’t having an affair, he had no right to be envious of someone who had manipulated my life the way she did so many years ago, and yet somehow instead of offering sympathy for what I’d been through he seemed angry with me.

  ‘To us!’ Nancy is saying as she raises her glass, and we all copy. I catch Rachel squeezing her arm and Nancy nods in return. I have been filled in on their conversations of the past two weeks, the tears, more of Rachel’s apologies for not having said anything sooner, her protestation that it wasn’t her, that she didn’t lead Eric on. Yes, she might have been a bit flirty with him, but it had only gone as far as what Nancy had seen.

  Nancy has chosen to believe Rachel, though I can see how much it pains her in the smile she gives as Rachel’s hand lingers on her arm, how desperately she wishes it had never happened.

  We carry on drinking our wine, and two glasses later, I am feeling pleased that we came out for the evening and that I am here with my friends, bringing in the New Year as we have done every year for the last five.

  Just over an hour later, I am standing in a short queue for the toilets and my phone pings with a text notification. I pull it out of my bag and click on the screen.

  I want to see you.

  Grace. My breath catches, tight in my throat, as my thumb hovers over the phone. I should have expected this, I think, as I glance over my shoulder to where the rest of our party is drinking and laughing obliviously. I should ignore it. I do not want to answer to Grace tonight. I should put my phone away and not keep checking it, but when I am here and Ethan is at home I can’t do that. What if she is standing outside my house right now?

  I can’t see you tonight, I text back, pressing send and then holding the phone as I stare at its screen. Three dots appear, vanish, reappear – Grace is texting and already I know this toing and froing will go on all evening.

  You owe me, Anna.

  And now I am already caught up in Grace’s game, which is exactly what she wants – to monopolise my evening and make sure she has my full attention. There is no chance of enjoying the night now, I may as well go home, though what will Ben say? I glance in his direction as I subconsciously step forward in the line.

  I should text I don’t owe you anything, but then maybe I do. I expected some fallout from our conversation two weeks ago, and I must have known Grace would have chosen her timing carefully; this, I have to admit, is pure bloody perfection on her part. Instead I reply, Okay, we can speak tomorrow.

  No. Tonight. I can come to you, Anna, if you prefer?

  Again I glance around the pub, because it is likely Grace knows exactly where I am though even that is preferable to the thought of her standing on our driveway, Ethan’s only protection a seventeen-year-old girl who would be no match for Grace.

  Ben will tell me Grace wouldn’t do anything to harm our son. ‘What do you think she’s going to do, Anna? Hurt him? Take him?’ He’ll tell me I am pandering to her again.

  Oh, but Grace could do anything if she thought it was the best way of getting to me.

  It’s in your best interest pops on to my phone screen.

  Someone in the queue behind me says, ‘Do you need the loo? There’s one free at the end?’

  I apologise to the woman, and lock myself in the end cubicle where I sit slumped forward, my phone gripped between both hands. There is something oddly calming about being contained in this tiny space, as if the rest of the world can carry on while I hide.

  There is no way I can leave the pub to meet Grace, and no way I should, and yet if I don’t, the messages will go on all evening, and then there will be calls and I cannot afford to turn my phone off for fear of not being in contact with our babysitter, in case she needs to reach me. It is only my number she has, and I don’t want to ask Ben to call her. I don’t want to ask anything of Ben, because of Grace.

  It feels like the only possible way to cope this evening is to go home. I will tell Ben I don’t feel well, he can stay here if he wants.

  With this decision made I am feeling calmer already, when another message pops on to the screen.

  I’ve spoken to the detective today.

  Then another: I’ve been speaking to him a lot recently.

  And straight after: You know who I mean, the one who questioned us when Heather went missing.

  Despite my grip on my phone, it slips out of my hand and lands on the floor. There is a crack in the glass but Grace’s last message continues to taunt me through it.

  I have seen that detective sporadically over the years, but never spoken to him. After a while, I doubted Marcus Hargreaves would recognise me. I haven’t been in the station since that long-ago time, but it’s easier for me to spot him, knowing he still works there.

  I bend down to pick up my phone and start to type, What have you said to him? But I end up deleting the text, letter by letter.

  Grace has me trapped. I know this already, and I also know she won’t wait until morning because she has likely had her response planned for days. She isn’t going anywhere tonight. And I have no choice but to meet her.

  Where? I text.

  On the cliffs. Where else?

  Of course on the cliffs, but at least I am not far, and so maybe I can escape for half an hour, I think, heading back to the table, my mind whirring with excuses. In the end, I bend down next to Ben and whisper, ‘I have to go out for a bit.’

  ‘What are you talking about?’ His face contorts into one of angry confusion that I have come to know well.

  I don’t want to explain but I have to give him something. ‘Grace is outside.’

  ‘Shit, Anna. No way.’ He shakes his head. ‘You’re not going.’

  ‘I have to Ben,’ I plead quietly. ‘I want this to be over. I want her out of my life. I think she wants to say goodbye,’ I add optimistically, though I’m sure he doesn’t believe this either. ‘I’ll be fine. I’m just outside,’ I lie. ‘I just have to do this and then …’

  ‘And then what?’ he snarls. He is holding on to my wrist, unwilling to let me go.

  ‘And then she’ll go. For good.’

  He shakes his head, but eventually he releases my arm, shrugs and waves a hand. ‘Fine.’

  I waver for a moment and then turn to leave as he calls, ‘Anna?’

  I look back.

  ‘Call me if there’s any problem,’ he says. ‘And I’ll come out in ten minutes to check.’

  ‘There’s no need to do that,’ I tell him, though I know he will and I will just have to cross that bridge later.

  I glance at Nancy, who is eying me carefully. I smile at her, and walk out of the Old Vic.

  Chapter Twenty-five

  Grace

  Grace sees Anna leaving the pub. She has her red coat on again, pulled tightly around her. She watches her walk across the car park and turn left, starting towards the cliff path. As soon as Anna is nearer she spots her and so Grace turns and starts walking, knowing Anna will follow up and up the path and then into the trees.

  It is amazing how much sound the trees can suck up. Only a few feet in and already the noise of laughter and celebration coming from the pub is dissipating into the night.

  ‘I am here,’ Anna calls behind her. ‘You don’t have to keep walking.’

  Grace ignores her as she wraps her own coat tighter. It has gone eleven on New Year’s Eve and there is a biting cold wind in the air.

  She has no idea if anyone has followed Anna and wants them to be on their own. Her friend owes her that
much, after telling her to leave Clearwater and to get out of her life. Did Anna really think Grace was going to walk away so easily?

  For two weeks she has been dealing with Graham and the fallout from the breakdown of her marriage. She cannot wait for him to leave in two days and go back to Singapore. If she never sees that man again it will be too soon. Why he has chosen now to hover around his daughter’s life she has no idea, but he has been nearby, tempting Matilda with his presence over Christmas, showing her what it is like to have a father in her life. Of course, it is Grace who will pick up the pieces when he leaves. It is as if he doesn’t know they would have been better if he hadn’t come back in the first place.

  But then, today, he announced that he wants joint custody of their daughter. That he is going to ask to be transferred to the UK because he doesn’t think it is right for Matilda to be living with Grace full-time.

  ‘Not right?’ she had screamed at him. ‘Not right? When I am the one who has been bringing her up like a single parent?’

  ‘I don’t want Matilda caught up in your games any more than she has to be,’ he had told her.

  Games. Grace had laughed at him. These weren’t games, she was just trying to deal with the people in her life who kept letting her down. All she has ever wanted is for someone to be on her side, but she’s never had that – not even her from her own mother, who had always pandered to Anna, a girl who isn’t even related to them, just like she did again recently. And certainly not from her father, who barely looked up when she talked to him.

  ‘Grace, will you just stop!’ Anna is calling out from behind her now.

  Grace pauses and turns around. They are in the dense thicket of trees now, the thrum of music from the Old Vic a distant murmur. As soon as she stops, Anna does too. Her face is a picture, Grace thinks. Despite the make-up she must have so carefully painted on for her night out celebrating, she looks ghostly and ill.