Strangers (ARC)

by C. L. Taylor

  He received a phone call from the police shortly after he

  returned home. The woman he spoke to said her name was Lisa

  Read from Avon and Somerset Constabulary, one of the sergeants on duty today. She told him that all available officers were trying to track his mum down. There was a possibility, she said, that his mum had got onto a bus and she needed Gareth to confirm

  if a captured CCTV image was in fact Joan. He leapt to his

  feet, ready to drive to the station, but Sgt Read told him that she could text him the image instead. When his phone vibrated

  with a new message his heart was in his throat.

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  ‘Yes,’ he told her on speaker phone as he gazed down at the

  blurry image. ‘Yes, the lady in the red coat with white hair is my mum.’

  Sgt Read went on to tell him that they also had CCTV footage

  of his mum getting off the bus on Park Street and walking up

  the hill, passing several shops. But then she’d turned a corner into a street with no CCTV and disappeared. ‘We’re looking,’

  she told him. ‘Right now. We’re doing everything we can to find her.’

  When she ended the call, Gareth fought the urge to ring

  her back. Why hadn’t he asked her more questions – how

  many officers were out looking for his mum? What was the

  name of the street where she’d disappeared? How were they

  looking for her and what more could they do? The grainy

  image of his mum showing her bus pass to the driver had

  completely thrown him. It was years since she’d last got on a

  public bus; he drove her everywhere she needed to go, mostly

  to the doctor’s and the dentist’s for the last few years as well as the odd day trip. He didn’t even know where her bus pass

  was; he’d never had to look for it. It had probably been in

  her handbag, along with the other bits and bobs that she

  hadn’t used for years.

  He closes the door to her bedroom. He’ll tidy everything up

  after he’s had a cup of tea. As he heads into the kitchen a loud rapping on the front door makes him clutch the counter in

  alarm. It’s the police. They’ve found something. He heads into the hallway with his heart in his mouth.

  But it’s not a pair of police officers standing on the path

  beyond his front door. It’s Kath, holding a Pyrex dish, with

  Georgia behind her, red-eyed and kicking at the ground. The

  food smells of mince and there’s melted cheese and slices of

  tomato on top. Gareth’s stomach rumbles. He can’t remember

  the last time he had something to eat.

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  ‘Can we come in?’ Kath asks, her bright tone a stark contrast

  to her daughter’s expression. ‘I’ve brought dinner. It’s lasagne. I don’t imagine you’ve been eating well.’

  ‘Thank you. That’s very kind.’ He stands back to let her in.

  Georgia doesn’t so much as look at him as she trails behind her mum, clutching a bag of salad, but she mutters, ‘thanks’, under her breath as she passes.

  A few minutes later they’re all congregated around the small

  kitchen table with plates, knives and forks and glasses of water in front of them; Gareth’s apologised for the lack of soft drinks.

  Kath looks across at him, wielding a serving spoon. ‘Big

  portion, Gareth?’ As their eyes meet she sniggers. ‘Sorry.’

  ‘Mum, that’s gross,’ Georgia mutters, her face stony.

  Gareth smiles, for what feels like the first time in days. ‘I’d love a large portion please, Kath.’

  She ladles a hefty slice of lasagne onto a plate then gestures to the bowl of salad in the centre of the table. ‘Help yourself.

  Georgia, how much do you want?’

  ‘I’m not hungry.’ Her daughter pulls the sleeves of her jumper over her hands, then buries them in her lap.

  ‘Come on. You need to eat something. Just a little bit, and

  some of that salad.’ Kath hands her a plate. ‘Right, that’s me done. Enjoy folks!’

  Gareth gratefully forks a mouthful of meat and pasta into his

  mouth. He tries not to stare at Georgia, who’s sullenly pushing a piece of lettuce around her plate with her fork.

  ‘Ignore her,’ Kath mouths across the table. ‘Bullies.’

  Gareth nods then eats another mouthful of lasagne. It’s really quite good.

  ‘So,’ Kath says. ‘Any updates?’

  Her eyes soften as she listens to his reply. She rests her fork on the side of her plate as he tells her about the last phone

  called he received from Sgt Read.

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  ‘Well that’s good, isn’t it?’ she says. ‘That they know where

  she got off the bus? It’ll help narrow down the search.’

  ‘Yeah,’ he says wishing he could match her hopeful smile.

  Beyond the kitchen window the sun is starting to sink in the

  sky. In another hour or so it’ll be gone.

  Kath catches him looking. ‘They’ll find her. Someone’s bound

  to have seen her. Her photo’s all over social media.’

  ‘Is it? I didn’t know.’

  ‘Excuse me.’ Georgia’s chair scrapes against the floor tiles as she pushes herself back from the table. ‘I’m just going to the toilet.’

  Neither Gareth nor Kath say a word as she leaves the room.

  Kath waits until the stairs stop creaking then gets up and shuts the kitchen door.

  ‘I don’t know what to do,’ she says, taking her seat again.

  ‘Things at her school are unbearable. I spoke to her form tutor today and she says there’s a rumour going around that a group

  of girls – the bullies – are trying to get Georgia to bunk off after registration to go on the rob.’

  Gareth can’t imagine a group of teenaged girls breaking into

  people’s houses. He’s completely lost touch with the world.

  ‘Shoplifting,’ Kath clarifies. ‘At the Meads, where you work.’

  ‘Right.’ He sits up taller in his chair. He can’t do anything to help Kath and Georgia with school matters but if these kids are trawling round the Meads he could. ‘Have you got photos of

  them? These girls? I could keep an eye out the next time I’m

  monitoring the CCTV.’

  ‘No, I haven’t. I’ve asked Georgia to tell me their Instagram

  handles but she won’t. And I can’t look through hers either

  because it’s private.’

  ‘Ah. The teacher didn’t tell you their names?’

  ‘I wish. It’s all “the other parties” this and “certain individuals”

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  names. It’s not like I’m going to cosh them over the back of the heads when they leave school for the day.’ She laughs dryly. ‘As much as I’d like to!’

  ‘Could you take her out of school?’

  ‘What? And have her moping around all day, popping her

  head into my beauty room whenever she gets bored? Mum can

  I have a tenner? Mum can I buy this app? Mum, can I use your

  fake tan? I wouldn’t mind if she actually wanted to talk to me about stuff but it’s like she thinks I’ve got limitless funds. Sorry,’

 
she says, ‘I didn’t mean to come over here to have a moan.’

  ‘It’s fine.’ Gareth reaches across the table to touch the back of her hand then thinks better of it and turns the movement

  into a strange, sideways bend instead. ‘We all need to talk.’

  His words sound empty, even as he says them. He looks back

  towards the kitchen window and the darkening sky and sighs,

  the voice of his three-year-old self echoing around his head.

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  Chapter 40

  Alice

  Alice has never known an afternoon at work to go as slowly as

  this one. The shop was busy when she returned from the pub

  but there was no way she could face serving on the tills, smiling sweetly and asking customers if they’d found everything they

  wanted. Lynne, folding a customer’s jumper and sliding it into a bag, spotted her walk in. Alice gave her a tight smile and a nod hello, but instead of going over for a chat, slipped past the counter and went into the staff changing room out the back.

  She hung up her coat then went into her office, pulled down

  the blinds and took out her phone. She read all the texts Simon had sent her, then read them again with a keener eye. There was nothing in what he’s written to suggest that their relationship, as brief as it was, was a practical joke. What kind of sick joke would that be anyway, leading a woman on, then scaring her

  half out of her mind? She’s certain he’s not behind the creepy Facebook messages – he’d have to be a complete sociopath to

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  do something like that – but he did lie to her about his job. She looked him up on the BBC Radio Bristol website while she was

  in the pub and there he was, all blonde hair, wonky face and

  beaming smile. No wonder he’d responded, ‘I’ve heard that

  before,’ when she told him in Costa that he had a nice voice.

  Whatever he was up to he wasn’t working as a DJ now, not

  according to the note at the bottom of the webpage:

  Simon Hamilton is currently taking a break from presenting.

  Everyone at BBC Radio Bristol wishes him well.

  What else has he lied to her about? Did Flora even exist?

  A sharp knock on the office door makes Alice hurriedly drop

  her phone into her lap. She angles herself in front of her computer screen, then says, ‘Yes. Come in!’

  ‘Just me.’ Lynne pops her head round the door. ‘We’ve cashed

  up, shutters are down and Larry’s gone home. You coming?’

  ‘Yeah. Just give me a second.’ As she shuts down her computer

  she can feel her friend studying her face. She forces herself to smile and looks across at her. ‘Are you okay?’

  Lynne steps into her office, pulling the door shut behind her.

  ‘I was going to ask you the same thing. Did something happen

  at lunchtime? You’ve been hiding away in here all afternoon.’

  ‘Look at this.’ Alice unlocks her phone and hands it to her.

  ‘What is— Oh!’ Lynne raises her eyebrows. ‘Is that . . . is that your Simon?’

  Alice nods.

  ‘I thought he told you he worked in insurance.’

  ‘He did.’

  ‘So he lied?’

  ‘Yep.’

  ‘Maybe he was sacked from the radio station and had to take

  another job?’

  ‘In insurance?’

  ‘Good point. But why would he take a break from presenting?’

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  ‘Maybe he’s ill.’ The thought suddenly occurs to her. It would explain a lot. Maybe he lied to her about what he did for a

  living because he was battling cancer and didn’t want her

  sympathy. Maybe the text message in the cinema had something

  to do with that? But it was late at night and she can’t imagine any doctor breaking bad news via text. Her first thought when

  Simon pulled her out of the cinema was that it was a family

  emergency. Maybe he was caring for a sick relative or he’d

  suffered a bereavement? Whatever it was he could have told her.

  She’s not a child.

  ’What are you going to do?’ Lynne asks.

  Alice meets her friend’s eyes. ‘I’m going to find out the truth.’

  ‘Just be careful. I don’t think it’s a coincidence that whenever you try and get in touch with Simon, something horrible

  happens.’

  Alice doesn’t make the call to Simon with Lynne in the office.

  Instead she waits until all her staff have left through the back door, then she locks up and takes the stairs to the car park. It’s almost empty and her heels click-clack on the concrete, the

  sound echoing off the walls. She walks quickly, scanning the

  dozen or so parked cars, checking they’re all empty, Lynne’s

  warning still ringing in her ears.

  By the time she reaches her car she’s breathing in short, sharp bursts. She does one final sweep of the car park before she opens her door and gets in. No one’s followed her and no one’s

  watching. No one she’s spotted anyway.

  Keeping one eye on the rear-view mirror she takes out her

  phone and calls Simon’s number. It goes straight to voicemail.

  Surprise, surprise.

  ‘Simon, it’s Alice again. I know you told me not to ring you

  or contact you again but we need to talk. I know you don’t

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  you’ve taken time off work.’ She pauses after the lie. ‘Do you know the Red Lion, the gastropub in Kingswood? I’ll be waiting there for you at eight o’clock tonight. Meet me and I promise

  once we’ve spoken I’ll never contact you again.’

  Alice fidgets in her seat, rising to smooth her skirt over her bottom before she sits down again. She reaches for her lemonade, takes a sip, then sets it back down. It’s 8.32 p.m. and she’s on her second glass. She would have switched to the jug of tap

  water after she finished the first but when the waiter came over to ask if anyone would be joining her she felt so flustered she ordered a second. Simon still hasn’t replied to her voicemail and embarrassment and regret are setting in. She shouldn’t have

  come. When she got home Emily was sitting at the kitchen table, still in her work clothes, with an open bottle of wine in front of her, one glass already gone.

  ‘I’ve saved you some,’ she said. ‘I thought we could order a

  pizza and watch that film on Netflix everyone’s been talking

  about. I just wanted to say thanks for looking after me last

  night.’

  Alice felt torn. Her daughter needed her. Emily would never

  say as much but it was there: in the forced enthusiasm in her

  voice and the tightness of her smile. If she went out Emily would finish the whole bottle, stalk Adam and Laila on social media

  and do something she regretted. Either that or cry herself to

  sleep. Sod Simon, Alice thought as she gave her daughter a hug.

  She’d already wasted too much of her life trying to figure him out and she was done with the weird messages and subtle threats.

  Did it really matter if she never found out who’d sent them?

  Let the freak who scratched her car think they’d won.

  As she changed out o
f her uniform in her room she found

  herself looking forward to a night in front of the TV with a

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  with Emily – long before Michael and Simon had entered her

  life and Adam had slid into her daughter’s DMs. The only drama of the evening would be in the film they watched and that was

  perfectly okay with her. When she walked back out of her

  bedroom, phone in hand ready to order the pizza, she found

  Emily in the hallway, pulling on her boots.

  ‘You don’t mind if we do film night another night? Amy just

  texted asking if I wanted to go to the pub with her and Jo. It’s been ages since I saw them and—’ She screwed up her face in

  apology. ‘Sorry, Mum. Do you mind?’

  Of course Alice didn’t mind. She was pleased that Emily was

  going to spend time with her friends. She might just have a pizza and wine night all by herself. That was something she hadn’t

  done in a while either. But after Emily left, and she scrolled through the options on the pizza app, her thoughts drifted back to Simon. What if he showed up at the Red Lion and she wasn’t

  there? She might miss out on her only chance to find out what

  was going on. She wrestled with herself for a few moments, then made a decision. She’d go to the pub to meet him. And if he

  wasn’t there, she’d never contact him again.

  It’s 8.36 p.m. and there’s still no sign of Simon. Alice opens her purse and takes out enough money to pay for the lemonade.

  She’s hungry and she’s pissed off and she’s going home. She

  scans the room for the waiter to ask for the bill, then inhales sharply as the door opens and Simon steps into the pub.

  ‘Alice?’ He walks up to her table, his hands in his pockets and a wary expression on his face.

  ‘You made it then.’ The steely tone in her voice surprises her.

  She’d expected to feel relieved to see him, maybe even pleased, but all she feels is a sharp stab of irritation as he pulls out a chair and sits down.

  ‘Yeah. I’m sorry I’m late.’

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  ‘I can’t say I’m surprised.’