‘Mrs Henshaw?’ Gardner said when she hadn’t spoken for a while.
‘Yes. I’m here,’ she said.
‘There’s something else. Are you alone?’
Abby felt sick. He didn’t want her to be alone. Why didn’t he want her to be alone?
‘Is your husband there?’
‘Yes,’ Abby said. ‘He’s downstairs.’
‘Okay,’ he said, clearing his throat. ‘I just wanted to let you know I’ve managed to contact Simon Abbott. I spoke to him this afternoon.’
Abby felt the breath slip from her. Relief that it wasn’t bad news. Fear of... what? That Simon was involved? She closed her eyes. ‘Is he back?’ she asked.
‘No, not yet. We didn’t manage to catch him before he caught his connecting flight out of Dubai. He arrived in Brisbane in the middle of the night or morning, whatever it is over there. He’s trying to find a flight home but I don’t know how long that’ll take. He said he’d try and get the next one out, he’s on stand-by.’
‘Did you tell him?’ Abby asked. She heard Gardner sigh.
‘I told him that... I told him Beth was missing,’ he said.
‘And?’
Another sigh. ‘I told him you’d been hurt. I didn’t...’ Gardner seemed to be considering his words.
Abby put him out of his misery. ‘What did he say? He must’ve asked questions, must’ve wanted to know what was going on?’
‘I told him I needed him to return as soon as possible. He agreed. Let’s wait until he gets here.’
Abby closed her eyes. She hated herself for even considering it. She knew it wasn’t possible. But... ‘Could he? I mean, what if he...’
Gardner paused, the dead air uncomfortable. ‘Let’s just see what happens when I speak to him.’
The phone rang downstairs, shaking Abby from her thoughts about Simon. She listened to Paul speak, his voice a monotone, repeating the same thing over and over again. She’d told him to disconnect the phone – the only call she wanted was from Gardner, who could reach her on her mobile – but then the media had found that number too so she’d reconnected the landline and let Paul deal with it all. Part of her wanted them to keep printing their stories, to keep showing Beth’s picture. Maybe then someone would come forward, bring her little girl home. But she just couldn’t bring herself to speak to them, to face their endless questions, to listen to their subtle accusations.
She felt guilty for managing to sleep a few hours the night before. Paul soothed her by telling her she needed to be rested when they brought Beth back. She considered changing the bedding on the crib so it would be nice and fresh for Beth’s return but she just couldn’t bear to wash away the smell of her little girl.
Abby walked into Beth’s bedroom. Her hand grazed the wall and she thought of how she and Paul had spent hours decorating the room, how he’d smiled at her from across the room, paintbrush in hand, and how she’d blanked out her mistakes and told herself it was going to be fine. She’d let the excitement take over. She stood over Beth’s crib and watched her tears fall and soak into the sheets.
Outside she could see a small crowd of people, mostly reporters, and a couple of news vans. Other people milled about looking at the house, wondering what was going on behind closed doors. A woman leaned against one of the news vans, smoking. Abby couldn’t see any sign of a cameraman. She watched the woman take one last drag and then flick the butt across the street before looking up at the window. Abby ducked away. Downstairs the phone rang a few times before Paul answered. Abby moved back to the window. The woman was still staring but was now talking on the phone. Abby walked away and went to the top of the stairs. She could see Paul standing in the hall.
‘Please, just leave us alone. Please,’ he said and hung up. In the living room his mobile started ringing and he disappeared to answer it. Abby stayed where she was, trying to listen to his conversation but his voice was quiet, exhausted.
Paul came out and started to climb the stairs before stopping, noticing her there. ‘I thought you might be sleeping.’
Abby shook her head. ‘I heard the phone,’ she said. ‘Was it that reporter? The woman out there?’
Paul nodded. ‘She wants to talk to you. I told her you were sleeping.’ He looked down at his mobile, still in his hand. ‘I have to go out,’ he said. ‘I need to sort some things at the shop.’
Abby wanted to say something. Ask what was so important it had to be done now. But she just nodded and sat down on the top stair.
‘I can stay if you like,’ he said. ‘It’s just Laura’s going away. She said she’d stay but... there’s no point...’ He looked up at Abby again. ‘I just need to sort some things out and then I’ll be back.’
‘Okay,’ Abby said.
Paul turned to walk away before stopping and climbing the stairs. He bent over and kissed Abby on top of her head. ‘I promise I won’t be long,’ he said.
Abby leaned against the banister and watched him go. She could hear the TV left on downstairs but the sound of being alone overwhelmed her. She wished he hadn’t gone but knew it was a cover anyway; anything that needed doing could wait. He just needed time alone in his sanctuary. He didn’t have the heart to open the shop. He’d just sit there, flicking through the children’s books that he’d earmarked to give Beth when she was old enough. It was better than sitting in the house all day, listening to the phone ring.
She wondered why he didn’t want to stay with her. Had she been too distant? Had she pushed him away when he was suffering too? She tried to talk to him but it felt forced. She knew it was wrong but she felt like the pain belonged to
her
, not him. This was her tragedy. She was the one who’d lost her daughter.
After a few minutes she went downstairs and turned off the TV. She walked through to the kitchen and stood a moment before returning to the living room, finally sitting down.
She tried not to think of anything but Simon came to mind. Where he was? Did he know? She hadn’t tried to call him again. Didn’t know what to say. He hadn’t tried to call her. What did that mean? She wondered if he was finally on his way home. What would happen when she saw him?
Abby wondered how long this would go on, if Beth would ever be found. How long had it been? Two days? It felt like a lifetime. Would this be her life from now on? Walking from room to room like some kind of wraith. Unwashed and unfed. She wondered what would happen when Paul found out the truth. And he would, eventually. She planned to sit him down and tell him everything. All of it. Let him decide what to do. She couldn’t imagine life would ever be right again anyway. But she couldn’t do it.
She felt the tears well in her eyes and tried to fight them, tried to stand. But the tears came and she couldn’t stop. The disbelief, the denial, of Beth’s disappearance had finally slipped away, replaced by the realisation that Beth was gone. She was gone. Abby slid down from the chair and curled up on the floor, covering her face with her hands. She screamed but in her mind it sounded like an animal. Her face burned, her throat closed up. She felt like she was dying. For a moment she wished she was.
She lay there on the floor, slowly starting to breathe again, feeling her chest rise and fall. She hiccupped the last few tears and then was silent. The floor was hard but she felt she could stay there forever. Or at least until this was over.
Abby didn’t know how long she lay there. The light changed outside. Paul hadn’t come home. She wanted someone to come and pick her up. She needed someone.
Slowly she pulled herself from the floor and reached for the phone. She dialled Jen, needing to talk to her.
‘Hello?’ Jen said.
‘It’s me,’ Abby said and heard a man’s voice in the background. ‘Jen?’
‘Abby? Hang on.’ Abby listened to Jen mumble something and heard a door slam. ‘Abby? What’s up? Has something happened?’
‘No,’ Abby said. ‘No, I just...’
‘Are you alright?’
Abby nodded. ‘I’m okay. I just wanted... DI Gardner told me he’d spoken to your builders. I’m sorry.’
‘Don’t worry about it,’ Jen said. It sounded like she was smoking. ‘Listen, I’m just in the middle of something. Can I call you back?’
Abby deflated. She knew her friend could be petty at times but she didn’t think she’d hold a grudge, not now. ‘No, it’s fine. I’ll speak to you later,’ Abby said and hung up before she started to cry again.
Abby held the phone against her chest. She needed to do something. Why wasn’t she out there looking for Beth? Why wasn’t she banging on doors? She looked at the phone in her hand. She could call Gardner. She ran her fingers over the phone. Her finger stopped over the buttons and before she changed her mind she pressed 1471. She listened to the number and pressed 3. Someone picked up straight away.
‘Hannah Jones.’ Abby said nothing. ‘Hello?’
‘Is this..? It’s Abby Henshaw,’ she said. ‘I want to talk to you.’
Chapter Twenty-Two
Abby opened the door to the reporter, Hannah Jones. She hadn’t expected the two men standing with her, one holding a camera, the other a microphone.
‘I just want to talk to
you
,’ Abby said.
The reporter looked like she was going to argue but instead nodded over her shoulder to the two men. ‘Give us a minute,’ she said to them.
Abby opened the door wider and let Hannah in, ignoring the looks from the other people outside. She saw the cameraman roll his eyes and he and his mate walked over to the wall and sat down. Hannah closed the door behind her. Abby led her to the living room.
‘I don’t want to talk on camera,’ Abby said. ‘Can you do that? Can you just write something?’
Hannah looked around the room. ‘I’m a TV reporter but I guess I can do that.’ She smiled at Abby. She didn’t look very old, maybe mid-twenties, but she seemed confident, like she knew what she was doing. ‘But TV reaches more people, you know,’ she said and shrugged. ‘It’s up to you.’ She walked to the window and picked up a photo frame. ‘Is this Beth? She’s beautiful.’
Abby took the photo from her and wondered if she was doing the right thing. ‘What do you want?’ she asked.
‘You called me. I thought-’
‘No,’ Abby said. ‘I mean what do you want me to do? How does this work? Does it help? Have you ever reported on something like this-’ Abby stopped. She was asking the woman all these questions but she didn’t even know what
she
wanted from it.
Hannah walked to the settee and sat down. ‘I can’t tell you what to do. I can tell you that if you want to do this to get your message out, then the best way is to give me an interview on camera. More people watch TV than read the paper. We can record something; it’s not going to go out live.’
‘You think it’ll help?’ Abby asked again.
‘Yes,’ Hannah said, pressing her lips together. ‘I think it will. The more people who see this, the more likely Beth will be found.’ She leaned forward and smiled at Abby. ‘I know you did a press conference with the police but they won’t keep showing that. It sucks but you need to keep giving them something new or else people lose interest. It’s sad but true.’
Abby ran her hand across her forehead.
‘So?’ Hannah said. ‘Should I bring the guys in?’
Hannah thanked Abby and walked to the door, telling her to call her anytime if she wanted to talk again. Abby felt sick. She didn’t want to believe what the woman had said to her, but why would she make up something like that? Throughout the interview she wished someone would come in and tell her she was doing the right thing, or even that she was wrong and put a stop to it. She wished Paul would come home or Jen would call her back. She wished Gardner would show up and tell her he’d found Beth. But no one came and Hannah asked her question after question while the two men stood there looking uninterested.
Hannah tried to shake her hand again but Abby ignored her and as she closed the door she heard one of the guys say, ‘It would’ve been better if she’d cried.’
Chapter Twenty-Three
‘It was revealed this afternoon that police would be using divers in the search for Beth Henshaw, suggesting that hopes for finding her alive are fading. I spoke to Beth’s mother, Abby Henshaw, earlier in what was an emotional interview.’
Helen watched the scene cut away to Abby Henshaw. She sat with her hands on her knees. The reporter’s voice, off-screen, was soothing but it sounded fake. Abby’s eyes darted around. She looked nervous. She looked awful.
‘What went through your mind when you realised Beth had gone?’ the reporter asked.
Helen shook her head. It was a stupid question. This woman clearly wasn’t a mother. Helen knew what she would feel. She knew she wouldn’t be thinking, she’d just feel her heart being torn out.
Abby sat there without speaking for a few seconds, she glanced at the camera for a split second and then looked away again. ‘I just...’ she started. ‘I didn’t...’ Another look at the lens. ‘I didn’t believe it. I didn’t want to. I thought maybe I was wrong. That I was confused. I wanted to be wrong. I couldn’t understand it.’
‘And how do you feel now? What’s gone through your mind over the past day?’
Abby shook her head. ‘I feel guilty,’ she said. ‘I feel like I should’ve stopped it. I keep thinking is it my fault?’ She looked at the reporter. ‘I just wish that...’
‘Wish what, Abby?’
‘I wish... I just want her home. I just want Beth home. Whoever has her, please, just bring her home.’ Abby closed her eyes.
‘The police have been searching throughout the area, they’ve appealed for witnesses to come forward but so far no one has provided them with anything. No one has seen Beth. There’ve been no sightings, no witnesses. Do you think the police are doing enough?’
Abby looked confused. ‘Yes, they’ve been... I’m sure they’re doing everything they can-’
‘I’ve been told the police are going to start searching local rivers and waterways, that police divers are being brought in. Do you think this is an indication of where they think the investigation is going? Have they suggested to you that they’re changing the focus of their search?’
‘What?’ Abby asked and looked around her at the people off-screen. ‘What are you talking about? The police are still looking for my daughter. Beth is still alive. Someone out there has her and they’re going to find her.’
The scene cut back to the reporter standing outside the Henshaws’ house. ‘An emotional scene, I’m sure you’ll agree. Since I spoke to Abby Henshaw a few hours ago, police have confirmed that as well as the police divers, they
will
be continuing their search on land of local areas with a team of over a hundred police officers, as well as having the cooperation of forces across the country. So perhaps not all hope is lost yet.’
The picture cut back to the studio. ‘Hannah Jones, in Redcar. In other news...’
Helen switched off the TV. She wondered if the police really thought the baby was dead and how long they’d keep searching. She wondered how that reporter could sleep at night. And she wondered why Abby Henshaw hadn’t cried once.