The Missing: The gripping psychological thriller that’s got everyone talking... (23 page)

I am wearing a jumper that’s so long the sleeves cover my hands, and a pair of jogging bottoms that are rolled up at the waist and above my ankles. After two days of wearing the same clothes I’ve been forced to raid my dad’s wardrobe. Mum is several sizes smaller than me and there’s no way I’d fit into her size 10 clothes without splitting something. It’s been strange spending so much time with my parents with all their idiosyncrasies on show – Dad watching game shows back to back each afternoon, flicking between channels the second the closing theme music begins, whilst Mum tucks herself up on a kitchen chair and calls a seemingly endless number of friends for ‘a quick catch-up’.

They tiptoed around me for the first twenty-four hours, asking if I was okay or if there was anything they could get me but now they largely leave me to my own devices. Not that there’s anything to do other than watch TV. I’ve spent most of my time in the spare room, running over the events of the last few weeks trying, and failing, to make sense of it. Sonia would tell me that I should let myself grieve for Billy but I can’t. Not yet.

When I woke up this morning the first thought that went through my head was, I’m going to the police today. The second thought was, I need to call Jake and Mark first.

I’ve rung Jake several times over the last couple of days. The first time I called I was worried that he’d be falling apart without me to keep an eye on him but he sounded more stable than he’s seemed in a while. His main concern was the reason why I’d left home. He thought it was because he’d confessed to hitting Billy and was hugely relieved when I said it wasn’t. He told me that he was back at work and that he’d made up with Kira. He didn’t specifically mention his Tinder ‘friend’ but he did reassure me that he wouldn’t be repeating his mistakes and that I didn’t need to worry about him.

Mark seemed fine too. He said how strange it was to wake up and find an empty space where I should be and that he missed seeing my face when he got home from work. I asked if he’d been eating and he joked that, because Jake and Kira didn’t even know how to turn on the oven, it had been left to him to feed everyone and could I please come home before he burnt the bottom out of every pan we own. He said he and Jake were getting on; that they were eating together and that Jake and Kira had joined him to watch a film one evening.

‘We even had a couple of conversations,’ he said. ‘And they didn’t descend into arguments or mudslinging. Jake’s not a bad kid. It’s a lot for someone his age to deal with. For anyone to deal with.’

I could hear the tenderness in his voice when he said his son’s name and it reassured me. Whatever happens to me they will be fine. Mark and Jake will pull together and look after each other. What’s left of my family will remain intact.

Mark picks up the phone on the first ring.

‘Hello, darling, how are you?’

‘Good. I just wanted to say good morning to you before you go to work.’

‘Good morning to you too!’ I can hear the smile behind his words. Relief too. ‘So, what are you up to today?’

I take a deep breath. This will be the last lie I tell him. There will be no more secrets once I’ve spoken to the police.

‘I thought I’d go into town, maybe do a bit of shopping or have a coffee on the waterfront.’

‘You’re going out?’ He sounds surprised. ‘That’s great news. I’ve got a few appointments in Cheltenham this afternoon. I don’t imagine I’ll be home until eight tonight. Will you be …’ He tails off but I know what he wants to ask me.

‘I’m not sure when I’ll be home. Soon, hopefully.’

‘Do you want to speak to Jake? I think he’s up. Someone’s in the bathroom anyway.’

‘It’s okay. I’ll call him on his mobile.’

‘All right then, sweetheart. Enjoy the shopping and coffee and I’ll see you when I see you. Take care of yourself. I love you.’

‘I will. Bye, Mark.’ The call ends before I can tell him that I love him too.

I ring Jake next. Unlike Mark’s phone Jake’s mobile rings and rings and then goes to answerphone. I try again and finally it’s answered.

‘Mum,’ he says, sounding out of breath. ‘Sorry, I was in the shower. Kira didn’t bother to tell me that my phone was ringing.’

I hear the irritation in his voice and worry who he’ll confide in if I’m in prison. I’m not the only one in our family who bottles things up. ‘What’s the matter?’

‘She said I can’t go to her photography exhibition next week. She says it’s too personal.’

‘Maybe it’s to do with her dad.’

He sighs. ‘Maybe. Who knows?’

‘Whatever her exhibition is about it obviously makes her feel vulnerable and you need to respect that.’

‘But it feels like she’s keeping secrets from me.’

‘And you’re not keeping secrets from her?’

‘Fair enough.’

We both fall silent.

Then he says, ‘You are going to come home, aren’t you, Mum?’

I try not to think about the knife in my wardrobe and what will happen when I hand it in to the police. ‘Yes, son. I am.’

Jackdaw44:
I can’t stop thinking about you.

ICE9:
Me neither.

ICE9:
I feel so guilty though. We shouldn’t be doing this.

Jackdaw44:
Stop then.

ICE9:
Really?

Jackdaw44:
Yeah. If you want to stop we stop.

ICE9:
I thought you’d make it more difficult.

Jackdaw44:
Not if you’re not happy.

ICE9:
But I am. That’s the problem.

Jackdaw44:
I don’t think you really want to end it, do you?

ICE9:
I know I should …

Jackdaw44:
But?

ICE9:
I like the way I feel when I’m with you.

Jackdaw44:
And how’s that?

ICE9:
Happy. And free.

Jackdaw44:
Me too. X

I drive past the house three times before parking outside. There’s a gap on the street where Jake usually leaves his van and Mark’s car isn’t in the driveway. Liz’s driveway is also empty. There are no lights on in our house but I watch the front and back doors for a few minutes anyway, just in case Kira suddenly appears, her hair unbrushed, her top slipping from her shoulder under the weight of her camera equipment, frazzled and running late.

When no one emerges from the house I look at my watch – 10.17 a.m. – then open the driver’s-side door.

I’d expected to return home to a tower of plates in the sink, a bin full to overflowing and a pile of pizza boxes stacked up on the table, but the dishwasher is full, a fresh load of washing has been folded and stacked in the basket and there’s food in the fridge. The living room is similarly well kept; the rug has been hoovered, the blanket on the back of the sofa is straight and neat and there are no mugs or dishes on the side tables.

I’d imagined that my home would fall apart without me in it but somehow they’ve managed without me. It feels like for ever since I quizzed Jake in the garage about his relationship with Kira and he called me a control freak. I’ve been in control my whole life: of my family, of the office at work, of my mind. Over the last few months I’ve lost control of everything. There’s only one more decision I have control of – whether or not I tell the police about the knife.

The tote bag is just where I left it, buried in the corner of the wardrobe under a pile of winter jumpers. I peer inside, to check the knife is still there, then snatch up the bag and hurry back down the stairs. My mobile rings as I reach the kitchen but I don’t pause to answer it.

The ringing stops as I hurry out of the back door and sprint across the road to my car. My mobile starts up again as I open my handbag to retrieve the keys and I flip it open, certain I’ll see
Mum
,
Jake
or
Mark
flashing on the screen. Instead it says
Withheld number
. Probably someone wanting to check if I’ve reclaimed PPI or ever been injured in a road traffic accident. I move my finger towards the end-call button, then change my mind. It could be DS Forbes.

‘Hello?’

‘Claire, it’s Stephen. Please don’t put the phone down. Please! It’s urgent.’

Irritation rises in my chest. He withheld his number knowing I wouldn’t have answered a call from him. ‘Sorry. It’s not a good time.’

‘Caroline’s left me.’

‘What?’

‘I just got home and all her stuff is gone.’

‘Got home from where?’

‘I … I went out last night. Slept on a friend’s sofa. Please, Claire, I need your help.’

I stare out of the window, at the traffic rushing past my car and the neighbour three doors down struggling to pull her bin in from the street. I always knew that Stephen and Caroline’s marriage was shaky, what with the stress of IVF and everything, but I’d assumed they’d managed to put all that behind them once they’d decided to stop trying for a baby.

‘Please, Claire, she likes you. Would you ring her? Convince her to speak to me.’

‘I’m not sure I’m the right person.’

‘I can’t ask anyone else. I’m just … I can’t …’ His voice cracks and he bursts into tears.

As he sobs down the phone I look across at the tote bag on the passenger seat beside me. I feel sorry for Stephen, I really do, but I can’t put off going to the police. I’ve left it too long as it is.

‘And … talked … Billy …’ I can barely make out what Stephen is saying for the sobbing. ‘It was my fault.’

‘Sorry? What was that?’

‘Billy told me he was in love with someone but I thought it was just a stupid crush. I told him to man up and move on.’

‘Billy was in love with someone? Who?’

‘I don’t know,’ he sniffs. ‘Someone he couldn’t be with, that’s all he said, and I changed the subject. And I shouldn’t have because then he disappeared and that fucking paedophile Jason Davies dragged him off the street and killed him.’

‘You know about Jason Davies?’

‘John told me. I can’t … I can’t believe I’m never going to see Billy again.’

His words run together as he speaks and it hits me. He’s drunk. At 11.05 a.m.

‘Stephen, Stephen, listen!’ I hold up a hand, even though he can’t see it. ‘Slow down. Firstly, we don’t know that Jason Davies had anything to do with Billy’s disappearance. And secondly, why is it your fault that Billy disappeared?’

‘I just said.’ He sniffs noisily. ‘He told me the day before that he was in love with someone and I told him to man up instead of talking to him about it.’

‘And you think that’s why he ran away? To be with someone he loved? Or because he couldn’t be with them?’

‘I don’t know. Why else would he have disappeared in the middle of the night? I should have talked to him about it. I should have given him advice instead of telling him to—’

‘Man up. Yes, you said.’ My heart races as I process what he’s just told me. This is new. Billy being in love with someone. This could give us answers. ‘Stephen, think. Did Billy give you any clues about who this person might be? Did he mention a name? Say how he met her?’

‘No. Nothing.’ He blows his nose. ‘And I keep thinking back to that day … when we had lunch at the Lodekka. It was my fault Billy got punched. I told him to tell Jake about Mark.’

‘Tell Jake what about Mark? What are you talking about, Stephen?’

‘I’m in the Ostrich pub. Meet me and call Caroline and then I’ll tell you.’

The line goes dead and I stare at the phone, waiting for him to call me back. Minutes tick by but it continues to lie silently in my palm. When I ring him back it goes straight to voicemail. I try again. Same result. I look back at the bag on the passenger seat. If I take it to the police and they arrest me I’ll never find out what Stephen knows. But what if it’s got nothing to do with Billy’s disappearance? What if he’s just drunk and feeling sorry for himself and he’s using Billy’s memory to manipulate me into calling Caroline for him? I need to get to the police station. Now, while I’m still feeling brave.

I glance into the rear-view mirror, spot Jane Hargreaves from three doors down raising a hand in greeting, and make a decision.

Stephen doesn’t even attempt to stand up as he spots me striding across the pub towards him. He doesn’t smile, wave or speak. Instead he reaches for his pint, wraps his thick fingers around the glass and sinks the whole thing in four or five messy gulps.

‘I would ask you if you’d like another,’ I say as he sets the empty glass on the table. ‘But I think you’ve probably had enough already.’

‘Yeah, right!’ He runs a hand over his shiny forehead, then wipes it on his blue sweatshirt, leaving a sweaty stain. His eyes are dark-rimmed, his skin blotchy and lined. ‘Go on then, if you’re offering.’

I ignore the request. ‘No work today then?’

He glances over my shoulder towards the bar, points at his empty pint glass and grins as the barman gives him a weary nod.

‘I take it that’s a no.’

He shrugs.

‘Are you going to tell me why Caroline threw you out?’

‘Fuck knows.’ He pushes his mobile across the table towards me, sliding it through a puddle of beer. ‘Ask her.’

I pick up the phone and wipe it on the hem of my cardi. ‘I need you to tell me what happened last summer first.’

‘Eh?’ He looks confused.

‘When Jake and Billy had a fight outside the Lodekka on my birthday. You said you told Billy to tell Jake something about Mark.’

‘No. Ring Caroline first.’ He folds his arms across his chest. He may be drunk but he’s not drunk enough to forget the conversation we had fifteen minutes ago.

‘Stephen, I’m supposed to be somewhere.’

‘Ring Caroline.’

‘Fine.’ I push his phone back towards him. ‘But I’ll use my phone if she’s ignoring your calls.’

She picks up on the third ring. ‘Hello, stranger. I haven’t heard from you for ages.’

‘I’m with Stephen. He asked me to call you.’

She gives an exasperated sigh. ‘Don’t tell me, you’re in the pub?’

Ask her, Stephen mouths as he lurches forward in his seat. I wave him away.

‘He seems upset about an argument you’ve had recently. He said you’ve moved out.’

‘Yes, I have. I don’t know what he’s told you, Claire, but I’ve had enough. A day doesn’t go by when he doesn’t have a drink and he’s getting worse. He pissed in the wardrobe when he came home from the pub the other night and I’m pretty sure he’s been drinking at work.’

I look at Stephen, with his flushed cheeks, puffy face and enormous gut, and it all makes sense – the reason his hands shook when he was making the coffee, why he seemed so jittery when I walked into the office. He had the DTs. God only knows if there was water or vodka in the bottle on his desk.

‘I didn’t know that, Caroline.’

‘No, well, you wouldn’t. You don’t have to live with him.’

Please, Stephen mouths. ‘Please.’

I lower my gaze but I can still feel his eyes boring into the top of my head. ‘What if he agreed to go to AA or something? Or couple’s counselling?’

‘I don’t know, Claire.’ There’s something in the way she sighs that reminds me of myself. She’s exhausted. She can’t take any more.

‘I don’t know if it’s us not being able to have kids, or work, or Billy going missing,’ she says after a pause, ‘but he needs to sort himself out. I can’t keep living like this, not knowing where he is or what he’s doing. I’ve had enough of being woken up when he stumbles into the bedroom at all hours of the night. Why can’t he be more like Mark? You don’t see him falling apart, do you?’

We’re all falling apart, I think, but not all of us show it.

As the barman places a pint of lager on the table I twist round in my chair, so Stephen can’t see my lips, and lower my voice. ‘Do you still love him?’

Caroline hesitates. ‘I don’t know. He’s not the same man I married. He’s changed, and not for the better. I think I’d be happier on my own.’

‘It’s not too late. He can change.’ I look back at Stephen and he nods. ‘He still loves you.’

I don’t know why I’m acting as a marriage counsellor for a man who has insulted my husband, criticized my son’s girlfriend and admitted to goading one of my son’s into punching his brother. It goes beyond getting answers from Stephen. Maybe I’m tired of being surrounded by unhappiness. Maybe I see shades of myself in Caroline. Or maybe I can relate to their situation. They lost a child. They’re still grieving.

Caroline sighs again. ‘I’m sorry, Claire. I know you’re just trying to help but it’s not as if I’m overreacting to a couple of drunken nights. Things have been bad for a while. What happened last night was the last straw. I think it’s over.’

My heart sinks, and not just because I know it’s not the answer Stephen is hoping for.

‘Are you okay?’ Caroline asks. ‘Stephen told me about Jason Davies and what he said. Have there been any developments? I gather you haven’t been in to work for a while. Have the police said—’

‘No. There’s no news.’ I glance towards the door as two men walk into the pub, laughing and punching the air. My car is parked in a dodgy one-way street nearby, the tote bag tucked under the passenger seat. I think I’ve hidden it well enough that anyone walking past won’t see it and I don’t imagine car thieves operate this early but I can’t take the risk. ‘I’m really sorry. I’ve got to go, Caroline.’

‘Oh.’ She sounds affronted. ‘Okay then.’

‘I’ll give you a ring soon. Talk to you properly.’

‘No worries. Take care of yourself, Claire. Bye.’

Stephen reaches for his pint and drains half of it in one gulp.

‘Well?’ he asks as I tuck my phone back into my handbag. ‘What did she say?’

‘She’s still angry. You’re going to have to work hard to win her round.’

‘But she’ll give me a chance?’

I want to lie. I want to tell him that she loves him and she’s just a bit pissed off but I can’t do that, to either of them.

‘I don’t know.’

‘Oh, for fuck’s sake! Fat lot of good you’ve been.’

‘Stephen, I tried.’

‘Bollocks.’ He drains the pint and then signals to the barman. ‘Another pint and a whisky chaser, please.’

Then he hitches up the sleeves of his sweatshirt, revealing his tattooed forearms. ‘I don’t know what you’re looking so smug about,’ he says.

‘Me?’

‘Yeah. You and Goldenballs. You can pity me all you like, Claire, but you haven’t got the first clue about the man you married. You’re the one who deserves pity, not me.’

‘I’m not listening to this.’ I push back my chair and stand up. ‘I tried to help you and now you’re insulting my husband because you’re feeling sorry for yourself. Stay here and drown your sorrows, Stephen. I’ve got more important things to do.’

I reach for my handbag and start walking away but I haven’t taken more than three paces before he grabs my wrist.

‘Wait!’ He looms over me, stinking of fags, sweat and beer. ‘You need to hear this.’

‘No.’ I wrench my arm away. ‘I really don’t.’

‘There’s something you don’t know about Mark.’

I turn back. The barman, the two men in the corner of the room and a young lad playing the fruit machine all turn and stare.

‘You need to hear this, Claire.’

I stalk back to him and push him down towards his seat. ‘Keep your bloody voice down.’

‘Mark kissed Billy’s teacher.’

‘What?’ I sink into a chair.

‘You heard me. That’s why your boys came to blows in the garden of the Lodekka last summer. While you and Liz were in the loos Mark got a call from his boss. When he left to answer it Billy said he hoped his dad wasn’t being bollocked again because Miss Christian wasn’t here to kiss him better. He said it quietly, so only I could hear, and I laughed. Jake wanted to know what was so funny so I told Billy to tell him.’

Stephen falls silent as the barman approaches our table and places a pint and a glass of whisky in front of him, but the self-satisfied smirk on his lips stays in place. I want to tell him that he’s drunk and he’s talking shit but I can’t.

‘Why would Billy say that about Miss Christian?’

Stephen shakes his head. ‘I’ve said enough.’

I stare at him in disgust. ‘No, you haven’t. Tell me what Billy meant.’

‘No. I’ve changed my mind.’

As he reaches for his pint a wave of fury courses through me and I sweep it clean off the table. It hits the ground and explodes, showering my lower leg with glass and beer.

‘Tell me. Now. Or I’ll give Caroline a call later and convince her never to take you back.’

Stephen remains straight-backed in his chair, refusing to be intimidated, but as his gaze shifts from mine I know that I have won.

‘I’ll tell you,’ he says. ‘But you won’t like it.’

The barman approaches with a brush and pan in his hands and a weary expression on his face. I sit back down.

Stephen waits until the barman has tidied away the mess, then sits forward in his seat, elbows on the table.

‘I loved Billy,’ he says. ‘Really loved him. But we weren’t always close, you know that. He used to hero-worship Mark but I noticed that changing when Billy hit his teens. I’d seen Jake do the same thing. It happens with boys, when they grow bigger and stronger. They feel like men, not little boys, and they question their dad’s authority. Mark did it with his dad. I would have done it with mine too, if he hadn’t fucked off.’ He laughs drily. ‘But I kicked off at John a few times, even if he was just my stepdad. No one was more surprised than me when I ended up joining the firm instead of Mark.’

He stares off wistfully into the distance and I clear my throat.

‘Yeah, yeah.’ He reaches for his whisky and necks it. ‘So I wasn’t surprised when Billy came round my house one Sunday and said that his dad was a dick. He said Mark was coming down hard on him for doing badly at school. But then he started going on about how weak Mark was and how he had no respect for him.’ He scratches the back of his neck. ‘He said he was embarrassed by him.’

‘Embarrassed? Why?’

He reaches for his empty whisky glass and raises it to his lips. A single drip trickles into his mouth. ‘Because of what he saw.’

I don’t like the way this conversation is going. I want to leave. I want to walk out of the pub before Stephen can say another word but I force myself to stay in my seat. ‘Go on.’

‘Billy went to the pub one night. It was some time last summer. He was meeting a mate who was going to smuggle a couple of bottles out so they could get pissed in the park. Billy spotted Mark and some of his teachers from school in the pub and he hid behind a skip so they wouldn’t see him.’

‘Mark was with Billy’s teachers?’

‘No. He was by himself. Anyway, he came out to take a call. It was his boss, Billy said. Mark sounded really pissed and he was trying to keep the conversation light-hearted but then he started pleading.’

‘What for?’

‘His job. Mark was saying that John had had a heart attack and he thought he was going to die and that was the reason he hadn’t been meeting his targets, and that he was sorry. He begged his boss not to fire him. He said he had a wife and two kids to support and a mortgage to pay.’

I stare at him in horror. Mark’s boss nearly fired him and he didn’t tell me?

‘That’s not the worst of it,’ Stephen says, misinterpreting the expression on my face. ‘Mark started to cry then. Really blubbed down the phone to his boss, apparently. Billy said he’d never been so embarrassed in his life, listening to his dad sobbing down the phone. He said his dad was a hypocrite for the way he’d laid into Billy about the trouble he’d got into at school. His dad acted like he was the big “I am”, like he was this strong, respectable pillar of the community that his sons should look up to, when really he was weak and spineless. A snivelling little shit, Billy said. He told me he couldn’t respect a man like that – a man who’d rather beg than tell his boss to fuck off. According to Billy, Mark was still crying when he went back into the pub. That’s when one of his teachers went over to him and he kissed her.’

‘Mark kissed Edie Christian?’

Stephen glances away. ‘Yeah. Billy didn’t take it too well. First the begging and the crying, then his dad snogging his teacher. He put a brick through Mark’s car window.’

‘Billy did that? Mark said it was some random vandal.’

‘Mark didn’t know who did it. He didn’t see him, did he? Billy said when he got back home afterwards he was so angry he wanted to smash up more of Mark’s stuff but you were in bed so he destroyed a photo album or something.’

‘He blacked out all the photos of Mark. I’ve seen it.’

‘Oh, right. Well, there’s something else you should know too.’

I grit my teeth. ‘What?’

‘The real reason Mark didn’t get into the police.’

‘When he was nineteen? Why the hell are you bringing that up now?’

‘Because you need to know the truth.’

‘I know the truth. He didn’t get in because a couple of his uncles had criminal contacts. Mark told me.’

Stephen raises his eyebrows. ‘He lied. You thought I was a twat for saying you should be careful about Mark and Kira living in the same house. You thought I was shit-stirring but I’m not the one with a record for having sex with an underage girl.’ He shifts in his seat as I gasp and cover my mouth with my hands. ‘Hmm … I thought it would feel good to get all that off my chest but I feel like shit.’ He slumps forwards, head in his hands, and lets out a low moan. ‘No wonder Caroline has left me. I’m a total cunt.’

I don’t say a word. There isn’t a shred of sympathy in my heart for the man sitting in the chair opposite me. How can there be when he’s just ripped it apart?