A Cry in the Night (8 page)

She stuffed the notebook back in her bag.

‘You’re just trying to look after a friend, I understand,’ she said, checking her watch a little theatrically. ‘Thanks,
Bud. I know it’s hard, and upsetting too. But we’ll get there, I’m sure of it.’

‘Are you going?’ he asked, surprised that the torture was coming to an end.

‘I am. Thank you again.’

He was confused by this.

‘It’s good to know that someone’s watching out for Sarah. I think she feels very alone.’

He nodded, unsure whether she was friend or foe.

‘Tell you what,’ she added. ‘If I hear anything, I’ll come and find you, so you’re the first to know.’

She could see how her words pleased him. Ten minutes and she had him on a plate. She wondered just what Sarah had been able to do to him, and what lengths he would go to for her.

It was dark outside. Zoe walked away fast, her speeding mind setting the pace. She could see why eyes inevitably turned to Sarah, but was also a little reluctant to hand this ammunition over to Sam without more detail. Out of context it looked bad, but something about this town and these men made her wary of jumping to any kind of judgement. Her mind was racing so fast that she almost didn’t see David, sitting in his car, watching her as she marched past. She stopped to face him.

‘Hello? What are you doing out here?’

He said nothing, just drove off. She watched the car turn a corner and disappear. She looked up. Thick clouds hid the stars and moon. She broke into a run to get back to the hotel. Not from fear, but to get away from the silence.

Cam and Lee had been teasing each other about it for months. It had gone beyond flirting to a single dare – they were going to fuck in the showers at Bennington Public Swimming Baths in Oldham just before closing time; just after the last person had gone into the changing rooms. They had nearly done it the week before but there was a man with two toddlers there, which had put them off.

The shower area had twelve nozzles sticking out from the tiled walls, six on each side. There was enough space for swimmers to walk between these showers, either heading out to the water or into the changing rooms at the other end. The showers themselves were a very public space, and that’s what made the dare so delicious.

They chose a Thursday because that was always the quietest day of the week, though neither knew why. They changed as normal, entering near closing time, and swam separately for half an hour, never talking, just catching the
other’s eye and laughing to themselves, swollen with their bubbling desire.

There were just two other people there, a woman swimming with her son as the lifeguards came along and politely ushered everyone out. They got out of the pool and walked slowly towards the showers, their wet feet slapping against the tiles. It was the only noise. They saw the lifeguard glance at them, then check the pool, and then head out. Finally, incredibly, they were alone.

Lee leaned against one wall, pressing the shower button with his back, his eyes fixed on Cam. The warm water splashed onto him and they both laughed. She pressed the button on the opposite wall, then turned to face him, letting her bikini top slip to the floor. He pulled down his swimming shorts and they fell around his ankles. She stepped out of hers. Now they were both naked. The thrill hardened into lust as they stared at each other. They were only teenagers, their bodies still thin and unblemished, still deliciously half-baked.

‘Quick, come on,’ she whispered, glancing nervously at the changing-room doors. Lee took a step towards her, his heart thumping. He glanced towards the pool, not really looking, only interested in Cam. But then he stopped and looked again, and saw the woman’s head at the far end of the pool. She was still in the water and when he saw that she was looking at him, he stumbled in shock.

‘There’s someone there!’ he hissed at Cam, and they hurriedly threw their costumes back on. The shock quickly turned into hysterics at how close they’d been to getting caught. They giggled together, trying to make no noise, clutching each other. And then they looked out to the water. Yes, the woman was there. On her own, in the deep end, her mouth just above the water. Cam said later that the way she floated reminded her of a crocodile.

They would have just scarpered and got changed, but Lee thought it was weird, the way she was just bobbing like that, after everyone else had gone, after the guards had told her to get out. So they went over to her a little gingerly, suddenly feeling cold after the showers, feeling weird to be so skimpily dressed. They padded back along the pool’s edge. Lee said that the woman watched him all the time. He couldn’t see her mouth from under the water, but he was sure that she was smiling at him.

Cam noticed it first; the swaying shape beneath the water. It was so unexpected that she didn’t really understand what she was looking at. She just noticed the gentle movement, the slow drift. It took a while to register that there was a body, held down by the woman who still smiled lazily at Lee. A little boy with bright red trunks. His face was turned away from them, pressed up tight against the woman’s stomach.

They didn’t know what to say. The woman just stared at them. Then Lee saw the body too and his legs started shaking.
He started cursing, then screaming. Cam ran, leaving him there, finding a young lifeguard who was as ill-equipped to cope with this as she was. He, in turn, called the police.

The woman never got out of the water. Eventually she was dragged out by two officers, clutching the boy to her as they did so. The two of them collapsed onto the side like the catch of the day. She just stared up and away from them, that terrifying smile locked on her face. Unblinking, delirious. The boy seemed so calm, it looked like he hadn’t even tried to struggle.

The woman’s name was Elizabeth Harrison. The boy, James, was her son. She was happily married to Duncan, a tall, muscular Scot who ran a successful business importing stone (for tiles) from Turkey, Greece and the Ukraine. She was a socialite and had also been a member of the local council’s planning committee. When the police asked her friends and colleagues about her, they had all used the same words to describe her: ‘bright’, ‘confident’, ’determined’ and ‘normal’.

Elizabeth hasn’t spoken since that day. She is in a secure wing at a psychiatric facility in Kent. She smiles but her gaze never reaches the person sat opposite her. It is as though she’s somewhere else, she has escaped, she is safe and happy. And this brings a sense of rage and injustice to those who see her. They wish her damned to hell.

The fucking witch.

*

Sam put the file down. He rubbed his eyes, checked his watch, then placed the file on top of the others. Witches. The idea, the word, seemed so stupid. An image blinked into his mind of Sarah smiling up at him from the lake, clutching Arthur tightly to her chest. He dismissed it at once. He was a practical, logical man and fairytales were not a part of his world.

He rang his daughter, but there was no answer on her mobile or at home. He worried about this for a bit before stacking all the files in an even pile and shoving them in a drawer. But they didn’t feel secure enough there, so he lugged them back to his car and dumped them in the boot.

As he slammed the door shut, he saw Ashley Deveraux standing there, watching him. It was as if she’d appeared from nowhere. He looked at her for a moment and then shook his head. A tiny, almost imperceptible no. He saw a flicker of irritation cross her face, but he didn’t want to talk to her, to argue with her, to be seen with her. He turned his back, reopened the boot and organised the already organised files.

When he turned again she was gone.

Tim pulled the old-fashioned lighter from his pocket and stared at his engraved initials in the metal. It was a present from his father. He lit a cigarette, then started dragging the bins down to the edge of the drive. The sun was setting and the fells glowed with its dying light. He loved being up there, loved their colossal majesty. He wanted to go walking now, get to the top and breathe in the cold air like he did when he was little. His dad used to take him, just the two of them, and they’d stare down at the patchwork countryside below, hearing nothing but the wind, feeling wonderfully alone.

He lugged the last bin over the paving and dumped it down a little too quickly so that it nearly overturned. He grabbed and steadied it, then stood up straight and looked down the road. He saw his neighbour, Alby Kingston, walking over and he prepared himself for platitudes and sympathy. Alby’s wife, Jenny, had always been disapproving of Sarah, and there had been plenty of sparring (some of it rather
unpleasant) before the children’s disappearance. Now, faced with a real-life, right-before-your-very-eyes tragedy, she’d become all eyes and heart, while Alby would skulk about behind her, unable to think of a word to say. He approached Tim and gave him a cheery salute.

‘It’s got warmer all of a sudden,’ Alby said with a sad smile.

‘It has,’ Tim nodded.

‘Jenny was asking after you,’ he said, and pulled an apologetic face. ‘Not that I’m not,’ he added hastily. ‘How are you, mate?’

‘Oh, you know.’

‘I see the police are back again.’

‘Yes.’

‘Different ones. Brought in experts this time, have they?’

‘I’m not sure if they’re anything more than just different, to be honest with you.’

He dragged deep on the cigarette, realising that he was stuck here with Alby until he’d finished it.

‘Do you need any food? Jen keeps rattling on about bringing something over, but says she’s not sure she’s welcome.’

Tim wasn’t going to rise to this. ‘We’re fine, but thank you.’

‘It’s easy enough to stuff in the freezer for one of those days when it’s too much hassle. I’ve even managed to do it myself, and you know what I’m like in the kitchen!’

Tim thanked him again, and declined the offer once more. Alby just nodded but didn’t head back to his home, seemingly unaffected by the awkward silence.

‘So no news at all?’ he asked after a while.

‘No.’

‘Oh dear. It’s been a long time now. How’s Sarah?’

‘Up and down. You can imagine.’

‘I can. You really must drag her out, though. It can’t be good for her to be locked in that house with the curtains closed like that. Can’t be good for you either.’

‘We each cope in our own way, Alby.’

‘I’m interfering, sorry.’

The cigarette was almost done. Tim saw Alby staring at his fingers and realised that he was timing their meeting by it as well. He waited for him to cut to the chase.

‘You do seem rather trapped in there, matey. No one to talk to.’

‘I have my wife.’

‘Yes, of course. Yes, you do. But you don’t seem to have anyone else. You know, like at the pub. A pint, a chat. A bloke’s way to unwind.’

Another deep tug. Tim breathed out the smoke, dropped the cigarette on the floor and killed it with the heel of his shoe.

‘God, I don’t need to tell you this, do I?’ Alby prattled on. ‘You’ve lived here all your life. A proper local. So there’s no
reason for you to be on your own. And Sarah, well, she’s got Bud.’

Tim caught Alby’s eye and saw that he meant a lot by the phrase.

‘He’s hardly around here these days,’ he replied gruffly.

‘So we’ve seen.’

‘You seem to see a lot,’ Tim replied, and picked up the flattened butt, dropping it into the bin.

‘Yes, we’ve seen an awful lot, Tim. But I’m on your side. We’re all worried about you, mate.’

Tim felt that he was meant to press Alby on this, and drag the hidden meaning out of his words. But he was silent, his eyes fixed on the stupid green plastic bins.

‘I’ll get Jenny to pop some food over then,’ Alby said and turned to leave. But he didn’t go right then, he hovered, hoping for more.

‘Thanks,’ Tim muttered.

‘Well then,’ Alby said, as though pleased to have had his say but also disappointed not to have said more. He walked away and his words began to bounce about in Tim’s head.

He watched Alby go and was embarrassed when he turned around sharply and caught him staring. He found himself fiddling with the lid of the bin until he was sure that Alby was back inside. He looked up again and the sun was lower, the peaks were no longer illuminated. He imagined his wife, sat at the table in that airless room, and for the first time,
imagined her plotting about things he didn’t understand. He looked up again at the peaks. Their majesty seemed tarnished. Right now they were just dirty silhouettes against a fading sky.

‘Sarah Downing seemed nice enough when we met her,’ said Zoe, watching Sam throw stones into the lake.

‘Nice? Is that what you thought of her?’ Sam said as he scrabbled amongst the rocks, discarding pebbles that were the wrong shape or size.

‘Well, no, not “nice”. But not a child killer.’

The stones hit the water and were swallowed up. She watched him lumber about before finally turning to her.

‘You’re unhappy,’ he said. She shrugged an acknowledgement back at him. ‘Okay, let’s go through it again,’ he said, and waited for her to take the lead.

‘Arthur and Lily leave school but don’t go home. Why?’

‘Because of Sarah’s temper, perhaps.’ Sam said. ‘Like Bud told you.’

‘Maybe they just wanted to play.’

She bent down and scooped up a couple of pebbles herself.

‘What was the weather like on the day?’ Sam asked.

‘Dull, but not rainy.’

She looked around. It was dull today as well. The kind where the cloud hangs thick and low. It was quiet and the lake was dead calm. The wind would cause tiny flurries across its surface, but the further you looked out, the more it felt like someone had placed a steel lid on top of it. She threw her stones and felt a little weak at how much further Sam’s flew.

‘I suppose it could have been both,’ she conceded.

‘Okay. But their mother was expecting them home.’

‘That’s what she said.’

‘So they’re a bit naughty and come down here …’