The Hidden Girl (29 page)

‘Fifty-eight. Were you and Dad playing last night?’

Till about 2 a.m., if he remembered right. ‘Yup.’

‘Did you beat Dad?’

‘We both won a couple.’

Daniel nodded at an empty whisky bottle. ‘What does whisky taste like?’

Will eased out his back. ‘What food do you hate?’

‘Courgettes.’

‘It tastes like courgettes.’

Daniel bounced on his legs, making him groan.

‘Can I try it? I’m eleven.’

‘Have you asked your mum?’

‘No.’

‘Why not?’

‘Because she’d say no.’

‘There you go then.’

Will watched Daniel for a while, remembering what he was like at that age.

The same, but not the same.

Will made himself and Daniel breakfast at 7 a.m., even though his stomach protested. He’d avoided Laurie the previous evening. He knew she wanted to force him back to Tornley to talk to Hannah, so he’d escaped to the pub with Ian. This morning he left Daniel to his game, then sat in the tiny back garden with a coffee, in a futile attempt to shake off his hangover. Laurie appeared at 7.30, wrapped in a purple bathrobe and slippers with puppies’ heads on them. The top of her hair was sticking up at a right-angle.

She sat beside him on the bench and laid her head on his shoulder. She smelt of sleep and toothpaste. ‘Did you sleep OK?’

‘Yeah, thanks,’ he lied.

‘How are you feeling?’

‘Don’t want to talk about it.’

She sat up and sipped her tea. ‘You need to get back there and sort it out. There’s a child involved now.’

‘No, there’s not.’

‘Will! She banged his arm. She’s so beautiful. It’s weird – she’s like a cross between the two of you.’

He shook his head. He didn’t want to know. The truth was that when Hannah had held up the photo in front of Barbara, he’d been so angry that he’d focused his eyes beyond it.

‘Sometimes these things are not meant to be, Lor,’ he said.

‘Don’t be stupid.’

‘I’m not. It’s not just what happened yesterday.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘I did something last week.’

‘What?’

He checked to see that Daniel was out of earshot. ‘A girl at work.’

Laurie slapped him across the head.

‘Will Riley! What’s wrong with you?’

He rubbed his cheek. ‘I didn’t sleep with her.’

‘You didn’t?’

He drank his coffee. ‘I nearly did. Only time, since I’ve been with Hannah.’

Laurie made a goofy face up at Caitlin looking out of the window in her pyjamas. The little girl smiled shyly when Will waved at her.

‘Oh, don’t be an arse,’ Laurie said. ‘You’re not going to mess this up with Hannah. She might be a bit up herself, but Nan thought she was the best thing that ever happened to you. Nan only stopped worrying about you when you met her.’

That was unfair. Will threw back the rest of his coffee.

‘And for what it’s worth, I don’t think Hannah’s lying, but even if she was, there’s a reason for it, so you still need to sort it out,’ Laurie finished. ‘She’s had a difficult year, Will.’

Sam and Daniel started fighting in the living room. The noise stabbed at Will’s sore head. He needed to get out of here.

‘I don’t know, Lor, maybe I’m just like the old man.’

She looked sad. ‘Don’t say that. Not after what Nan did for us.’

He stood up, realizing he couldn’t deal with this. ‘Listen, thanks but I’m going back to London.’

She grabbed his arm. ‘No.’

He pulled away. ‘It’s fine. You lot have stuff to do.’

She grabbed him again. ‘Please tell me you’re not going to do what I think you’re going to do.’

He gently released her hand and pulled on his jacket. ‘Lor, it’s not your problem. You need to worry about this lot. You’re a great mum. Nan always said it. It’s you that’s the success in this bloody family.’

He leant down and gave her a quick hug, and she took his face in her hands. They looked at each other with the brown eyes they’d inherited from their useless dads. She kissed his cheek, then he left.

That same morning Hannah sat at the kitchen table in Will’s T-shirt, her cheeks puffy from broken sleep.

She couldn’t find her phone. She’d searched the whole house. The photos she needed to show Will – and anybody else – were definitely gone.

The first thing she’d done when she woke was to check outside, to see if Will had returned last night. When the car wasn’t there she checked the spare room, in case he’d taken a taxi. When she saw an empty bed, her fear returned. Where was he?

She needed to find Elvie, to prove to Will that Dax and Madeleine were lying.

Rubbing her eyes, Hannah walked up to the attic and peered out at the smallholding to see if there was any sign of her.

Her heart leapt.

Frank and Tiggy’s blue van was in the driveway.

They were back.

She took the stairs two at a time down to the bathroom, washed and dressed, then walked out, entered through the wall-gate and passed the polytunnels. The curtains in the bungalow were open. She banged on the front door and heard the click of heels.

Tiggy flung open the door. The hall was white and tidy, with a laminate floor and a vase of flowers on the table. She looked worried.

‘Oh, it’s Hannah,’ she shouted back into the house.

‘Tiggy, I’m so glad you’re back. Is Elvie here?’

Tiggy frowned. ‘Why do you ask, Hannah?’

Hannah took a deep breath. ‘I’m really sorry, but something bad happened while you were away.’

Tiggy’s hands stayed firmly by her sides. She turned. ‘Frank!’ she called. ‘Can you come here.’

Frank appeared wearing a yellow golfing jumper, his face equally serious.

‘Hi, Frank. Listen, this is a horrible thing to have to tell you, but I am afraid when you were away I saw Madeleine hurting Elvie. She hit her across the face three times, and kicked her. I asked Dax to ring you, but for some reason he told Madeleine instead, and now she’s gone mad at me. Is Elvie here? Is she OK?’

Tiggy’s eyebrows remained flat, clearly trying to compute this unpleasant information. Frank’s happy demeanour from last week was nowhere to be seen.

Hannah continued. ‘I just thought I should tell you – she’s been upset. And I need to get Will to speak to her. Madeleine’s so angry that she’s told him a ridiculous lie about me and . . .’

She stuttered to a halt. Frank and Tiggy exchanged a look.

‘Hannah, I have to say that Frank and I are both very upset,’ Tiggy started. ‘We came home to some terrible news. Dax’s wife, Carol, is a good friend of mine and, I have to tell you, she’s in absolute bits about what you’ve done.’

Hannah blinked in disbelief. ‘No. Tiggy, that’s not true.’

Tiggy’s flying hands finally made an appearance.

‘Dear, this is a very quiet little place. We’ve all lived peaceably beside each other for a very long time. The idea that Madeleine would hurt Elvie, or that Dax would lie like this, is preposterous. And as for Carol – well. I mean, for goodness’ sake. You know she’s just had a hysterectomy?’

Hannah couldn’t help it. She snorted. ‘Tiggy. Frank. You’re not listening to me. I’ve just told you that I saw Madeleine hitting Elvie. Why are you not reacting?’

Tiggy pursed her lips. ‘Hannah, Elvie’s been helping Madeleine out since she was a little girl. She loves Madeleine. And Elvie’s not easy, Hannah. She has her tantrums. Madeleine’s one of the few people who keep an eye out for her.’ She shook her head impatiently. ‘Honestly, I’m sorry, but you’ve been here five minutes and everyone in the whole village is upset. We were all dreading some new development next door, but honestly, now we’re all wondering if that might have been a better option. I really can’t hear any more of this.’

Hannah laughed bitterly. ‘But I haven’t done anything! I’m just trying to help your daughter.’

Tiggy nodded sideways at Frank. He stepped onto the verandah.

‘We’d like you to leave now, please, Hannah.’ He put out a hand.

Hannah stayed put.

‘No, Frank. Please, I’m not lying. I filmed the farmer hitting Elvie.’

‘You filmed it?’ Frank said. ‘We’d like to see that, please.’

Hannah sighed. ‘Well, it’s on my phone, and I think Dax stole it.’

Tiggy let out a horrified laugh that creased her blue eyelids into sockets of shimmering silver. ‘Please, Frank, I can’t listen to any more . . .’

Frank tried to guide Hannah down the stairs. She didn’t budge.

‘No. This isn’t right. You’re not listening to me.’

‘And I’d appreciate it if you would stay away from our property,’ Tiggy said.

When Hannah didn’t move, Frank took her elbow firmly. Realizing they were not going to listen, she shook him off and marched out through the gate.

There was a clang behind.

She turned to see Frank locking it and walking away.

Hannah threw her hands up in the air. ‘What the HELL is going on here?’

The traffic on the A12 was clear, so Will arrived in London by Friday lunchtime. After a stop-off at the shopping centre in Shepherd’s Bush to buy clothes, a bag and toiletries, he returned to their old road. As his parking permit was still valid for a while, he parked outside their former flat, before heading down to Grayson Road.

He found Arndale Road easily again.

It had emerged from hibernation since he was last there. It was busy with cars now. Kids circled on bikes, music came out of flats. A woman in a vivid yellow African headdress sat on a step, chatting to a white-haired elderly neighbour who was trimming a bush. Will climbed the stairs, knowing that once he did this there was no going back.

He heard laughter inside as he arrived at the door.

When Clare opened it, she saw his bag. ‘Oh. Will. Hi.’

Behind her, a boy was playing on a Wii. A console was in Clare’s hand, too.

He thought of trying to explain, but gave up and shook his head. ‘I need somewhere to crash on the sofa for a few days.’

Clare didn’t flinch. ‘Well, my friend, you are at that place,’ she said, motioning him in. She flashed him a sunny smile.

Hannah returned from her bizarre meeting with Frank and Tiggy and tried to take stock.

People – for some reason she couldn’t understand – were telling lies about her. Why?

Her instinct was to ring Jane and ask her for advice, as she’d done so many times before. But her former boss was in the States, her mobile number lost on Hannah’s missing phone.

She tried to think.

What would she do at work, if an imprisoned teacher’s statement was being discredited.

Jane’s voice entered her head.

Find the evidence.

What else could she do – without the photos – to prove the truth to Will?

And then she knew.

Madeleine said Samuel had seen her having sex in Dax’s truck. That clearly wasn’t true – and Samuel knew it.

Hannah leapt up.

In the dining room she found her TeachersSpeakOUT office box and searched until she found the voice recorder she used for witness statements. Fired up, she locked up, fetched her bike from the garage and cycled down the driveway, remembering too late that the map book was in the car. Imagining herself lost deep in the Suffolk countryside tonight, she turned left towards Tornley. It was still worth the risk.

Checking, from the bend, that Dax and his wife weren’t around, she rode along till she found the narrow road to the beach, and continued onto it. Any time she heard even a hint of a car engine in the distance, she jumped off and pulled her bike through the hedge.

She didn’t want to meet Dax or Madeleine today. She needed to speak to Samuel on her own.

Hannah reached the beach ten minutes later, her forehead covered in a light sweat and peppered in tiny flies. The beach was empty too, despite the warmer weather. Keeping in the long grass, she pushed her bike over the shingle around the headland. When Samuel’s shack came into sight, she dropped her bike down into the grass, lay down and checked. Dax’s red truck was nowhere to be seen, just a beaten-up mustard hatchback that she assumed was Samuel’s. Without Dax there, she prayed there was a possibility the old man might speak to her.

She pressed the ‘Record’ button on the voice recorder and placed it in her shirt pocket.

A few minutes later there was a movement.

Samuel came out of the door, carrying a dustbin bag. He moved slowly on his gangly legs, as if something hurt. His height sat oddly on a man of his age, suggesting the energy of a much younger man. He put the bag in a big black bin, then returned inside.

The door lay open.

A smell of burning drifted out from inside, and a clang of metal.

Hannah walked over nervously. ‘Hello?’

Samuel appeared at the door.

Close-up, he was even older than she’d realized. His chin was unshaven, with a rash of weak white hair across it. His navy jumper was stained with oil.

‘Samuel, hi. I’m Hannah. I was here the other day with Dax?’

The old man stared down at her. He didn’t seem completely with it.

‘I was helping with the tyres. Dax, from Tornley?’ she tried.

He peered over her head, as if trying to spot someone he recognized.

She raised her voice, in case he was deaf. ‘Dax. Carol’s husband.’

A flicker of movement in the rheumy eyes. ‘Carol. Bill’s girl.’

She shook her head. ‘No, Dax’s girl. Dax’s wife?’

‘Bill’s girl,’ he repeated.

She was about to contradict him when an image returned from yesterday. The photo in the hallway in Dax’s house that she’d recognized. An older couple with a daughter. That woman had been Carol as a teenager. And now Hannah knew why the man’s face was familiar. That big, fleshy face on the narrow shoulders. The pale blue eyes.

Carol’s father was
Bill.

Bill was Dax’s
father-in-law
.

Hannah stared.

That would explain why Carol was in Bill’s house.

Samuel’s face had clouded over. Then he turned, as if remembering what he’d been doing. He ran his fingers over the work-counter behind him, as if he were searching for something.

‘Samuel,’ she tried again. ‘Dax says that you saw me in a truck the other day. When the snow was here. Me and him. Doing something. Can I ask you what you remember, because he said you saw something?’