The Girl You Lost: A gripping psychological thriller (17 page)

Trying to keep control of my voice, I say, ‘I can’t believe that after you’ve spent a bit of time with a stranger you forget everything we’ve been through over the last few days. What about Gabby? Lucas still attacked her. And if you don’t care about me, you should at least care that this is a
story
.’

Abbot stands up, shaking his head. ‘How can you say I don’t care about you? You’ve been the only person I’ve cared about for years. More than cared about. Don’t tell me you didn’t know. Everyone at work knows. Hell, my next door neighbour even knows.’

I stare at him, my mouth hanging open. I wonder if I’m mistaking what he is saying, but I see the truth in his eyes. Perhaps I have always known, but didn’t want to think about it.
Couldn’t
let myself think about it.

‘I’m sorry,’ Abbot says, when I don’t answer. He sits back down. ‘I know you’re with Matt, and he’s a great guy. I’m not trying anything … I just want it out in the open. I need to breathe. But I can’t help how I feel about you. You know we have a connection, don’t we?’

I can no longer listen, because Abbot’s words are terrifying me. He shouldn’t be saying all this to me. Not now. Not ever. I love Matt, but if there is anyone who could make me question my feelings then it is Abbot. So I do the only thing I can do.

I walk away without another word.

I
lie
beside Matt and listen to his slow breaths. He is lying on his back so I can see his profile, reminding me how much I love the way his ski-slope nose turns up slightly at the end. I am lucky to have him.

Abbot should not have told me how he felt. Whether I like it or not, his words have disrupted my already muddled thoughts. How can we continue our friendship now? I cannot pretend I don’t know how he feels. I know it is unreasonable, especially after everything he’s done for me, but I can’t seem to stop feeling angry with him.

But there are also other things causing my fitful night’s sleep. The hope I had of finding Helena, the thin strand I was clinging to, has gone. Lucas is not missing, and certainly not dead, and the only way to find out what Grace was playing at is to confront her directly, in front of Ginny. But there is no way I can do it today – I am grieving all over again for Helena, and need to take time to fully do this before I approach Ginny and her daughter. I picture the blue rabbit, still in my bag, but still can’t explain how Grace had it. This is what I’ve been going over through the night while I lie next to my peaceful husband, a man I have kept oblivious to all of this.

As I watch him, the gentle rise and fall of his chest, I know what it is I have to do right now. I edge closer to him and kiss his arm, knowing it will stir him. And I am right. He smiles before he slowly opens his eyes.

‘Morning,’ I say, burying my head in the crook of his arm.

He turns to face me, still half-asleep. ‘Hey, what time is it?’

‘Only five. Sorry for waking you.’

‘It’s okay,’ he says, pulling me even closer towards him. ‘I need to get an early start anyway.’

‘Matt? I was thinking. You know we talked about getting away somewhere? Really soon? How about Cornwall for a few days? We could leave tonight if you can arrange cover at the surgery?’ I know I’m asking a lot so I avoid eye contact, to give him time to think this through.

But within seconds a huge smile spreads across his face. ‘Really? I think that’s a great idea. But can
you
get the time off work?’

I tell him it won’t be a problem and ask if he thinks he’ll be able to as well.

‘It will be tricky,’ he says, ‘but I should be able to get a locum in to cover the rest of the week. I don’t like to do it but we do need to get away, don’t we? I’ll just say it’s a family emergency. Which it sort of is, isn’t it?’

I should feel good that we’ll be getting out of London for a while, that my head will have the space and time it needs to unscramble my thoughts. But I can’t shake the uneasiness that sits in the pit of my stomach, and has done since the day Grace found me.

After breakfast – a huge fry-up, which Matt takes delight in cooking for us – we pack two small suitcases and load them into the car. Matt has booked us a cottage in St. Ives. He took almost an hour this morning choosing the right place, while I showered and dressed, and I don’t have the heart to tell him it wouldn’t matter to me where we stay; I just need to get out of this house.

With my phone in my hand, I almost text Abbot to let him know I’m going away, but I slip it in my pocket before I can change my mind. It is better if I keep a distance from him for now. Again, a flash of anger that he has jeopardised our friendship overcomes me, even though I know it is selfish to feel this way.

Almost five hours later we are in St. Ives, driving through a small town called Downalong. Even drenched in rain, the place is beautiful, and I feel a million miles away from everything that has happened over the last week. We are lucky it is January; we would never have got a place at such short notice during the summer.

The white stone-fronted cottage Matt has picked is called Labour in Vain, and I smile at the irony. This is what I have done for the past week: tried to find a man who was never even missing, because of a girl who isn’t my daughter. I need to snap out of this and put it all behind me now.

Inside, we leave our suitcases in the kitchen and check out the cottage. It is bright and spacious, and provides far too much room for only two of us. My mind tries to picture what it would be like to come here with a family, but I shut that thought down. I am not one for moping around.

‘There’s free Wi-Fi,’ Matt says, ‘but how about we stay away from technology for the next few days and have a proper break? Just the two of us and nothing else. No internet, no phones, no work stopping us really being together.’

My eyes flick to my suitcase but I decide not to mention I have brought my laptop. I’m not sure why I packed it; probably habit more than anything else as I have no plan for what I’m going to do while we’re here, other than to enjoy spending time with my husband.

‘Fancy a walk on the beach?’ Matt says. ‘It’s only a few metres away.’

Although it is freezing, and we will have to trudge through rain-soaked sand, I readily agree. We haven’t done anything like this for years now, both of us caught up in our jobs and trying to distract ourselves from what we have lost.

Matt holds my hand as we walk, and for a fleeting moment I feel as though I am seventeen again, before we had Helena. There is definitely a before and after, an impenetrable line dividing my life then and my life now. I walked weightlessly before. I had no idea what pain was.

‘You’ve been distant lately,’ Matt says, snapping me out of my thoughts. ‘I didn’t want to bring it up, but it’s hard not to. I just feel like you’re … I don’t know … drifting away from me.’ He shakes his head. ‘That sounds so melodramatic, doesn’t it? But it’s just how I feel.’

I could say I don’t know what he means, that of course I haven’t been distant, he’s got it all wrong, but he deserves better than that. ‘You’re right. I’m sorry, it’s just all this Grace stuff really got to me.’

He squeezes my hand tighter. ‘I know. I thought it might be that, but shouldn’t that be even more reason to let me in? We’re in it together, aren’t we?’

He is right, and not for the first time I question my decision to keep things from him. ‘I just let myself believe that she was Helena. And you were so sure she wasn’t, I guess I just didn’t want to push things.’

Matt stops walking, forcing me to stop too, as he still clutches my hand. ‘Look, we often don’t agree on things but we’ve always worked it out, haven’t we?’

‘I know. I’m sorry. But I’m moving on now, I really am. Onwards and upwards!’

Ignoring my attempt at joviality, Matt resumes walking. ‘You know, I was thinking all kinds of things. That maybe you were fed up with our life together and wanted out.’

Now it is my turn to stop walking and I let go of his hand and stand in front of him, pulling him towards me. ‘Never. You’re the one thing that keeps me sane. But I’m sorry I’ve made you feel this way.’ It must have been bad for Matt to bring this up; he has never worn his heart on his sleeve.

‘You never have to apologise to me,’ he says. ‘Especially not about Helena.’

We walk some more in comfortable silence, listening to the waves sloshing against the sand.

‘I know it’s bloody cold and wet here, but it’s so peaceful, isn’t it? It’s as if nothing else exists in the world except this place.’

How right he is, I think, as we make our way back towards the cottage. I don’t even want to think about leaving in a couple of days.

T
hat evening
I cook us steak with peppercorn sauce and we don’t clear away afterwards, but leave the kitchen in a mess and settle down on the sofa to watch TV.

‘I thought you said no technology,’ I say, giving Matt a playful nudge.

‘TV doesn’t count,’ he says. ‘Besides, we’re not going to be watching much.’

And then he is kissing me, pulling my jumper over my head, and I am melting away, everything else temporarily forgotten.

A
lthough I feel much better now
, I am still unable to sleep. It is past midnight and the book I’ve been meaning to start for months now sits face down on the bedside cabinet, open at the first page. Despite my promise to Matt, I am not cut out for living without technology, and the feeling of being disconnected from everything gnaws away at me. My whole job involves the internet, so it makes me uncomfortable to steer clear of it.

Unable to stand it any longer, I climb out of bed, careful not to disturb Matt, and make my way downstairs.

I don’t turn on any lights until I get to the kitchen, and then I put only the oven light on. I warm up some milk in a pan for hot chocolate so that I don’t wake Matt with the kettle.

My bag is on the table where I left it and, offering a silent apology to my husband, I grab my phone from the inside pocket and hold down the power button until it springs to life. After a few seconds it pings with several messages, and I immediately realise I am hoping to hear from Abbot. I don’t like how we’ve left things, and feel as if I have lost my closest friend.

Most of the messages are emails – all work related or junk mail – and there is only one text. But it’s not from Abbot; it’s an unknown number.

I click on it and read the words.

And in this moment I am thrown right back to what I’ve been hoping to escape from. It feels as if my heart has stopped and I struggle to comprehend the message. I reread it several times, but there is no room for misinterpretation.

My first instinct is to call Abbot, but then I remember our argument. No, I am alone in this now and need to deal with it by myself. I hit reply and begin typing. There is no time for questions.

I stare at my phone as I wait for a reply and after a few seconds it comes.

And then I am moving, grabbing my coat and bag and leaving my hot chocolate untouched on the table.

I almost don’t want to wake Matt, but it wouldn’t be fair to only leave a note. I shake him gently, knowing this is usually enough to rouse him. ‘Matt, I’m so sorry, something’s come up at work. An emergency. And I really need to get back.’ I can only hope he is too full of sleep to question me about what exactly has happened; I have not had a chance to figure out a cover story yet.

He turns on his side but struggles to open his eyes. ‘Wha –? What’s going on?’

‘I need to get back to London, and I need to take the car, but I’ll be back as soon as I can.’ But even as I say this I have no idea what the next day will hold for me.

Matt manages to force open his eyes slightly and squints into the darkness. ‘Do you really have to? Can’t Abbot take care of it?’

‘No, not this time. You know I wouldn’t go if I had a choice,’ I say. And this is the truth.

He starts to raise his head. ‘Then I’m coming with you. I don’t want you driving at this ridiculous hour of the morning.’

I am prepared for him to say this. ‘No, I really don’t want to ruin this break for you. Look, I’ll get back as soon as I can, okay?’

Matt opens his mouth, probably to try and protest, but quickly closes it again. He knows how futile it is to try and talk me out of something once I have made up my mind. He also knows how important my work is to me, and that he would do the same. My stubbornness might annoy him but I am sure it is what he also loves most about me. That I know my own mind.

‘I really don’t like this,’ he says. ‘But I understand you have to go. Just call me as soon as you get to London, okay? And please stop along the way, don’t drive all that way without having a break.’

I agree to do all this and kiss him goodbye, my mind whirring and alert. Is it really possible I am about to find out the truth about Grace? And from Ginny, too. There are so many questions I have, not least of which is what she meant when she said she is worried about Grace. But it is pointless speculating now. I need to just drive, and get to Ewell as soon as possible.

I need to know why Ginny took my daughter.

I
t must have been almost
midnight by the time I reached his place, but he let me in, full of apologies for being so late to get to Harry’s. He told me – with a huge grin on his face – that a couple of people had seen me leave with Leanne the barmaid, so he thought he’d leave me to it.

And that’s when he must have noticed my pallor, because he stopped smiling and told me to sit down. He didn’t make me take my shoes off, as he usually did, and I only hoped I hadn’t trailed mud or anything else into his flat. Unlike mine, his wasn’t a typical student flat. It had two double bedrooms and an open plan kitchen, which was wasted on him as all he did was order takeaways or grab a McDonalds or KFC. But his parents were taking care of the rent for him, so he could live in relative luxury.

‘What’s happened?’ he asked. ‘You don’t look right.’ He fetched me a glass of water, but I couldn’t stomach drinking anything.

I sat on his couch and eventually – after several false starts – told him what I’d done to Leanne, explaining every detail while I stared at his spotless blue carpet.

He stood up when I’d finished and told me to stay put. ‘I’ll be right back,’ he said, disappearing through the front door.

As I sat there waiting, with too much silence and too much time ticking by, I became terrified that he’d gone to the police. After all, I hadn’t known him that long, so what had possessed me to believe I could trust him? But then why wouldn’t he just call them? No, this had to be alcohol-fuelled paranoia kicking in – I knew he wouldn’t do that to me. I just knew it. I trusted him, and he was the only person I could talk to about this, the only person who would understand.

So I continued waiting, staring at the blank television screen, not daring to move from my spot on the sofa, even though my bladder was about to burst. And, as fearful as I was, I couldn’t stop thinking about how much I’d enjoyed what I’d done to Leanne.

Over an hour later, he came back, with no mention of where he’d been or why he’d been gone so long. ‘It’s sorted,’ he said, sinking into the sofa. ‘Leanne won’t be reporting anything. You’ve got nothing to worry about.’

I looked at him, full of questions but no idea which one to ask first. ‘But … but I raped her.’

His voice became slow and measured. ‘No, you didn’t,’ he said. ‘Got it? You walked her home and made sure she got in okay. Then you went for a long walk, you needed fresh air to clear your head before bed. That’s it. Okay?’

‘But what if—’

‘That’s it. Okay? He repeated.

I opened my mouth but quickly closed it again. There would be no point questioning him and I didn’t think he would provide any satisfactory answers so I simply nodded my agreement, and finally reached for the glass of water he’d got me before he left.

‘Don’t bother with that,’ he said, grabbing it from me. ‘I’ve got something better for you.’ He made me a strong black coffee and by the time I’d finished it I had pulled myself together.

‘Did you like what you did to her?’ he asked.

Perhaps I should have been shocked by his question, but in the short time I’d known him I’d learnt to expect the unexpected.

Even though I already knew the answer, it took me a while to say it out loud. ‘Yes. That’s sick, isn’t it?’ I had no idea how he would take my response, but he had already helped me out, so the least I could do was give him honesty.

Then it was his turn for silence. But when he spoke, once again he shocked me to my core.

‘Why is it sick? Because society tells you it is? They do that to keep us under their control, don’t you see that? She was a grown woman – a lot older than you – and she let you back into her flat. She knew what she was doing. So maybe she changed her mind at the last minute, but that’s tough shit, isn’t it? Don’t let anyone tell you you’re not normal. Or you’ve got a problem. Do what you have to do.’

We said no more about it that night, but something had started. I don’t know whether it was me igniting something in him, or whether it was just chance that he’d come across someone so similar to him, but whatever it was, we never looked back.

And what I did to Leanne was kind in comparison to what came next.