Schoolgirl Missing Read online

  ‘You know what it is,’ said Neve, attempting to pull away. There was good reason why she’d never spoken about it. It was a parent’s worst fear. A nightmare come true. Losing a child was something no parent should have to deal with.

  ‘It’s not just that,’ said Kit, his voice taking on a firmer line. Neve tried to turn away, but he wouldn’t let her. He spoke again. ‘If only you’d let me in. Maybe I could help you.’

  Neve felt a glimmer of hope. Did he really mean what he said? ‘You know how you can help me.’

  Immediately his face darkened, and his hands dropped away. ‘Don’t, Neve. That wasn’t what I meant and you know it. We’re supposed to be giving each other time to think.’ He slipped the knot of his tie up to his collar. ‘Piss off to Jake and do your art therapy with him. It’s obviously what makes you happy.’

  ‘It’s not like that …’ her voice trailed away as Kit left the room. She didn’t finish her sentence because, in actual fact, it was like that or at least it could be like that.

  ‘And don’t forget we’re out to dinner tonight. With the Harrisons,’ he called. Neve heard him call out a goodbye to Poppy as he opened the front door, pulling it shut behind him without another word to her.

  She let out a sigh. What was it with Kit, lately? He had brought the conversation round to the art course and what had happened to her more than once. In fact, it was becoming a pet topic of conversation for him. Kit was like a dog with a bone. He didn’t give up. He always had to win.

  She pushed herself away from the worktop. Dinner with the Harrisons. Joy of joys. She couldn’t wait. Another evening of small talk with Julia, who would spend most of the time telling Neve how well her children were doing with their studies. Which universities they had applied for or been accepted at. What their interim school reports said. What extra-curricular activity they were doing, which of course, they would excel at. Neve wouldn’t have much to offer to the conversation. She couldn’t compete with any of that. Oh, she’d tell Julia how proud she was that Poppy could now swim ten metres on her own with the aid of a float and how Poppy had successfully made herself a sandwich the other day. And Julia would nod and smile, but in that sympathetic way she did to hide the obvious relief that her children weren’t less than perfect.

  And Neve would go along with Kit in the pretence that their marriage was fine, and they didn’t have a care in the world, chatting about holidays abroad, boats, wine and fine dining. And this would be totally in Julia’s comfort zone. Crikey, if Julia ever got wind that Neve was contemplating an affair then she’d probably arrange for Neve to be put on the ducking stool at the village pond.

  The sound of Poppy coming down the stairs brought her from her daydream.

  ‘Why are you looking out of the window?’

  Neve turned and smiled at her daughter. ‘Morning, Poppy. How are you?’ Neve stole a glance at Poppy’s cheek. Fortunately, there was no mark to be seen and she breathed a sigh of relief.

  ‘Why were you looking out of the window?’ persisted Poppy.

  ‘I was just daydreaming,’ said Neve. ‘Right, let’s get you something to eat. Toast?’

  Neve went about preparing the toast and jam. She remembered one of the first times she was around for breakfast and she’d given Poppy a choice of toast, crumpets or cereal. My goodness, that was a long and convoluted conversation. Kit apologised later that day and said he should have warned her not to give Poppy too many choices. Poppy couldn’t deal with too many options and she dealt with life better if she had clear and concise instructions. He’d explained that Poppy’s reasoning wasn’t developed enough to make convoluted choices. Kit had been quite clear about that and Neve hadn’t liked to argue, although privately she wondered if Kit was just an over-anxious father trying to care for his daughter. That was then. Now, Neve didn’t hail to this conviction.

  Keeping to their usual schedule, once they were dressed and ready, Neve drove Poppy down to the bus stop.

  ‘Do you want me to stay with you?’ asked Neve, looking over at the small group of kids waiting for the secondary school bus and relieved to see there was no sign of Ben Hewitt.

  ‘No.’

  ‘I’ll just wait here in the car, then,’ said Neve.

  She watched Poppy go over to the bus stop. None of the other kids looked at her and Neve wondered if that was a conscious decision based on the fact that she was standing guard. She didn’t care. In fact, she was pleased they seemed a little wary of her now. Within a few minutes the St Joseph’s bus pulled up and once Neve had seen Poppy board, she felt happy to leave and head off to her art classes with a clear conscience.

  Arriving at the art studio and pushing open the door, Neve was surprised to see the main hall empty. She walked further in and called out. ‘Hello! Jake, are you there?’

  She could hear voices coming from the studio at the back and assumed Jake must have a visitor. It was unusual that the studio was empty. Her class was a small group but, all the same, there was usually at least three or four of them there at any one time.

  The door opened and Jake appeared. Something about the look on his face stopped Neve in her tracks. A movement behind him caught her attention.

  Neve’s heart thudded against the wall of her chest as Kit walked into the main studio right behind Jake. ‘Kit! What are you doing here?’

  ‘Hello, darling,’ said Kit, walking over to her and slipping his arm around her waist, pulling her towards him so that her stomach was pushed against his groin. He kissed her on the mouth, lingering for an embarrassing moment too long. ‘After our conversation this morning, I thought I’d drop by and see how Jake was.’

  Kit released Neve from his clinch but retained a proprietorial arm around her.

  ‘Hi,’ said Jake, pushing his hands into his pockets. There was an unease about him and Neve wondered if Kit was picking up on this, or whether she was being hyper-sensitive.

  ‘Jake was just showing me some of your artwork,’ said Kit.

  Neve’s whole body tensed. She looked at Jake. ‘You showed him my artwork?’

  Jake’s expression was somewhere between apologetic and wary. ‘I thought you said …’ He looked at Kit and then back to Neve.

  Kit spoke first. ‘I asked him to. It’s not Jake’s fault. I asked him to show me.’

  ‘But you know my work here is personal.’ She peeled Kit’s hand from her body and took a step away, before turning to Jake. ‘You shouldn’t have shown him.’ Neve shook her head in silent disbelief. How could Jake betray her like this? He of all people should know that her therapy artwork was private and personal.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ said Jake.

  ‘As I said, I didn’t give him a lot of choice,’ said Kit.

  Neve strode past the two men and into the smaller studio. On the workbench in the middle on the room were several pieces of her work. She went to touch them, to gather them up but stopped. They somehow now felt tainted. Kit had seen her deepest, darkest thoughts.

  ‘They’re pretty good,’ came Kit’s voice as he entered the room and stood next to her. ‘I was thinking about getting one framed for you as a surprise for your birthday.’

  ‘They’re not for display,’ said Neve, looking at the landscape she’d painted from memory. A wide sandy beach, big rolling waves, a wintery sky. Two lone figures standing at the water’s edge.

  ‘I particularly like this one,’ said Kit, as if watching her gaze. He picked up the painting. ‘That’s very dramatic. In fact, all your paintings are. I love the use of the blues, blacks and greys. It seems quite a theme.’

  ‘Shut up,’ snapped Neve. She couldn’t stand listening to him. He wasn’t just talking about her paintings, he was talking about her fears, her regrets, her guilt. He was talking about her pain and her shame.

  Neve grabbed the painting from Kit’s hand and tore the watercolour in half. She heard Jake swear.

  ‘Fuck! Neve, what are you doing?’

  Kit tried to grab her arm. ‘Hey, hey, hey,’ he
said. She snatched her arm away and then, spotting the Stanley knife on the side, she swiped it up and slashed at the acrylic painting that lay on the table. Another one of her secrets exposed for Kit to see.

  This time Kit was too strong to shrug off as his hand clamped down over her wrist, bending her arm to the side until she was forced to drop the blade. Meanwhile, Jake had rushed over and was pulling the other two paintings away from harm.

  ‘Get off me,’ said Neve. ‘You’re hurting me.’

  Kit let go of her wrist. ‘Let’s get you home,’ he said, cupping her elbow in the palm of his hand in an attempt to guide her away.

  Neve shrugged him off. ‘I’m perfectly capable of getting myself home. I don’t want you anywhere near me right now.’ She turned to Jake. ‘And that goes for you too.’

  With that, she darted from the studio, through the larger one and out into the car park, gulping for fresh air.

  ‘Bastards!’ she yelled. ‘Both of you. Bastards!’

  The sound of laughter had her spinning round on her heel tracing the source of the noise.

  Leaning against the gatepost was Lee. ‘Tut, tut, tut, Neve,’ he said. ‘That’s not very ladylike.’

  ‘What are you doing here?’ demanded Neve.

  ‘Thought I’d join the art class. We could buddy up.’

  Neve glanced back to the studio and through the full length windows, she could see Kit and Jake talking in the main studio. She took her chance and stomped over to Lee. ‘Didn’t I make it clear enough yesterday?’ she hissed. ‘You’re not welcome here. Now why don’t you just piss off back to where you came from?’

  ‘Next you’ll be telling me this town ain’t big enough for the both of us and demanding I’m out of here by noon. Now where’s the fun in that?’ said Lee. ‘Besides, I quite like Ambleton. I’m just beginning to settle in and make new friends.’

  Neve glared at him. She just wanted him to go away. To leave her alone. She didn’t understand why he’d turned up now or what his motive was, but he had the potential to ruin everything. If Kit found out about her past, he’d leave her, she was sure, and then where would she be? She couldn’t imagine Jake would want anything to do with her either. No husband, no partner all equalled no child. She needed to get rid of Lee but threatening him and making an enemy of him clearly wasn’t going to work. She’d have to get smart.

  ‘Look, Lee, we seem to have got off on the wrong foot. Maybe we should start again?’

  ‘Well, you changed your tune quickly.’

  Neve glanced back at the art studio. ‘My husband’s in there and if he sees you, he’s not likely to be very happy. Maybe you should make yourself scarce. I’ll text you and we can catch up another day. Properly. Like old friends should.’

  Lee cocked his head to one side as if contemplating Neve’s little speech. He pushed himself away from the gatepost. ‘OK,’ he said. ‘I’ll go. I don’t quite know what your game is, Neve, but I’ll give you the benefit of the doubt.’

  ‘No game,’ said Neve.

  ‘Yeah right. See you soon then.’

  ‘I’ll text.’

  Neve drummed her fingers on the gatepost as she watched Lee saunter back down Copperthorne Lane. He’d underestimated her. If she was going to turn this situation around, she needed to play him at his own game. What was that saying about keeping your friends close, but your enemies closer? She was about to put that into practice.

  Chapter 9

  Kit was surprised to find the house empty when he got back. He assumed Neve had stormed off home but her car wasn’t on the drive and only Willow greeted him. Not that he was expecting a fanfare from his wife, more like a blazing row, but it was something he could deal with. After all, he had only gone there to try to understand Neve more. All right, it was a bit of male pride too, he had done a bit of strutting and preening to remind Jake that Neve had a husband.

  Neve had once called it his silverback gorilla mentality when he had got pissed off with one of Neve’s male work colleagues whom she had gone for a drink with one lunch time, apparently to talk over some new assessment system they were implementing at the college where Neve was a learning support worker. Kit had hit the roof and then proceeded to meet Neve for lunch every day for the next week to warn the bloke off. They had moved to Ambleton shortly after that, Kit had made sure the commuting distance was unrealistic and he encouraged Neve to resign. Since then, he’d managed to find a reason for Neve not to apply for any other jobs she’d looked at. So much so, he was inclined to believe she’d given up on the idea – it wasn’t like they needed the money, as Kit liked to remind her, and being able to be at home for Poppy had a major influence on Neve’s decision not to go back to work.

  In all honestly, Kit hated the thought of Neve out working, especially when she didn’t have to. He liked providing for his family, it made him feel good about himself. He considered it his job. He knew it was probably an old-fashioned way of thinking these days, but all the time his father was in good health, he’d worked and his mother had stayed at home. Kit had valued this as a child and he wanted his own daughter to have the same security as he’d experienced. This was especially so, given Poppy’s extra needs. Besides all that, he knew being at home wasn’t any less demanding than going out to work. He didn’t want Neve to have to juggle home and work. He didn’t only want her at home, he needed her at home. Ultimately, it meant he could work all the hours he needed and Poppy would always have the care she needed.

  He sighed at his philosophy, it seemed to be backfiring now. Little did he know that Neve being at home was going to lead to art therapy classes and Jake. She hadn’t even thought about going to anything like that until someone mentioned it at a dinner party one night. Suddenly, Neve thought it was a great idea and, how did she put it – oh yeah – a great way to explore her issues.

  Kit paced the room, frustration rising like the incoming tide. He wished he could understand his wife more. He originally thought the art therapy classes might help her. If he was honest, he had hoped they would have some sort of epiphany and she’d come home, declaring the need to tell him everything. Instead, she was withdrawing more and, if he was honest, the mere mention of Jake irritated him no end. Jake seemed to know more about his wife than Kit did himself. Kit suspected that Neve had probably told Jake things that she hadn’t told him and he couldn’t deny it, it made him feel jealous, excluded and angry.

  He stood at the patio doors with his hands on his hips, looking out onto the garden. He had to know what the art therapy was all about. He couldn’t bear the thought of them having a secret he wasn’t party to.

  His gaze came to rest on the summer house at the bottom of the garden. The pale green cladded structure that Neve had taken great delight in fitting out with a table, chairs, and a sofa and decorated with bunting – it was almost like she was furnishing a real-life dollhouse. In the summer she liked to sit there to read a book or have a cup of tea. They had used it quite a bit the first summer, but the novelty seemed to have worn off now. The last couple of years, they’d hardly been in it. In fact, it was becoming more of a glorified storage room.

  He tapped his lip with his forefinger as he mulled over what Neve had put down there. Some boxes, if he remembered rightly. He had offered to take them down there for her, but she had been adamant that she could manage.

  ‘Hmmm … I wonder,’ Kit vocalised his thoughts. ‘What was in the boxes, Neve?’

  Going out into the utility room, Kit opened the key safe fixed onto the wall and ran his finger along the key fobs, inspecting the description. Garden gate. Garage. Back door, shed. He got to the final key – summer house.

  Standing in the middle of the summer house, Kit looked around. Neve was by nature a tidy and organised person, so he wasn’t surprised that nothing appeared to be out of place. He spied two boxes in the corner and was disappointed before he even opened them, as he could see through the clear plastic that one box contained what looked like gardening books and the other some pa
int and paint brushes from when she had decorated the inside of the summer house.

  He gave the box a small kick of annoyance. What did he expect to find down here? It was stupid of him to think Neve would leave anything of importance down here in a plastic box for everyone to see.

  He locked the door and made his way back down the garden, still chiding himself for being so fanciful. The squawk of a seagull made him look up to the sky.

  ‘Bloody birds,’ he muttered. Mrs Dalton across the road was always feeding them. The gulls were coming ever further inland these days in search of food and well-intentioned bird lovers were encouraging them, at the expense of the garden birds. He hated the way they perched on the roof of his car too, crapping all over it.

  He watched as another gull wheeled overhead before landing next to the first on his roof and then padding its way down the tiles and across the small Velux window of the attic room.

  Kit stopped in his tracks. The loft. Why hadn’t he thought of that before?

  With a renewed enthusiasm, Kit hurried inside and took the stairs two at a time. Taking the pole from the spare bedroom, he hooked open the loft hatch and pulled down the extendable loft ladder, before climbing up into the darkened space.

  They’d had about two-thirds boarded out when they’d moved in, mostly for Neve’s belongings that she’d brought from her old house. Things she insisted she didn’t want to part with, which she might need in the future. He hadn’t queried it much at the time. Kit wasn’t one for hoarding stuff; in his mind, it was either useful or not. If it wasn’t current, then declutter. The only box he had was one which he had saved for Poppy for when she was older. It contained some of her mother’s possessions, some photos, her wedding veil, her scan photo … Kit swallowed hard as the feeling of sadness and loss, which he usually had under control, made a bid to resurface. He’d always assumed that by now he would have opened the box and shared the contents with his daughter, but it had never seemed the right time. It was easier keeping the box locked away yet he acknowledged it was at odds with his usual approach to life. He liked to meet things head-on, to resolve problems and issues there and then, which was very different to how Neve dealt with things. She certainly wasn’t a believer in the adage of a problem shared was a problem halved.