The Well (17 page)

“Sarah, I –”

“Will, this situation is so crap that I’m having difficulty keeping it together with the man that I love. I don’t want to have to cope with having the man that I
fucking hate
around here.” Sarah drew a deep breath, silently, hoping she’d sounded stronger than she felt. “
Please
,” she said, finally.

Will had reluctantly agreed and Sarah was relieved when the call was over.

Despite the adrenalin, anxiety and endless coffee, Sarah and Jim had both fallen asleep on the sofa at some time around five – Sarah huddled under Jim’s arm. Sarah drifted away first, and Jim waited until he was sure she was asleep before closing his eyes. He understood that Sarah was frustrated with him but he didn’t know how to be anything other than what he was – besides, someone needed to keep calm. Inside, he was as annoyed, frightened and upset as Sarah, but he knew that it wouldn’t help if they both lost it.

Just before seven, they were awoken by the doorbell. Sarah, instantly awake, pushed Jim to one side and rushed to the door. It was another policeman and, although he hadn’t been at the house the night before, he seemed familiar.

“Hello Mrs Richards,” he said, extending his hand with greater informality than she would have expected of a police officer. “I’m Ed Davis.” Sarah obviously looked puzzled, because he then offered, “Hannah’s Dad?”

Of course
, thought Sarah. “I’m sorry,” she said, “I didn’t recognise you in uniform.” She hesitated. “Is there some news?”

Ed shook his head. “I’m sorry, no, I’m just on my way in and wanted to ask you a few more questions. I’m sorry for calling so early.”

Sarah felt a veil of despondency descend and, with some effort, pushed it to one side. She invited Ed in. Jim was already automatically making more coffee. Although her mouth tasted foul from too many cups the night before, she accepted another, making a mental note to shower and clean her teeth as soon as she could.
I must look like crap,
she thought, not really caring.

Once they were seated, Ed explained that he’d spoken to Hannah the previous night. He then asked carefully, “Do you think that there might be a physical relationship between Becca and Matt?” There was a stunned silence.

Sarah’s eyes widened, as much with anger as astonishment. “What?” She’d started to rise from her seat, but Jim placed his hand on hers. “What?” she repeated, slightly more calmly. “Is that what Hannah said?”

Ed nodded. “I have to stress that she doesn’t know for sure. Becca hasn’t confided in her. It’s just – well, I’d say a guess, but Hannah knows Becca pretty well.”

“Better than me?” The words came out cold, almost through gritted teeth. At her side, Jim began to speak. “Sarah –” Sarah silenced him with a glare.

Ed kept quiet while he let the information sink in. If there’s one thing he’d learned from situations like this it’s that the parents always have to blame someone – sometimes themselves, sometimes the children and sometimes other people.

Jim started to speak but thought better of it. Instead, he got up, went upstairs and returned with the bag of condoms, passing them to Sarah. “I found these in Matt’s wardrobe,” he said.

Sarah opened the bag. Coloured, ribbed and flavoured.
Just bloody great,
she thought. “She’s just a kid,” said Sarah. “And
this
doesn’t
prove
anything. It’s not like they were in
her
room.” Jim put his arm around her; she was shaking.

“Like you said,” said Jim, “this doesn’t prove anything. But we have to accept that it might – that they might…” Jim ran out of words.

“She’s only fourteen, for Christ’s sake,” she said, softly.

“I know,” said Jim.

“No you don’t know!” Sarah’s voice rose. “Matt’s sixteen. She’s just a baby.” She threw the bag of condoms against the wall. The bag hit the floor and the boxes spilled out. One of the boxes opened, scattering wrapped condoms.

Sarah brushed Jim away and stood up. She walked to the window, arms wrapped around herself, trying to regain some calm. Outside, in contrast to the previous week’s weather, the morning was overcast and cloudy.

Ed knew when it was time to interject. He’d found out the first thing he wanted to know: neither of the parents knew that their kids were having sex. “Mrs Richards,” he said, evenly. “I do honestly know how you feel. Hannah’s the same age. But right now, we have to put those feelings to one side and focus on finding the children.”

There was a long silence. Sarah nodded. She sniffed and brushed away a tear. Inside, she was mad as hell. Sarah’s first time had been awkward, brief and unloving, in the woods close to the school, when she was fifteen. She’d wanted better for Becca.
And Matt
– she was furious with him.
I could kill him
, she thought.
And Jim won’t do anything. That’s why Matt’s like he is.
When it boils down to it
, she thought,
men are all the same.
She sat down next to Jim, but not so close that they were touching. Jim put his hand lightly on her knee.
He always knows the right thing to do,
she thought, but found it even more annoying.

Jim felt Sarah’s leg stiffen against his touch. He didn’t know what to say. Somehow, not only was Matt at fault, he felt that he was too. He was tempted to withdraw his hand, but kept it in place and squeezed her leg gently. Sarah didn’t respond.

“Can I talk to Hannah?” asked Sarah.

“It would be best if you didn’t,” said Ed. “She’s pretty embarrassed about this and thinks she’s let Becca down by telling me. And, although you know her, it’s best if you let us do our job.”

Sarah nodded.

“This may change how we approach things,” said Ed. “Today, we’re starting to search locally, following their possible routes home from school. But we’re now going to look at CCTV on national rail, bus and coach networks too. Given that they’re both missing, it’s possible that they’ve run away rather than having been taken.”

Ed could see that both Sarah and Jim accepted what he was saying, so he pressed home his point. “If we were to ignore a relationship between Becca and Matt as a possibility, we could be searching in the wrong place.” Both Sarah and Jim nodded, glancing at each other. “We have to work together. Any piece of information, no matter how unlikely, or unpleasant, may be important.”

“We understand,” said Sarah.

Ed stood up. “Thanks for your time. And the coffee. Sorry to have upset you, Mrs Richards.”

Sarah flushed. “No, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have got angry. And please – call me Sarah.”

Ed shook her hand. “Oh, there is one more question,” he asked, as casually as he could. “Did either Matt or Becca mention anything about someone following them or watching them?”

“Why?” said Sarah. “Is that something Hannah said?”

Ed didn’t like lying to Sarah and Jim, but when a child goes missing, everyone – including the parents – are suspects. Information is something that is given out at a speed that benefits the investigation. He sidestepped the question and hoped that neither Jim nor Sarah noticed. “We have to consider everything,” he said. “Something that one of them may have mentioned in passing could be important now.”

Sarah shrugged. “Nothing springs to mind.” She looked at Jim. He shook his head. “Nope,” he said.

“Well, if you think of anything, let us know. Your liaison officer will be assigned today. He or she will probably ask you again. Have a think. And they’ll be wanting recent photos of Becca and Matt. Have you got some?”

“We have loads of Becca,” said Sarah. “Good ones – she’s on the school swimming team, so the Bankside Reporter takes pictures. We’ve got some of Matt, too.” She looked at Jim for confirmation. He nodded. “Not as recent,” he said, “but recent enough.”

“That’s good,” said Ed. “If you can fish them out, it will save time later.”

Ed said his goodbyes and left. As she closed the door, Sarah felt the silence of the house surround her, oppressive and close. She stood with her back to the door and let the tears flow down her face. Jim came to her, carefully, and put his arms around her. She let him embrace her, but didn’t respond. She hated herself for that – she knew that Jim hadn’t done anything, but couldn’t help herself.

After a moment, she wiped her face and brushed past Jim. “I’m going for a shower,” she said.

3

Abby lay in bed, watching Helen dress; it was something she never tired of. Beside her, Sammy slept soundly.

Helen caught her gaze and smiled; Abby smiled back.

“I like it when you’re here,” said Abby.

“I stay half the week,” said Helen.

“You should be here the other half, too. Why don’t you move in?”

It was asked as a casual question and was something they’d discussed before. There were several reasons why the two women lived apart, but in the end, Helen reflected, they were all just excuses. The truth was that both women, much as they loved each other, also prized their independence. But, after the last couple of days, things felt different to Helen. Their relationship hadn’t previously suffered any kind of crisis and had always felt indestructible. Right now, although she wasn’t showing it, Helen was worried: worried about Sammy, about Abby and about the days to come. But most of all she was worried about what would happen
after
the days to come; about what would be left of them and their relationship.

“OK,” said Helen, “why not?”

The answer was clearly unexpected to Abby. “What? You mean it?”

“Abigail Henshall, I do believe I’ve managed to surprise you. Yes, of course I mean it.” She leaned over and gave Abby a long kiss.

“Oh Helen, that’s fantastic. What changed your mind?”

Helen shrugged. “What changed yours? You’re the one who asked.”

“The time felt right. That seems daft, doesn’t it? Once I realised that I didn’t want to go through this without you, I realised that I didn’t want to go through
anything
without you.”

Helen nodded. “Me too.” Although she didn’t say so, she was more than uncomfortable with the morality of the situation and felt that now wasn’t the time to be living apart.

She gently ruffled Abby’s hair and stood up. She reached for her skirt and put it on. “You keeping Sammy off school today?”

Abby nodded. “Probably all week, maybe a bit more. I need to be with her – and it wouldn’t be great if someone saw her neck, would it? I’ll call the school and say she’s sick: a cold or something.”

Helen pulled her jumper over her head. “I’ll call you later.” Helen didn’t want to go into work, but it made sense – it’s where she’d find out the most about the missing girl.
She might even be someone I teach
, thought Helen. In the dark, she’d only been able to tell that it was a teenage girl – she hadn’t recognised her voice.

“Helen?”

“Yep?”

“Can I tell Sammy you’re moving in? She’ll be really pleased.”

“Of course you can,” replied Helen with a knowing smile, “if she doesn’t know already.”

Sammy had always liked Helen, right from the first time she’d seen her.

4

“Hi, Helen!”

It was the very first time that Helen Goodwin had stepped inside Abby’s small shop – which was a busy, cluttered place, with shelves full of rocks, crystals, books, candles and a seemingly random collection of homeopathic remedies. The air smelled faintly of incense. Behind the counter, a woman with long blonde hair looked up and smiled, but it wasn’t she who had spoken. At the side of the counter, playing on the floor with a doll, was a young child. She was three, perhaps four. The child was smiling directly at her.

“Well, hi yourself,” said Helen. “What’s your name?”

“I’m Sammy,” proclaimed the little girl, as if Helen should have known.
Cute kid,
thought Helen, puzzled.

“She’s a darling,” said Helen to the blonde woman.

“Thanks.”

“How old is she?”

Sammy interrupted. “I’m a big three,” she said, proudly. “Do you like my dolly? I just got her.”

“I do, I do. What’s her name?”

“I don’t know yet, ’cause she’s new. But I think she’s special. Like a princess. Or a lady.”

Helen smiled warmly. “You could be right.”

“Can I help you?” asked the blonde woman.

“Yes, I hope so. I – I’m wondering how your daughter knew my name.”

The blonde woman shrugged, smiling. “I guess she must have seen you around. She’s got a great memory and she’s nosy as hell.”

Helen nodded. “I guess. I’ve only just moved into town. I’ve just got a job as a supply teacher at the school. Big kids, though.” Helen realised that she was rambling. “I’m looking for local history books. My name’s Helen, by the way.”

“I know,” said the woman, nodding toward Sammy. She held out her hand. “Welcome to town. I’m Abby. We’ve got some books – pretty much all you can see is what we have. Trying to find out more about your new home?”

Helen flicked through the books. “Partly. I’m a bit of a local history nerd, I’m afraid. This place is new to me, so I thought I’d find out what I could, even if I’m only here for a few months.”

“Not staying?”

“Don’t know yet. It’s a six-month contract. I’ll see how it goes.” Helen picked out three of the books. “I’ll take these.”

Abby bagged the books, then took Helen’s credit card and rang up the payment. “Well,” she said, handing Helen the books, “I hope you like it here.”

Helen smiled. “Me too. Thanks very much. Bye.” She turned to Sammy. “Bye Sammy.”

“Bye Helen.” Helen found Sammy’s familiarity both slightly unnerving and strangely endearing. She’d not been sure about Bankside when she arrived, but there was something welcoming about this little shop.

As Helen left the shop, Abby noticed that she looked back – and their eyes met. Helen’s eyes were a deep, warm dark brown that seemed to naturally express joy. Abby found it impossible not to smile and Helen smiled back.

They met again just over a week later, in The Tea Tree, one of Bankside’s small cafés. Helen was reading one of the books she’d bought, sipping tea. Sammy saw her first, and went straight to her, clambering onto the seat beside her without asking. “Hi Helen,” she said. Helen smiled. “Well hello –” Helen briefly searched her memory. “Sammy, isn’t it?” Sammy nodded.