‘So have I! So has Beth!’
‘Look, me and her dad are splitting up.’
That stopped me in my tracks.
Ursula sighed. Chloe stared at the floor, fingers clutching the bag strap. ‘I know it’s nothing compared to what you’re going through, but between that and what’s happened to Beth… It’s a lot for someone to deal with at Chloe’s age. You have to understand: I must protect my daughter.’
‘I… Yes, of course, I understand that.’
That’s what I’d failed to do: protect my daughter. That was the thought that brought tears to my eyes, calling quick apologies over my shoulder as I fled the house.
But at least there was a name now – Aleksy Jachowski, the seventeen-year-old son of Polish immigrants. Him, and the sinister figure who had been watching me on the marsh.
Nineteen
BETH
FRIDAY 22 JANUARY
Beth shivered as she quickly got changed in the freezing cricket pavilion. Her fingers were numb as she backcombed her hair. Stuffing her rucksack out of sight behind a tangle of practice nets, she hesitated, then pulled her coat back on. It ruined the look of the fashionable little outfit she wore, but she was too sensible to face the cold without it.
Besides, she wouldn’t be wearing her coat for too long, hopefully. As soon as she got where she was going, she’d slip out of it.
The goosebumps she got at that moment had nothing to do with the temperature and everything to do with excitement. This was it: the night her relationship changed forever. She couldn’t wait to take things to the next level. When her friends at school found out, they’d be so totally green.
‘Ready?’ whispered a voice in the semi-darkness.
‘I was born ready,’ Beth said, sounding far more confident than her flipping stomach would let her feel.
Twenty
The front door had barely closed before Jacob threw himself at me.
‘Where have you been?’ he gasped, squeezing me in a bear hug until every sinew in his body pressed against me. ‘I’ve been worried sick. You didn’t take your mobile with you.’
‘God, I’m so sorry. I needed some fresh air.’
‘Anything could have happened to you,’ he said, bursting into tears.
Good job he didn’t know I’d been on the marsh, or he’d have been even more worried. I decided to keep shtum about everything – including my visit to Chloe Clarke.
‘Hey, it’s okay. I’m okay,’ I replied gently. ‘But… now we have to go to the police station and tell them the truth about you.’
He ran his hand over the blond stubble of his head fretfully. His face had aged over the past week, new lines appearing around his tragic blue eyes. We had both been pushed beyond endurance. He heaved a sigh.
‘Look, it’s not worth it, Mel. It’s got nothing to do with what happened, and I’ll just get into trouble.’
‘It’s “not worth it”? Telling the truth about the night our daughter was attacked “isn’t worth it”?’
‘Don’t be like that.’
‘Like what?’ My words cracked like a whip. ‘We’ve already discussed this. When this comes out – and it will – people are going to suspect you of lying about everything. They’ll think you had something to do with Beth’s attack, unless you come clean now.’
‘But…’
‘It’s always the family people suspect first.’
‘You might be right. Let me think—’
‘You’re not thinking, Jacob; you’re doing it. If you don’t, I will. You’ve got the time it takes me to pack Beth’s things for hospital to agree with me.’
I couldn’t believe your dad was being such a coward, Beth. He and I had always tried to set you a good example about doing the right thing. What a joke.
In a fury, I stomped up the stairs to your room. And stopped. All emotion drained from me, leaving only terror behind. Who was I to talk of your father’s cowardice when I was so scared of your bedroom, Beth?
Do you want to know a secret? It took every single ounce of courage, squeezed up tight into a ball, to turn the doorknob and step into your room, Beth. I tiptoed across the dirty clothes strewn on the floor, feeling guilty for picking them up and putting them into your wash basket as I went. I was another person invading your privacy, coming into your room without asking. At least I left untouched the clothes across that uncomfortable pink chair. I stood in the middle of your room, taking in the posters of wildlife and pop stars. Breathed in your perfume, Daisy, that hung in the air – another Christmas present you had begged me for. Guilt punched me.
I should have kept you safe. I had failed you.
Hunched over in pain, I snatched up random bits and bobs you might like with you in hospital. Pulling down a favourite poster to take, and swearing at the rip I made in your wallpaper. Ran out, crying, slamming the door behind me.
Overnight bag packed, I forced myself upright, wiped away the tears and came down the stairs.
‘We’ll go straight to Leeds,’ I said. Jacob’s face relaxed, relief spreading over it. ‘From the police station,’ I added firmly.
It was time for the truth finally to come out.
Twenty-One
Fifteen minutes or so later we parked at Wapentake police station. The ugly five-storey creation of concrete slabs had been pebble-dashed in an attempt to soften the harsh rectangle, which also incorporated the magistrates’ court. Stairs outside led up to the reception on the first floor, where Jacob asked to speak to DS Devonport.
As soon as he made his confession, the pair of us were separated. The small room they put me in was windowless, cell-like and painted a pale grey. I sat on an orange plastic chair, instantly feeling guilty for no reason. I would never make a master criminal, I decided.
‘Mrs Oak, can you talk us through events on the night of your daughter’s disappearance?’ asked Detective Constable Alan Musgrove.
So I told him again about you asking to stay at Chloe’s house. About me not bothering to check whether or not this was true because it happened so often. Lately I’d simply got out of the habit – you two lived in each other’s pockets, and besides, you and Chloe were growing up and I’d thought you could both be trusted. That’s what you’d been relying on, wasn’t it, Beth? Habit and trust making me lazy. You had taken advantage of that to lie and manipulate me. Why?
What time we set off. Our conversation about superheroes inspired by wildlife. You skipping away from me. Once again, I went over those painful last moments of seeing you truly alive and vital. I hadn’t imagined for a second that the next time I saw you, my daughter, you’d be lying lifeless in a hospital bed.
They quizzed me about your clothes, of course. About whether or not you were carrying a bag.
‘For the hundredth time, yes, she was. I’d thought it contained her overnight things to stay with Chloe. In fact, it must have been her make-up and clothes for some kind of night out. Have you found Beth’s rucksack yet? Or her coat?’