Suddenly I froze, stunned.
And then his full weight was on me, the breath knocked out of my body, my back against the floor. He slapped me, once, round the face. Not a punch.
It wasn’t even that hard, really. I suppose it was the shock, more than anything.
‘It’s all about you, isn’t it. And what you want,’ he said. His voice sounded different, his accent slipping a little, somehow. ‘You little bitch.’
I touched my tongue to my lip, tasted metal. I couldn’t quite believe this was happening.
‘I’m going to leave now, Sophie, until you’ve calmed down.’ His voice sounded back to normal again, smooth and ironed out like a TV presenter’s. ‘And when I’m back, you’d better behave.’
He got up, leaving me on the floor. ‘Things are going to change around here. I don’t want any more of your whining, or complaining. I’ve had enough. Do you understand me?’
I wouldn’t look at him.
‘Do you understand me?’
‘Yes,’ I said, in a whisper.
I was quiet as he left, waiting to hear the bolts slide into place.
Slowly, I got up. I touched the side of my face.
Then I pressed my ear to the door, listening for his tread down the stairs to the next one.
My legs were shaking.
I’m not hurt, not really. I shouldn’t have pushed him.
But I knew. I knew this was different, a boundary breached. Even more than the other night, when he’d had his hands round my neck, his eyes unseeing.
This? This time he knew exactly what he was doing.
I waited a minute or two, till I thought he’d have gone. Something told me that he wouldn’t be back, for a while. Then I rushed to the window, pulling the chair underneath it, piling up the magazines so I could reach.
I’ll admit then, that was the moment. That I finally screamed. Almost just to see. If anyone would hear me, come and help. My throat still hurt from the night before. Still I felt silly, at first. Theatrical, like I was watching myself in a play. This couldn’t be me, in this situation.
But that didn’t last long.
And then I screamed, and screamed, and hammered on the window, my fists striking up against the glass. It didn’t shatter, not a bit. Eventually I stopped, when my throat was sore and hurting.
I listened. I couldn’t hear anything outside, not a murmur of a car engine or anything like that. Not even the birds through the thick glass.
And nobody came. Not then. Not later, when I tried again.
So I climbed down. I picked up Teddy and cuddled him close. I know it might sound silly, but that always makes me feel better. It’s almost like I’ve got a little friend in here. ‘It’s OK,’ I told him, although of course I was really telling myself. ‘It’s OK. He’ll come around. It’ll be fine. I’ll work this out.’
But underneath it all, one thought kept repeating, running through my mind like a drum beat that I couldn’t ignore.
I’ve made a very big mistake.
34
KATE
‘Would anyone like another cup of tea?’ Dad makes himself busy again, after the officers have gone. He always does this when he’s uncomfortable.
Charlotte shakes her head, folding her arms. ‘What else is going on, Kate? Why did you want us to come and see you, before all … before all this?’
She’s like Mum, she doesn’t go for the softly-softly approach. I don’t feel ready to do this, not now.
‘Look. I couldn’t say this, not in front of them,’ I start. ‘And I know I’ve been a bit – off the radar. But I don’t think this was just a burglary. There was someone in my garden the other night, too. And there’s something else doing on. I’ve found Sophie’s emails – someone knew she was running away, was planning to go with her, I think.’
There’s a puzzled beat. ‘Well, who?’ says Charlotte.
I shake my head. ‘I don’t know yet, but I’m trying to find out. But that’s not the only thing either. Wait, let me explain properly. From the beginning.’
And then I tell them: everything flooding out, like a dam’s broken in me. I start with what they already know: the phone call from Sophie; how I think she sounded scared, that she didn’t finish the call like she normally did; then I explain what Holly said about the pregnancy test, that it was really Sophie’s; Danny denying anything had happened, and his comment about Sophie’s dad picking her up.
‘And you know Mark never did pick-ups, so now I’m thinking: who could that have been?’
‘Uh-huh,’ says Charlotte, frowning in concentration.
Now I tell them the rest of it: the police finding Sophie’s diary; the things inside it seeming to confirm that Sophie was pregnant, ‘and then,’ I say – I can’t look at Dad – ‘she got it sorted’, though Danny her boyfriend, wasn’t happy. How it had me thinking we were really getting somewhere, that I was finding out why Sophie had left, painful as it was.
They’re both quiet, listening to me.
‘But then something really big happened: that’s when I got into her emails – an account we didn’t even know about, that she’d mentioned in her diary. And in it, there are these messages where she’s talking to someone about running away.
‘And then Nicholls – this policeman – I haven’t told you about him.’ I explain how he said someone’s making calls to the charity from the phone box near my house, how unhelpful I’m finding him. ‘He was at Sophie’s school, years ago, and he didn’t breathe a word to me. And I saw him at Nancy’s house—’
‘Wait, wait, who’s Nancy?’ says Charlotte, frowning.
‘Right, I haven’t even got to that; she used to live at Parklands, that big house over there’ – I gesture to the garden – ‘and she ran away, oh, more than twenty years ago now, but she looks just like Sophie. And their runaway notes, they’re so similar, I mean they’re not identical, but there’s a phrase that I found in both of them. Just let me go and get Sophie’s I’ll show you, then you’ll see …’ I’m heading off into hall, and stop, turning round. ‘Aren’t you coming? They’re in the living room, it will make much more sense.’
They’re not moving.
‘I’m sorry, I’m going too fast.’ Their faces are comically similar, eyes worried, mouths down-turned.
‘It’s OK,’ I say, more softly. I don’t mean to shock them. ‘I’m really worried too, of course, it’s a lot to take on – that finally, things are happening. But I really feel I could be getting somewhere.’ I’ve got to convince them. ‘She’s out there, you know, and she’s reaching out to me, to us, regardless of what she said about stopping contact. And I just feel once we’ve got some momentum, put more pressure on the police – oh, not the two who were just here. And definitely not Nicholls.’
A thought occurs to me now. ‘You know, where’s that number the police gave me. Because I did notice something was missing the other day. Sophie’s old blanket, you know, her blankie she called it, and I thought, who would want that old thing, other than … And her Teddy’s gone, too, isn’t it? But if it’s all tied together …’ I stop stone-cold, my eyes fixed on nothing. ‘But that was before. My God, does that mean he has been here before …’
‘Kate, stop.’ Charlotte actually puts out her hands, both palms up. ‘We need to talk to you. About all this.’ She’s right, I need to let them digest this, but— ‘You’re completely manic, can you hear yourself?’
‘What? No, I’m not, I just need to make you understand.’ The fear starts to rise in me again; if I can’t reach them, Sophie’s slipping away …
‘But, Kate, love,’ says Dad. ‘Please just think. Start at the beginning. If she’s really scared, if she’s in trouble – why ring the helpline? Why not just ring the police?’
‘Maybe she doesn’t want to, I don’t know why,’ I say, realising now that I can’t tell them what I really think: that that call was meant for me, somehow. ‘Or maybe she’s worried she’ll be in trouble …’