Where the Truth Lies Read online

  I put my hands to my cheeks, close my eyes and allow myself to visualise Bea’s face. If she were in danger, I would know. How could I not? She is my child. I spend most of every day with her and often the night too, when she climbs into our bed. Though no longer joined by a physical umbilical cord, there is an invisible rope that’s just as strong, just as vital, that binds us together. I have a sixth sense for her well-being. I know her likes and dislikes. I anticipate her needs. I tell myself again, if she were in danger, I would know. Whatever is going on here, I think it has more to do with Julian’s state of mind than it does with Amy’s.

  I open my eyes and search the pavement for signs of Amy and Bea but see only a couple of people walking purposefully in the direction of the main road.

  ‘What’s happening, Mum?’ Charlie comes down the steps behind me. He’s wearing shorts and flip-flops and a worried expression.

  ‘Dad’s . . . concerned,’ I say, almost baulking over the understatement. ‘They aren’t in the park and . . .’ I shrug. ‘Can you think of anywhere Amy might have taken Bea?’

  ‘I dunno.’ He shakes his head. ‘But she’ll be OK. Why’s Dad panicking like this?’

  I follow Charlie’s gaze to the end of the street. Julian has come out of the corner shop and is running towards us. And he’s running quickly. I don’t remember ever seeing him move with such urgency.

  ‘Your dad has been tense recently . . . what with the trial and everything.’ I hear my voice saying this and I believe it, because it’s the only explanation that makes sense. Before a trial begins, Julian is unusually preoccupied, his mind packed full of evidence and witness statements and arguments for the prosecution. This is the most high-profile case he has ever been involved in and it’s a career-maker. He’s bound to be more on edge than normal. I understand this. I was a lawyer myself; I know how pressured the job becomes. What’s more, twice in the last fifteen years Julian has been involved in trying to bring Georgiev to justice and both times the case fell apart because of problems with witnesses – one mysteriously disappeared, and another retracted his statement at the eleventh hour. This time, though, the main witness is being protected by the Witness Anonymity Act and this is the best shot that Julian and his team at the Crown Prosecution Service will ever have at convicting Georgiev.

  ‘The corner shop’s empty and the girl serving hasn’t seen them.’ He stops in front of us, his hand reaching into his back pocket. ‘I’m going to call the police.’

  ‘Dad! What the hell?’

  ‘Julian, shouldn’t we wait a bit?’ I hold on to his arm. ‘She’ll be fine.’

  The look he gives me makes my stomach shrivel.

  ‘I’ll call Amy and find out where they are,’ Charlie says.

  ‘Good idea,’ I nod.

  ‘Quickly, then,’ Julian says.

  ‘Yeah. OK.’ Charlie takes his mobile out of his pocket and presses two buttons. ‘Chill.’

  Seconds tick by.

  ‘She’s not answering?’ Julian asks.

  ‘Give her a chance.’

  More seconds and Julian loses patience. He takes his own phone from his pocket. I watch his fingers move over the buttons.

  ‘Look! Look!’ Charlie shakes his father’s arm. ‘They’re coming.’

  He’s right. Amy, Bea and Mary Percival, Bea’s nursery teacher, are walking along the pavement towards us. Bea is skipping between the two women, holding on to their hands. Relief surges through me like a wave, washing me clean of the confusion of the last few minutes. I watch Julian walk towards them and swing Bea up into his arms. He says something to Amy. She gives a careless shrug and he turns away. My eyes meet his as he climbs the stairs. He looks as if he’s been put through a wringer.

  Amy is tall for a girl, around five feet nine, and has a loose-hipped walk, accentuated by the way she dresses: floaty skirts with leggings underneath and short, tight tops that force her larger than average breasts to spill out over the top. When she’s within earshot, she shouts to me, ‘What’s with Julian?’

  ‘He was worried. We didn’t know where Bea was.’

  ‘She asked me to take her out. She saw her teacher through the window.’

  ‘It’s my fault,’ Miss Percival pipes up.

  ‘It’s OK.’ I half smile at them both. ‘But next time, Amy, if you could just tell me before you take her ou—’

  ‘I did.’ Her brow furrows with indignation. ‘I called up the stairs. You were there with another mother.’

  ‘I’m sorry – I didn’t hear you.’

  She gives another careless shrug. ‘I thought you had.’

  ‘Nothing happened, Mum,’ Charlie says, his arms protectively encircling Amy’s shoulders. Not that she needs it. She is, as ever, sure of her own ground. ‘Dad seriously over-reacted.’

  ‘Perhaps he did, Charlie,’ I say, keeping my tone even, ‘but nevertheless, next time’ – I look at Amy – ‘you need to make sure I’ve heard you before you go off with Bea.’

  ‘There doesn’t have to be a next time,’ Amy says, making wide eyes at me, her head shaking from side to side. ‘I was only trying to be helpful.’

  I stop short of apologising again. Instead I hold my tongue very firmly between my teeth. Amy spends most of the university holidays and at least one night a week during term-time living in our home and eating our food. Not that I grudge her this. Nor do I expect any great thanks for it. But her persistent I’m-right-and-you’re-wrong attitude grates on my nerves.

  However, whether we like it or not, she’s Charlie’s girlfriend and I can already see that the incident is dividing his loyalties. He gives me an imploring look over her shoulder while drawing her still closer into his chest. I manage a smile and he smiles back, then leads Amy up the stairs and they both return indoors. I’m left with Miss Percival.

  ‘All’s well that ends’ – she sees my face and hesitates – ‘well.’

  ‘Yes.’ I take a deep breath. ‘I suppose that’s true, but you can imagine . . . It was alarming to find that Bea had disappeared from the house.’

  ‘I completely understand,’ she says, taking my hand, then dropping it almost at once as if shocked by her own temerity. Not much more than five feet tall, her brown hair is cut short, and she has unremarkable grey-blue eyes. She comes across as someone who is more comfortable with children than adults, and is usually either shy or overly formal when talking to me. But with the children she relaxes into another part of herself and is clearly great fun. Bea absolutely adores her, and I’ve no doubt that when she saw her through the window, she wanted to run outside and say hello.

  ‘Bea just loves coming to nursery,’ I say. ‘She’s very fond of you.’

  ‘Well . . .’ She blushes. ‘She’s a lovely little girl. She brings so much enthusiasm to the class. That’s why we were at the end of the street – she wanted to show me where the men are building the new crossing. We’ve been talking about road safety at circle time.’

  ‘I see.’

  ‘I’m sorry to have caused you concern.’ She blushes again. ‘It’s the last thing I would want to do.’

  A taxi pulls up alongside us and the driver winds down his window. ‘Taxi for Julian Miller.’

  ‘He’s inside,’ I say. ‘I’ll tell him you’re here.’

  Miss Percival smiles her goodbye and I go indoors. Julian is on the phone in the kitchen.

  ‘The taxi’s here,’ I tell him.

  He holds up a hand. I tap my watch and give him a significant look. I know that he’s cutting it fine. He smiles distractedly and turns away from me, still talking into the phone, the fingers of his free hand drumming an impatient rhythm on the table. I can’t hear what he’s saying and I have no idea to whom he’s talking. His suitcase, already packed, is in his study and I go downstairs to fetch it.

  From here I see that Bea is in the garden with Wendy. They are looking down into the vegetable patch where spinach and rocket are growing like weeds.

  ‘I get my water can, Grandma,’ I
hear Bea say, and she runs off towards the shed. She’s still wearing her party dress but has swapped her sandals for her favourite Finding Nemo Wellington boots.

  As I watch her, my heart expands with two distinct feelings: the first, a sweet relief that she’s safe and happy; the second, a bitter rush of horror at the thought that she could have been missing for real and we could now be living every parent’s worst nightmare.

  The taxi beeps its horn from the front of the house and that sets me in motion again. I go upstairs with Julian’s suitcase and leave it in the hall. Outside, I find the driver on the pavement, leaning against the side of the car. ‘I’m sorry – could you wait just another minute or two? My husband’s on the phone.’

  He gives me a resigned look and lights up a cigarette as I return indoors.

  Julian is coming along the hallway from the kitchen and I turn to meet him. ‘Julian.’ Suddenly I feel overwhelmed and throw my arms around him. He hugs me to him and I breathe in his smell, feel the familiar weight and tilt of his body as it leans in to mine. ‘That was a bit scary, wasn’t it?’

  He nods. ‘Claire, I—’

  ‘I know neither of us particularly likes Amy,’ I whisper, ‘but—’

  ‘I over-reacted.’ He kisses me, makes it last, like he has all the time in the world. ‘I’m sorry.’

  ‘It’s OK.’ I rub his cheek. ‘I know the trial is looming and that makes for a stressful time.’

  He looks away, but not quickly enough and I see a dark shadow move across his face.

  My spine straightens and I take a step back. ‘What was that?’ I say.

  ‘What?’

  ‘That look on your face.’

  ‘What look?’ He throws out his arms and smiles at me, innocence personified, but I’m not convinced.

  ‘Julian?’ I move in close again. ‘Everything’s all right, isn’t it?’

  ‘Listen—’ His attention strays towards the front door as the driver sounds his horn again. ‘I’ll be back in no time.’ He lifts his suitcase off the floor. ‘I have my BlackBerry with me, but in case the signal is poor, I’ve left contact numbers on the pinboard.’ He runs his hands up and then down my back. ‘I love you, you know.’

  ‘I know.’ I hold his eyes for a moment, warmed by the sincerity in them, and then I let him go.

  I stand on the step and watch him climb into the taxi. He waves and I do too. I watch the taxi drive away. I stay there until it turns on to the main road and disappears from sight.

  2

  I’m still standing on the step when Jem walks across from the park and shouts, ‘Everything OK?’

  ‘Yes.’ I realise I’m holding my breath and I exhale with a loud sigh. ‘Just a bit of a mix-up with Amy and Bea.’

  ‘Oh . . . OK.’ She looks at me uncertainly. ‘Is Friday fine for me to finish off the room?’

  My mind is still with Julian and for a moment I’m not sure what she’s talking about.

  ‘For Lisa,’ she reminds me, taking Adam’s hand before he steps out into the road. ‘One last coat and we’re there.’

  ‘Of course. Sorry.’ I shake my head. ‘It’s been a long day.’ Jem is more than just a good friend. She runs her own painting and decorating business and has been helping me fix up a room for my sister, who’s going to move in with us. ‘Friday’s ideal. Lisa should be coming out of hospital on Saturday.’

  ‘How’s she doing?’

  ‘She’s finished her second round of chemotherapy. We’ll find out tomorrow whether it’s done any good.’

  ‘It’s a cruel disease. Robbed me of my mum and dad just six months apart.’ She gives my upper arm a squeeze. ‘Fingers crossed it’s good news. I know how close you two are.’

  ‘I’m hoping the cancer will all be gone.’ I lean against the railing and fold my arms. ‘You read about these things in the papers, don’t you? People who were given two months to live and five years later they’re still going strong.’

  ‘How’s Wendy coping?’

  ‘She’s like me. Hoping for good news.’

  ‘Look, Mum!’ Adam has been climbing the railing and has managed to trap his feet in the spaces at the top where the horizontal and vertical bars meet. He is hanging upside down, swinging one arm and holding his T-shirt away from his face with the other. ‘I’m a monkey.’

  We both laugh. Then Jem extracts him from the bars and turns him upright again. ‘Better get him home before he starts climbing the walls.’ She sets off along the pavement, shouting back, ‘See you Friday.’

  ‘See you then.’

  Back inside, Wendy is getting ready to leave. ‘Bea’s making a good job of the vegetable patch out there,’ she says, gathering up her bag and nodding her head towards the window.

  I glance out into the garden, where Bea is heaving the big rake backwards across a long strip of soil. She sees me watching her and waves up at me. I wave back and blow her a kiss. She pretends to try to catch it, reaching up so high that she falls backwards in a giggling heap.

  ‘What was happening with you and Julian earlier?’ Wendy says. ‘I caught the tail end of Amy saying something to Charlie about neither of you trusting her.’

  I explain about Amy taking Bea to the end of the street. ‘She said she called up the stairs to me and she probably did, but I didn’t hear her and—’ I lower my voice. ‘In all honesty, I haven’t warmed to her. I know Charlie is bowled over by her, but’ – I force some carrier bags into the bottom drawer, then push it shut with my foot – ‘she’s not the easiest girl to like.’

  ‘I’ve always found her a little off.’

  ‘With any luck Charlie will get a new girlfriend soon.’

  ‘I wouldn’t bank on that,’ Wendy says. And then, ‘She made quite a play for him, didn’t she?’

  ‘She did. He couldn’t believe that a third-year with as many friends as she has would be interested in him.’

  ‘She comes in a package that’s hard to resist.’

  ‘She has sex appeal and she isn’t afraid to use it?’ I say.

  Wendy gives me a knowing look.

  ‘You’re absolutely right.’ I sigh. ‘Step into the body of a nineteen-year-old boy and she’s practically irresistible.’ I give Wendy a kiss on the cheek. ‘Thank you for all your help today.’

  ‘Always welcome. You know that.’

  Next morning I wake up late. Without Julian in bed beside me, it took longer than usual for me to fall to sleep. I lay for hours mulling over the day. Bea’s party was a success, but Julian’s reaction afterwards cast a shadow over it. He must be under more stress than I thought. I wonder whether the evidence isn’t stacking up quite as he’d hoped. The defence may well have thrown a spanner in the works, but what with Bea’s party and everything that’s been going on with Lisa, he can’t have had a chance to tell me yet.

  Lisa. I swing my legs over the edge of the bed and silently pray that her last chemotherapy treatment hasn’t been for nothing. She is such an intrinsic part of my life, of the whole family’s lives, and to have her well again would be the best news we could have.

  I spend a few minutes in the bathroom, then pull on some underwear and a grey velour tracksuit, and go downstairs. It’s already eight o’clock: breakfast time. I walk along the hallway and push open the kitchen door. Charlie is sitting on a high stool at the kitchen island with Bea on his knee. When she sees me, she slides off him and runs to me. She is wearing a pink corduroy pinafore with embroidered flowers round the hem, a white T-shirt, three strings of coloured beads and her Finding Nemo Wellingtons.

  I lift her up to hug her. Her blonde hair is soft and wispy and smells of shampoo. ‘Have you had a bath this morning?’

  ‘She had chewing gum stuck in her hair,’ Charlie says through a mouthful of cereal.

  ‘What were you doing with chewing gum?’ I say, tickling her middle so that she giggles. ‘Were you going through Charlie’s bags again?’

  ‘I looked for his washing.’ She takes a big breath. ‘Mummy, you say – y
ou always say – “Charlie!”’ She cups her hands around her mouth and shouts, ‘“Bring me your washing!”’ She drops her hands and pulls on the beads. ‘That’s what you do.’

  ‘So you were helping?’ I say.

  She nods. ‘Because Charlie always comes home with washing. They don’t have wash machines at the ’versity.’

  ‘Or if they do, I haven’t found them yet,’ Charlie says, pretending to look sheepish.

  Normally in student accommodation, Charlie’s living at home during exam week. He is in his first year at the University of Sussex, studying ecology and conservation. As the university is based in Brighton, he often pops home between lectures and so, in some ways, it feels as if he hasn’t really left. Perhaps I should have encouraged him to go further afield, but the course was perfect for him and I’m the first to admit that giving my children up is not something I’m good at. I want them to do well. I want them to be happy, to find partners and have children of their own, but I don’t want them so far away that I don’t see much of them. Sending Jack to boarding school was difficult enough, but then, as he had been offered a sports scholarship, I could hardly stand in his way. What’s more, Julian went to boarding school himself and felt that the set-up would only improve Jack’s grades and self-discipline. And for two years it did. Only recently has Jack’s behaviour started to slide.

  ‘What time did you get up, then, young lady?’ I say to Bea.

  ‘About half past six,’ Charlie says.

  ‘I’m sorry, love.’ Bea’s stool is already taken – her soft toy Bertie is perched on it – so I sit her down on the counter next to Charlie and kiss his cheek. ‘You should have woken me.’