The moment we’re in the car I lock the doors, allowing myself a quick inhale of breath before it starts again. Road, mirrors, windows, road. My gaze flicks between them, staring at every parked car, every tree, every doorway we pass, searching for theoutline of your figure, a glimpse of broad shoulders and dark hair.
We stop at a pelican crossing, the green man beeping in time with my indicator as the children and parents flock towards the school. There is laughter and shouts of ‘hello’. They look so happy, so oblivious. They have no idea how fragile their lives are, how quickly everything can be stripped away.
The green man disappears. The last stragglers dart in front of our car. My hand reaches for the gear stick, my left leg already easing off the clutch, and that’s when it happens. I feel you before I see you. That strange sense of being watched that is now sickeningly familiar.
Not now, I plead to you in my head. Not with Beth and Archie in the car. Please no.
Then I spot you. You’re standing on the pavement, tucked a little way behind a tree on the other side of the road. Your phone is in your hand, and it’s the screen you’re staring at, not me. But then you look up and our eyes meet.I’m watching you, Jenna, that look is saying.
I freeze. Inside I’m screaming at myself to reach for my phone and take a photo of you, something the police can use to figure out who you are, but my muscles won’t react. All I can think about is keeping Beth and Archie safe.
For the longest second the only noise is the tick, tick, tick of the indicator. It sounds so slow compared to the beating of my heart. A horn blasts from behind me. I jump at the noise, a yelp escaping my throat. The traffic light has turned green.
‘What’s wrong, Mummy?’ Archie whispers from the back seat. I’ve scared him.
‘Nothing, darling,’ I reply, my voice too high. I spur myself into action, pulling the car over to the side of the road and parking askew on the kerb. I have to get a photo this time. My hands are slippery with sweat but I cut the engine, dig my phone out of my bag and open the camera.
‘Where is he?’ Beth asks, her voice sounding so young now, so full of the same fear that is surging through me, and I feel myself tearing in two, longing to be the mother she needs, the one who will always protect her, and knowing I can’t. How can I keep her safe when I don’t know who you are? Or what you want from me?
‘Get back,’ I whisper.He’s there. He’s right there.The car behind me honks again – a final beep of what-the-hell-are-you-doing-lady – before driving around me, blocking you from view for a moment. When the car is gone, so are you. Only the fear remains.
Chapter 2
Jenna
Every muscle, every joint, every single cell in my body vibrates with the urge to run. I can taste it in my mouth – a stale bitterness, like unbrushed teeth. We may be a more advanced species than most animals but our basic instincts remain the same – the surge of adrenaline, the fight or flight response.
All I want to do is take Archie and Beth and run away and never come back. And we are already running. Stuart keeps sending me links to houses in a village ten miles away. But he doesn’t get it. Ten miles isn’t enough to get away from you. We need ten thousand miles and an ocean between us. I could get a work permit for almost anywhere in the world. It wouldn’t just be a new house, it would be a different way of living. I haven’t told Stuart how I feel yet. He’s been right by my side through all the horrors you’ve thrown at me and I don’t know how to burden him with this new request. Once we’ve found a buyer for the house, then I’ll say something.
There are two viewings scheduled today. Stuart istaking a long lunch to show the buyers around the rooms that have been our home for the last decade. No For Sale sign, of course. I can’t have you finding out our plan.
Another car passes us. I drop my phone and glance across the road. The street is still empty and so I do the only thing I can do – I drive away, I carry on.
The moment we’re parked outside the school I tell Beth and Archie to sit tight and play on their tablets, then I step out of the car and call the police. I don’t want the kids to hear this. They are already so aware of you and what’s happening. Flashes of Archie’s tear-stained face and pleas for just one more bedtime story flood my thoughts. He never used to be scared of the dark. Beth will never admit to being scared too, but her sudden mood swings – angry one moment, desperate for cuddles the next – tell their own story.
The call is the usual back and forth. When, where, what, followed by a ‘We’ll send a patrol car’. I’ll get a call tomorrow or the day after from DS Church – the nasal-voiced detective who’s managing my case. She’ll tell me they’ve failed again.
‘Ready to go, kids?’ I ask, finishing the call and opening Archie’s passenger door.
As they grab their bags and clamber out I feel my skin itch again with the heat and the feeling of being watched that will follow me now for the rest of the day; the rest of my life, I think sometimes.
We’re swept towards the school by the tide of parents and children. I spot Christie walking just ahead of us with the train of kids she’s had over for breakfast this morning, along with her own daughter, Niamh. Beth and Archie skip ahead to join her and theirfriends and I hurry to catch up and try not to feel ditched.
When I think about leaving Westbury, Christie is always my first thought. She has taken care of Beth and Archie in her home since Beth started school five years ago, wiping their noses, their bottoms and their tears with a motherly love I’ll never find in childcare again. Plus, they adore her and she says yes every time we need her to.
‘Hey sweetheart,’ Christie says to Beth as she reaches her side.
Christie is in her mid-thirties with long brown hair she wears in a messy bun. She’s always smiling, and always wears baggy jeans and a loose t-shirt.
‘Christie, I got ten out of ten on my spelling test yesterday.’ Beth’s voice is bouncing with a joy I rarely hear.
‘That’s wonderful.’ Christie holds out her arm and Beth moves closer, the pair hugging as they walk. I feel a strange mix of happiness and jealousy seeing them together like this. I’m glad Beth loves Christie. It makes our childcare situation so much easier, and yet I can’t help but wish it was me Beth was hugging right now.
The bell rings as we step through the gates into the playground and four hundred children sprint to their class lines. I kiss Archie first and hold him close. ‘Have a good day, Archie. I’ll see you …’ I jump forward in my head, wading through the sludge of tiredness to remember my shift pattern this week. I finish at nine thirty tonight, then another twelve-hour shift tomorrow – seven till seven. ‘Tomorrow night, hopefully.’ I emphasize the final word and squeeze Archie a little tighter. He might only be six but Archieknows as well as anyone that I can’t simply walk away at the end of the day like Stuart can on his building site. A&E doesn’t work like that. ‘Or Friday, OK?’
‘Bye, Mummy,’ Archie says, pushing me away a little.
I bend down and lean close so his classmates don’t hear. ‘Remember not to hold it, baby. If you need to go to the bathroom, just ask. Mrs Smith or Miss Bagri will take you.’
