Midday of Tuesday, 2 January
First Quarter
ABBIE JUMPS DOWN FROM the driver’s seat and runs around to help Fran, who already has the back open and is dragging black bin liners onto the front path. Sally opens the cottage door to let them in, and they burst into the kitchen, breathless and giggling. The commando raid has obviously scored a victory.
‘Where’s Claire? Is she still downstairs?’ Fran turns around and is already out the door on her way to collect another bag and a cardboard box.
‘So did the police come?’ asks Abbie.
‘Yes, just as we expected,’ says Sally. ‘In fact they came shortly after you left. They’re probably looking for you now. Claire’s still downstairs. We would have taken her back upstairs, but she insisted on waiting until you got back. She was worried that you might have run into you-know-who. She might as well see this lot before she goes back to bed.’
‘Right. Let’s get this sorted, then you can fill us in on your morning.’
The bags and bundles are shifted through to the sitting room where Claire, guarded by Naomi, is leaning back in an armchair, Cat curled up on her lap.
‘There,’ Abbie is beaming, ‘all your worldly goods. We emptied your wardrobe, drawers and shoe cupboards. Found most of the records and books you asked for and a few more besides. They looked more your taste than Ayden’s.’
‘And most important, there’s this.’ Fran flourishes Claire’s handbag. ‘Look inside and see what else we recovered.’
Claire opens the bag and pulls out a handful of documents. ‘Oh, thank heavens. Birth certificate, passport, medical cards, National Insurance papers. I’m a legal citizen again. I’m not sure I need the marriage certificate.’
‘No, but your divorce lawyer will.’
‘And, what’s more, your credit card and cash card were still in your purse, so we visited Newmarket and Cambridge, did a tour of the cash dispensers. Look at this.’ Abbie up-ends a paper bag and wads of banknotes tumble and flutter into Claire’s lap, sending Cat flying for safety. ‘I think you’ll find there’s over four thousand pounds there. They stopped paying out when we reached the daily limit.’
‘We didn’t have much more than that, anyway. The business account is separate.’ Claire is on the brink of laughter. She runs her hands through the money. ‘I think you’ve nearly cleaned him out. He’ll be furious.’ The laughter spills over and her eyes are bright with tears.
It’s Fran who knows about these things. ‘You have to act quickly, before they have time to realize that the woman isn’t coming back. Once that sinks in, they start making life as difficult as possible—cancel credit cards, put a block on shared bank accounts, change the locks. If they’re really vindictive, they’ll cut up her clothes or set fire to her belongings. I’ve helped re-house plenty of women, moved them to the other end of the country when necessary. Clothes and personal stuff can be replaced, but if you have any hope of starting a new life, it’s the paperwork you need. Apply for a job, rent a flat—you’ll get nowhere without some sort of identity. And for that you need your own bank account and credit cards, and you try getting those without a birth certificate or a passport.’
They’d planned it all late last night while they listened in to each news broadcast, waiting for the story to unfold.
By this morning it will have been over twenty-four hours since Claire fled her home early on New Year’s Day. Although Ayden has guessed she is with Naomi and has said Naomi could keep her, part of him will still expect Claire to come crawling back as she’s always done. He will be planning to take his revenge, one way or another. They have had to act immediately, while he is still terrified by the events of New Year’s morning and while he is still so full of anger that he can’t think clearly; act, before he fully realizes that his wife has really gone and that whoever is hiding her will also know what happened to Ruth.
Today, most of the country will be going back to work, picking up the threads of a new year. Town will be busy with the January sales, and if they are lucky Ayden might be at his computer store. So Sally had rung, asking about some software, hoping he wouldn’t recognize her voice. Yes, he will be open all day. If she cares to call in later…That told them that the coast would be clear. It also told them he is attempting to behave as normal. He must know that the police will be watching the villagers on the lookout for any change in routine.
Entering the house was no problem. Claire had told them the alarm code and where to find the spare door key. The street was quiet, most of the residents being out during the daytime. And what if they were seen? Only Mrs Hunter-Gordon and the vicar’s wife collecting for the next jumble sale.
‘So, you’re a free woman.’ Naomi laughs with her.
Claire wipes her eyes with a tissue. ‘It can’t be that easy, can it?’ And then she catches her breath. ‘No, it wasn’t that easy. Think what it cost…Ruth…It cost—’
‘Right. That’s enough of that.’ Fran seizes one of the bags. ‘Let’s get this lot upstairs. Hope you’ve got room for it all, Sally?’
‘And I think it’s time we got you back to bed.’ Abbie slips off her coat in preparation for work. ‘That dressing ought to be changed again. And then you can get some sleep. I expect you’re exhausted.’
It had been a long morning for Sally, Naomi and Claire. They had guessed that the police would be back first thing, so, while Abbie and Fran went off to reclaim Claire’s worldly goods, they had set about staging a charade. Claire had to be helped out of bed, then she had insisted on taking a shower and said she felt better for it. Naomi was horrified at the purple and blue stains that patched most of her body. They helped her dress in Sally’s clothes: trousers and a high-necked, loose-fitting sweater, nothing showing. Claire fixed her own hair and borrowed some make-up. By the time they had sat her in an armchair with a coat thrown over the back and a handbag by her feet, she looked like any casual visitor.
‘If they ask, say you came with Naomi.’
‘Oh hell, the car,’ Naomi gasped. ‘They’re trained to spot things like that. We’ve got to make it look like we’ve just arrived.’ She ran through the trees and around the stable. Thankfully, the engine started first go and she left it running to warm the inside and the engine while she cleared ice from the windows, then drove it around to Wicker Lane and positioned it outside Stonewater Cottage.
Sally laughed when she answered Naomi’s knock. ‘Anyone would think you’ve done this sort of thing before.’
Naomi had hardly sat down with Claire, her own coat and bag tossed on a chair, woollen scarf draped around her neck, when there was a knock at the door.
There were two of them, Detective Inspector Rankin and Detective Sergeant Thorp. Sally showed them into the sitting room, and explained that Naomi and Claire were visiting and who they were.
Rankin was a big, broad-shouldered man, whose presence seemed to fill the low-ceilinged room. Sally, desperate to appear to be acting naturally, found it difficult not to stare at him. It was his hair that caught her attention: sweeping back from his forehead, it was thick and dark except for a broad band of white above his left eye. ‘Ah yes, I see the officer spoke with you yesterday, Miss Walker. And Mrs Drayton? You and your husband are on our list as being at the disco. Also friends of Ruth Clifton, I understand?’
‘Well, I am—was. My husband hardly knew her.’
‘I see. Well, as you’re here perhaps you won’t mind answering a few questions.’ He moved slowly and spoke purposefully.
It was much the same as before, only this time the questions came faster and harder, mostly from the sergeant, while Inspector Rankin make meticulous notes. How long have you known her? What was her relationship with her husband like? When was the last time you saw her? What did she say? What sort of mood was she in? They asked the same things over and over, rephrasing the questions to trip them up. Sally and Naomi kept to the same story, told the exact truth right up until they all reached home and went to bed.
‘And you didn’t see or hear from her again after you left her at the shop?’ The inspector turned from one to the other, looking them both directly in the eyes. Naomi answered just as directly, not missing a beat. Sally shook her head.
‘And what about you, Mrs Drayton? We understand both you and your husband left early New Year’s Eve. Is that right?’
God, they don’t miss a thing, thought Sally.
‘Yes, that’s right. Bit embarrassing really.’ Claire looked away, smiling sweetly. ‘We had a sort of a row. Nothing important. He’d had a little too much to drink, that’s all.’
‘And did you both go straight home?’
‘Yes. We’d made it up by the time we got there.’
‘And then what did you do?’
‘What did we do? It was New Year’s Eve, Inspector. We were celebrating. What do you think we did?’
They were both too hardened to be embarrassed by Claire’s mischievous grin, but at least it put a stop to that line of questioning.
‘And none of you have any idea what might have happened?’ asked Rankin. ‘Why Mrs Clifton went out again?’
The questions went on and on, going over the same ground again and again.
Sally looked at Claire, holding Cat tightly on her lap, as if drawing energy from her small body. She thought of that morning when she had sat in the rocking chair, clinging to the grey fur, wet with her own tears, and how she had felt the rhythmic purring as if the whole room shuddered with it. Something about car wheels. And someone was singing…
‘We’ll need to talk to your husband, Mrs Drayton. Is he at home?’
‘No, he went back to work this morning.’
The inspector consulted his notes. ‘Computer Net in Newmarket. I believe he’s the owner?’
‘That’s right. He’ll probably be there all day.’
‘Right. We’ll send someone out.’
‘Oh, Inspector. Could I ask you…Well, it’s just that I’m supposed to be at work, too; the charity shop in the village. Whoever interviews him, could they not mention that you’ve seen me here? He says I spend all my time gossiping, and well…’
‘I understand.’ He actually smiled, well almost. ‘Don’t worry. Our officers are there to collect information, not pass it around. Right, ladies, that will be all. At least for now. You may be required to come in to the station and make a formal statement. We’ll be in touch. Meanwhile, if you think of anything…’
The house is quiet again. Claire is sleeping. The events of the morning have taken a lot out of her, although she does seems to be moving a little more easily and there is some colour in her face. Abbie has remembered that she is supposed to be giving a riding lesson after lunch and hopes that Daniel had thought to cancel it. She left in a hurry, expecting to find the police waiting on her doorstep. Fran left soon after, knowing they would be hunting her down also. Edward would have told them she was at the charity shop, so she’d need to think of a reason for not being there.
Sally is standing at her bedroom window, cradling Cat in her arms. Cat doesn’t often allow herself to be treated as a pet, but this afternoon she seems tired and gives in easily. They watch Naomi cross the lawn to the pool. The garden is still, except for a few birds darting among the trees and raking the earth for grubs and insects. So far it has been a cold winter and there’s promise of worse to come. The wildlife must be desperate for food, and for their sakes Sally is thankful that Cat is indoors and not out hunting.
There’s movement at the corner of the field. The gate opens and Abbie leads a horse through, stopping to close the latch behind her before she mounts. It’s the big toffee-coloured mare, Abbie’s own Lottie. They move around the edge of the field, gently at first, Lottie lifting her feet and placing them carefully as if sensing a fragility in her rider. Then Abbie straightens her back and shifts in the saddle and Lottie begins to trot, working up to a canter. Sally remembers something Abbie said about this being the time when she’s on her own. There’s only her and the horse and they move as one. It takes that union of woman and animal for her to be fully aware of herself.
‘And what about you, Cat?’ Sally rubs her cheek on Cat’s head. ‘Do you know who I am? Because I’m damned if I do.’
But if Cat knows, she’s not telling. She closes her eyes and turns her head to one side, the way cats do. Sally thinks it’s her way of saying: I’m comfortable with you and that’s all that matters.
This is the first moment she’s had to catch her thoughts since New Year’s Eve. She’s glad Claire came to her. She was really trying to reach the pool, Sally knows that, but even so she wants to take care of her, protect her. She’s beginning to feel some sort of personal responsibility for the group. It’s she who must keep them safe. She’s sure she knows these women, has known them for a long time, and has only recently found them again.
A full moon rises over the fields, hazing the edges of scattered clouds with gold and blue. They leave the house together and form a sad little procession across the frosting grass, carrying gifts, flowers, fruit and candles. Claire has insisted on coming, too, even though her muscles ache and each step shoots a pain through her ribs. As they enter the stand of trees, Cat pads through the icy dew to join them. They have come to bid their sister farewell and commit her to the protection of the Goddess.
The moon is almost full now, a pale and misty circle of light haloed in a blue haze. The Goddess herself looks down on them, wearing the face of Demeter. She is there to welcome Her daughter and take her home.