i.
It worked. The girl did what she was supposed to do and now she is back at home. The country rejoices, a miracle! But who took her? And why did they return her? It’s a mystery, a puzzle, and this country of crosswords and quiz shows loves nothing more than a puzzle.
Was she raped? Experimented on? Taken by aliens and implanted with a chip? All these theories and more are out there, running the full gamut from the cerebral to the crazy. They look for patterns, these denizens of chat rooms, these speculators in the comments section of newspapers. Was there ever a more public demonstration of the bizarreness of the human species than the comments sections? You can find any opinion you can imagine (and more besides) below the line. People’s minds run in all directions and you can see it on the internet.
Like the patterns they discern – the girl was gone a week – seven days from disappearance to return. Is this significant? Does this mean something? Can we infer that the kidnapper likes completeness? That he or she deals only in entire months or weeks or years? Perhaps they are autistic, or religious, or maybe it is a simple coincidence.
No, not that. Not a coincidence. That would never do. That would not fit their need for explanations.
And the day chosen for her return was not random. But it was nothing to do with the fact that a week had passed. No. You chose that day for a real reason, a good reason: because it fitted your design. Because it moved your plan along. Because it was the right thing to do.
But they will keep looking. Keep generating their theories. No doubt they have doctors checking her, but she is unharmed. You could tell them that. You won’t, of course. That would give the game away.
And the game is not yet over. There is more to come. And soon.
And the girl is no longer the target.
This time, it is the mother.
ii.
Julia heard them before she saw them.
It was just past six a.m., Saturday morning, and Anna and Brian were still sleeping. When she reached the bottom of the stairs she did not meet the silence she expected: there was a low buzz of voices and of engines running.
She went into the front room and put her eye to a crack in the curtains, careful not to move them.
They were back. Those bastards from the press were back. This time there were camera vans as well as reporters.
What the hell did they want? The story was old news by now, or old enough, anyway. She and Brian had made it clear they wanted to be left alone and any statements would be issued by the police’s press department. There was nothing for them to gain by hanging around outside the house. Besides, she thought that DI Wynne had put a stop to it, but evidently it hadn’t worked.
So fuck it. She was just going to get on with her day. She’d have a cup of tea, make some breakfast, and then she’d go for a run. She’d been planning a morning run – to get some fresh air, in Edna’s words – and she was damned if she was going to change her plans because of those vultures.
As the kettle boiled she reached for her computer, then stopped herself. She wasn’t going to read the news. She was going to keep herself isolated from it. She was going to rise above.
When she had finished her cereal she put on her trainers. For a second she considered sneaking out through the back garden, climbing over the wall to the neighbours’ garden and vanishing into the grey morning, but she shook her head. She wasn’t going to sneak around. She had nothing to hide from.
She opened the front door. There was an instant snap of activity: cameras raised and shutters sounding, bodies pressing forwards.
‘Excuse me,’ Julia said. ‘But I’m going for a run. Please let me past.’
The scrum in front of her didn’t react. One man – she recognized his acne-scarred face from the last time – held out a phone, no doubt set to record.
‘Mrs Crowne,’ he said. ‘Is it true that you tried to commit suicide the day Anna was found?’
She froze.
‘I’m sorry?’ she said.
‘Is it true that you suffered a failed suicide attempt the day Anna was found?’
A tall red-headed woman with big eyes leaned forwards. ‘Was it before or after you heard that your daughter had showed up?’
Julia stepped back inside. She slammed the door. Her hands shook on the Yale lock as she deadlocked it.
How did they know about the sleeping pills? There was someone in the police leaking this stuff, there had to be. It made sense: cops and journalists were close, but how could they do this? How could they put her through it?
She went into the kitchen and opened her laptop.
She started to read.
iii.
ANNA MUM IN SUICIDE BID
It emerged yesterday that Julia Crowne, mother of Anna, the five-year-old who walked into a newsagent a week after her disappearance had launched a global manhunt, attempted suicide on the morning of Anna’s return.
Mrs Crowne took a combination of sleeping pills and alcohol in an attempt to end her life. Her husband, Brian Crowne, found her unconscious on the couch, and, with the aid of his mother, Dr Edna Crowne, managed to revive her.
There has been speculation that Mrs Crowne’s suicide attempt may have been triggered by the discovery that her daughter was still alive. On top of Anna’s abduction, Mrs Crowne had also endured a difficult time, with suggestions that she may have been at fault for her child’s disappearance common in the press.
In the weeks before their daughter vanished Mrs Crowne had informed her husband that she wanted to leave both him and Anna, leading to speculation that she might have been suffering from depression. According to one acquaintance Mrs Crowne also has ‘a difficult relationship with alcohol.’
Julia closed her laptop. She could not grasp what she had read, could not get a handle on the implications of the contents of the story.
She could think only one thing: it was happening again. Once again they were painting her in the worst possible way. According to this she was an unstable, suicidal alcoholic, suffering from depression, who had already failed to take adequate care of the daughter she was planning to leave.
I know I shouldn’t do this, she thought. I know I shouldn’t, but I can’t stop myself. I have to know what they’re saying.
She opened Twitter and searched for her name. There was no shortage of hits. She was, it seemed, trending:
The hashtag #notfittobeamum was still out there:
As well as some new ones, freshly-minted by the internetariat, one tweet had managed to invent two further new ones:
Who were these people who felt the need to abuse strangers? Did it make them feel better? Braver? That they were saying something important, which might have an impact on the world? Or were they just lashing out, hoping to hurt someone? Thank God they had Twitter to help them with that. For all the benefits of interconnectedness that Twitter – and the internet generally – gave to mankind, there was the ever-present drawback that it was an open window to the sewers of the human mind.
She hear Brian’s footsteps on the stairs. Seconds later the living room door opened.
‘What do they want?’ he said. ‘I heard them shouting from my bedroom window.’
She handed him her laptop. ‘This.’
He scanned the screen. ‘Jesus,’ he said. ‘How did they find out?’
‘The cops,’ Julia said. ‘They must have a contact on the inside.’
He carried on reading. ‘And it’s not even true,’ he said. ‘According to you, anyway. And Mum said you’d be fine when you woke up.’
Good for fucking Mum, Julia thought.
‘So what now?’ she said.
Brian shrugged. ‘Ignore them, I guess. They’ll go away in the end.’
‘That’s easy for you to say. It’s not your life that they’re splashing – wrongly – all over the world. I mean, they’re making me out to be this awful, drunken, crazy bitch. It’s just not fair.’ She looked away. She didn’t want him to see her cry. He might try to comfort her, put his arms around her, and that, she feared, would make her vomit.
But it seemed he was not interested in comforting her.
‘Yeah,’ he said. ‘Well. What goes around, comes around.’
Julia looked up him. ‘What’s that supposed to mean.’
‘Just that you started this. You declared that you wanted out of our marriage. If you hadn’t done that then we’d be fine now, wouldn’t we? Anna would be home and we’d be getting on with our lives.’
Julia stared at him. ‘Are you serious?’
‘It’s true, isn’t it? Forget that your mistake meant Anna was taken; she’s back now. And if you hadn’t decided to end our marriage we’d be ok. The press might have blamed you a bit, but that would have passed. There’d have been no suicide attempt, if that’s what it was, because we’d have had each other. Apart from Anna’s abduction, this … ’ he made a vague, sweeping gesture, ‘all stems from your decision to break this family apart.’
‘So I was supposed to stay with you in case this happened? Every woman who wants to leave a relationship should stay, in case this happens to them? Don’t you see how ridiculous that is?’
‘Maybe. But it’s true.’
‘No. It isn’t. If I hadn’t decided to end our marriage, I’d still be unhappily stuck in it.’
‘You can’t admit it, can you? Even now?’
‘Admit what?’
‘That it was a mistake.’
‘No,’ Julia said. ‘I can’t. Because it wasn’t. Not picking up Anna was a mistake, I’ll admit that. But ending our marriage wasn’t. And you know how I know that? Because if I hadn’t done it then, I’d be doing it now.’
She was surprised by the bitterness, by the sheer rage and hatred between them. All she wanted was to wound him. Hurt him. Stab him with her words. Stab him with a knife. Kick him. Bite him.
It was a terrible, awful feeling. She closed her eyes against it, against him, against the world.
Forget Monday. The sooner he was gone, the better.
‘I think you should leave,’ she said, eyes still closed. ‘Go to your mum’s, today.’
There was no reply. When she opened her eyes he was gone.
iv.
‘Mum says I can come tonight.’
Brian was standing in the kitchen door frame.
‘Ok,’ Julia said. ‘Sounds good.’
‘What will we tell Anna?’
‘I don’t know. What do you think?’
‘Mum suggested saying nothing. Just tell her that I’m going to her place for a night.’
‘We’ll have to tell her the truth soon.’
‘I know. But not today.’ Brian’s gaze met hers for a second, then he looked away, as though he couldn’t bear to look at her. ‘I’ll come back tomorrow afternoon to get some of my belongings.’
‘OK. What time?’
‘Two p.m. Something like that.’
‘Fine.’
And so it was done.
Julia woke abruptly, snapping into consciousness, her heart racing, her body flooded with adrenaline.
She was on high alert, and she didn’t know why. What had woken her? What had triggered her body’s sudden leap into this tense, wired state? A noise? Had she heard something?
Next to her, Anna lay asleep. She glanced at the alarm clock. Three twenty in the morning. She lifted her head off the pillow, straining to listen.
Outside, the sound of the wind in the trees. Inside, silence. Just the normal creaks and groans of a house. Just the noises of the witching hour.
Unless they were the creaks and groans of someone stealthy. Someone who could successfully kidnap a child. Someone who could return the child and not be caught.
Someone who might be in her house right that moment.
Julia sat upright. She got out of bed and pulled on her jeans and a T-shirt. She walked to the bedroom door and stood there, listening.
Nothing.
She crossed the room to the window and looked out. The police car was there, outside the house. Two officers sat in the front seat. Her heart rate fell, the panic subsiding.
And then she saw him. A man, wearing a dark hoodie, standing under a sycamore tree at the far end of the street. He was motionless, staring – at least, Julia thought he was staring – at the house.
Oh my God, Julia thought. He’s here. He’s here right now. Watching us. I have to wake Brian up.
But Brian wasn’t there. Brian was with Edna.
Julia picked up Anna, and ran.
‘Yes, ma’am,’ the officer said. He was in his late twenties, and bleary-eyed. He held the top of a silver flask in his hand. It was filled with coffee. Julia wondered whether his wife or girlfriend or mother had made it for him as he left for night duty. ‘We’ll have a look.’
Julia held Anna –who was still asleep – against her chest. ‘I saw him,’ she said. ‘I know I did. Right there, at the end of the street.’
She felt foolish. She’d run outside and banged on the window of the police car, babbling about the man watching her, watching and waiting.
But there was no one there, and she could tell that the police officers thought she was seeing things.
She couldn’t blame them. Even she thought she might be seeing things.
‘I’m sure you did,’ the officer said. ‘I’ll walk up there now and take a look.’
‘Look for clues,’ Julia said. ‘Footprints. Things like that.’
‘I will do, ma’am,’ he said, and smiled. ‘Why don’t you go back inside? See if you can get some sleep. You’re safe with us here.’
Julia nodded and went back into her house.
It took her a long time to fall back to sleep.
v.
At midday the next day the doorbell rang.
Brian, come to get his stuff. So he rang the doorbell now. How quickly something as fundamental as your home could change. Just like that he no longer had the right to put his key in the door and open it unannounced.
He was with Edna. They stood on the front step, both wearing matching new Ray-Ban sunglasses.
‘A lovely day,’ Edna said. ‘Summer’s finally here.’
‘Come in,’ Julia said.
They stood in the hallway. It suddenly seemed very narrow and awkward. Julia backed away.
‘So,’ she said. ‘What’s the plan?’
Brian was saved from answering by Anna’s arrival.
‘Daddy!’ she shouted, as he scooped her into his arms. ‘Did you stay at Grandma’s last night?’
‘I did,’ Brian said.
‘Why?’
‘Because … ’ he glanced at Julia and Edna, ‘because I had a—’
‘Because I needed help with something,’ Edna said. ‘Daddy’s going to be helping me quite a bit from now on, so he’ll be staying with me.’ She looked at Julia, her face fixed and hard. ‘Your mummy will tell you all about it.’
‘That’s right, darling,’ Julia said. ‘We can talk about it later.’
‘Do you want to see my painting, Daddy?’ Anna said.
‘I’d love to,’ Brian replied. ‘Where is it?’
‘In the breakfast room. Come on.’
They followed Anna through the house. When they reached the two easels she turned and flung her hands out like a circus showman.
‘Ta-da!’ she said.
‘Wow,’ Brian said, nodding at the morass of paint smeared on the paper. ‘That is amazing. Can you tell me what it’s called?’
‘It’s called Pony Trek,’ Anna said. ‘It’s ponies. Lots of them.’
‘I see that,’ Brian said. ‘I love it.’ He ruffled her hair and bent down to kiss her. ‘I just have to go upstairs for a few minutes,’ he said. ‘I’ll see you in a sec’.’
When he was gone Edna beckoned Julia into the kitchen.
‘You know,’ she said. ‘It might be nice for Brian to have a few moments alone with Anna. To say goodbye. He won’t make a fuss of it, but this is a big moment for him.’
‘What are you saying, Edna?’ Julia said.
‘I’m saying that you could go for a walk for an hour or so. That would give Brian a chance to pack up and also to spend a bit of time with his daughter.’
Julia folded her arms. ‘I don’t know,’ she said. ‘I can go in the other room. Or stay upstairs. I don’t feel like going out.’
‘There are no press, if that’s what you’re worried about. They’re gone.’
‘It’s not just that. It’s … you know, seeing people. I don’t want them staring at me.’
‘Wear a cap. No one will recognize you. And if they do they won’t say anything.’
‘I don’t think so, Edna.’
‘You’re going to have to face it sooner or later,’ Edna said. ‘Might as well get it over with. It’s like removing a plaster. Better just to rip it off.’
Jesus, Julia thought. She never gives up. She looked out at the blue skies. She hadn’t seen much sun recently, and it was a lovely day.
‘Fine,’ she said. ‘But I might not be an hour.’
‘Whatever you can give him will be greatly appreciated,’ Edna said. ‘Thank you, Julia.’
At the end of the road, Julia took a narrow snicket that led to the canal towpath. The canal was a narrow, lazy band of muddy water that saw little traffic beyond the day cruisers and occasional canal dweller. She had always considered it as inferior to the river in the park, preferring the livelier charms of the moving, rushing water, but on such a warm day the park would be busy, whereas the canal would be populated only by the usual band of dog walkers and solitary fishermen.
It felt good to move. Good to be outside with the sun on her skin. Good to feel the blood rush in her body. Much as she disliked Edna’s way of declaiming the benefits of fresh air and exercise, and much as she did not agree that they were a cure for all ills, she had to admit that her mother-in-law had a point. She felt better than she had since Anna’s disappearance.
She strode along. On the opposite bank a family of swans, the cygnets fluffy and grey and already the size of ducks, pecked at some weeds. The surface of the water rippled with the movements of invisible insects; bubbles – from fish, maybe – occasionally rose to the light. In what appeared, at first glance, to be a still, barren landscape there was so much going on. There was so much life.
A few miles from home she passed a bench. It was by a bridge that led up to a main road, where she knew there was a petrol garage with a small convenience store. She was thirsty, so she climbed the steps and headed for the garage.
In the store, cap over her eyes, she grabbed a bottle of Buxton spring water and a Twix. She avoided looking at the newspapers.
‘Nice day,’ the man behind the counter said. He was tall, well over six foot, and in his mid to late fifties. He had a crown of greying hair around a bald spot. His eyes were sharp behind thick glasses. ‘You out for a walk on the canal?’
‘Yes,’ Julia said. ‘How did you know?’
‘Not many people walk here. Those that do come from the canal path. See many people, did you?’
Julia shook her head and handed him a twenty pound note. She felt suddenly uncomfortable, suddenly very aware that she was alone in a secluded place and that this man knew it. This man with hard eyes and an abrupt manner knew it.
She told herself not to be stupid. There was nothing wrong with the guy. He wasn’t a rapist; just bored and a bit blunt. There were plenty of them around. Two weeks ago she wouldn’t have thought twice about him.
But this wasn’t two weeks ago. Two weeks ago she had been aware in a vague way that there were people out there who abducted children or raped and killed people, but now she knew it in a different way, and she knew something about it that she had never really thought true: she knew it could happen to her.
What if he was a rapist? What if he was the one who had taken Anna? What if he didn’t even really work here, but had been following her and had somehow dashed in and killed the person – a young girl, in Julia’s visions – who worked here?
He held out her change. She stared at it. She didn’t want to take it from him, didn’t want to touch his hand.
‘You all right?’ he asked.
She didn’t answer. The connection between her brain and her mouth was frozen.
‘Hey,’ he said. ‘You ok?’
Finally, she managed to get some control of herself.
‘Yes,’ she said. ‘I’m ok. Just a bit hot.’
He frowned. ‘You far from home?’
‘A bit. No. A few miles.’
‘You should get a taxi, love. You don’t look all that well. You want me to call you one?’
She opened her mouth to say yes but then she stopped herself.
What if he calls a friend? she thought. What if this is part of his plot?
But then a taxi did sound like a good idea. The thought of the walk home was not very appealing. She looked at the clock on the wall. She’d been gone forty minutes. She should probably be getting home.
‘I’ll call one,’ she said. ‘I’ve got my phone.’
‘All right,’ he said. He put her change – a ten pound note and some coins – on the countertop. ‘Have it your way.’
She left. There was a bus stop up the road. She went and sat on the bench inside. It was red, the paint chipping off it. She put her head in her hands and massaged her scalp. She felt like she was crazy. The guy was just doing his job, just an ordinary guy selling petrol and newspapers and snacks, and she was thinking he was a murderer or rapist or some kind of predatory paedophile. Was she going to turn into someone who saw bogeymen behind every shadow, who was paralysed by their own fear? She understood why she might but, nonetheless, it was ridiculous. She couldn’t go through life in terror. It would have to stop.
There was a knock on the glass window of the bus shelter.
The man from the garage was standing there.
Julia screamed. She jumped to her feet and backed into the corner of the bus shelter.
‘Please,’ she said, breathless. ‘Please, leave me alone.’
The man stared at her for a few seconds, then backed away.
‘Whoah,’ he said. ‘I don’t know what you’re thinking, but you’re wrong. I just came because you left your change at the garage. That’s all.’ He held out his left hand. It contained a ten pound note and a handful of coins. He bent down. ‘I’ll put it here,’ he said. ‘You pick it up when you’re ready.’ As he stood he paused. ‘Hey,’ he said. ‘Are you … ’
Julia nodded.
‘I’m glad your daughter came back. You should be getting home. Did you call a cab?’
‘Yes,’ Julia lied. ‘It’s on the way.’
The man smiled. ‘Good. You take care, now.’
Julia watched as he walked back to the garage. As he went inside, she called for a taxi.
The taxi pulled up at the house. She paid the driver and opened the back door. On the way back she’d made a decision. She didn’t think she was ready to be alone. The thought that Anna’s abductor was still out there was too unsettling. She couldn’t even go for a walk without ending up running home in a panic. She needed company. She needed support. She needed protection.
She was going to ask Brian to stay. She had to. They didn’t need to be a couple, they didn’t need to even talk, but she could not be alone right now. She didn’t need a husband; she needed a protector.
He’d understand, she was sure. Whatever had passed between them he was still a decent man and he’d see that she needed him. Even if he didn’t, he’d see that Anna needed him. What if the abductor was out there? She’d be safer with two parents than one.
Once this was over, he could go. But not now.
She turned the key in the top lock and the door swung open.
‘Hi,’ she said. ‘I’m back.’
There was no reply. In fact, there was no noise at all. The house was silent. No television, no footsteps, no murmured voices.
‘Anna!’ she shouted. ‘Brian! Where are you?’
Still no answer.
The garden, she thought. They’re in the garden. Of course.
She went through the kitchen to the back door. It was locked.
Which meant they were not outside.
Near frantic now, she grabbed the key from the windowsill – not the best place to keep it, she knew that – and turned it in the lock. The door opened.
She heard birds, car engines, the distant shouts of a Sunday football game.
But no Brian. And no Anna.
She grabbed her phone and called her husband’s mobile. It rang twice, then he answered.
‘Brian,’ she said. ‘Is Anna with you?’
‘Of course,’ he said. ‘I wouldn’t leave her on her own, would I?’
‘What are you doing?’ Julia said. ‘Why aren’t you here?’
‘I’m taking her to Mum’s,’ he said. ‘It’s the best – the safest – place for her.’
‘You can’t do that!’ Julia said. ‘You can’t just take her without my permission!’
‘I knew you wouldn’t give it,’ Brian said. ‘But it’s best for her if she’s with me.’
‘You turn around right now and bring her back!’ Julia shouted. ‘You do that right fucking now or I’ll call the police!’
‘I already did. They needed to know to have the police guard outside this house.’
‘You can’t do this,’ Julia said. ‘You can’t.’
‘I can. I did. I had no choice, Julia. I have to do what’s best for my daughter.’
‘What’s best for her is to be with her mum!’
‘I don’t agree.’ He paused, and she heard Edna’s voice in the background. Edna. She should have known that Edna was behind this. ‘Mum says you should come to the house tomorrow to discuss things.’
‘I’m coming today. I’m coming right now!’
‘You need to calm down first. It’ll just upset Anna. Tomorrow. Nine a.m.’
The line went dead. Julia pressed redial, but it went straight to voicemail.
Fuck tomorrow. Fuck nine a.m. She was going there right that instant.