October
I opened the front door slowly, my eyes darting left and right. Right and left. My ears were keen to any sound but, as far as I could tell, Stephen wasn’t at home. He had told me he was away on business. Blood roared in my ears as I tiptoed quietly into my own house, my whole body alive to any sound or sign of my husband or daughter.
Clearing my throat, I called out, ‘Stephen?’
No answer.
‘Zoe, darling? Are you home?’
Silence.
I shut the door quietly and let my laptop bag slip from my shoulder to the floor. I gasped when I saw the lace of the black bra I had been wearing earlier poking out of the top of the bag and quickly shoved it out of view. It made me nauseous with guilt. I was sneaking in like a teenager after a party. At the beginning, if I was being honest, it had felt exciting, but now it felt fraught, making me jumpy and anxious.
Walking quickly to the kitchen and sitting at the table, I squeezed my eyes shut and wished, as I did whenever I got back home, that the images of Robert would disappear. It made me feel dirty. My feelings for Robert had grown so out of control, and I with it. I leant backwards, feeling around in the drawer for the medication the doctor had prescribed to calm my nerves, swallowed one whole without water, pulling a face at the bitter taste left in my mouth. Pushing the chair away abruptly, I headed upstairs for a shower.
Turning the shower on to its highest heat, I stripped off my mundane work suit and greying underwear and entered the water. It scalded my skin but I scrubbed hard, trying to rid myself of Robert before Stephen came home. It was wrong, yes, but the problem lay in my inability to give up the happiness Robert had brought me over the past year; I had never believed I would ever feel this good again. Not since Stephen and I first met. Stephen, then, I had thought was the man of my dreams, but it hadn’t taken long for his controlling character to shine through. By which point, I was pregnant with Zoe.
Robert’s scent rose up with the steam and I allowed myself a moment to inhale deeply and, with it, I could almost feel his hands gently caressing my body. Before long, the water started to turn cold, snapping me out of my daydreaming.
What had I become? I was meant to be the responsible adult. I should have known better from the start, but Robert had found me in one of my darkest hours, and our relationship had hurtled out of control. I often wondered whether, if Stephen hadn’t been spending less and less time at home, I would have made the same decision that day in October last year? But he’d pushed me to it, and one day, I found his phone. I couldn’t help myself. My gut instinct had told me to look, my deepest fear had told me I would regret it.
It had taken me seconds to find the messages from someone called Sarah asking for more money. He clearly had some sort of mistress or was using an escort service. I never confronted him because I was relieved, partly because I thought perhaps he wouldn’t notice if I spent more time at the office – with Robert – and, partly because Zoe had been going through a tough time at school preparing for her GCSEs. The last thing she needed was me and her father arguing.
As my mind wandered, I thought about what I had seen a few nights ago. I had spotted Robert talking to someone, a girl, in the college quad. I had seen her silhouetted as she stood behind a column and I’d thought I caught the briefest glimpse of blonde hair. It was dark, the night heavy with fog, and I had heard her laughter tinkling through the air like smashed glass falling on a tiled floor; its sound had cut through my heart. They had walked in the direction of the library. I followed behind, slipping in and out of the shadows of the maze of ancient stone corridors leading onto other bare stone rooms, trying desperately to keep up with their brisk pace. I lost them momentarily but then I opened a rickety door out onto the college green, my eyes scanning the arcade running around its perimeter. I headed in the direction of the main entrance and, as I approached, I had caught a flash of movement off to my left.
I remembered how I walked softly over the lawn and moved towards the corner of the Elizabethan building.
Then I heard them.
I’d flushed hot at being witness to their voices, their hushed tones and urgent whispers. I had not dared enter the room; I hadn’t wanted to see Robert with a younger woman, despite having known deep down that it was bound to happen, that it would be better for him. I peered through the slit in the door and had been able to make out the briefest glimpse of the woman’s ankle. I remembered now how I’d thought I had seen a tattoo, my eyes momentarily captivated by her young skin; then, with a sudden rush of overwhelming jealousy, I ran to my car and drove home quickly. I hadn’t been able to remove the tattoo from my mind, and I still couldn’t. It jarred me every time I thought about it; I felt the same whenever I thought about Robert’s tattoo. His gift, he had called it, to me. Only it felt symbolic of everything I wasn’t: a tattoo represented smooth, unwrinkled skin, spontaneity, and unfulfilled adventures. My life, in comparison, had often felt stale and uninspired. That was until Robert came into it last September.
I had vowed to forget about it. I hadn’t actually seen anything after all, but having lain awake all night, I’d confronted Robert the next afternoon.
‘What, Anne? She’s just a friend.’ He had smiled that heart-melting grin and I’d nodded, and momentarily convinced myself he was telling the truth. But the niggling doubt wouldn’t subside and I knew it was fuelled by my guilt. Who was I to tell him he couldn’t see another woman?
I slapped the shower tile with my hand in frustration, my skin covered in goosebumps from the air hitting my skin. The frustration was that Zoe would never understand that her father, Stephen, was still punishing me for the early days with Zoe. No matter how many medical reports had confirmed the post-natal depression, he’d never forgiven me, and he never would.
I stepped out of the shower, my skin red-raw from first the heat and then the cold air, and cleared the steam from the mirror with the palm of my hand. My reflection caught me unawares: how did Robert find me attractive? I looked old, tired and long past my prime.
I knew I should phone Zoe, check she was okay, check she’d had a fun night at Keira’s house, but I worried she would somehow know I hadn’t been at home. She would know that I was sleeping with a man almost half my age. She would know that I was trapped in the most deliciously exciting and terrifying situation I had ever known.
I wrapped a white fluffy towel around my body and padded over to my dressing table. I started to apply blusher to my cheeks but quickly stopped. What was I doing? Stephen would expect to see me without make-up. I had to keep up a level of normality for Stephen, and for Zoe. I put down the blusher brush and raided the walk-in wardrobe for a pair of jeans and a shirt. Running a brush through my hair, I caught sight of myself in the full-length mirror, and let out a sharp laugh. Robert would sooner die than see me like this. He had seen me in my work suits, in silky underwear that I had to keep in my locked drawer at work, but he had never seen me dressed down like this. No, I realised, staring at my image, this was what came of nearly eighteen years with a controlling husband. I glanced at a photo of our wedding day on the dresser. The gilt-edged frame had been a gift from Stephen – a gaudy token that only reminded me of the furious argument and weeks of silence for which it had been an apology. The frame, to me, reflected everything in our Oxfordshire house and stale marriage: Stephen surrounded himself with the finest, showiest things, whatever would hide the cracks in the critically unstable foundations. To outsiders, perhaps, we looked like a family who were doing well. We had been in the house for our entire married life; it was all we knew. Years ago I had tried to hang some artwork from my student days on the wall but he had immediately banished the pieces to the attic.
I had adored being pregnant, watching my body change shape; a miracle, our own child, growing inside me. I had naively thought it would bring us together, that Stephen and I would be okay. But then something had happened. Something unexpected.
Zoe was born and I cried. Stephen had looked at me then as if I were the most unnatural woman he had ever come across. I wanted to love Zoe, but I couldn’t reconcile this screaming, red-faced alien with the wonder and excitement I’d felt being pregnant. Whenever I thought about my reaction to Zoe entering the world, I was filled with a gnawing sense of guilt and betrayal. I tried to explain to Stephen that I didn’t feel like my normal self, that it felt like another woman had entered my body and was mechanically going about the day-to-day duties of childcare. I could only describe it as an out of body experience. Stephen plucked Zoe from my arms the moment she was wrapped in the blanket by the midwife, and held her tight, as I turned my head and soaked the pillow with tears.
My mobile rang, cutting through my thoughts. I picked it up, my hand shaking and clamped it to my ear in an attempt to control my nerves. It was Stephen.
‘Hi,’ I said, injecting a false cheeriness into my voice. ‘Are you okay?’
‘Are you at home?’ His voice sounded panicked, and I felt a prickle of guilt and anticipation crawl over my body.
‘Yes, why?’
He exhaled loudly. ‘I texted Zoe last night from the conference to see how she was getting on but she hasn’t replied. Is she okay? Was she okay with you last night?’ He coughed. ‘I mean, I know how hard she’s finding college at the moment, so I worry, you know.’
My heart started to drum in my ears. I didn’t know what to say: I couldn’t admit to not being here last night, to leaving only a voicemail for Zoe, not actually speaking to her, saying I was fine with her staying at Keira’s house as she’d asked.
‘She was fine, as far as I could make out,’ I lied.
‘Oh, okay, well maybe she’ll give me a ring later?’
‘Yes, of course. I’ll let her know you’re worried.’
I willed him to ask me how I was, but he didn’t and hung up.
The clock by the bed read nine a.m. On any ordinary Saturday, I would be getting dressed, listening to the giddy chat of Stephen and Zoe in the kitchen as they discussed their plans for the day. Today the house was cloaked in an unbearable silence. I almost wished I hadn’t left the warmth of Robert’s body, his legs wrapped around me as he slept, while I had watched his face, so youthful – so smooth – twitching ever so slightly as he slumbered. I texted Zoe asking if she was okay and headed downstairs with my laundry, careful to remove the lacy bra from my bag and pop it in the wash, too. I needed to erase all the evidence. I could often smell Robert on my skin and it fed my paranoia around Stephen and Zoe.
I sat at the table, grabbing a loaf of bread off the side, idly picking at it. I realised I hadn’t eaten since yesterday lunchtime because, when I was with Robert, we generally forgot about food, about anything that existed on the other side of his bedroom door.
The landline rang and I rose, immediately tensing at the thought of Stephen asking about Zoe’s whereabouts again.
‘Hello?’ I answered coolly.
‘Oh hi, it’s Keira.’
‘Hi, Keira,’ I said, frowning, irritation flooding my body, at the sound of her voice. I wished I could be fonder of Keira, but I’d always blamed her for leading Zoe astray.
But then, as quickly, I realised that Keira was phoning for Zoe, which meant Zoe couldn’t be with her.
‘Is Zoe there?’
‘No,’ I said, guilt beginning to eat away at my conscience, a fluttering of anxiety starting at the base of my throat. ‘I thought she was with you?’
‘She’s not.’ Keira hesitated. ‘We were going into Oxford today and I wondered what time she wanted to meet.’
‘Didn’t Zoe stay with you last night?’
‘No, why?’
‘We spoke yesterday on the phone and she said she was going to stay overnight with you,’ I lied again.
‘Oh.’ Keira hesitated. ‘We didn’t even see each other yesterday.’
‘What?’ Panic cloyed at me. ‘What do you mean? You saw her at college, didn’t you? Don’t you have film studies together on a Friday?’
My mind was running at speed.
‘Yeah, but she didn’t turn up. I texted her and she said she was ill.’
My stomach grew queasy and I gripped the kitchen counter, my knuckles turning white.
‘Keira, she wasn’t ill yesterday. Or, at least, she wasn’t at home.’ Of course, I couldn’t be sure about this but if this was one of Keira’s silly little games, I needed to nip it in the bud now.
‘How would you know?’ I heard the accusatory tone in Keira’s voice. This, I thought, was why I had never liked Keira. ‘Zoe told me you’re barely at home these days, always getting to work early or staying late.’
‘Keira.’
‘Well, Mrs Hall, she didn’t stay with me last night and she’s not answering my texts.’
I picked up my mobile, praying it would show one unread message from my daughter, but there was nothing.
‘Keira,’ I said quickly, ‘can you ring around your friends, maybe look in places you’d ordinarily go to?’ I paused. ‘When did you last see Zoe?’
‘Thursday. We had a study day to do coursework.’
‘So you guys were at college?’
‘Not exactly.’ She sounded hesitant.
‘Keira, come on, I need to know if you’ve got Zoe into trouble again.’
‘Not being funny, but I just rang to speak to Zoe, not to get an earful from you, Mrs Hall.’
I tried to keep my voice level but it was hard; Keira was holding out on me. As ever, I had a feeling she had led my daughter down the wrong path. ‘I just need you to tell me as much as possible. We need to track Zoe down.’
‘We went to that farm up the road.’ She paused. ‘We were just hanging out. That’s it.’ She sounded sheepish, ‘Anyway, that was the last I saw of her.’
My mind pictured the dilapidated bungalow and surrounding fields: Rook Farm. Why on earth would they be hanging around up there? It struck me as odd that they would go back up there after what had happened only months ago. When they were younger, they used to play the game Truth or Dare, and it was only recently that I discovered they still played it, only now the truths and the dares were no longer innocent childhood fun and, because of their film course, they would often video themselves. I was still resolute in my certainty that Keira had led Zoe astray.
‘I don’t believe Zoe would have chosen to go there, Keira. Not after what happened. So what were you doing there?’
‘It was just for a laugh,’ Keira said, her voice growing defensive, immediately alerting me to something being wrong, ‘but we didn’t do anything. Just spoke to that weird farmer guy. Zoe reckons he’s…’ She stopped herself. ‘Oh, never mind.’
‘He’s what?’
‘He’s hot,’ she muttered. ‘That’s all I was going to say. No big deal.’
My stomach did a somersault. Zoe had told me months ago that Jerry Wyre, the farmer, had made a pass at her. So why on earth would she have gone back? No, I decided, it was Keira once again making out that Zoe was to blame. I knew, without a flicker of doubt, that Zoe had been dragged back there by Keira.
Suddenly, I heard the letter slot open and snap shut, and I jumped, my nerves frayed. I walked quickly to the hall. The mail lay on the mat. I didn’t know why but I pulled the door open and walked outside; there was no sign of anyone, except the postman walking away and the neighbour’s cat sunning itself on the lawn. So why did I feel like I was being watched? My skin crawled with unease.
‘Keira, I’m going to have to go,’ I said hurriedly into the phone.
‘Will you let me know what’s going on?’
I thought about Zoe, about Keira not knowing where she was, and my stomach knotted with fear once again. Something wasn’t right. My breathing came hard and fast as if my lungs were being crushed.
‘Mrs Hall?’
My knees started to buckle and I knew I needed to hang up on Keira. What if something had happened to Zoe? ‘Yes, I’ll be in touch.’
‘Okay.’ Keira sounded less sure of herself now. ‘Is it going to be okay?’
‘Yes, Keira,’ I said with more defiance than I felt. ‘It’s going to be fine.’
I cut the call, dropped the phone on the hall console and walked through to the kitchen, sitting quickly at the table, my legs shaking uncontrollably. Just as quickly, I rose and popped another pill in my mouth, cupping my hand under the tap to wash it down. I took another and it immediately caused my stomach to cramp but I needed to numb the tide of panic building inside. My breathing grew increasingly shallow as my mind grew dark with the realisation that Zoe might be missing.
I couldn’t shrug off the feeling that I was being watched. Or was I being paranoid? Had I taken one too many pills? My gaze flitted about the kitchen as I drank in the familiar sights of the house. I shook my head, my eyes taking a moment to adjust back to my surroundings. No, I decided, it must have been the pills and my worry over Zoe making me think irrational thoughts.
Minutes passed and I willed Zoe to ring the house phone, ring me on my mobile. When my mobile buzzed in my hand, I jumped. It was an unknown number.
‘Hello?’ I said, fighting my nerves.
‘Freya?’ It was Stephen. ‘I’m phoning from the hotel room. I’ve just had a look at Zoe’s profile on Facebook and Keira’s asking if anyone’s seen her.’ His voice was shrill and I swallowed deeply. ‘What’s going on?’
‘Keira phoned here about five minutes ago asking for Zoe.’
‘And?’
‘She’s not here and apparently she didn’t stay with Keira last night.’ I paused. ‘I asked her to get in touch with people they know to see if anyone’s seen her.’ Warm tears began to stream down my cheeks. ‘I had no idea she would message everyone using Facebook.’
‘Freya,’ Stephen cut in, ‘why the hell didn’t you phone me?’
‘Give me a break, Stephen. I’ve literally only just found out myself.’
‘Shit,’ I could hear him muttering, ‘fuck. I’m leaving. I’m coming home now.’
‘She’ll probably walk back through the door at any moment. Anyway, you’re miles away. It would take you ages to get back and then she’ll walk through the door the moment you arrive home. You know what Zoe’s like, she’s a free spirit,’ I said, trying to soothe him, but I recognised I was starting to slur my words and I stopped abruptly. ‘This isn’t the first time she’s not come home straight away. Remember back in May when she didn’t come home for twenty-four hours and she told us she was with Keira but Keira hadn’t known anything about it? I reckon this is the same. We’ll just need to talk to her when she gets back, tell her it’s not on.’
‘The time in May, at least she was in contact with me and told me she was okay. She’s just gone silent and that’s not like Zoe at all.’
I had to admit that Zoe had told us not to worry and that she had something important to do. We never did find out what it was but she came home safe and sound, and that was all that mattered. Stephen, to this day, swore she had changed while she had been away, but I wasn’t convinced. To me, she was the same daughter who had clearly been testing us for whatever reason, for twenty-four hours. In fact, it occurred to me that perhaps Zoe was staying away on purpose now. Maybe she wanted our attention.
‘Have you been drinking?’ Stephen asked, breaking into my thoughts.
‘No,’ I said.
‘It’s nine a.m, for fuck’s sake, Freya.’
‘I haven’t,’ I said, frustration mounting inside. The pills were making me feel woozy.
‘Phone the police. I’m on my way home. I’m only in Oxford anyway.’
My mind was whirring with images of Zoe: the last time I’d seen her, she hadn’t been smiling. If I was honest with myself, she had looked preoccupied, maybe unhappy. I had got angry with her; thought she was just being a hormonal teenager. I remembered my final words to her as I went to bed on Thursday night:
‘Zo, life does not revolve around you.’
Life does not revolve around you…
I choked back a sob as an overwhelming sense of failure swept through me and I tried to think straight, my mind whirring with guilt.
‘You know, she’s probably just testing us?’ I said after a moment or two of silence. I delivered it as more of a question and realised I wanted Stephen to confirm that was exactly what was happening and it was all going to be fine.
‘No, I don’t think so. I have a bad feeling.’ I could hear him zipping up a bag. ‘I’m coming home now.’
He was right. I knew it; I just wanted him to tell me it would be fine. But my body was strung out: ready to snap. It was the fluttering in my stomach that told me Zoe was in trouble. Stephen denied my ever having a maternal instinct but he was wrong: I could feel it now, Zoe needed me. Maybe she had needed me last night. That thought struck my heart with force and I whimpered, my hand over my mouth, as I realised how I hadn’t been at home, I hadn’t been where I should have been all along.
Stephen cut the call.
I rushed to the sink and wretched, my mind buzzing with panic. I turned my head, my eyes flitting towards the front door, waiting for Zoe to walk in, waiting for my daughter to come home safely.