Chapter Six

I turn the TV off and sit back on the sofa. The house is completely still. I watch my reflection in the black screen of the TV. My face distorts, and I crumple into silent tears. My heart starts pounding and my chest tightens. Make a list, make a list, make a list.

The pounding subsides a little, air escapes down my throat and my chest loosens ever so slightly. But I’m left with the same thoughts. This isn’t the documentary I signed up for. There are things about my daughter I never knew.

And seeing Graham’s face, hearing his voice, seeing him speak about Katy as if he was as close to her as anyone else in her life, it’s almost too much to bear.

Seeing my own face, I thought I was prepared for it, but it’s like that wasn’t me speaking, it was someone I don’t recognise. They asked me that question without prepping me, about where I thought she was the evening before, but I offered them the rest, didn’t I? I told them I didn’t like Graham and that I didn’t think she’d tell me. I made her out as a liar, but what I had said was nothing to what Graham accused Katy of.

I haven’t spoken to him since before Katy went missing, but I didn’t like their relationship. I agreed with Joanna: I thought he was too old for her, too controlling, too sure of what he wanted from somebody. Katy was so young, she had her whole life ahead of her. She had mistakes to make, but I didn’t want him to be one of them. Had I voiced that to her? I don’t think so. I stayed out of it, and then regretted it when she didn’t come home, and the weeks and months and years that followed, and I thought he had something to do with it.

Now it was the time to dredge everything back up again, but not this way; he’s been given his own platform to exonerate himself completely. Not only that but he’s accused Katy of being a liar, of being unfaithful to him. He’s smeared her name, and she isn’t here to defend herself.

I pick up the phone. How could they let this happen? I get Maggie’s voicemail.

‘It’s Grace, call me back asap.’

I hang up but my phone lights up again. It’s Mum, she stayed up late to watch the documentary and now she’ll blame me for what they’re saying about Katy. How could you?

How could I? I thought I was doing the right thing. They talked me into it, they told me it could reopen the investigation and something might finally be done. There might be closure.

This feels far from any closure. I don’t pick up the call. I can’t explain what I don’t understand. She’ll be mad at me for that as well. She knows I’m sitting home alone in the dark watching the documentary too. That I’ve seen what she’s seen.

I knew that they had spoken to her English professor, that he had been accused of being inappropriate with some students. There were some email exchanges between him and Katy that seemed too friendly, and she had his number … which might not have seemed like much at the time, but afterwards it felt like everything.

They questioned him and told me he wasn’t involved, that nothing had occurred between him and Katy, they were sure of it. I can’t believe what Graham’s saying. He’s only saying it to deflect from his own guilt.

Joanna is calling.

But I’m mad at her too; she knew what Graham thought, she knew all about this and never said a word. I’ve been close to her since Katy disappeared, we used to speak almost daily, about a lot sometimes, and then other days nothing at all.

I answer, but I don’t say a word.

‘Grace, are you there?’ her soft voice whispers.

I nod, but she doesn’t know.

‘I’m sorry, I didn’t say anything because I knew it wasn’t true. I had no idea that he’d be saying that, no idea at all, you have to believe me. Please, Grace, are you there?’

‘I’m here.’

‘Please, I’m as shocked as you are. Graham thought something had happened between them, something consensual, and then I guess he was like a dog with a bone when all that stuff about Katy’s English professor came out in the news, and other students came forward. It’s almost like …’ she pauses, sniffing ‘… like it had proven him right. He was so smug, wasn’t he? Such a fucking bastard.’

‘Jo,’ I whisper.

‘I’m just angry,’ she says. ‘This isn’t what I thought they’d put out there, it’s made Katy out like she was caught up in something seedy, and put shitty Graham in the clear. How could they?’

‘I don’t know.’

‘I’m so sorry, Grace, do you want me to come over?’

I shake my head. ‘No, it’s late. We could meet tomorrow, though? I just need to wrap my head around everything.’

‘And to leave the episode on a shitty cliffhanger,’ she says, ignoring me. ‘When is the next one out?’

‘Tomorrow night, it’s on every night for the rest of the week,’ I say.

Joanna’s baby starts to cry in the background and she holds her hand over the phone, so there are just muffled words as she speaks to her husband.

‘I have to go,’ she says, ‘But yes, tomorrow.’

‘I’ll come to you?’ I ask.

‘Yes, half 4 okay? Or …’ she pauses ‘… you could come over here in the evening to watch it together?’

‘No, I need to be alone, I don’t know what else they’ll say.’

‘You should call them – I already have – tell them that this isn’t what you agreed to.’

‘It’s not my show,’ I whisper, ‘I didn’t agree to anything.’

‘This is so wrong, what they’re saying about Katy, but Grace, before you go, don’t believe a word of Graham’s lies. He’s a sad little man and he always has been. Anyway, I really have to go.’

‘Joanna?’

‘Yes?’

‘Do you know if Graham still lives in that flat by the harbour?’

Joanna is silent for a moment. ‘I don’t know.’

‘Okay, goodnight,’ I say.

‘Grace, don’t do anything stupid, please.’

‘I won’t.’ I lie.

* * *

I’m standing outside the blue terraced house, the one I saw tonight on TV. The one where Graham’s mum lives, Tara. I recognised the house as soon as I saw it. I picked Katy up once from here late one night, only a week before she went missing. Katy made Graham’s mum homemade fudge and got her a bottle of nice brandy when she broke her arm, and they ended up drinking most of it and Katy needed me to come and get her.

It’s late. I check my phone, 11pm, about the time I picked her up before. Graham’s mum had seen me outside, the curtain had twitched slightly. Can she see me now? The house sits in darkness, the curtains drawn, a streetlight casting a glow across the pot plants.

She might be asleep. She might not even be there, and what would I say if she did answer the door?

I want to know where Graham is. I want to speak to him.

She knew I never liked him, that I didn’t approve of the relationship. We went out to dinner once, the four of us, at some swanky restaurant in Clifton where I felt uncomfortable and out of place. They all knew I didn’t want to be there, but Katy beamed at me, just happy that I’d come at all. We spent the evening eating overpriced tiny portions of impossible-to-pronounce food, talking about Graham mostly, and what he had planned for his future, how he and Katy would buy a house in Redland, just around the corner from Tara. I looked over at Katy and she looked bewildered, but happy.

Looking back on it now, maybe she was unsure.

I get out of the car and walk up the path, purpose in every stride, my hand held up to the knocker, when the door swings open.

Tara is standing in her dressing gown, greying blonde hair pulled up into a neat bun. Her face unsurprised, maybe even slightly amused?

‘It’s late,’ she says, like she was expecting me, just not tonight.

‘I know, but I didn’t think it could wait.’

She shakes her head. ‘I suppose.’ She opens the door and beckons me in.

The house is larger inside than it looks on the outside and I step straight into a beautiful lounge painted a brilliant white with black beams and an open fireplace, embers flickering in the darkness.

‘I was just headed to bed, but I’ll make us tea.’ She turns to me as she points at a chair next to a tall floor lamp. ‘Or coffee?’

‘Tea is good,’ I say. But I don’t want tea, I just want to say what I have to say and then to leave.

She comes back a few minutes later clutching two steaming mugs. Her lounge is immaculate, as is she for someone going to bed. She smooths down her dressing gown and smiles as she lowers herself onto the gold suede sofa, coiling a hand around the arm for stability.

‘I take it this isn’t a friendly call.’

I shake my head, pleased that she isn’t pretending. We spent years playing happy families when Katy and Graham were seeing each other, and the relief that we don’t have to anymore eases my chest, but is swiftly replaced by Tara’s hard stare.

‘Why are you here? Is it because of the television programme?’

‘Yes,’ I whisper.

‘He had every right to say what he said, to defend himself.’

‘Why didn’t you come to me first, why didn’t you go to the police?’

She waves a hand, like it’s obvious. ‘The police wouldn’t have listened to us. We know how it looks. Like Graham’s trying to put the blame on someone else after so much suspicion fell on him. You know,’ she continues, ‘it had the hardest toll on him: he almost lost his job, he had to take a lot of time off work.’ She shakes her head. ‘No one understood.’

‘No, they were busy trying to find Katy.’

She drops her head and raises the mug to her lips.

‘Maybe,’ she says. ‘But it was about time Graham took control of the narrative and this programme presented that opportunity. How could he not be involved in something that has previously dragged his name through the mud? He had every right to defend himself.’

‘No one has ever accused him of anything,’ I say bluntly.

She purses her lips. ‘No,’ she says slowly, ‘but it was always there, that he could have done something to Katy.’

‘Don’t say her name,’ I hiss.

She looks startled. ‘He loved her,’ she sighs.

‘He wanted to control her and he couldn’t and that is what people saw.’

‘No.’ There’s a moment’s silence before she says. ‘What is it you came here to say, or are you saying it?’

‘I want to speak to him, but I don’t know where to find him.’

She smiles. ‘You think I’d tell you where to find him?’

‘I know he doesn’t work for the Crown Prosecution Service anymore.’

‘No, he doesn’t.’

‘Is he still in Bristol?’

She shrugs, then shakes her head. ‘He was driven out by what people thought he’d done.’ She stands, placing her mug on the table. ‘You think you’re the only one that wants to protect their child? When I heard about her affairs, her lies, and then watched my son go through hell for something he wasn’t involved in …’ She tuts softly. ‘You are not the only one who’s angry.’

‘I’m the only one who gets to be angry,’ I say, rising to join her. ‘And your son is spreading lies about Katy and now she’s the one who’s not able to defend herself, you hypocrite.’

‘Get out of my house, Grace.’

‘You look old,’ I say as I’m leaving, and I realise it’s petty and stupid and I hate myself even more for saying it when she smiles back.

‘The years do that to a person.’

I leave, closing the door so hard the ground vibrates beneath my feet. I storm back to the car, sick with fear at the damage they’ve done. I look up at the blue house, wondering why I never came here to ask questions before. It would have gotten in the way of the police investigation, but for the ten years that came after? I always thought Graham was involved, that he knew something, but this thing with Katy and her professor, I know that’s not it.

But what Tara said is true, she also had a child to protect.