The Replacement, page 11
I remember a man I had talked to when his partner disappeared. She had gone out shopping and never come home. Her car was still in a multistorey car park. He’d gone down the police report route, but CCTV had her walking away from a cashpoint, down an alleyway and she was never seen again. Her bank cards were not used, and she did not have her passport with her.
He was completely devastated. I could see both sides. From the police side, she had simply walked away into a new life. She never appeared at the other side of the alleyway and there were no clear images of the people in the cars passing through at that time, or their registration numbers. There was no abduction or struggle. No one had reported seeing a woman being bundled into a vehicle, and there were plenty of people about and no one saw anything unusual.
He was convinced she had been taken. He was in tears when we met at the station and was sure that she could never have left him. He told me that everything was normal, and she kissed him before she left. She took nothing except her handbag and a shopping bag. The only difference was that she was wearing her best coat. He told me through deep sobs that he had asked her why she was wearing it and she had said, ‘Why not? You never know what will happen tomorrow.’ He stressed she had been smiling through the words and he never imagined that it would be the last time they spoke.
I checked the files later. There was still no trace of her. Nothing at all.
Like Jem. There is no obvious crime. There’s an abandoned car. There is nobody. Taking my own emotions out of the situation, I realise that Bekah Bradley’s visit was probably a routine “when did you last see her” for the files. Because of the message. It goes round and round, but every time it lands on the message. Help.
But the note. I saw it with my own eyes. It was definitely Jem’s language and in her handwriting. He didn’t look like he was lying when he showed it to me. I snort to myself. What do I know about Daniel lying? I was oblivious, and I probably still am. I turn other explanations over in my mind. Kidnapping and a ransom from rich parents. Yet no appeal for anything. An accident. Yet no investigation. Lisa said it was being treated as a missing person enquiry.
Even if Daniel isn’t behind this, he has still brought that woman home and slept with her while Jem is a police matter. He seemed pretty certain she wasn’t coming home. I wait for the “benefit of the doubt” feeling to descend on me, as it usually does when I suspect Daniel of something. But it doesn’t. And that feels good.
I shower and get ready for my date with Tim. I suddenly feel a little nervous. Like I pushed him to do something he wasn’t ready for. But I hear his car and I look out of the window. Too late now. And it might do me good. He’s talking on his phone. He is very sexy, I tell myself. This can be a distraction; an opportunity to think. I need the space and I can usually rely on Tim to provide it.
He’s out of his car now and leaning over the bonnet, stretching. Looking up at the house and nodding slightly. I watch him and I blink into the daylight. He is very different from Daniel. More indie. More laid-back. He always looks like he might have just finished work.
I pull on my jacket and catch sight of myself in the mirror. I immediately think of Jem. Jem. But I push the thoughts away and hurry downstairs. Tim has walked to the end of the short gravel path.
‘Hello!’ I call out to him, and he turns and grins.
‘Hiya. Wow. You look great.’
For a split second, the world goes into slow motion as our eyes meet. I feel guilty that I am happy in the middle of all this, but today is about escape. About me and Tim. The other night was probably a misunderstanding. A case of me not knowing the rules of dating now I’ve been out of the game for so long. Today seems different. He is smiling back at me.
‘Thanks. So do you.’ I look at the floor. ‘Thanks for this, Tim, and the flowers.’
He laughs loudly. ‘You psychic or something?’
I stare at him. He reaches into the car and pulls out a bouquet of sunflowers and greenery. He hands them to me and I laugh.
‘More? Oh, thank you. Shall we take them with us?’
He looks puzzled but nods. ‘If you want. I’ve got some more surprises. Just you wait!’
We laugh and get in the car. I cover his hand with mine.
‘Are you sure about this? We can just as easily stay here.’
He smiles at me. ‘What, now I’ve gone to all this trouble? Oh no, you will have dinner. I’ve got shares in Marks & Spencer after this afternoon.’ He looks into my eyes. ‘You will stay over, won’t you?’
My heart races. I hadn’t even thought about it.
‘Oh. I didn’t bring a bag.’
He laughs. ‘Well, still time to get one.’
For the first time in ages, I am excited. I rush into the house and throw some underwear and an animal print negligee into a bag. I already keep a make-up and wash bag ready for our hotel excursions, and this is hardly different. But this is a real step forward for us. Tim is keen and he’s made an effort. I catch sight of myself in the mirror and I can’t help but smile.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
I wind the window down and let the cool breeze hit my face. The radio is on, and Tim is driving fast through town and over the ring road. Yes. This is what I need. Some time away to think. Something different. I watch the trees whiz by, and the red-brick terraced houses turn to the more traditional stone-built cottages as we head to the outskirts of town.
The city is behind us, and I suddenly feel freer. I watch for “for sale” signs and fantasise about coming to live out of town. I can work from anywhere and there is a train line straight through connecting to the city. I smile to myself.
I wasn’t sure if we were at the comfortable silence stage, but Tim drives silently until we reach the quieter roads. Then he smiles too.
‘Happy?’
I turn to look at him. His eyes match his smile.
‘Yes. Yes, I’m happy. Just thinking what it would be like to live out here.’
He nods to himself. ‘Nice. Pricey, though. Are you selling up?’
I laugh. ‘I won’t have much choice, eventually. My ex…’
He holds up his hand. ‘Been there, done that. Got the T-shirt. ’Scept we had no kids. Surely you can keep it till–’
I interrupt. ‘Yeah, but I can’t afford it. And I want a clean break.’ I toy with the idea of telling Tim about Jem. No. This is meant to be fun. Not about my problems. ‘Anyway, I’m ready to start again now.’
He puts his hand on my leg. ‘I thought you had already. We’ve been seeing each other for a while now.’
I take the prompt. ‘Yeah. I am, but I’d like to, well, you know. Make it a thing.’
He moves his hand onto the gearstick, but he’s still smiling. My heart is beating really fast, and I feel my face flush. But he doesn’t miss a beat.
‘Would you? What sort of thing?’
It’s playful. He’s teasing. I play the game.
‘You know, seeing each other. An item.’
He laughs. ‘It would be easier if you got your own place, for sure. I always feel… I don’t know. The kids. It’s like it’s their house.’
I want to tell him they will always come first. That it’s their home, not their house. But I keep it low.
‘Well, maybe when I move it will feel more like ours.’
I know I am pushing this. We’ve never discussed anything serious, let alone something shared. But he laughs loudly.
‘Aw, baby. That’s nice. But you’ll have to get that front window sorted before it’s valued.’
My mood dips. ‘What about the front window?’ I hear it shoot from my mouth, sharp as a knife and loud.
He winces. ‘Jesus, Lauren. All right. I was just saying…’
I am shouting at him. ‘The window, Tim. What was wrong with it?’
He slows down on the empty road and turns the radio down.
‘It looked like someone had jemmy’d it. Wasn’t there the other day. All scratched up. I saw it when I walked up the front. On the gravel.’
I am shaking. I need to go home.
‘Stop the car. Why didn’t you say this before we left?’
He speeds up.
‘It was just some scratches. It’ll fix. What the hell…’
He turns the radio up full blast. I feel tears sting. This wasn’t a good idea. I need to go home, but he’s driving fast now. I turn away from him and we spend the rest of the short journey in silence. By the time we reach some neat apartments beside a stream, I have calmed down a little. He gets out of the car, and I think at first he’s going to go in alone, but he comes around and opens the door.
‘There you are, milady.’
The smile is back. He sweeps his arm and I get out and smile back. We are here now, and I’ll just have to make the most of it. But as I step out of the car and he fumbles for his key card, I can’t help but think about the window and the footprints.
Tim goes to the boot and starts to get the bags, and I open my phone. I scroll through my Facebook feed and then I see a message. My phone rings and I turn away from him. It’s Lisa. I cancel and I’m halfway to the apartment when a message pings.
Lauren. Answer the phone. It’s important.
I touch Tim’s arm. ‘I need to make a quick call, babe, nothing serious.’
He smiles. ‘Inside or…’ He gestures around him, the views are breath-taking. I gauge his expression. He is fine. Smiling. Happy. ‘You go ahead. It’ll give me chance to do a last tidy.’
He’s laughing as he goes inside. I call her back. She answers before it’s rung properly.
‘Mate, I just wanted to tell you they’ve changed it. The Jem thing. They’ve changed it to abduction.’
I am silent. I replay the scene in my mind. Jem’s car at the bridge. Her not falling over or wandering into the forest. No. In this scene she is dragged from the car and… I blink it away.
‘Abduction?’
She is breathless. ‘Her parents. They’re going to do an appeal. But it doesn’t look good.’ We are both silent for a long moment. She says exactly what I am feeling. ‘I feel so bad. All those jokes. She could be dead, Lauren. Dead.’ I nod into my phone. She continues. ‘Where are you, anyway?’
My children’s faces flash through my mind. They are going to hear about this now. Especially if Jem’s parents do a public appeal.
‘I’m at Tim’s.’
I look at the building behind me. I have no idea where I am, really. I know I am somewhere about ten miles from home. Possibly. There are sheep in the field behind us, and I know the hills in front of us are the Pennines.
She sighs. ‘My God. Daniel will be devastated.’
Daniel and the dark-haired woman flash through my mind. His lips on her neck, him whispering to her. Devastated.
‘Mmm. Look, I’ll be back in the morning. Send me anything you have on this.’
‘I will. It’s mostly local reporting. I didn’t know she was an heiress, did you?’
I pause and check myself. I even doubt Lisa now. Wondering if Bekah Bradley has asked her to find out what I know.
‘No. Not really. Daniel said something about her parents being loaded. But no.’
I hear my phone ping multiple times.
‘There you go. All the links to the story. I didn’t find out much more from my colleagues. But something must have changed.’
‘Unless it’s pressure from the parents?’
She sighs again. ‘I don’t know. It feels like it’s been ramped up, somehow. I’m really worried. About you too. Are you okay?’
Tears threaten again. I’m not okay. Far from it. It strikes me I am with Tim when I should be at home. He appears behind me. ‘Everything okay? Tea or coffee?’
My heart melts. He says it like we are an old married couple. Maybe I should be here. With him. A new life. I smile anyway.
‘I’m fine. Lisa, I’ll speak to you tomorrow.’
I am itching to read the reports, but I can’t. I laugh in all the right places, but the story on Jem is burning into me. I toy again with the idea of telling Tim all about it, but he is standing over two steaks sizzling in a pan telling me about his sister and brother.
He has gone to a lot of trouble. The wine is excellent. His place is really lovely – very man cave. All greys and blacks with a flash of red here and there. Completely at odds with how he dresses. He is a jeans and shirt man.
The table is a complete contrast to the apartment. He’s set out a candelabra and he dims the lights and lights the candles. It immediately transforms the clinical apartment into something much more romantic. I relax. This reminds me of an old black-and-white film where dinner for two is elegantly arranged in the couple’s home, for the sole purpose of enjoying each other’s company. I’ve been running to catch up with myself for so long I’d forgotten how to relax.
He serves a first course of French onion soup and rustic bread. He rests the steak and we laugh about the barman in the last hotel we stayed at. I sip my wine and I am falling in love with Tim. I suspected it before but now I know.
I know that feeling. I know the fear and the excitement. It feels like an opportunity and a betrayal all at the same time. And the more he smiles and touches my hand, the more sure I am. This is different from the coffee shops and the hotels. Different from my house – and now he’s told me why, I understand. This is real. This is us.
He serves the steak with a dressed salad – how I always order it in the hotel. He has paid attention to what I like. He has bought in a particular mustard I like and he fetches more bread.
‘Of course, I don’t cook like this for myself. So don’t get used to it. I’m an egg, chips and beans man.’
I laugh. ‘That would have been fine. But this is… wonderful.’
I lean across and kiss him. He returns it and then pulls back.
‘I really want this to work, Laur. That’s why I was saying about taking it slow. I don’t want anything to spoil it.’
I nod and kiss him again. I suddenly get it. What this is. It’s not about Daniel or even my children. It’s about us. He is interested in me. It’s been so long since this happened. So long. I can’t remember the last time someone was interested in me, just for myself. It feels unfamiliar and makes me a little self-conscious. But valued.
‘Let’s take one night at a time, then. Suits me.’
When we get to the bedroom, he pulls me to him and we make love. It’s tender and gentle and everything I could ask for. Yet when he is asleep and his breathing is even, I open the bedroom door and pad along the long landing to the bathroom, clutching my phone. I go inside and lock the door.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
The light of my phone glows in the darkness, and I open Lisa’s messages. I read them one by one until I come to the last one. All the others are breaking news short articles with basic details. But this one is different. I read on.
The article spells out that Jem’s parents are rich. She is an only child. There is a photo of her now, one that I recognise from Daniel’s lounge with him and the kids snipped out. And there’s a photograph of her as a child. It had never struck me she is someone’s daughter, a child, like Angel. I suddenly feel a deep grief. Her poor mother. And father.
I read on. Jem has a degree in environmental science. And she worked at the Calais Jungle for two years with refugees, completely against her parents’ wishes. I swallow hard. The people she worked with described her as a beautiful person, inside and out. A school friend is quoted as saying that Jem is a very charitable woman who would never harm a hair on anyone’s head.
My jealousy reflex screams that she did. She harmed me. She stole my husband. But I wonder now how much stealing there was. What he told her. If he said it was over and we were only married in name. Only living together because of the kids. It would certainly make sense of how she acted that day when I caught them, standing in my kitchen close to my husband.
It is all so sad. The final paragraph pushes me to the limit of my sanity.
Jem Carter’s partner, Daniel Wade, refused to comment. Jem is stepmother to Daniel’s children, who live with them. Angel (9) and Ben (11) are thought to be staying with relatives. In a police statement it was announced Daniel Wade is helping police with their enquiries.
I scroll up the message app and look at Jem’s text again. What had he done? Why was she asking for help? And where is she now? The questions reel in my brain. I close down the messenger app and dim the light on my phone.
Here in the dark, miles and miles away from home, it feels safe to think about what could have happened. In the middle of my busy life, it’s hard to think straight. It’s hard to admit to myself that the man who told me he loved me, then told me he loved Jem, is just a lowlife. I sit on the ornate plastic toilet seat and blink into the darkness. It seems impossible that Daniel could have arranged all this single-handedly. But it also seemed impossible that he could be a cheating bastard and have bedded so many women while we were married. And after that too, seemingly.
Even now, I cannot imagine him harming her. I push my imagination to its limits and try to think where he would have taken her. Not their house. No. I try to remember anywhere the kids had mentioned, even the walks we used to go on. None of it means anything because I am starting to realise I never knew Daniel. I don’t know this man who can so easily separate out sections of his life. Who can lie to his children and his mother – even though she will know some of his wrongdoings instinctively, I can tell by her constant defensiveness. But I never knew him.
I do know what “helping with enquiries” means, though. I picture him, sitting in front of Bekah Bradley, his poker face set, and a lie on his lips. They are lining up their evidence and now they have sifted through anyone who knows Jem or might have a motive they are picking off the likely subjects. They wouldn’t have taken him in if they didn’t have a reason.
