The Night Away: An absolutely unputdownable psychological thriller Page 13

  Amber sits on the edge of the bed and sobs. It was very wrong to accuse Ruby – her sister’s shocked and horrified expression will be forever printed on her memory. Worse than that, she spoke about Mabel as if she were dead. It’s wicked even to contemplate the possibility that she’s not alive. Wicked and unforgivable. Even if Mabel doesn’t come home, Amber must never get to the stage of thinking about her in the past tense.

  It was a horrible encounter, exactly what she was trying to avoid. She’s deeply angry with Ruby, but despite what George thinks, she knows her sister would never hurt Mabel. It’s true that she got into a lot of trouble as a child and tried to wriggle her way out of it, but as she grew up, she settled down. She’s remained careless and chaotic, always picking up new projects and never finishing them, but there’s no harm in her. She’s her own worst enemy, not other people’s.

  Amber swallows down her guilt. She shouldn’t have lashed out like that. It was only because she’s under so much strain and Ruby accused her of lying about Gaia Hall. Attack has always been Amber’s first line of defence.

  But Ruby knows she has secrets, and that’s very worrying. She doesn’t know what they are exactly, just that they exist. If she keeps digging around, if she tells George … well, it could send him over the edge. Aren’t they all suffering enough?

  She dries her eyes with a tissue and throws it in the direction of the bin. It’s bad tactics to make an enemy of Ruby. Unfortunately, it’s too late to call her back and apologise. She fled the house immediately, straight into the pack of media hyenas prowling around the driveway. They will have sniffed that she was horribly upset. Amber hopes she didn’t talk to them.

  Amber and George have been warned about the tabloids. To begin with, Sally said, the media will be on their side in the search for Mabel, full of sympathy for their plight. But one false step and they’ll turn against them. Amber remembers what happened to the parents of Madeleine McCann, how they were vilified for leaving their children unsupervised, even accused of killing Madeleine themselves. Apparently the press is already making comparisons with the case – the girls’ names starting with the same letter doesn’t help. One of tomorrow’s headlines is apparently First Maddy, Now Mabel. Amber shudders. It’s too much, way too much – arguing with Ruby, being besieged by the press; all it does is distract everyone from finding the real culprit.

  They’ve been advised not to read any papers, not even the respectable ones, and Amber is going to take that advice. The thought that strangers will be talking about her over the breakfast table or by the office water cooler is incredibly upsetting. Particularly because it’s something she’s done herself in the past – judging others as a way of making conversation. She’ll never do that again. When Mabel’s found, she’s going to change completely, become a better mother.

  She puts her hands together and promises the God she’s never believed in that she’ll never complain again about the sleepless nights, the drudgery of washing and making up bottles and changing nappies, the lack of adult company, the boredom, the awful aching loneliness. If Mabel is returned safely, she will never once moan when George has to work late; or argue about whose turn it is to give her a bath. The sound of her daughter waking at dawn will bring her joy, not irritation. She will push the buggy around the park with a smile on her face and a song in her heart.

  There’s a knock on the door.

  ‘Who is it?’

  ‘Sally. Can you talk?’

  ‘Er – yes. I’ll come down.’ Amber stands up and goes to the mirror, frowning at her haggard looks. No doubt Sally wants to know what went on between her and Ruby – it could be awkward. As she descends the stairs, she tries to work out something believable to say.

  But the family liaison officer isn’t interested in what just happened in the bedroom. There’s been a small development, she says.

  ‘What kind of development? Good or bad?’ Amber feels her pulse rate quicken.

  Sally doesn’t reply, but leads her into the lounge, where her husband and mother are already seated. Their faces are twitching with anxiety. Amber sits next to George on the sofa. He reaches out and grasps her hand.

  ‘You okay?’ he whispers. She nods, although she isn’t okay. Not a bit of it.

  Sally takes the other armchair. ‘First of all, DI Benedict wants me to tell you that he thought the press conference went extremely well. You were both amazing, thank you, I know how hard it must have been. The good news is, we’ve had a huge response from the general public and officers are analysing the data right now. I’m afraid these cases often generate a lot of irrelevant, even mischievous responses, so everything needs carefully sifting through. But one particular thing has come to light.’

  ‘Has a witness come forward?’ asks Vicky, unable to contain herself a second longer.

  ‘Not exactly. It’s more a piece of intelligence.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  Sally takes a breath. ‘We’ve been given a name.’

  Amber’s stomach flips. ‘What name? Who?’

  ‘Just tell us,’ says George impatiently.

  Sally glances down at her notes. ‘Does Sonya Garrick mean anything to you?’

  ‘Hmm … There’s only one Sonya I can think of,’ says Amber. ‘She came to the antenatal class a few times.’

  ‘Yes, that’s Sonya Garrick. A friend of yours, Polly McQueen, told us about her.’

  Amber wrinkles her nose. She wouldn’t exactly call Polly a friend …

  Sally looks at her searchingly. ‘How well do you know Sonya?’

  Amber huffs. ‘Hardly at all. George knows her from the gym where he works.’

  ‘Used to,’ he replies quickly. ‘She stopped going when she got pregnant. I only knew her slightly – she wasn’t a client.’

  Sally makes a quick note. ‘Has she ever visited you at William Morris Terrace?’

  ‘No,’ says Amber. ‘Never. I’d be surprised if she knows where I live. I only met her a couple of times, months ago. I probably wouldn’t recognise her any more.’ The cogs in her brain start to turn. ‘Why did Polly … I mean, do you think Sonya might have something to do with … with Mabel’s disappearance?’

  ‘Apparently she lost a baby last year, quite late on in her pregnancy,’ Sally explains. ‘Your friend says she took it extremely badly, and after that started behaving strangely. Do you know about this?’

  Amber pulls a face. ‘Yes, sort of. I mean, I know she had a miscarriage, but as for behaving strangely … I wouldn’t necessarily trust …’ She pauses, not sure how to explain. ‘Polly has a tendency to hijack other people’s dramas. She over-empathises, makes it all about her.’

  Sally nods. ‘Okay, that’s useful to know. She’s the one behind the lilac ribbons, by the way.’

  George releases Amber’s hand and leans right forward. ‘Sod the bloody ribbons. Can I get this straight? The police think Sonya took Mabel?’

  ‘No, no, there’s no evidence for that yet; it’s just one of many avenues we’re exploring. My boss wants to know if Sonya has ever visited you, or babysat Mabel, or – importantly – if you’ve ever had any problems with her.’

  ‘No,’ says Amber definitely.

  ‘Okay. Thanks.’ Sally makes another note.

  Amber is surprised to find that the possibility that Sonya is the abductor is making her feel better, rather than worse. She knows that women who’ve lost babies can sometimes go a bit mad and steal other people’s, usually from maternity hospitals but also from outside shops and other public spaces. Why not from their own home? She’s read true-life accounts in tacky magazines at the hairdresser’s. The stories are heartbreaking but they always have happy endings.

  ‘Sonya … Sonya,’ she repeats. ‘I didn’t make the connection before, but yes, it makes sense.’

  ‘You’ve got to find her. Like now.’ George jabs with his finger. ‘We shouldn’t be sitting here talking about it; you should be getting a warrant for her arrest, putting out an all-ports alert, s
plashing her face all over the internet.’

  ‘We’re not saying Sonya has definitely got Mabel,’ Sally replies coolly. ‘It’s only a possibility at this stage. If she has got her, the last thing we want to do is let her know we’re looking for her. We don’t want her to panic and harm her. Which means it’s really important – for Mabel’s sake – that you don’t tell anyone about this. And I mean anyone.’

  ‘Okay, okay,’ agrees George. ‘As long as you get on with finding her. We’ve lost enough time as it is.’

  ‘We’re already working on tracing her. As soon as there’s any news, you’ll be the first to know.’ Sally gets up and pops her notebook into her bag. ‘Right. I’m going to the station now to give the boss an update. I’ll be back in the morning. In the meantime, try to rest.’

  ‘Thanks.’ George looks abashed. ‘Sorry to shout, I just—’

  ‘It’s fine. See you tomorrow.’ She gives them a sympathetic smile and leaves the room.

  As soon as she’s gone, George covers his face with his hands. ‘Sonya. Bloody Sonya. Why didn’t we think of her before? It was staring us in the face. That headcase.’

  ‘Sounds like you know her better than I do,’ says Amber, looking at his slumped figure. A chill starts to creep up her back.

  He shakes his head. ‘Not really.’

  ‘Why did you call her a headcase?’

  ‘She had a bit of a reputation at the gym, that’s all.’

  ‘What for?’

  He thinks about it. ‘For being weird.’

  ‘Weird? In what way?’

  ‘You know, hitting on guys, including some of the married ones. She was a menace, if you must know.’

  He’s hiding something, she can see it in his body language. ‘Did she hit on you?’

  ‘A bit.’

  She stiffens. ‘You never told me that before.’

  ‘There was nothing to tell. I could see she was trouble from the off – I gave her a wide berth.’ He removes his hands and sits up straighter. ‘To be honest, I think it was a baby she was after more than a relationship.’

  Amber’s mind skips back briefly, remembering how emotionally painful it was trying to conceive. The money she spent on pointless tests when her period wasn’t even late. How oversensitive she was to signs of possible pregnancy – fatigue, tender breasts, a strange taste in the mouth – and how disappointed she was when they turned out to be figments of her imagination. Then, just as she was about to give up, the overwhelming sense of achievement when she finally got a positive result, as if she’d just climbed Everest in her bare feet and was standing on top of the world. Poor Sonya …

  ‘No wonder she was devastated when she lost it,’ she says.

  ‘I guess so.’

  ‘Do you know who the father was?’

  ‘No, but several of the guys were shitting themselves … She never let on, not that I know of.’

  ‘Well I hope it is Sonya who’s got Mabel,’ Amber says.

  George turns to her, visibly shocked. ‘Why? The woman’s deranged!’

  ‘Because she wants to be a mum. She’ll be looking after her, loving her, treating like she’s her own baby.’

  ‘She’d better be,’ George says bitterly. ‘Or I’ll wring her bloody neck.’

  Chapter Twenty

  Day Three without Mabel

  Amber feels too alive, too much in the moment; the seconds stab at her, even during the few hours she manages to sleep. What wouldn’t she give to rewind to last Friday afternoon and reset the clock? She lies in bed, remembering how it felt to drive away from number 74, leaving Mabel in Ruby’s charge. It was as if she’d been at the bottom of the sea, weighted down with rocks of responsibility. Suddenly the weights were lifted and she felt herself rising to the surface, bobbing above the water and gulping in breaths of air. Now guilt is pushing her down again, the pressure heavier than before. There’s a hard lump in her chest where her heart should be.

  ‘George?’ She shakes him awake. ‘George …’

  His eyes open, widening with hope. ‘Wh … wha … What is it? Have they found her?’

  ‘No … I mean, I don’t know. I need to talk to you.’

  ‘Okay …’ He leans across to look at the time on his phone. ‘God, Amber, it’s the middle of the night.’ His head hits the pillow again.

  ‘I don’t know how you can sleep at all,’ she says ruefully. ‘I’ve been awake for hours.’

  ‘Couldn’t help it; my body just gave in … Sorry.’ He tries to rouse himself. ‘You okay?’

  She huffs. ‘Of course not. My brain’s on high alert. I’m constantly listening out for her, as if she’s napping in the next room. Then I realise she’s not there and … What if we never hear her little voice again?’

  ‘Don’t say that.’

  ‘I can’t stop thinking about her, every single second; it’s driving me crazy. But the thing is, I don’t want to stop.’

  He feels around under the covers for her hand and squeezes it tightly. ‘I understand, I’m the same.’

  ‘It sounds weird, but I actually hope Sonya’s got her.’

  ‘Hmm,’ he says, unconvinced. ‘The police will track her down, they always do. Nobody can hide for long these days. Eventually, she’ll have to use her phone or buy something and—’

  Amber releases his hand and sits up. ‘George! I’ve just remembered. Polly said Sonya had gone off the radar; you know, shut down all her social media accounts, stopped answering the phone. The girls thought she was having a breakdown, but … Oh God, do you think she might have been planning the abduction for weeks?’

  ‘I, er … I don’t know.’ He wrinkles his nose. ‘Possibly.’

  ‘I think the baby she lost was a little girl, but Polly and Hanima also had girls. So why pick me?’

  ‘Did you fall out with her?’

  ‘No. Not at all, I didn’t really know her. After the miscarriage, everyone else in our group went round to “support her”.’ She makes quotation marks in the air. ‘They took cakes and flowers and stuff. I thought it was grief-bombing, so I didn’t go.’

  He considers. ‘Maybe she resented you for that.’

  ‘I can’t think why. I was trying to be sensitive. I didn’t want to turn up there with my enormous tummy sticking out.’

  ‘You never know how other people are going to react. Maybe she thought you didn’t care. Maybe she wanted to take revenge to show you how it felt.’

  Polly’s words at the last meet-up suddenly crash into her head. You don’t understand what it’s like to lose a child. Could it be true that Sonya was angry with her? Was that her motivation for taking Mabel? And if so, does it mean that she, Amber, is once again to blame?

  It’s not even 8 a.m., but the media are already milling around outside. Vicky, who is peering through a gap in the bedroom curtains, announces that there are more of them today. She recognises one of the journalists from the telly and comments on his attractiveness. Amber nearly hits her when she says this, but George lays a restraining hand on her arm and suggests they get dressed and go downstairs.

  ‘Try to eat,’ he says, guiding her into the kitchen. He puts the kettle on and rummages in the bread bin. ‘Toast?’

  ‘I hate them,’ she says. ‘They’re disgusting, the lowest of the low. They don’t care about us or what we’re going through; they don’t even care about Mabel. All they want is a juicy story.’

  He puts two slices on and pops some tea bags into the pot. ‘Ignore them, forget they’re there.’

  ‘How can I? It’s like there’s a party going on outside. I’ve a good mind to—’

  ‘If you open the door and give them a mouthful, it’ll be all over the front pages. Sally said there was already a load of negative stuff about us on social media; don’t make it worse.’

  She puts her hands around the side of her head and pulls at her hair until it hurts. ‘I don’t care what they say about us,’ she cries. ‘All I want is Mabel back.’

  The doorbell rings
. ‘It’s okay, it’s only Sally,’ Vicky calls out. ‘I’ll get it.’

  There’s a burst of noise as she opens the front door. Amber and George wait until Sally is safely inside before going into the hallway to meet her.

  ‘God, they drive me insane,’ Sally says, catching her breath.

  George steps forward. ‘Any news?’

  ‘Yes and no.’ She removes her coat, giving it to Vicky to hang up. ‘Shall we go in the conservatory, where it’s quiet?’

  ‘Okay,’ says Amber.

  Sally turns to Vicky. ‘I didn’t manage a cup of tea this morning – I’m gasping. Would you mind?’

  A flash of disappointment crosses Vicky’s face as she realises that she’s been deftly excluded from the conversation.

  ‘White, no sugar, yes?’

  ‘You got it.’

  The sun lounge is cold and smells slightly damp. They enter and take what have become their normal places on the wicker furniture set. Amber nervously waits for Sally to finish reading a text.

  ‘Sorry about that,’ she says, putting the phone in her pocket.

  George paces about. ‘Well? What’s happening? Have you found Sonya?’

  ‘We managed to obtain her address via NHS records and made a visit to the flat last night.’

  ‘And?’

  ‘She wasn’t there. Officers waited all night but she didn’t turn up.’

  ‘What does that mean?’ says George.

  ‘We don’t know yet. She could have gone away for a few days, or moved out.’

  ‘What did the neighbours say?’

  ‘Nobody seems to know much about her. She lives on her own, no boyfriend as far as anyone can tell. She hasn’t been seen for a while, but that doesn’t necessarily mean anything. Apparently people in the block go for weeks without seeing each other.’

  ‘If she’s not at home, that could mean she’s taken Mabel somewhere else,’ says Amber. ‘She could have gone into hiding.’

  ‘Possibly. It’s too early to draw conclusions. We’re talking to her mobile provider and checking her bank records, credit cards, cashpoint use, all that. It shouldn’t take too long to track her down.’