The Night Away: An absolutely unputdownable psychological thriller Page 21

  Ruby gives her account again, starting with the walk around the park, buying lunch from the food stall, sitting on the bench, then stopping to look at the ducks – another detail she’s only just remembered – before returning to the flat.

  ‘Lewis rang me,’ she says. ‘If you check his phone, you’ll get the precise time.’

  ‘And you didn’t realise at any point in the day that you’d left the key in the front door?’

  ‘No. I was busy looking after Mabel and I didn’t go out after that, so why would I?’

  ‘It just seems strange, that’s all, that you forgot so completely, even when you were interviewed, and then suddenly remembered this morning.’

  ‘It was the reconstruction that triggered it,’ Ruby replies, feeling increasingly defensive. ‘I don’t see why that surprises you. That’s the whole point of them, isn’t it?’

  ‘Indeed,’ DS Smart murmurs.

  ‘I’ll never forgive myself for leaving the key in the door – never! It was totally my fault, but if I hadn’t mentioned it, nobody would know. I’d be off the hook, to some extent. I truly didn’t realise until today. I’m owning up because I want to find Mabel, that’s all I care about.’

  Smart scribbles something down. ‘Let’s see if any witnesses come forward,’ she clips.

  ‘Amber believes me; she experienced weird stuff too. She can corroborate—’

  ‘Can we stick to what you saw or heard? Or didn’t hear?’

  Ruby stares at her indignantly. ‘Why are you being like this?’

  ‘I’m not being like anything,’ DS Smart replies coolly. ‘I’m just taking your witness statement.’

  ‘Yes, but you clearly don’t believe me.’ She can feel flames of anger licking her insides. ‘And you were really hostile to Lewis just now.’

  ‘I’d like to continue with the statement, please.’

  ‘There’s no reason he should be a suspect – it’s not fair, it’s intimidation.’ Ruby stands up. ‘He’s being trolled, you know. It’s causing real problems at work. He could lose his job over this—’

  ‘Ruby, please calm down.’

  ‘No, I won’t calm down. Mabel is missing and you’re blaming the wrong people. I can see why you might suspect me, but not Lewis.’

  ‘We do have reason to include Lewis in our investigations, as it happens. And not just because he’s your boyfriend.’

  Ruby puts her hands on her hips. ‘Oh. I see. It’s because he’s got a criminal record. That’s discrimination. The situation was completely different and he only got a suspended sentence. It was self-defence anyway.’

  ‘I suggest you talk to Lewis, ask him to explain.’ DS Smart draws herself in. ‘Right. Is there anything more you’d like to include in your statement, or shall I start writing it up?’

  ‘Write it up,’ Ruby barks. ‘Shout when you want me to sign.’ She marches out of the sitting room and into the bedroom, where Lewis is perched on the edge of the bed, his sandwiches lying uneaten on the plate. His face is etched with anxiety.

  ‘I thought you were hungry,’ she says, plonking herself down next to him.

  ‘Lost my appetite.’

  Ruby lowers her voice to the quietest whisper. ‘She’s vile. Can’t stand her. She’s been aggressive right from the beginning. I’m going to complain.’

  He takes her hand. ‘Don’t. You’ll make it worse.’

  ‘She’s got it in for you. Said I needed to ask you to explain why you were a suspect. What’s that supposed to mean?’

  ‘Ruby … Ruby … please, be quiet.’

  ‘She obviously thought you hadn’t told me about the assault conviction. Like we don’t have an honest relationship.’

  He releases his grasp and leaps up, moving away from her. ‘Stop! Go back to the lounge and finish the bloody statement. Get rid of her, then we’ll talk.’

  Ruby jolts. ‘Talk about what? Lew?’

  He goes to the window, leaning heavily on the sill and taking short, rapid breaths.

  ‘What? Come on. You’re scaring me. What is it? Lewis! You have to tell me now.’

  ‘I’m Mabel’s father,’ he says.

  Chapter Thirty

  Day Seven with Mabel

  I turn to Mabel. ‘Gosh, look, it’s time for the evening news,’ I say, reaching for the remote control. ‘Would you like to watch it?’

  She gives me one of her filthy looks in reply. That’s all I get now. No smiles, no gurgles, just dumb insolence. Had Mabel been a purchase on Amazon, I’d probably have sent her back by now, accompanied by a scathing one-star review. The trouble is, when you steal someone, there’s no method for returning them if you’re not satisfied. I could leave Mabel on the neighbours’ doorstep, I suppose. She’d be safe at the Nook with Bob and Barbara Masefield and they’d become instant national heroes – they’d probably love that. But then the police would know who’d taken her and I’d be easily hunted down. Game over.

  No, I can’t take her back, no matter how badly she behaves. We’re bound together forever. I just have to be patient with her – unfortunately not one of my virtues. It’s not her fault; she just needs more time to get used to me and the new environment, to adapt to the new routines. She’s very young. Her memories of Amber will quickly fade and soon it will be as if her biological mother never existed. And once the three of us are together – please God – we’ll be like any other family. We’ll choose a new name for her and she’ll have no reason to suspect that she was ever the notorious Missing Mabel.

  I sit down in the armchair, close enough that I can bounce the edge of her chair with my foot. ‘I wonder what’s been happening in the world today,’ I say. ‘Is everyone still frantically looking for you, or have they moved on to more important things?’

  She makes a grumbling noise and I turn up the volume. The Saturday news is often disappointingly thin, feeding off the leftovers of the previous few days. We are the third item tonight, sliding down the charts towards oblivion. It’s likely that we’re still top of the bill in the local news, but nationally, interest is clearly waning. Today’s angle is the police reconstruction, which was filmed this morning.

  ‘This should be interesting,’ I say, leaning forward as they show a clip.

  There’s Lilac Park in all its glory, and there’s the babysitting sister – or somebody pretending to be her – wearing that ridiculous bobble hat. She wheels Mabel’s buggy past the duck pond and out of the gates, crossing the road and entering the front garden of the house. She unlocks the door then pushes the buggy inside.

  Oh yes, I remember it well.

  We cut to the detective leading the investigation. ‘We’re asking the public to think back not only to last Saturday, but just as importantly to the Saturday before. If you were in Lilac Park or William Morris Terrace and saw anyone, male or female, acting suspiciously on either or both dates, in fact at any time in recent weeks, please call Crimestoppers immediately. You could hold vital information that leads us to Mabel.’

  ‘Ha! They’re clueless,’ I laugh. ‘They don’t even know if I’m a man or a woman.’ I remove my foot. ‘Although one thing worries me a little.’ Mabel stops bouncing and immediately starts to complain. ‘Oh, stop making such a fuss. I’m thinking … Why did the detective mention the Saturday before? That’s new … Well, sweetie, what do you reckon? Has the dozy sister finally remembered that she left the key in the front door?’

  I close my eyes and perform my own reconstruction in my head. I was very careful; nobody saw me wriggle it out of the lock, I’m almost sure of that. And I didn’t hang around afterwards, but went straight home, walking quickly but without hurrying, keeping my head down all the way.

  But what if people come forward to say they used to see me hanging around in the park and that I disappeared after Mabel was taken? Would there be enough information to put an e-fit together? I always made sure to hide my features as much as possible, without going so far as to attract undue attention. Luckily, in winter you can get away wit
h a large hood and a scarf over your face. And the other park users were always on their phones or chatting to friends or looking after their kids. Nobody ever talked to me or even met my eye. I might as well have been wearing a cloak of invisibility.

  Even Amber, who would have recognised me in an instant, never noticed me. If only, she’ll be thinking as she watches the reconstruction. If only I’d paid more attention to the people around me. If only I hadn’t been so wrapped up in myself.

  To be fair to her – and I detest being fair to Amber – I was a very good spy. I always kept my distance, turning the other way whenever she started walking in my direction, nipping behind a tree or the café building, diving into the toilets, or even just crouching down to do up my laces. And if she had spotted me, my excuse was already prepared. Oh! You’ve caught me out. I was about to surprise you with a visit.

  I’m confident she won’t have given my name as a possible suspect. It won’t even have occurred to her. No doubt when the police asked, as they always do, whether there was anyone who might want to do her harm, she wasn’t able to think of a single person. Such a joke. Insensitive, entitled people like Amber never realise how many people hate them. They trample through the jungle of life without a thought for creatures like me who live in the undergrowth. Either they don’t notice us at all, or they pick us up, use us and then have the cheek to call it friendship. Like we’re supposed to be grateful they’ve spent any time with us at all.

  ‘Mummy thought she could have everything she wanted,’ I say to Mabel, bouncing her chair vigorously. ‘Career, marriage, family, friends, baby, happy-ever-after. But it’s all based on secrets and lies. She uses and abuses people for her own gain, doesn’t care who gets hurt as long as she gets what she wants. Oh yes, Mabel, Mummy’s been very bad. She wrecked my life, robbed me of my future, made my whole world fall apart. That’s why she had to be punished.’

  Mabel’s bottom lip trembles and she starts to cry. Again.

  ‘Sorry, did I upset you? I’m only telling the truth, you know. Your mummy’s a complete bitch. You’re far better off without her.’ I twist her out of the seat without bothering to undo the strap. ‘Anyway, enough of her. Let’s give you your bottle.’

  I carry her into the kitchen, propping her on my hip as I flick on the kettle and take a pre-prepared bottle of formula from the fridge. I put the bottle in a jug and then pour in hot water. It doesn’t take long for the milk to warm through, then I remove the bottle, drying it on a tea towel before returning to the living room. I sit back down in the armchair and put the teat into Mabel’s mouth. She sucks gratefully.

  The news has moved on to other trivial items of no interest, so I switch off the television.

  A noise rises from the silence. It sounds like a car outside. I hold my breath, screw up my face with listening. Yes, that’s the dull throb of an engine …

  ‘Did you hear that, Mabel?’ I ask, removing the half-drunk bottle to give her a break. I sit her upright on my lap and lean her forward to encourage a burp. She isn’t interested, just wants the rest of her feed. ‘Oh, okay then, greedy guts.’ I push the teat back into her mouth.

  A car is definitely idling outside the house. I’m not imagining it this time. It must be the neighbour. What’s he doing snooping around? Maybe he wants to introduce his wife to me, or invite me over for a cup of tea so he can drone on about their wonderful grandchildren. Really, this is too annoying. I am so not interested in being their friend. I stand up and carry Mabel into the hallway, peering through the frosted glass of the front door. Can’t see anything. It’s too dark.

  Why is he sitting there watching? Why not get out of the car and ring the doorbell? Fear starts to creep over my skin. What if he suspects me? The stupid old codger could ruin everything. I don’t want to leave Midsummer Cottage, even though the place is a dump. I can’t leave. This is my safe house, and more importantly, it’s where I have to wait. Wait and hope.

  The police won’t connect me to this address. Great-Aunt Dolly’s estate is still going through probate, so it doesn’t officially belong to me yet and nothing is in my name. I was frustrated by the time it was taking before, but now it’s a blessing. Even if the police were looking for me, they wouldn’t be able to trace me here.

  No, the only threat is from the Nosy Neighbour from the Nook. I feel like walking out and confronting him, telling him to mind his own f***ing business. But I know that would be a mistake. If he does suspect that I’ve got Missing Mabel, my aggression might prompt him to go straight to the police.

  Got to play it cool, mustn’t let him see I’m rattled. In fact, I should go to the other extreme. Reach out the hand of friendship. Invent some story about my partner being away on business but coming to join us next week. Be brazen. Stop hiding Mabel like she’s a guilty secret. Cut off her curls and dress her up as a baby boy.

  Except all the clothes I bought for her are pink …

  I hear the gentle slam of a car door and gasp, startling Mabel.

  ‘You mustn’t cry,’ I tell her. ‘Keep quiet, okay?’

  Silence.

  I listen for footsteps crunching up the gravel driveway, but can’t hear a sound. Turning off all the lights, I cross the hallway and go into my bedroom, which is at the front of the house. The curtains are still open. With my back against Aunt Dolly’s wardrobe, I edge my way to the window. Mabel wriggles in my arms, as if trying to escape.

  ‘Shh,’ I say. ‘Keep still. Don’t make a sound.’

  I peer around the side of the curtain. A tree is obscuring my view of the road, but I can just make out the edge of a dark-coloured vehicle parked outside the house. My breath catches in my throat. So I wasn’t imagining it. Somebody is watching me. It has to be the neighbour. There’s nobody else it could be.

  ‘This could be trouble, Mabel,’ I whisper. ‘What are we going to do?’

  At least there are no flashing blue lights. Not that the police would advertise their presence. They definitely wouldn’t hang around outside; they’d storm the bungalow, kicking the door down and bursting in, screaming at me to put down my weapon.

  ‘But you’re my weapon, aren’t you, my darling?’ I say, walking away from the window and out of the room. ‘And I’m not giving you up. I’d rather we both died in the process.’

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Day Eight without Mabel

  Amber wakes at 5 a.m. after a couple of hours of fretful sleep. She slides out of bed, careful not to wake George. He’s lying still now, but for most of the night he was tossing and turning, crying out in his dreams. She tried rubbing his back and whispering calming words in his ear, but he shoved her away. Sleeping in the same bed is so difficult at the moment. It shouldn’t be the case. This should be a time to cleave to each other, to lie locked in a needy embrace, but their bodies don’t seem to fit together any more. When Amber rested her head on his chest, his flesh felt hard and unyielding; she didn’t know where to put her arms. Her secrets lie between them like a fidgety child.

  Ruby sent the text last night. Amber doesn’t need to read it again; every word is etched on her brain. You lying, cheating bitch. This is all your fault. I hate you. I will never forgive you. You have 24 hours to tell George. If you don’t, I will.

  She dresses quietly in the darkness, feeling in the drawers for clean underwear, putting on yesterday’s jumper and jeans. The heating doesn’t kick in until six and the flat feels cold. She goes down to the first floor, holding in the emotion as she walks past the nursery. The sight of Mabel’s empty cot is unbearable and they’ve had to shut the door. Amber has made a private vow not to open it again until her daughter returns. But when will that be? How long does it take for spiders to weave their cobwebs? How many layers of dust will have settled on the surfaces? Time has become distorted. Hours seem like days, then suddenly a whole week has slipped by. This is Day Eight without Mabel.

  It’s strange how she’s only been part of their lives for a few months and yet a future without her is impossi
ble to contemplate – even though her very existence has always been problematic. She is the product of a terrible but miraculous mistake; a tiny time bomb that started ticking from the moment of her conception. Deep down, Amber always knew she wouldn’t get away with it, that some day the truth would explode, potentially destroying the happiness she’d fought so hard to achieve. She also knew that one day she would have to pay for Mabel. She just never imagined the price would be the child herself.

  She puts on her winter coat and boots, then grabs her keys and leaves the flat. Thankfully, it’s too early for the media, and apart from the ribbons tied around every front gate and tree trunk, the street looks its normal, quiet self.

  Walking along the icy pavement in the footsteps of the abductor, Amber imagines holding Mabel just as they did, tucked inside their coat. She can sense the weight and warmth of her daughter now, pressed against her chest. Mabel snuggles down against the cold, her little heart beating furiously.

  Who carried her away that night? George still thinks it was Lewis. He hasn’t bought the key-in-the-door story, even though Amber can corroborate it, and when he finds out that Lewis is Mabel’s biological father, he’ll have no doubt at all. The police still seem to think Lewis and Ruby are guilty, although they can’t prove it yet. Amber has to admit, it does make a grim, logical sense, but she refuses to believe it because it would mean that Mabel is dead.

  Besides, Lewis didn’t know he was definitely the father until the police confirmed it a couple of days ago. Amber didn’t know either, not for sure. Of course, she had a suspicion – a strong suspicion – but she didn’t share it with Lewis. They’ve avoided each other since that night and not spoken at all privately. When Mabel was born, Amber was grateful to him for showing no interest, for making excuses not to babysit, for standing as far away from Mabel as possible for the family photo. When the picture arrived as her mother’s Christmas card, Amber instantly spotted that father and daughter had the same heart-shaped face. She tore the card up, telling George the photo made her look fat. But if Mabel is returned, who knows what new similarities will reveal themselves as she grows up?