The Girl You Gave Away: An absolutely gripping psychological thriller Read online

  The encounter with Asha had shocked me to the core. I’d loved her like a sister but it turned out she wasn’t even my friend. Had she always felt like this about me, or had our relationship been slowly crumbling over the years? I knew that she’d sometimes felt uncomfortable about keeping my secrets, but I’d never suspected her loyalty. We’d always been the Girls, together forever; nothing and nobody would ever pull us apart.

  As I drove home that afternoon, I went back over our history, seeing it from a different angle. Asha had always been the most stable of the three of us. I couldn’t remember a single occasion when she’d asked for emotional support. Holly had cried on my shoulder numerous times, but Asha had never betrayed any fragility. That didn’t necessarily mean that she’d gone through life without a problem, but it was an indicator of the imbalance in our friendship.

  She had protected me, listened to me, lied for me, but what had I done for her? I’d been a main player in her social life, I’d helped put together a business plan for her dental practice, I’d been a good ‘auntie’ to her children and I’d always remembered her birthday. But nothing had put me in any moral dilemma, or conflicted with my loyalty to Tom. My love for Asha had never been tested. I was prepared to walk through fire for her, but the truth was, she’d never asked.

  No amount of analysing was going to fix things. Our friendship was over. I understood her reasons for blowing my life up; what puzzled me was why it had taken her so long to act. She’d always had the power to end the lies – all it would have taken was a phone call to Tom – but she’d held back. Maybe, on some level, she’d still needed me, despite my faults. Asha was very close to her extended family, but she didn’t have a wide circle of friends. It was basically just me and Holly. And what had she meant when she said Holly had also been leading a double life? That was news to me. I was aware she’d had a few disastrous flings while she was married to her oaf of a husband, but that was ancient history.

  It all felt like too much. My brain was overloaded, its processor in danger of crashing. One step at a time, I told myself as I pulled onto the driveway. There was Jade to confront now. I didn’t want to lose her, but if she didn’t come clean about who she was protecting, there was no point in continuing. Dear God, I’d had enough of lies. They made very poor foundations for relationships – I’d learned that, if nothing else.

  I turned off the engine but remained in the car, my hands still on the steering wheel as I inhaled deeply. This was turning out to be a day of truth-telling, and although it scared me, it also felt good, like I was lancing a boil that had been festering way too long.

  It was mid-afternoon, and the school day was about to end. I was expecting Chloe to rush home immediately, which meant I only had about half an hour to talk in private with Jade. My pulse was galloping as I unlocked the front door and stepped into the house. I needed to calm down, to remember that this was my territory. I would speak quietly and gently to her – I wouldn’t lose my temper. We would strike a deal. If she helped me get the blackmail money back, I would forgive her and not contact the police. She had nothing to fear. We were adult human beings and together we would sort it out.

  But my pep talk to myself didn’t seem to be working. As I took off my jacket and shoes, I could feel my heart pounding in my chest. I called out Jade’s name, but my voice was far too weedy to be heard upstairs, which was where I assumed she was.

  I walked into the kitchen, expecting to see some signs of activity, but all the breakfast things were still out and the dirty crockery was still on the table. I thought Jade must have changed her mind about waiting in for us and gone straight home. Relief flooded through me, followed by a trickle of disappointment. It was liking working myself up for an unpleasant but necessary procedure at the doctor’s and then having it cancelled.

  There were no signs of Jade’s presence in the sitting room either. I went back to the hallway and climbed the stairs, calling out her name again, even though I was pretty certain she wasn’t there. I went into the guest room just to be sure. The duvet was pulled back and a damp bath towel was lying on the carpet. Judging by the small pile of crumpled tissues next to the bed, she’d been crying in the night.

  For some reason this hit me hard, and I sank down onto the mattress, overwhelmed with sadness. Why had she left? Perhaps she’d felt unwanted, or guilty because her arrival had caused so much trouble. I should have made her feel more welcome, I thought. Should have tried to track her down myself, rather than leaving it to Chloe. And yet …

  The threads of our relationship were twisted and knotted; how would I ever untangle them? I felt infinitely sorry for my daughter and wanted to make up for all my mistakes. Then again, I hated being tricked and wanted my money back. I felt compelled to confront her, but if that meant losing her again, would it be worth it? Would it be right? Jade claimed she’d had a good adoption, but she still seemed very fragile. There was a gap in her life, she said, that only her birth mum could fill. With everyone else deserting me, my daughters could be all I had left.

  I was wound up like a clockwork toy, but stuck, unable to move. I couldn’t talk to Jade because she’d disappeared and I had no way of getting in touch with her. Standing up, I left the room. Chloe would be home soon. She would be upset to discover that Jade wasn’t here, and I’d probably get the blame.

  Needing a lie-down, I went into my bedroom. When I saw the mess, my immediate reaction was one of confusion. I couldn’t remember removing everything from the wardrobe and throwing it on the bed. Had we been burgled? After a couple of seconds, the truth hit home. Jade had raided my belongings. What had she been looking for? Cash, I guessed. Jewellery she could sell; maybe even my passport. I had been deceived again. It felt like the final blow; I couldn’t take any more. I collapsed on the carpet in floods of tears.

  I don’t know how long I lay there, hugging my stomach, knees drawn up to my chest, crying myself out. I was so exhausted that I even fell asleep for a short while. When I eventually woke, eyes stuck together, vision bleary with tears, back aching from the hard floor, the afternoon sunshine had vanished. I rolled onto my hands and knees and slowly pushed myself upright.

  I stood there listening to the silence, absorbing the stillness. I knew nobody else was in the house. I could almost taste my loneliness. What time was it? It couldn’t be late, because Chloe clearly wasn’t home yet, and she’d been keen to get back from school early to see Jade.

  Jade … Oh yes, now I remembered. I stared at the muddle of discarded clothes and overturned storage boxes, feeling wretched. I would have to go through everything and work out what she’d taken. Then I’d have to decide whether to call the police. She wouldn’t have found anything of great value – there were no family heirlooms, no bundles of cash hidden under the mattress. I went to my bedside cabinet and opened the bottom drawer. To my surprise, my passport was still there. At least she hadn’t gone that far, I thought, but it was small comfort.

  I went downstairs and made a cup of tea, mainly because I couldn’t think of anything else to do. According to the clock, the time was 18.23, which worried me. Where was Chloe? I reasoned that Jade must have messaged her to say she’d had to leave and that was why she hadn’t come home yet. She knew I usually dished up dinner at around seven so would probably arrive at the last minute, as she often did – much to my irritation. Not that there would be a meal on the table this evening. I hadn’t even thought about what to cook, and my stomach was so churned up I couldn’t face food. But Chloe didn’t know that. Even though our lives had been turned upside down, we still needed to eat. We’ll have to get a takeaway, I thought as I rummaged through the kitchen drawer for menus, desperately trying to pretend that everything was normal. But I knew in my heart that something was wrong.

  I sat and waited. When Chloe didn’t turn up for her non-existent meal, I called her on her mobile, but it was switched off. She very rarely let her phone run out of battery and I doubted she was somewhere that didn’t have a signal. I left a
message, trying not to sound too anxious or cross, and followed it up with a text.

  Stop worrying, I told myself. It wasn’t late; there could be lots of reasons why she hadn’t come home. Maybe Jade had upset her and she’d gone to Miranda’s for tea and sympathy. I wanted to check my theory out, but I didn’t want to ring Miranda’s mother for a second evening running. It was embarrassing to be so out of control of my teenager.

  I didn’t want to alert Tom either. I could do without his patronising comments, telling me to calm down and stop catastrophising. Neither did I want to explain that Jade had turned up and spent the night in the house. If Chloe had fled to join him at Granny’s, he would have let me know, or made her contact me to put my mind at rest. No, Tom couldn’t help; he’d just make things worse.

  Time ticked on. Eight o’clock … half past nine … What had happened to her? Why wasn’t she answering my calls? I’d been through every possible scenario I could think of, and none of them made me feel any better. I thought about calling the police, but I knew they wouldn’t be interested.

  In desperation I called Miranda’s mother, who told me Chloe wasn’t there. She heard the panic in my voice and was actually quite sympathetic.

  ‘I’ll ask Miranda if she knows anything and call you straight back,’ she said. ‘Don’t worry, I’m sure there’s a simple explanation.’

  I paced about the room, my anxiety levels rising by the second. When the landline rang a few minutes later, I nearly jumped out of my skin. ‘Chloe!’ I shouted as soon as I picked it up.

  ‘Sorry, it’s Miranda’s mother … I’ve spoken to Miranda and she says she hasn’t heard from Chloe all day.’

  ‘What do you mean? She must have seen her at school.’

  ‘Er, no … apparently she was absent.’

  ‘No, she wasn’t. I dropped her off this morning myself. I saw her walking towards the ga—’

  ‘I’m sorry, I’m only repeating what Miranda said. She definitely didn’t turn up to any of her classes and nobody saw her at lunchtime.’

  ‘Right … okay, thanks,’ I said, trembling.

  ‘Is there anything I can do to help? You sound distressed. Have you any reason to think she’s in trouble?’

  ‘I don’t know … We’re going through some very difficult times.’

  ‘Yes, Miranda told me. Have you checked Chloe’s room?’

  ‘No. It hadn’t occurred to me.’

  ‘You never know, she might be in bed, fast asleep. I’ve heard that happens quite a lot. When parents call the police, the first thing they do is search the house and that’s where they often find them. It sounds daft, I know, but—’

  ‘No, you’re right, it’s a good idea. I’ll do that now,’ I said, feeling relieved and stupid all at the same time.

  ‘I’m sure she’s fine, but if there’s anything you need, do call again. And when you find her, please ask her to text Miranda so we know not to worry.’

  ‘I will, thanks.’ I put the phone down and hurried upstairs, taking the steps two at a time. ‘Chloe!’ I shouted. ‘Chloe? Are you there?’ I opened the door of her bedroom and stepped inside.

  The bed had been made, and her dressing table was looking strangely tidy – there were no palettes of eyeshadow or tubes of mascara littering the surface, and her magnifying mirror had gone. It instantly rang an alarm bell and I quickly opened the wardrobe. There were plenty of clothes hanging there, but the rail didn’t look as crammed as usual. Was there stuff missing or was I imagining it? I rattled through the hangers, racking my brain to remember items that should be there.

  Her spare school uniform was still hanging up, together with some of her tops and jeans. I found the skimpy silver dress that she’d worn to the business awards ceremony, and held it to my face, hoping to smell the cheap perfume she’d doused herself in. How grown up she’d thought she looked that night, naughtily racing ahead to grab a glass of fizz before we could stop her. It was the last time we’d gone out together as a family. Could it have been the last time ever?

  But there was no time to feel sorry for myself. I went through her drawers next. The underwear drawer was virtually empty and I could only find a couple of T-shirts. Her beloved Doc Marten boots had gone too. That clinched it. I wasn’t catastrophising; it was real. Chloe had run away.

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Jade

  May 2020

  ‘What floor do you live on?’ asks Chloe, craning her neck to look upwards.

  ‘Eleventh. It’s that balcony with the purple towel hanging over the edge, see?’

  ‘Oh … er … yeah, I think so.’ Chloe shudders. ‘I’m scared of heights.’

  ‘Me too. But you don’t notice once you’re inside the flat.’

  Jade unlocks the main door and leads the way to the lift. She presses the call button and smiles at Chloe reassuringly. It’s been emotional. They are both tired from walking around Camden, taking it in turns to carry Chloe’s rucksack. Jade has worn the bloody thing all the way from the Tube station and it’s making her lower back hurt.

  Up they go in the piss-smelling lift. Chloe screws up her nose and Jade tells her that you get used to it after a while, which isn’t true but seems like the right thing to say. It’s important her sister feels at ease, like this is an adventure, like they’re having fun. She doesn’t want Chloe to think she’s been abducted.

  Which is why she suggested they went to London for the day to cheer themselves up. They had a good time going around the market, trying stuff on, eating street food and drinking insanely expensive hot chocolate, and now they’ve come back to her flat for a sleepover. What could be normal than that? They will have a bite to eat and then watch telly – a box set on Netflix, perhaps, or a horror movie. Jade likes the thought of them huddled on the sofa together, giggling and screaming as they hide beneath a blanket. There’s nothing better than fake terror to make a person feel cosy and safe.

  ‘Here we are!’ She opens the door to the flat and they go inside.

  ‘You live here alone?’

  ‘At the moment.’

  Chloe gazes around curiously. Almost every surface is covered in Amy’s vintage stuff – men’s shirts on the dining table, ladies’ jumpers on a chair. There’s a free-standing rail of cotton dresses and numerous shoeboxes stacked against the wall like oversized bricks.

  Jade dumps the rucksack on the carpet. ‘The woman who lives here is on holiday.’

  ‘Oh … right. Does she run a boutique or something?’

  ‘No, this is all her daughter’s stuff. It’s vintage. She sells it online. I help out with sourcing and sometimes people come here to collect.’ Jade pinks. ‘I’ve even done a bit of modelling for the website.’

  ‘Cool …’ Chloe trails her fingers along the dress hangers. ‘These are so pretty.’

  ‘Yeah. I just sold a load actually … need to find some more.’

  Jade briefly recalls the guy who came a few nights ago to pick up several fifties dresses, together with some little boleros and a couple of hats. It turned out he was trans. Each to their own, she thought. They had a nice evening together, him trying on stuff and her saying which ones made him look most like a woman. None of them did, to be honest, but it didn’t matter – he left happy and she made a bit of commission.

  ‘Do you want to see where you’re sleeping?’ She picks up the rucksack again and leads Chloe into Mia’s room. The bed is covered with more second-hand clothes – ladies’ coats, men’s jackets and suits. ‘Sorry, I’ll shift all this.’ She picks up a few items and lays them gently on the floor.

  ‘Why don’t you sleep in here?’ Chloe asks. Jade hesitates before replying. She doesn’t want to give the real reasons – that the room creeps her out and it smells weird. Has Chloe picked up on the atmosphere? Is she angling for the sofa instead? This can’t happen; she has to have the bedroom.

  ‘I’m a sofa surfer, aren’t I?’ she jokes. ‘Not a bed surfer!’ Chloe frowns at the lumpy mattress, unconvinced. ‘But it
’s okay for you to sleep here. Mia won’t mind. I’ll change the sheets.’

  Jade goes to the airing cupboard in the bathroom, cursing herself silently. She didn’t mean to give away any names. The less Chloe knows, the better. Oh well, she sighs, taking out a blue sheet and matching pillowcase, perhaps it won’t matter …

  Chloe goes back to the lounge while Jade finishes rearranging the clothes and makes up the bed. She takes a few seconds to review the situation so far. As expected, her sister was very upset when she heard that Jade suffered from foetal alcohol syndrome. She wanted to go to the nursery immediately and shame Erin in front of all the mums and kids.

  The idea was very tempting, but it would have been a deviation from the plan. Jade doesn’t usually have plans – only impulses. It has taken a lot of effort and concentration to get this one going, and she wants to see it through to the end.

  When she goes back into the lounge, Chloe is studying Mia’s collection of framed photos on the walls. They’re mainly smiling snapshots of past holidays, and old school portraits of Amy.

  ‘Is this Mia?’ She points to one of Jade’s favourites, a picture of Mia taken about ten years ago, raising a glass of what looks like sangria to the camera. Her hair is long and luscious, bleached by the sun. She looks about four stone heavier than she is now, although not in the least bit fat.

  ‘Yes, that’s her,’ Jade says, sighing a little.

  Chloe moves on to the next picture. ‘And this must be her daughter, the one who sells clothes. What’s her name?’

  ‘Amy.’ Jade bites her lip – there she goes again, giving the game away.

  ‘Oh … right. Is she the one who pretended to be you and blackmailed Mum? I don’t care if she is. Serves her right.’

  ‘I wasn’t in on it,’ Jade replies, feeling the ground shifting beneath her. ‘I didn’t know, honest. I’m really pissed off with her for doing it – I mean, she used me, and that’s wrong. But …’ She pauses, wondering how much more she should say. ‘Want some toast? I’ve got jam, Marmite or peanut butter.’