Stolen (16 page)

Abby nodded and watched as Jen squeezed Simon’s shoulder before leaving. She wanted to walk away but Simon’s hand still covered hers. Standing in her underwear, she shivered and waited for him to speak. She could tell that he was weighing up the pros and cons of challenging her or just letting it go. She didn’t blame him really. Sometimes she wondered herself if she’d lost it already or was just on the road to crazy. Was there any point to all this? Maybe not. But the lack of any other plan, of anything else to do, meant she just went on and on.

Finally he made a decision. ‘Any luck?’ he asked.

Abby shook her head and felt ridiculously grateful that he’d decided to play along. He stood up straight and moved towards her.

‘You should’ve called me. I would’ve come and got you. I could’ve used an excuse to get her to leave,’ he said with a smile.

Abby nodded and made a move to pass him to get upstairs. Instead he reached out and pulled her towards him. Abby didn’t even bother to put up a fight. He kissed her on the forehead and then let her head rest against his chest, his arms warming her cold, rain-soaked body.

After a few moments he released everything but her hand. ‘Go and get a shower. I’ll make something to eat.’

Abby squeezed his hand and let go. Halfway up the stairs she stopped and, without turning around, she spoke. ‘Simon?’

Simon looked up through the railings and waited. ‘Thank you,’ she said and disappeared up the staircase.

She thought about Chelsea Davies’ mother, how she would be feeling, if she felt as alone as Abby did. The reporter had asked if Abby had anything to say to her but what could she say? At least people were still interested in Chelsea, no one had turned away, turned against her mother yet. She could still hear the voices of those who blamed her. Who told her she was a bad mother, a whore, a liar. She still heard them, she still believed them.

She knew Gardner was still on her side. He encouraged her not to give up, but as time went on he seemed to become less hopeful. She saw it in his eyes. She knew that the case wasn’t officially closed but she got the feeling that Gardner’s optimism had worn away. Sometimes she thought he was reluctant to see her in case his hopelessness rubbed off on her.

She still called to give him a piece of information she thought could be relevant, still updated him every month. He always listened and took down the information, following leads even when they couldn’t possibly lead anywhere. She knew for a fact he often used his own time to chase things up that his bosses would never deem worthy of on-the-clock police time. She loved him for that. He was the only one who had stuck by her. Apart from Simon, of course. Jen came and went. She had her own life to lead.

Abby listened to Simon pottering about downstairs, rattling pots and pans. They didn’t have what most people would call a relationship. She couldn’t imagine they ever would. They lived together. They slept together – if Abby instigated it – but those men had taken everything that day. She wasn’t living, just going through the motions. She wondered if things were different, if Beth came back, would she still be here with Simon? She did love him, in a way. He’d stood by her through it all. When she’d finally given in to his offers of a place to stay he suggested moving his studio out of the second bedroom but she’d declined. His work was everything to him. His offer of Beth’s room was quickly shot down too. Abby didn’t want anything to be touched. She knew that if and when Beth came back she would no longer be a baby and the room, as it was, would be useless; but Abby refused to change anything, desperately hanging onto the last little reminders of her baby girl.

The door opened and Simon stood in the doorway. ‘Grub’s up,’ he said.  She looked at the clock by the bed. No wonder she was hungry.

Abby nodded and stood, throwing on some clean clothes and rubbing her hair dry. Simon stood watching and as she passed him he gently touched his fingers to her neck. She gave him a smile and he followed her downstairs.

They ate the spaghetti Bolognese and talked half-heartedly about Simon’s latest trip to London. Simon dumped the dishes into the sink, grabbed the bottle of wine and glasses off the table and headed for the living room. Abby followed and gladly accepted the refill before sinking into the large armchair by the window. Simon sat on the settee, his arm stretched out along the back. He waited until Abby was settled before he started.

‘So where did you go today?’ he asked. Abby took a long, slow sip of wine and then lowered the glass. She was about to put it on the table but knew that she’d fidget without something to hold on to.

‘The beach,’ she said without looking at him.

‘Busy?’

‘Yeah.’

They listened to the rain pitter-patter on the window and avoided each other’s eyes. A car pulled out of a drive across the road lighting up the living room briefly before the lights disappeared, the tyres screeching in the distance. Simon sighed and Abby met his eye.

‘I know you think...’ she started as Simon said, ‘Where to tomorrow then?’ They looked at each other, both unsure whether to continue. The silence hung heavy until Simon broke it.

‘There’s a fun-day in Locke Park tomorrow. I saw a banner as I drove past earlier,’ he said.

Abby nodded. ‘Yeah. I thought I might go.’ She took another sip of wine and then finally put the glass down. ‘Are you busy? You could come..?’

Simon looked at his feet. She knew he would say no. She knew he thought it was pointless and he was only humouring her when he asked about how she spent her days.  There were times when she was out there surrounded by happy and not-so-happy families and her heart ached. She wished she could be one of those families. She wished she was there for fun. Her and Beth and... who? She had dreams of happy family Christmases and birthdays and it was always Simon who was there with her, not Paul. She tried not to let the irony of that get to her.

‘You’re busy. It’s okay. It’ll probably rain anyway,’ Abby said and wondered why she was trying to sound cheerful. Why she was trying to make out like it was a normal family day out rather than a desperate search for a long-gone daughter.

‘Maybe another day,’ Simon said and they both pretended not to notice that he was lying.

Abby left Simon downstairs watching TV. She closed the door and opened the laptop, sitting cross-legged on the bed. As she waited for the page to load she wondered if Simon knew what she did up here. If he’d ever searched her browsing history after she’d gone out. Not that he’d find anything. She always deleted it afterwards. But he never asked what she did, why she never used the computer downstairs. Maybe he knew, maybe he was being kind.

She logged on and noticed how many new postings had been left since she last checked in. She scanned the messages, recognising the names of the writers, noticing some new ones. New members of their club. The club you never want to join.

Abby used to post messages, wanting to know that someone understood, that she wasn’t alone, but she stopped when she realised nobody could understand. Maybe someone else had their daughter taken from them, but she’d never know, she’d never told them that. What if someone recognised her? She wouldn’t be Gail01 anymore; she’d be Abby Henshaw, with her whole life spread across the internet. So she’d left that part out.

She’d tried other sites. There were a lot of spiritual forums, places for forgiveness, where survivors could move on. She respected that, had wondered if she should try it, but it didn’t work for her. She couldn’t find it in her to forgive anyone. Not yet. She’d tried the more militant sites where she could lay out her revenge fantasies and revel in suggestions from other members but in the end she was never going to get it in the real world so what was the point?

So she stuck to this one and she felt like she was part of something for a little while. She could feel for these other women, these other girls, for a few minutes before getting back to her own pain. She could feel a connection to something for once.  But now she’d stopped posting, she wondered why she was still going there.

Abby scrolled through the comments and realised it was because she was hoping there’d be an answer one day. Something to make it go away. Maybe someone would tell their story and she’d recognise it as her own and have a clue to finding the fuckers that did this to her.

She closed the laptop.

She hadn’t found it yet.

‘How’s Simon?’ Gardner asked.

‘Fine,’ she said. ‘He’s just had a couple of photos published... somewhere.’ Abby felt a twinge of guilt that she didn’t remember where.

Gardner nodded as if he was impressed but Abby guessed he probably couldn’t care less. Sometimes she gave Simon news about Gardner and Simon reacted the same way. He sometimes asked what she and Gardner talked about; he didn’t understand their relationship. Which was okay because she didn’t understand it either. It had started fifteen months after Beth had gone. She’d received the first letter in the December, three months after it’d happened. A typed note simply saying,
‘She’s happy. She’s okay.’
Abby had taken it to Gardner and the investigation surged slightly, a tiny sliver of hope after months of nothing. But there’d been no prints, no DNA. Nothing that helped. A year later another note came. Exactly the same as the first but posted in another part of the country. Abby called Gardner and asked him to meet her at the cafe. She knew there’d be nothing on it again, nothing to help her, but she wanted answers, wanted someone to talk to. A few months later she’d seen a girl she thought was Beth and had again called Gardner asking to meet. This evolved into a regular meeting whether there was news or not.

There were times Abby didn’t want to go, when the thought of coming back with nothing was too much. But mostly she enjoyed their talks. She felt comfortable with Gardner. She felt she could trust him, could be open with him. He already knew her secrets, knew about her pain. She could tell him anything. He was a sounding board for her. God only knew what he got out of it. She’d learnt a little about him from their talks but he never really opened up.

Abby took a sip of juice. ‘A reporter called me yesterday,’ she said and Gardner looked up, surprised.

‘Chelsea Davies?’ he asked and she nodded. ‘Fucking vultures,’ he said and looked into his coffee.

‘She wanted to know how I felt when I heard she’d gone missing. If it dredged up memories,’ she said and laughed. She didn’t need to hear about another missing girl to be reminded of Beth. She lived with it every day.

‘What did you tell her?’ he asked, still not looking at her. She knew the case was bothering him.

‘Nothing,’ she said and he finally looked at her and nodded.

‘Best thing to do,’ he said. ‘They shouldn’t be calling you.’

Abby nodded. She didn’t tell him what the reporter had said; she didn’t want to hurt him, although the newspapers had already started down that road anyway. The link between Beth and Chelsea, that Gardner was in charge of both investigations and neither girl had been found. But, Jesus, Chelsea Davies had only been gone a few days. They hadn’t given him a chance. Hadn’t considered the number of cases he had solved. They didn’t have a real bad guy to blame so they’d blame Gardner instead. Everyone got their turn. After the initial sympathy in the days after Beth had gone they’d turned on Abby. Blamed her. Dissected her personal life and found her to be a bad mother. And then they forgot all about her and Beth and moved on to something else. But now they wanted to know about her again. Her misery could help sell a few more papers so why not?

‘I thought about it though. That if I talked to her maybe people would start caring about Beth again,’ she said and moved a crumb around her plate. ‘It’d refresh their memories.’

Gardner stood. ‘I might get another drink,’ he said and walked over to the counter.

Abby wished she hadn’t said anything. What was she expecting him to say? Go ahead, give them what they want? She knew he must’ve read the papers, known that they were questioning his competence. But if she was going to say anything to them it’d be in support of him. No, he hadn’t found Beth yet. But he hadn’t ever stopped trying.