Lie For Me Page 2

  I look up at the school gates, anxiety bulging inside my heart. The mums are yet to arrive, and I’m alone on the street, inside my parked car. Is Molly OK?

  A baby missing at the hospital, and now this…is someone sending me some sort of warped message?

  Why?

  I put the school pick-up sign on the dashboard and get out of the car. I walk towards the tall, cast-iron gates of the school, and press the buzzer. Security at the school is good, there is no doubt. But I’m not listening to my rational mind. I need to see my daughter. At the reception, I have to explain to a puzzled receptionist that I forgot to give Molly something. No, I cannot hand it over, I need to give it to her in person. The receptionist agrees, looking bemused. I walk across the empty courtyard, and knock on her class door and wait. I know the teacher and she doesn’t seem to mind when she hears my request.

  Molly comes out, frowning. “What are you doing?” she asks in a mature tone of voice. I cannot help but smile. Partly in relief, partly in pride at my fast-growing little girl. Eight going on eighteen. I hug and then let her go, holding her at arm’s length.

  “Listen to me carefully, Molly. Has anyone spoken to you outside of school, apart from your friends, or me and Jeremy?”

  She purses her lips thinking. “I spoke to Lottie’s mum.”

  “You mean Eva?” I can hear my heart thudding.

  “Yes.”

  “Anyone else?”

  “No.”

  Relief floods through me. I make sure I watch which adult Molly speaks to, but during school time it can be difficult.

  I don’t let Molly stay over at playdates. I always pick her up on time. She mostly has playdates at home.

  I kiss her. “OK, darling. See you soon after school.” Molly turns and goes back inside the classroom. I straighten and smile at the teacher, feeling a little foolish. I get back into the car and drive away, thoughts twisting in my head.

  I need to tell Jeremy. He deserves to know. Would he think less of me if I told him?

  My greatest fear is losing him. I couldn’t tolerate that. For the first time in my life I have found a man I can rely on. Jeremy is not flashy or arrogant. He is happy in our small terraced house, although recently he has been grumbling about the rent. I am happy in our small house as well. I don’t want a massive mortgage, having to watch the pennies. There was a time when I was different. When I wanted a big, posh car like the other mums in the school. Or wanted to live in a large, five-bedroom house in half an acre of land.

  Now I know that doesn’t mean happiness. I could live in a mansion full of servants and be unhappy, lonely. Have all the money in the world, but not be able to trust someone. Not have people who were my friends because they enjoyed my company, but because they wanted favours from me.

  What sort of a life was that?

  Jeremy and I love each other, that much I know. That’s all I care about, and the fact that he loves Molly like his own. I know he wants to have another child. And I want to as well, but….

  Soon, we have to talk. I know that. If I love him, I need to be honest with him. As I park the car outside our house, I grip the steering wheel and lower my head. I don’t want to lose Jeremy. That fear has kept me from telling him all these years. But I cannot go on living like this.

  Something is happening, I know that. Who would send me Molly’s birth certificate? My mother is dead, and my dad lives alone up in the farm in the Yorkshire Dales. He wouldn’t have Molly’s certificate either. I can’t help thinking someone is trying to send me a message.

  As I get inside the house, my phone starts to ring. Caller ID withheld. The numbness is back again, and a cold fear is uncoiling inside me. I answer, trying to control my heart beats.

  “Who is this?” My voice is shaky. I am aware of how quiet the house is. No one responds for a while. The silence is total.

  Then a male voice speaks, and my mind explodes as I hear the words.

  “How safe is Molly, Emma?”

  I am clutching the phone so tight it’s going to break. My mouth is open and I can’t breathe. I need to sit down, but I can’t move.

  I don’t recognise the voice. Eventually I manage to croak. “Who…who is this?”

  With a click, the phone goes dead.

  CHAPTER 5

  The rest of the day passes in a blur. I avoid Jeremy when he comes back from work. I answer in monosyllables, and I can see he knows something is up with me. He’s giving me space, but soon he will want some answers. I hate being like this.

  The next morning after school drop-off, I can’t sit down to read or watch TV. I go into the little studio at the back, and stare at the blank canvas on the easel. I can’t sketch or draw. My eyes fall on the little pen of toys and a doll’s house that Molly has made.

  I can’t bear to be inside the studio all of a sudden. The roof is shrinking, the walls are closing in. I get out, lock the main door, and jump in the car. Still an hour left to get Molly – its only 2.30 in the afternoon. But I need to move, do something. Anxiety is gnawing inside my guts. I need to be in front of her school, be the first parent inside those gates.

  That’s when I see him. A man is standing at the end of the road, staring at me.

  Our road curves to the right at the end, joining the main street. This man is standing just where the road curves, and he is not moving. There is no mistaking that he is staring straight at me. Something about him looks familiar, but he is too far away to be sure. I fumble for my keys, and turn the ignition. When I look up, the man is gone. My eyes dart around. Trees and fences. Clusters of houses. No one standing and staring.

  I touch my heated forehead. Am I imagining things?

  I drive down to the bend in the road. There are no other cars in this quiet street lined with terraced houses. A footpath disappears into a grassy verge at the end, which then enters the park that borders the back of all the houses, including ours.

  From here, the man could only have gone into the park. There aren’t any cars around that he could have driven off in. I think for a while, then make my mind up. I get out and lock the car. I am still wearing the jogging tights, and I pull the hoodie of the coat over my head. My cold fingers encircle the phone inside the pocket.

  The houses around me are quiet. I walk down the path towards the park. My mouth is dry and I can feel my heart fluttering like a tortured bird in a cage. This is where I saw the man, I am sure of it. Not only was he staring at me, he wanted me to know it, too.

  He wanted me to know I was being watched.

  Turnstiles block the entrance and I go through them easily. The park opens up in front of me. It’s a large, green area, with trees surrounding the edges. A kids’ playground lies to the left. A patch encircles the whole of it, snaking out in the distance. It’s a place I normally like, and come here to run quite often. Molly used to play in the kids’ area before she started school.

  Today the place fills me with dread. Movement attracts my eyes to the right. A woman running, I can see her blonde hair in a ponytail bobbing up and down. Another woman with a pram appears near the kids’ area. There is no sign of the man I saw.

  I imagine this place at night. Dark, cold, and overlooking our backyard. Right behind my studio is the fence that forms the boundary of this park.

  It would be easy for someone to jump over the fence and come into our house.

  I turn away, not wanting to think anymore. None of the houses have been burgled in the four years that we have lived here. But you never know. It’s not like I have asked the neighbours specifically. I make up my mind to knock on old Mrs Mountbatten’s door and ask her.

  I get back in the car and drive off, faster than usual. When I get to school, I am one of the few parents who are there. I go in, and stand in the courtyard, outside Molly’s classroom. I am already at the door when the teacher steps out. She looks at me in surprise. I don’t blame her. After all, I am making a habit of being the first parent here.

  Molly is out soon, and when I see h
er, the tension goes out of me. There is a weakness in my legs, and a giddy feeling in my head.

  I give my Molly her after-school snacks and grab her other hand.

  “Ow, Mummy, that hurts,” Molly says, pulling her hand away.

  “Sorry, sweetheart.” I relax my grip, mentally berating myself. I smile at some of the school mums as they walk past.

  I hold Molly’s hand and give it a little squeeze, and she squeezes back. It’s like a game we play.

  We drive back home, eat something, then I drop her off at her piano lesson. There is a black Nissan Micra behind me, which drives past when I take the turning to the piano teacher’s house.

  I have been watching the cars behind me lately. I feel like I’m being watched, and that black Nissan Micra has been two cars behind me for a long time. It’s probably nothing, I admonish myself, trying to soothe my frayed nerves. There’s always a line of cars on our roads. Lots of houses, each with at least one, or often two cars. I try to think if I’ve seen that black Nissan Micra before. An odd feeling tells me I have, but I can’t be sure.

  Louise, the piano teacher, is waiting for us inside her lovely house. Molly is great at the piano, and has completed her grade three exams already. I learnt the piano at her age, but she is miles better than me. I love watching her play, and chat to Louise when I get a chance.

  But not today. I feel more stressed than anything else. I go and sit in the car, chewing my nails, watching the cars whizz by at the top of the road. Louise lives in a quiet cul-de-sac, and hardly any cars turn in here. I have half an hour to kill, and normally I would go back to do some yoga at home, but today I want to stay here, close to Molly.

  I fiddle with my phone for a while, and find the Facebook appeal for baby Margaret. I share it with my contacts, writing a message of support. I look up at the darkening sky, and the pedestrians crossing the road, about a hundred yards away.

  I see a man stop at the mouth of the cul-de-sac. He doesn’t cross the road and keep walking. I stare at him, my heartbeat rising, and a pressure growing inside my chest. He looks odd as he just stands there, moving his head like he’s looking for something. I see his head slowly turn to the right, and then to the end of the cul-de-sac.

  His eyes come to a rest on my car. On me. My hands are white-knuckled fists, pressed into my lap. My breaths are fast and shallow. There’s something strangely familiar about his tall, wide-shouldered appearance. His eyes don’t move away from my car. I can’t see him well enough to recognise him from here, but the fear is rising inside me like a volcano.

  He takes a step forward. A croak comes out of my throat, choked with adrenaline. Is he coming into the cul-de-sac? Will he walk up to my car? Then what?

  My chest feels fit to burst, and my eyes feel they will pop from their sockets. The man takes another step, and he is crossing the road. He moves over, and walks past the cul-de-sac, disappearing from view.

  I stare in the same direction, right hand gripping the door handle. The man doesn’t appear again. I debate whether to get out and check, fearful as I am. In the end, I decide to stay inside the car. If he appears again, so help me, I’m stepping out to confront him. It’s scary as hell, but I need to deal with him before Molly comes out.

  6 pm arrives eventually, and I knock on Louise’s door. Molly gets a glowing report as usual, and will have extra lessons for the mid-term music exams. It means more money, but hopefully I will have sold some paintings by then. As we drive back, my phone rings. I pick it up, my heart lurching. It feels like a grenade, throbbing against the car. Thankfully, it’s the gallery owner, Steve Ponting.

  I apologise for not coming today and set up a meeting with him for tomorrow. Regardless of what else is happening in my life, I cannot mess up this opportunity.

  When I get back home, it’s the usual blur of dinner, homework, washing, cleaning. Jeremy comes back around 7 pm.

  “How’s my two princesses?” he says. I smile and give him a hug, feeling bad for the way I’ve been. I watch as Molly stands on the stairs, shouting at him.

  “Catch me, Jeremy.”

  He puts his briefcase and coat down and balances himself. Molly stands on the third step of the staircase, bends her knees and jumps. She flies through the air, and Jeremy grabs her around the armpits, catching her. Molly squeals in delight. He puts her down, and kisses me lightly on the cheek.

  “Good day?”

  A simple question, but I wrestle with the answer. I need to be honest with him, or the day will come when he will never forgive me. But now doesn’t seem like the right time.

  I nod, and duck back into the kitchen. I feel his eyes on my back, watching me as I avoid him.

  Jeremy reads to Molly in bed as I pour myself a glass of red wine. I go into the TV room, and have just sat down when Jeremy comes in. He closes the door behind him.

  “She’s asleep,” he says and yawns. “I’m starved. Any dinner?”

  “Lamb roast with potatoes. It’s in the oven.”

  “Great,” he says, and goes to the kitchen. I follow him, and we chat as he pours himself some wine, and begins to eat.

  I leave Jeremy downstairs to finish his dinner and go upstairs. I had a light dinner of a sandwich, I’m not very hungry. The stairs creak under the carpet as I pad upstairs. I pause before Molly’s door, listening. It’s silent, almost. I opened the door slightly to see the darkness inside. I step in and I can hear her breathing. With the light of my phone I make sure she is tucked in alright, check the curtains and ensure the windows are locked.

  I always keep her windows locked.

  I come out from her room and go to the loo. The window in the bathroom looks out over the garden and the park beyond it. I lower the blind before I turn on the light. As my hand is on the blind rope, I look out over the dark expanse of the park. Something catches my eyes and I freeze.

  Like a giant firefly, a single glow of light flashes in the dark. It bobs up and down, and from side to side. Someone is holding a torch and they are moving. Running or walking?

  I can’t be sure. Tentacles of fear spread their claws inside me as I watch the blob of light approaching our back garden. It becomes brighter, steadier. Hypnotised, I can’t tear my eyes away. The light stops moving just beyond our fence. Beyond my studio.

  Then the light raises itself, till the beam is pointed directly at me. The beam is strong and it illuminates the window. The person holding the light can see me. My heart is jackhammering inside my chest, and I feel I will drown in the pounding of blood against my ears.

  I scream and fall back.

  CHAPTER 6

  I am covered in sweat. As I stumble back, my feet slip on the bathroom mat and I fall, jarring my hips on the floor. Pain lances across my lower back and leg, and I wince. I can still see the light through the window, lighting up the bathroom ceiling. Panic grips me. I need to get out of here. Out from where he can see me. I crawl towards the door when it suddenly opens.

  Jeremy turns the light on, and I shield my eyes. When I open them, Jeremy is standing there, staring at me.

  “Emma, what’s wrong?” Jeremy leans over and picks me up. I get up slowly. My left hip is worse, and the whole of my back is now hurting. My elbows got knocked and there is a dull ache in them.

  “Are you OK? What happened?”

  I swallow, and my throat is dry. “There was someone outside, shining a torchlight on our window.”

  “Really? Who?” Jeremy looks out the window and then realises he can’t see anything with the bright light on. He turns the light off and moves to the window. He peers out, opening the window fully.

  He says, “There’s no one there, darling.”

  I join him at the window, limping on my right leg. The inky-black, undisturbed expanse of the park greets my eyes. Nothing is visible.

  Jeremy’s voice is guarded. “Are you sure you saw something?”

  “Yes, I’m positive.” I am hurt that he doubts me. He notices my angry tone of voice, and shrugs.

  �
�Just asking, that’s all.”

  He lowers the blind and turns the light on. There is a look of concern on his face, but right now, I don’t need it. I don’t need my husband to doubt me, instead of backing me up.

  “I’m not making this up, Jeremy. I did see someone.”

  The look on my face makes him relent. “Sure. It’s just weird why someone would want to do that, that’s all.” He thinks for a moment. “Maybe he’s looking for something. Shall we call the police?”

  “Just leave it for the time being. Let’s see if he comes back,” I say, not feeling sure of myself at all. I know the police won’t be able to do anything about it.

  Only I can, and it’s time I did it.

  *****

  At the school all the mums have got together to organise a relief fund for Suzy Elliot. It had been two days and there is no sign of her baby. Suzy is still stuck indoors, and her mother is helping her. Several of the mothers, including myself, were helping with her other daughter, Lisa. When I thought of Suzy, my own troubles paled in comparison.

  In the indoor courts inside the school, a few tables had been laid down. T-shirts with the baby’s name have been printed. Eva and I pick up a box of the T-shirts and fliers with her face and the police contact details on it. We were teaming up in twos and going to stand on street corners on the main roads, pubs, railway station, handing out the fliers, putting up posters.

  As we set off, I ask Eva if we should stop by and see Suzy. She agrees. I am driving, and traffic is heavy. I am looking in the rear-view mirror, and I see a line of cars behind me. My eyes fall on the black Nissan Micra. It’s a small car, and one I have seen before. It’s probably coincidence, but I keep checking it. It turns left when I do.

  As we take another right and then a left, Eva asks, “Which way are you going?”

  “The back way, for the traffic,” I say. I keep an eye on the rear-view. I cannot see the black Nissan Micra anymore. I breathe a sigh of relief, and soon pull up outside Suzy’s house.