ANNA
Monday, 22 July 2013
Morning
TOM WOKE ME UP early with a kiss and a cheeky grin. He has a late meeting this
morning, so he suggested we take Evie around the corner for breakfast. It’s a
place where we used to meet when we first started seeing each other. We’d sit in
the window – she was at work in London so there was no danger of her walking
past and noticing us. But there was that thrill, even so – perhaps she’d come
home early for some reason: perhaps she’d be feeling ill, or have forgotten some
vital papers. I dreamed of it. I willed her to come along one day, to see him with
me, to know in an instant that he was no longer hers. It’s hard to believe now
that there was once a time when I wanted her to appear.
Since Megan went missing I’ve avoided walking this way whenever possible
– it gives me the creeps passing that house – but to get to the café it’s the only
route. Tom walks a little way ahead of me, pushing the buggy; he’s singing
something to Evie, making her laugh. I love it when we’re out like this, the three
of us. I can see the way people look at us; I can see them thinking, What a
beautiful family. It makes me proud – prouder than I’ve ever been of anything in
my life.
So I’m sailing along in my bubble of happiness, and we’re almost at number
fifteen when the door opens. For a moment I think I’m hallucinating, because
she walks out. Rachel. She comes out of the front door and stands there for a
second, sees us and stops dead. It’s horrible. She gives us the strangest smile, a
grimace almost, and I can’t help myself, I lunge forward and grab Evie out of her
buggy, startling her in the process. She starts to cry.
Rachel walks quickly away from us, towards the station.
Tom calls after her, ‘Rachel! What are you doing here? Rachel!’ But she keeps
going, faster and faster until she’s almost running, and the two of us just stand
there, then Tom turns to me and with one glance at the expression on my face
says, ‘Come on. Let’s just go home.’
Evening
We found out when we got home that they’ve arrested someone in connection
with Megan Hipwell’s disappearance. Some guy I’d never heard of, a therapist
she’d been seeing. It was a relief, I suppose, because I’d been imagining all sorts
of awful things.
‘I told you it wouldn’t be a stranger,’ Tom said. ‘It never is, is it? In any case,
we don’t even know what’s happened. She’s probably fine. She’s probably run
off with someone.’
‘So why have they arrested that man then?’
He shrugged. He was distracted, pulling on his jacket, straightening his tie,
getting ready to go and meet the day’s last client.
‘What are we going to do?’ I asked him.
‘Do?’ He looked at me blankly.
‘About her. Rachel. Why was she here? Why was she at the Hipwells’ house?
Do you think … do you think she was trying to get into our garden – you know,
going through the neighbours’ gardens?’
Tom gave a grim laugh. ‘I doubt it. Come on, this is Rachel we’re talking
about. She wouldn’t be able to haul her fat arse over all those fences. I’ve no
idea what she was doing there. Maybe she was pissed, went to the wrong door?’
‘In other words, she meant to come round here?’
He shook his head. ‘I don’t know. Look, don’t worry about it, OK? Keep the
doors locked. I’ll give her a ring and find out what she’s up to.’
‘I think we should call the police.’
‘And say what? She hasn’t actually done anything—’
‘She hasn’t done anything lately – unless you count the fact that she was here
the night Megan Hipwell disappeared,’ I said. ‘We should have told the police
about her ages ago.’
‘Anna, come on.’ He slipped his arms around my waist. ‘I hardly think Rachel
has anything to do with Megan Hipwell going missing. But I’ll talk to her, OK?’
‘But you said after last time—’
‘I know,’ he said softly. ‘I know what I said.’ He kissed me, slipped his hand
into the waistband of my jeans. ‘Let’s not get the police involved unless we
really need to.’
I think we do need to. I can’t stop thinking about that smile she gave us, that
sneer. It was almost triumphant. We need to get away from here. We need to get
away from her.
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