Finding Grace(64)

I’m just about five steps away from my vehicle when a woman in a houndstooth coat strides in front of me, stopping dead and forcing me to stop walking. She shoves a microphone into my face and a guy with a large camera next to her starts to film.

‘We’re so sorry to hear Grace is missing, Mrs Sullivan. Is there any news?’

Other faces crowd in around her, holding microphones and cameras that point at me from different angles. I start to feel disorientated.

‘What? No. No news.’ I step forward, but she doesn’t budge.

‘I know the whole community is hoping for Grace’s safe return; we all pray she’ll be home soon. How are you coping?’

I jiggle my car keys. ‘Sorry. I have to go somewhere, I can’t—’

‘Can I ask what possessed you to let Grace walk home alone, Mrs Sullivan?’

‘What?’

She moves closer. She’s heavily made up and has perfectly sculpted brows that are at least two shades too dark for her.

‘She’s just nine years old. Did any part of you think it might be a bad decision? Did your husband try to change your mind about—’

‘Get out of my way!’ I push past her and yank the car door open, sliding inside.

I feel like I’m hyperventilating. They’re crowding around the driver’s-side window, peering in at me.

I have to get away from here. Just like Nadine warned, they’re all blaming me for what’s happened.





Forty-Five





Monday afternoon





‘Well, this is a surprise,’ Barbara Charterhouse says when she answers the door. In her tweed skirt, twinset and slippers, she looks far less fearsome than she did in the café. She cranes her head to look past me and sees I’m alone. ‘What can I do for you?’

‘I wondered if… Could I have a quick word?’

‘You’d better come in,’ she says curtly. ‘I got the distinct impression you weren’t interested in talking to me when I called at the house, earlier.’

‘I’m afraid I was upstairs,’ I offer limply. ‘I did come down but by then, you’d already left.’

‘Yes. Banished by your husband, to be precise.’

Several dogs bark from somewhere in the depths of the sprawling farmhouse. When I got out of the car, I saw immediately that the exterior was in grave need of repair: peeling paintwork and weeds sprouting from the guttering. Now that I’m inside, it’s the same story. I can smell food cooking, but underneath it is the unmistakable odour of damp.

‘You’ll have to forgive the state of the place,’ Barbara says, a little more cordially, as I follow her into the kitchen. ‘Harold isn’t well at the moment, so a lot of stuff isn’t getting done. You can sit there if you like.’ She indicates a large, scratched wooden table with a collection of mismatched chairs around it.

She plucks a black kettle from a stand at the side of the open fire and fills it at the sink.

She sits down opposite me, her face unsmiling. ‘I said to Harold only this morning, “We may have our differences, but I wouldn’t wish this on the Sullivans.” I wouldn’t wish it on anybody.’

‘Thank you. It is… devastating, as you can imagine.’

‘Of course. I didn’t think anything of it when I saw your little girl on Sunday afternoon. Very brightly dressed she was; you couldn’t miss her. I said to Harold, “Is that the Sullivan girl?” But he was driving and missed the whole thing. Predictably hopeless, I’m afraid.’

So far, she’s the last person to see my daughter, and that must have something to do with the rush of familiarity I suddenly feel in her company.

‘But you’re absolutely sure that it was Grace?’

‘Oh yes. No doubt about it. I never gave it any significance until later, though. When we got back home from visiting my sister, there was a poster affixed to the lamp post at the bottom of our lane.’

The extent of what local people have done to help us suddenly hits me, and I feel so incredibly grateful. Jeffery’s face flashes into my mind and I resolve to apologise to him for my sharp manner.

‘Harold had to stop to let a car through and I caught sight of the photograph, you see. I instructed him to stop and got out of the car, and that’s when I realised I’d seen Grace with my own eyes.’ She looks down at her hands. ‘I wish I’d stopped, asked her if she was all right, but under the circumstances… I mean, with the strained relationship between myself and your husband, that was never likely to happen.’

‘No,’ I say sadly. ‘What exactly was Grace doing when you saw her?’

‘She was walking. Just walking. Not slow, not fast, just moving perfectly normally and looking straight ahead, as you would expect.’ She looks perplexed. ‘I wish I could tell you more, but I’m afraid that’s it.’

Both Blake and I had doubts about this woman’s intentions when we heard who the witness was, but I’m completely satisfied now that she had no hidden agenda in reporting the sighting. She did spot Grace and did entirely the correct thing in going to the police.

She must’ve come to the house, just wanting to tell me about seeing Grace in her own words when Blake so rudely sent her packing.