I Am Watching You(74)

I see his eyes change and wish I had not pushed him. I fidget with the seatbelt as he clears his throat and indicates to take the turning. I understand now.

‘OK. Here we are, then. You ready for this, Ella?’

I nod, and my stomach grips as we take the strange, narrow approach road to the farmhouse. I am thinking of that awful time I came down here myself. The tussle on the doorstep. The other reason Matthew says he needs assurance that Mrs Ballard has finally made peace over my own place in this.

As she opens the door, Mrs Ballard’s face is strained, her tone all effort. She looks older and thinner and I feel so sorry for her. ‘I can’t thank you enough for coming. Both of you.’ At first she cannot quite look at me. Not yet. And I see Matthew taking this in.

She fusses over making coffee, and though neither of us needs a drink, we accept her clattering about as an icebreaker. Something to ease things.

I admire the kitchen. The house. The large Aga. And then I feel embarrassed at my small talk, noting the pictures on the fridge. Anna as a little girl, unmistakable with her striking blonde hair. In most of the snaps she is with an older girl. Her sister, I assume. A few other photos with friends. A shot in a paddling pool. Anna doing cartwheels on the lawn.

Matthew kicks off the ‘business’ discussion. He asks Mrs Ballard outright if she understands that he remains engaged by me to investigate the postcards. Is she comfortable with this?

‘I understand from Ella that you visited her shop in the past? And that you were very upset when she called here once before.’

‘That was my fault,’ I say quickly.

‘No.’ Mrs Ballard leads the way through to the sitting room with her tray. It is a gorgeous room with French doors onto the garden. In the corner, a beautiful grand piano.

‘I was not myself, Ella. I apologise. I can understand why you might have thought it was me who sent the postcards, but I promise you I didn’t. I came to the shop because at that time I did blame you. It wasn’t fair, but I just didn’t know where to put my anger.’

‘I do understand.’

Matthew talks for quite a while about the difficulties of these kind of investigations. He talks about his contact in the force, about the frustration at the dead ends. The confirmation that Sarah’s father, who remains in custody ‘on other matters’, has a cast-iron alibi for the night Anna went missing. Mrs Ballard says she’s heard the same via Sarah.

‘So, no suspects left.’ Mrs Ballard puts down her mug. ‘Which is why I need your help, Matthew. I have some savings.’ The desperation in her voice is dreadful, and I watch her eyes as Matthew says he will need to think about things and get back to her.

There is this terrible impasse, and so I admire the piano, mention that I had lessons until my teens and regret giving it up. I move over to examine it close up and to take in the beautifully framed photographs along the top. Anna with her sister again, as bridesmaids. Family groups.

And then, such a shock. An extraordinary punch to my gut. The disorientation so great that I feel unsteady.

‘Who’s this?’ I pick up the photograph and turn to Matthew and Barbara Ballard, an image from the past forming again in my head. Not understanding this . . .

‘That’s the girls with a friend. When they did the Ten Tors.’ Mrs Ballard’s tone is wary.

‘But he was on the train.’

‘I’m sorry?’

‘This boy – the boy with the curly hair. He was on the train to London that day. When Anna went to London.’

‘I’m sorry but you must be mistaken. No . . . no. That’s not possible. He was away.’

‘I’m telling you it was him.’ I am looking at the photograph again and then at Matthew, who has stood up and is walking across to me. ‘It was definitely him, Matthew. I nearly spilled my coffee on him . . .’

It was after that awful scene, when I passed the toilet. Sarah, oh Sarah . . . When I decided to move seats to the other end of the train. We were going around a bend. I lost my balance, walking through the aisle.

I’m sorry. The lid loose on my coffee.

It’s OK. Don’t worry. It’s fine.

He looked right at me. Definitely him . . . That hair. Those eyes.

‘Who is this, Mrs Ballard?’ Matthew has taken the photograph from me and is holding it out to her, trying to make her look.





CHAPTER 46


ANNA

July 2015

She is shocked and shaken but also angry with Sarah. She marches after her to try again, pushing through the people all crowded together, dancing and drinking. Suddenly the club is too dark. Too noisy. Too alien. The smell of sweat and alcohol everywhere she turns. She feels a little giddy.

‘We promised to stick together.’ She grabs at Sarah’s arm but can hear that her own words are slurring slightly – sees now that Sarah is unsteady, too. ‘We really need to go now. I don’t feel safe. Please, Sarah. I’m begging you . . .’

‘Oh, for goodness sake, don’t be such a baby, Anna. So dramatic.’ Sarah again shakes her off. ‘I told you already. If you want to go, just go. But I’m not ready. Why don’t you just lighten up. Have another drink.’

‘I’ve had enough here, Sarah. We need to go.’

‘Then – you go. I’ll see you later. Back at the hotel.’ And then Sarah is gone again, through the crowd, heading after Antony into one of the other rooms.