Her Last Tomorrow Read online

  Jane doesn’t say anything for a few moments, but I can tell she’s looking at me. I hear her intake of breath before she speaks to me in her faux-casual way again.

  ‘Does Nick go to the gym often, then?’

  ‘Not very often, no,’ I reply, my voice almost a whisper.

  ‘Which one’s he a member of?’

  I swallow. ‘I don’t know.’

  ‘You don’t know?’ Her voice doesn’t sound particularly shocked. It’s almost as if she expected me to say it. Of course she did. She knows already. She’s just trying to get me to say it. ‘Surely you know which gym he goes to. Unless he goes to more than one.’

  ‘He has done,’ I say. ‘I think he just does a pay-as-you-go thing now. Bit silly paying every month if you don’t go that often.’

  ‘That’s true,’ Jane replies, her tone becoming much more friendly again. ‘In fact, I think I remember seeing an article once about why it’s pointless doing exercise at all unless it’s regular. Otherwise you just cycle. A bit like yo-yo dieting. You need to keep it up. It’s all about lifestyle changes. Sometimes you need to make big changes and sacrifices in order to get what you really want. It’s not always easy, but sometimes you need to do it.’

  I can’t help myself. ‘Are we still talking about Nick’s non-existent exercise regime or are you trying to get at something else?’ I bark.

  Jane looks genuinely shocked that I’ve snapped. ‘No. Like what? I was just asking because neither of you have ever mentioned the gym before and it seemed a bit odd that he was suddenly off there at the moment. Especially seeing as I had enough trouble getting you out of the house to get some basic groceries.’

  ‘Yeah, well, we’re all different. Nick likes to get out of the house and distract himself. I don’t.’

  ‘Maybe you should think about it,’ she says, coming over behind me and placing a calming hand on my shoulder. ‘You shouldn’t feel guilty about living. You can’t beat yourself up over things and sit stewing, because it won’t make things any better. It won’t affect the odds of Ellie coming home. But it does mean that when she comes home her parents won’t have turned into complete nut jobs.’ She says this with a small chuckle, trying to lighten the mood. It doesn’t work. ‘Come on,’ she says, shaking my shoulder slightly. ‘Leave the worrying to us, eh? We get paid for it. Not nearly enough, but still.’

  ‘I don’t know,’ I say, wresting myself free from her grip. ‘It still doesn’t feel right going over to Emma’s for wine when my daughter’s missing. It’s perverse.’

  ‘More perverse than sitting in your darkened living room staring at the walls?’ she asks. ‘It’ll do you good to be around friends. To have a change of scenery. I’ll know where you are if I need to get hold of you, and I imagine Nick’ll be here, anyway. If he’s not off down the gym or his new favourite pub again.’

  Just as I’m about to agree with her, her tone makes me reconsider. I really don’t like the way she’s speaking about Nick. It’s not that I don’t have my own worries about him, because I do, but the way she’s saying things makes him sound like a criminal. He’s not a criminal; he’s just useless and naïve. He always has been, but this time it feels like he’s trying to cover something up. A large part of me hopes it’s just because he feels guilty about going back inside the house and leaving Ellie in the car. Another part of me doesn’t want him to feel guilty, but I can’t help but blame him for a huge part of it. ‘You don’t need to say things like that,’ I tell Jane. ‘Nick’s not a bad person.’

  She nods. ‘I know that. He’s dealing with things his way, and you need to deal with things your way. I just think that some distraction for a couple of hours probably wouldn’t hurt.’

  ‘But it feels wrong,’ I say. ‘I feel as though I’m letting Ellie down by not being here.’

  Jane puts her hand back on my shoulder again. ‘You aren’t. Trust me. You do whatever you feel comfortable with, but I can promise you that nobody will think any less of you for wanting to get out and clear your head for an hour or two. Ellie certainly wouldn’t.’

  I think for a few moments, then nod my head.

  43

  Nick

  I sat in my car for longer than was natural, but it felt right. I couldn’t rush home as I needed to be out for an hour and a half or so – just in case McKenna was there again when I got home.

  A thought crosses my mind. Would she want to check out all the local gyms to see if I was a member? Some were pay-as-you-go, but would she then want to know which one I’d been to and check up on me? I try to push the thought from my mind as I realise that I’ll be going home without my sports bag, too.

  What explanation am I going to come up with? I decided not to go to the gym in the end, and just drove for a bit is pretty plausible considering the situation we’re in. I lost my bag, too is probably pushing it. It feels mad having to explain something so seemingly unimportant, but in the eyes of the police I’m suspect number one and that’s only going to get a hell of a lot worse as the next couple of days pan out.

  I guess I could say I left it at the gym. Perhaps I didn’t work up much of a sweat – couldn’t get myself motivated – so I decided that it’d be easier to just leave my stuff in a locker until the next time. That all sounds great until they want to know which gym I was at so they can check up.

  Will they want to check up, though? Could I feasibly tell them to mind their own business? Things will change after tomorrow. Not cooperating with the police when my daughter’s gone missing and my wife’s just been killed isn’t going to look all that good. I guess my only option is to get another sports bag and put it in a locker at a gym. Can’t be too careful.

  The drive back seems longer than I had expected. Time appears to have slowed. I wonder if my brain has warped its perception of the passing of time to try and allow it to process the thousands of thoughts and emotions going through it.

  When I get home, I’m relieved to find that McKenna isn’t there. I know we’re meant to feel reassured by the police presence, but for some reason McKenna makes me feel uneasy. I know that I’ve not exactly done myself any favours in their eyes over the past few days. But I still can’t shake that horrible sense of injustice that they seem to be concentrating more on trying to catch me out or make me feel uneasy than they are on trying to find Ellie.

  That’s unfair on them. I know it is. I know they’ll be doing all they can to find her and that it’s not an easy job, but that instinctive, primal sense of desperation at wanting your child safe and with you is something only a parent will ever understand.

  I’m finding it hard to look at Tasha. She’s there when I get back, and it’s impossible to describe the feeling I have towards her. It’s almost completely empty. It sounds so strange to be so matter-of-fact about it, but I think my brain has already accepted the fact that she won’t be around much longer. It feels strange saying that after so long together, but I’ve really not been happy in the relationship. I don’t know how long I’ve felt like that, but I can only imagine it must have been years. Why else would I feel absolutely nothing, knowing that tomorrow night she’ll be dead? Maybe it’s because it pales into insignificance in my mind compared to the possibility that Ellie might come to some harm.

  I start to wonder what might have happened if we’d never been put in this situation. Would we just have carried on as normal, me continuing to be unhappy in the marriage? Or would we have eventually drifted apart and got divorced? What effect would that have had on Ellie? They say the divorce of parents can have a hugely detrimental effect on children. I wouldn’t want that for Ellie.

  That’s not to say that the death of a parent wouldn’t have the same effect, of course, but at least there’s some closure there. With a divorce there’s always a permanent reminder. The flitting between two houses, weekly schedules, visitation orders, deciding who’s going where for Christmas and birthdays . . . At least death is final. You can move on.

  I don’t know why I’m trying to j
ustify myself. There’s no justification needed. I just want Ellie back.

  Tasha’s sitting at the kitchen table, browsing through Facebook. Personally, I don’t see the point. I’ve got more than enough going on in my own life right now without having to find out what someone I went to school with had for lunch.

  ‘Everything alright?’ I ask. Ever the dutiful husband.

  ‘Just trying to take my mind off things,’ she says, emotionless. ‘How was the gym?’

  ‘Not great. Couldn’t get motivated,’ I say, sticking to the plan. ‘I feel bad just sitting around here waiting for news, but I feel guilty doing something else instead.’

  Tasha just nods. I notice that she’s stopped scrolling down the page. She doesn’t appear to be reading anything, either. I stand beside the table and notice a stray tear running down her cheek. I put a reassuring arm around her.

  ‘They’ll find her,’ I say. Tasha throws her arms around me and sobs heavily onto my shoulder. She’s clinging on to me like a mountain climber who’s lost his harness.

  ‘Nick, I’m so scared,’ she cries through fitful sobs.

  ‘I know, honey, I know. But they’ll find her. I know they will.’

  ‘What if they don’t? What if . . . What if she’s dead?’ Now she’s looking me in the eye, willing me to say something.

  ‘She isn’t. I can tell. I can feel it,’ I say, knowing I can say this with a fair amount of certainty. Tasha seems to pick up on my confidence, and it looks as though it’s given her some sort of reassurance.

  ‘Thank you,’ she says, almost a whisper. ‘I love you, Nick.’

  She looks pained, broken. And all of a sudden I’m feeling very, very unsure of myself.

  44

  Tasha

  I sit staring at the wall, silently cursing myself for having not said anything. I’d had it all planned. I was going to wait until he got home and confront him about the gym thing. I was going to ask him which gym he went to, why he’d suddenly decided he wanted to go now and, ultimately, what he’d really been up to. But I bottled it.

  I knew deep down that he hadn’t gone to the gym. He never goes to the gym. Not in the past few years, anyway. Sure, he’s had memberships like everyone else, but he cancelled the last one a good two years ago after letting it run for a while. He’s never particularly been a fitness freak, and he’s lucky that his general physique and metabolism mean that he doesn’t need to be. But that’s not all that led me to think that there was no way he’d been at the gym. After the events of the past few days, and with the benefit of hindsight, I now realise that I can tell when my husband’s keeping something from me. I know when he’s lying.

  I think I’ve always known, but I didn’t want to admit to it. I knew there was something in Nick’s past that I wouldn’t want to know about, and I think I was protecting myself by not probing any further or even allowing myself to think about it. Maybe it was a defence mechanism. Maybe it was selfishness. Or maybe it was because I’d been blinded by love. I know it’s likely a combination of all three, but that third possibility made me wonder whether the implication then is that I don’t love Nick any more. Can something like what we’ve been through really cause couples to fall apart that easily? Sure, we’re far from what most people might consider the perfect couple, and before Ellie was born I was certain we’d drift away from each other, but she provided the glue that we needed. She’s what was missing. And now that she’s gone, what else do we have to hold us together? A web of lies.

  Even though I knew Nick hadn’t been at the gym and was planning to confront him about it, when he turned up without his gym bag it threw me. Totally threw me. I was expecting he’d at least come back with the bag, perhaps a towel over his shoulder, splashed a bit of water on his face to look sweaty. But there was nothing. Almost as if he was blatantly throwing it in my face that he’d been lying to me at the same time as assuming I was stupid enough to fall for it.

  And that’s when I realised that everything was falling apart. It sounds daft to hear myself say it, but what sort of relationship is it when you can’t even be bothered to lie convincingly to your partner? When there’s such contempt in the air that you don’t go to the effort of creating a convincing backstory? Maybe he needs his space. Maybe he wanted a cover so he could go out and buy me a present. Building secrecy doesn’t mean he’s up to something.

  With Nick strolling into the house and into the kitchen as if nothing had happened, I didn’t know what to do or think. All of those thoughts came into my head at once, but the one which trumped them all was an unshakeable feeling of pity. I think I’m over feeling sorry for myself. I think Jane’s words made sense. And in that moment I saw Nick out of the corner of my eye and I felt sorry for him. That he’d tried to conceal where he was going and not even been in a state to do it properly. That he felt he had to lie to me in the first place. That this whole situation is dragging us apart. Ellie, our precious daughter, who kept us together in the first place, has started to create huge fissures in our relationship without even knowing about it. It’s not her fault, of course it’s not. It’s our fault and no-one’s fault at the same time. It’s the fault of whoever’s taken her. The nameless person we don’t know. The thing we can’t do anything about. And in that moment I just felt so helpless.

  I regret not saying anything. The moment was so fleeting, so intense, that I couldn’t do anything but struggle to hold back the tears. Everything came at once. And now the moment is gone. It doesn’t feel right questioning Nick now. I don’t need to know. When he held me and told me that he knew in his heart that Ellie would be fine, I could see that in his eyes. I knew he believed it. It’s hard to describe, but when you really know somebody you can tell a lot just by looking into their eyes. You can see sincerity, determination, passion. And I saw all of those things when he told me that he knew Ellie would be fine. It wasn’t just hope – it was a deep-seated, unshakeable belief. In that split second, everything changed. When I told him I loved him, I meant it. Right from that moment, from that look in his eyes, I felt like I had my husband back.

  45

  Nick

  I was awake for most of last night. Tasha opening up to me had thrown me somewhat. She’d always been cold and aloof, but last night I saw a different side to her. I saw her vulnerability, her pained soul. And I saw a different side to myself, too. I saw my conscience.

  In any other marriage, it would have been a beautiful, poignant moment. It would’ve been in this marriage, too, had it not come at this point. I tried telling myself that I was just being tested, that I couldn’t possibly fall for it. I had to stick with the plan, no matter what. After all, it was the only way I was ever going to get Ellie back.

  But try as I might, I couldn’t quite get over the fact that I actually felt something last night. Something new.

  The morning has gone slowly. Tasha’s been out with the police on their searches. They’ve been scouring the local fields and woodland – fortunately for me, nowhere near Medbury. She said she had to at least feel as though she was doing something. It’s been a bit of a blessing for me, because although I’m just sitting at home by the phone, waiting for news I know isn’t going to come, at least I’ve been left alone by the journalists. They’re all out trying to get the exclusive shot of Tasha joining the police in the search for Ellie.

  The worst thing about the silence and loneliness is that it leaves you to think. I spent all night thinking, and right now I just want to be able to sleep. Even leaning back in the enveloping armchair, deprived of sleep and in the company of only the ticking clock on the mantelpiece, I’m still unable to stop the express train of thoughts and doubts running through my mind.

  I’d always heard people saying that these sorts of situations are both physically and mentally draining. I’d never really understood how extreme stress could make you physically tired, but now I do. I’m more than tired; I’m exhausted. I feel like I’ve been through twelve rounds with Mike Tyson.

  And
this is all bearing in mind that I know Ellie will be safe. That she’ll be coming home very soon. How must Tasha feel, with the added uncertainty?

  Now that everything’s arranged, I need only wait for time. I’m trying to force through logical, coherent thoughts. I try to focus on the positives. Ellie will be home soon. This will all be over. Tasha will be gone. It’ll be Ellie and her daddy. Just the two of us.

  I’m still numb about the whole thing. Should I not be feeling something more? I wonder if perhaps my writing has numbed me. Can reading and writing about murder and death make it all seem completely normal? It seems bizarre that one could ever become so completely desensitised to death, but I suppose it’s possible.

  * * *

  As the day continues, I start to philosophise more and more. I realise I’m starting to get political and philosophical about the whole situation. Is it right to take a life to save a life? What if the lives are the wife you no longer love – or even like – and the daughter you love desperately? When it comes down to the simple point of having to choose one to die and one to live, there’s no choice to be made.

  But I still can’t shake the nagging feeling at the back of my mind. If I’m so sure of myself and my decision, why am I analysing it constantly? Why can I not just let the decision go and look forward to the fact that in just a few hours I’ll have Ellie back?

  How will she return? Will she just be left on the driveway in the same manner in which she was taken? How will the kidnapper do that without being seen? What will Ellie say?

  I have a thought. I’m pretty sure she must have seen her kidnapper and will be able to describe where she’s been since she was taken. The kidnapper will know this, too. Ellie’s a smart girl. You only need to spend a few minutes with her to realise that. The kidnapper will sure as hell have spotted it. They’d be identified sooner or later.