Elisabeth Carpenter - Only a Mother

‘I was convinced of that, too. What are you phoning me in connection with?’

‘I’m ringing about your wife.’

Amanda wasn’t eavesdropping on Luke’s last phone call; she didn’t look up as he replaced the handset.

‘That was Brian Sharpe,’ he says.

‘You’re joking!’ She looks up from what Luke assumes is her Twitter feed. ‘What did he want?’

‘He’s been following Craig Wright since he was released from prison.’

‘What?’ she says, frowning.

‘Yeah, I know. It’s all a bit strange. But he rang about Helen. He said Craig’s been watching her. Brian followed him into the hospital car park, then as Helen came home.’

‘Are you sure this Brian isn’t some crank?’ says Amanda. ‘I mean, how did he know that Helen’s your wife?’

‘Shit. I hadn’t thought of that.’

Luke rests his elbows on his desk and covers his face with his hands. What will he tell the girls if something has happened to their mother? He can’t bear to think of their little faces, their tears, their lives growing up without her.

Luke sits up, wiping his eyes. He’ll call the police and tell them what Brian said.

After replacing the handset, he clicks on to Facebook to see if Helen was tagged in any photos last night. Luke wonders why he hadn’t thought of that earlier, but he sees none. He clicks on Helen’s colleague Simon’s page, and he’s uploaded seven pictures. Helen is in all of them, but they’re not sitting together, which is obvious if Simon’s the one taking the photos. In the first few, she’s sitting next to Ivy, so it must’ve been early. Ivy has her arm around Helen, whose hand is shielding her eyes, her head lowered. Was she crying, or didn’t she want her picture taken?

Luke clicks on to his Facebook messages. There’s still no reply from Denise; the message remains unread, but that might be because they’re not friends and it’s gone into a separate folder. He goes to Helen’s profile. There’s a post on her page:

U lost ur phone, hun? Missed u at work today. Give us a call when u see this xx

‘Have you rung the police about Helen?’ says Amanda.

She places a cup of coffee on his desk; he hadn’t noticed her get up. She sits back opposite him.

‘Yeah.’ Luke rubs his face, trying to rid himself of weariness. It doesn’t work. ‘They said they’d keep a lookout for her. I don’t know what else they can do – they’re already looking for Craig Wright.’

‘What else did Brian say?’ She leans forward, resting her chin in her hands. ‘He’s gone to the police with what he saw, hasn’t he?’

‘I don’t know.’ Luke sighs, checking his mobile again.

‘What did he say about Craig? Has he been home since the other day?’

‘I didn’t ask.’ He throws his phone on to the desk. ‘Sorry. I sound useless, don’t I? I just want to know she’s OK.’

‘I know,’ she says. ‘But Brian might be mistaken. He’s probably losing it. He can’t be that good at following Craig or he’d know where he is now.’

‘You can’t say he’s losing it, Amanda. His child was murdered.’

‘I’m sorry.’

‘How’s the Jenna Threlfall piece coming on?’ asks Sarah, appearing from nowhere.

She’s wearing her running gear, complete with a rucksack and ear muffs that are hanging around her neck.

‘How did you…?’ says Luke.

‘I just mentioned it to Sarah,’ says Amanda, ‘because she wondered what you’d been up to after writing your articles so quickly…’

Fuck.

The week started so well and now it’s all turning to shit.

Amanda’s doing that thing with her eyebrows, where she assumes Luke’s a mind reader. He guesses that she wrote the book and takeaway reviews for him and promises her (mentally, with a lift of his own eyebrow) to buy her lunch tomorrow.

‘Heard from Brian Sharpe today,’ says Luke. ‘He’s been watching Craig Wright and said that he’d been following my wife, Helen. I’ve telephoned the police, but I haven’t heard from her.’

‘Oh God,’ says Sarah. ‘You should get home. Are your daughters all right?’

‘Yes. I phoned their childminder straight after I spoke to the police. She’s going to have them until I get back, however late.’

‘Shit. I assume Brian Sharpe’s taken whatever information he has to the police?’

‘He didn’t specifically say that he’d spoken to the police…’

Sarah puts her hands on her hips.

‘OK, right. Do you want me to hang on here with you?’ she says.

‘No, no. I’ll be fine,’ says Luke. ‘I’m sure it’ll be fine.’

‘OK, if you’re sure. You’ll keep me updated, won’t you?’

She puts in her earbuds, covers them with her ear muffs, and jogs towards the exit.

‘Hey, guys,’ shouts Derek. ‘Turn the news up.’

‘Just seen it on Twitter,’ says Amanda. ‘A body’s been found.’

‘Oh God,’ says Luke. ‘Any details?’

Derek gets up from his seat; it’s the most Luke’s seen him move all day.

Luke turns to the television. It shows a white tent in the distance, beyond the yellow crime scene tape. It looks like a picture taken from social media.

‘ Police have discovered the body of a female in a disused house in Preston. It is not believed to be the body of the missing teenager Leanne Livesey. ’

There’s a collective sigh of relief as the brief report ends.

‘So who the hell is it?’ says Luke, walking to Amanda’s desk. ‘Anything on Twitter about where it was found?’

‘Someone’s saying it was an older woman. No idea who found her.’

‘Anyone mentioned Craig Wright?’

‘Not that I can see.’

‘Drugs maybe?’

‘Don’t think so.’

Amanda looks up at Luke and seems to have the same thought as he does. Luke’s blood runs cold.

‘What if it’s Helen?’

‘It won’t be her, Luke. Don’t worry. You’d have heard from the police if it were Helen.’ She glances up at him, but he can tell she’s worried too. ‘Oh,’ she says. ‘Someone’s tweeted a picture of the house the body was found in. It’s on Inkerman Street.’

‘I can’t look. That’s near Erica’s house, isn’t it?’

She types both street names into Google.

‘Two minutes’ walk between the two.’

‘Oh God. What if Craig’s taken my wife there?’

Luke feels like he’s going to be sick; he can’t breathe.

Amanda looks at him, her eyes wide.

She grabs her bag from her bottom drawer. ‘Let’s go.’

It’s dark outside. It makes Luke worry about Helen even more. Please, God, please don’t let it be Helen. He closes his eyes as Amanda drives them across town.

‘It won’t be Helen,’ she says. ‘It can’t be.’

‘That’s what I keep telling myself.’

Luke checks his phone again: no messages. He dials his wife’s number; this time it doesn’t ring at all – it goes straight to voicemail.

‘I think her phone’s been turned off,’ he says.

‘It’ll have run out of battery. Try not to worry.’ She glances at him. ‘I know, it was a stupid thing to say. Of course you’re going to worry.’ She slows down to take a right. ‘We’re about a minute away.’

They turn on to Inkerman Street and it’s obvious from the blue flashing lights and the gathering onlookers where the house is.

Amanda pulls up a few metres down the street.

‘I don’t think I can move,’ says Luke. He folds, putting his face in his hands. ‘I just want a few more minutes where everything’s OK.’

He feels Amanda’s hand on his back.

‘Take your time. Whenever you’re ready.’