The Forever Home by Sue Watson

Chapter Twenty-Eight

The two detectives walked into the house, and both remarked on the TV programme. DS Barker, ‘Call me Sally,’ was enthusing about the view, and DS Harefield, ‘Call me DS Harefield,’ was asking if it was an expensive house to maintain.

‘Yes, it is. I have someone working on it now as a matter of fact,’ I said, smiling weakly, and gesturing for them to sit down.

‘Oh,’ DS Harefield said, sitting down, pen poised, ‘who’s that?’

I gave him Ryan’s name, feeling awkward, like he was a suspect. Harefield wrote this down carefully, and Sally, who seemed much more relaxed, told me how she used to watch the programme.

‘Oh, we loved The Forever Home in our family, every week we’d sit round the telly – I can’t wait to call my mum and tell her I’ve actually been here.’

I nodded, still finding words hard. I’d never been visited by detectives before.

Phoebe stepped into the sitting area, and asked if they’d like tea or coffee. They both asked for tea – which she made while they asked me about the previous evening.

‘Before we start, do you mind your daughter being present?’ DS Harefield asked.

‘Not at all,’ I said. ‘In fact, Phoebe knows… well, knew Erin well, she might be able to help?’

Phoebe nodded almost too enthusiastically from the kitchen area.

‘You say knew her… there’s nothing to suggest Erin’s dead,’ DS Harefield said bluntly.

‘Oh gosh, of course not. No, when I said “knew” her, I didn’t mean she was… I meant that they aren’t close any more,’ I blustered, unsure why I felt so nervous; it wasn’t like I had anything to hide.

‘Not that we’re not friends,’ Phoebe piped up, and I wondered if my nervousness was catching. I’d never had two detectives in my living room asking questions before. It was quite intimidating.

‘I’m surprised you’re investigating so soon,’ I said, in an attempt to climb out of the hole me and Phoebe had just put ourselves in.

They both looked up at me questioningly.

‘I mean – I thought, unless the person was a high risk, the police didn’t start looking until after twenty-four hours?’ I don’t even know why I said this. I’d read it on a website somewhere and was just trying to make conversation. But as soon as I heard myself, I realised I sounded dismissive, or worse, guilty!

‘It depends,’ DS Harefield said, looking at me intently. ‘Erin Matthews is the mother of a newborn, and the fact she’s missing is a concern. Her own mother, Mrs Lara Matthews, is also extremely concerned for the welfare of her daughter. She called us after phoning everyone she knew, and then all the local hospitals, so it is… something we take seriously. Very seriously indeed.’

‘Of course, of course,’ I agreed, blushing and wishing I’d never said anything.

Thankfully, Phoebe brought over two mugs of tea and put them down on the coffee table, which gave us all a welcome pause.

‘So, you were the last to see her, Mrs… er… Mrs…’ DS Harefield was clearly feeling uncertain now; he’d obviously read something in the Sunday papers about my husband’s new woman, but for the life of him he couldn’t recall her status.

‘Anderson. I’m still Mrs Anderson, we aren’t divorced yet,’ I said, quietly.

He began to make notes. ‘Okay, so can you cast your mind back to last night and tell us about her visit, Mrs Anderson?’

‘Every detail, however small or seemingly insignificant,’ Sally added, now taking out her own notepad in anticipation, as I began to tell them, in detail, about the previous evening. They both listened intently, occasionally sipping on tea, taking copious notes and asking for clarification as I continued.

‘But when I turned round, the door was open and she’d gone,’ I explained, reaching the end of the story from my perspective.

‘Do you have any idea where she might have gone?’ Sally asked, her head to one side, pen held poised above her notebook.

‘No, she just disappeared, so I went out into the garden, looked everywhere, but it was dark and stormy – I couldn’t see a thing.’

‘Did you phone her?’

‘No, no, I didn’t. I was too busy trying to find her… Besides, I don’t have her number.’

‘But you’re friends with her mother, Mrs Matthews, surely you have her number?’ DS Harefield probed, and I detected something new creeping in.

‘I did call Lara, but she didn’t pick up,’ I clarified.

‘Did you leave Lara… Mrs Matthews, a message?’

‘No, we haven’t spoken for months. I didn’t want to alarm her; I assumed Erin had gone home to Mark, or was staying at a friend’s.’

‘So you didn’t leave a message,’ DS Harefield reiterated, pen poised, judgement in his voice.

I put my head down. ‘No. No I didn’t. It was difficult. I didn’t want to upset her, and under the circumstances, my husband… and her daughter… it was difficult.’ I left it there and hoped I didn’t have to spell this out.

Sally nodded, she got it, but DS Harefield just looked at me steadily, like he was waiting for a more detailed explanation.

‘Look,’ I said gently. ‘I didn’t think Erin was in any danger. I’m as amazed as everyone else that she’s gone missing. If I’d had any idea this would happen, I—’

‘But you went into the garden, you say? The edge of the garden is built on the cliffside, right? So it did it occur to you that she might have had an accident?’ DS Harefield continued to probe.

‘Yes, well, anything is possible, I suppose…’ I answered, in a quiet voice.

‘Mrs Matthews says she spoke to you this morning?’ Sally broke in, bringing a bright tone and a welcome smile.

‘Yes, yes, she did – I was a bit surprised when she rang; it was the first time we’ve spoken in six months.’

‘Why is that? Had you had some kind of argument?’ asked DS Harefield. For God’s sake, wasn’t it bloody obvious?

‘It was just awkward… I mean it is just awkward,’ I said, trying not to sound irritated. I could feel myself getting caught up in knots. I felt like everything I said was being scrutinised. ‘Lara’s daughter is with my ex-husband now, and so obviously it’s difficult for Lara and I to be friends.’

‘Her daughter’s the same age as your daughter, isn’t she?’ Sally asked.

‘Yes, she is. That’s how Lara and I met. When the girls were both small.’

Phoebe, who’d been hovering in the room, sat down next to me on the arm of the sofa.

‘She was probably sleeping with Dad when she was friends with me,’ she announced.

Both the detectives perked up at this and I didn’t feel Phoebe’s comments were helping. She was trying to make them see that Erin was no innocent, but in doing that made it sound like Erin had become the enemy – which she had, I suppose. But I didn’t feel it was appropriate to share these strong feelings with the two detectives trying to find her. Especially as I was the last one to see her.

‘She’s very young, it was his choice,’ I said, ‘but, naturally, Lara and I now have different loyalties, and sadly we aren’t the friends we were. It happens,’ I added, like it was unimportant. Like the fact my husband had not only run off with someone half my age, he’d chosen my best friend’s daughter, thus denying me any comfort from my best friend at one of the worst times in my life, was inconsequential. If I resented anyone, it was Mark. Erin was just another of his toys who’d come along at an opportune time, just when he was looking for a new leading lady.

Eventually, after more difficult questions, they were ready to leave but took my mobile and landline and said they would need to speak to me again. And as I let them out, DS Harefield said, ‘You have CCTV, Mrs Anderson?’

‘Yes, just here and at the front of the house.’

‘Not at the back?’

‘No – I just wanted it at the front.’

‘Why?’

I sighed. ‘I don’t need it at the back. I want to see who’s at the front door, and choose not to open it if I don’t want to.’ I was rambling now.

‘Have you had problems, with unwanted callers?’ He was looking at me, pen poised.

‘Well, yes. I had a weird parcel delivered a few weeks ago, and sand prints on the floor. A vase smashed, photographs moved too – oh, and a note.’

‘A weird parcel you say?’ DS Harefield pressed.

‘Yeah, it freaked me out. When I opened it… it was a dead rat covered in maggots.’ ‘Did you call the police about this?’

‘No, but I did call the police when I saw a face at the window,,’ I said, sounding like an absolute nutter.

‘Gosh, a lot’s been happening, you must have been scared, someone at the window and a dead rat, that must have been distressing for you. I don’t blame you having cameras fitted after that. Any idea who…’

‘No. I think it might be crazy fans who still think Mark lives here,’ I said, deciding not to mention Ryan’s theory that it might be Erin. I didn’t want to give them any reason to think I had a further grudge against her. ‘It’s happened before, years ago, the children were quite small.’ I told them about the previous episode, and the petals on the bed.

‘No petals this time?’ Sally asked.

I shook my head. ‘There are some lovely things about being part of a TV show, but there are downsides too, and over the years we’ve had all kinds of weird “fan mail”,’ I explained. ‘Mark was always receiving letters from women declaring undying love; he got champagne and underwear on a regular basis; I got death threats. The recent stuff was addressed to me. I don’t know why, anything can trigger them, and let’s face it, “they know where we live”,’ I said in a mock scary voice, which I immediately regretted when neither responded.

DS Harefield looked at me like he was trying to work me out. ‘Was there a note with the parcel?’

‘No, nothing.’

‘Mrs Matthews said her daughter had also received some disturbing messages on social media.’ He began looking around like the sender might pop out any minute. ‘Do you think it might be the same person?’

‘I’ve no idea,’ I said.

‘Do you know anything about Mrs Matthews’ messages?’

‘No, I don’t,’ I replied, offended at the insinuation. ‘But apparently Erin thought it might be me.’

I almost heard their eyebrows raise in unison.

‘It wasn’t me,’ I said, feeling the need to state this for the record.

They didn’t respond; it was like they hadn’t heard me.

‘We’ll need your permission to take a look at the film from your CCTV,’ DS Harefield continued.

‘Of course,’ I replied.

‘Oh, just one thing,’ she said quietly, ‘we didn’t want to say anything in front of your daughter, but Erin’s mum has forwarded a video you sent to her… in the video you claim that Mr Anderson hurt you?’

My mouth went dry. This had all happened so quickly; it hadn’t occurred to me that my video detailing the physical and emotional abuse would now have huge significance.

I started to speak… but couldn’t find the words.

‘We’ll be in touch about that,’ Harefield said, and I closed the door feeling very uneasy.

I walked back down the hall, thinking about the video, damning in itself, but now? I just hoped it would stay with the police; it would devastate the kids if ever they got wind of it.

I went back into the living room, where Phoebe was sitting on the sofa biting her nails.

‘What the hell was that about?’ she said, her face etched with worry.

‘I’m not sure. I feel like I’m in a TV police drama. It’s all really weird. I can’t work out where Erin went last night, but I’m scared that somehow I might be implicated.’

Phoebe stood up, and put her arm around me. ‘Don’t worry, Mum, you won’t be.’

I didn’t like Erin, but I would never cause her any harm. The two detectives who’d been sitting in my living room seemed to have formed their own narrative though. Perhaps they saw me as the woman scorned, the jealous ex-wife? It was an easy, if lazy, connection to make.

But less than half an hour later, Lara called me. ‘I think you should know, Mark’s been arrested. He’s at the police station.’