Deceive Me Page 9

  It’s about twelve o’clock and I’m thinking of heading back inside for some lunch and to see if Adam will go down for a nap when I see Helen walking across the sand towards me. As she gets closer, she breaks into a sprint.

  ‘Joanna!’ she shouts. There’s an urgency in her voice which makes me think something terrible has happened – someone has died or at the very least badly injured themselves. Automatically, I look over towards Adam. Has he somehow waded into the water and got himself out of his depth? But no, he’s still there playing happily in the shallow water, right as rain.

  ‘Where’s his hat? Why hasn’t he got his hat on?’ Helen puffs when she reaches the sunbed. She looks red-faced and furious.

  ‘Oh, well, he kept—’

  ‘I told you, you have to keep his hat on.’

  ‘I’m sorry,’ I say. I explain about the sand and the water but she’s not really listening. She scoops up Adam and whisks him away as if I’ve put him in some kind of grave danger. And I’m left to clear up all his spades and other paraphernalia.

  She’s still going on about the sunhat when we sit down for a late lunch under the vines on the veranda.

  ‘You really must make sure Adam keeps his hat on at all times, Joanna,’ she says, eyeing me as if she’s already regretting their choice of nanny. ‘The sun in Cyprus is really strong.’

  ‘It’s okay. There’s no harm done,’ says Hakan, patting her hand. ‘Calm down, Helen, Joanna won’t want to stay with us if you keep on at her like this.’ He gives me a conspiratorial wink and I feel myself relaxing a little. At least he seems friendly. I’m already beginning to think that Helen could well be a nightmare to work for.

  Later that evening, Adam is tucked up in bed, all the hotel guests have gone to bed or are out and I’m sitting on the veranda chatting to one of the waiters, whose name is Yusuf, and drinking raki, when we hear raised voices coming from upstairs.

  I can’t hear anything they say, apart from a few swear words. There are several muffled thuds and then Helen’s voice, loud and shrill, carries from the bedroom window.

  ‘That’s because you never fucking listen to a word I say!’ she screams.

  Hakan’s voice in reply is low and indistinct.

  Yusuf and I exchange embarrassed smiles.

  ‘I hate you!’ Helen shrieks again.

  Hakan’s reply is drowned out by a sort of crashing noise and Helen comes storming down the stairs. She doesn’t look at me or Yusuf, just sweeps past us out of the restaurant. After she’s gone Yusuf raises his eyebrows. ‘She’s a crazy lady,’ he says, and I giggle. Then there’s the sound of a car engine starting and driving off.

  Hakan comes downstairs a few minutes later, looking weary. His shirt is half untucked, and his black hair is tousled.

  ‘Did you see Helen?’ he asks us.

  Yusuf shrugs. ‘She took the car. I think she must’ve gone into town.’

  Hakan gives a big sigh. ‘Well, I need a drink,’ he says. ‘How about you?’ He pours himself a scotch and one for me and Yusuf too. ‘I’m sorry about that,’ he says, looking from Yusuf to me.

  And I shrug. What am I supposed to say? ‘Will she be okay?’

  Hakan nods. ‘Yeah, she’ll be fine.’ He takes a swig of whisky and smiles at me ruefully.

  ‘I’m sorry, Joanna. You must have a terrible impression of us. It’s not always like this, honestly.’

  I flush a little, embarrassed. ‘It’s all right, I’m used to it. My mum and stepdad fight all the time.’

  Hakan chuckles, then looks over his shoulder. ‘There’s someone at the bar. Would you mind, Yusuf?’

  Yusuf stands up. ‘See you later,’ he smiles at me.

  There’s a short silence after Yusuf leaves, during which I look down awkwardly at my drink. ‘Well, I suppose I should go to bed,’ I say, making to stand up.

  ‘Wait. Stay. Finish your drink,’ Hakan says, placing a hand on my arm. ‘How are you settling in? I mean, apart from the drama tonight.’

  ‘Okay. Adam is a lovely boy.’

  ‘You’re not homesick at all?’

  I laugh shortly. ‘You wouldn’t ask that if you knew my family.’

  ‘Oh?’ Hakan gives me a quizzical look. And somehow, I’m not sure how, because I don’t normally spill my guts like this, especially to people I’ve just met, I find myself telling him everything: all about Dave – his drug addiction and his violent temper, the way he makes me feel uncomfortable in my own home. And then I tell him about my mum’s depression – the way I’ve always had to look after her as if she was the child and I was the mother; how I’ve never really had a proper childhood. It all bubbles out of me like sewage from a blocked drain and Hakan listens quietly. He doesn’t say anything. He just listens. I’m not used to people listening to me like this, as if every word I say carries weight and importance, and it feels liberating, like I’m rising to the surface of the sea and I can finally breathe. When I’m finished, he says, ‘No wonder you’re so mature. You’ve been through a lot, Joanna.’

  And I feel warm heat rising in my cheeks because the way he’s looking at me makes me tingle all over. It’s like he’s seeing me for real for the first time.

  Chapter 17

  Sod’s law.

  Of course it would be Helen on reception. Who else? She’s busy checking in a large German family and I have the chance to watch her unobserved. I have to admit that she’s aged well. She’s a little gaunter maybe and her hair is threaded with grey. But she still has her Grace Kelly figure and her skin is hardly lined.

  A young boy shows the German family to their bungalow and Helen looks over and does a double take. Then her eyes narrow and her cheeks flush a little.

  ‘Joanna?’ she says. ‘Is that really you?’

  I nod and smile.

  ‘Of course, Hakan told me you were on the island, but I didn’t think . . .’

  Didn’t think I would have the nerve to turn up here? I complete her sentence silently. Out loud I say, ‘I’m sorry. I wouldn’t have come if it wasn’t important.’

  She gives me a short assessing stare. Then she nods abruptly.

  ‘Come and sit and have a drink,’ she says. ‘Mehmet,’ she calls to a young man standing nearby. ‘Can you just watch reception for a minute? This is Joanna, an old . . . She used to work here.’

  She leads me out to the veranda, and we sit under the trailing vines and look down at the sea glinting between their green leaves.

  ‘What would you like? Coffee, tea?’ She orders us coffee without waiting for my answer and sits back, unsmiling.

  ‘You left so suddenly, without a word,’ she says. ‘We wondered what had happened to you. We were worried.’

  Is she kidding me? Is it really possible she doesn’t know? No, of course she knows. I knew that as soon as I saw her expression – the brief glitter of hatred in her eyes, quickly veiled. But, typical Helen, she wants to pretend everything’s rosy. Well, if that’s what she wants, I’m happy to play along.

  ‘My mother was ill and—’ I begin.

  ‘Adam will be sorry he missed you,’ she interrupts. ‘He’s at university in Southampton. All grown up now, studying engineering.’

  ‘He always did love making things with Lego,’ I smile.

  ‘Look . . .’ She fiddles with her phone and shows me a photo. It’s a young man standing under a lemon tree, grinning confidently at the camera. I suck in my breath. He looks so much like a younger version of Hakan.

  ‘Wow,’ I say. ‘What a handsome young man.’

  ‘Yes.’ She frowns again. ‘He takes after his father.’

  ‘And you. I can see quite a lot of you in him,’ I add hastily.

  ‘So, you’re living in Cyprus now?’ she says. She pauses just for a fraction of a second. ‘Hakan told me your daughter visited the other day. I wasn’t here but apparently th
ey had quite a good chat.’

  ‘That’s right,’ I say carefully. ‘Actually, that’s what I came about.’

  ‘Oh?’ She seems apprehensive. There’s a hard look in her eyes and in that moment, I think she’s afraid of what I might say. She needn’t worry, though. I’m not about to confront her with unpleasant truths from the past. None of that matters now. All that matters right now is Grace.

  ‘She’s missing. She’s been missing for three days now,’ I blurt. As I speak my voice wobbles and I swallow back tears, feeling annoyed with myself. Why the sudden tears now? I don’t want to break down here, not in front of Helen of all people.

  Helen stares at me incredulously. ‘What?’

  ‘I dropped her off at school on Monday morning and she wasn’t there when I went to pick her up,’ I explain. I’ve said this so often now it’s become almost rote, as if it’s a line I’ve learnt for a play.

  ‘Oh my God,’ she says. ‘That’s terrible, Joanna. And you don’t have any idea where she is?’

  ‘No. Actually, that’s why I wanted to speak to Hakan – to ask him if she said anything to him, anything that could give us a clue as to what’s happened to her.’

  ‘Oh, I see.’ Her eyes narrow and she looks at her watch. ‘Well, Hakan’s not here. He’s gone into town on business, but he should be back soon.’

  ‘He didn’t tell you anything, did he? Like, was there anything odd about her behaviour, anything she said to him?’

  She shakes her head and her eyes slide away from mine. ‘No, he just told me she’d been to visit, that’s all. Nothing else.’ She runs her finger around the rim of the coffee cup. ‘Have you been to the police?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘And?’

  ‘Nothing so far. They found out she’d crossed to the North on Sunday. That’s why I’m here. I assumed she’d come here. She doesn’t know anyone here apart from you and Hakan.’

  ‘She didn’t tell you she was coming?’

  ‘No,’ I admit. ‘We haven’t been getting along very well lately.’

  I see her take this in and the faint look of satisfaction in her eyes. All was not perfect in my world, even before Grace disappeared, and she can’t help taking some pleasure from that. I can’t really blame her, I suppose.

  She shakes her head. ‘Hakan didn’t say anything . . . just that . . .’ She looks past me over my shoulder. ‘Ah, speak of the devil,’ she says lightly.

  I look round and see Hakan walking towards us through reception. He must be at least fifty-two by now, I calculate. His hair is grey, his face tanned and more deeply lined than it was, but he’s still a good-looking man and the sight of him takes me back seventeen years to the day I first met him. I’ve imagined this moment so many times over the years and I’m not sure what I was expecting. Love, desire, anger? But, in fact, I feel almost nothing. There’s no room inside me right now for any emotion other than fear. Fear that I’m going to lose Grace. Fear that I’ve already lost her.

  He starts when he sees me and stands there for a moment frozen with shock.

  ‘Joanna!’ he blusters, overly hearty, to cover up the shock. ‘Well, well, well. Joanna Ewens as I live and breathe.’ Then he comes over and kisses me lightly on the cheek. I sense rather than see Helen watching us.

  ‘Joanna Appleton now,’ I say primly. There’s no harm in bringing my husband into this.

  ‘Oh, yes, yes, of course, you’re married now.’ He sits down next to Helen and puts his arm around her, smiling awkwardly. Then he clears his throat. ‘I met your daughter, Grace, the other day. She’s a charming girl. You must be very proud.’

  ‘She’s missing,’ Helen announces abruptly, shrugging off his arm.

  This information takes a couple of seconds to sink in. Hakan stares at her open-mouthed. ‘What?’ he says. I watch him carefully and I’m fairly sure his shock is genuine.

  ‘Joanna has come here to see if you can help find her,’ Helen says. ‘Well, I’ll leave you two to it. I have to get back to reception.’ She stands up and stalks away stiffly. I look at her go, her rigid back, the way she tucks her hair behind her ears. She knows, I think.

  ‘Grace has gone missing?’ Hakan says, once Helen is out of earshot.

  I lower my voice. ‘I’m sorry, I wouldn’t have come here, I know it’s awkward, but I’m desperate. We haven’t seen her since Monday morning. The day after she spoke to you.’

  He absorbs this, tugging at his earlobe, an old familiar gesture that makes me catch my breath.

  ‘You must be worried sick,’ he says, stretching out his hand across the table. I ignore it. Worried doesn’t even get near to expressing the way I feel.

  ‘I was wondering if she said anything to you? I mean, she didn’t say she was planning to run away, did she? Did she mention that we had argued?’

  He frowns and shakes his head. ‘No,’ he says, then leans in close and whispers, ‘Obviously you know the reason she came here. I think she was curious more than anything. She wanted to know if it was true, if I was her father.’

  ‘And . . . ?’ I hold my breath. ‘What did you say?’

  ‘I told her the truth, of course. I think she thought I would try to deny it. But why would I? She’s my daughter. My beautiful daughter.’ He gazes at me and tears well up in his dark, soulful eyes. ‘Do you think there’s been a day when I haven’t thought of her and longed to see her?’

  I breathe out, anger twisting in my gut. I’m not fooled by his crocodile tears. Not anymore. ‘Does Helen know?’ I ask icily.

  ‘No.’ He considers. ‘At least, I don’t think so. She might have guessed.’

  I nod. ‘She’s not stupid. She can do the maths.’

  Hakan sighs and rubs his head in his hands.

  ‘Joanna . . . I’m sorry . . . It must have been hard for you. I let you down, I let her down . . . I’ve messed up so much in my life.’

  ‘Yes. You have,’ I say bluntly. None of this would have happened if he had acted differently, I think, if he’d lived up to his responsibilities. For a moment I contemplate this alternate life where Grace grew up as Hakan’s daughter, where we were one happy family. But of course, if that had happened, then Jack wouldn’t exist, and I can’t wish for that.

  ‘It doesn’t matter now,’ I say out loud. ‘What matters is finding Grace.’

  ‘Yes, of course.’ He nods eagerly. ‘Is there anything I can do? I’ll do whatever I can. You know, I have contacts in the police here.’

  Same old Hakan – always with the contacts, always networking.

  ‘Thank you. But she’s not here in the North. The Greek police are certain. She came back the same day and her passport hasn’t been used since.’ I try not to think about how easy it would be to smuggle her out of the country. Border control checks are hardly thorough. It would be easy to get her past the border and onto mainland Turkey. But there’s no point thinking that way. I need to believe she’s still on the island and that she’s safe.

  ‘But I don’t understand, why are you here then?’ Hakan asks.

  ‘I thought she might have said something to you – something that might give us an idea where she’s gone. Was there anything she was worried about? Did she mention her boyfriend at all?’

  Hakan clicks the bones in his fingers. ‘Ah, yes, she did seem troubled. I got the impression it was connected to her boyfriend. She told me you don’t exactly approve . . .’

  ‘Yes, well. He’s too old for her for a start.’ As I say this, I stare at him directly and at least he has the grace to look away.

  ‘Oh, I thought he’d been in some kind of trouble with the law.’

  ‘Not to my knowledge.’ I frown. ‘What makes you say that?’

  Hakan looks vague. ‘I thought that was why you disapproved of him.’

  ‘Did Grace say that?’

  ‘No, not in so many words.
’ He hesitates. ‘She did ask me a weird question, though.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘She asked whether if you knew about a crime and didn’t report it, did that make you guilty too?’

  A gecko scuttles over the wall and the trees shiver in a tiny breeze. Despite the heat I feel suddenly cold.

  ‘And what did you say?’ I ask slowly.

  Hakan shrugs. ‘I said it would depend on the crime.’

  I lean forward. ‘She didn’t say what the crime was?’

  ‘No, but I got the impression it was serious.’ He frowns at the tablecloth. ‘Oh my God, maybe she threatened him with the police, and he tried to shut her up . . .’ He breaks off, realising what he’s just said. ‘I’m sorry.’

  ‘It’s okay,’ I say. ‘I have to consider all possibilities. But I know she’s alive . . . I know it in my heart.’

  ‘Yes, of course she is.’ He places his hand over mine. His eyes are big with compassion. I’ve seen that look before. I know now it means nothing. I snatch my hand away and look out at the sea.

  ‘What else did you and Grace talk about?’ I ask.

  Hakan folds his arms. ‘Lots of things. We talked about my book and her love of music, how she must have got that from my family. My mother was a singer, you know. Did I ever tell you?’