Page 3 of The Tapes

THREE

I can’t remember the last time my daughter said she needed me, if she ever has. I nearly forget to lock Dad’s garage as I barrel out of his house, then I realise I’ve left my car keys inside and have to dart back to grab them.

Faith said she was at her friend Shannon’s. She had started to add something when a muffled voice I couldn’t make out said something to her. She said she had to go – and that was it. Click. I need you.

Town is a blur, except for the obligatory traffic lights that always seem to be on red.

Buildings soon become countryside, with the narrow, crumbling roads, tall hedges, and distant fields.

The houses are no longer in rows; instead separated by large plots and ploughed pastures.

I’m on autopilot, thoughts of Dad’s garage and Mum’s voice replaced by the very present worry that Faith needs me to such a degree that she actually asked.

And she called me, not her father. Maybe a tiny part of me is glad about that.

I try calling my daughter from the car but it rings off.

Another shiver takes me as I round a bend to see a pair of police cars parked half on the verge.

I pull in behind one, and almost fall out of the car as I head for the gate of Shannon’s house.

A uniformed officer is standing tall in front of a sign that says ‘Collins Farm’.

When he spots me, he holds out an arm to block the way.

‘You can’t come this way,’ he says.

I point past him, towards the house. ‘My daughter’s in there. She called me.’

He pauses a moment, slightly raising an eyebrow and not appearing convinced.

‘What’s going on?’ I add.

He chews the inside of his mouth for a moment, before unclipping a radio from his belt. Before he gets a chance to do anything more, there’s a sharp call of ‘Mum!’ from behind him. Faith has emerged from the front door, Shannon at her side.

Thank God.

The two teenage girls beckon me towards them and, as the officer turns between us, he sighs silently to himself, before opening the gate.

I meet my daughter halfway along the path. My instinct is to hug her tight but she’s not that sort of person.

‘We found a gun!’ Shannon says, excited, and apparently keen to share this information with anyone and everyone.

‘What do you mean?’ I reply, talking to my daughter.

‘We found a gun,’ Faith repeats, as if this is a normal occurrence.

She points past the house, towards the back and the woods beyond.

It’s not quite clear why she didn’t say this on the phone, other than that she sounds a lot calmer now.

I suppose the twenty-five minutes or so it took to get here has changed things.

‘It was a real gun,’ Faith adds.

‘A pistol, or…?’

‘I guess. One of the handgun things. I don’t know what sort.’

The girls turn, wanting me to follow as they head around the side of the large house. At some point, this was a farm. There’s an old cowshed near the front that’s never been demolished, while the main building is for an extended family of three or four generations.

It’s summer and the heat prickles as I trail my daughter and her friend towards the patch of browning grass at the back. A large shed sits at the end of the property, trees beyond, thick with green from the season, no fence separating the woods from the house.

Hardly anybody lives out here and it’s a good half-mile to the next house. A police officer is hanging around the treeline, typing something on his phone, and doesn’t notice as we stop next to a patio heater. ‘We were in the woods,’ Faith says. Any shakiness to her voice has gone.

‘There was some sort of noise,’ Shannon adds. ‘I think there was a squirrel.’

‘I thought it was a bird,’ Faith says, as they talk over one another. There’s a hint of giddy excitement from the pair, which is rare from my daughter nowadays.

‘Did you see it first?’ Faith asks.

‘I thought it was you.’

‘I guess we found it together,’ my daughter adds. ‘We sort of looked towards the squirrel, or bird – and there was a gun on the ground. It wasn’t hidden, or anything. Just right there.’

‘What did you do with it?’ I ask.

The two teenagers look to each other, as if trying to remember.

I know it’s because I’m her mum but, sometimes, Faith seems so young.

Not the person a year or so away from leaving school and heading into the huge, wide world; but that uncertain girl who objected to needing a car seat all the way through until she was twelve.

She’s that little girl now, face riddled by bemusement and, perhaps, a tickle of fear.

‘Did you pick it up?’ Faith asks.

‘No, you said we should call the police, in case there were fingerprints.’

Faith nods, though seems unsure. It can’t have been more than an hour ago.

‘I think I’m going to be murdered…’

The tape and its contents had disappeared as I raced across town to my daughter but, as I picture this gun, Mum’s voice is back at the front of my mind. If she thought she was going to be killed, did she mean she was going to be shot? How would she know ahead of time? Was she scared?

‘… Mum…?’ I blink back as I realise Faith has been talking to me. ‘Are you OK?’ she adds.

‘Sorry, I was thinking about something else.’

The two exchange a silent sideways glance but I know that look. I was seventeen once and there’s an assumption that everyone over the age of about thirty is senile and on the brink of being packed off to an old people’s home.

‘You don’t really see guns around here,’ I add quickly, trying to prove I’m somewhat in control of my senses.

‘Except for that time at the cinema,’ Faith replies.

I nod along, unsure what to add – because that’s the only time I’ve ever been in the vicinity of a gunshot. It’s not so much that I’d forgotten, more that I try not to think about things too much.

The police officer at the treeline looks up from his phone and squints towards us, probably wondering who I am.

Before he can object or say anything, the back door goes and Shannon’s mum emerges.

Nicola wipes her hands on her jeans, and nods towards the main gate.

‘I didn’t know if they’d let you past,’ she says.

‘I was going to have a word with the police guy but you’re already here. ’

Before I can reply, Faith skips around me, Shannon at her side. ‘We’ve a few things to sort out,’ Faith says, unprompted, before they disappear into the house.

Nicola nods towards the house as well, silently beckoning me inside, until we end up standing at opposite ends of her kitchen.

There’s a large Aga, and those sorts of thick wooden cupboard doors that catalogues describe as rustic.

Nicola’s house, but the kitchen in particular, has always felt very farmhouse chic.

There’s a clatter of footsteps on the ceiling above, then quiet, as Nicola and I watch the police officer through the window.

He’s pacing in a circle, still at the treeline, either talking on his phone or a radio.

‘Is Faith OK?’ Nicola asks.

‘I think so – but I can’t remember the last time she actually called me.’

That gets a short nod. ‘The girls were a bit freaked out when they got to the house. They were both talking at the same time, trying to tell me they’d found a gun.

I thought it was a weird joke, maybe a mistake.

Something like that. They took me into the woods – and there was a gun on the ground.

I think it was Faith who said we should call the police. ’

I consider that for a moment, proud my daughter had the foresight of what to do. When I next look up, the police officer is bounding towards the house with purpose. Nicola spots him as well and opens the back door, waiting in the frame as he stops a pace or two away.

‘The team’s got the gun,’ he says, poking a thumb over his shoulder. ‘They’ll be out in a minute.’

‘Is it real?’ Nicola asks. ‘I didn’t know if it might be an airgun, something like that.’

‘It looks real. I’m sure they’ll test it. You were definitely right to call. Did one of our lot ask you for more details?’

‘Not really.’

There’s an eyeroll that’s not quite complete. The sense that the officer is used to working with people he considers to be idiots. ‘Is the gun yours?’ he asks.

‘No. I wouldn’t know where to get one, even if I wanted one.’

‘Have you ever seen it before?’

‘No.’

He pokes another thumb towards the woods. ‘Is that your land?’

Nicola takes a moment. ‘I don’t actually know who owns it. It might be the council. We get dog walkers out there sometimes who accidentally end up in our garden. I could probably find out… I’ve got the deeds somewhere.’

The officer shakes his head. ‘It might not matter. Either way, you did the right thing by calling 999. We’ll take the gun and someone will be in touch if we have any other questions.’ He waits a moment, then adds, ‘Looks like it might’ve been dug up.’

Nicola puffs out a breath. ‘We do get foxes around here…’

The officer nods, then turns to head back towards the woods, leaving us alone in the kitchen. We wait in a stilted, bemused silence for a few seconds, before Nicola motions upstairs.

‘Do you want a tea? I think they’ll be a while up there.’

There’s something unsaid in the sense that the girls are quiet. I figured Faith was going to grab her things so we could go home. But perhaps my presence was requested only for those few minutes of uncertainty. Now the police have turned up, I am no longer required.

Faith and Shannon are on the same drama course and have been friends since they were little. They’ve always been able to sit in one of their various bedrooms and make hours disappear.

Either way, I’m here now – so I tell Nicola I’ll have a tea, and then take a seat at the kitchen table.

This is a semi-regular occurrence, although it is the first time there’s been a collection of police officers outside. Nicola sets the kettle boiling and then leans on the counter, watching the window.