The Reservoir Tapes

No, absolutely. None of this will

You can decide, afterwards, you can reconsider.

I just want to help you tell your side of the story.

Absolutely.

So. If we can

You realised she was out of sight. You waited. She didn’t appear. You had already talked about cutting the walk short anyway so

one of you wanted to

You waited, and she didn’t appear. You went back to the top of the path leading up out of the clough, the valley, and you couldn’t see her there.

And you called for her, presumably?

You looked to see where she was, if she might be hiding?

At what point did you start to actually become concerned?

And the weather was turning?

How long would you say you were looking before you decided to fetch help?

And your phone

So you had to come back

You came down

And you

This is

I know

I’m sorry

Could you

are you able to say what happened next?

2: Vicky (#uf337ae0c-ca6e-52ce-ba66-0b2125be437f)

The first Vicky knew about it was when the girl’s parents came bursting into the pub.

The two of them were both talking at once and it took a minute to work out what they were saying. They couldn’t find her, was the gist of it.

Their anoraks were covered in mud, so it wasn’t much of a leap to guess they meant someone was missing on the hills. Tony had Mountain Rescue on the phone while they were still getting their breath back. Vicky could feel herself tensing up, the way she did, now, at any mention of emergency services.

She’s thirteen, they said. Her name’s Becky. We only lost sight of her for a moment and then she vanished. We’ve looked everywhere.

Tony told them Mountain Rescue were asking for locations, and they didn’t seem to have a clue. They’d been trying to get to Black Bull Rocks, they told him.

Vicky was sitting near the bar, with Graham. Black Bull Rocks was at the far eastern end of the ridge, above the visitor centre where Vicky and Graham worked. Graham caught her eye. In this weather? they were both thinking. At this time of year?

Some of the people who came here had no idea what they were doing on the hills. Vicky dealt with a fair number of them at the visitor centre: people who didn’t know how to read a map, or think to check the weather forecast. People who assumed there would be a mobile-phone signal when they got lost. At least if they called in to the centre there was a chance to set them straight. It was the ones who marched straight past they had to worry about. And she did worry, often.

Tony held the phone away from his ear and said Mountain Rescue were asking for a description, and the parents looked stumped for a minute.

She’s about this tall, the father said, holding his hand just beneath his chin. Dark-blonde hair, down to her shoulders. No glasses. She looks older than thirteen. She’s wearing a white hooded top and a navy-blue body-warmer. Black jeans and canvas shoes.

Canvas shoes.

The mother wasn’t saying anything much. She looked lost. She looked like someone who had just stood next to a loud noise and was waiting for her hearing to come back.

Tony got finished on the phone and said things would get sorted quickly now, and not to worry. Someone from Mountain Rescue would be in and wanting to take them out in the Land Rover, he said. He told them there was a back room available, so they could sit in peace. He nodded at one of the other staff to sort some drinks, asking them what they wanted.

Her name’s Becky, the mother suddenly said. Becky Shaw. Rebecca, really.

Don’t worry, Tony said, as he started leading them off. They’re good lads, Mountain Rescue. They know what they’re doing. They’ll find her.

Vicky thought he might regret saying that. She had a bad feeling already. She got these feelings. It really wasn’t Tony’s place to go offering that kind of a promise.

*

Of course, people started talking then, once Tony had the parents in the back room. The family had been staying up at the Hunters’ new barn conversions, Irene said. She remembered the girl from back in the summer. Irene did the cleaning for most of the holiday lets in the village, and she tended to pick things up as she went. She said the family were from somewhere down south, and she wasn’t sure what the parents did but they seemed like the professional type. Both of them working, so the girl must have been used to going off on her own. She spent a lot of time with Sophie, the Hunters’ daughter. Same age, give or take.

Martin Fowler chipped in and said he remembered the two of them hanging around the village as well. Used to see them with the Broad lad, he said, and Sean Hooper’s son, and what’s his name, Deepak. She was a livewire, someone else said. There was talk of them messing around at the reservoirs. They’d been seen swimming at the quarry.

This type of conversation went on for a while.

One thing Vicky had learnt when she moved up here was that people liked to talk. Information got around quickly, and if people didn’t have actual facts they seemed very capable of filling in the gaps. She’d more than once had to deny being pregnant, after being seen with orange juice in the pub. Saying she didn’t drink wasn’t enough of an answer. Eventually she’d just announced that she was a recovering alcoholic every time someone tried to buy her a pint. That usually put a stop to the questions.

Assumptions were made about her and Graham as well. We’re just colleagues, actually, she often had to say. We’ve known each other a while, we’re good friends, but that’s all. People sometimes had an infuriating way of nodding patiently when she said this, but she’d learnt to let it go.

*

She’d known Graham for a long time. They’d been at college together, when they were younger. They’d studied conservation management, but when the course finished he was the one who moved up to Derbyshire and found actual conservation work. She moved down to London instead, where she worked in bars, went to a lot of parties, and got into a bit of trouble. They kept in touch, on and off. He told her about the work he was doing for the National Park, and encouraged her to visit. She told him stories about what she was up to in London. She’d thought they were funny stories, at the time, but his responses often involved asking if she was really okay.

She never knew how he’d found her in the hospital. She just knew that each time she woke up, and remembered what had happened all over again, he was there. He told her he’d thought something like this was going to happen, and she told him there was no need to be a smart-arse about it.

It hurt when she laughed, for a long time.

People asked, later, what it had felt like to be in a car crash, and she had to say that she had no idea. It wasn’t frightening. She didn’t feel any pain. She was lifted out through the window of her car. She was wet all over, and very cold. There were flashing blue lights. She could remember getting into a fight at a party, but nothing after that. There were a lot of fights, in those days. She wasn’t a good person to be around. People round here wouldn’t believe it, if they knew.

By the time she got out of the hospital, Graham had persuaded her to leave London and move up here. He told her she needed to clear her head, to get back to doing something she loved and get some fresh air in her lungs. He didn’t really take no for an answer. She was surprised by his directness, and she went along with it because she didn’t know what else to do. He was the only one who’d come to see her in the hospital.