I Have No Secrets

by Penny Joelson

  But looking from Mum to Paula, my heart sinks. The desperation in Paula’s eyes. Mum will just think it’s Paula’s grief – that she’s trying to make things fit together so she can have an answer.

  ‘They’re speaking to everyone on the street,’ Mum says, softly but firmly. ‘Richard says Sarah got out of his car just outside the house around half past eleven on Saturday night. The police want to know if anyone heard or saw anything.’

  ‘Yes,’ says Paula. ‘That’s what they asked us. But we’re both on sleeping tablets, you see. Don’t get a wink otherwise – not since . . . you know. Do you really think she just went off ?’

  ‘I don’t know what to think,’ says Mum. She pours tea for Paula and then goes back to chopping the carrots loudly. ‘Have you had any news yourselves, about . . . about Ryan?’

  Paula sighs deeply and runs her finger round the rim of her mug.

  ‘Nothing,’ she says. ‘I got my hopes up when they charged that Jay. He was Ryan’s regular dealer, and they had a falling out about money or something. But Jay was out of town – he proved it. The more time goes by the less likely I think it is that they’ll get him.’ She looks up. ‘Though perhaps now . . .’

  The doorbell rings again.

  ‘Goodness, we’re popular tonight!’ Mum exclaims.

  She turns a pan down on the stove and excuses herself. The smell of mince frying wafts over me as she goes out into the hall.

  Paula meets my eye briefly for a moment and looks as if she might say something, but then thinks better of it. People do that a lot.

  Mum’s voice is loud with surprise as she opens the front door.

  ‘Oh, Dan . . .’ I hear her say.

  26

  I can’t believe he’s here. I feel suddenly cold, so cold.

  Mum is talking to him as he follows her into the kitchen. ‘We wanted to call you,’ she’s saying, ‘but we couldn’t find your number.’

  ‘Call me? Why? Has something happened?’ Dan asks, as he comes into the room. ‘I –’ He stops when he sees Paula. He doesn’t look at me at all. ‘Paula, this is Dan – Sarah’s boyfriend,’ says Mum. She runs her hand across her brow. Her eyes are wide with shock. If Dan’s here that means Sarah’s not run off with him.

  Paula nods.

  ‘Dan, this is my neighbour, Paula,’ Mum continues.

  Dan nods back. Does he realise who Paula is?

  ‘What’s going on?’ Dan asks. ‘Sarah’s phone’s been off. I came over to see her.’

  ‘Oh, Dan,’ says Mum, her voice shaking. ‘She isn’t here. We haven’t seen her since Saturday. Have you not heard from her at all?’

  ‘No. What’s going on?’

  Dan turns his head to look at Mum and I can’t see his face. I wish I could. Surely his expression would give him away.

  Paula stands up, her chair scraping the floor noisily in her haste. ‘I’d better be going,’ she says. ‘I do hope she turns up.’

  ‘Turns up?’ Dan repeats. He looks at Paula and I see a crease spread across his forehead. I watch him closely. He definitely looks surprised to hear that Sarah is missing. There are beads of sweat on his forehead. Does he really know nothing or is this all an act?

  ‘I’ll see Paula off then I’ll tell you everything, Dan,’ Mum says.

  For a moment I am alone with Dan. I wish he’d say something – confide in me. I watch him. His hands don’t keep still – he’s rubbing his fingers together.

  Mum is back. Phlegm clogs my throat and I cough.

  ‘Dan, the police have been looking for you,’ Mum tells him.

  He seems nervous now, his feet shuffling. His eyes flash in alarm.

  ‘What? Why?’ he asks.

  ‘You haven’t seen or heard from her then, Dan – not since Saturday? We thought she might have been with you . . .’

  Dan shakes his head. ‘No.’

  ‘Sarah was at a concert on Saturday night and didn’t come back here. No one’s seen her since. Sit down, Dan – this must be a shock. I’ll make you a tea.’

  Dan moves towards a chair and leans on the back of it, but he doesn’t sit down. ‘A concert? I thought she was working last weekend.’

  It’s Mum’s turn to shuffle about awkwardly.

  I look at Dan. I’m sure this is an act. He’s challenging Mum to confirm what he knows – that Sarah was two-timing him.

  ‘She went with a friend – actually, her ex, Richard. I think he must have got tickets for it ages ago. She probably felt she had to go – you know what she’s like!’

  ‘Right,’ says Dan, with an edge to his voice. ‘So I assume the police have been questioning him, then?’

  ‘Yes,’ Mum says. ‘He was the last person to see her, but I don’t think they . . . They want to speak to you too. You’ll call them, won’t you?’

  Dan’s gaze is steady. ‘Of course,’ he says.

  27

  I spend all the next day wondering what will happen when Dan talks to the police. He has to call them, doesn’t he? But one thing we know now is that Sarah hasn’t run off with him. Could she have left on her own? Would she really do that? Or has something else happened – something I can’t bear to even think about?

  When I get home from school, I’m surprised to find Sheralyn, my swimming volunteer, waiting for me. Mum says when she told the head teacher at my school what had happened, she said Sheralyn might be able to help out as she’s done care work before. It turns out she’s still registered with the agency Mum uses and she was keen to help. I’m glad it’s Sheralyn, but at the same time having her here only makes me want Sarah back more, if that’s possible. Sarah has been missing for five days.

  Sheralyn decides to take me for a walk to the shopping centre. Maybe she’s trying to take my mind off things, but I hate the shopping centre. Too many people staring. They either look appalled or desperately sorry for me. There’s always some kid with a finger up one nose pointing at me with the other hand and saying, ‘What’s wrong with her?’ Sarah used to bring me here a lot, but I think she sensed all the comments were upsetting me and we stopped coming so often.

  As we reach the shops I recognise a man who is walking towards us. It’s Dan’s friend Billy. I see him look and recognise me, but he just walks straight past. It’s the total opposite to what he was like before. Of course, he doesn’t know Sheralyn, but would it hurt to stop and say hello?

  As we reach the more crowded shopping area, I start thinking about my sister. She doesn’t live that far away. What if she was here, now, walking round the shops? I wonder if I would recognise her from the photo. I’m looking at every girl and wondering if she could be her. That girl with dark hair looks too tall. This one has a kind face but her hair is too light.

  Ahead there is a woman with blond hair, tied back in a ponytail, walking away from us. My heart suddenly skips a beat. Sarah. She looks like Sarah. She really could be – she could be Sarah! She’s walking faster than us – she’s disappearing into the crowd. Wait!

  She doesn’t wait. She’s gone. It couldn’t have been Sarah, could it? If she’s run away, she wouldn’t still be round here. She’d be worried about being spotted. I don’t think she walked quite like Sarah either. I have a lingering hope, though. Maybe it was her. Maybe she’s on her way home. Perhaps she’s popped into the shops to buy some flowers – or something to give Mum, to give all of us, to say sorry for all the worry she’s caused.

  She doesn’t need to say sorry to me. I’d forgive her for getting us all so worried if she only came home.

  ‘Hey – wait!’ a woman calls. Sheralyn stops and swings me round. The woman has short grey hair. She must be sixty or seventy. What does she want?

  ‘Here, take this for the poor lass,’ the woman says. She holds out a ten-pound note.

  I can’t see Sheralyn’s face, as she is pushing me, but I hear the shock in her voice.

  ‘No – really, that’s very kind, but –’

  ‘Please, dear,’ says the woman. ‘I insist – take it.’ />
  The money has gone from the woman’s hand. I’m not a charity. Sarah would never have done that. She would have explained that I am well looked after – that I have what I need. I don’t need strangers giving me money in the street. I’m not a desperate homeless person.

  ‘Sorry, Jemma,’ Sheralyn says quietly as the woman disappears in the crowd. ‘That was so embarrassing. I didn’t know what to say. I’ll put the money in a charity box.’

  When we get back, I am still feeling cross about the woman treating me like a charity case. Mum’s upstairs with Finn and Olivia but Sheralyn takes over with them and Mum comes down. She’s holding something – a letter!

  ‘Jemma, I’ve got another letter for you from Jodi,’ she says.

  I can feel my heart beating faster as Mum begins to read.

  ‘Dear Jemma,

  ‘This is just a short note to say I am so excited about meeting you on Sunday! I can’t wait and I can’t think about anything else! Your mum was so lovely on the phone – she’s told me all about you. I hope you are as excited as I am! I’m counting the days and the hours and the minutes!

  ‘Love, Jodi x x x.’

  Mum folds the letter and looks at me.

  ‘Jemma, I’d forgotten we arranged this. I wonder if we should postpone it . . .’

  ‘No!’ I want to yell. I know everything with Sarah is awful, but I want to meet Jodi so much. I need something good to happen and this is going to be it. I must meet my sister.

  ‘Then again,’ says Mum, ‘we don’t want to let Jodi down. This is such a big deal for both of you. Maybe it will take your mind off things.’

  Mum sighs. I’m relieved. I just hope she doesn’t change her mind again.

  When I get back from school the next day, Olivia’s already home and she’s jumping up and down with excitement. My heart races. Is it Sarah – is she back? I’ve been full of excitement myself all day about meeting Jodi on Sunday, but Olivia can’t be excited about that.

  ‘Guess what?’ she says, bounding up to me. ‘I took a photo of Sarah to school and I showed it round to see if anyone had seen her – and Ruby Jones says she saw her in Tesco!’

  ‘Don’t get your hopes up too high, Olivia,’ Mum says gently. ‘It was probably someone who looks like Sarah.’

  So Sarah is not back. I get a pang of guilt for feeling happy about meeting Jodi when Sarah is still missing.

  ‘It was her,’ Olivia insists. ‘Ruby said she was sure! You weren’t there so how can you know?’

  ‘It might have been Sarah that Ruby saw,’ Mum acknowledges. ‘It also might not.’

  ‘It was her,’ Olivia insists again.

  I wish it was. I wish so much that it was Sarah who Ruby saw in Tesco and that I saw in the shopping centre.

  During dinner, the phone rings. Dad answers it.

  ‘Oh, Kate! Hello,’ he says. ‘Any news? How are you coping?’

  ‘Tell her Ruby saw Sarah,’ Olivia demands. ‘She’ll want to know. You must tell her.’

  ‘Shhhh! Wait,’ Mum whispers. ‘Let’s find out why she’s rung first.’

  ‘You have? Really?’ says Dad. ‘Do any of them seem likely?’

  Likely? What could that mean?

  I can’t see Dad’s face, but I can see how eagerly Mum and Olivia are watching him. Finn is tapping his fork on his plate. Tap, tap, tap, over and over.

  I wish he’d stop.

  Dad says something about a card. And then, ‘That’s typical.’

  ‘What’s she saying?’ Olivia demands. ‘Have they found Sarah or what? Tell her about Ruby. Ruby saw her!’

  ‘Shhhh!’ Mum tells her, putting her finger to her lips.

  ‘That sounds like an excellent idea,’ Dad continues, after listening for a few moments. ‘Of course we’ll help in any way we can. Just let us know.’

  He puts the phone down. Mum looks at him questioningly.

  ‘Why didn’t you tell her?’ Olivia shouts. She stands up and kicks her chair over.

  ‘Stop that, Olivia!’ Dad says firmly. ‘Sit down and listen if you want to know what Kate said.’

  Olivia hesitates, but she does want to know. She picks up her chair and sits down.

  ‘Kate’s started a social media campaign and she’s already had a few people contact her with sightings,’ Dad tells Mum.

  ‘See – I told you Ruby saw her!’ Olivia interrupts. ‘I told you and you didn’t believe it.’

  ‘The first few didn’t sound likely,’ Dad continues, ‘but now there’ve been three quite close together – all within ten miles of here – that do sound possible. The most interesting news is that the police say Sarah’s cash card was used two days ago to withdraw a hundred pounds – and the cashpoint is in Watford, not far from those three sightings.’

  Sarah’s taken money from a cashpoint. That must mean she’s alive, mustn’t it? Or is this Dan trying to throw people off the scent?

  ‘Goodness,’ says Mum. ‘Was there CCTV at the cashpoint?’

  ‘The camera near the cashpoint wasn’t working and they couldn’t see anyone matching her description on the other nearby cameras – though they’re still going through the footage. The police think it’s a good sign. Her phone was last used at the concert itself so that hasn’t been much help. Kate is certainly hopeful, though.’

  ‘It was her,’ says Olivia firmly.

  ‘Kate’s put Sarah’s details on the Missing People charity web page. If someone doesn’t want to be found they can still leave a message on there, just so family and friends know they are OK. She’s getting some posters done and she’s asked if we’ll help put them up around here.’

  ‘I’ll help!’ says Olivia.

  If Sarah’s been seen, if she’s used a cashpoint, then it truly sounds possible that she chose to leave. I want her to be alive even though it’s hard to bear the thought that she left us like that – that she was so unhappy. I can’t bear this much longer, this limbo.

  Later, Mum gets out the nail polish remover and takes off my now chipped nail varnish. I keep thinking about Sarah putting it on me so carefully, so kindly. I can see her sparkly eyes, her excitement about the concert. I don’t want Mum to take it off – it connects me to Sarah and without it I feel like Sarah is even further away. But soon the nail varnish has gone and only the strong smell of the remover lingers, making me cough. I wonder if anyone will ever paint my nails again.

  28

  It is a week since Sarah went missing. A whole week.

  Kate has come down with piles of posters and we are going round the streets putting them up. I’ve never met Kate before. She doesn’t look like Sarah. She is much shorter and her face is narrower. Her hair is dark and Sarah’s is fair. She has lines on her face. She looks much older than Sarah.

  ‘Hi, Jemma, nice to meet you,’ she says, smiling a little awkwardly. I jolt at the way she speaks. Her voice is so similar it could be Sarah.

  Dad wasn’t sure about all of us coming, but Olivia was determined to help.

  I am ‘parked’ in front of a lamp post where the first poster has been stuck. It is weird seeing Sarah’s face smiling down. Is she smiling somewhere now? I can’t picture what she’s doing, where she might be. It’s just a blank. Kate seems so confident that the sightings were really her and that she’s alive. Could it be true? Could it?

  Dad asks Kate if the police have followed up the sightings and the cashpoint.

  ‘They’re still not sure if it was her,’ Kate admits, ‘but there’s no proof that it wasn’t, either.’

  ‘And Ruby Jones saw her too!’ Olivia pipes up.

  ‘Yes, so you said,’ says Kate. ‘Any sighting might help – it’s good that she told you.’

  Once the posters are up, I am disappointed to see most people going past without even looking at them. If they look at all it is such a quick glance that they can’t really take in her face – can they?

  Sheralyn is with me and is supposed to be watching Finn too. To make him feel useful Dad has given him a wa
d of posters to hold, while Olivia is handing Dad bits of tape. Sheralyn is watching Olivia. No one apart from me has noticed that Finn is now lining up his posters neatly on the pavement against the fence. He has more than I thought – at least ten faces of Sarah staring up from the ground – and I can see what’s going to happen. It’s not that windy, but it will only take a bit of a breeze. Please, Sheralyn – look back! Look at Finn!

  She does – but too late. A gust lifts the corner of one sheet, then another and suddenly they are all flittering up in the air – spreading across the pavement.

  Finn lets out an anguished cry and starts flapping his arms – his neat work undone.

  ‘Oh! Finn!’ Sheralyn exclaims.

  He makes no effort to pick them up – just watches as Sheralyn, Dad and Olivia quickly try to gather them. Some are flapping into the road like injured birds. Olivia runs to the edge of the kerb.

  ‘Olivia – not in the road!’ Dad yells, and to my relief Olivia stops.

  A car runs over a poster and even from here I can see tyre marks on it.

  ‘I could have got that one!’ Olivia tells Dad crossly.

  Mum and Kate are further down the road. I can’t see them, but I hear Kate’s voice. They must have seen and come back to help. I only see Kate when she steps into the road and retrieves the poster with the tyre marks. She stands on the pavement in front of me, staring at it and brushing it with her hand, as if the tyre marks might rub off. Tears run down her face.

  As we head home, it begins to rain – just to make everyone more miserable – and no one has an umbrella. Although they are in plastic sleeves, the posters will be dripping and bedraggled before anyone even sees them. Mum and Sheralyn struggle to get my showerproof cape over me, but I am already very wet. The chill dampness has seeped through to my skin, making me shiver. Raindrops tickle my face like insects and I wish I could wipe them away.

  When we reach the house, Mum says Kate can’t go home on the train all that way, soaked through. She insists she lend her some clothes and invites Kate to stay for dinner.