‘What does that even mean?’
Lenny falls silent, stares up to the ceiling in search of an answer to the question posed. He realises he may be taking his cool detective persona past a place of no return. Guus’s right; that question doesn’t make any sense. If he keeps acting ambiguously, he’s either going to be run out of the house, or run out of time. He tilts his head back upright, places his mug back down on the table and then eyeballs his suspect.
‘I’m intrigued,’ he says, ‘why is the inside of your home so immaculate yet the outside is eh…’
‘Unkempt?’
Lenny nods his head once, then awaits an answer.
‘I don’t like people coming to my home. Shimple as that.’
‘Hold on. You own this massive house that you must have spent an awful lot of money on, have it looking supreme inside, but on the outside you make it look…’
‘Unwelcome.’
Lenny squelches up his nose. ‘Why?’
‘I mostly work from home, like to be left alone. I don’t like attention. Lotsh of different reasons. I don’t live in the garden, I live inside the house. This ish where I’d rather spend my money, my time, my efforts.’
Lenny squints.
‘You got something to hide?’ he asks.
‘You mean apart from the young girl I have hidden in the basement?’
Lenny blinks rapidly. His cool persona dissipating. He doesn’t know how to react to what’s just been said. He wonders why Guus kept such a straight face as he said it. He tries to shield his eyes with his hand, to hide his blinking tic, but he’s aware Guus has already sensed that the investigator has been stumped.
‘Lenny, if that’s all the questions for now, I’d like to get back to work. Tell Gordon I’m shorry to hear of his condition and that I hope he makes a full recovery.’
Guus walks towards the kitchen door, holds it open, readies himself for Lenny to move. But Lenny remains where he is.
‘I have another question for you, Guus.’
Guus brushes his hand through the air, signalling that Lenny should fire away.
‘When is the last time you maintained your garden… gave it a good clean up?’
‘Holy shit – are you a PI or a horticulturisht?’ Guus says, a creepy laugh seeping out of the side of his mouth again.
‘I’m a PI, and I’d like you to answer the question.’
Guus sniggers.
‘Probably seven or eight years ago. When I first moved in, I looked after it. It was messy when I moved in, I gave it a good going over and then decided I preferred it looking dilapidated because nobody used to call to the house when it was dilapidated, so I’ve let it grow out since.’
Lenny sits down, stares right through the man standing across from him.
‘So you cleaned up the whole garden when you moved in?’
Guus shrugs his shoulder.
‘As best I could, yesh,’ he says.
Lenny smirks, adrenaline starting to rise in his stomach again. It was moments like these he’d had ambitions of experiencing for years – ever since he was a teenager. He reaches inside his jacket pocket while eyeballing Guus.
‘So if you cleaned up your garden, why did I find this in it today?’ he says, sliding the doll’s arm across the table.
Guus stares down at the plastic arm, squints to work out what it is, then looks back up at Lenny before creasing into laughter.
‘Sure you could find anything out there. There’s lotsh of shit in my garden.’
Lenny sucks in both of his cheeks, then nods his head slowly.
‘But you said you cleaned up the garden after you moved in.’
Guus sighs, then strolls back to the kitchen table and sits down. He rubs his hand over his face.
‘I really don’t have time for this shit,’ he says. ‘Lishten, I gave the garden a once over when I moved in. My once over is fooking nothing. I cut down some bushes, trimmed parts of the garden. There is a whole load of shit out there that is probably lying there years. I don’t fooking know. What are you suggeshtin? You’re going to have me arrested because you found an old toy in my garden? Is this all you’ve got?’
Lenny stops himself from blinking; consciously stretching his eyes wide open. But he goes quiet, moot, as he tries to think of where he can go to from here. He thinks about the door in the hallway that leads down to the basement, then flicks his entire face when his next question pops into his head.
‘No, that’s not all I’ve got, Guus,’ he says.
Guus hangs out his bottom lip, shakes his head a little.
‘What… you’ve got a teddy bear in the other pocket?’ The volume of his laughter goes up five notches after he says this. Lenny doesn’t wince though. He doesn’t feel intimidated. He knows what’s coming next.
‘No – no more toys. Just records.’
‘Records?’ says Guus, still laughing.
‘Yep. Records of your online activity – records of your fascination with kiddie porn.’
14:25
Gordon
Michelle doesn’t answer my question. She just looks at me, then shifts her gaze to Elaine on the floor. Shit. Elaine. I turn around, offer her my hand. She allows me to help her to her feet.
‘I am so sorry, Elaine,’ I say. She keeps her gaze away from me as she steadies herself. What the fuck have I done? This young woman has done nothing but help me all morning.
‘What’s going on?’ Michelle finally pipes up. She removes her handbag from her shoulder, stares at me with wide eyes.
I hold my eyes tight closed for a few seconds, try to let everything wash over me.
‘Myself and Elaine here just had a little disagreement about how much time I’ve been spending on my phone; it’s nothing to worry about, Michelle.’
Elaine walks by me, heading for the doorway Michelle is standing in.
‘No, no… wait,’ I call out, holding a hand across her. ‘Please.’
She stands frozen. Then stares at my ex wife.
‘Gordon, let the nurse go,’ Michelle says.
I take my arm away, then clasp both of my palms together, as if I’m in prayer.
‘Elaine, Michelle… please,’ I beg. ‘Listen to me, both of you – I have something astonishing to tell you.’
Neither of them look at me, they’re too invested in each other’s faces; both of them wondering what the fuck I’m rambling on about.
‘Please,’ I beg again, ‘hear me out for two minutes.’
Michelle walks by both of us, places her handbag on the blue plastic chair and then sighs.
‘What have you got to tell us, Gordon?’ she says.
I look at Elaine, wait on her to turn around. She does. Slowly. I reach for the door, slap it closed, then make my way back towards my bed.
‘Just give me a sec,’ I say scratching at my temple. I want to get this out right but I have to let it all sink in. I perch on the side of my bed, then look up at both women. Michelle is a little drenched, her hair slightly matted to her shoulders, but she still looks good, still attractive. Even if there is strain splashed across her eye set. Elaine looks pained, disappointed. Disappointed in me, I guess. I need to speak up.
‘You’ll never guess what I’ve just heard,’ I say, then stop to gulp. ‘Guus Meyer – he took Betsy.’
I look down on the floor, afraid to witness the reaction of Michelle. I can sense her looking over at Elaine and rolling her eyes. But there’s silence. A very strange silence. As if I didn’t say anything at all.
‘I had a private investigator dig deep into Betsy’s disappearance and he found out that Guus was involved. He’s out in his house interviewing him now. I couldn’t just lie here and die without… without…’ I hold my hand up to my face, try to stop the tears from spilling out of my eyes, but it’s a hopeless task.
Elaine’s the first to react. She takes three steps towards me, places her hand on my shoulder and helps me to lie down flat on the bed. I use my feet to scoot myself backwards, so
that I’m sitting up, my back against the bed rail.
I know Michelle is silent, but I can hear her thoughts. She thinks I’m a fucking madman. That I’m making this all up.
‘Gordon,’ Elaine whispers towards me, ‘I have to go now to speak with Mr Douglas about your surg—’
‘No, no,’ I say, panicking. I pinch at Elaine’s scrubs, hold her sleeve between my clenched fingers. ‘Please – you can’t do that. These surgeries have to go ahead. You can’t just let me die.’
She stares at me, her pity eyes larger than ever. She looks as if she’s going to cry too.
‘We had a deal, Gordon. You said you would relax and now—’
‘Can somebody tell me what the hell is going on?’ Michelle screeches out from behind Elaine.
I swallow down some tears, hold both of my palms out to face the two women.
‘Elaine,’ I say slowly, ‘this is Michelle – my ex-wife.’
Elaine purses her lips at Michelle, then nods before turning back to me.
‘Gordon is in need of emergency surgeries on his heart. He is due to go down for these surgeries in about twenty minutes, but that’s totally dependent on his heart rate remaining stable.’
Michelle folds her arms, stares at Elaine, not at me.
‘Is it true that he only has a fifty per cent chance of surviving these surgeries?’ she asks.
Elaine sticks out her bottom lip and then nods her head slowly.
‘I’m afraid that’s the ratio,’ she says. ‘The more stable his heart rate going into these surgeries, the more his chances of survival rise. But… but…’ she stutters.
‘But he hasn’t been able to remain stable because he’s been cooking up conspiracy theories about our daughter’s disappearance,’ Michelle says.
Elaine confirms Michelle’s assumption with a slight sigh and a shrug of her shoulder.
I hold my hand to my face again, my head thumping from all angles; both temples, the crown, the tops of my eyes. I have to stop Elaine from ratting me out to Douglas. I have to tell my wife that our daughter might be found today. I have to get on to Lenny, see what the fuck he’s found. Jesus Christ. Where do I even begin? I swing my legs over the side of the bed again and attempt to stand. But Michelle steps between me and Elaine, holds her hand to my chest.
‘You’re going nowhere,’ she says, bossing me about just like she used to. ‘Are these surgeries at three o’clock?’ she asks Elaine.
‘They were supposed to be, but…’ Elaine purses her lips again. I’m fucking sick of her pursing her lips.
‘Please,’ Michelle says rubbing at the side of Elaine’s arm with her other hand, ‘make sure the surgeries go ahead. He’s too young to die. I’ll see to it that he relaxes now and when he makes it out of the surgeries I’ll make sure he’s looked after.’
I actually feel my heart almost mend. Nobody has said anything nice to me in years. Jesus, I miss Michelle so much. I place my hand on top of the one she has resting on my chest.
‘Thank you,’ I say. She doesn’t respond. She’s more interested in what Elaine has to say than what I have to say.
Elaine pinches the bridge of her nose with her index finger and thumb, stares down at her feet.
‘I’ll give you two five minutes alone. If you can do your best, Michelle, to steady him ahead of surgery, that’ll at least give him a fighting chance.’
She looks at me, says nothing, then heads for the door.
I take Michelle’s hand, place it aside before planting my feet on the floor.
‘Elaine,’ I say, walking towards her. She turns around. I take two steps then throw my arms around her and breathe in her hair. ‘I’m so sorry.’
She leans off me, purses her lips right in my face, then spins around and walks out the door.
Michelle reaches out for my elbow, helps me back to my bed.
‘Chelle,’ I say, settling my back comfortably against the bed rail again, ‘I hired a PI called Lenny Moon – he’s—’
I stop talking when Michelle holds her eyes shut and sighs through her nostrils. I’ve already pissed her off and I haven’t even finished my first sentence.
‘I know,’ she says, opening her eyes. ‘He paid me a visit. Gordon, you need to listen to me now. You have to calm down, your life depends on it.’
‘But he has informa—’
‘Gordon, stop!’ she raises her voice.
‘Michelle, look, it makes sense. Guus fucking Meyer. Of course he took Betsy; it meant I would lose interest in the business, that he would be able to take it over.’
Michelle places her hand over my mouth.
‘Gordon, honestly, you need to stop. You need to let it all go.’
I try to talk but only a mumble comes out, so hard is Michelle’s hand pressed against my lips.
‘Listen to me, and listen to me carefully, okay?’ she says, craning her neck so she can stare straight down into my eyes. She places her cold hands either side of my face, holding my head still. ‘Betsy. Is. Dead.’
Five years ago
Betsy
I feel really sad when I stare back at Sana’s message.
How may I assist you, Betsy Blake? Do you need help downloading the latest software update?
I thought she might know who I am. Thought she might know the girl who has been in the newspapers and on the news on the TV. It takes me ages to type back to her.
Do you know me?
I stare at the screen. I can’t wait to see what she says back. I tap my fingers against the back of the kindle until her reply comes up on the screen.
I’m sorry. Would you like help downloading the latest software update?
Ah fuck, no, no, no!
‘I don’t think everybody watches the TV and the newspapers,’ I say to Bozy. Bozy just stares back at me. I’m not sure what I should type back to Sana. I hang my fingers over the letters for ages. Hitting buttons and then deleting them.
Betsy; are you still available to chat? Here are the details for the software update.
I try to read everything Sana has sent me but it doesn’t make sense. It is really long. Really, really long.
Betsy, you haven’t answered in a long time. Please get in touch with our representatives on 1800 852 852 should you need further assistance.
’No, no, no,’ I shout as I type at the keyboard and hit send.
Hkjsuy sihkh
I just wanted to type something. Anything to let her know I’m still here. ‘Oh, Bozy,’ I say, climbing back up to my bed beside him. I keep the Kindle on my lap.
Betsy - please call the helpline. Goodbye. And Happy Christmas.
The Kindle screen goes blank. I let out a big, big breath and then cuddle into Bozy. I feel really sad that Sana has gone. But I also feel really excited. That was the first time I’ve spoken to anybody other than Dod since I was four. I decide I must practice how to type, in case that message thingy ever comes up again. Next time, I’ll be ready.
I press at the screen of my Kindle. The box that Sana’s words were on is gone. There are just words saying:
Software update needed.
It won’t let me go to the page where all my books are. This Christmas is getting worse and worse. I have nothing to do. I crawl out of bed, walk over to my book shelves and look at all the books on there.
‘No. Too baby-ish. No. Too baby-ish. No. No. No. No. Hmmmmm. No.’
I keep saying no at every book I see. Then I let out a really big yawn and when it is finished I feel tears in my eyes. I fall down onto my knees and let the tears pour out. Then I bang my hands onto the floor. I just want to get all of the sadness out. Maybe if I get it all out, I might feel happy again. I was stupid robbing Dod’s newspaper articles. Because I was the happiest girl I ever was when he used to let me upstairs to look out his window. And now here I am, in my basement doing nothing all the time. If I’m not sleeping, I’m yawning. Every day seems to go really, really slowly.
My crying gets louder and louder as I lie on the floor
. I can feel my whole body shake as I cry. Then the key rattles in the door.
‘Betsy, Betsy, what’s wrong?’ Dod walks down the steps quickly. I don’t raise my head to look at him. I’m still bent over on my knees with my head on the floor.
His arms lift me up.
‘What’s wrong, sweetheart?’ he says.
He takes my hands away from my face. Then he rubs his fingers under my eyes, wipes up some of the tears.
‘This,’ I say, then cry again. ‘Is. The. Worst. Christmas. Ever.’ I sob in between each word until my sentence comes out.
He holds me close and suddenly I don’t feel so sad anymore. This is the first time he has hugged me in ten months, since he beat me up for finding the newspaper article.
After a really, really long hug, Dod lifts me up a bit and puts me on the edge of the bed. Then he sits beside me.
‘It’s been a pretty shit Christmas for me too,’ he says.
I look up at him.
‘I’m so sorry, Dod. I am sorry for everything. I shouldn’t have taken your newspaper articles. I was really bad. You were right to get really angry and beat me up. I will never do anything like that again. I promise. I promise. I promise. I just want us to be friends. I hate it when we don’t talk.’
Dod puts his arm around me and drags me into him. Then he kisses the top of my head.
‘Those articles weren’t about you,’ he says. ‘That’s another little girl. And… I hate it when we don’t talk too. I want us to be friends.’
I get away from his arm and look at him.
‘The newspapers weren’t about me?’
He laughs a little bit.
‘Betsy; I’ve told you this before. You weren’t the little girl taken. Your Mummy and Daddy died, so I had to look after you. You know this. I told you this before.’
I don’t think I believe him. I remember him taking me. I remember being on the wall and walking and then Dod putting his hand on my mouth and around my legs. He took me when I was looking at my Daddy. My Mummy and Daddy weren’t dead when he took me. But I really don’t care. I hold up both my arms and then wrap them around Dod. I need him to be my friend. I hate living if I’m not friends with Dod. The days are really, really bad when we aren’t friends.
Whatever Happened to Betsy Blake? Page 21
