by Carla Kovach
Two
Wednesday, 13 November 2019
Mary walked her crying grandson around the small cottage to the background tones of ‘Baby Shark’ – a song that was increasingly getting on her nerves. ‘Shush, Rory. Mummy will be back soon.’ She wished she believed what she was saying. Since the phone call from Rory’s nursery last night, she’d been looking after her grandson and calling Susan on constant redial. Her stomach fluttered just like back then, all those years ago.
Toys littered every room, toys that she and Howard really had no room for after downsizing.
She noticed that the front door was open. Mary picked up Rory and ran into the hallway. It had to be Susan. ‘Oh, it’s you.’
Howard popped his head around the corner of his study, threw a few computer leads onto his desk and came back out. His mop of grey hair flopped forward over his eyes as he rubbed his stubbly chin. ‘You alright, love? I had to grab a few cables for one of my jobs.’ He smiled at Rory and pinched his chubby cheek. ‘Heard anything yet?’
Tears slid down Rory’s red cheeks, his curls sodden and stuck to his face. Howard stuck his tongue out and crossed his eyes and Rory broke into a chuckle.
‘No. I’m worried about her.’ Mary stared at the top of the little boy’s head and hugged him closely as once again he began to cry.
‘I know you are, love. Let’s just try not to jump to conclusions though. We know how stressed she’s been. Shall I take him while you try to call her again?’ He took the crying toddler from her and set him on his feet, pulling another face. Rory tried to hide his smile, tears instantly forgotten. Mary loved how the grandchildren’s faces always lit up when they saw Howard pulling one of his many silly faces. ‘I tell you what, I’ll pour us a glass of wine, shall I? Shall we get Nanny a glass of red?’ Rory nodded and dragged Howard towards the kitchen as he sucked on his knuckle.
She shook her head. ‘Best not. Just take him to the kitchen for a minute. I’m calling the police.’
‘We’ve been through this, Mum,’ Clare said as she breezed past, holding a tub of ice cream with a spoon sticking out of the top. ‘It’s only been a day and it’s not like this is a first, remember.’
The lounge door burst open and Mary felt as though her head might explode as ‘Baby Shark’ could be heard at full volume. Clare’s toddler, Harrison, danced and screamed. ‘Ice cream, ice cream. I want some. Mummy, ice cream!’ He reached up to grab the spoon, knocking it flying across the hallway, splattering a dollop up the magnolia wall. As the song came to an end, Harrison turned back to the lounge, staring at the television. ‘Again, Mummy. “Baby Shark”!’
Mary shook her head. After coming back to the family home a year earlier, her oldest daughter had turned her peaceful haven upside down. Harrison never slept or settled and the noise was constant, even leading to her neighbours complaining. Mary slammed the lounge door as Harrison stepped back into the room. ‘She’s not answering her phone and she hasn’t been in touch for a whole day. She wouldn’t abandon Rory. I should have called them yesterday. What the hell was I thinking?’
‘You know her. She’s struggling at the moment. Susan copes by having time out. Do you really think we should call the police yet?’ Clare casually leaned against the wall.
‘That was a long time ago! I know Susan. Yes. I do think we should call the police. She would never leave Rory at nursery. I can’t believe I let you and Howard persuade me to wait this long.’ Mary looked sternly at her daughter. Even though the sisters had had their major differences, she thought that Clare would see how unusual this was and worry. ‘Can you keep the noise down while I phone them? Turn that flipping racket off before I lose it.’
Rory ran up to her and began to sob again. ‘Want. Mummy. Where Mummy?’
Mary held him close and stroked his hair. ‘Mummy loves you and she’ll be home soon. Nanny promises.’
Harrison burst through the door. ‘Mummy, look. I’m a car. Brum, brum.’
‘Harrison, get your pyjamas on. It’s bedtime,’ Mary snapped. Harrison needed discipline and her daughter wasn’t giving him any.
‘But I want ice cream, Nanny.’
Mary snatched the ice cream from Clare’s hand and thrust it at Howard’s chest. Her husband looked away, trying not to get in the middle of one of their arguments. He left them in the hallway, only popping back to pass his wife the phone. Harrison cried like it was the end of the world. ‘Now get him ready for bed, Clare. He’s two, for heaven’s sake.’ She knew full well that getting Harrison into bed would be near impossible but she needed to see that her daughter was making an effort.
Clare tutted and picked up her screaming son. The boy began to pound his half-clenched fists into her back as he resisted bedtime. ‘Ice cream, ice cream, ice cream…’
‘Here, can you take Rory? I’ll put him to bed after I call the police.’ Mary passed Rory to Howard. Rory was her little angel, always a delight to look after.
‘Come on, little man. Do you want to watch something on the TV?’ Rory snuggled into Howard’s chest as they went into the lounge.
Mary hurried to the kitchen, fingers hovering over the number pad on the phone. Just one more time. She had to try Susan again. As she went to call, her phone lit up. ‘Ryan? Is everything okay?’
‘Yes. I still have the girls. Can I speak to her? She isn’t answering her phone. Phoebe is getting tired and they both have school tomorrow. They want to go home.’
Mary’s heart skipped a beat as her soon-to-be ex-son-in-law awaited her reply. ‘Have you heard from her at all today?’
‘No. Like I told you last night. I heard from her yesterday when she said she had to visit a client in the afternoon and she asked me to pick the girls up from school and take them back to my place. I’ve heard nothing more. You mean she isn’t with you?’
Mary took a deep breath. She should’ve called Ryan to keep him updated but she didn’t want him to know that Susan had been struggling to cope, especially as things were getting nasty between Susan and Ryan after Susan told him she wanted a divorce. She didn’t need to give him any more ammunition and had hoped that this little incident would have blown over by today. ‘Ryan, Susan didn’t pick Rory up from nursery, you know that. I haven’t heard from her. I am calling the police.’
‘Dammit. What’s up with her? I could do without this. I suppose I best come and get Rory? It’s not fair on you and Howard.’
Mary listened at the lounge door and all had gone quiet. She hoped that Rory had settled so that she could pop him straight into the travel cot. ‘He’s more than welcome to stay. I think he’s asleep.’
‘Unlike the other?’ Ryan said as Harrison’s yells boomed through the building.
‘We’ll be fine. That’s unless you want to collect him. He’s more than welcome to stay though. I know you probably have work in the morning. You just concentrate on the girls and let me know if you hear anything from Susan. I’ll keep you updated.’
‘Thanks, Mary. Let me know if you hear anything. I’ll keep trying her too.’
As he ended the call she walked over to the sink and poured a glass of water. Since Susan’s split from Ryan, she had gone a little off the rails. She’d gone out drinking more, taken quite a few liberties when it came to babysitting and she had been a little late at times and not answered her phone. But she had never abandoned her children; she loved them more than anything. Mary pressed the buttons on the phone. If she didn’t call the police and something had happened, she’d never forgive herself. ‘Hello, I’d like to report a missing person.’
Three
Detective Inspector Gina Harte pulled up behind PC Kapoor’s squad car. As usual, she hadn’t planned to do much that evening. There was a pack of moulding bread and some old cheese spread with her name on it. Attending a call-out was a blessed release.
The petite officer was already at the front door, about to knock; her frame resembling that of a teenage girl.
The small semi-detached cottage was a part
of older Cleevesford – lashings of village charm, cream painted exterior with sash windows. Built at the turn of the last century, Gina knew them to have originally been farmworker homes. At the end of the garden, the owner had carefully placed a little streetlamp in the ground that looked like an old-fashioned gas lamp. This nicely complemented the line of bare blossom trees that Gina knew would look beautiful come spring and summer when the flowering borders came to life. She shivered as she did up the top button of her overcoat.
As Gina stepped out, Kapoor gave her a little wave and knocked at the door. ‘Hiya, guv,’ she called out in thick, high-pitched, Brummie tones. The closer Gina got to the house, the more noise she could hear coming from within. A child’s shrieks boomed through the walls and the closed curtains fluttered up as a toddler weaved through them. A flustered woman who looked to be in her early sixties answered the door. Gina had to stop herself from staring. The resemblance was uncanny, taking Gina’s breath away.
Mary swiftly lifted her leg, blocking the lively toddler as he tried to run out in his dinosaur pyjamas. ‘Clare, get Harrison, will you.’
‘I want ice cream. I want ice cream,’ the child yelled as the woman lifted him up. With the struggling child now under her arms, she invited the police officer and detective into her house.
‘I’m Detective Inspector Harte, this is PC Kapoor.’
‘Thank you so much for coming. I’m Mary, this is my other daughter, Clare.’ A younger woman ran down the stairs and grabbed the child from Mary’s arms. A red line began to rise on her cheek. She flinched as she rubbed it. ‘He’s a live wire, that one. Come through to the kitchen.’
Gina followed Kapoor and Mary along the hallway. The child’s screams filled the house and she could clearly see that Mary looked exhausted from everything that was going on.
‘Can I get you a drink?’
Gina and Kapoor shook their heads.
‘We’re fine, thank you. You called us because your daughter hasn’t come home yet. May we take a seat?’ Gina asked, her calves aching from the run she had attempted earlier that day.
Mary nodded and gestured for them all to sit at the breakfast bar around the kitchen island. For an old-looking cottage, Mary had modernised it beautifully. The light grey cupboard doors and the light wooden worktop finished the look off with designer precision. Under cupboard lights lit up the room. Children’s finger paintings, bursting with colour, over-spilled the small noticeboard. Mary turned on a lamp that stood in the corner of the room. ‘That’s better, we can all see now. I try to keep the lighting subdued. As you can see my grandson, Harrison, is a bit of a handful. I try to keep it darker in the hope that he may get tired and fall asleep. That’s wishful thinking.’
Gina pulled her notebook out of her bag. ‘Is he the little one who was left at nursery?’
Mary shook her head. ‘No, my other daughter, Clare, couldn’t keep up with her rent so last year she came back home; it’s only a temporary thing. Harrison is her little boy. Rory is my other daughter, Susan’s son. He’s upstairs, fast asleep in our room. He’s the complete opposite. A quiet little soul.’ Mary paused. ‘Look, I’m sorry for troubling you—’
‘It’s definitely no trouble. Your daughter is missing. I’m glad you called, that’s what we’re here for.’
‘I know she’s only been gone a day but I’m worried, I really am. I mean, she didn’t turn up to collect her son from nursery. She would never leave him there and not come home all night. Her other two children are at their dad’s flat and she was meant to collect them too. I just don’t know… At first, I kept thinking she might come back in the night, that she just needed time to think.’ Mary wiped a tear from her cheek. ‘The family think I’m worrying a bit too much but I’m not. I’m her mother and she wouldn’t do this to me. She wouldn’t do this to her children.’
‘It’s okay, Mrs Hudson.’ Gina handed Mary a pack of pocket tissues.
‘Just call me Mary.’
‘Mary. It would help us greatly if you could answer a few questions.’
Kapoor pulled out her pocketbook and cleared her throat. Her shiny black ponytail bounced back and forth as she shuffled on the stool to get comfortable. ‘Can I take her full name?’
‘Susan Helena Wheeler. Wheeler is her married name.’
‘Age?’
‘Thirty-four.’
A few minutes later, Kapoor had noted down all the basic details of their missing woman.
Gina pulled out her pen and turned to a fresh page on her pad, ready to question Mary. ‘I know this is hard, Mary, but will you just go through yesterday’s events and what you know about your daughter’s whereabouts during this time.’
The woman began to twiddle her finger around her dyed bobbed brown hair, accentuating the slight kink. Gina glanced away, that was something her mother always did. Seeing Mary play with her hair like that had dredged up an image of her mother doing the same to her own bobbed brown hair. ‘Are you okay, Detective?’ Mary’s head tilted slightly.
Gina nodded and felt a little shiver run through her body. ‘I’m fine, thank you. Please begin.’ She dug her nail in her leg, reminding herself that she was here, now, and to not get lost in her own thoughts. Lots of people had brown bobbed hair and lots of people twiddled their hair when they were stressed. But not in that exact same way – uncanny.
Over the sounds of the boy running around in the bedroom above, Mary began to speak. ‘I thought nothing of it really, it was just a normal day. I knew that Susan had a few appointments this week, we’d spoken on the phone a few times.’
Gina gave a reassuring smile. ‘What does Susan do?’
‘She’s a bookkeeper, works for herself. From home, most of the time. Occasionally she does a bit of work on site, for companies, but not often. She mostly goes to people’s houses to pick work up and this has always worried me. I told her that I thought it seemed a bit risky but she didn’t seem to care. She always said her clients were lovely. Sometimes they even dropped their paperwork to her at home. I didn’t really like that at all, especially after she and Ryan split up. I mean, she’s in that house on her own with the kids. These people call her up after seeing her adverts in the paper and on Facebook. They could be anyone.’ Mary frowned.
Gina could see that the circumstances surrounding Susan’s work had been a worry for her mother. She wondered if her own mother had been as worried about her, every time Gina had lied that she was too busy to visit or receive visitors. She’d kept away to protect them from what Terry was doing to her, not wanting her parents to see how fragile and bruised she was back then. If only she had let them into her life.
Sucked back into the present by a child’s scream, Gina made a couple of notes. ‘How about yesterday? What can you tell me?’
‘I got a call from the nursery. It was after six, I can’t remember the exact time. They told me that Susan hadn’t picked Rory up and they were waiting to go home. He’s her youngest at two and he goes there most days until about five thirty. I often pick him up when Susan has clients to see later in the day but she didn’t ask me to collect him yesterday. After the nursery called I hurried straight there and brought him home with me. The nursery staff said that they’d tried to call Susan a few times but she hadn’t answered. I tried to call her too – over and over again, no answer. I brought Rory home, fed him and waited. After a while Ryan called. He hadn’t heard from her either. She was also meant to pick up their girls from Ryan’s apartment at eight and she didn’t turn up. As you can imagine, I started panicking. She wouldn’t miss picking the children up.’
‘How has Susan been, in herself?’ Gina imagined a mother of three, going through a divorce and trying to keep it all together by working hard to provide for her children, was going to be a bit stressed. ‘Is she happy?’
‘She wouldn’t hurt herself, if that’s what you’re thinking. Happy? I don’t know. She wasn’t depressed.’ Mary stared out of her kitchen window. ‘She’s not answering her phone. I don’t
know what else to do.’ There was a loud thud from above and the patter of tiny feet ran around the room, the voice crying for ice cream.
‘Do you have a photo of Susan that we can take with us?’
Mary nodded and headed out of the room. ‘Keep the noise down,’ she shouted up the stairs.
The way Mary nodded had again reminded Gina of her own mother. How could they be so alike? She wanted to rub her eyes and shake her head. Mary wasn’t her mother – Gina’s mother was dead. Her pulse filled her head and she gasped for breath. ‘It’s warm in here.’
‘It’s that thick coat of yours.’ Kapoor smiled.
Gina wouldn’t take it off. She wanted to hurry up and leave. There was something she needed to do and Mary had reminded her of it. She fanned her face with her hand and forced a smile as Mary re-entered.
‘Here you go. I just got my husband to print this off. It was taken a couple of weeks ago when Susan came around for lunch with the kids.’
Susan’s complexion matched that of her children. Slightly bronzed skin, dark eyes and long curly mocha-toned hair. Slim build, perfectly symmetrical features and gleaming white teeth, making her look to be in her mid-twenties. ‘Thank you for this. We will put out an alert with all departments to look out for her. Does she drive?’
‘Yes. She has a small Peugeot at the moment. I have no idea how old it is but I do know it is silver.’ Gina knew that she could easily find out Susan’s car model and registration number.
‘Do you know who she was seeing yesterday? Did she tell anyone where she went or did she have a diary?’
‘Why would she tell me exactly where she was going? She saw different people every day. I know she uses an old paper diary that was sometimes in her handbag but I don’t know if she has another, or even an online one.’
