“So where did Zoe go to last year, Mister Love?” PC Torres said.
“Nowhere. She went nowhere. Literally, I mean. She didn’t even leave the house.”
“Did you report it?”
“Report it? Who to? Mulder and Scully?”
PC Kari bowed his head. Nathan thought the policeman was trying not to laugh.
His dad apologised for raising his voice. He asked if they could just concentrate on finding Zoe.
“That’s why we’re here,” PC Torres said. “Perhaps Nathan could show us whereabouts in the park he went with Zoe. Do you think you’d be able to do that, Nathan?”
Nathan pictured the gap in the railings and the dustbin and the long grass leading to the open ground at the centre of the park where Zoe’s favourite tree was and the tree branches and the glitter on the branches.
“We left directions,” Nathan said.
“Directions?” PC Torres said.
“So that the aliens could find us.”
His dad made a sort of growling noise. He said he was going to murder Zoe when she got home. Nathan didn’t think it was the best thing to say in front of the police.
8
Nathan led his dad and the two police officers through the estate. PC Kari walked with Nathan and his dad followed behind with PC Torres. PC Kari took his torch out. He showed Nathan the three different settings, switching back and forth between them and naming them.
“Lowlight. Flashing. Spot. Flashing. Lowlight. Spot.”
He gave the torch to Nathan, who expected it to be heavier than it was. It didn’t weigh any more than his own Space Torch. On the side of the torch it said ‘ALPHA ZULU’. Nathan asked what it meant and PC Kari said Alpha was A in the police alphabet and Zulu was Z.
Nathan told the policeman his Space Torch only had two settings but one of them was a picture of a distant galaxy. PC Kari said, “Cool.” The word sounded as funny coming from a policeman as whistling. Nathan thought he must be the good cop. PC Torres was definitely the bad one. Nathan’s dad had taught him about good cop, bad cop. When his mum was still alive she was usually the good cop, but sometimes she’d swap roles with Nathan’s dad, to trick him or Zoe into doing their homework or to get Nathan into the bath. Arthur would have said all cops were bad.
“I got my torch at the National Space Centre,” Nathan told PC Kari.
“That’s in Leicester, right?” The policeman said his family lived in Leicester, but he’d never been to the National Space Centre himself. “I suppose it’s like people who live in London all their life but never go to Buckingham Palace.”
“I’ve been to Buckingham Palace,” Nathan said.
“Inside?” PC Kari said. Nathan shook his head. The policeman whispered, “I have.”
“What for?”
“I’m afraid I’m not at liberty to disclose that,” PC Kari said in a jokey voice. He was definitely the good cop. “So, what sort of things do they have at the National Space Centre? Apart from a gift shop selling cool torches.”
Nathan told him about the simulator he’d been on, where they had to save the ice moon Europa. He told him he had to stand on tiptoes to trick the Space Centre staff into thinking he was tall enough to be allowed on the ride. Nathan remembered his dad teasing Zoe, asking her if she was sure she’d be okay to go on the simulator, because of the warnings on the sign at the entrance saying it wasn’t suitable for those with inner ear disorders, sensitivity to loud noises and bright lighting effects, or people who suffered from motion sickness. Zoe had complained of all those things after her alien abduction and her dad still didn’t believe her. Nathan used to think that there were no adults who believed. He wondered if PC Kari might be different. PC Torres wasn’t a believer that was certain. But maybe because he was still quite young, PC Kari would believe. Maybe even truly and properly.
Nathan told PC Kari about some of the exhibits at the National Space Centre. He told him about the Tranquility Base and the Planetarium and the Rocket Tower where the two huge rockets were kept.
“The Blue Streak and the Thor Able.” Just saying their names out loud was enough to remind Nathan how dizzy he’d felt looking up at the rockets.
The trip to the National Space Centre was the first time they’d been away from home as a family since their mum had died. Nathan’s dad had hired a car and they stayed at a hotel near the motorway. Their dad had booked two rooms, one for himself and one for Nathan and Zoe to share.
“What if she sleepwalks?” Nathan had asked his dad.
“As long as she doesn’t sleep run, you’ll be okay. I’ll be in the room next door anyway. Just bang on the wall and I’ll come and sort it out.”
“Can’t you lock us in?”
“Hotel rooms don’t really work that way round, mate. You’re thinking of prisons.”
Nathan had reminded his dad about the two locks he’d fitted to the outside of Zoe’s bedroom. She was convinced somebody, or something was trying to get into her room and her dad reluctantly agreed to fix the two small locks to her door. But he didn’t lock either of them. He pretended at first, loudly pulling each bolt across and then quietly unlocking them again when Zoe was in bed.
Nathan showed PC Kari where they’d climbed over the railings into the park and the policeman wheeled the same dustbin over. They all climbed over the railings and Nathan led the way into the park, looking for the first arrow. PC Kari shone his torch on the ground in front of them, sweeping it from side to side. The other police officer hung back with Nathan’s dad, who kept calling out Zoe’s name as though he was looking for his dog.
“Has your sister always been a keen stargazer?” PC Kari asked Nathan.
“We both have,” Nathan said but he knew that was like describing Jamie Oliver and the boy who tipped the chips into the fryer at Chicken Cottage both as chefs. Nathan may have had the library books, the fancy-dress astronaut costume and the stars on his ceiling but for Zoe it had always been different. Looking at stars seemed as ordinary and yet as essential as breathing to Zoe. Nathan found himself boasting to PC Kari about his sister. He told him they had a calendar showing when the International Space Station was due to fly over but Zoe didn’t need it because she just knew.
“Zoe knows when lightning’s going to strike as well,” Nathan said. “And when fog is coming and when it’s going to rain. She says she’s like a cow lying down in a field. My dad doesn’t believe her, of course,” Nathan lowered his voice, in case his dad could hear him because of the amplifying powers of darkness. “He thinks she had a bad nightmare or made it up.”
“Why would she do that?”
“Dad says for attention.”
“Does your sister crave attention?”
“What’s crave attention?”
“Does Zoe like being the centre of everything?” PC Kari said. “I’ve got a sister like that. It must have been difficult for your dad I expect, though. Bringing up two kids after you lost your mum.”
Nathan liked the way the policeman spoke to him like he was an adult.
“They don’t argue anymore,” Nathan said.
The policeman shone his torch in Nathan’s face. He apologised and aimed it back down at the ground. Nathan realised he still hadn’t seen a single arrow.
“My mum and my sister used to argue all the time,” PC Kari said. “I thought mothers and daughters were supposed to be best friends—”
“Zoe and my mum were best friends,” Nathan said. “I meant my dad and Zoe used to argue.”
They were almost at Zoe’s favourite tree and Nathan hadn’t seen any of the arrows they’d left. He knew everyone was going to think he was lying, especially his dad. He wondered if he could have possibly gone the wrong way or if the tree had been moved again. PC Kari shone his torch on the tree trunk and Nathan looked for the two Post-it notes. He hadn’t told the police or his dad about them. If they found the sticky notes, one with his name on and Zoe’s name on the other, he’d hardly be able to claim they were nothing to d
o with him. Nathan had hoped the policeman wouldn’t find them, but when Kari shone his torch the length of the tree and even inside the hollow and found nothing Nathan started to panic. Where were the Post-it notes and the directions?
Nathan showed the police where he’d laid on the grass with Zoe. PC Kari got down on one knee and put his palm on the ground, like an Indian scout tracking the outlaws in a cowboy film. PC Torres shook her head as though she didn’t approve. The two police officers walked about aimlessly for a bit, shining their torches as far as the beams would reach, until it looked like they weren’t searching for Zoe anymore but were instead having a competition to see whose beam would reach the furthest. Nathan thought he saw PC Kari’s torchlight hit one of the white vans parked in front of the café at least two hundred feet away. Arthur said he had a laser pen that was powerful enough to blind an airline pilot. Nathan didn’t know why anyone would want to do that.
“There’s a helicopter on its way,” PC Torres announced, and they went back to the house.
On the way back Nathan looked again for arrows. It hadn’t been windy enough for the branches to have simply blown away, and if somebody had swept them up, wouldn’t they have also swept up the Red Bull can and the KFC box? All the rubbish Nathan remembered seeing the night before was still there. The squashed cigarette packet and the baby’s sock, and a small pile of silver laughing gas canisters that last night Nathan had thought were bullets. It was only the directions they’d left for the aliens and the Post-it notes that were gone. If Nathan hadn’t seen what looked like snail slime, caught for a second in the beam of PC Kari’s torchlight, he might have wondered if he could have imagined or dreamed the arrows. When he looked again for the snail slime, which he knew was actually glitter, just like the branches, the Post-it notes and his sister, it was gone.
By the time they were back at the railings Nathan knew exactly what had happened. The aliens must have landed in the park. They found the first arrow and picked it up, following its trail to the next arrow and then the next, picking them up one by one like Hansel and Gretel picking up breadcrumbs, until they found the house, and found Zoe. Nathan would have been pleased that he’d worked it all out if he hadn’t also felt so envious. Why her again? Why not me?
Back at the house his dad looked for a photo of Zoe on his laptop. When he found the first one, he said, “Thank God,” as though Zoe had just walked through the door.
“She hates having her picture taken,” he said, rejecting the first photo because Zoe had her hand over her face. In a lot of the pictures on the laptop, Zoe either hid her face or had her back to the camera. Her dad skipped past those and dismissed any photos where she looked grumpy or she was doing her sarcastic ‘cheese’ smile. “I don’t want her to look like she’d be happier if she didn’t come home.”
In the photo he eventually chose and gave to the police, Zoe wasn’t looking directly at the camera. Her eyes were half-closed, and her mouth was open, showing her braces. The photo wasn’t all that recent and the background was far too busy. It wasn’t really in focus. It would never have been allowed on a passport. Zoe would have hated it. But Nathan’s dad said it was the best one available. He told the police he wanted a photo that people would look at and think, if she was their daughter, they’d want her back. He emailed the picture across the living room to PC Kari, who now had more photos of Zoe on his phone than she had on hers.
When the police were gone, Nathan prepared himself for a massive telling off. He wondered what his dad would be most angry about. Would it be him going to the park with Zoe or that they’d climbed over the fence? Or would he be most angry that Nathan hadn’t told him about it all sooner? Nathan thought his dad would be especially annoyed with him for apparently making up a story about leaving directions that led to their house. But his dad was surprisingly calm. He didn’t shout or swear. After the police left, he put his arm around Nathan’s shoulder. He held him for a full minute. When he let him go there was glitter on his dad’s hand.
Nathan was about to point it out, when his dad said, “I wish you hadn’t told the police all that stuff about aliens. They’re not going to search half as hard now.”
9
Nathan couldn’t imagine how the police could have searched any harder for Zoe than they did. The helicopter arrived and shone a bright stream of light down on the park and the estate, reaching further than any torch ever could. PC Torres and PC Kari came back to the house in the morning and other police came too. They searched the house again, taking a diary from Zoe’s room even though it had nothing written in it. The police walked through the estate, knocking on doors and stopping people passing by, speaking to dog walkers and postmen and showing them the picture of Zoe. The police lifted the lids of wheelie bins and they parted bushes. They forced open the jammed door of a fly-tipped cooker in the adventure playground and found nothing.
The police looked under every car in the estate’s underground car park, sticking their faces up against the windows, in case Zoe was asleep or hiding on the backseat. They walked around the whole park, crossing it from top to bottom and side to side, staring at the still water of the ponds and disturbing the flowerbeds inside the walled garden. The police checked the community greenhouses and walked through the sand and water play area. They searched the café and the stable block and spoke to the builders doing the renovation work there. The police looked for Zoe in the One O’clock club and all of the public toilets. They walked across the bowling green and tennis courts and searched the cricket nets. Nathan couldn’t imagine how they could have searched any harder.
And there were just so many places to hide or to be hidden, so many places to stay and such a lot of ways to leave. There were hundreds of buses and night buses, the Tube and the Overground, black taxis and Ubers, unlicensed mini cabs and Boris bikes for hire. Everything that Nathan’s dad said helped to make the area such a desirable place to live, and why the developers and the council were so keen for them to move out, so they could knock the estate down and build posh flats. Nathan’s dad called it gentrification.
Nathan asked his dad if he could help the police search. He wanted to go back to the park to look for the arrows and the Post-it notes in daylight. His dad said there was absolutely no way he was leaving the house on his own.
“I’m not losing another one,” he said.
In just a few days, the police had been at the house often enough for Nathan to learn some of their language. Zoe was a misper. A fifteen-year-old IC1 female missing person. The helicopter that flew above the estate and annoyed the neighbours was called India 99, and the Alsatian dog that barked at Nathan was a Delta. The two women who’d been at the house the most were called FLOs, which stood for family liaison officers. They dressed in normal clothes, usually black trousers and jumpers and they had their names on badges hanging around their necks, like the boys who worked in JD Sports.
The FLOs would be at the house so often that Nathan would almost forget they were the police. They already knew where the cups and coffee were kept and that the hot and cold taps in the kitchen were fitted the wrong way around. To Nathan, the two women looked and sounded so alike one another, he struggled to remember which FLO was called Janet and who was Anne Marie. Craig said that was why they always sat in the same places on the sofa – to make it easier to identify who was who, like Ant and Dec. Nathan didn’t think there was a good FLO and a bad FLO. They were just FLOs.
Nathan learned the rest of the police alphabet. Filling in the spaces between Alpha and Zulu. He was November Alpha Tango Hotel Alpha November and Zoe was Zulu Oscar Echo. Their dad was Delta Alpha Delta, or Sierra Tango Echo Papa Hotel Echo November to everyone who wasn’t Nathan or Zoe.
When Zoe had officially been missing for three days, the police filmed a television appeal. On the fourth day it was shown on the local news. There were so many family members and friends and random people from the estate in the living room to watch it on television, it felt more like Nathan’s dad was about
to be a contestant on Britain’s Got Talent. Craig brought a box of beer and one of Auntie Maureen’s workmates from Greggs brought cakes.
Nathan sat on the living room carpet next to Craig because there was nowhere left to sit. Nathan’s gran on his dad’s side of the family was knitting on the sofa behind him. He was worried he was going to end up with an ugly yellow jumper because of Zoe. He pictured his sister really laughing about that when she came back. And Nathan still believed she would be coming back.
With all the police in the living room and Maureen and her friends in their Greggs uniforms and even the vicar dropping by briefly, Craig said they were two cowboys and a pirate short of being at a fancy-dress party. The one person most obviously missing – apart from Zoe of course, and Nathan thought how brilliant it would be if she walked through the door when everyone was watching her appeal on television – was Nathan’s dad. He’d gone upstairs to the toilet a long time ago and hadn’t come back.
The appeal began and Maureen told everyone to be quiet. Nathan had never seen anyone he knew on television before. He never thought his dad would be the first. He was sitting behind what looked like a table for spreading paste onto wallpaper. There were two policemen sitting at the table with his dad. Nathan hadn’t seen them before. There was a large picture of a police badge and a website address on the wall behind them and two microphones on the table in front. The enlarged picture of Zoe was on an easel next to the table. Craig whispered to Nathan that it looked like they were auctioning a painting. When the policeman sitting to the left of his dad said, “Her younger brother was the last person to see Zoe alive,” Nathan thought it sounded like the policeman was investigating a murder instead of looking for a missing person.
“You know they film these things to look for crocodile tears,” Craig whispered.
A Godawful Small Affair Page 6
