Shifting Sands

by Anthea Fraser

  Imogen glanced instinctively at the clock. Five fifteen. ‘And you’ve only just realized?’

  ‘Indeed not, but we didn’t want to alarm you unnecessarily. A search has been conducted in and around the school and her friends questioned, but they were unable to throw any light on it. I wondered if perhaps she might have come home?’

  Imogen’s mouth was dry, and she moistened her lips. ‘I haven’t seen her. But surely she must have told someone or left a note, if she was intending to . . . run away?’

  ‘It seems not.’ The voice was clipped.

  ‘Was she . . . upset about anything?’

  ‘She’d been reprimanded for not handing in some work, but that’s scarcely reason to disappear.’

  The word rang fresh alarm bells. ‘Disappear? Could someone have abducted her? Have there—?’

  ‘Mrs Nash, please! I assure you Daisy hasn’t been outside the grounds. We’re very strict about that.’

  ‘She seems to be outside them now,’ Imogen said baldly.

  ‘Yes, well that’s what we’re trying to ascertain. We’ve made enquiries at the railway and bus stations, but no one remembers seeing her.’

  ‘Oh, God!’ Imogen breathed.

  ‘I’m sure there’s nothing to worry about,’ the headmistress assured her, less than convincingly.

  ‘Have you informed the police?’

  ‘We were waiting till I’d spoken to you, though I appreciate that if she had arrived home, you’d have informed us.’

  ‘Naturally.’

  ‘Then all I can do is . . .’

  Imogen suddenly stopped listening, staring through the window at the car that had drawn up at their gate. A taxi, surely? Heart pounding, she waited, Miss Wright’s voice rattling incomprehensibly in her ear as – oh, thank God! – her daughter emerged from the back, carrying her school satchel.

  She broke into the woman’s spiel. ‘Miss Wright, she’s just arrived now. I’m so sorry about this. I’ll come back to you as soon as we’ve spoken to her.’ And without waiting for a response, Imogen dropped the phone and ran out of the house.

  ‘Daisy! What on earth do you think you’re doing?’

  Slightly shamefaced, the girl turned to her. ‘Oh, there you are, Mum. Could you pay the taxi? I used the last of my cash on the train.’

  Imogen stared at her, and Daisy, bracing herself, defiantly held her gaze. Laconically, the taxi driver held out a hand, breaking the spell.

  ‘Go and get my bag. It’s on the hall table.’

  Dropping her satchel on the pavement, Daisy set off up the path. Not until the driver had been paid and driven off did Imogen turn again to her daughter, grabbing her by the arm.

  ‘What the hell are you doing here?’

  Daisy’s mouth set in a sullen line that was depressingly familiar. ‘I’m not going back,’ she said.

  ‘Oh yes, you are, young lady. Wait till your father hears about this.’

  Daisy switched to pleading mode. ‘Please don’t make me, Mum! Everyone’s been getting at me – I hate it there!’

  ‘Is this all because you didn’t do your prep?’

  Daisy stared at her in astonishment. ‘How—?’

  ‘I’ve had Miss Wright on the phone, that’s how. There’s been a full-scale search of the school and grounds, enquiries made at the station – uselessly, as it turns out – and she was about to call the police.’

  Daisy looked frightened. ‘I didn’t think—’

  ‘You never do! That’s the trouble!’

  ‘You sound just like Daddy!’ Daisy accused her, and burst into tears.

  With an exasperated sigh, Imogen bent to retrieve the satchel and, still grasping her daughter’s arm, led her back into the house.

  ‘She thinks she can do exactly as she likes!’ Roger stormed. He’d had a trying day at the office and, looking forward to the weekend, had arrived home in the middle of a scene between his wife and daughter, whom he’d thought safely at school. Now, having despatched Daisy to her room, he’d rounded on Imogen.

  ‘You’re far too lenient with her, I keep telling you that, giving her everything she asks for – money, clothes, whatever fancy takes her. God knows if the school will have her back, and then what would we do, with GCSEs within spitting distance?’

  ‘I managed to soothe them down,’ Imogen replied, ‘but your shouting at her won’t help.’

  ‘On the contrary, I’ve not shouted enough! I’m sick and tired of having my authority flouted by the two of you going behind my back.’

  ‘Roger, I don’t! I’m only trying to keep the peace!’

  ‘But at what cost?’ He strode to the drinks cupboard and poured himself a straight whisky, downing it in one. ‘I’ve had the hell of a week at work, and this is what I come home to!’

  ‘So . . . what are we going to do?’

  ‘Send her back, of course. If you’re sure they’ll take her.’

  ‘But shouldn’t we try to find out what’s wrong? She must have been unhappy, to—’

  ‘Nonsense! She’s not used to discipline, that’s the trouble, and when someone tries to enforce it, she promptly runs home to Mummy, who’s sure to take her side.’

  ‘That’s not fair!’ Imogen flared.

  ‘It’s you who aren’t fair, Imogen, letting her think she can get away with this.’

  ‘But I don’t! I never said that, though I do think we should give her the chance—’

  ‘She’s had plenty of chances.’ He ran his hand over his face. ‘Look, I need some peace and quiet. The three of you go ahead and have dinner. I’m off to the golf club. I’ll get something to eat there.’

  And before she could marshal the words to protest, the front door had banged behind him. Imogen ran into the hall, about to call him back, but Jack was standing motionless on the stairs, looking down at her. How much had he heard?

  She steadied her breath. ‘Have you done your homework?’

  He nodded, eyes wide.

  ‘Then you can have half an hour on the computer before dinner.’

  ‘Is Daddy coming back?’ Jack asked, his voice trembling.

  ‘Not for dinner.’ She knew that wasn’t what he meant, but didn’t trust herself to elaborate. She turned abruptly into the kitchen, her mind seething, and promptly lifted the phone.

  ‘Sophie? It’s me. Is this a bad time?’

  ‘Well, supper’s under way, but it’s ticking over for the moment. Is something wrong?’

  ‘Daisy’s arrived home out of the blue.’

  There was a pause. Then Sophie said simply, ‘Ah!’

  ‘All hell’s been let loose. The first I knew was a phone call from her headmistress saying she was missing, and I was panicking about that when a taxi drew up and out she stepped, cool as a cucumber, announcing that she’s not going back.’

  ‘Oh, Imo, I’m so sorry.’

  ‘As you might imagine, Roger blew a fuse and has stormed off to the golf club, saying he’ll eat there. Naturally he blames me for this.’

  ‘But what happened exactly? Why did she come home?’

  ‘Because, if you please, she was given detention for not handing in her prep. Honestly, Sophie, I could have scalped her! They were about to contact the police.’

  ‘So what happens next?’

  ‘Well, I phoned the school, of course, and after some sweet-talking on my part, they agreed she can stay here for the weekend while we try to drum some sense into her, and they’ll expect her back on Monday. It was made clear, though, that she wouldn’t escape punishment for this, and quite right too. My concern is how we can persuade her to go back, if she digs her heels in. We can’t drag her there, kicking and screaming; and suppose she runs away again, and next time doesn’t come home?’

  ‘Obviously your first priority is to get to the bottom of what happened. It must be more than detention, surely? Is she being bullied, do you think?’

  The word catapulted Imogen back to her own schooldays – shivering in the playground until Soph
ie came to her rescue. ‘God, I hope not,’ she said.

  Over the wire, she heard a voice in the background, and Sophie replied, ‘Five minutes.’ Then, to Imogen, ‘Sorry, love, I’ll have to go. I suggest you and Roger sit down with her and talk things through as calmly as you can. I’m sure you’ll sort something out.’

  She rang off. Imogen slowly put the phone down and, closing her eyes, leaned with both hands on the counter. Calm, reasonable Sophie. Then, straightening her shoulders, she began to prepare dinner.

  SIX

  Anna had forgotten how noisy twelve excited little boys could be, and by the time a succession of parents had arrived to collect their offspring, she was ready to collapse at the kitchen table with a cup of tea. The memory of Miles here with them last year – a point that had carefully not been mentioned – was an added strain. Her grandsons, she’d noted with a tug of the heart, were wearing their South African T-shirts, Tom’s sporting a rhino and Tim’s a cheetah. At least they both appeared to fit.

  ‘It went off very well, didn’t it?’ she said.

  Jonathan passed her the milk jug. ‘Yes; and that’s it, thank God, for another year.’

  ‘Vicky was saying this might be the last ever,’ Sophie remarked, putting the remains of the birthday cake in a tin and pressing down the lid. ‘She thinks Tom will want a treat next year.’

  ‘Then I’m even more grateful it was postponed till I was back,’ Anna commented. ‘These milestones are precious.’

  ‘You did bring your camera, didn’t you?’ Angus asked, coming into the kitchen with a tray of debris. ‘We’re looking forward to a slide show later.’

  ‘Yes, it’s in my bag. I’ve not had the chance to look at them myself yet. No doubt they’ll bring back all kinds of things I’ve forgotten.’

  How many photos had she taken of Lewis? Anna wondered, with a spurt of anxiety. Not enough, she hoped, to give rise to comment, helped by the fact that it had been the end of the holiday before anything really developed between them.

  Had it not been for his phone call on Wednesday, she might have thought, back in these familiar surroundings, that it had all been a dream. Did she seem any different to her family? she wondered. Could they sense she was keeping a secret? Watching them all as Jonathan took out the vacuum cleaner and the girls began stacking the dishwasher, she wondered a little wildly how they’d react if she suddenly announced that while she was away, she’d met another man and gone to bed with him. Furthermore, she was meeting him in London next week, when she would doubtless do so again.

  Would they be appalled? Shocked, even disgusted? Or glad for her? She doubted the latter – not so soon after Miles’s death.

  ‘Anna?’ Angus repeated, raising his voice slightly and bringing her back from her reverie. ‘Would you like another cup?’

  ‘Oh sorry – I was miles away. Yes, please, but is there nothing I can do to help?’

  ‘Everything’s under control,’ Jonathan assured her. ‘Thank God for paper plates and cups! It’s only the serving dishes that need seeing to, and most of them go in the dishwasher. If you’d like to relax somewhere more comfortable, Vicky’s restored order in the sitting room.’

  Anna shook her head. ‘I want to be in the thick of it, even if I am only an observer.’

  ‘That’ll be the day!’ Jonathan teased, and, as he passed, dropped a kiss on the top of her head. He had brought her here, but Sophie and Angus would drive her home, since, as of today, he was moving back with his family.

  Sophie, having finished at the sink, brought her mug of tea over and sat across from her mother. ‘There’s one sad bit of news you mightn’t have heard,’ she said. ‘Imogen’s Aunt Em has died. It’s her funeral on Monday.’

  ‘Oh, no!’ Anna exclaimed. ‘I am sorry. She was younger than I am, surely? What happened?’

  ‘No one seems to know. She was fine the previous week at her birthday dinner, then Uncle Ted found her dead in bed. There was a post-mortem, but I don’t know the result. I haven’t liked to ask Imo. She was very upset.’

  ‘I’m sure she was. I must write to her and her mother.’ Anna had met Emily Broadbent on only a few occasions, but she’d been very good to Sophie when she was younger, including her in treats with Imogen and referring to her as her adopted niece.

  ‘What time is the funeral?’ she added.

  Sophie laid a quick hand on her arm. ‘You don’t have to go, Ma – it’s too soon. I’ll represent the family.’

  Yes, Anna thought, full of guilt, it was too soon for her to attend a funeral – for that matter, it always would be – but it was also too soon to have slept with someone else. She knew her daughter’s sympathy would have been tempered, had she known about that.

  The clearing up was completed, the boys were eventually packed off to bed, the adults settled down to supper, and the questions about South Africa began.

  ‘You’ve hardly told us anything,’ Vicky chided gently. ‘All you said in your texts was that you were enjoying yourself and were in a good group.’

  ‘I know, I’m sorry. But when you’re travelling hundreds of miles, and seldom spend more than one night in the same bed, there’s no time to go into detail. I’ll talk you through the photos when we’ve finished eating.’

  ‘But it really wasn’t the disaster we feared, Beatrice dropping out like that?’

  Anna shook her head. ‘Poor love, she was so disappointed, but I’m ashamed to say I barely missed her. I’m going round next week, armed with the photos and the notes she asked me to make for her.’

  ‘Did you bring the notes with you?’ Jonathan asked.

  ‘It never occurred to me, but in any case they’re still on scrappy bits of paper; I’ll have to type them up and print them before next week.’

  ‘What was the best part of the holiday?’ Sophie enquired.

  Anna thought for a moment, censoring her memories. ‘It was all wonderful, but I suppose seeing the animals free to roam where they liked. I know things here are better than they used to be, but they’re still confined to some degree. And, of course, the scenery was spectacular.’

  ‘Perhaps we should go and sample it ourselves!’ Angus said with a grin.

  ‘I strongly recommend it. Tamsin would love it. How is she, by the way? She was my most faithful correspondent and didn’t seem at all fazed by my lack of response.’

  It was Sophie who replied. ‘She’s fine. It’ll be half-term in a couple of weeks, and she’s asked if she can bring one of her friends back for the week. Actually, it’ll be a help, because they’ll be able to amuse themselves without calling on me the whole time.’

  ‘Are you busy at the moment, work-wise?’

  ‘So-so. Any time now, people will start thinking about Christmas presents and parties, and then it will really take off.’

  ‘Heavens!’ Vicky exclaimed. ‘Don’t talk about Christmas! It’s only the beginning of October, and there’s Hallowe’en and Guy Fawkes to get through first!’

  It was nine o’clock before they were all settled in the sitting room, and as Anna’s photos came up on the TV screen, she was momentarily startled both by their size and clarity. The camera had faithfully reproduced details she’d not noticed at the time – the pattern on Ali’s shirt as he leant against the coach, the afternoon shadows lying across the pavement.

  ‘Jolly good camera, Ma,’ Jonathan said appreciatively. ‘Is that the one Dad gave you?’

  Anna nodded, transported back to the start of the holiday. ‘That’s our driver, Ali, and Edda, the tour manager. She really was excellent – so well informed, and able to answer every question thrown at her.’

  The picture changed, giving way in turn to Cape Town’s parliament buildings, the strange little creatures up Table Mountain, the view from Signal Hill. All this, Anna thought as she identified each shot to her family, before she’d exchanged so much as a word with Lewis or the Salters. Then, suddenly, there she was herself on Boulder’s Beach, surrounded by penguins and smiling a little self-
consciously. Behind her, she could see Jean bending towards a group of birds, camera poised, and, farther away, Harry snapping Susan, while beyond them all the Atlantic Ocean lay grey beneath an overcast sky. The photograph Lewis had taken.

  Anna’s face grew hot, but everyone’s attention was on the screen as they exclaimed over the tameness of the penguins, and, her embarrassment unnoticed, she thankfully moved on to the redwing starlings at Cape Point.

  As the slide show continued, Anna sometimes had difficulty identifying the precise scene before them, one view of the rolling veldt and grazing animals being much like another. And sometimes a picture recalled an occasion she’d forgotten, such as the enforced stop when Prue left her camera on the coach, and they had to wait while she and Bill hurried back to retrieve it. She’d taken the opportunity to zoom in on the exotic splendour of the flowers growing alongside the path – strelitzia, protea, flame lilies, nemesia – and their glowing, vibrant colours recalled for her the heat of the African sun.

  ‘They were growing wild?’ Sophie asked incredulously. ‘What I’d give to have those in my garden!’

  Next came the group photo they’d posed for outside Cango Caves, each of them taking turns to be photographer. That was Anna’s first on-screen glimpse of Lewis, half hidden towards the back of the group, but thereafter he featured in more shots, usually with either George or Wendy, and Anna felt obliged to explain that this was the threesome who had befriended her.

  After an hour and a half, with many pictures still to go, they called a halt.

  ‘To be continued,’ Angus said firmly. ‘It’s getting late, and I want to enjoy the viewing session without falling asleep! Anna, I charge you with remembering where we’ve got up to.’

  ‘That’s easy,’ she replied, ‘the arrival at the game park. It’s a good place to stop; I took dozens of photos on the two safaris, and a lot will be poor quality and need deleting.’

  ‘It’s been lovely to see it all,’ Vicky said, stretching. ‘I feel I’ve been on holiday myself!’

  Goodbyes and thanks were exchanged, and as Angus reversed down the drive and turned out of the gateway, Anna’s last glimpse was of Vicky and Jonathan framed in the doorway, his arm across her shoulders. It made a perfect end to the evening.