The Runaway

by Linda Huber

  Chapter Sixteen

  Friday, 7th August

  Saturday morning was unspeakably awful. Rob and Dorothy went to the police station to touch base with the team there and talk about a TV appeal, which left Dorothy in tears and Rob with so much frustrated energy he couldn’t sit still. He could kill the madman who’d taken Mia, kill him with his own bare hands in a moment. But he couldn’t do anything, could he? His role was to sit and wait and do what the police told him. It wasn’t enough. Rob walked back to the car, his brain engaged in trying to work out what the hell he could do to find Mia. Dorothy was silent too, her fingers plucking at the strap of her handbag.

  An idea struck him when they were on the road, and he jerked, the car swerving across to the other side of the road. Fortunately, nothing was coming.

  Dorothy cried out in alarm. ‘Rob! What is it?’

  ‘A reward! Why didn’t I think of it? Mum, we can buy Mia back!’ Rob slapped his palms on the wheel, adrenaline flooding him with energy. He would give everything he owned to get his daughter back, and – they could crowdfund, couldn’t they? Wouldn’t people be happy to give a few pounds to help a little kid get back to her family? ‘Phoebe’ll help set it up; she’ll know about stuff like that.’ He thumped the wheel again, and horns blared.

  ‘Rob! Look, there’s a filling station. Let’s stop there and talk.’ Dorothy was gripping the dashboard with one hand and the handle above her door with the other, her face drawn.

  Rob eased his foot from the accelerator, his brain whirring. They’d manage a good sum of money with three of them, and if the crowdfunding worked, surely the sky was the limit. Phoebe could get things started right now. He pulled into a space at the side of the filling station shop and grabbed his phone, taking it outside where he could pace up and down.

  The signal was poor and Phoebe sounded far away, but Rob talked on, outlining the plan and getting fresh ideas all the time about people they could ask to donate money. ‘What do you think?’ he finished, panting.

  ‘It can’t hurt. I’ll talk to someone about crowdfunding, shall I? How much longer will you be?’

  ‘Ten minutes.’

  He rang off and accepted a paper cup of terrible tea from his mother, who was still looking shaken.

  ‘Rob, you need to calm down – go on like this and you’ll run out of energy.’

  He sipped. She was right; he should pace himself. This was still the start of their search, but it was looking a shade brighter. Wasn’t it?

  The brighter shade lasted until they arrived home to find Mike the FLO was waiting with Phoebe and was dead against the reward idea.

  ‘At this point the initial investigations are still ongoing, and if you start crowdfunding, the abductor might think it’d be worthwhile hanging on for more cash. I’m not saying never, but this isn’t the time.’

  Rob collapsed on the sofa and looked at Phoebe.

  ‘Rob, I can still get on with stuff on social media. There’s a lot we can do without asking people for money.’

  Her dark-rimmed eyes were staring at him, and Rob buried his head in his hands. The one ray of light was gone. He barely glanced up when the FLO left.

  Dorothy went through to the kitchen and returned a few minutes later with a plate of sandwiches. ‘Eat,’ she said. ‘Listen. We need a different plan. Organising the house sale is the last thing I feel like doing, but–’

  Rob made to interrupt her. Right now, organising a house sale would be the biggest waste of time ever.

  Dorothy held up her hand. ‘Let me finish. But – if we get this place sold, that’s potentially tens of thousands ready for the reward. If we need one, and please God we won’t. Let’s get started. We can get a van to drive the stuff I’m keeping to Brighton. And before we put this place on the market, we should approach the people who own the holiday lets – they might take it off our hands quite quickly. If they do, we can go back to Brighton next week sometime. If Mia was in St Ives, surely she’d have been found by now. You can wait at home for news.’

  Rob closed his eyes. How impossible; back to Brighton, where Mia had a bedroom full of treasures, where there were photos all over the place to remind him of his daughter… but it wasn’t time, it was not time to give up hope. He looked from Phoebe, who was nodding, to his mother, whose eyes were fixed on his, and cleared his throat.

  ‘Agreed. We’ll sell.’ He’d never go back to Brighton while the search was still ongoing, but he’d cross that bridge when the time came.

  The first ray of sunshine hit from the window, and Kelly rested her cheek on her right palm. Another day in the cellar room. Mia had barely stopped crying since she arrived here, poor little thing. Even now, in her sleep, shuddering whimpers were punctuating her breathing. Kelly lay still. They were sharing the stinking mattress, and if she moved too hard Mia would wake up and those heartrending sobs would start all over again. She’d begun by trying to comfort Mia, but the kid wanted none of it, she wanted her dad and her nan, and who could blame her? And beside Mia’s despair was Kelly’s sheer and guilty relief at not being alone any longer. Confusing, or what? Mia’d said she’d been asleep outside the door for a long time and her head hurt. Had Dad whacked her one? Or drugged her? And the why was still unanswerable, but… Kelly hugged her arms across her chest, hope soaring. People would definitely be looking for Mia. Dad must have had a right panic when he took her. The spooky thing was – this room. Not some old warehouse or abandoned garage like she’d been imagining. According to Mia, she’d been looking for clues in Kelly’s home. Could that be right? Or had Dad managed to spirit them both off somewhere else?

  Kelly frowned. She’d been in the cellar at home – okay, not often, but she’d have noticed an empty room with a loo off it. Maybe the Anne Frank hide thought hadn’t been far off the mark. The other mystery was why everyone seemed to have given up on finding her. What had happened to police dogs sniffing people out? And where was Mum?

  A ray of sunshine hit the blocked-up window, and Kelly blinked. Time to start the day. Get up, go to the loo, put the light on. Did light bulbs wear out? Imagine if it plopped off like before and never came on again – that was almost as scary as he was. Just knowing it was there, ready to be switched on was a biggie. She inched forwards to put her feet on the floor, and oh no, she’d wakened Mia. The kid jerked upright, panting, and even in the dimness Kelly could see what a sorry little picture she was.

  ‘Will we get out today?’

  Kelly opened her mouth to scoff, but the eyes fixed on hers stopped her. ‘I guess not. He won’t be back for a day or two. I think he’s–’ She broke off. Mia would go bananas if she said Dad had gone mad. They should talk about something else. ‘Mia, do you know where my mum is?’

  ‘London. She’s looking for you.’

  Kelly moaned. There was her answer, and talk about crying wolf…

  ‘Kelly, why did your dad lock you up here?’

  ‘I guess he was mad at me.’ That was putting it mildly. ‘I went into St Ives when he’d said I couldn’t, and the last thing I remember is being on the bus coming home again.’

  That was the worst part of all – what had happened in the hours she’d lost? Kelly sniffed. Now she was the one doing the crying, and that set Mia off. Violent shivers were shaking though the child by her side, and Mia’s teeth were chattering.

  This was no good. ‘Okay. Mia.’ Kelly reached out and gripped the child’s hot hand. ‘We have to think. People will be looking for you around here, even if they think I’m in London. We have to work out how to attract attention.’

  Mia tilted her head to one side. ‘We could scream?’

  ‘I tried that and nobody heard except him. He was angry with me for it, too, didn’t bring food for days afterwards. And we don’t know when he’s in the house and when not.’ And no way, just no way could she stand a repetition of the howling at the door episode.

  ‘The window?’ Mia was sitting straight.

  Kelly bit her lip. The window was too s
mall for her to climb through even if she’d had something to stand on. Mia might manage, but… ‘We can’t reach it.’ It was boarded up, anyway.

  Mia pouted, her head on one side. ‘You could lift me up. If we can open the window and bang the board off, I could squeeze through.’

  Kelly walked over and examined the slit of a window above her head. ‘That’s a long shot, kid. But worth a try. It’s a pity we don’t know what time it is. He’d definitely be at work mid-mornings and mid-afternoons, so it would be safer to make a noise then.’

  Mia came and stood beside her. ‘I have a watch.’ She slid the sleeve of her sweatshirt back and held out a wrist with what Kelly could just make out was a My Little Pony watch. It was quarter to nine.

  The unexpected chunk of normality was stunning. They knew what time it was. ‘Wow – brilliant! Now we need to work out what day it is.’ Bashing down windows at the weekend when her father was more likely to be at home was a no-no.

  Mia couldn’t help with this, though, and Kelly retreated to the mattress to think, while Mia wandered around the walls, tapping. Kelly watched, warmth towards her cellmate increasing by the minute. Someone to speak to made a huge difference, it was as if the heaviness pressing her to the ground had been – not lifted, but halved. The window idea might work; Mia was a skinny little thing. Pity it was a back window, though. It would have been easier to attract the attention of someone passing by from a window overlooking the road.

  ‘The walls and roof here are like at my dance studio, to keep the noise in.’

  Mia pointed upwards, and Kelly got to her feet to see better. Holy cow. Huge square tiles covered the ceiling and spread down over the walls, merging into the decades of grime. The place was soundproofed, had been forever, by the look of it.

  Mia stood in the toilet doorway. ‘It’s smelly in there.’

  ‘At least we have one,’ said Kelly, warmth prickling again at the ‘we’.

  Mia shot her a look and trailed back into the room, peering into the dimness above them. ‘What’s the hook in the ceiling for?’

  ‘Don’t ask me. It’s no help to us, anyway.’

  Mia heaved a huge sigh, and came back to flop beside Kelly. ‘I’m hungry. Can I have something to eat?’

  It was weird, the way Mia was treating her like the adult in the room here. Before, they’d been more like sisters. Kelly leaned over and peered into the box. ‘We have bread, and an apple.’ She passed the apple and one of the remaining slices to Mia, who had eaten almost nothing since her arrival in their prison. Things would get uncomfortable if Dad didn’t bring another box soon.

  It was late afternoon when footsteps thumped down the cellar stairs. Mia, who was sitting nearest the door, scrambled to the other side of Kelly and huddled against her. Kelly’s thoughts raced. Some basic info would help them find a way to attract attention. And imprisoning her was one thing, but imprisoning his neighbour’s granddaughter was a whole lot more serious. The police must be involved now. Dad must be bricking it.

  As usual, the door slid open and her father’s arm appeared, pushing a Tesco box. Would it be worth ambushing him, next time he came? If she could grab his arm, Mia might be able to escape. Too late for that this time; the door was closing already…

  ‘Is this Sunday?’ she said wildly.

  ‘You’re a day out.’ The voice was sarcastic, hurtful, and something else, too – it was almost as if he’d sung it at her. The door slammed, and the footsteps retreated.

  Kelly pulled over the box. It was heavier than usual, so he’d given them food for two. And at least this time she hadn’t had to listen to a torrent of abuse. That would be thanks to Mia being here. She rummaged, then pulled out two muesli bars and gave one to Mia.

  ‘Why did you ask if it was Sunday?’

  Kelly opened her bar and bit. ‘I thought it might be Sunday. It’s still the afternoon, when he’d normally be at work. I should have asked what day it was, though. Still.’ She chewed, thoughts racing. They could rule out Tuesday to Friday…

  ‘Okay – it’s either Monday or Saturday, so the day after tomorrow is either Wednesday or Monday, and it’ll be safe to try yelling out the window, or to see if you’ll fit through it. We shouldn’t bang around tomorrow in case it’s Sunday and he’s home, but after that we can.’

  Mia finished her bar and wiped her fingers on her sweatshirt. ‘Good,’ she said confidently. ‘In my book, some children once found a knife to open a chest. Do you think–’ Unbearably hopeful eyes flitted around the room.

  Kelly rubbed Mia’s thin back. ‘I don’t think you’ll find a knife here, kiddo. But you can look if you like.’

  Was she being stupid, allowing a small girl’s fantasy to give her hope?

  Chapter Seventeen

  Monday, 10th August

  Travelling by train from London to St Ives was even worse than driving there. Nicola tapped her fingers on the handbag she was hugging as the south of England rocked past. The journey was punctuated by interminable stops, and she had to change at St Erth, and unless a) by some miracle Ed answered his phone and b) agreed to come to meet her, she’d have to get a bus to the house when she eventually arrived. And why should he help her, given that she’d announced she was moving her life back to London?

  Every mile was taking her further from the search for Kelly. Nicola turned her face to the window. She did not want to start howling in the middle of a busy train carriage. She breathed from her diaphragm, in and out, forcing her mind to concentrate on the task ahead: collecting furniture for her new London home, a one-bed flat in Poplar, a hundred metres along the road from the newsagent where she’d found a part time job for three months while someone was having a hip replacement, starting in ten days. The pay was crap, but it was a start, and her parents were helping her with the rent. The flat was tiny; she wouldn’t need much, but she wanted her own things – the little secretaire she’d inherited from her grandmother, and the wooden rocking chair she’d bought on impulse three summers ago on a trip to the Lake District. Everything else in the house was ‘hers and Ed’s’, and she had no idea what he’d think about splitting it all between them. And Kelly’s things – she’d need to take these, too, and they wouldn’t all fit in her new mini-flat. Storage – an additional expense – might be looming.

  She called Ed from the new train as it pulled out of St Erth and, of course, he didn’t answer. Nicola texted: Arriving St Ives 14.40, any chance of a lift? She was unsurprised when the message too remained unanswered, but lo and behold, Ed was waiting when the train pulled into St Ives station.

  ‘Wasn’t sure I’d get away,’ was his greeting.

  Nicola fell into step beside him, thinking bitter thoughts about Mars and Venus. She hefted her case into the back of the Land Rover and joined Ed in the front. He put the radio on as they drove through the town, and she shrugged mentally. He could build a wall with music, but they’d have to talk sometime.

  ‘I’m going to hire a van and take some furniture back to my new place in London,’ she said, when he showed no sign of interrupting Ed Sheeran.

  He kept his eyes fixed on the road. ‘Take what you want. As long as I have a bed and a couple of chairs I don’t care. I won’t be keeping the house long.’

  Right. They really were splitting up. ‘We’ll need to sort out finances.’

  ‘Let’s leave that to the lawyers. Have you found one yet?’

  Nicola gave up. Didn’t he care their marriage was coming to an end? And more to the point, didn’t he care about their daughter? He’d been worried about Kelly staying out late in London. What was so different now, when the poor kid had been desperate enough to leave home?

  ‘I’ll get onto that next week,’ she said coolly, manipulating her phone as an excuse to end the conversation. Just like Kelly used to…

  As soon as they arrived, Ed grabbed her case and took it upstairs. ‘I guess you’ll be in the spare room?’

  Too right she would. The mattress was old, but the alternative
was Kelly’s room, which would be unbearable.

  Ed pushed the case into the room and shoved his hands into his pockets. ‘What are you going to do today?’

  Nicola glanced at her phone. It was gone three. ‘I’m meeting Deb Shipton as soon as I can get there, and I won’t be back until later tonight. I’ll hire a van for tomorrow or Wednesday and drive back to London.’

  ‘I’ll take you to St Ives now, if you like, then I’ll get back to the park.’

  ‘Thanks. Give me five minutes to freshen up?’ Nicola hid her surprise – the park was in the other direction. But accepting the offer would save her time and hassle. She dived into the bathroom.

  Coming out, she stepped into Kelly’s room, her heart sinking. A layer of dust covered everything, and the scent of her girl was gone; all you could smell up here was stale air plus the stink from what was now Ed’s room.

  ‘Ready?’ Ed appeared in the doorway, twisting his car key, and Nicola wrenched herself away.

  Fifteen minutes later she was standing outside Deb’s home. Golly, the last time she’d laid eyes on Deb was that day at school after Kelly went missing. Funny how a friendship could grow on the phone and online, and hopefully a few hours of each other’s real-life company wouldn’t ruin it.

  The Shiptons lived in a roomy flat about a hundred yards from Porthminster beach. They were both teachers, and Nicola envied Deb’s easy relationship with her husband Tony, who made them coffee and left them to it. She and Ed had been like that, once upon a time…

  ‘This is such a homey place,’ she said, gazing round the open-plan kitchen and living area, where plants were dotted around every available surface and Hundertwasser prints provided splashes of yellow, green and blue on the walls.

  ‘We think so,’ said Deb, passing the biscuits. ‘It’s perfect for us and the cats, anyway. Have a choc digestive, you need fattening up. I updated the photo on the Facebook page today, and put some new stuff on the other social media sites, did you see it?’