by Linda Huber
Nicola lifted her mug and joined Deb at the laptop. Some things were more unbearable than others when your daughter was missing and you couldn’t move for hurt. Social media was one of the worst. She couldn’t keep away, but oh, those awful troll comments. Now, the sight of Kelly’s photo heading a Facebook page with KELLY: MISSING SINCE JULY 25 across the top had her scrabbling for a tissue.
‘I’m sorry. It’s the same photo on the flyers, but – seeing it with all those posts and the comments underneath…’ She took a deep breath as Deb scrolled down.
‘Don’t worry, Harry and I and the kids are taking care of it. I tweaked Instagram and Twitter too.’
Nicola gazed at the screen as Deb scrolled past images, then clicked onto Twitter, where Missing Kelly had her own profile.
Nicola wiped her eyes. ‘I can never thank you enough. You hardly know her, and you’re doing so much to help.’
Deb smiled sadly. ‘I know enough. She has guts, and she has potential,’ she said, closing the laptop. ‘We need kids like Kelly. And you need to take care of yourself. You’ve lost weight and you’re far too pale. How about a walk on the beach to get your appetite up for dinner?’
Nicola hadn’t often visited Porthminster beach, and she trudged along the sands beside Deb, the Atlantic on her right, busy with high waves whipped up by the blustery west wind. How powerful nature was… and how all-encompassing. Looking out over ocean and sky made her feel about as significant as the tiniest grain of sand beneath her feet. And far away in the middle of all this hugeness of earth, sea and sky was her girl…
‘I have to get back to London,’ she said, clasping her hands together and pressing them against her chin. ‘No one else is looking for her. She could be anywhere and while I’m here I’m doing nothing to find her.’
Deb raised her eyebrows, a determined glint in her eye. ‘You need to tank up some strength. And I really feel that in the circs, staying with your husband isn’t the best idea. Let’s get your stuff into my spare room, and you can help with the search online for a day or two before you go back. That’s potentially just as useful as walking around London.’
Nicola sagged inside. Heaven help her, but she didn’t have the energy to refuse. It was all hopeless, and face it, she didn’t want to go back to London. She hated being there without Kelly, but she had to be there to find Kelly. There was no place on earth for her, and even thinking that while Kelly was missing made her the most selfish, worst mother ever.
They walked back to Deb’s flat, then drove to the house in Coast Road where Deb waited in the car while Nicola ran inside, grabbed her things, left a note for Ed on the table, and left. And she would never, ever sleep in that house again.
Dejection was heavy in Kelly as they stood in what little light there was beneath the boarded-up window. The light from the loo didn’t stretch this far. Any kind of breaking out was going to be hard when you considered the hands working on it were going to be an eight-year-old’s. But Mia was so keen to get going. The thought of escaping, like some characters in a storybook, had jolted the poor kid out of her misery, and Kelly couldn’t bring herself to pour cold water on Mia’s enthusiasm.
‘Think you can get up on my shoulders?’
‘Uh-huh. I do ballet, you know.’ Mia gripped Kelly’s hand. ‘Bend your leg so I can step on your knee.’
Kelly did as she was told and to her utter astonishment, in three steps she had her cellmate’s feet pressing down on her shoulders. It was uncomfortable, but Mia was balancing easily, though it wasn’t what Kelly had envisaged going on in ballet classes. She gripped one thin ankle and leaned her other hand on the wall. The window was the kind that tilted open from the top, which was a real pain – even if they got it open it would be hard for Mia to reach through it to get to the boarding.
‘The handle’s too stiff.’ Mia was yanking at the catch with one hand, hanging on to the narrow window ledge with the other.
‘Try doing it more gently. Or try with the other hand.’
Mia tried for several minutes, but the window remained stubbornly closed and frustration rose in Kelly’s gut. That window must be openable, but Mia wasn’t strong enough.
‘Let’s have a break,’ she said at last.
‘Okay.’ Mia slid down until she was sitting on Kelly’s shoulders, then swung one leg over Kelly’s head and leapt nimbly to the floor.
‘You should be in a circus, kid.’ Kelly rubbed her aching shoulders.
Mia was pouting at the window. ‘I don’t think I’ll get it open just pulling. If I had something to poke about in the catch with…’ She gazed around in the dimness, her mouth drooping.
‘We’ll try again later. Let’s have something to eat.’
‘I’m fed up with muesli bars.’
‘Take a moment to imagine how I feel about them.’
Kelly passed one over, and they sat leaning against the wall below the window. If they ever got out of here, she had a short list of stuff she would never eat again, and muesli bars were right at the top. Closely followed by cold meat and apples. Mia scrunched up her wrapper and tossed it into the box, and hysterical laughter rose in Kelly’s throat. As if it mattered if the whole bloody floor was littered with wrappers. Shit. They might never get out. They might be waist high in empty Tesco boxes and muesli bar wrappers in a year or two. Mia got up and went into the toilet, and Kelly scrubbed her face with her sleeve. She had to keep going; there was Mia to look after now.
The toilet flushing was accompanied by a high-pitched shout. ‘Kelly! Come and help!’
Kelly trailed across the room to find Mia staring up at the cistern, which was settling down. ‘Problem?’
‘Our loo broke at Christmas and we couldn’t find a plumber to come and fix it, so Dad did it. The cistern had bits of metal and stuff inside. If we get a bit out, it might help me open the window.’
At least it was something new to think about. ‘Want to have a look?’ Kelly held out a hand.
Mia climbed up to her shoulders and heaved at the cistern lid.
‘Careful! Don’t drop it on my head,’ said Kelly. ‘What’s it made of?’
‘I don’t know. It’s heavy.’
Not plastic, then. Kelly’s apprehension grew as Mia heaved, leaning forwards at an angle that made it hard for Kelly to keep her balance.
‘It’s coming. It – yes! Oh – I can’t see much inside; it’s all black.’
Mia lurched to the side and the cistern lid slid off. Kelly half-caught it with one hand, breaking its fall before it clattered to the floor.
‘Bloody hell, kid, you’re a liability up there. Come down and we’ll have a think.’ Heart thudding, Kelly leaned her hands on the wall while Mia clambered down. Kelly made her rinse her hands at the sink, then they went back to the mattress.
Kelly sank down and closed her eyes – not that closing them made it much darker. Rage burned at the back of her throat. If she had two minutes alone with him, what wouldn’t she do? But mulling over medieval torture methods was only comforting in the short term. The cellar belonged to today, and if Mia dismantled the cistern, they wouldn’t be able to flush the loo. Which would have consequences Kelly wasn’t sure she wanted to think about.
Mia sat with legs drawn up, elbows on her knees and her chin resting in her hands. ‘What shall we do now?’
Back to being the adult in the room. Kelly tried to sound positive. ‘We can have another go at the window. It might open this time.’
‘I could break it.’
Kelly put an arm around the hopeful little figure beside her. ‘You could. But not before we’ve tried again without resorting to that. You might cut your hands, and all the glass would fall on top of me.’
Mia gave a half-giggle, but it was a short one, and Kelly wasn’t feeling the joy either. You saw news reports all the time, about people – kids, girls like them – who’d been locked up for years. She suppressed a shudder; she’d rather be dead.
‘Ready?’ Kelly could almost hear her
mother’s voice in her head. The sooner you start that homework… It was better to be doing something. She helped Mia onto her shoulders again.
The second attempt was as unsuccessful as the first, and Mia burst into tears. ‘We’ll never get out!’
Kelly hardened her heart. ‘Not if you give up, we won’t. Okay – time for plan B.’
The idea had come while she was in the loo before they started the new attempt. The cistern lid would go through glass like a knife through butter, and they could use it to bash at the board, too. The problem was, it was heavy and Mia would have to heave it up and whack it on the glass. Grandma’s voice spoke this time. Needs must.
‘Feeling strong? Have an apple and let’s get that window broken.’
Kelly hefted the cistern lid through from the loo, and gave it to Mia to try for size. ‘Can you lift it up enough to bang the glass out?’
Mia demonstrated. She needed both hands, but she was able to tap the lid on the wall without dropping it. Kelly took off her sweatshirt to drape over her head when Mia was up, and took her place beneath the window, the lid clutched under one arm. This was going to be awkward.
‘Okay. When you’re up, make sure you have your balance as best you can. I’ll pass you the lid, and whatever you do, don’t drop it on my head.’
Mia’s little face was determined. She grasped Kelly’s free hand and stepped up, balancing easily as usual.
‘Ready? Slowly now…’ Kelly inched closer to the wall and Mia leaned on it with her head while she grasped the lid and heaved it up. For a horrible moment Kelly thought they weren’t going to manage, then Mia straightened up and swayed before catching her balance, the lid in both hands. Kelly arranged her sweatshirt over her head and clutched Mia’s ankles.
‘Okay. Give it a go.’
She couldn’t see a thing, but heavy breathing and grunts accompanied Mia wobbling on Kelly’s shoulders. A wild sway, a crack, and Mia laughed.
‘It’s cracked!’
‘Whack it again.’ Kelly gritted her teeth. Her shoulders were on fire; this had better work.
Another tap, and glass rained around Kelly as sound and air from the garden sucked into the cellar.
She eased her sweatshirt off her head, and more glass tinkled to the floor. ‘Careful. See if you can bash it all away from the frame. Is the board loose at all?’
Mia used the cistern lid to give the board a thump. ‘No.’
‘Okay. Be careful when you–’
‘That was a car door – he’s back!’
Mia dropped the cistern lid to the floor, and the impact rang in Kelly’s ears. She helped Mia down, wincing as her back twisted under the little girl’s panicky movements. And God help them both, that bang had sounded like a shot going off. Dad must have heard it.
Mia ran to huddle in the furthest corner of the mattress, and Kelly thrust the lid back into the loo and went to sit with her. Five endless minutes passed before they heard footsteps on the stairs.
The door opened wider than the usual wedge, and a torch beam played around the room, ending on the mattress.
The voice was sing-song and mocking. ‘Oh, you’ve broken the window. Well, I have news for you. That board is secured with a hundred nails at least – you’ll never get it off. You can have your fresh air, but you’ll regret it in the winter. And if you ever try calling for help, in fact if I hear one squeak from you after this, I’ll be right down to finish you both. It’s summer, you know. I’m on holiday and I have all day to deal with you. Silly little girls.’
The door closed and the key grated in the lock. Kelly flung herself down on the mattress as Mia’s despairing sobs filled the air, then muffled as terror took over. What a shit he was.
Chapter Eighteen
Tuesday, 11th August
The furniture van was ordered for nine o’clock on Tuesday morning, and Rob plodded down to the kitchen at quarter past eight. He’d spent the last two days emptying cupboards, packing boxes, taking stuff to the recycling – anything to stop his mind exploding at the thought that Mia was still gone. If he hadn’t kept busy, he’d have gone stark raving mad by now. The search had stalled, he could tell by the dejection in Mike the FLO’s eyes every time he came through the door. All the guy was useful for was helping to shift furniture. There’d been another sighting in London, but like the first, this one had proved false.
Phoebe banged downstairs with her case while the coffee machine was heating up. She was going back with the van and driver, and her brother would meet them in Brighton and help move Dorothy’s things into her new flat. The plan was for Rob and Dorothy to remain in St Ives until the house sale was organised, then return too. Except Rob still didn’t know how he could leave the place he’d last seen his little girl.
Phoebe slunk into the kitchen and accepted the mug he slid over to her. Rob leaned against the worktop while his espresso was dribbling through. Poor Phoebs, she was still blaming herself, and it wasn’t fair. She was heavy-eyed and pale, and God knows what he looked like. He hadn’t shaved since Mia had gone.
He sat down at right angles to her and reached for her hand. It had taken a few days for him to see that this could easily have happened the other way around, leaving him with the guilt of having gone for a quick shower with his daughter in the house. He’d done exactly that countless times.
‘Phoebe love. It’s–’ What? Okay? Never, but it was as much his fault as hers. He said this, but the dullness didn’t shift from her eyes. She gripped his hand, and they sat without speaking until Dorothy came in and Rob got up to make her a coffee too. His poor mother had aged horribly. This was going to kill them all.
The house phone rang in the living room, and Dorothy jumped up to get it. Rob listened idly to her side of the conversation. Her words caused no flare of hope in his chest.
‘No, nothing … This week, I think … Oh – all right … See you soon.’
She came back and sank down at the table. ‘Anna’s going away for a few days. She’s bringing Scout round this morning.’
‘Shall I take him to Brighton?’ said Phoebe.
Rob didn’t answer – Scout was the last, the very last thing he wanted to think about.
‘Leave him here,’ said Dorothy heavily. ‘He can come back with us. I’m sure a long road trip so soon after his operation wouldn’t be ideal.’
Rob went to make sure the furniture going to Brighton was all labelled clearly. He’d checked it last night too, but it was something to do. Finding Mia alive was less and less likely with every passing hour. That brutal truth would drive him mad, but how could he stop thinking it? Mia was in his head every single millisecond of every single agonising hour. He punched the stair post as he passed, but the pain was nothing compared to…
He helped the men with the heavier pieces when the van arrived, while Phoebe and Dorothy brought out the boxes and bags. Scout arrived in the middle of the upheaval, and Rob put him round the back, safely tied to the garden table. He would never forgive this poor creature for taking him away from his daughter for long enough for – what? – to happen.
Phoebe came to him when everything was loaded, and he held her close. He still didn’t know if they’d survive this, as a couple, but he knew he wanted to. He kissed her forehead.
‘Take care, Phoebs. Call me when you arrive.’
The van rattled down Coast Road, through the media presence – much smaller today; Christ, people had short memories – and disappeared. Rob stuffed his hands into his pockets. It was time to call the police and ask for a non-progress report. He spoke to Mike, telling him no, they were fine today, they didn’t need a visit unless there was something concrete to report, and for God’s sake go and do something concrete… then joined his mother in the garden.
‘Nothing new. What time are we meeting the holiday lets people?’
‘Half past two. I do hope we can come to an agreement.’
Rob hoped so too. He wouldn’t have cared, but an agreement meant the potential for serious
reward money quickly. And the moment they knew, he was going to offer a reward, police or no police. If Mia was alive, he was going to get her back.
By four o’clock they were home again, with an offer of two hundred and seventy thousand to consider, less than they’d hoped for.
‘We can sleep on it,’ said Dorothy firmly. ‘Take Scout out to the garden, Rob, while I get us something to eat. We didn’t have lunch.’
Rob trailed outside, and flopped into a deckchair while Scout nosed around. This had been a real nothing, blank kind of day. And unless they found Mia, the rest of his life was going to be a blank. He closed his eyes and concentrated on remembering Mia’s voice, her smell, the soft firmness of her little body when she ran into his arms. But he couldn’t. She was gone.
‘Excuse me.’
The voice came from his left, and Rob opened his eyes to see Ed Seaton clutching Scout’s collar.
‘He was in my garden again. There are unripe apples on the ground – he eats them. You’d best keep him at home.’
Rob struggled to know what to say. Scout must have found another hole in the fence, but this man of all people should know that a dog eating apples was so totally insignificant – and where was the empathy? Any news of your girl? I know how you feel; it’s hellish. But no. Keep your dog out my garden was uppermost in Ed Seaton’s head.
‘Don’t worry,’ he said, not caring if he sounded offhand. ‘We’ll be out of your hair soon enough. Come here, Scout.’
Ed Seaton released the dog. ‘I’m sorry about your daughter,’ he said, and hurried from the garden.
Rob attached Scout to a lead and tied it to his chair. The wagging tail and eager panting were intolerable – he would give the dog back to Dave. He clutched his hair and moaned aloud. God help him, he had just implied the unthinkable: they might not get Mia back. No, no, no.
Dorothy came out with cheese toasties. ‘Let’s accept the offer, Rob. If we get everything signed quickly, we could be on our way – home – in a couple of days.’
