by Darren Young
Danni was stunned.
‘Has anyone said anything to you?’ said Laura.
Danni was pale with shock. She shook her head. ‘So Jessica really is alive?’
‘He implied it.’
‘What do we do now?’
Laura shrugged. ‘They only said to forget about Jessica. They didn’t mention you or Sandra so I don’t know how much they know.’
‘We met and talked. Then this? That’s too much of a coincidence, surely?’
‘I got the email before we met.’
‘Email?’
Laura told Danni about that too.
‘Why didn’t you say something?’
She wished she had, because she could tell that Danni was now wondering what else she hadn’t told her since this had all begun. ‘I just thought it was someone looking out for Sandra.’
‘And now?’
‘It’s more than that. Now they’ve realised the email wasn’t enough to stop me.’
‘You have to tell the police.’
Laura looked up from her pad.
‘You have to,’ Danni said. ‘They’ve threatened your family. It’s too much.’
‘It’s not that simple.’
‘They need to know too,’ said Danni.
Laura nodded her agreement. ‘I will tell them,’ she said, ‘and the police.’
‘Good.’
Laura looked directly into Danni’s eyes. ‘But not straight away.’
‘What?’
‘I want to show Sandra your picture first. Did you get a photo of you as a child?’
Danni shook her head and explained what had happened.
‘The one I’ve got will have to do. I just need her to see it.’
‘But—’
‘And if,’ said Laura, cutting her challenge off before she could get going, ‘she thinks you might be Jessica, then it’s a matter for the police and I’ll just be the one who breaks the story.’
‘Breaks the story? This is people’s lives.’
Laura lowered her voice and leaned in towards Danni. ‘If I go to the police too soon, it will become a circus. They will leak it to their press sources, and it’ll be everywhere. We’ll lose control, and you and Sandra will be thrust in the spotlight whether you like it or not.’
Danni didn’t look convinced.
‘Look,’ Laura said quietly but with authority, ‘I know you think it’s about the story, but think about what this will do to you and your dad if we’re wrong? How will he feel if it all comes out?’
Now Danni seemed to come around to her thinking. ‘But what about the man?’
‘We keep our heads down. Don’t meet up again until I’ve seen Sandra. No texts, no phone calls until I find out one way or the other if there’s a chance you could be her.’
‘When will that be?’
‘As soon as.’ Laura explained that she’d need to get more time off work and that her boss wasn’t going to be pleased.
‘Shouldn’t we just go and see her together? Now?’
Laura had considered it, but she knew it would be a lot for Sandra to take in and she doubted she had the mental strength to deal with it. ‘I think a photo would be less stressful for her.’
‘You care about her,’ said Danni.
‘After what she’s been through, I’d do anything to not see her hurt any more.’
Danni nodded. ‘What do you think will happen? If I am her?’
‘Let’s not jump the gun.’
‘My dad would be arrested, wouldn’t he?’
‘He would have abducted you, Danni. He’ll be in a lot of trouble.’
‘Do you think it was him who threatened you?’
‘The man was way too young to be anywhere near your dad’s age.’
‘But he could have—’
Laura put her hand on Danni’s. ‘Look, one step at a time. I’ll go and see Sandra, and you sit tight until then.’
Danni nodded, her eyes watery and wide open.
‘Just don’t say anything to anyone,’ Laura added, ‘and try to act as normal as you can around your dad.’
‘That’s easy to say,’ said Danni. ‘I’m not sure I’ll be able to look him in the eye.’
45 | Laura
‘Feet up.’
Laura lifted her legs and balanced her feet on the waste-paper bin as the cleaner pushed the hoover under her desk and then moved away without a word.
‘You’re welcome,’ Laura said under her breath. She wasn’t used to sharing the office with the cleaning staff, but then she had never been in the office this early before.
David couldn’t hide the surprise on his face when he walked in and found her at her desk. ‘Feeling better?’ he asked in a tone that sounded as though he knew he was duty-bound to ask the question.
‘Yes, thanks, David,’ she said, and blushed for effect.
The editor was already beginning to move away, his obligatory health check completed, and Laura didn’t make any attempt to stop him. Instead, she buried her head back into the work on her desk until lunchtime.
It was what they all called a ‘slow news day’ at the paper, with nothing of significance happening locally, or, it seemed, in the wider world. There was never a better time to get up to date with any non-urgent tasks, and, as she filed paperwork and reorganised the documents on her laptop, Laura had plenty of time to think about her meeting with Sandra, whom she called during her lunch break and arranged to meet at the weekend; she couldn’t justify taking any more time off.
She began to imagine what would happen if Sandra thought that Danni was her missing daughter.
David had always said that a reporter should be at least two steps ahead of the story, anticipate the outcomes and be prepared for each eventuality. Laura had seen Kelly Heath do this on many occasions: have a strategy that covered different paths so that she wasn’t thrown off course by an unexpected turn of events.
If Sandra did make a positive ID, or even anything resembling one, Laura would need a detailed execution plan, because she would have just a tiny window before the national and international media took over. She knew her only real opportunity was to get her name under the breaking news and, after that, try to secure the first interviews with Sandra and Danni. She was in a strong position to do that, but who knew what would happen when the big publications waded in and made huge offers for their exclusive side of the story?
Her afternoon was taken up with crossing items off her task list and daydreaming about the breaking story. She stayed at her desk after all the other staff had left and only David was still in his office; his full attention was taken by Kelly’s latest article, so he didn’t interrupt her, but she knew he’d be pleased with her commitment to make up for the time she’d missed.
On her way home she stopped at the retail park on the edge of the town to buy a voice recorder from the big stationery chain there. David had never made a secret of his distrust of modern technology and always reminded the staff that, if they must record interviews, rather than use traditional methods, they should use their own equipment, because the Gazette wasn’t going to reimburse them. That was fine for a local paper and local stories, but Laura knew that if the Jessica Preston story broke it would be far from a small, local story and she would need to be prepared in every way possible – which included not being left behind or disadvantaged because she didn’t have the right equipment. So it was after eight o’clock when her red VW Polo pulled on to the drive.
The house was silent; unusually so, because her mother’s car was on the drive, and she could see the tyre marks on the frosty ground that her dad had left as he put his car in the garage. She’d have expected to find them talking in the kitchen, or hear the television on in the lounge, but there was no sound. They must have gone to bed early.
As she opened the door to the living room, Mimark waddled out, nudging his head into her shins as he walked past her on his way to his water bowl. The room was dim, with just a small table lamp on in the corn
er, and as she walked in she expected to find it empty, but her parents were both awake. Her father was sitting up on the chair and her mother on the sofa, and they had clearly been waiting for her.
There was a parcel on the table between them.
‘What’s up?’ Laura said – casually, although she knew something was wrong from their expressions and she had guessed what the parcel was.
‘Maybe you should tell us,’ her father said.
Laura screwed up her face as if she didn’t know what he was talking about.
‘I ran into David Weatherall this morning, on my way to work.’
‘Oh.’
‘He said that he hoped you were feeling better.’
Laura gulped. ‘Ri-ight,’ she stuttered.
‘Why weren’t you at the paper?’ her mother said.
‘What did you say to him?’ Laura looked at her father.
‘I told him you were.’
‘How much time have you taken off work?’ her mother asked.
Laura didn’t answer the question. ‘Thank you, Dad,’ she said instead.
‘Laura, why have you been missing work?’ her mother said.
‘I can explain.’
Her father picked up the parcel and passed it to her. It had already been opened at one end and clumsily resealed. She didn’t need to open it to know who or where it was from, but she did it anyway, and took out the deodorant-sized, redtopped aerosol can with the words Attack Defence Spray in bright yellow on it.
They both looked at her. Her father raised his eyebrows.
‘I think you’d better tell us everything.’
46 | Laura
‘There’s no point my saying I’m not disappointed.’
Her father looked at her. He and Helen had listened without interruption until that point as Laura explained why she had lied to them and to her boss.
‘I’m sorry,’ she said, because it was the only thing she could think of to say.
Laura was a little intimidated by her father. He wasn’t a shouter, not one to rant and show his emotions, and she had always wished he had been, because when he was upset – when the line had clearly been crossed – it manifested in the look he had on his face now: the haunted expression of someone who had failed. She’d have taken him screaming at her any day instead of that.
Usually it was her mother who spoke up on her behalf, but that wasn’t going to happen either. Helen was showing no signs of her usual solidarity with Laura, and had the same expression as her husband.
‘I thought you could tell me anything,’ she said quietly.
‘I could. I can.’
‘So what was so different this time?’ her father asked.
She looked down. The response she settled on was to say nothing. She didn’t want to tell them what was in her head: that she wanted to prove to them, or specifically to her father, that she was good enough, smart enough and strong enough. There had never been a doubt with her mother, who encouraged and championed her all the time; but she’d always felt a need to demonstrate to her father that she had what it took.
She wasn’t even sure if was just in her head, but it had always been there. She knew it was the reason she’d clung to her goal of becoming a journalist in the first place: because her father had questioned her career choice and her capability. When he’d helped her get the job at the Gazette, that had made things several times worse.
So she’d been determined to be the one breaking the story of the missing girl in the shopping centre, and it was the reason she wanted to be the person who broke the story of Jessica Preston being alive to the world.
‘You know that I had to call in a favour with David.’
‘I know, Dad,’ she said resisting an urge to roll her eyes.
‘How do you think I felt?’
She wanted to say it wasn’t about him or how he felt but about the story, and that, as a journalist, it always had to be about the story, and that sometimes she had to protect herself, her sources and the story itself. But she sat quietly instead.
‘And you don’t know this girl, or what she might be involved in.’
‘She contacted me. And David wouldn’t have let me go if I’d asked him.’
‘Rightly so,’ her father said, a little too smugly for Laura’s liking.
‘I couldn’t not go and see her once I’d set it up.’
‘Anything could have happened,’ said Helen.
Laura looked at her for more support. She’d known about the interview, after all.
‘I can take care of myself.’
‘With this?’
Her mother held up the yellow can. Laura had left out a significant detail up to that point; the one that had made her so eager to talk to Danni in person.
‘I just wanted to be safe.’
‘Safe?’
She explained about the threat on the coastal path and her parents’ demeanour changed from one of disappointment to shock. Her mother also turned very pale.
‘Goodness,’ Robert Grainger said, shaking his head.
Laura let her fingertips run over the can, still wrapped in a plastic coating. ‘Journalism can be dangerous.’
‘In war zones,’ her father said sharply. ‘You work for the local rag, and you shouldn’t ever have to face that kind of threat.’
‘This is a bigger story than the Gazette.’
‘But that’s who you work for.’
‘Not for ever. This could be my big break.’
‘If it’s true,’ her mother said.
‘If I’m being threatened, then I must be on to something.’
Her parents exchanged a look. ‘I think we need to get the police involved,’ her father said.
‘No!’ shouted Laura, bolting upright. ‘If you do, the story’s gone.’
‘It’s your story,’ they both said, almost in perfect harmony.
‘It won’t be. The police have their own people who they tip off. The Gazette won’t get a look-in. And David will pass on the scraps we do get to Kelly Heath.’
‘He wouldn’t.’
‘Don’t overestimate him, Dad. You might be able to call in favours from him but he wouldn’t let me near this, believe me.’
‘So you’d rather be looking over your shoulder?’ said Helen.
‘And have us all do the same?’ her father added.
‘I need to finish this!’ Laura protested.
‘Even if it means someone getting hurt?’
‘No. But it would change everything for me.’ She looked over at her mother, begging for her to back her up. ‘It would make me a real journalist.’
‘You are one.’
‘I mean a real one. Not just at some local rag.’
Laura looked at her father, whose face was thunderous. ‘She didn’t mean it like that,’ Helen said hastily. ‘The Gazette is a real newspaper.’
‘Oh, really? Only a week ago, you said I could be studying in America so I could get into a bigger paper,’ said Laura. ‘Make your mind up.’
Helen looked away.
‘This would do more for me than ten years in New York. Can’t you see that?’
They paused.
‘So, this Danni girl – can you trust her?’
For the first time since she’d walked into the room Laura felt she could see a chink of light, and, although it was still some way into the distance, she was getting through to them.
‘I think so.’
‘And Sandra Preston?’ her mother said. ‘Are you sure she can handle this?’
‘No,’ said Laura, ‘but she’s saner than most people I know.’
‘Have you thought about what it might do to her, if it goes badly?’
‘No worse than sitting there and never knowing.’
Her mother and father looked at each other again. Laura had seen this tactic before, their version of bad cop and worried cop where they hit her with concerns and objections in waves until she could no longer hold them at bay. They had used it when she’d sai
d she wanted to become a journalist, and almost worn her down. She needed a counter-punch.
‘What if it were you, Mum, and not Sandra?’
‘Excuse me?’
‘What if I’d been taken from you at that age? What if you were in that place, sitting staring out of the window? Wouldn’t you want someone to help you?’
Her parents just looked at her, and the tension dissipated a little.
‘Don’t use emotional black—’ her father finally started, but Laura was expecting it.
‘I’m not. It’s just a question.’
Silence.
‘You’ve always told me to do the right thing. So which is it?’
More silence.
Laura’s father began to speak but her mother shook her head, and Laura decided to quit too while she was marginally ahead. She thought it sensible to hold back the one piece of information she hadn’t told them yet.
That she was going to see Sandra again at the weekend.
47 | Danni
Danni and Sam hugged, and that marked the end of the silence between them.
‘I shouldn’t have done that. I’m sorry,’ Sam told her.
‘It’s OK.’ Danni smiled. She knew Sam’s intentions were well placed and, although she could be heavy-handed at times, she had been trying to help.
‘I just wanted to get you two talking. And the job seemed a good way.’
‘I know.’
‘And, when this Laura thing is over, you might want that job.’
‘If it’s ever over.’
‘Even if you are this girl, you can still be her in Southampton.’
‘If I am,’ Danni said, ‘then I doubt anything will ever be the same again.’
Sam nodded. Danni hadn’t told her yet – this was the first time they’d spoken in three days – but she had contacted the company about the job and explained that she had some family issues to sort out, and they’d graciously agreed to give her until Monday to make her decision.
‘Do you think she’ll recognise you, just from a photo?’
Danni shrugged. ‘Laura thinks it’s the best thing to do.’
Sam rolled her eyes.
‘What?’
‘Forget what Laura thinks. What about what you think?’
