by Cathy Glass
John went ahead and showed them through to the lounge, where we sat on the sofas. I was conscious that John and I were in our dressing gowns, ruffled and disorientated from suddenly waking, while the two officers were meticulous in their uniforms and professionally alert. The officer who was doing the talking, and seemed to be the more senior, took a printed sheet from his jacket pocket, and began going through Dawn’s details. The details were those I had given to the officer when I had reported Dawn missing. As he read them out we confirmed they were correct. The other officer watched and listened, occasionally glancing at John and me; he was only in his mid-twenties and I assumed he was a relatively new recruit. When the senior officer finished checking Dawn’s details, he asked us for a recent photograph of Dawn.
‘I’m sorry,’ I said. ‘We don’t have one. I explained to the officer I spoke to earlier. He said you might have one on record, as Dawn has gone missing before.’
‘No,’ he said. ‘We returned Dawn’s photograph to her mother when Dawn was found. It’s usual to do so. I take it Dawn hasn’t been in touch?’
‘No,’ John and I said together.
‘Her details have been circulated,’ the officer confirmed, ‘so it’s only a matter of time before she resurfaces and we pick her up.’ There was an air of routine in his manner, which I assumed was a result of Dawn having gone missing before. But our worry was that this time the outcome could be different and Dawn might not simply reappear.
‘We’re very worried,’ I stressed. ‘I know Dawn went missing when she was at her mother’s, but she’s never done it before while she’s been here. And she’s hurt from having cut herself. There was a lot of blood on her pillow.’
The senior office nodded. ‘We’re aware of that. And we’ll have a look at the pillow when we search the house.’
John and I stared at each other aghast. ‘Is it necessary to search our house?’ John asked. ‘Our baby son is asleep upstairs.’
‘We search the home of any missing person,’ the officer replied. ‘You’d be surprised at the number of kids we find hiding in a closet or shed.’
‘Dawn’s certainly not here,’ I said, dismayed. ‘I saw her off at the door this morning, and I’ve been in all day.’
‘I’m afraid we still have to make a search to eliminate the possibility,’ the senior officer said, ‘though we need your permission to do so.’ The other officer nodded.
John and I agreed to the search; if it was missing persons procedure, we couldn’t do anything else, although I felt it was an intrusion on our privacy, and I knew John felt so too. Both officers stood.
‘Let’s make a start with the kitchen,’ the senior officer said. ‘I’m sure you folks want to get back to bed.’
John led the way, and the four of us went into the kitchen. By the back door was the blood-soaked pillow and pillowcase, and the officers’ gaze immediately went to it. I felt even more guilty, as if I had committed some unspeakable crime and was about to dispose of the evidence.
‘I’ve changed the pillow,’ I clarified. ‘I didn’t want Dawn to see it when she came home.’
The senior officer went over to it. ‘If you don’t mind, we’ll take the pillowcase with us,’ he said. ‘Do you have something I can put it in?’
I opened the kitchen drawer where I kept old carrier bags, and taking one out, passed it to him. John and I watched as the officer pinched one edge of the pillowcase between his thumb and forefinger and, carefully lifting it up, dropped it into the carrier bag as if he was removing a piece of evidence from a crime scene. ‘I don’t suppose you want it back?’ he said dryly.
I shook my head.
‘Do you have a shed or any outbuildings?’ he then asked John.
‘No,’ John said. ‘There’s only the garage at the side of the house, and you access that from the front.’
The officer nodded. ‘We’ll check the garage last, on our way out.’ He didn’t ask to check the garden, which I thought was a bit of an oversight if they were doing a thorough search.
The officers moved down the hall to the front room, and John and I followed them. John put on the light, and both officers took a couple of steps into the room, gave it a cursory glance and came out again.
‘Can we go upstairs now, please?’ the senior office asked.
John led the way up, followed by the officers and then me. ‘This is Dawn’s bedroom,’ John said, opening the door and flicking on the light switch. The officers went right in, while John and I waited just inside. I wouldn’t say they made a particularly thorough search of Dawn’s room; they opened the wardrobe, drawers and bedside cabinet, but didn’t really move anything to search beneath the items as I had done. Apparently satisfied, they came out, and John showed them what was to be Adrian’s room, and then the bathroom, while I hovered on the landing.
‘This is our room,’ John said at last, pausing outside our bedroom door. ‘Our son is asleep in his cot.’
‘We’ll try not to disturb him,’ the younger officer said, speaking for the first time.
John pushed open our bedroom door.
‘Could you put the light on please, sir,’ the senior officer asked.
I thought John’s patience was being stretched to the limit, as indeed was mine. Did they really think we would have reported Dawn missing if we had concealed her in our bedroom? But I supposed if they search a house, it had to be every room. John switched on the light and we went in, followed by the officers. I immediately crossed to Adrian’s cot while the officers surveyed the room. Adrian’s eyes flickered open but then obligingly closed again. ‘That’s fine,’ the senior officer said, and he and his colleague went out, followed by John and me.
‘We’ll take a look in the garage now, please,’ the senior officer said as we went downstairs. ‘Is it locked?’
‘I’ll open it for you,’ John said picking up the garage key from where we kept it on the hall table.
‘I’ll say goodnight, then,’ the senior officer said to me. ‘We’ll let you know as soon as we have some news.’
‘Thank you,’ I said, and I waited in the hall while John went outside with the officers.
John returned two minutes later, dropped the key on the table and closed and bolted the front door without saying anything. I knew from his silence that he was taking the intrusion very badly, and I appreciated why. For while I understood the reasons for the search being necessary, it was not only a violation of our privacy but had left us with a nasty feeling of being in some way implicated in Dawn’s disappearance. I knew from John’s look that the search, together with another night’s lost sleep, and his ominous silence, was another nail in the coffin for Dawn staying with us.
By the time we returned to bed, it was nearly 3.00 a.m., which meant there were only three hours left before Adrian woke and our morning routine began. I was wide awake now, and lay in bed trying to force myself to sleep while my thoughts chased. Where on earth could Dawn be? Where could she be spending the night? Had she met up with her old crowd, the ‘bad lot’ her mother had spoken of and getting into trouble with them? Was she sleeping at one of their homes, or was she alone and on the streets, trying to find shelter in a doorway? Although it was the end of April, the nights were still chilly and she didn’t have her coat with her. I couldn’t think of any other place Dawn could be other than at a friend’s house or on the streets. Despite all the worry she had caused us, my main concern, as I was sure it was John’s, was for Dawn’s safety.
Please God, I prayed, send her back to us, or at least get her to phone to say she is safe. I stared into the darkness and shivered.
Chapter Fourteen
Easier to Cut
Dawn didn’t return the next day, nor the day after, although I willed and prayed for her to do so. The next day was Thursday, and the police and duty social worker phoned in the late afternoon to ask if we’d heard anything from her, which we hadn’t. The police said they had checked the local hospitals and no one matching Dawn’s descriptio
n had been admitted or visited casualty. I wasn’t sure if this made it better or worse. Dawn had been missing for three whole days now and I was thinking that something dreadful must have happened to her, for I was sure she would have returned by now or at least phoned if it hadn’t. She had little money and no clothes, and I began to imagine her lifeless body lying undiscovered in a wood or lake. During those days I continued something of a routine for Adrian, but Dawn was constantly in my thoughts and overshadowed everything I did. No matter what I turned to to occupy me, I was always listening out, hoping against hope that the door bell or phone would ring and bring news of Dawn. But it didn’t.
When I opened the mail on Friday morning it included a statement from the accounts department at the social services saying that the fostering allowance was now being paid into our bank account, which I thought was cruelly ironic. It had taken over three months for the payments to start and they had finally begun the week Dawn went missing. It was like rubbing salt into an open wound, although it was just the system being slow. I made a mental note to phone the accounts department and tell them Dawn wasn’t here, for clearly we had no right to the allowance if we weren’t looking after her. I then began morbidly speculating about what I would do with all Dawn’s belongings if she didn’t come home, visualising having to pack up all her things and then give them to her social worker or mother. It was a truly dreadful week, and John and I felt that we had been left to cope with it alone. Apart from the one phone call from the duty social worker on Thursday there had been nothing from the social services – no offer of support or even a reassuring word.
The school secretary at St James’s phoned on Friday morning and asked if Dawn was still missing, and I had to swallow hard before I replied, ‘Yes.’ The secretary said that the police had visited the school the day before and had spoken to the Head of Year, and also to Dawn’s class. The police officer had asked the class if anyone had any idea where Dawn could be, which no one did. He said he’d leave a telephone number with the class teacher, where he could be contacted if anyone remembered anything that might help.
During that weekend John and I decorated the bathroom, more as a displacement for our anxieties than out of any real desire to see it finished. We worked in silence and took little pleasure from the result. The following day and Dawn would have been missing for a whole week.
* * *
On Monday evening, as John and I sat at the table, with Adrian in his high chair, finishing our evening meal, the front door bell rang.
‘I’ll get it,’ I said with no enthusiasm, believing it was a salesperson seeking new business. ‘You finish your dinner. I’ve had mine.’
I went down the hall to the door, wondering why canvassers always managed to call at dinner-time. Double glazing, wall cavity insulation, offers to re-tarmac the drive – we’d had them all at dinner-time. But as I opened the door my heart missed a beat and I struggled for my next breath.
‘Dawn!’ I cried. ‘My God! You’re home! Where have you been? Thank goodness you’re safe!’ I grabbed her hand and, drawing her into the hall, threw my arms around her and hugged her tight.
I felt Dawn’s arms tightly around me and I thought she was as pleased to see me as I was to see her.
‘Dawn,’ I said after a moment, releasing her and standing back. ‘Where have you been, love? Are you all right? We’ve been worried sick.’
She smiled, her pleasant open features unmarred by anything she had experienced or suffered. ‘I’m sorry, Cathy. I hope you haven’t been too worried.’
I hesitated, taken aback. ‘Well, yes, love, we have. John and I have been very worried, and Adrian’s missed you.’ Which was true. Although Adrian wasn’t old enough to be talking yet, he’d continually looked around the rooms as though expecting to see another person besides John and myself.
‘Did he really miss me?’ Dawn asked, smiling again.
‘Yes, love. We all have. Now come through. John’s just finishing his dinner with Adrian.’
Dawn dropped her school bag in the hall and then retrieved her slippers from where she’d left them under the coat stand nearly a week before. It was then I noticed she wasn’t wearing her school uniform, as she had been when she’d left. She was now dressed in slim-fitting jeans and a black jumper, neither of which I had bought for her.
‘You’ve got some new clothes,’ I said lightly, as we went down the hall.
‘Don’t worry,’ she said. ‘I haven’t lost my school uniform. It’s in my bag.’ And I was immediately struck by the inappropriateness of what she said – Dawn had cut her arm and had gone missing for a week, and she thought I would be worried about a lost uniform! It was a gross misconception, but I didn’t comment.
‘Come in and say hi to Adrian and John,’ I said as Dawn hesitated outside the breakfast room door. I was aware we had some serious talking to do, but for now I was just pleased to have Dawn safely back and hoped that John would save the lecture for later too.
Following me in, she said a subdued hello to John, and then went straight to Adrian. Adrian grinned, clearly recognising her, and Dawn began chucking him under the chin and coochi-cooing. ‘How are you?’ she asked. ‘Have you missed me? Have you been a good boy?’
‘He’s crawling now,’ I said, returning to my seat at the table and taking a sip of my water. ‘Do you want something to eat?’
‘No thanks.’
I looked at John opposite, and motioned for him not to say too much, for I could see he was taken aback, as I was, by the ease with which Dawn had strolled in, apparently without a care in the world, and was virtually continuing where she had left off.
‘How have you been, Dawn?’ John asked stiffly, finishing the last of his dinner.
Dawn looked up from Adrian and smiled politely. ‘I’m good, thanks.’
I met John’s gaze and shook my head, again saying we must leave talking until later.
‘I’m going to shower and change,’ John said, pushing back his chair.
‘Can I have a bath later?’ Dawn asked.
‘Of course, love, after John has finished. Are you sure you don’t want anything to eat? We’ve had our dinner but I can do you some pasta or a fry-up.’ John threw me a glance as he left the table, suggesting that perhaps I was being too accommodating after all the worry Dawn had caused us, but clearly the poor girl couldn’t go hungry.
‘No thanks, Cathy,’ she said. ‘I’ve had something. I think I’ll go to my room for a bit, if that’s OK?’
I nodded. ‘As you like. We’ll have a chat later when I’ve seen to Adrian.’
She smiled, and went out after John. I heard them both go upstairs without speaking; then John went into the bathroom and Dawn went to her room, and I heard both doors close.
I sat back in my chair and sighed, relief and concern flooding through me. I was so happy to see Dawn again, safe and well, that part of me just wanted to leave what had happened and move on. But there were questions that had to be asked, and reassurances and explanations that had to be given. Dawn needed to appreciate just how much trouble and worry she had caused John and me, for so far nothing Dawn had said had suggested she had the slightest idea what we had been through. I still didn’t know what had caused her to cut and then run away, and I needed to hear her promise she wouldn’t do it again.
I stood, and went to Adrian, and lifting him from his high chair gave him a big squeeze. ‘You won’t ever cause us this much worry, will you, little man?’
Adrian babbled his baby talk – ‘Da, da, da, mmmmm’ – and then I could have sworn he said, ‘No.’
At eight o’clock, when John had showered and changed and was in the lounge, and I had settled Adrian for the night, I knocked on Dawn’s bedroom door.
‘Come in,’ she called brightly.
I opened the door and stuck my head round. She was on the bed listening to her Walkman. She took out one earphone so that she could hear me. ‘I’d like you to come down now, please, Dawn, so we can have a chat. Afte
r that you can have your bath.’
She obligingly took out the other earphone and switched off the Walkman. ‘I’ll be down in a minute,’ she said. ‘I need to go to the toilet first.’
‘OK, love.’
John and I sat in the lounge, and a couple of minutes later Dawn appeared. ‘Is Adrian in bed?’ she asked, sitting cross-legged on the floor, as she did sometimes.
‘Yes,’ I said. ‘He tires himself out now he’s crawling.’
‘I haven’t seen him crawl yet.’
I smiled. ‘You will do tomorrow. There’s no stopping him.’
Dawn was apparently relaxed and chatty, although I could feel the tension rising in me. I glanced at John and wondered which of us would begin what we needed to say. John cleared his throat and, folding the newspaper, laid it to one side.
‘Dawn,’ he said evenly. ‘I don’t think you realise the extent of the worry you have caused us. You left the house to go to school on Tuesday morning and we haven’t seen or heard from you since. Cathy found blood on your pillow and was beside herself with worry. She had to report you missing to the police.’ I let out a small gasp and my hand instinctively shot to my mouth.
‘Oh,’ I said. ‘I haven’t phoned the police to tell them Dawn’s back.’ In all the fervour of Dawn’s return I’d completely forgotten, and, apparently so too had John.
Dawn looked at us. ‘There’s no rush,’ she said. ‘I can’t imagine they’re trying to find me – they didn’t before.’ The leisurely manner in which she said it, coupled with her lack of concern for what had been happening in her absence, didn’t go unnoticed.
‘Dawn,’ John said firmly, his voice rising slightly. ‘Quite apart from our worry, do you have any idea of the amount of police time that has been wasted by you going off? The police went to your school, and searched our home. I think you owe us an explanation, and apology.’
‘Sorry,’ Dawn immediately said. ‘I didn’t think you would be worried.’
