He's Gone

by Alex Clare

  It took Robyn a second to realise he was speaking to her. ‘She’s turned one down, sir.’

  ‘I am surprised by that, particularly with the level of interest in her.’ Fell straightened. ‘I expect you to keep on top of things, Guler. Bailley, you are late with a briefing on the burglaries. I expect it first thing on Monday.’ He crossed to the lift.

  Khalid watched Fell go, then turned to Robyn, as if he was about to say something.

  Fell called across the lobby, ‘Guler, I need details of who will be at this community event this evening.’

  Robyn turned to Matthew. ‘Have you thought about trying out for the role of Town Crier?’

  Matthew smiled. ‘When you coach junior football, being able to yell loudly is about the only skill you really need.’ His face became more serious. ‘I spoke to Phil about the missing sweatshirt …’

  ‘I know. It’s not hard to tell when Phil’s pissed off with you, is it?’

  Matthew shook his head. ‘You want me to have another word with him?’

  That was the appropriate way, what Roger would have done. Feeling a sudden rush of energy, Robyn laughed. ‘Thanks but don’t worry. I’ll deal with him.’

  There was a moment of silence as a frown flitted across Matthew’s face. ‘Well, if you’re sure. OK, bye then.’

  Left alone, Robyn glanced towards the front door, where reporters were still milling around. This should be as bad as it got. If Lance had finished his review, there would be no more questions asked and her role would stay a secret. She began climbing the stairs back to her desk. It was always a bad idea to take work problems home: if she was going to think about who’d put the article in her in-tray, she’d do it at work. In the peace of the empty incident room, she considered the facts. Because of the scale of the investigation, more people than usual had been in and out. The pile was larger because she hadn’t kept up with the paperwork. Compared to the car damage, this wasn’t worth getting worked up over; most rookies had silly messages or pictures stuck on their lockers at some point. Someone was just trying to be funny. Someone in the station. Someone who was supposed to be a colleague.

  The clock showed four o’clock. Robyn had lasted a week at work. There was nothing to stop her going home now and shutting the door on the world. Friday evenings were normally the time for a good film and some wine: she could go to the supermarket as they didn’t ask for ID when buying alcohol. On the way to the door, she noticed the autopsy report in the muddle on Graham’s desk and asked herself why the girl had gone to the warehouse. She wondered if part of the reason she was still thinking about the case was because she wanted to make up for time lost in her own uncertainties.

  Back at her desk, Robyn re-read the comments about the first blow. Dr Shepherd’s conclusion suggested the attacker had struck from behind, to stun rather than kill. Robyn let her eyes drift out of focus, trying to picture the scene. There must have been two people and the girl trusted the other person enough to turn her back on them. If she’d met someone in the clubs and wanted a quick shag, there were closer places than the warehouse. Even as somewhere to take drugs, there were dry, secluded places in the Docks without the dust. It was reasonable to suppose ‘they’, the girl and her killer, had arrived by car because the warehouse was at least fifteen minutes’ walk from the town centre. The girl might have been killed elsewhere and dumped but for some reason, the idea didn’t feel right and she tried to work out why.

  A shouted goodbye in the corridor brought Robyn back to the present at ten to six. Of all of the scenes she’d played out in her head, the one she kept coming back to was the girl being alive as she entered the warehouse. Although quiet, the Docks were overlooked and had some CCTV: carrying a body around would be risky unless it was an unplanned attack, which didn’t fit with the body being hidden. No, she must have been alive.

  Mind clear at last, she walked down to her car. Two civilian workers in the car park broke off their conversation as she passed, faces hardening. Behind her, she heard them carry on what they were saying, including something sounding like ‘Janice’. She picked up a Chinese takeaway on the way home and collapsed on the sofa, enjoying the sick feeling from simple gluttony and the pre-supplied laughter from a TV comedy. When the smell from the residue got too much, she ran the water for washing up. The sleeves of her blouse wouldn’t stay rolled up and were quickly soaked.

  She switched on her computer and checked the time Josh’s coach arrived, then swore – she hadn’t realised it was quite so early. It was tempting to log on to a couple of her online profiles and see what other trans-women thought of Robyn so far. There would be a risk she could end up getting sucked into the mix of praise, pity and polemics filling these sites. Bed was the simpler option. She was on her way upstairs, when the phone rang.

  ‘Hello?’

  Her first reaction was delight at Becky’s voice then worry about what she might be about to say. ‘Mum rang me yesterday in a right strop about you.’

  ‘Oh?’ Robyn hoped she sounded casual, rather than terrified at the prospect of Becky siding with Julie.

  ‘She was so cross, she could hardly speak. Seems like you’ve not just upset her, you’ve insulted the whole sisterhood.’

  ‘The counsellors warned me about this. I don’t understand why wanting to be a woman is an insult to women – you’d think it would be the ultimate compliment.’ Robyn was encouraged by a giggle from the other end. ‘Do you think she’s going to write an academic paper about me?’

  The laughter faded. ‘Mum’s having a bit of a hard time at the moment. I think the university is cutting back on budgets for Women’s Studies and, well, she and Richard are going through a bit of a rough patch.’

  Robyn switched the phone from one ear to the other. ‘Ah. Nothing serious I hope. After all, they have been married, what, fifteen years now?’

  Becky sighed. ‘Richard got made redundant last month and now he’s home all day and there’s a bit of what Mum called “reversal of gender roles” with her having to pay the mortgage and I don’t think she likes it.’

  ‘Oh, dear. Well, if there is anything you need, sweetheart, call me, OK? As I said, I’m still your dad.’ There was a brief pause.

  ‘So, what am I supposed to call you now?’

  ‘You can call me Robyn.’

  ‘I’m not calling you by name, that’s creepy.’

  ‘I just thought as you’re an adult now, you wouldn’t want to call me “Dad” anymore.’

  ‘Don’t make this any weirder than it already is. You keep saying I’m the only person in the world who can call you Dad so I’m going to keep doing it.’ There was a pause. ‘Unless there’s something else you need to tell me?’

  Robyn laughed. Becky could joke with her. ‘You don’t need to worry there.’

  ‘Good. Well, I do need to think about this a bit more. I’ll call you in a few days.’

  ‘OK. How’s your play coming?’

  ‘Good, thanks, except I die at the beginning of the second act which is a bit depressing to do over and over again. OK, I’ll call you. Bye, Dad.’

  ‘Bye, sweetheart.’

  Robyn prepared for the morning, unable to shake a vision of Becky lying still and dead with everyone staring and her far away, unable to help.

  At ten o’clock, she put the television on for the evening news, then muted the volume, letting the pictures tell the story. A shot of Gillian carrying Ben to her car. A shot of Janice’s house, an interview with the neighbour. Robyn, Fell and Khalid at the press briefing, all of them hemmed in behind a crush of bodies. A picture of Josh, taken from Facebook. Finally, an unknown man, standing under a ‘Families Need Fathers’ banner. Robyn turned up the volume.

  … condone what’s been done but this is what happens when there’s an attempt to exclude fathers from a child’s life.

  She went to bed.

  SATURDAY 23 JULY

  32

  Robyn was awake before the alarm, even though it was set earlier than us
ual. Getting dressed was simple, the feminine equivalent of what she’d always worn at weekends but she lost precious minutes trying to choose a belt. She hadn’t bothered buying belts, assuming they were all the same, until she found the loops on the new jeans were too narrow. After trying another belt and having the same problem, she gave up and picked a longer t-shirt to cover her waist. She didn’t have time to make up her face, her lips feeling rough without the lipstick.

  She caught up time on the clear roads into London, clutch slipping a couple of times as she got used to the heels on the new ankle boots. Next time, she’d have to bring some flats to drive in. She made herself up in an empty taxi rank at Victoria Coach Station, surprising herself by how much a part of her revelled in being so open.

  Her phone rang. ‘Morning, Josh.’

  ‘Hi. Where are you?’

  Robyn got out of the car. New arrivals streamed out, lugging bags, one boy even carrying a surfboard. A tall youth appeared, recognisable from the picture on Janice’s desk. She waved. Josh crossed the road then stopped a few yards away, shuffling backwards. One bag slid to the tarmac.

  ‘Sorry, I thought you were my lift.’ He wrestled the stray bag back onto his shoulder and started back towards the station.

  Robyn stepped out from behind the car. ‘Josh. I’m DI Bailley. I’m here to pick you up.’

  She reached for the bag, which was about to slip off Josh’s shoulder again. Josh pulled back from her outstretched hand. Under the tan, his face was puffy, eyes bloodshot. ‘You’re Roger Bailley?’

  A large group in matching yellow baseball caps and rucksacks surged across the road behind them, chattering in some other language.

  Robyn nodded. ‘Or, I used to be, until last Monday. I’m Robyn now.’ It was the first time she’d actually said the words.

  Josh swayed to rebalance the bag. He didn’t seem to have heard. A latecomer ran to catch up with the yellow group.

  Robyn raised her voice. ‘I was Roger Bailley. Now I’m Robyn.’ She’d meant to sound positive and had ended up sounding loud.

  Josh rubbed at his stubble. ‘And you’re Mum’s boss?’

  ‘Yes, I’m a detective inspector.’

  Josh opened his mouth once then closed it again. As he swallowed, he lingered on the bulges in Robyn’s t-shirt, then stared into the ground. ‘Mum and Dad are in trouble, aren’t they?’

  Robyn nodded. ‘Yes, they’re in trouble. I’m trying to help them.’ She stepped back and put her hand on the boot, before remembering the things from Janice’s house. She opened a rear door. ‘Josh?’

  Josh shuffled forward, keeping his bag in front of him. Robyn thought now wasn’t the time to upset him and got into the car. Josh loaded his bags, then opened the passenger door, hesitating before sliding in. He shoved buds into his ears, curling his body away from Robyn. She gave up on any idea of conversation and put the radio on. They were out of range of the local station so she switched to Radio Four and let the voices drown the dull beat just audible from his headphones.

  It’s seven o’clock on BBC Radio Four and this is the Today programme. The headlines this morning: there are questions over why it took four days to discover that a missing toddler had been taken by a police officer …

  Robyn switched to Radio Two. At half-past seven, she pulled into a service station. Josh was snoring in a steady rhythm. She’d planned to have breakfast in the café, then considered Josh’s probable embarrassment if they were to walk in together. She glanced over. He appeared to be fast asleep so she left him in the car.

  When she got back, Robyn left the door open, letting in air and the sound of the motorway. Josh murmured, turned his head but didn’t wake. Robyn wondered whether she should touch him. Pulling back, she switched the radio on, turning up the volume. ‘Josh, I’ve got you a bacon roll.’ She held it close to his face.

  A breath turned into a sniff. Josh stirred, opening his eyes. He focused on Robyn and bit his lip.

  Robyn held out the food.

  Josh accepted the roll. ‘Did you get ketchup?’

  Robyn dug in her own bag. ‘Here. You dozed off. Rough journey?’

  Josh balanced the roll and ripped open the sauce.

  ‘Are you OK?’ Robyn winced for the upholstery as the sticky sachet teetered on Josh’s knee. ‘I know this must all be a shock for you.’

  ‘I just can’t believe he’s really my son.’ Josh added three sugars to his tea.

  ‘There’s no doubt.’ Robyn blew on her own tea. ‘Your mother checked his DNA against yours.’

  ‘What’s going to happen now?’

  ‘At the moment, your parents are in custody for taking Ben. I hope your father will be released on bail this morning …’

  ‘So they’re getting out?’

  Being realistic wasn’t pleasant. ‘Only temporarily. There will be a trial, I’m afraid. As a police officer, the chances of your mother avoiding prison are minimal.’

  There were small sounds, which could have been sobs. Robyn turned away, gazing out of the window, watching a patrol car park and the officers stroll into McDonald’s.

  ‘How come nobody told me?’

  ‘You aren’t named on Ben’s birth certificate and, as far as I know, Melissa Chivers has never mentioned your name to anyone.’

  ‘Bitch.’ Josh slapped the door panel.

  Robyn took her chance. ‘What did she do to you?’ Josh’s new hatred might make him forget his discomfort at sitting next to her.

  Josh was squashing the sandwich wrapping into a tight ball. ‘I worked with her, at D&R, my last summer before uni. The stuff I got to do was pretty dull until Melissa started asking for me to join her client meetings so I got to see how all the property side works, which was really interesting. Then, on my last day, she asked me if I wanted to sleep with her.’

  Robyn stared at him. ‘Melissa Chivers propositioned you?’

  ‘Yeah, just came out with it, like in some film. So, I mean, who wouldn’t?’ Josh glanced at Robyn and blushed. ‘But I was seeing a girl, we were getting serious so I said no.’

  ‘Then what happened?’

  ‘I was glad I was off to uni. It would have been seriously awkward.’ Josh stretched for his rucksack and pulled out a phone. ‘When I came down to see Lacey the first weekend though, Melissa got dead huffy–’

  ‘Sorry, who’s Lacey?’

  ‘This girl I was seeing. Worked on reception at Derby and Rutherford. When I went to uni, we saw each other every weekend.’

  A siren wailed past on the motorway. ‘Go on.’

  ‘Once Melissa found out, she was seriously mean to Lacey. But then, a week before term ended for Christmas, I get a text from Lacey to say she’s dumping me.’

  The policemen strode out of MacDonald’s carrying bags, then drove away without touching their food. Josh twisted the festival bands looped around his wrist. ‘Anyway, I got back and went to the office to talk to Lacey, because she wasn’t answering her phone. I just like, wanted to find out why she’d ended it. I met Cathy at the office and she told me Lacey had walked out. Then Melissa turned up and told me Lacey had been two-timing me.’

  Josh took a gulp of air. ‘Oh, can I charge my phone? The battery died.’ He plugged a cable into the USB socket. ‘I was a bit pissed off, like. My first term at uni and I’d stayed faithful and come down to see her and she’d just gone. So when Melissa asked me again, I went back to her place, because I was like, angry and she was pretty sexy in those suits of hers.’

  His last words were drowned by a series of beeps from his phone as missed calls and messages racked up. Robyn kept her gaze on his face. ‘What happened?’

  Josh stared at the screen, then threw the phone down. ‘Everyone knows it’s my baby.’

  ‘What happened when you went to Melissa’s house, Josh?’

  ‘Well, you know, she got me inside and just said we should go to bed.’ Josh was staring into the footwell. ‘And so it started. I had to go home, because Mum and Dad were expecting me but
Melissa told me to come the next day and then every day for the holidays. I asked a couple of times if we could go out somewhere because all we did was stay in bed.’ He was blushing again. ‘She was different from the office, really filthy. And she told me she was on the pill too.’

  Robyn sipped at the last of the tepid tea. ‘What happened when you went back to uni?’

  Josh laughed. ‘She blanked me. Didn’t answer her phone or reply to email. I tried calling the office, even though she said not to and she wouldn’t take my calls. Then, well, I discovered what I’d been missing at uni by coming back every weekend.’

  ‘And did you ever hear from Lacey again?’

  Josh leant back against the rest. ‘No. Is there any more food?’

  Robyn made a show of checking, even though she knew the answer. ‘Sorry, all gone.’

  Josh stretched, then pushed open the door. ‘I’m going to get something else and I need the loo.’ He swung himself out of the car and pushed the door to, before stopping. ‘Hey – you want anything?’

  Robyn smiled at how the gesture reminded her of Janice. ‘No, thanks.’

  Josh jogged across the car park, muscles flexing on his tanned calves.

  Robyn retrieved her handbag from the back seat. Its squat blackness felt too formal against the blue jeans – maybe she needed a weekend handbag. The prospect of having to transfer stuff between bags wasn’t enticing, given how long she’d taken to organise this one. She tucked the spare napkins into a pocket, dislodging the picture of Ben. Now she’d seen both of them, the resemblance was striking: Ben’s straight nose came from Josh and there was something similar in the shape of the ears.

  The door was wrenched open and Josh threw himself back into the seat. ‘Dad just rang. He’s been let out on bail. Can we get home now?’ He stretched out his hand for the photo, pulling his knees up to his chin, staring at the boy’s face. ‘I saw it on my phone but didn’t think he looked like me. Now …’

  Robyn steered the car out onto the slip road. On the other side, the traffic was stacked back, stationary. Josh was silent, still holding the photo, his phone buzzing every few seconds. They pulled off the M2, passing an oast-house, then took the Markham road, fields visible between the hedges.