by Linda Green
‘I’m not fussing. I’m trying to support you. To support our family. Please don’t push me away, Lis. I have to be able to do something.’ He walks out of the kitchen. I screw up my face. I am making such a pig’s ear of this. It’s like I’m the wrong kind of wife as well as the wrong kind of mother.
Otis comes downstairs a few minutes later in his uniform. His trousers are too short; I probably should have bought some new ones in the holidays. Not that anyone is going to complain about them. Alex comes back into the kitchen and ruffles Otis’s hair, as if he needs it to be any messier than it already is.
‘Hey, here’s the man. Do you think Year Five is ready for you?’ he asks. Otis looks at him blankly. You can almost see the hurt dripping off Alex’s face. The fun-dad routine isn’t working any more and he knows it.
‘All set then?’ I ask Otis.
He nods.
‘Right, let’s go.’
I open the front door and we step out just as Charlie bounds out of the house next door. He looks older in his uniform. Smart too. He looks like Ella would have looked. In my head I see her running up to him and holding his hand, telling him she is going to look after him because she is nearly a year older than him. All those things which she would have done.
‘Where’s Ella?’ he asks, looking behind us.
I glance across at his father Dean, who visibly winces. I don’t know what he has told Charlie so I’m not sure how to answer.
‘She’s not coming today.’
‘Is she poorly?’ he asks.
‘Yes. Yes, she is.’ Otis looks up at me enquiringly. I give a little shake of my head.
‘Did she like my birthday cake?’
‘It’s in the fridge,’ I say. ‘I’m saving it for her.’
‘Did she get a bit with a chocolate button on?’
‘I’m not sure, Charlie. I haven’t actually unwrapped it.’
‘Only if she didn’t I’ve still got some left in the packet and she can have one of mine.’
‘Thanks, Charlie,’ I say. I see Dean blinking hard as his grip tightens on Charlie’s hand. I know what he’s thinking: Thank God it wasn’t my kid. That’s what everyone will be thinking today. That and other stuff I’d probably rather not know about.
I usher Otis in front of me and we walk off briskly towards school as I’m not sure I can cope with any more of Charlie’s questions right now.
The nearer we get to the school the more people I see. They all do the same thing: look at me then look away quickly. Some of them manage a little sort of smile before they do so; most of them don’t.
I want to hold Otis’s hand but I know he is beyond that now. I put my hand on his shoulder as we approach the school gates.
‘You’ll be fine,’ I say. ‘And if you want to come home at any point . . .’
He nods and goes off to join his line. He has a new teacher. Miss Farrell has only just joined the school and I should probably say something, at least hello, but I don’t think I can.
Mrs Dewhurst, his teacher from last year, comes up to me. ‘We’ll keep a special eye on him,’ she says, taking my hand. ‘If there’s anything we can do . . .’
I nod and turn to go but as I do so I see the line-up of reception children being taken off towards their classroom, Charlie skipping along at the back of the line, and a cluster of mothers dabbing their eyes with tissues. I want to yell at them to stop blubbing because they have nothing in the world to cry about. Their child is growing up and starting school, it’s what every parent wants. And I would give anything to see Ella disappearing into that classroom at the moment.
I turn and walk away, my breath shallow, struggling to hold myself together. I overhear one conversation as I leave. A whispered ‘That’s her, that’s the missing girl’s mum’ followed by ‘They’ve questioned the girl’s uncle – it’s in the paper this morning. He’s done time apparently. Bet it turns out to be him.’
I spin round. ‘For your information they were taking a routine statement. So why don’t you mind your own business, eh, seeing as you know fuck all about any of us.’
I don’t even wait for a reaction. I start running. I run all the way home.
*
Alex and Claire look up from the kitchen table as I come in, the Sun’s front page with UNCLE OF MISSING ELLA QUESTIONED and a grainy photo of Tony going into the back door of the police station in front of them.
‘Sorry,’ says Claire. ‘I wanted to tell you in person but I didn’t get here in time.’
‘Fucking arseholes,’ I say, throwing my keys into the pot on the table. Alex stands up and comes over to me.
‘Did anyone say anything to you at school?’
‘Oh just the usual playground shit stirrers. Reckon it’s only a matter of time before Tony’s charged.’
Alex gives me a hug. ‘Do you want me to go down to the school and have a word?’
‘No point, it’s nowt to do with them. It’s how the bloody paper got that photo, that’s what I want to know. Did you see anyone there?’
Alex shakes his head. ‘Me and your dad went in first with Claire. Tony was a bit behind us.’
‘I’m so sorry,’ says Claire. ‘We tried to be careful, that’s why I used the back entrance, but it seems like they had a photographer in the building opposite. I didn’t see anyone at the time. I had no idea this would happen.’
‘How did the paper know who he was, though?’ I ask.
‘They ask around. And people talk, I’m afraid. Especially . . .’
Claire breaks off. ‘What?’ I ask. ‘What were you going to say?’
‘It could have been an ex-con. Someone who knew him when he was inside. A lot of them know the tabloids are after that sort of stuff.’
I sit down at the table with my head in my hands. ‘Great. So now everyone thinks it’s Tony and they’ll all stop looking for Ella.’
‘We’re not going to let that happen,’ says Claire. ‘We’ve issued a strongly worded statement to the media making it clear that this was routine questioning and no members of your family have been arrested or are due to be questioned any further.’
‘Bit late for that,’ I say. ‘How many million readers has the Sun got?’
‘I know,’ says Claire. ‘I’m really, really sorry.’ I look at her face properly for the first time and realise she looks awful, not nearly as awful as me, obviously, but she is clearly cut up about it.
‘So what happens now?’ I ask.
‘We get the focus back on finding Ella. Which is why we’d like to do another press conference with you this afternoon.’
‘Oh great,’ I say. ‘You may as well just line us up against the wall and let them shoot us.’
Alex looks at Claire. ‘She’s got a point. Are you sure that’s a good idea? Won’t they just want to muck-rake about this stuff?’
‘Not now we’ve made it clear to them that we do not suspect any family involvement.’
‘Yeah but mud sticks, doesn’t it?’ I say. ‘My brother’s an ex-con so in their heads we’re all lowlife scum now. They won’t want to know.’
‘Lisa, your little girl is missing. That’s what they’re interested in. They’ve run photos of her under headlines saying OUR ANGEL. We need to keep her photo on the front page of every newspaper for as long as possible. It’s our best chance of finding her.’
I sigh. ‘Will they ask us questions this time?’
‘Yes, but only if you’re up to it, mind. We won’t let them ask anything about Tony and we will call a halt to it if we think any of them have overstepped the mark.’
‘What do you think?’ I ask Alex.
‘I’m not sure. It might be asking too much of you right now.’
‘Nothing’s asking too much of me, is it? I’m her mother. It’s the least I can do.’
Claire looks down at the table.
‘I was only—’ Alex starts.
‘Yeah, I know, but please don’t. If it’s the best way of getting Ella back I’ll do it.’
&nb
sp; ‘But what if it just gives more fuel to the press and the nutters out there?’
‘I want to do it,’ I say. ‘I want to do everything that’s asked of us. That way I won’t beat myself up about what might have happened if we had done it.’
‘Done what?’ asks Chloe, walking into the kitchen bleary-eyed in her dressing gown. I didn’t think she’d wake up for ages yet. Not after that journey. She starts as she sees Claire sitting at the table and pulls the dressing gown more tightly around her. And then her gaze falls on the front page of the paper.
‘It’s complete rubbish,’ I say. ‘And if we’d have known it was going to happen we’d have told you.’ I see Chloe glance across at Claire again. ‘This is Claire – she says the police have put out a statement saying it’s a load of crap.’
‘Hi, Chloe,’ says Claire, offering her hand. Chloe shakes it as if she is worried about catching something.
‘You never told me they questioned Uncle Tony,’ Chloe says, turning back to me.
‘They interviewed him before you got back yesterday. And Alex and Grandad too. I didn’t tell you because it wasn’t a big deal; they were just taking statements, that’s all.’
‘Well the paper shouldn’t be allowed to print that, then,’ says Chloe.
‘We’ve made the situation very clear to the media this morning,’ Claire says. ‘And we’ve told them that anyone who acts in a way which hinders our enquiry from now on will be banned from press conferences.’
‘Will they be there today, though?’ I ask Claire.
‘Yes. Because unfortunately they’re still the biggest-selling newspaper and we need their help with this.’
‘What’s happening today?’ asks Chloe.
‘Claire has asked us if we’d be prepared to do another press conference. One where they ask us questions.’
‘What sort of questions?’
I look at Claire.
‘Mainly about Ella,’ she says. ‘What sort of girl she is, what she likes doing. Maybe about how you’re all coping.’
‘I’ll do it if you like,’ says Chloe.
‘No,’ I say quickly. ‘I don’t want you involved in any of this.’
‘Why not? She’s my sister.’
‘I know, but you don’t need this right now.’
‘Says who?’
‘Your mum’s got a point,’ says Alex. ‘It’s not a very nice thing to go through.’
‘I don’t care, I want to help find Ella.’
‘You could help Grandad and Uncle Tony with all the Facebook stuff,’ I say. ‘You’d probably be better at it than they are.’
Chloe gives me a look. ‘Stop treating me like a kid. I’m nineteen remember? I want to do this. Ella might see it on the telly. I want her to see us all together, like. So she knows we’re all looking for her. You have to let me help.’
I sigh. Alex shrugs. I know what he’s thinking. That she’s her mother’s daughter and therefore there’s no way on earth we’re going to get her to change her mind.
‘OK,’ I say. ‘You can be there with us but I’m not going to let them ask you questions.’
‘Fine. When is it?’
‘One o’clock this afternoon,’ says Claire.
‘Right. I’m gonna go and have a shower then.’
Claire looks at us both when Chloe has left the room.
‘Tough cookie,’ she says. ‘Wonder where she gets it from.’
‘It’s more a front, to be honest,’ I reply. ‘She’s got a pretty soft centre.’
‘Well, I’ll make sure they’re briefed not to ask her anything. Thanks, anyway. I know this isn’t easy for you.’
My phone rings. I look at the screen. It’s Dad. And I’m pretty sure I know what he’s calling about.
I answer straight away. I may as well have put it on speaker because the others get to hear every single expletive.
‘Have you seen the front page of the Sun this morning? What the fuck is going on? Your mum’s in a right state.’
‘Is Tony there?’
‘No. He went to work early this morning. He’s just rung to say his boss wants to see him and the other lads are giving him grief about it.’
‘Right. Just hang on and I’ll come straight round,’ I say. ‘I’ll explain everything.’
‘There’s a couple of photographers outside the house now. I’ve told them where to go and drawn the curtains so they don’t bother your mother, like.’
‘OK,’ I say. ‘I’m on my way.’ I put the phone down.
‘Are you sure that’s a good idea?’ asks Alex. ‘With the press outside, I mean.’
‘No,’ I say. ‘But I sure as hell don’t want Mum and Dad having to deal with them on their own.’
‘Do you want me to come?’ asks Alex.
‘No, I’ll be fine.’
I look at Alex’s face and realise I have done it again.
‘One of us should stay here with Chloe,’ I add quickly.
‘OK, if you’re sure,’ says Alex. ‘I’ll call Mum and Dad. They said they’d like to come round for a while before they head back this afternoon.’
‘They’re going already?’
‘Yeah. They texted while you were out. I think they feel like spare parts, to be honest.’
I feel a twinge of guilt, knowing I haven’t exactly been welcoming. I don’t know what they thought they could do to help, mind. Maybe they just thought they ought to show their faces. To be fair, it’s not as if there are any books on this subject, What to Do When a Child in Your Family Goes Missing. The truth is, nobody knows what to do; you simply muddle through the best you can.
‘Sure. Say goodbye from me and thank them for coming. And make sure Chloe says goodbye properly too.’
I turn back to see Claire taking her car keys out of her pocket.
‘What are you doing?’
‘I’ll come with you,’ Claire says.
‘There’s no need.’
‘Well, I’d like to. I feel responsible. And I can have a word with the press for you while I’m there.’
‘OK,’ I say with a shrug. ‘But I’ll drive.’
‘I just thought—’
‘No, thanks. I’m quite capable of driving a car.’
Claire and Alex exchange a look. Claire nods before putting her keys back into her pocket.
*
I glance at Claire as I drive off. ‘Sorry,’ I say. ‘It’s all getting on top of me, that’s all.’
‘It’s OK. I don’t blame you, to be honest. And for what it’s worth, I’ve had a lot worse.’
‘Why do you do this?’ I ask. ‘I mean there must be better jobs in the police force?’
‘What, like getting your head kicked in by some drunken oik on a Saturday night in Manchester?’
‘Did that happen to you?’
‘Not to me but one of my colleagues. I went into policing to help people, not watch them beating up one of my friends. And then I had a guy pull a knife on me and that was the final straw.’
‘So why didn’t you settle for a cushy desk job instead of having to deal with people like us?’
Claire smiles. ‘Because I want to help people. Try to, at any rate. The way I see it, if people have to go through awful things, the least we can do is be there to support them and treat them with the respect you’d expect if it ever happened to you.’
I nod, hoping Dad’s not going to be too hard on her.
‘Have you got kids?’ I ask.
‘No. Married to the job, I am. I’ve got two cats for company, mind, and if I’m after stimulating conversation I just watch Corrie on catch-up. Damn sight better than putting up with a husband, from what I hear.’
I manage a little smile. We drive on for a bit in silence.
‘You knew about our Tony’s previous, didn’t you?’
Claire nods. ‘Yep, not that it matters to me. A lot of people do pretty stupid things when they’re young.’
‘He was pissed,’ I say, ‘and the bloke he beat up had been
having a pop at his girlfriend.’
‘I hope she appreciated him doing time for her.’
‘She dumped him while he was inside actually and went off with one of his mates.’
‘Ouch.’
‘I know. So much for chivalry, eh?’
*
As soon as I turn into the road I see the photographers, three of them, with bulky bags on their shoulders and cameras around their necks, standing outside Mum and Dad’s house. There are a group of teenage kids hanging about on the other side of the road as well, no doubt enjoying the free entertainment.
I pull up outside. The photographers turn and start taking pictures through the windscreen. ‘Stay here a second and let me handle them,’ says Claire, jumping out.
She goes up to the nearest photographer and shows them her ID.
‘Claire Madill, West Yorkshire Police. I’d like to see your press card, please,’ I hear her say.
He rummages in about six different pockets before producing a card and holding it out for her to see.
‘Freelance are you?’ she says.
‘Yeah.’
‘Who you working for?’
‘Local agency.’
‘Right, well we will be contacting all the agencies, newspapers and websites to let them know that if any of their employees harass members of Ella Dale’s family they will not be admitted to the police press conference this afternoon.
‘So I suggest you all get yourselves down to Bradford now and we’ll look forward to seeing you at the press conference. Unless you want to come in and explain to the girl’s family why you’re adding to their suffering right now.’
They shuffle their feet uncomfortably before one turns and heads off towards his car. The other two follow a moment later.
I wait till they have driven off before getting out of the car.
‘Thanks,’ I say to Claire.
‘No problem, all part of the service.’
I look over at the teenage lads still hanging about opposite.
‘And I’d piss off too if I were you,’ I call out, ‘unless you want to get in trouble with the law for bunking off school.’
They mutter something under their breaths and slink off.
I catch Claire looking at me. ‘No one messes with our family,’ I say.
‘No,’ she replies. ‘So I see.’
