Girl, Missing

by Sophie McKenzie

  ‘I’m staying with Lauren.’

  The other agents were hammering on Mum and Dad’s door.

  ‘Oh, for goodness’ sake, all right then. Inside. Now,’ MJ ordered. She pushed the three of us into the hotel room, then shut the door. I glanced at the clock by the bed: 6.30 am. Why were they waking Mum and Dad up this early?

  ‘Hey, Rory,’ MJ said. ‘Wanna watch TV next door?’

  Rory nodded eagerly. Mum was always dead strict about TV in the morning. MJ spoke quietly to one of the other agents, who took Rory out of the room. Then MJ walked over to where I was perched on the side of the bed.

  She held up a piece of paper. ‘Your DNA results,’ she said.

  I knew before she told me.

  ‘According to the test there’s a greater than 99.9% chance that you are the biological offspring of Annie and Sam Purditt.’

  In other words, no doubt at all.

  After all this time and effort to find out where I came from, I thought I would feel excited. Or afraid. Or at least relieved.

  But I felt nothing.

  Jam sat beside me on the bed. He took my hand from my lap and twisted his fingers through mine.

  There was a sharp rap at the door. One of the male FBI agents poked his head round and nodded at MJ. ‘Targets secure,’ he said.

  ‘What targets?’ I said.

  MJ sighed. ‘This is real hard for you Lauren, I know, but the fact that you are confirmed as Martha Lauren Purditt means that we now know you were abducted from here in Evanport that September, then adopted two-and-a-half months later, under an alias, from the Marchfield Adoption Agency in Marchfield, Vermont. What we don’t know is how many people were involved in the abduction and the cover-up and fraud that followed.’ She paused. ‘It’s possible that your adoptive parents knew what was going on.’

  ‘No.’ My mouth was dry. ‘They didn’t know. They thought Sonia Holtwood was my mother.’

  ‘I’m sorry, Lauren,’ MJ said. ‘But your adoptive parents have been taken in for questioning and until our investigations are complete they will be allowed no further contact with you.’

  No. I thought about the agents with the guns.

  MJ squatted down in front of me. ‘It’s just an investigation. There’s no evidence against them. But we need to see their paperwork around the adoption. Bank account data. That sort of thing.’

  My heart thumped. Bank data? When the FBI knew about the money Mum and Dad had illegally paid Sonia, they’d look as guilty as hell. I looked down. ‘How long’s the investigation going to take?’

  MJ shrugged. ‘We’re already checking out all the adoption agency files. It’s going to take a while to work out who exactly forged all the records and certificates to do with your birth and early years. And then we have to find out who at the agency was supposed to check things like the hospital where you were born – and whether they didn’t bother or, more likely, whether they were paid to falsify the information.’

  ‘But none of that has anything to do with Mum and Dad,’ I protested.

  Jam put his arm round my shoulders.

  MJ said nothing.

  ‘Will I have to stay here with Rory and Aunt Bea?’

  ‘I think your aunt is planning to take Rory back to England in the next couple of days,’ MJ said.

  I frowned. ‘But what about me?’ I glanced at Jam. ‘Can I stay here with … with Carla?’

  MJ shook her head. ‘We’ve agreed Ms Caldwell can take Jam back to England too. We’ve got his statement. And until we find Sonia Holtwood there’s nothing else he can do here.’

  I looked up at Jam, my heart pounding.

  ‘I’ll talk to Mum. See if I can get her to let me stay,’ he said. But there was no conviction in his voice.

  I turned back to MJ ‘So what’s going to happen to me?’

  ‘Well, there will be an ex-parte proceeding within twenty-four hours. That will result in temporary orders as to your custody. Then after a month, there’ll be a properly ordered hearing and permanent orders which will decide where you live permanently.’

  Permanently.

  The word slid round my head.

  ‘I don’t understand.’

  ‘I’m sorry, Lauren. It’s complicated.’ MJ paused. ‘Look. Although we know you’re the Purditt’s daughter, your adoption to the UK has to be legally proved to be invalid. In about a month’s time there’ll be a hearing to do just that. At the hearing the judge will overturn the illegal adoption and decide exactly where you should live and who should have custody over you. Permanently. In the meantime the normal procedure for any minor whose parentage is in dispute is for you to be placed with Social Services under a foster care arrangement. Then—’

  ‘Foster care?’ I breathed. ‘You mean staying with strangers?’

  MJ patted my knee. ‘They’d be good people, Lauren, properly vetted by the state and—’

  ‘But I don’t want to go and stay with people I don’t know.’

  ‘Listen. You’re not letting me finish. I said, normally the state would find foster carers for you. But this is not a normal situation. The Purditts know about the DNA result. My guess is that they’re going to get a family court judge to approve a “best interest placement”.’

  ‘What does that mean?’ I leaned against Jam. I couldn’t believe what was happening.

  ‘The Purditts are most likely going to get themselves approved as temporary foster parents.’ MJ smiled. ‘They’re wealthy people, with good standing in the community. If they can get Social Services to rush through the necessary criminal background and fingerprint checks and stuff, and persuade a judge you would be better off with them than anyone else, then you could stay with them until the permanent orders are issued and they can fight your adoptive parents for custody.’

  I stared at her, blankly.

  Go and live with the Purditts?

  ‘Look at it this way, Lauren,’ MJ sighed. ‘After eleven years, you’d be going home.’

  25

  String

  The Purditts did exactly what MJ had predicted. Which meant that, twenty-four hours later, I found out I was going to be living with them until the court hearing to resolve permanent custody took place at the end of November.

  MJ forced me to see a counsellor the next day. She said I should talk to somebody to help me adjust to the new situation I was in.

  To be honest, talking about everything just made me feel worse. The stupid counsellor was ancient. She kept nodding sympathetically at me and saying ‘Mmn, very difficult for you,’ until I wanted to scream at her.

  I know it’s difficult. What can I do about it?

  I was sure part of her was thinking: What’s your problem? You wanted to know who you were. Well here it is – you’re Martha Lauren Purditt. Get on with it.

  It was so hard to explain how I felt. I’d had to go through it with the judge already.

  ‘I’d rather live with the Purditts than foster parents who’ve got nothing to do with me,’ was what I’d said. But in my heart my feelings were all muddled. Of course I wanted to spend time with the Purditts, but I didn’t want to live with them. I didn’t know them. The thought of moving in with them was terrifying.

  And I missed Mum and Dad.

  I had only one hope – that the counsellor could persuade Carla and the Purditts to let Jam come with me. If he was there, maybe the whole thing would be bearable.

  I had lunch with a distracted Aunt Bea and an unusually subdued Rory, then waited anxiously for the counsellor to come back for our second session. As soon as she walked in I knew it was bad news.

  ‘We all hear what you’re saying, Lauren. And Mr and Mrs Purditt sympathise.’ The counsellor paused, her fleshy face creased in a patronising frown. ‘But everyone feels there will be enough for you to adjust to without your boyfriend complicating things.’

  ‘He’s not my boyfriend,’ I muttered. I couldn’t look her in the eye as I said it. I mean, it’s still true, I guess. I’m not so naïv
e that I think one kiss makes you someone’s girlfriend.

  ‘The only other option is that Jam’s mother may be able to stay on here a little longer. That way at least you’ll still be able to keep in touch.’

  I’d only seen Carla once since we’d been in the hotel. Jam said she spent most of her time exploring Evanport’s antique and craft stores. In the end I caught up with her browsing the jewellery in the hotel gift shop.

  ‘Darling.’ Carla smiled as I walked over. She ran a heavily-ringed hand over a display of wooden necklaces, then picked one up. It was painted red and gold and brown, the colour of autumn leaves. ‘Look at this. I bet it’s Native American.’

  I didn’t know what to say to that.

  ‘So.’ Carla raised her eyes. ‘I didn’t like to mention it in front of your parents, but our little session helped didn’t it?

  I blinked, not understanding.

  ‘You know,’ she said. ‘The hypnotherapy? I knew you’d felt something – even though you said you hadn’t. It’s what led you here, isn’t it?’ She leaned closer. ‘I wish you’d told me at the time. I could have talked to Mrs Worrybags for you. Avoided us getting into this mess.’

  I wondered what on earth she thought she could have said about me tracking down my birth parents that Mum would have listened to.

  Carla weighed the necklace in her hand. ‘I can almost feel the earth’s energy pulsing through the beads. I love America. It’s so big, so modern, and yet there’s still so much nature.’

  ‘Carla?’ I cleared my throat. ‘Wouldn’t you like to stay here longer?’

  ‘Of course, darling, I’d—’ Carla stopped in mid-sentence. She put the necklace down and sighed. ‘I’d love nothing better. You know that. But I’ve got the girls to get back to. And my clients. And Jam should really be at school. Apart from anything else, he’s not exactly top of his class. Still, that’s boys for you. Lazy. Uncommunicative. Only one thing on their minds.’

  I blushed. ‘Jam’s not like that.’

  Carla raised an eyebrow as she fingered a brooch in the shape of a star.

  ‘Mum always says boys are easier,’ I said.

  Carla snorted. ‘Darling, I adore Jam, but men are basically creatures from a different planet. I’m pretty sure I was some European king in a former life and you wouldn’t believe the …’

  As Carla droned on about her out-of-body experiences, I leaned my head against the window of the shop. I couldn’t imagine a future without Mum and Dad and Jam. I had thought knowing for sure that I was Martha Lauren Purditt would make sense of everything. I thought finding my real mother would fill up all the missing parts of me.

  But Martha Lauren was just the name of a missing girl.

  And Annie Purditt didn’t look like the beautiful woman in my memory.

  And I was more alone than ever.

  I was packed and ready to leave when MJ arrived to collect me at two-thirty the following afternoon.

  I’d said goodbye to Rory that morning with more of a pang than I would have thought possible. I wondered when I would see him again. Auntie Bea wanted to hurry home to start organising Mum and Dad’s lawyers and all the bank stuff.

  I tried not to think about Mum and Dad too much. Jam was dead practical of course. ‘The Feds can’t hold them without any evidence. It’s not like they’re terrorists. They’ll be released in a day or two. And once you’ve explained to the Purditts you don’t want to stay with them, they won’t force you. They can’t.’

  I thought about the money Mum and Dad had paid Sonia Holtwood. And the hunger on Annie Purditt’s face when she saw me. My heart sank. But I didn’t say any more. I didn’t want to spoil the last few hours we had together.

  Jam had snuck into my room as soon as Aunt Bea and Rory left. At first it was kind of awkward. I wasn’t used to being so self-conscious with him – worrying about how I looked or what he really thought about me. But Jam was brilliant. He said he’d really liked me for months. Wasn’t it weird that I hadn’t even noticed? Anyway, he was sweet and funny and … Well. All I can say is my packing took a long time.

  And then MJ knocked on the door.

  ‘Time to go.’ She looked at our faces. ‘You’ve got two minutes.’ She stepped outside and shut the door.

  This was it. Jam wasn’t flying home until the following evening. But everyone had made it clear I wouldn’t see him again before he went.

  I would be too busy bonding with my new family.

  I stared at him, my heart in my mouth.

  ‘Don’t go.’

  He smiled his big, cute grin at me.

  ‘I’ll come back.’

  No you won’t. No you won’t. Oh my God, you’ll forget me as soon as the first girl comes up to you – and that will be in about five minutes from now, because I’ve been with you enough times when girls made it obvious they liked you and I can’t bear it – you have to wait for me please, please, please.

  MJ knocked on the door again. ‘Come on, guys.’

  There was no more time. Jam just pushed something into my hand, squeezed my fingers over it, and left.

  MJ picked up my case. ‘Ready?’ she said.

  I nodded, stumbling blindly after her to the hotel elevator. I could feel whatever Jam had given me, small and smooth against my fingers.

  I waited until we were out of the lift and MJ was organising the cars out front. Then I opened my hand. There, in my palm, was a small oval of carved wood with a hole through the middle. Like the pieces I had seen in Glane’s cabin, only much smaller and simpler.

  He made this for me.

  I asked the reception desk for a length of string, threaded it through the wooden oval and tied it round my neck. Then I followed MJ out to the car.

  As she slammed the doors shut, it felt like she was locking me into a prison.

  26

  Ribbon

  The journey to the Purditts’ seemed to flash past in seconds. I sat in the back of the car, my hands clenched tightly together.

  When I saw the yellow ribbon round the tree in the Purditt’s front garden my heart, already in a mush in my shoes, dribbled out onto the ground. ‘There’s not going to be a party or anything is there?’ I said to MJ.

  She shot me a puzzled look. ‘That ribbon’s been there since you disappeared eleven years ago,’ she said. ‘Didn’t you notice it before?’

  I hadn’t. As we walked up the path I saw she was right. Close to, the ribbon was faded and stained. ‘It’s a tradition,’ MJ said, ‘for when people are a long way from home.’

  As she rang on the doorbell my heart thumped in my chest. The house seemed quiet, but I was dreading all the people I might have to meet.

  Annie Purditt opened the door almost before MJ had stopped pressing the buzzer. She stood back to let me in.

  My legs shook as I walked into the house. I got the same impression I had before. Lots of space and light and polished wooden furniture. This time I noticed a swimming pool through the back-door window.

  I stood awkwardly, wondering where everyone else was.

  The man who had spoken to me when I was here before was hanging back by one of the flowery sofas. But I could feel his eyes boring into me. I knew his name was Sam Purditt.

  My dad. And yet, so not my dad.

  I looked at the floor wishing I was anywhere else.

  MJ said goodbye. I was trying too hard not to cry to be able to say anything back. Annie Purditt showed MJ out, then came and held out her hand for my suitcase. I gave it up reluctantly. I still hadn’t spoken.

  ‘Come and sit down. We’re on our own. We thought it would be easier for you.’ She put my suitcase by the stairs and led me over to the sofas. I had this strong sense she was dying to hurl herself at me and give me this major hug and was restraining herself with difficulty.

  I sat in the corner of the sofa, as far away from her as possible.

  I looked down. The wooden oval on its bit of string dangled over my top. The sight of it brought such a lump to my thro
at that I had to dig my fingers into my palms to stop myself from howling.

  ‘Lauren?’ I looked up. Annie was sitting on the sofa opposite me. Sam stood behind her, reaching over her shoulder. They were holding hands.

  They couldn’t have been more different from Mum and Dad. Despite the lines on Annie’s face, she was obviously much, much younger than Mum and really groomed. Her hair was all carefully set and her make-up immaculate, right down to the glossy pink lipstick. Sam appeared even younger. He was tall and athletic-looking with dark brown hair that flopped over his forehead.

  ‘The counsellor told us you prefer to be called Lauren,’ Annie said.

  Course I do, it’s my name.

  ‘Which is fine,’ Sam added quickly.

  ‘Lauren was my mother’s name,’ Annie went on. ‘That’s why it’s your middle name. I’m so glad that you remembered it – at least, I assume you must have or else . . .’ She looked away. ‘My mother wasn’t much older than you when I was born. Eighteen. She was called Lauren after the famous actress, Lauren Bacall. It’s my middle name too.’

  ‘Annie.’ Sam patted his wife on the shoulder.

  ‘Yes, I’m sorry, I’m just . . .’ A tear trickled down her cheek.

  I looked down at my lap. This woman was my mother. I had to live with her. And she was a complete stranger.

  ‘This is so very hard for all of us, Lauren. But . . . but D— Sam and I want you to know that we love you so, so much.’

  You don’t know me.

  I suddenly missed Mum and Dad unbearably.

  Oh God, what if they get sent to prison and I never see them again?

  My gut twisted.

  ‘We never stopped waiting and searching and hoping and praying you would come home to us. Oh . . . oh what is it?’

  I couldn’t hold the tears back any longer. At the word ‘home’ my whole body just heaved in despair. I bent over, hiding my face, every part of me racked with silent sobs.

  And suddenly they were both there, in floods of tears themselves. Annie at my knees, her arms round me, going, ‘My baby, my baby.’ Sam’s hand stroking my hair.

  It was hideous.

  I wanted to scream and yell at them to go away. To let me go home. But what good would it do? Mum and Dad weren’t allowed to see me. I had no home any more.