Father Unknown

by Fay Sampson

‘So have you.’

  ‘But I know what Tamara told me about him.’

  ‘You still have that card from Tamara?’ Prudence’s calm voice broke in.

  ‘Yes, why?’

  ‘Guess I thought you might be heading for that Stratford neighbourhood. Check out if she really is with her father, and if she’s OK.’

  A pause.

  ‘Could we?’ Millie’s suddenly serious gaze swung back to her mother.

  ‘I know your father will feel a lot easier if we find out for sure what’s happened to her,’ Suzie said. And so, she thought, will I.

  ‘When can we go? Tomorrow?’

  ‘It’s a school day.’

  ‘Mum, this is important.’

  ‘Of course, if you’ve got other plans for the weekend . . .’

  ‘Beast!’ Tears started into Millie’s eyes. She glared at her mother, then turned on her heel and stalked into the house.

  ‘Thank you,’ Suzie said, with a weak smile at Pru. ‘We need to get our priorities straight.’

  ‘I don’t know about you, but I can’t help getting their stories muddled up. Tamara and Johan. You haven’t ruled that young coach out, have you? Just because that bastardy bond showed Adam’s father was a married man? That was Johan’s story. We’re living in a different century.’

  ‘You’re right.’ Suzie rubbed her hands over her cheeks. ‘I’m confused. And anyway, Dan Curtis may be married, for all I know. I can’t help feeling there is a connection. And I’m scared about the way Johan’s story ended.’

  NINETEEN

  Suzie dialled the agent’s number. A girlish voice answered.

  ‘Hi. Bellacourt Literary Agency. How can I help you?’

  ‘Could I speak to . . .’ She checked the name in front of her. ‘Josephine Tees?’

  A pause. ‘I’m sorry. She’s in a meeting.’

  ‘Well, perhaps you could help me. She’s Reynard Woodman’s agent. You know, the children’s author? I need to get in touch with Mr Woodman. I wonder if you could tell me his address and telephone number.’

  ‘Oh, sure, I know the answer to that one. We never give out Reynard Woodman’s contact details to anyone. You can leave a message if you like. Josephine will pass it on.’

  ‘I really need to see him urgently. It’s a . . . confidential family matter. It’s about his daughter.’

  ‘Which one?’

  The question rocked Suzie. Tamara was an only child, wasn’t she? Then the truth sank in. It was years since the author had left Lisa and Tamara. There would be a new family now in his Warwickshire hideout. Always supposing Prudence had guessed right about the card.

  The receptionist’s voice gushed on. ‘. . . Persephone and Calliope. They’re such sweeties! He brought them into the office once. I wouldn’t be surprised if they grow up as cute as Bob Geldof’s kids. Sorry. What did you say your name was?’

  ‘Suzie Fewings. Mr Woodman may not remember me, but he knows my daughter Millie. She and Tamara have been best friends for years. Tamara’s his daughter by his first wife.’

  ‘Before my time, I’m afraid. Did you want to leave a message?’

  ‘It’s difficult to do over the phone.’ She hesitated, then plunged on. ‘We’re worried about Tamara. She’s missing. She left without telling anyone where she was going. We wondered if her father knew where she was.’

  ‘Gosh. It sounds like the plot for a children’s book.’

  ‘Will you get my message to him?’ Suzie gave her phone number. ‘But really, if I could talk to him that would be so much better.’

  ‘I’ll give your message to Josephine, and if she thinks it’s important, she’ll pass it on to Reynard Woodman.’

  ‘It is important. I’ve just been telling you. She’s been missing for days.’

  ‘What about her mother?’

  ‘Her mother doesn’t know where she is, either.’

  ‘Have you told the police?’

  ‘Not yet. We . . . we were hoping to keep this private.’

  ‘We–ell. I don’t want to sound rude, Mrs Fewings, but you’d be surprised the stories people tell to get hold of Reynard Woodman’s details. He’d have fans queuing up at his garden gate if we weren’t discreet about it. Like I said, I’ll tell Josephine Tees and leave it to her. I expect she’ll get back to you if there’s an answer.’

  The phone went dead. Suzie stared at the sheet of paper in front of her, still blank except for the literary agent’s name and phone number.

  A cottage, maybe somewhere near Stratford? A different partner, younger than Lisa. A new family of cute little girls. How welcome would Tamara have been? An older daughter bringing reminders of a fractured past. Now carrying within her problems for the future.

  ‘No luck,’ she said, when Nick returned home. ‘I couldn’t even get through to his agent, let alone the great author himself. And she hasn’t rung back.’

  ‘But he’ll get your message, won’t he? If he’s as great with kids as Millie says, he’s bound to be scared out of his wits for Tamara. I would be, if it were Millie.’

  Suzie’s hand flew to her mouth. ‘What if he rings Lisa? If Leonard Dawson finds out we’re still asking questions about Tamara, he’ll be livid. He’ll take it out on Lisa, won’t he? What have I done?’

  Nick put his arm around her. ‘I doubt if Reynard Woodman’s any more enchanted with Dawson than we are. He’ll only want to talk to Lisa.’

  ‘You know what Dawson’s like. He’ll get it out of her. And make her pay for it.’

  Tom’s voice surprised them from the depths of the sofa. ‘Why don’t you get your retaliation in first? Tell Lisa Dawson yourself. Get her to ring this Reynard bloke.’

  ‘Would she do it? And I’m not sure I have the nerve to go back to that house. Alan Taylor was right about him being forceful. You don’t understand the power he has over people until you’ve experienced it. It’s like being trapped in a thunderstorm. I don’t like to think what he’ll do if he catches me there again. Or what he’d do to Lisa.’

  ‘This is getting beyond a joke,’ Nick said. ‘If the man’s that abusive, it’s time someone told the police.’

  ‘I’m coming with you.’

  Tom’s determined assertion startled Suzie. Her usually sunny-tempered son was not smiling now. A dark wave of hair hung over his brow, shadowing his eyes.

  ‘I’m the only one of the family he doesn’t know. If he turns up at the wrong moment, Dad would be like a red rag to a bull, and he’s already bawled Millie out. I could try the old blue-eyed charm on him.’

  His grin did then break out, rocking her heart. So like Nick, and yet unlike. Tom knew only too well his ability to charm his way through life. He had left a swathe of lovelorn girls in his wake on his progress through school.

  ‘I don’t think Mr Dawson is susceptible to that sort of flattery.’

  ‘Possibly not. But I’m probably bigger than he is.’

  ‘Maybe a fraction taller, but he’s at least twice your weight.’

  ‘Bet I’m quicker, though. He’d think twice about roughing you up with me there.’

  ‘I’m not expecting grievous bodily harm. Just a very angry man. And the whole point is to avoid him. I have to get to Lisa when he’s not there.’

  ‘So I’ll case the joint and let you know when it’s OK to go in. I’m the only one he hasn’t issued with an exclusion order yet.’

  Suzie had to admit that she did feel better, setting out in the protective shadow of her tall son. They rounded the corner into Maple Lane. Tom signalled her to stay back.

  She watched him saunter along the avenue, casually flicking at the sprays of flowering shrubs that overhung garden walls. He came to the Dawson’s house, and his steps slowed further. His head turned sideways, studying the double-fronted, mock-Tudor building. A few steps further on he turned and came back to her.

  ‘Only one car in the garage. A green Nissan Micra. What did you say he drove?’

  ‘Something big and silver. A Mercedes? T
he one with a lion on the front.’

  ‘Women! That’s a Peugeot. Anyway, it’s not there. Are you up for it?’

  ‘I think so. It’s silly to be so afraid of someone. After all, what can he do to me?’

  ‘Quite a lot, by the sound of it. Beat his wife up. Terrify his daughter so that she runs away. Even supposing he hasn’t done something worse to her. Watch yourself. I’ll hang around and whistle if I see him coming.’

  ‘What am I supposed to do then? Walk straight out into his arms?’

  ‘Take cover. Then, when he comes in the front door, you slip out by the side gate and leg it.’ He grinned at her, a mixture of concern and excitement. ‘Go, girl.’

  She hurried up the drive, feeling like a trespasser. The bell trilled through the house. She felt a foolish hope that no one would be in, even though she had seen Lisa’s car in the garage.

  A flicker of movement behind the glass panels. Lisa opened the door. Suzie saw the startled look pass over her face. Surprise, a spasm of hope, then consternation. Lisa’s dark eyes flew past Suzie, guiltily checking that her husband wasn’t in sight.

  ‘What do you want?’

  ‘Can I come in? It’s about Tamara.’

  It was painful to see how afraid Lisa was as she ushered Suzie quickly into the dim hall. She stood there, like a bird trapped in the house, unable to decide which way to flee for safety.

  ‘Why don’t we go into the garden?’ Suzie suggested, taking charge of the situation. ‘If Leonard comes home, I’ll slip out round the side.’

  ‘He shouldn’t be back before eight. But you never know. When he caught you and Millie . . .’ Her arm strayed around her chest in a protective gesture, as if she was nursing painful ribs.

  Suzie longed to tell her she needed help, that she shouldn’t put up with this nightmare situation. But Tamara’s safety was uppermost in her mind. ‘Look, I won’t stay long. We think we may know where Tamara is . . .’

  Lisa’s hand flew to her mouth. ‘Don’t tell me. Please!’

  The panicked reaction shocked Suzie.

  ‘He’ll get it out of me,’ Lisa went on. ‘He’s sure I know where she is and I’m not telling him. But I don’t.’

  ‘It’s all right.’ Suzie put a reassuring hand on the smaller woman’s arm. She steered her towards the back of the house. ‘Just tell me one thing. Have you rung your husband to ask if he knows anything about her? Sorry. I meant Tamara’s father. Kevin . . . Reynard Woodman.’

  Lisa shook her head dumbly. They had reached the spacious sitting room, where glass doors led out into a garden larger than the Fewings’. But whereas Nick had created a riot of colour and contrasting foliage in their own garden, with curves and unexpected vistas, someone had recently taken control here, uprooting flower beds and setting out annuals in regimented rows. Overhanging branches had been hacked back, shrubs disciplined into unnatural orderliness. Suzie felt a fresh pain as she surveyed it.

  Still looking round her nervously, Lisa found her voice. ‘I was afraid to ask him. Leonard has very strong opinions. When he found out Tamara was . . . expecting . . . he . . . was very upset.’

  I bet that’s an understatement, Suzie thought. ‘So he knows? We wondered if she was afraid to tell him.’

  ‘He didn’t want anyone else to know. He wanted her to have an abortion. When she said no, there was a terrible row. The next day, Tamara didn’t come home.’

  ‘And what have you done to try and find her?’

  ‘Nothing.’ The word came out in a whisper.

  ‘Nothing?’

  Your fourteen-year-old daughter’s pregnant and she’s run away, and you do nothing to find her?

  ‘He wouldn’t let me. He said she’d learn her lesson. She’d come back when she’d repented.’

  ‘And you accepted that?’

  ‘Leonard’s had a lot more experience at dealing with teenagers than I have. I know some people think he’s hard, but you have to be nowadays, don’t you? There are some tough kids at Briars Hill. He couldn’t make a success of that school if he was soft. He doesn’t want to make Tamara’s affair public. He thinks that if he sticks to his principles, she’ll be sorry and come back of her own accord.’

  ‘Do you?’

  Lisa gazed back at her unhappily and said nothing.

  ‘Look, it’s not my business what happens between you and your husband. But I am concerned about Tamara. So is Millie. We all are. You may feel you can’t disobey him, but there’s nothing to stop us looking for her. Could you at least tell me how to get hold of Tamara’s father? Just in case he knows anything about her. I couldn’t get any joy out of his agent.’

  Lisa turned away, back into the sitting room. She opened a drawer in a side table and took out her address book. Reluctantly, she opened it and handed it to Suzie.

  ‘I don’t think it will be any good. He used to adore Tamara when she was small. But lately I get the impression from her that he doesn’t really care for teenagers. And of course, he’s got her children.’ There was a twist of bitterness in her voice.

  Millie had said that Tamara hadn’t been enjoying her visits to her father recently. It began to make sense now. The wicked stepmother? Perhaps they had been wrong about the Stratford notelet, after all.

  She copied the entry in the address book. It was for a village in Warwickshire, as they’d guessed. She noted the telephone number.

  She looked up to find Lisa’s attention concentrated on the door. Suzie tensed, listening for the all-too-quiet hum of a car turning into the drive or Tom’s urgent whistle. Even the silence seemed ominous.

  ‘Thank you,’ she said, turning a nervous smile on Lisa. ‘I won’t stay. Do you want me to tell you if we find her?’

  Lisa gazed at her with longing. Then her face began to crumple, as though she would burst into tears. She mastered it. But she shook her head hopelessly.

  What must it be like, Suzie wondered, to be so afraid of your husband that you daren’t ask where your daughter is?

  The walk through the wide hall and out of the front door into the sunshine was nerve-wracking.

  The drive was empty. Tom was leaning against a wall on the opposite pavement. He straightened up when he saw her.

  She had reached the gate, and he was coming across the road to meet her, when a large silver car swung into the road.

  Suzie’s gasp was almost a scream. In two strides, Tom was beside her. He seized her arm and began to propel her away from the house.

  The car shot down the road towards them. For a horrified moment, Suzie wondered if it would mount the pavement and crush them against the wall.

  It swept on past. They watched it turn into a drive at the far end of the avenue.

  ‘Whew!’ Tom mopped his brow in exaggerated relief. ‘Amazing what a guilty conscience does for you. But did you get anything?’

  Suzie showed him the precious paper with her notes.

  ‘Well, guess that was worth a couple of heart attacks. Good stuff, Mum.’

  ‘But she doesn’t think Tamara will be there. She didn’t get on with her stepmother.’

  TWENTY

  ‘Which of us is going to phone him?’ Suzie looked round the assembled family, hoping that it wouldn’t be her, but fearing that it would. Only Prudence was an interested but detached observer. ‘And if his agent’s set up the barricades around him, to protect him from his adoring fans, how’s he going to react if one of us asks out of the blue for Reynard Woodman?’

  ‘Now you’ve gotten me confused,’ Prudence said. ‘Her name is Tamara Gamble, right? And her mother married again, so she’s Lisa Dawson? So how come this guy is Reynard Woodman? Why doesn’t Tamara have his name?’

  The Fewings looked at her, momentarily puzzled. Then Suzie slapped her hand down on her knee. ‘Of course! We’ve been talking about his pen name. He’s not going to be using that if he wants to keep a low profile in his country hideout. I bet he’ll be known to the locals as Kevin Gamble, like he used to be when we first knew him.�
�

  ‘No doubt a perfectly ordinary member of the local community,’ Nick agreed. ‘If a little secretive about his source of income.’

  ‘I should have thought of that,’ said Suzie. ‘You gave me the clue yourself, Pru. Clayson, Clarkson. We didn’t find Johan in the records at first, because we were looking for the wrong name. It’s not Reynard Woodman but Kevin Gamble we need to ask for, so we don’t sound like children’s fantasy nuts.’

  ‘I think Millie should ring,’ Tom said. ‘It would be a perfectly natural thing for her to do. She’d have done it days ago, if she’d had the number.’

  ‘Me?’ Millie turned pink as they all looked at her. She looked suddenly younger than her fourteen years.

  ‘Why not?’ Suzie asked. ‘If one of us adults started asking questions, it would look a lot more suspicious.’

  Nervously, Millie got out her mobile. Suzie passed her the telephone number.

  ‘Hang on,’ Nick said. ‘Put that away.’ He brought in the extension phone from the house line and switched on the loudspeaker. ‘Now we can all hear.’

  ‘What do I say?’

  ‘Just ask if you can speak to Tamara,’ Suzie suggested.

  The four of them waited while she dialled and the ringing tone began.

  It was interrupted by a girlish voice. ‘Hello. Wood Cottage.’

  ‘Not much of a disguise, if you’ve read his books,’ Tom snorted.

  ‘Can I speak to Tamara?’

  ‘Who?’

  ‘Tamara. Tamara Gamble.’

  There was a surprised silence at the other end. Then a guarded: ‘Who is this speaking?’

  ‘Millie Fewings. Her friend.’

  ‘And why would you assume Tamara Gamble is here?’

  Millie looked helplessly at her parents. She improvised. ‘That’s her father’s house, isn’t it? Reynard . . . sorry, Kevin Gamble. Is she there?’

  ‘If you’re her friend, you ought to know Tamara doesn’t live here.’

  ‘I know where she lives. But she’s not there now. I thought she might be with you. Are you Mrs Gamble?’

  ‘Petronella Gibson. Not that it’s any of your business.’