‘It’s not very cool, Charlotte,’ Dave said from where he was sitting on the other side of the lounge. ‘Mr Tucker here is really worried about her.’
‘Sorry, not cool as in cool that she’s missing, Mr Tucker,’ Charlotte replied, looking at Jimmy with wide pale-blue eyes. ‘Cool as in I might be able to help find her.’
‘It’s Jimmy.’
‘Sure, Mr Jimmy. Sorry, I didn’t mean it was cool.’
‘Just Jimmy.’
‘Yep, sorry. Got it.’ Charlotte jiggled her leg up and down and she stared at Jimmy. If he didn’t know better, Jimmy would have sworn she was on something but as Dave had explained while they were waiting for her, Charlotte was highly strung at the best of times. ‘So, what’s the plan?’ she asked, her voice even higher.
Gareth, who had been standing in the corner of the room listening to them, unfolded his arms and walked over to where they were sitting. He pointed at Milly’s phone, which was on a table in the middle of the lounge. Next to it was a pad and a felt-tip pen.
‘At some point, Charlotte, that phone will ring. When it does, you’re going to answer it on speakerphone. We’re not here at that point.’ He gestured to himself, Jimmy and Dave. ‘It’s just you and the caller.’
‘Right, got it. Then what?’
‘It depends on what whoever’s on the phone wants. That’s the bit we’re trying to find out.’
‘Okay. What’s the colouring pen for?’ Charlotte asked. Jimmy saw him sigh before replying.
‘So we can give you some tips on what to say.’
‘Cool,’ she said. ‘This is so cool. Sorry Jimmy, when I say cool, I mean–’
‘Charlotte, honestly,’ Jimmy cut her off, ‘it’s fine.’
The four of them sat in silence for a moment. Jimmy wasn’t convinced that Charlotte could hold her own. She seemed so highly strung that he doubted she’d be able to carry it off, even if she was a drama student. Dave had said that when he saw her “in the zone” she was a different person altogether. When Dave had first seen her, he’d told Jimmy earlier, she was playing a holocaust survivor in a college play that he’d been dragged along to by a friend. Dave had been attracted to Charlotte’s quiet confidence, her deep and melodic voice, and haunted air. When he’d arranged to meet her after the show, he’d had quite a shock.
‘When’s it going to ring, then?’ Charlotte squeaked, staring at the phone. ‘Been here ages already.’
‘We don’t know, Charlotte,’ Dave replied, moving to sit next to her on the sofa. ‘It might not.’
‘Blimey,’ she replied. ‘I’m bloody starving, I am.’
‘Shall I send out for pizza?’ Jimmy said. ‘I’ll pay, seeing as you lot are doing me a favour.’ When he saw all three heads nodding, he smiled and walked into the kitchen to grab a couple of menus from underneath the cutlery tray where he kept them. Jimmy handed out menus to all three of his guests, telling them to order whatever they wanted.
‘Can I get garlic bread, please?’ Charlotte asked, without even looking at her menu.
‘Sure,’ Jimmy replied, watching as Dave pulled Charlotte toward him and started whispering in her ear. ‘Gareth?’
‘Anything with meat on is fine by me,’ Gareth replied. Dave requested a vegetarian supreme a moment later, saying he would share it with Charlotte.
‘No garlic bread though, thanks,’ he added as Charlotte giggled next to him. ‘She’s changed her mind.’ So David had just told her about the hotel room then, Jimmy thought with a private smile.
An hour later, surrounded by empty pizza boxes and half-drunk cans of beer, the four of them were watching an episode of The Chase on the television. Jimmy was feeling sleepy, not helped by the painkillers he’d helped himself to when he’d stepped into the kitchen to order the pizzas. He’d just wanted enough to take the edge off the pain in his ribs, but maybe he’d not judged it quite right. Jimmy blinked, watching the idiot on the screen make an absolute fool of himself on prime time television.
‘How can he not know the capital of Mexico, for fuck’s sake?’ Dave muttered, his arms wrapped around Charlotte.
‘Muppet,’ Gareth said in agreement. ‘Even I know it’s Tokyo.’ Jimmy started giggling at Gareth’s joke when he realised Milly’s phone was buzzing on the table.
‘Fuck, fuck,’ Charlotte shouted, springing into life. ‘It’s ringing. It’s fucking ringing.’
‘Jesus Christ,’ Dave said, suddenly not cuddling Charlotte any more. Jimmy looked at her, perched on the edge of the sofa and staring at the numbers on the screen. On the other side of the room, Gareth stabbed at the remote control and the television fell silent.
‘You ready?’ Gareth asked Charlotte. She nodded in reply, and Gareth held a finger to his lips as he looked at Dave and Jimmy. Jimmy realised he was holding his breath as Charlotte extended a red fingernail toward the phone.
‘Hello?’ she said a few seconds after the ringing stopped. There was a pause, and Jimmy thought whoever it was had hung up when a tinny male voice came out of the phone.
‘Hello.’
Jimmy leaned forward, looked at the screen, and reached across Charlotte’s shoulder to tap the speaker icon. ‘Is that Nikki?’ the man’s voice said, much louder now. Charlotte stared at Jimmy, who just nodded his head.
‘Yes,’ Charlotte replied. Her voice was entirely different now. Much lower, almost sultry, and all trace of her broad Norfolk accent gone. ‘Who’s this?’ she asked, shyly.
‘Er, I’m, um, Gregory.’
‘Hey, Gregory,’ Charlotte said. Jimmy looked at her—she had her eyes closed and a slight frown on her face. ‘You sound nice. How can I help you?’
‘Are you available?’ the voice said. Charlotte’s eyes snapped open, and she looked at Gareth for help. He grabbed the felt-tip pen and scribbled on the pad, turning it round so she could see what was written on it. Jimmy glanced at the pad to see he had written the words Available for what? on the paper.
‘Available for what?’ Charlotte asked, her eyes closed again.
‘Um, a meeting?’
‘When?’
‘When are you available?’ Gareth scribbled again on the pad, and Charlotte opened her eyes to see what he had written.
‘Thursday evening.’
‘Okay, what time?’ Charlotte didn’t wait for Gareth to write anything down this time. ‘Half seven okay?’
‘For four hours?’
‘Ah, yeah. Sure,’ Charlotte replied, looking down at her lap and avoiding Jimmy’s eyes.
‘Where?’
Jimmy reached across and grabbed the pad and felt-tip pen from Gareth. He scribbled on the paper and pushed it in front of Charlotte. She glanced down and read it before returning her attention to the phone in front of her.
‘Royal Hotel. I’ll be in the bar.’ She was reading from the piece of paper Jimmy had scribbled on. ‘Far left corner.’
‘Good,’ the man on the phone said. He was about to say something else when Jimmy prodded at the phone to disconnect the call. Jimmy leaned forward, feeling sick, and stared at the carpet between his feet while a deafening silence filled the room. It lasted for what seemed to Jimmy for ages until he heard Gareth speak.
‘Dave, don’t you have somewhere to be?’
Through the fog in his head, Jimmy heard a whispered conversation going on. Urgent tones from Gareth, whispered replies from Dave, and silence from Charlotte. Which made a change. Jimmy hiccoughed and pressed his eyes tight, wondering for a moment if he would be sick, when the moment passed. When he opened them again, Dave and Charlotte were in the hallway putting their coats on, and Gareth was sitting in the armchair on the other side of the lounge, staring at his feet.
‘Do you want a drink?’ Jimmy asked Gareth, not looking at him.
‘Have you got enough?’ Gareth replied.
‘Plenty,’ Jimmy replied as he got to his feet. ‘And if I run out of whisky, then I’ve got the world’s supply of painkillers.’ He managed a laugh as he walked to the kitchen. Behind him
, he heard the front door being closed softly as Dave and Charlotte left.
‘I think I’ll stick to whisky,’ Gareth called through from the lounge. ‘If it’s all the same.’ Jimmy laughed, a dry laugh without a hint of humour.
Jimmy walked back into the lounge a few moments later. He placed two tumblers on the table, both of which were almost full to the brim with cheap whisky.
‘You’re not driving, are you?’ Jimmy asked.
‘Not any more,’ Gareth replied as he raised the glass in the air. ‘Cheers.’
Jimmy lifted his own glass and clicked it off Gareth’s.
‘I propose a toast,’ he said, looking Gareth in the eyes.
’To what?’
’To my daughter,’ Jimmy replied, holding his glass up and looking at the light on the ceiling through the amber liquid. ‘My daughter, the prostitute.’
Chapter 34
‘Mr Tucker?’ Jimmy groaned when he heard the voice on the end of the phone. He recognised the accent just from the way the woman said his name. ‘It’s Angela? From the hospital?’
‘Hi, Angela,’ Jimmy said, swinging his legs out of the bed and sitting on the edge. He rubbed his hand over his chin, feeling the bristles. ‘How are you?’ There was a light giggle on the other end.
‘It’s normally the other way round, Mr Tucker,’ Angela said. Of course it is, Jimmy thought. I’m the one with the aneurysm. ‘How are you?’ She emphasised the last word to make her point.
‘Not brilliant, to be honest,’ he replied.
‘Oh, sorry to hear that,’ Angela said. Jimmy closed his eyes, trying not to remember the photographs he’d seen of this young woman in Max’s portfolio, but it didn’t work. ‘You missed your appointment yesterday. Is everything okay?’
‘I had some bad news the other night,’ Jimmy replied. ‘Ended up spending all of yesterday in bed.’ He didn’t tell Angela that he’d completely forgotten about the appointment, or that he was almost out of painkillers. ‘I’m sorry I missed the appointment, though. I know how busy you all are, and me being stupid doesn’t help with that.’ He was also sorry that he knew the freckles on Angela’s nose were identical to the ones on her bare shoulders, and that she had a belly button piercing. Jimmy shook his head to get the image out of his mind when he realised she had said something else. ‘Sorry, I missed that last bit,’ he mumbled.
‘I was just saying that missing the appointment doesn’t matter. It was only for a medication review, and we can easily make another appointment.’
‘Okay,’ Jimmy replied. ‘Thanks.’
‘You really don’t sound too well, Mr Tucker. Are you sure everything’s okay?’
‘Honestly, I’m fine.’ He tried to inject a note of enthusiasm into his voice. ‘Tired, that’s all.’
‘Have you got enough painkillers left to see you through the weekend? The appointment won’t be until next week now.’
‘I’m a bit low, to be honest.’
‘Hang on a second,’ Angela said. Jimmy could hear her tapping on a keyboard. ‘I’ll need to speak to the consultant, but I can put in a repeat prescription for you to pick up from your pharmacist later today. Would that help?’
‘That would be fantastic, Angela. Thank you.’
‘Or I can pick it up and drop it round?’
‘No,’ Jimmy said before realising he’d almost spat the word out. He wasn’t supposed to know about the photographs, and it worried him that if he saw her he would say something about them. ‘No, honestly. Thank you for offering, but the walk will do me good.’
‘Are you sure?’
‘I’m sure,’ Jimmy replied. ‘But thank you. You’re really sweet.’
‘So are you, Mr Tucker. I wish all my patients were like you.’ Jimmy shut his eyes tightly, determined to see Angela in medical scrubs in his head, not topless and leaning back on a chair to emphasise her chest. ‘I’ll call you later when the prescription’s done.’
‘Thank you,’ Jimmy whispered as he hung up the phone.
Thirty minutes later, Jimmy was sitting in his kitchen with a strong coffee in front of him and the newspaper spread out on the kitchen table. He had showered and shaved before walking to the corner shop to collect the paper, determined to make the most of the day after wasting the previous one. Apart from a slight tremor in his fingertips, he felt better than he had for weeks. Perhaps the rest had done him good? He thought it was more about the fact that he had something to focus on. He’d even managed to do something that he’d been meaning to do for ages, which was make an appointment with Laura’s boss to sort out his will. The office address was scribbled on a yellow Post-It note stuck to the fridge, and he was seeing the lawyer that afternoon.
In between long bouts of painkiller assisted sleeping yesterday, Jimmy had thought long and hard about what he’d learned the evening before. Milly, his only daughter, was working as a prostitute. Selling her body for sex with random men like the one called Gregory who—hopefully—he would see later that evening.
To his surprise, the more Jimmy thought about it, the more he tried to convince himself it didn’t bother him. He had no moral issues with prostitution—what consenting adults got up to in the privacy of their own spaces was up to them as far as he was concerned—and that was exactly what Milly was. A consenting adult, old enough to make her own decisions about how she lived her life.
While Jimmy would have much preferred that she hadn’t decided to earn money that particular way, he had to respect her decision as her father. None of what he’d learned changed the fact that she was out there somewhere, and might need his help. The main problem with what she was doing, he had realised, was the parasites like Max who existed in the margins.
Jimmy scanned over an article about Norwich’s chances in the league match against Watford on Saturday afternoon. The reporter—earnestly optimistic as always—was predicting an easy win at Carrow Road, but Jimmy wasn’t convinced.
On the table in front of him, his phone buzzed with a text message. Jimmy picked up the phone.
Are we still on for tonight? the message from Dave read. Charlotte can’t wait! She really was quite a strange girl, Jimmy thought as he composed a reply.
Sure. I’ll book a room in a bit.
Cool, Dave’s reply came back a few seconds later. We’ll be there about 5.
Jimmy opened up the browser on his phone, but after realising that he could barely see the words on the small screen, grabbed his laptop from the lounge and set it next to the newspaper. A few moments later he had booked a room in the Royal Hotel for that evening. He paid a bit more this time, just to make sure he got a decent room even though he wouldn’t be using it, but it made sense for them to have a base to work from.
He spent the rest of the morning doing what Hannah would have called “farting about”. The vacuum cleaner got an outing, and he even considered spring cleaning the bathroom for a moment before deciding on a quick wipe round the surfaces with a damp cloth instead. Jimmy knew that he was just trying to keep himself busy so he wouldn’t have to think too much, but it didn’t work.
After a quick lunch, he was in Milly’s room putting together the things he needed for the evening when his phone rang.
‘Hello?’
‘Mr Tucker, it’s Angela.’
‘Hey, Angela. Everything okay?’
‘I just wanted to let you know that your prescription’s all done,’ she said, sounding flustered.
‘Brilliant, thank you. I’ll pick it up.’
‘Okay, good. Do you want to make your appointment now as well?’
‘Why don’t you just make it for me and let me know when it is?’ Jimmy replied. It wasn’t as if he had much in his calendar, anyway.
‘Sure, will do.’ After he had said goodbye and ended the call, Jimmy realised that she hadn’t answered his question.
‘I’m sorry Mr Dewar’s not here to speak to you,’ Laura said as she placed a cup of tea, complete with a deep saucer, on the table next to Jimmy. He was si
tting in a very plush armchair in her law office in the middle of Norwich. It wasn’t just the armchair that was plush, though—the whole room smelt of money. Laura’s boss must be doing something right, Jimmy thought as he thanked Laura for the tea. He looked at the saucer suspiciously. Given the choice, he would have preferred a mug any day of the week.
Before he’d made his way to Laura’s office, Jimmy had been to the Royal Hotel and checked in. This time round, the room was a lot more spacious and had a view of the castle that didn’t involve leaning out the window and craning his neck to the side. He’d hung up the suit carrier he’d brought with him and spent a few moments trying to work out if this was the room Milly had been in. He didn’t think it was, but couldn’t be sure. Realising that it didn’t really matter either way, he’d left and hurried through the rain to an ornate building near the cathedral.
He and Laura had spent the previous half an hour going through what he wanted, Laura listening carefully and making copious notes. Jimmy had originally thought it would be easy—just leave everything to Milly—but from Laura’s questions it didn’t seem to be that straightforward. She had been very apologetic when Jimmy had arrived for his appointment only to find that Mr Dewar had been called away to an urgent case, but Jimmy had been more than happy to talk to her instead.
‘I’ll get my notes typed up and give them to Mr Dewar,’ Laura said, perching on the armchair opposite Jimmy and crossing her slim legs. She was wearing a similar outfit to the one she’d had on when she’d visited him earlier in the week—a thin blouse and a well-fitted skirt. Jimmy could see the matching jacket hanging on an ornate hatstand behind her. ‘This won’t take him long at all. Very straightforward I think, although it’s not my area.’
‘At least that one’s got springs,’ Jimmy said with a smile, nodding at the armchair. Laura laughed, a sound that lifted Jimmy’s spirits more than she would ever realise.
‘Oh my God, that was funny,’ she said, smiling. ‘I thought I was going to end up inside your armchair with my legs in the air, having to be helped out of it.’ Jimmy grinned at the mental image this conjured up in his head. It was a lot better than most of the images that had been popping into his mind’s eye over the last few days. ‘The look on your face was a picture.’
Finding Milly Page 22
