Missing Me

by Sophie McKenzie

  The tiger roared. We all jumped. But we were safe. And then we hugged and laughed and cried again.

  The light from the 8-ball – still on the other side of the gate – went out and we were plunged into darkness.

  Esme squealed. But there was no real terror in her scream now.

  ‘We’re nearly out,’ she said. ‘The next door leads to the side passage opposite the kitchen.’

  She held my hand, Wolf on her other side. We felt our way to the wooden door. It was locked. Wolf battered it with his palms.

  ‘Hey!’ he yelled.

  ‘All of us together,’ Esme commanded. ‘Go!’

  The three of us hammered on the door, yelling at the tops of our voices. I don’t know how long we did that for – I’d completely lost track of time since we’d got into the first cellar.

  At last a voice sounded on the other side. ‘Wait a minute. Wait, let me get the key.’

  We stopped slamming our fists against the door and stood, waiting. A few moments later, a key fumbled in the lock. The door opened, revealing the bright light of the passage and Baxter’s man, Hobbs, in his waistcoat and yellow tie.

  ‘Esme?’ he said. ‘Wolf?’ His eyes glanced over me. ‘What . . .?’

  We stepped into the light, as Esme explained what had happened to us. All three of us were filthy. Wolf’s face was smeared with dust and his shirt was torn, while the bottom of Esme’s beautiful gold dress was in tatters. I looked down at my own clothes. Wolf’s jacket was covered in dirty smudges but my T-shirt underneath didn’t seem to have a mark on it. In fact, my jeans weren’t too bad, either – just a bit dusty. I wiped my face with my hands, wishing I had a mirror.

  ‘Let me fetch Mr Baxter,’ Hobbs said at last.

  ‘No, Daddy will just get cross,’ Esme said.

  I suddenly remembered Allan – and the bizarre circumstances under which I’d come here. ‘I need to get back to the marquee,’ I said.

  ‘I’ll show you the way,’ Wolf said.

  ‘I must insist on fetching Mr Baxter,’ Hobbs repeated. ‘Or taking you to him. He has to know what has just happened. Apart from anything else, I need his authorisation to go down to the basement and check on the animal.’

  Esme hesitated. ‘OK, then,’ she said. ‘We’ll all go.’

  She leaned down, grabbed the torn hem of her dress and ripped the jagged edge off. Her dress now skimmed her knees at the front, a little lower at the back. It still looked stunning.

  ‘Wow,’ I said, impressed.

  Esme gave a shrug, then led the way through the house. We entered a large kitchen – three times the size of mine – with two sets of double sinks and the biggest refrigerator I’d ever seen.

  As I followed Esme through a very formal dining room with a long central table, I wondered how Allan would react when he saw me. I shucked off Wolf’s jacket and handed it back to him. Wolf slipped it on in silence. His lips were pressed together and his forehead creased in a frown, as if he were worried about something.

  Esme led us along a corridor, past several closed doors and out into the garden through a side exit. The front garden marquee was straight ahead. As we headed towards it, I glanced along to the door with the toilet sign beside it.

  The door was there, along with my empty glass on the window ledge where I’d left it, but there was no sign. I peered again. Definitely no toilet sign. Had I imagined it?

  ‘After you,’ Wolf said. He was standing back, waiting for me to go inside the marquee.

  I followed Esme inside. She was already drawing horrified gasps and astonished looks from the adults she passed. They were all still standing around with drinks, chatting loudly, just as they had been when I’d left. I could only have actually been gone about twenty minutes, but it felt like weeks had passed.

  Esme headed for the thickest part of the crowd. People parted as she approached. I followed in her wake, with Wolf and Hobbs behind us. The party chatter stopped, as Esme walked up to a man in an expensively cut suit in the centre of a group. He was tall with thick grey hair and piercing eyes. This must be Declan Baxter, the party’s host.

  ‘Esme?’ he said. He didn’t smile.

  ‘Daddy, we got trapped with the tiger,’ Esme said, making her voice small and babyish.

  Her father curled his lip. For a second he looked embarrassed, then concern filled his face.

  ‘Darling, how awful,’ he said, reaching forward to pat her shoulder. ‘How on earth did it happen?’

  ‘We were in the Den,’ Esme went on, her lips trembling slightly, ‘and then the door stuck after she came in.’ She pointed at me.

  Everyone turned to look at me. My face felt like it was on fire. I looked down.

  ‘We went down to the cellars to try and find another way out,’ Esme said. She was still making her voice all little-girly. ‘We came through loads of doors and the tiger was behind one of them.’

  ‘Goodness,’ said one of the women standing in the crowd. A gasp ran round the others. There were loads of people watching us now.

  ‘As luck had it, Mr Baxter, I heard them,’ Hobbs said. ‘They were hammering on the door of the shed that was built where the stable used to be.’

  Declan Baxter nodded thoughtfully. The man beside him – shorter, with a mean look in his eye – shook his head.

  I looked around. There was no sign of Allan.

  ‘Go and check the door to the Den, Hobbs,’ Baxter ordered.

  His gaze flickered from his daughter to Wolf, then his eyes rested on me.

  ‘And you are?’ he demanded.

  I gulped. Mr Baxter exuded an aura of absolute power. I could totally see where Esme got her scary manner from.

  ‘This is M . . . Madison, sir,’ Wolf butted in. ‘She was great, actually, really h . . . helped when we were t . . . trapped.’

  ‘Yes, she practically saved my life,’ Esme said. ‘Unlike Wolf . . .’ she smiled, her voice returning to normal. ‘Wolf screamed like a girl.’

  What? I stared at her, shocked to my core. Wolf had been fantastic earlier. If anything, Esme was the one who had screamed. Esme was still smiling, as if the whole thing were a joke.

  ‘There’s a surprise,’ the mean-eyed man standing next to Baxter said sarcastically. ‘My son, rescued by a girl . . . two girls . . .’ He glared at Wolf. ‘What do you have to say to that? Is it true?’

  Wolf went bright red. ‘N . . . n . . . no, sir . . .’ he stammered. ‘W . . . w . . . we all h . . . h . . . helped.’

  I felt myself blushing in sympathy. Wolf’s stammer was ten times worse around his father. No wonder he’d looked worried about coming in here earlier.

  His dad sneered. He had the same high cheekbones as Wolf, but his mean eyes and hard, cold demeanour were a million miles from Wolf’s friendly manner. Wolf looked down at the floor.

  This was so unfair. It was hard to speak up with so many people watching, but I couldn’t let Wolf go undefended.

  ‘Wolf didn’t scream,’ I insisted. ‘He was very brave.’

  ‘Really?’ His father sniffed contemptuously, like he didn’t believe a word.

  ‘I checked the Den door,’ Hobbs said, reappearing silently at Declan Baxter’s elbow. ‘It’s working perfectly. Not locked at all.’

  That was odd.

  ‘The kids must have panicked,’ Wolf’s father said with another sneer.

  ‘Madison?’ I turned around. Allan was standing behind me, his mouth open in shock. ‘What on earth . . .?’

  I scuttled towards him, forgetting the others in my desire to explain what had happened. Allan’s eyes widened as I told him about the door to the Den mysteriously jamming, then grew more horrified as I explained how we’d come across the tiger.

  ‘Oh my God,’ he said. He pulled me into a hug. ‘Are you OK?’

  ‘I’m fine.’

  Allan glanced over at Declan Baxter. He was surrounded by people.

  ‘Do you still need to speak to Mr Baxter?’ I asked.

  Allan shook his
head. ‘He’s already ignored me twice,’ he said with a rueful smile. ‘Anyway, that’s not important right now. What matters is that you’re safe. Come on, you’re white as a sheet, let’s get you out of here. I’ve got my car, I’ll run you home.’

  He took my arm, ready to steer me away. I just had time to register how sweet he was being – especially compared to Esme and Wolf’s fathers – when Esme herself appeared beside me.

  ‘You’re not running off, are you?’ she said. ‘Stay and watch the circus show. I’m going to get changed, but I won’t be a minute.’

  I bit my lip. Part of me was tempted to stay, but now that the euphoria of escaping the tiger had faded, I actually felt pretty shaky. What I wanted more than anything was my own home and a hot bath.

  ‘Maybe another time?’ Allan said. I smiled at him gratefully.

  ‘Sure. Where d’you live? What’s your number?’ Esme produced a phone and we swapped details.

  It wasn’t until Allan and I had left the marquee that I realised I hadn’t seen Wolf to say goodbye. I looked over my shoulder as we headed through to the main house, but there was no sign of him.

  ‘What was Esme Baxter like?’ Allan asked.

  ‘Nice,’ I said, then remembered the rather cruel way she’d humiliated Wolf in front of his father. I was sure she hadn’t meant to be unkind, but it was certainly insensitive. ‘Complicated, though.’

  Allan nodded. ‘Like father, like daughter.’ He paused. ‘It’s great you might meet up again . . . seeing as you obviously hit it off.’

  We passed a clown with a tray of drinks. Allan took a glass of water and offered it to me. I drank thirstily. I had the strong sense there was something Allan wanted to say. ‘What is it?’ I asked.

  ‘Nothing.’ Allan led me outside and we crossed the crunchy gravel drive.

  ‘So how come Mr Baxter invited you to his party if he didn’t want to speak to you?’ I asked as we turned onto the pavement.

  Allan grimaced. ‘Oh, I’m way too far down the food chain for Baxter to take any notice of me. Still, I found something out . . . something that Baxter’s done.’

  I stared at him, deeply curious. ‘What?’ I asked.

  Allan lowered his voice. ‘This is highly confidential, Madison. You have to keep it a secret, OK?’

  ‘Sure,’ I said as we walked along. Excitement thrilled through me. ‘What has Mr Baxter done?’

  ‘Nothing I can prove yet,’ Allan said. ‘But . . . look, when I said I knew him through work . . . well, it’s true, but what I really meant was that I was investigating him . . . I didn’t say before because I didn’t want to put you in an awkward position at the party . . .’

  My throat tightened. ‘Investigating him for what?’ I said.

  Allan stopped beside a black car, parked on the side of the road. ‘Get in,’ he said. ‘I’ll tell you while I drive you home.’

  11

  Teatime Tension

  I hesitated. Allan’s car was large and shiny. I had no idea what make it was, but it looked as stylish as his suits, with its sleek wooden dashboard and elegantly curved bonnet. I stood on the pavement, Annie’s endless warnings about getting into cars with strangers threading through my head, but Allan had already proved himself a decent and caring person. Hadn’t he? Everything he’d said and done so far suggested he was simply interested in getting to know me a little.

  ‘I can call you a taxi if you’d rather, Madison,’ he said.

  I took a deep breath. ‘It’s fine, thanks.’ I got into the passenger seat as Allan pulled onto the road. As we drove off, a few spots of rain spattered the windscreen. I peered out of the window, surprised. I’d been so preoccupied I hadn’t even noticed how much the sky had clouded over. It was still early evening – not yet 7.30 pm.

  ‘Declan Baxter is a phenomenally successful businessman,’ Allan said, his eyes on the road. ‘But rumours about his criminal activities have been circulating for years.’

  ‘Have the police looked into him?’ I said.

  Allan shrugged. ‘I think there’ve been a couple of small-scale investigations, but nothing has ever come of them. I don’t know whether that’s because there was a cover-up or whether the police found no evidence of wrongdoing.’

  I thought of Esme. This was her father we were talking about.

  ‘Maybe he’s innocent?’ I suggested.

  Allan gave a snort. ‘Somehow I doubt that,’ he said. ‘There’s no smoke without fire.’

  ‘So . . . so what exactly are you investigating about him?’ I asked.

  Allan hesitated.

  ‘I won’t tell anyone,’ I said. I wanted to explain how much I wanted to be an investigative journalist myself, but I still felt too shy. Allan was so cool. How could I tell him I aspired to the same job that he obviously did so well?

  ‘OK.’ Allan nodded. ‘I know I can trust you . . . I’m trying to find out about some missing girls . . . that is, rumours of girls coming into the country and disappearing without a trace.’

  ‘That’s . . . isn’t that called trafficking?’ I said, trying to sound knowledgeable. Allan was actually sharing proper, grown-up information. Unlike Annie, who treated me like a child, he was talking to me as if I were an equal.

  ‘There’s no suggestion that the girls are being used illegally – no hint of prostitution or slave labour . . .’ Allan went on. ‘Just a bunch of rumours that Baxter pays them to enter the country . . . then “disappears” them.’

  ‘Whoa.’ I shivered. ‘What was the new information you got today?’

  ‘A name and a number,’ Allan said. ‘Miriam 21.’

  ‘What d’you think it means?’

  ‘No idea, I’m afraid.’ Allan sighed. ‘Maybe it’s the name and age of the latest girl.’

  We drove on for a while in silence. I checked my face for dirty smudges in the mirror above the passenger seat, and wiped away a couple of grubby smears. We were getting close to my house, when Allan cleared his throat.

  ‘So, do you think you’ll meet up with Baxter’s daughter, Esme, again?’

  ‘I guess.’ I thought about it. Esme had acted a bit spoilt, for sure, and she’d definitely taken her teasing of Wolf too far in front of his dad, but she’d also been funny and interesting. Of course Esme herself wasn’t the whole story. If I were honest, I wanted to see Wolf again too – he intrigued me as much as Esme – and the only way I could do that was through her.

  ‘What about me?’ Allan said. ‘Now we’ve met and you’ve had a chance to hang out for a bit, would you like to get together again?’ He paused. ‘I don’t want to do anything that will make you feel uncomfortable. I realise at this stage that I can’t be any kind of conventional father to you, but . . .’ He tailed off.

  ‘Yes,’ I said with a smile. It struck me that a lot of men would have behaved just like Lauren and Annie had predicted – running a mile in the face of a child they had never actively wanted – and that I was really lucky that Allan seemed genuinely to want to get to know me.

  ‘Great.’ Allan smiled back. ‘I’ll give you a ring, then.’

  A few minutes later, he dropped me at the end of my road. As I walked in the front door, Annie was flapping about in the hallway.

  ‘There you are, Madison,’ she said, her face filling with relief. ‘I was going to have to leave you a message. Did you have a nice time with Rosa?’

  It took me a second to remember my cover story, so much had happened since I set off earlier this afternoon. Thank goodness Wolf had lent me his jacket. Without it, my top would have got dirty and then Annie would have been full of questions about what I’d been doing.

  ‘Great, thanks,’ I said. ‘What was the message about?’

  ‘Oh.’ Annie’s hand fluttered to her chest. ‘Just that Lydia called with a last-minute invite for us to go for supper. I was supposed to be there fifteen minutes ago. I didn’t think you’d be back in time, but now you are, you can come too.’

  ‘Right.’ I could tell from the slightly
fake-smiley way Annie was speaking that she had some hidden agenda.

  ‘Lydia will be so pleased that you can come,’ Annie went on. ‘Lauren’s going to be there too.’

  So that was it. I’d refused to talk to Annie about having a sperm donor father, so now she was hoping that I’d speak to Lauren about it.

  ‘I need to take a shower first, though,’ I said, hoping I could get out of the visit. Honestly, it was so typical of Annie to try and force the issue like this. Thinking it through, I was certain Lauren wasn’t behind our meeting – she was letting things be . . . letting me come to her when I was ready . . . Why couldn’t Annie do that too?

  ‘Please, Madison.’ Annie wrung her hands together, her voice suddenly all wobbly. ‘It’ll only be a couple of hours and Lydia will think it rude if—’

  ‘Fine,’ I said, my irritation rising. Why couldn’t Annie ever say what she properly meant? ‘But I still don’t want to talk about anything.’

  I stomped off to my room and splashed some water on my face. Considering our climb over the iron gate, my jeans didn’t look too bad. I decided not to bother to change them. I’d have a bath when I got back.

  Annie and I walked to Lauren’s mum’s house in silence. Annie tried to get me talking about the weather of all things. Again, it was so obviously a fake topic that I felt really resentful. Rory opened the door to us. He was in the living room with a bunch of his friends, including the gorgeous Marcus, who gave me such a sexy smile as I passed the door that I nearly fainted.

  Lydia and Lauren were in the kitchen. Lauren’s skin had that same peachy glow as before and her belly seemed even bigger than it had earlier in the week. She struggled to her feet as we came in and Annie immediately started fussing, saying she thought Lauren looked pale and tired.

  ‘D’you think perhaps you’re doing too much, Lauren sweetie?’ she went on anxiously.

  What was she talking about? As far as I could see, Lauren looked healthier than I’d ever seen her.

  ‘I’m fine,’ Lauren said with a hint of irritation in her voice. ‘I’m going swimming every morning and—’

  ‘Are you sure that’s not too much?’ Annie said.