The Roommates

by Rachel Sargeant

  “After a year, she stopped going out, and seemed to pack in the drink and drugs too. Alleluia, normal service resumed. But no, she announces she’s pregnant. Even Mum couldn’t forgive that one, couldn’t bear to look at her. But luckily the woman next door took Amber under her wing. They went to antenatal classes together. The neighbour was due about a month or so before Amber and glad of the company because, well, there was no boyfriend on the scene.”

  “Amber never told us she had a baby.” Tegan talks into her teacup as if trying to process the shock by saying it aloud to herself.

  Jade turns to her. “That’s the point: she didn’t. She was never pregnant. How could she lie like that to our mother?”

  The doorbell rings. Phoenix sighs and so does Tegan; neither wants to answer it.

  Keys turn in the front door to the flat and a man calls out, “Hello. Maintenance here.” He knocks on a door in their hallway. “Another one for you, sonny.” He must have picked up Riku’s parcel from where Jade and Phoenix left it outside his door.

  “So what happened?” Tegan asks, on the edge of the bed, facing Jade and ignoring the activity they can hear in the corridor.

  “Cheryl, the neighbour, twigged in the end and caught her out.”

  “Hello, ladies, are you decent?” The maintenance man taps his keys on the door.

  Tegan rolls her eyes at the interruption but gets up to open the door.

  “Just these lot, is it?” He piles two of the packing boxes on top of each other. “Can you go ahead and open the doors, duck?” He nods at Tegan. She hesitates, clearly annoyed at being likened to pond life, then steps out ahead of him.

  Jade picks up another box.

  “Why would Amber make up something like that?” Phoenix asks when the man has gone.

  “God knows. She’s an attention seeker. Her stunt ruined our friendship with Cheryl. She stopped speaking to us and left a few months later. No idea where she went. We’ve got new neighbours now, a snooty pair.” She heads out with the box.

  Phoenix takes another and follows her. It must be full of shoes because it’s heavy. She’s used to load-lifting at home and keeps up with Jade on the stairs. “That’s a shame,” she says, not having a clue what snooty neighbours mean. Hers are like family.

  “I’m glad Cheryl left, though. It was humiliating for Mum having her next door. Amber had used Cheryl as a grieving post to mourn our dad and didn’t care how cruel she’d been.”

  Tegan and the maintenance man wait by the only car in the loading bay. Jade puts down her box and unlocks the boot. The man goes back inside for another.

  Jade says, “So now you know my sister. We thought her big tricks were behind her, but it looks like this vanishing act is her starting up again. I’m sorry she dragged you two into it. And Imogen.”

  After they’ve waved her off, Phoenix gets out her phone to send a text. The tension she’s had on and off since the second visit to the Freshers’ Fair tightens across her shoulders. “Something doesn’t feel right.”

  “You sound like Imo. Please don’t,” Tegan says. “One fruit cake’s enough in this flat.”

  “Amber’s neighbour vanished and now Amber.”

  “Hardly. I don’t blame the neighbour for not leaving a forwarding address with Amber’s lot. Why would you want to stay friends with someone who made a mug of you for months?” She eyes Phoenix’s phone and smirks. “Who are you texting – MI5?”

  “I’m asking Imo for Amber and Jade’s address. If I can get onto an old electoral register, I might be able to find the neighbour’s full name and then work out where she’s moved to.”

  Tegan gives a big sigh and holds up her hands. “Great, Imo’s paranoid enough without you winding her up.”

  Phoenix takes a breath, knowing that what she’s about to say will promote her to number one fruit cake in Tegan’s eyes. “What if something’s happened to them both?”

  Chapter 30

  Tegan

  The disabled spaces are taken even though none of the vehicles display blue badges. Tegan parks crossways, blocking two in. Lights are on in several rooms of the geography tower. Amber would go mental at the energy waste, but Tegan’s grateful as they indicate which windows she doesn’t need to scan. He’ll be lurking in a darkened room, like a woodlouse.

  After ten minutes she’s fed up of craning her neck. Where the hell is he? She’s sure he’s chosen the geography tower as his regular vantage point. The highest building on campus with 360-degree view of paths, roads and other buildings. The best place to keep a lookout, even though she’d rather he beggared off and left her alone.

  She gets out and sits on the bonnet, playing with her phone while she waits. Still nothing, so she leans back on one arm and lifts her feet off the ground. To add to the effect she plumps her hair with the other hand. A siren luring sailors onto the rocks. There’s movement at a third-floor window. Result. But when she looks up, two figures shoot out of sight and she realizes they were students. As she’s outside the geography department she assumes they are ogling the car, not her.

  When she honks the horn, the sound reverberates off the building and brings people to several windows. She rests against the car for a minute, brazening it out, but climbs in when the last few watchers linger.

  Bloody typical; now that she actually wants to speak to him, he’s nowhere. She asked him once why he kept on after she told him to get lost. Just following orders, he said. Wasn’t that the excuse the Nazis used at their war trials? She’ll have to ask Imo, the German student.

  Remembering what else he said – I’m here to make you safe – she gets out and, with a germ of an idea, opens the bonnet. Hand clutching her forehead, she steps back theatrically. Needing more props, she gets the car manual out of the glove compartment and hauls a never-opened tool box from the boot.

  No sooner has she begun flicking through the manual than she hears the hum of an engine approaching. Bingo. The Mercedes pulls up in front of her open bonnet, boxing in two more cars in the disabled spaces.

  “Trouble, ma’am?”

  Tegan manages not to laugh. Ma’am? That’s a new one, and she thought she was the one acting. Or maybe he’s taking the piss. God knows what goes on inside that hoodie; he never takes it off.

  “Good to see you.” She shouldn’t have said that; even a numpty like him knows she’s never pleased. Giving herself thinking time, she returns the tools to the boot.

  Marlon stands with his feet apart, hands clasped across his crotch. Dark hair in a topknot, two-day shadow, black trousers. The only flash of colour is a bling-watch on his wrist. Reward for faithful service? Her stomach hardens.

  She forces a smile behind her eyes. “I need your help.”

  He hesitates for a moment, no doubt considering the likely possibility that she’s on a wind-up – it wouldn’t be the first time. He nods, steps towards the open bonnet and rolls up a sleeve.

  “The engine’s fine; I’ve fixed it,” she says quickly, aware that people are at the geography windows watching. It’s not beyond possibility someone will call security. Even from that distance, he might not pass for a student. She’ll have to hurry up.

  As he rolls his sleeve back over his thick, tattooed forearm, she gets her bag and fetches out the piece of paper that Phoenix gave her. The girl had pored over digital electoral registers like a geek from a CSI episode until she found the full name of Amber’s old neighbour. But that wasn’t enough to put her sleuthing escapade to rest. Then she declared she needed ‘specialist’ help.

  “Cheryl Judith Burdett.” Tegan offers him the note. “I need a DVLA search to find her current address.”

  Not taking it, he looks at the paper as if he might need to detonate it. “Who is she?”

  “Nobody, probably.”

  “Why are you asking then?”

  “My clever friend found out her full name at her old address but we don’t know where she’s moved to. I thought you could ask one of your … associates.”

 
His body stance softens. “Sure, I know people. I’ll run it past the boss.”

  “Don’t bother my father with this.” Her anger slips out, before she can stop it. “He’s not back from holiday until tonight,” she adds in a calmer tone. “We need the information today. Can you help us?” Her voice slips into a simper.

  But he’s still suspicious. “Why don’t you get your clever friend to do it?”

  She smiles while her thoughts race to find a plausible answer. Phoenix knew how to gain access to the electoral register legally but wasn’t about to hack into vehicle licensing databases. Tegan pops the scrap of paper into his hoodie pocket and pats it. “We need a more specialist service, and fast. But if you’re not the man for the job, I’m sure my father could suggest someone else.”

  He straightens. “Leave it with me, ma’am.” He climbs back into the Mercedes, places the note on the dashboard and is on the phone by the time he gets the car in reverse.

  Ma’am. Again. It’s a wonder he didn’t salute.

  Chapter 31

  Tegan

  When Imo joins them on the kitchen chairs in her usual hood-up, head-down state, Tegan asks how her German conversation class went and makes a supreme effort to seem interested in the answer. Imo sighs out a tale of how fluent everyone else is and tells her that the PhD student taking the class hates her. When she stops speaking, she squints from Tegan to Phoenix. For a girl who’s slow on the uptake she’s hot on detecting atmosphere.

  “What’s going on?” she asks. “Were you bitching about me?” The sulky, martyred look stays on her face until they tell her about Jade Murphy’s visit to collect Amber’s things.

  Imo brightens. “So that’s why you texted me for Amber’s address. Where do we start looking? Chadcombe’s down south, isn’t it? Maybe she’s gone the other way, far north. Does Amber know anyone in Wales?”

  Tegan shakes her head, not bothering to challenge Imo’s quaint knowledge of geography. “Amber caused a rift with her neighbour when she pretended to be pregnant.”

  “Jade told me about Amber’s lies, but it was years ago,” Imo says. “What makes you think she’s gone off because of that?”

  “We don’t,” Tegan says, “not necessarily, but something from her past could have made her scarper.”

  “And we’re starting with her old neighbour, Cheryl,” Phoenix adds.

  Imo frowns. “If her next-door neighbour knows something, don’t you think her mother would have asked?”

  Tegan shrugs at Phoenix. Your call. They’d agreed not to tell Imo that neighbour Cheryl had done the same into-thin-air trick as Amber, but Imo proves brighter than they gave her credit for.

  “What’s happened to her?” Imo asks.

  “She left.” Phoenix clears her throat. “Without a forwarding address.”

  “Disappeared?” Imo stands up, her voice coming out in a gasp.

  “Give it a rest, Imogen.” Tegan rubs her throbbing temples. “Get this into perspective. Very few people vanish.”

  Imo’s eyes flare. “Over three hundred thousand a year. One percent are still not found after a year. That’s three thousand daughters, sons, mothers … sisters … never heard from again. It happens.” She leans closer to Tegan. “One minute you’re an ordinary family, the next your … father goes missing and you spend the rest of your life in hell.”

  In stunned silence, Tegan and Phoenix exchange a glance. What’s Imo’s story? Tegan realizes how little she knows about her.

  Sitting back in her chair, smaller now as if her fire’s gone out, Imo continues in a calmer voice. “Let’s find both these women, Amber and …?”

  “Cheryl,” Phoenix supplies.

  “And Cheryl. Stop them becoming another statistic. Agreed?” Imo peers at Tegan.

  “Agreed.” It sticks in Tegan’s throat – no way has Amber’s neighbour gone missing – but what else can she say?

  Imo bounces in her seat, on a roll now. “I’ll take the train to Chadcombe again and seek out some of Amber’s old friends. See what they know.”

  “Not yet.”

  “No.”

  Phoenix and Tegan speak at the same time. If Jade is to be believed, Amber’s mates are drug-addled gang members who live under a bridge. And Imo is no Ross Kemp. They can’t let her go there.

  Imo deflates.

  “You can come with us to visit the neighbour if we ever find her,” Phoenix says.

  Imo slips her hood back and flicks her hair, apparently happy with this concession. “How will you get her new address?” she asks.

  “You’ll be the first to know.” Tegan stands up. An evening in the car outside the geography tower awaits her because she stupidly didn’t agree a time with Marlon. She could be stuck there all bloody night.

  “Can we come with you?” Imo asks. She’s done it again. Tegan didn’t say where she’s going but Imo seems to have guessed it’s to do with Amber.

  Tegan’s phone rings before she can think of an excuse. It’s a number she doesn’t recognize.

  The voice is dark and shockingly familiar. “It’s me.”

  “How the actual hell?” Tegan’s whole body trembles and she drops the phone. They were supposed to meet by the car, but Marlon’s got so far into her life that he’s inside her mobile.

  Phoenix hands it back. There’s silence on the line. Tegan wonders if he’s peeved about her tone, but figures it’s because they both know the answer to her unfinished question. Her father, that’s how he got her number.

  Eventually he speaks again: “There’s no record of Cheryl Burdett having a car after she left the address you gave me, so there’s no new address at DVLA.”

  “That’s bullshit.”

  Phoenix and Imo look at her quizzically. She needs to calm it down, to keep him on the line. Her voice softens. “That can’t be right, can it?”

  “Eddie ran the search and he’s one of the best.”

  Tegan doesn’t know an Eddie but concedes that only the best stay on the payroll. Mess up and you’re dropped.

  She kills the call.

  Despondency grows on Imo’s face as Tegan explains that Cheryl’s Chadcombe address is a dead end.

  Phoenix frowns. “Who was that on the phone?”

  “The vehicle licensing people.”

  “The DVLA? Phoned you?” Phoenix tilts her head, her eyes narrowing on Tegan. “At this time of night?”

  “Does it really matter?” Tegan snaps. “All you need to know is there is no record of a car, no record of Cheryl. That’s as far as we can go.”

  “Does that mean Cheryl sold it when she left Chadcombe?” Imo rests her chin on her hands. “Has she gone abroad, like Amber?”

  Tegan’s eyes meet Phoenix’s. Imo catches their exchange and looks suspicious. Any minute now she’ll twig what they’re thinking: Amber’s passport is unlikely to have left Chadcombe. Amber isn’t abroad; Cheryl probably isn’t either. The last thing they need is for Imo to freak.

  Phoenix bails them out. “All we know is Cheryl hasn’t registered a car at a new address. Perhaps we can find another way of tracing her.” She paces the kitchen. “Where else are people registered?” She counts on her fingers. “Job agencies, optician, dentist, doctor.” She claps her hands. “That’s it. Cheryl’s a parent so she’s bound to have made use of hospitals and doctors. Her details would have been updated when she moved.” Her expression changes. “But we can’t access NHS data. That would be illegal.” She sits beside Imo and they look down, dejectedly. “This is getting us nowhere.”

  Tegan takes a breath. She’s known these girls less than two weeks and university’s not a team sport. Flat sharing is making her soft. She’ll rent a room in the town centre next year. So why has she already pressed redial on the last number received?

  “I might know a way,” she says.

  Both girls grin and raise their hands to high-five her, but she moves away, walks out of the room with the phone to her ear.

  Chapter 32

  Tegan

>   After half an hour of waiting for Marlon to call back, their enthusiasm wanes. Riku comes in twice, pours boiling water on two Pot Noodles and leaves without saying a word, despite both Imo and Phoenix trying to engage him in conversation. A nod and a grunt is as far as he goes, which is more than Tegan offers him. And he makes the kitchen stink of synthetic chicken.

  Tegan opts for the fragrant sanctuary of her bedroom, assuring Imo she’ll text her if she gets Cheryl’s address. By 9 p.m. she is halfway through a marketing summary when there’s a knock at the door. “Come in, Imogen,” she calls, mildly irritated.

  Her door opens, but Marlon stays outside, shifting his weight as he looks about the hallway.

  She balls her fists. Of course he can get into her flat. Close surveillance is what he’s paid for. That and something she’d rather not think about.

  “The boss says you have to do it yourself.” He fishes two folded sheets of printer paper out of his pocket. “Eddie emailed these instructions.”

  Riku’s door opens and he stands, arms folded, glaring at Marlon. The other man’s shoulders tense and his fingers flex. His eyes rest on Riku’s open-toed sandals and Star Wars socks, but Riku’s gaze is steady, dead ahead. Tegan feels a moment of admiration that, even dressed in half-mast tracky bottoms, he has the guts to face-off a thug. But she wishes he would do one, so she can make the thug give her the information she needs.

  At that moment Phoenix comes out of her room and gasps. The hallway grows too crowded for Marlon. He thrusts the printed pages at Tegan and ambles off without another word. Riku watches him until he’s out of the flat, then goes back into his room.

  “Great. Now what do I do with these?” Tegan brandishes the pages in Phoenix’s face.