by Lisa Stone
Abruptly, out of nowhere, the small sign for Fern Lane appeared. Colin sighed with relief. Turning left, he began bumping along the unmade single-track lane. Visibility had been bad on the road, but now it was even worse. With no road markings, the lane was indistinguishable from the fields and heathland either side. He could so easily end up in a ditch where he might be trapped in his car, undiscovered for days, even weeks. He shuddered at the thought. The two miles to the cottage seemed endless and nothing was familiar in this fog – he almost drove past it. Set back from the track, the stone cottage had blended into the fog and only the vaguest outline was visible, an eerie darker shade of mist. He pulled onto the hard standing at the front and cut the engine. Thank goodness.
The cottage was in darkness, as it should be. The battery-powered lamp didn’t show through the curtains at the front. He’d checked. Collecting the carrier bag containing the groceries and his briefcase from the passenger seat, Colin climbed out. It was only then he remembered that he was supposed to have bought Leila a McDonald’s. Too bad. He’d had other things on his mind and had had to leave quickly because of that woman and her friends. He’d remembered the sweets, so Leila should be grateful, although he doubted she would be. Grateful wasn’t a term she was familiar with.
Colin took the key from his trouser pocket and unlocked the front door. It was very quiet inside, not a sound, and also still dark.
‘Leila?’
The battery-powered lamp was hanging on its hook by the door, where it was left when not in use. Why wasn’t the child using it? She knew how to switch it on. Leaving his carrier bag and briefcase in the lobby, Colin unhooked the lamp and turned it on. ‘Leila!’ he called as the dim light fell across the living room. The room was empty.
‘Leila! Where are you?’
Holding the lamp high, he crossed the living room and went into the kitchen. She wasn’t in there either. He checked her bedroom and the bathroom – the only rooms where she could be.
‘Leila! Where the hell are you, child?’
There was no reply.
He stood in the living room and looked around, unable to make sense of what he was seeing and half expecting Leila to appear. She couldn’t have just vanished, and the front door had been locked. Then he moved swiftly to the second bedroom. They hadn’t been in it since they’d arrived because of the leaking roof. As he threw open the door, fog greeted him. Fuck! The small casement window, stuck shut from years of paint, was now wide open. The kitchen knife she’d used for cutting through the layers of paint lay on the floor. ‘Leila!’ he shouted, going to the window. ‘Leila! Come back here now!’
Thick, dark silence.
Panic-stricken, he returned to the living room and saw that Leila’s coat and shoes had gone from where they were kept. How could he have been so stupid! He should have known she couldn’t be trusted. She was feisty and streetwise, not like the average kid her age. Of course she’d find a way to escape. The child – his passport to the future – had gone and he needed to get her back. Still holding the lamp, he rushed out of the cottage to look for her.
TWENTY-FOUR
‘Leila!’ Colin shouted into the fog. He listened for any sound suggesting she might be close by. Nothing. Where the hell was she? Surely she couldn’t have gone very far in this? He hadn’t passed her on the lane when he’d driven down it, but then the fog was so thick she would have had to be directly in front of the car’s headlights for him to have seen her. ‘Leila!’ he shouted again as the freezing fog swirled around him.
His anger and frustration increased with every second. Just wait until he found her! She’d be sorry. A normal kid would never have run off in this weather; they’d have been too scared. But Leila – neglected by her mother – would have had to deal with far worse situations than fog. Whatever had he been thinking of! Just for a decent coffee and some time alone. He was as angry with himself as he was with her.
Holding the lamp high for maximum effect, Colin continued along the lane, pausing every so often to call her name and listen for any sound that might be her.
‘Leila! I know you’re out here somewhere. If you don’t come back right now, you’ll be sorry. I’ll—’
Then he thought it might be better to take a softer approach. ‘Leila, I’ve bought you the sweets you wanted. You’re not in any trouble, so come back now. Please.’
Still nothing. The fog was freezing. His face and hands were growing numb.
‘Leila! Leila!’ he shouted again, desperation in his voice.
But the only sound that came back was the crunch of his shoes on the rough surface of the lane. Even the wildlife seemed to have taken cover on a night like this.
‘Leila! Get the fuck here now!’
Surely she couldn’t have got this far, he thought, pausing again, unless of course she’d left straight after him when there’d just been a light mist. How long would it have taken her to force the window? Maybe not that long. It was two miles to the end of Fern Lane and then nearly another mile into the village, assuming she’d gone in the right direction. If she hadn’t then she’d be lost on the moor, because there was nothing in the other direction but marshland. As far as he knew she didn’t have any money with her, which was a plus. But supposing she had made it into the village and had then stopped someone and asked for help? His stomach contracted with fear. If she’d told someone everything then the police were very likely out looking for him now. He stopped dead in his tracks, unable to think. What the hell was he going to do?
With trembling hands, he took his phone from his coat pocket. The screen illuminated and showed he had half a bar of signal strength. Not enough to make a call. He continued along the lane with his phone in his hand, cold, angry and dreading the consequences of his negligence. Finally the signal strength rose to two bars – enough to make a call.
‘Leila!’ he shouted one more time.
He waited a second for a reply and then pressed Doris Goodman’s number. She’d be annoyed he was phoning when she’d explicitly told him not to, but this was an emergency and she was the only person who would know what to do. He prayed Leila hadn’t already told someone, or the police could already be on their way to arrest him. How he yearned for his flat and the humdrum life he’d left behind. He would have swapped back in an instant, regardless of the rewards he’d been promised.
The phone rang, but Doris Goodman didn’t answer. Colin suspected it was because she’d seen his number appear on the display. He waited until the call went through to voicemail, didn’t leave a message, cut the call and tried again. On the third attempt she answered.
‘I told you not to phone me under any circumstances!’ she said, annoyed.
‘I know, but I’m in trouble and I don’t know what to do.’ His teeth were chattering so much from cold and worry he could hardly get the words out.
‘What sort of trouble?’ she asked.
‘I don’t know where Leila is.’
‘How can you not know where she is? She’s supposed to be with you at my cottage.’
‘She was, but I had to go out to buy things and her whining was driving me mad. I only left her for a few hours and when I got back she’d escaped through a window.’
‘Colin! You were told not to let her out of your sight. You’d better find her damn quickly. It shouldn’t be difficult. There’s nowhere for her to go there and she doesn’t know anyone.’
‘You don’t understand. It’s not that easy. I’m looking for her now, but it’s thick fog here. I can’t see a fucking thing.’
‘Where are you?’
‘Fern Lane, about halfway along, but it’s hopeless in the fog. I don’t know what to do.’ He knew he sounded pathetic, but he was past caring.
‘You keep looking for her until you find her. That’s what you do. I doubt she’s got far in the fog. When was the last time you saw her?’
‘Around one o’clock, when I left the cottage. I told her to keep away from the windows and not to go outside.’
‘Neither can I,’ Colin admitted miserably.
‘When did you discover she was missing?’
‘About half an hour ago.’
‘And you’ve thoroughly searched the cottage? She’s not hiding in there?’
‘No,’ he said wearily.
‘How long has the fog been down?’
‘I don’t know. It was only misty when I left, and then when I came out of the shopping centre in Marsborough, around three o’clock, it was thick fog.’
Doris paused. ‘So if Leila left straight after you she might have had enough time to walk to the village. You’ve got to admire her pluck. I remember being scared stiff of the fog there when I was a child.’
Colin grunted; he wasn’t impressed at all.
‘I doubt she’s got any further than the village,’ Doris said. ‘There’s only one bus an hour, and when the fog comes down the service stops completely until it clears. My guess is she’s either walking to the village or somewhere in it. Go there now.’
‘But supposing she’s not there?’
Colin heard her sigh. ‘You could ask Maggie who runs the village store if she’s seen a young girl. She doesn’t miss much. But only ask her as a last resort. And think carefully about what you can say to explain a missing child that won’t raise suspicion.’
‘I’ve had enough of all this,’ Colin moaned, staring into the swirling fog. ‘I want to go home. Leila can take care of herself.’
‘Don’t be ridiculous! She’s eight years old. And there’s no going back for you now. The police were at your flat yesterday. I saw them from my window. After they’d gone, I went over to have a look. There’s a padlock on your front door with a police notice and a number to phone if anyone needs to get in.’
Colin let out a small cry of distress, but of course his work would have alerted the police by now. It was over two weeks since he’d gone missing. Doris was right: there was no going back, and that had been what he wanted. But whether he continued to look for Leila or not was a different matter.
‘Pull yourself together and find Leila,’ Doris said firmly. ‘She can’t be far. Take her back to the cottage and don’t let her out of your sight again.’
‘Supposing I can’t find her?’
‘You have to, or I’ll tell the police all I know. They’ve been here again asking questions.’
‘You wouldn’t.’
‘I might not have a choice if you don’t find her.’
Furious and gripped by panic, he cut the call. A noise, a rustle, came from his right. He spun round. ‘Leila?’ He held out the lamp in the direction the noise had come from but couldn’t see beyond the mist-laden bracken.
‘Leila?’ he asked again. He moved the lamp so it illuminated a different part of the heathland. He had the feeling someone or something was watching him, ready to pounce or playing a waiting game. He shivered uncontrollably. The area abounded with tales of lost travellers dying on the moor and their ghosts walking at night. He kept very still, senses alert, pure fear creeping up his spine. Get a grip, he told himself. ‘Leila? Is that you?’ he whispered.
Suddenly he started. A pair of eyes glowed orange from the bracken. Not human; they were slanted and too far apart. Frozen to the spot, Colin stared back, trembling, his hand knuckle-white from clasping the lamp. Then another movement. His heart lurched. A fox leapt out, tore past him and disappeared into the fog. His heart pounded and he gasped for breath. Not Leila, not this time. But he’d have to keep looking, and when he found her she’d be sorry for all the trouble she’d caused him. Very sorry indeed.
TWENTY-FIVE
Sharon looked at her sister sitting beside her on the sofa, shivering and wiping tears from her eyes. Without the props of alcohol and drugs, she was in a worse state than she had been in before. Why Kelsey had decided to get clean now, with all the worry and stress she was under and when she had nothing left to lose, Sharon had no idea. It didn’t make sense. Kelsey had had countless opportunities in the past to stop her substance misuse and get her life back and look after her kids, but she’d failed. Now, when she was at rock bottom, she seemed to be managing it, by herself and despite the awful side effects of withdrawing. It annoyed Sharon.
She’d witnessed Kelsey wreck not only her own life, but the lives of her children too. Piece by piece, year after year. Kelsey always phoned her for help in times of need. It was as if Kelsey had been proving to her just how much damage their stepfather had done to her, even though Sharon didn’t need any more proof. She knew the sacrifices her sister had made in order to protect her and had lived with the guilt ever since. She probably should be grateful, but she wasn’t. She resented what Kelsey had done for her, or rather, resented that she’d told her.
If she’d never found out the truth, her life might have been very different too. Maybe she’d even have a loving partner and family of her own. Knowing had put a stop to that. She’d never let a man get close, because she didn’t trust any of them. How could you be sure what you were getting? Men didn’t come with a health warning: with ‘paedophile’ stamped on their foreheads. Even if they did, Sharon doubted their mother would have taken notice of it. No, she would have been like a dedicated smoker, convinced that the ill effects didn’t apply to her. Kelsey had told their mother what their stepfather was doing and she had called her a liar, then sent her to apologize to the bastard, which had in effect given him permission to continue. Both their mother and stepfather were dead now, but their legacy continued.
‘I saw Peter Harris this morning,’ Sharon said, breaking out of her thoughts.
‘Why?’ Kelsey asked, surprised.
‘I needed to talk to him about what will happen when Leila is found.’
‘If she’s found,’ Kelsey said, fresh tears forming.
‘I’m sure she will be,’ Sharon reassured her.
‘I wish I had your confidence. I know the police think she is dead.’
Taking a deep breath, Sharon chose her next words very carefully. ‘Kelsey, what’s your understanding of what will happen to Leila when she’s found?’
‘If she’s found,’ Kelsey corrected again. ‘You don’t have to worry about that. Peter’s already told me they have a care order, so Leila will go straight to a foster carer.’ Her tears spilled over and her hands shook.
‘There is another way,’ Sharon said.
‘What are you talking about?’
‘Leila could come to live with me. I know when I’ve offered this before you’ve always refused and said you were going to make good so you could look after her. Clearly that’s not an option now, so wouldn’t it be better if Leila lived with me, rather than go to a foster carer she doesn’t know?’
Kelsey thought for a moment. ‘When you put it like that it does make sense. What did Peter say?’
‘He agreed. He said that generally the social services prefer children to live with a relative if they can’t be looked after by their own parents. He couldn’t see a problem, as long as you didn’t raise any objection.’
‘Sounds like you two had a good chat,’ Kelsey said suspiciously.
‘Yes, we did, but only because we want what’s best for you and Leila.’
‘You’re talking about her as if you know she’s still alive,’ Kelsey said, suddenly looking at her sister.
‘I’m hopeful. We have to stay positive. Well, what do you say? Surely it’s better if Leila lives with me rather than a complete stranger?’
‘I guess, but for how long?’
‘Probably until she’s an adult.’
‘But you don’t really like kids,’ Kelsey said. ‘I mean, you never had any of your own.’
How little her sister knew of her and what she’d been through. ‘I might have, given the opportunity.’
‘I’d be able to see her whenever I wanted?’ Kelsey asked.
‘Yes. The exact contact arrangements would be se
t by the social services, but I don’t see why not. Peter said contact would probably need to be supervised, but I can do that.’
Kelsey held her sister’s gaze. ‘You’ve gone into this in a lot of depth, even though Leila hasn’t been found, and might never be.’
‘It makes sense to plan ahead, doesn’t it?’
‘I guess.’
‘So you agree?’
‘Yes, assuming she’s found alive. Which I doubt she will be.’
TWENTY-SIX
Beth picked up her desk phone, ready to key in the number for Belsize Nursing Home. It was always difficult, informing the next of kin that a loved one was missing and a suicide note had been found so they should expect the worse. Usually an officer went to see the next of kin in person, but in this case it was different. Colin Weaver was still a suspect in the disappearance of Leila Smith and his mother was in Belsize Nursing Home, which specialized in the care of dementia patients. Beth felt it was appropriate to speak to the person in charge of the home first, because quite possibly Mrs Weaver’s dementia would mean she didn’t understand what she was being told.
The call was answered by a woman who simply said, ‘Belsize Nursing Home.’ Beth asked to speak to the manager.
A minute later the care-home manager came on the line. ‘Margaret Evans speaking.’
Beth introduced herself and said, ‘Thank you for making the time to speak to me. I understand Mrs Jean Weaver is a patient of yours?’
‘Yes, that’s correct.’
‘I’m afraid I have some bad news. Her son, Colin, is missing – possible suicide, although his body hasn’t been found yet.’
‘Oh dear, that’s dreadful,’ the woman gasped, clearly shocked. ‘I am sorry. Whatever drove him to that, I wonder? But it explains why our last payment was refused by his bank.’