The Runaway

by Linda Huber

  ‘A police car will come and collect you. Wait there.’

  The connection broke. They hadn’t found Kelly… so what could be so urgent they were picking her up? Ed had given her the usual no-news report only yesterday. Had something happened to him? Or her parents? But why would the police…?

  A few minutes later a blue and yellow car drew up, and an officer got out, flashing her ID. ‘DC Evans. Would you like to sit in the back, and I’ll explain?’

  Nicola got in without speaking. A middle-aged man behind the wheel IDed himself as DS Cuthbert. DC Evans got in beside Nicola, which did nothing for her peace of mind.

  DS Cuthbert spoke. ‘We don’t know if it’s Kelly, Mrs Seaton, but a young girl was found on the streets near the Royal London Hospital a few hours ago. I’m sorry to say she died a short time ago in A&E. Would you be prepared to look at her to see if you can make an identification?’

  Nicola’s ears were buzzing. She clutched her head, fighting the shriek of horror, and DC Evans passed her a tissue.

  ‘It might not be your daughter. But the sooner we all know, the better, huh?’

  Nicola could barely get the words out. ‘Don’t you have a photo?’ There was two beats silence in the car before DS Cuthbert spoke again.

  ‘I’m afraid the girl has significant facial injuries. But you might be able to identify her by other marks – these are her earrings.’

  He held up a tablet with – oh God, this was so unspeakable – the photo of an ear with a small gold loop earring. And how shameful – she didn’t know if it was Kelly’s ear.

  ‘She does have pierced ears but she has so many earrings and I’ve no idea… I’ll do it. Of course.’

  Nicola swallowed bile as the car sped back the way she’d walked, past St Pancras and King’s Cross and on towards Whitechapel. She’d have said nothing could be as bad as not knowing where her daughter was, but that was wrong; this was much, much worse. Squeezing her hands between her knees didn’t stop the shaking, and she was shaking all the way inside, too and oh God, she was so alone.

  The journey was mercifully short. At the hospital, the officers marched on either side of her through A&E to a side corridor.

  A nurse appeared and took Nicola’s arm. ‘What’s your name, love? Would you like a cup of tea first?’

  Nicola shuddered. If she swallowed anything at all she would be sick. ‘Nicola.’

  ‘Okay. I’ll be right beside you. The girl’s on a trolley with her face covered. Look at the hair, the neck, the hands. Does your daughter have any birthmarks or scars?’

  Nicola’s teeth were chattering. She couldn’t do this, but she had to. ‘No. She has a couple of little moles on her arms, but–’ She pressed her lips together.

  ‘Shall we get this done? Are you ready?’

  The nurse gripped her hand tightly, and led the way into a small, windowless room containing little except a trolley, where a white sheet was covering a still form. A slim form. Like Kelly.

  Nicola swallowed sour saliva. They walked up to the head end of the trolley – in five seconds, she would know. The nurse let go her hand to lift the sheet, and Nicola screwed her eyes shut, breathing through her mouth, her hand shaking in mid-air until the nurse grasped it again.

  ‘You can look now, Nicola.’

  Chapter Seven

  Sunday, 2nd August

  The rain that had threatened all morning eventually arrived in a cloudburst at two o’clock, and Rob loped to the back door to dry Scout’s paws before he walked over Mum’s living room carpet. Rob towelled Scout vigorously before turning to Mia, who was sitting on the floor taking her trainers off.

  ‘All dry?’

  ‘We came in when the rain started.’ She sounded huffy, and Rob tousled her hair.

  ‘Ah, Mia – you’re growing up. A year or two ago you’d have thought it was fun, playing in the rain.’

  She brightened. ‘Scout thought it was fun – he was trying to catch raindrops in his mouth!’

  ‘That’s because he’s a pup and still silly. Why don’t you come upstairs and help Phoebe and me with the last of Nan’s boxes from the attic? Some have old clothes in them – you could dress up. I’m sure Nan won’t mind.’

  His mother had gone to play rummy with a group of friends in St Ives.

  Mia kicked her trainers to the side. ‘Ooh! Can I have a little packet of Smarties to take up with me?’

  ‘Sure. Tall cupboard, middle shelf.’

  Mia opened the cupboard, and Rob started back to the hallway, swinging into the living room when his mother’s landline phone shrilled out.

  ‘Rob Gillan here.’

  ‘It’s Nicola. Is Dorothy at home, please?’

  She sounded close to tears. Rob explained where his mother was, adding, ‘Can I help?’ The number of things that could be going wrong for Nicola was too ghastly to think about, and hopefully this wasn’t going to be the worst of them.

  ‘The police contacted me this morning to say they had the body of a teenage girl that might be Kelly.’ Her voice broke. ‘I had to go and identify her. It wasn’t Kel, but… now I’m left with the picture of a poor dead kid with no face in my head, and her mother doesn’t know yet and…’ She disintegrated into sobs.

  Rob’s hand slipped on the receiver. ‘Shit, that’s awful. Nicola, is there no one you can go to in London? To help you, I mean?’

  She sniffed. ‘I called a couple of friends but they didn’t pick up, and neither did Ed. I’m still at the hospital.’

  ‘Nicola, I’m so sorry. You shouldn’t be alone – please find a friend to go to. And I’ll get Mum to call you as soon as she’s home, okay?’

  ‘Thanks, Rob. But I think I’ll carry on searching; I don’t want to waste time. At least I can still hope I have a daughter alive to find.’

  ‘I’m sure Kelly must be alive, she must be.’ He broke off. Even if Kelly was alive, she could be suffering in a whole lot of different ways. ‘Did the police say anything more?’

  ‘Not really. She’s still on their database or whatever, but they don’t seem to be searching as much as – keeping an eye open, like they did with this poor kid today.’

  ‘Don’t lose hope.’ Rob couldn’t think what else to say.

  ‘I’ll try.’

  He replaced the receiver and sat still, his head in his hands. What kind of guy didn’t take a call when his wife was searching for their child? He would watch out for Ed Seaton and go and yell at him. No. He wouldn’t. He’d tell his mother and leave that to her. If he did it, he’d probably thump the man.

  Rob went out to the hallway, circling tight shoulders. Mia was sitting on the stairs with an unopened packet of Smarties in one hand, her eyes huge. Rob clutched the stair post. She must have heard every word.

  Dressing up wasn’t as good as it usually was. Dad was being very nice and jokey, but it wasn’t proper fun. He’d explained Kelly was still alive but her mum was worried, then he’d taken Mia upstairs to look at Nan’s old clothes in the box. Phoebe must have thought Dad was being peculiar too because she asked him what was up, but he shook his head and nodded towards Mia. Then Dad and Phoebe went downstairs to make coffee and when they came back they were both being peculiar and jokey. Everything felt all wrong.

  The rest of the day was all wrong too, because as soon as Nan was home, Dad took her into the living room while Mia and Phoebe made pizza in the kitchen, and when Nan came back to the kitchen Mia couldn’t tell if she was cross or sad, but now she was being jolly on the outside too. After dinner Mia had a bath in Nan’s enormous old bath, and Phoebe let her have some lovely smelly bath foam, but somehow, sitting there in the hot water, all Mia wanted to do was cry. It was the most horrible day she’d ever had at Nan’s.

  The sun was up before her next morning and Mia jumped out of bed, but Dad came in and said it was too early to get up. He took her for a snuggle in bed with Phoebe. Mia went in the middle and Phoebe had her tablet and they looked at some of the places they could go to in Cornwall
, if the weather stayed nice. It was fun, but Mia kept thinking how much better it would be if Kelly was here to come on outings too. Last year, they’d all gone to Penzance together.

  One of Nan’s bacon butties was almost ready for her when Mia went downstairs. Dad and Phoebe were still getting dressed, and Mia tucked in, glad that Nan was her usual nice kind self today. If Kelly’d been here, it would be a lovely holiday.

  ‘Do you think Nicola will find Kelly soon?’ Mia took a bite of butty.

  Nan pulled a face. ‘I hope so, sweetheart. Kelly needs to be at home with her mum.’

  Mia sat up straight to see the driveway next door. Kelly’s dad’s car wasn’t there. She would go back and try again to find clues. She could look under Kelly’s pillow this time, or in the top drawer – most people had a mess of different things in their top drawers. Somebody had to find Kelly. The grown-ups were being all peculiar about it and it was scary. Mia swallowed.

  After breakfast, she seized her chance. Nan was going have her hair done, and Dad and Phoebe were still upstairs.

  ‘See you later,’ she said, when Nan was almost ready to go.

  Nan kissed her, and picked up her bag. ‘Why don’t you take Scout outside for a little while? Look, he’s raring to go.’

  It was true; Scout wanted to play. Mia felt mean when she left him alone as soon as Nan’s car was gone. She’d be back in ten minutes, though, in case Dad and Phoebe came down. But she could go back as many times as she liked, as long as Kelly’s dad wasn’t there. And one time, she’d find a clue to Kelly. She would.

  Chapter Eight

  Tuesday, 4th August

  The rush hour was full on when Nicola left her room on Tuesday morning. The search was relentless, day after day after day, and still she hadn’t covered half the areas “they” said were attractive to kids who came to London in search of whatever. Nicola rubbed dry eyes and started out for the tube. She was late; she’d hit the ‘cancel’ button instead of ‘snooze’ when the alarm went off this morning and it had cost her forty minutes. It didn’t matter; she’d work longer tonight. And here was the tube station.

  Nicola slapped her oyster card on the machine, hurrying through and joining the crowds on the platform. The train screeched in, and she took her seat for the first leg of her trip to today’s search area, starting at Kingsland High Street. Gone were the days she’d have walked all the way. Rattling through London, she closed her eyes. Kelly could be anywhere, being forced to do God knows what.

  She couldn’t go on much longer. Her savings were dwindling, and Ed… Clearly, one of them had to stay in Cornwall, but hell – he could have come to help at weekends, and the fact that he didn’t was killing their marriage faster than she’d ever have thought possible. Lips pressed together, Nicola left the tube. Should she take the overground now, or walk the rest of the way? It was a busy place; someone might have seen Kelly…

  She extracted a handful of flyers and walked slowly but steadily through summer sunshine and London streets. And people. She’d given up rushing around; covering more miles didn’t make it any likelier she’d stumble across her daughter, or someone who recognised her photo. You noticed more if you walked slowly; little alleyways, doorways with a figure huddled in the corner waiting until it was time to go back to a hostel or find a different place to sleep. So many places.

  When mid-afternoon arrived, she was sitting in a café near London Fields Lido nursing a lukewarm mug, having passed out a couple of hundred flyers, talked to many but gained information from none, and walked the sole off one of her trainers. Nicola glared at her foot. She’d have to go back and change her shoes before heading round some shelters. She hadn’t been to any for a couple of days, and you never knew if someone might have come in, someone who’d look at Kelly’s poster and say, ‘Oh, I saw her the other day.’ Hope springs eternal. And – Nicola stuck her chin in the air as she left the café. Tonight she would go to Soho. She didn’t do these places as often as she should; it was the worst thought in the world, her Kelly, a street girl.

  At half past nine that evening she left the tube at Tottenham Court Road. The streets of Soho were vibrant with tourists milling around, music pounding from bars, tables spilling over onto the pavement, lights and signs flashing, people talking and laughing, and – clubs with girls. Nicola’s eyes filled, and the handful of flyers clutched to her chest was no protection against the horror image of an empty-eyed Kelly on the street in a mini skirt and long boots. If that happened, nothing, nothing would ever be the same again. Kelly homeless, sleeping under a bridge and begging for coins to buy not enough to eat – that could almost be put right. But not this. ‘Peep show, girls girls girls’, flashed red from a window. And who was she kidding? Walking around the streets handing out flyers wasn’t going to bring her into contact with these girls, and this was Soho – the Kellys of London wouldn’t be here. There were much worse places where pimps and prostitutes did their business, and there was no way she could find them all, never mind search them.

  A woman brushed past her on the way to the club door, stumbling on high-heeled boots over red tights, goose bumps all the way up her arms as daylight faded and the breeze stirring down the street became increasingly chilly.

  Nicola grabbed her elbow and thrust her handful of flyers under the woman’s nose. ‘I’m looking for my daughter, have you–’

  ‘Inside, Emma.’ A man emerged from the club and stared belligerently.

  The woman went in without giving Nicola a second glance, and she slumped. Useless. Exhaustion hit her, and she turned into a bistro and slid onto a stool at the bar.

  ‘Coke, please. I’m looking for my daughter, have you seen her?’

  The barman’s eyes glazed over. He barely glanced at the flyer, then deposited a cold glass in front of her.

  Nicola sat still, breathing quietly while she fought to keep her composure. She would never get used to this kind of reaction. Sympathy was easier to cope with than someone who didn’t care two hoots that her child was missing. Another hour outside, then she’d have to go home and sleep or she’d be dead tomorrow. Was Kelly dead? No, no.

  ‘Looking for company, love?’ A man slid onto the stool beside her and leaned over, his breath hot in her face.

  Nicola grabbed her glass, swigged the coke back and left without speaking. Christ. What chance would Kelly have in the middle of all this?

  ‘Have you seen this girl?’ ‘I’m looking for my daughter, have you…’ But they were here to have a good time, these people, none of them wanted to think about a distraught mother and a missing child. After the sixth head-shake and averted eyes, Nicola had had enough. She scuttled along a darkening street to the tube, ignoring concerned, mocking, wondering glances from tourists and others. This was too much. If Kelly was a street girl, she would never be found and they would both be damned forever to a life of misery.

  Back in her room, Nicola pressed a cold hand to her hot forehead, shivering. She had summer flu or some bug, hell, and no one here to dose her up with hot lemon and paracetamol. She rummaged in her bag, then popped a couple of pills from their plastic bubbles, tossing them back with a mouthful of water before lying back on the narrow bed. All home comforts. Ha.

  She flipped her mobile open to see what had come in. The usual text from her mother, a couple of messages from friends. Sorry you had such a dreadful experience on Sunday. Thank God it wasn’t Kelly from Sue. Why wasn’t Ed rushing to help her after the ‘experience’? Virtually everyone else she had told about it had texted or called since Sunday. Ed’s reaction had been, Glad it wasn’t Kelly. I’m at work. Call you later. But he never had. Anger fizzed into Nicola’s hot head, and she tapped on her mobile. The jolt of surprise when he took the call was telling.

  ‘Hi Nic. Feeling better after Sunday?’

  At least he’d asked. ‘I’m not going to feel better as long as Kelly’s still missing. Have you heard anything more from the police? I thought I’d go tomorrow and have a word with them here, make
sure I know what’s going on.’

  ‘For God’s sake, Nic, leave that one thing to me. You’re being neurotic and controlling. Do you realise how many kids run off to London every year?’

  ‘That’s not relevant – we’re talking about Kelly. And I could do with some help to search for her, Ed.’

  ‘Do you think two of us bumbling around the streets would make any difference? Going to London was her choice, remember.’

  Nicola gripped the phone. That was cruel. He was right, two of them were unlikely to find Kelly any quicker, but that wasn’t the point. Where was the concern, the anguish?

  ‘She’s hurt, Ed – we hurt her, taking her to Cornwall.’

  ‘None of this would have happened if she hadn’t been so wilful and disobedient.’

  ‘For God’s sake, she’s a teenager. Don’t you remember what it’s like?’

  He gave a short laugh. ‘Only too well. And I want nothing to do with Kelly’s way of being a teenager. If you want to continue looking for her then carry on, but we can’t afford it and your chances of finding her are completely non-existent. This is Kelly’s own fault – and yours, for pandering to her.’

  Nicola’s anger erupted. ‘If that’s what you’re thinking, then I want nothing to do with you. You’re being–’

  ‘The feeling’s mutual, Nicola. Do what you have to.’

  ‘I will. And if I have to look for my daughter alone, I’ll move back to London properly and search in a bit more comfort.’

  ‘You do that. You can pick up your stuff any time.’

  The connection broke and Nicola gaped at her mobile. Had she just ended her seventeen-year marriage on the phone? Or had he ended it?

  She lay with her eyes closed, waiting for the pills to take effect. She didn’t have time to be ill.

  Chapter Nine

  Tuesday, 4th August