The Runaway

by Linda Huber

  Rob swigged his beer. A deep, dark hole was opening in front of him. ‘Good idea,’ he said.

  After twenty-four hours with the Shiptons, Nicola felt stronger. Not better, not more hopeful, but physically stronger. Deb was right, she needed to look after herself.

  She’d spent the morning on her laptop designing a new flyer while Deb checked online responses and provided cups of herb tea and healthy snacks. The flyer looked good – two photos of Kelly, one laughing into the camera, the other a more thoughtful Kelly, taken last year while she was choosing her meal at their favourite Italian restaurant in London. Nicola stroked a finger down her daughter’s cheek. Pizza or pasta, a hard decision and oh please God she’d get to do this with Kelly again.

  Deb came to look over her shoulder. ‘Nice. There’s a printer near the bus station; you’d get better quality there than if we did it here. We could walk along and you can choose your paper etc in person.’

  The woman at the printer’s was very helpful and ran off a sample flyer on the spot before promising the rest by late afternoon. Nicola went to collect them at four, renewed hope in her heart and knowing she mustn’t lose this new hope, not ever. If Kelly was there to be found, it would happen one day. Even now they were finding fresh things to do – another of Deb’s ideas was to put a new kind of pinned post on both Facebook and Twitter every day or two – a message to Kelly from Mum. Nicola had written the first with agony in her soul. Here she was, pouring her heart out and literally millions of people would read this, something so private, so uniquely for her daughter, but what did it matter, if it gave Kelly the final push to make contact?

  Yesterday’s blustery weather was gone and summer sunshine was beating down as Nicola mingled with the tourists meandering around between old town and beach. It wasn’t London, but she’d have enjoyed living here, if she and Ed had followed the plan to sell the house and move into town. And Kelly would have too, once she’d settled in. Nicola pushed ‘what might have been’ away. She would drop into the Arts Centre with a supply of new flyers, and update her old friends and colleagues there.

  On the way she passed the church, and glanced into the neighbouring cemetery. Amelia was buried here; she could go and see what the headstone was like. Ed had dealt with the arrangements, raging that his sister wasn’t helping more, but there was a limit to what Melanie could do from Skye.

  The cemetery was leafy, shady and deserted. Nicola wandered around the older graves, tranquillity seeping into her bones. Nothing was forever, but some things stayed around long enough to impact the air around them. Look at this, a family grave, the occupants dead for over a century and the stone slanted and mossy. Yet here they were, bringing peace to a corner of England. She moved down a side path to the more recent graves, walking along the row by the oak tree where Amelia was and – oh. There was no stone. The wooden cross that marked all graves until a headstone could be erected was still in situ, looking rather the worse for wear.

  Nicola tidied the grave, which was covered by the layer of gravel most people had here, then stood up. She should ask Ed about the headstone – but it was none of her business now, was it?

  On the way back to the main path she met the vicar who’d conducted Amelia’s funeral service, a white-haired elderly man. He recognised her straightaway.

  ‘Mrs Seaton – Nicola, isn’t it? I heard about your girl. Is there any news?’

  A warm hand enveloped hers, and Nicola switched on her ‘talking about Kelly to strangers without falling apart’ mode.

  ‘Not yet. I’m staying in London to search for her, but I’m back to collect some things and to see people here.’

  He squeezed her hand. ‘How’s Ed? It must be dreadful for him too. First his father, and now his daughter disappearing. I’ll add you all to the Sunday prayers.’

  Nicola’s scepticism about religion had immediately reared up, but the second part of the vicar’s speech jolted her. It was true… first Ed’s father, now Kelly. How odd, she’d never thought of it like that before.

  ‘Did you know Ed’s father?’ She fell into step beside him.

  ‘It was before my time here, I’m afraid.’

  He escorted her to the gate, and Nicola shook hands and left him with a handful of flyers. Ed’s father sounded about as trustworthy as his son. Why would a grown man disappear, unless the police were after him, or something equally unsavoury? And now she thought about it, was Ed’s father ever proven dead? And if he wasn’t – what did that mean for Amelia’s estate?

  Chapter Nineteen

  Wednesday, 1st August

  Poor Mia was still terrified. Kelly held her all night, hushing the cries as nightmares chased through Mia’s sleep, and once being wakened from her own bad dream by the child in her arms shushing her in turn.

  In the morning, they sat on the mattress and gaped at each other.

  ‘Can we flush the loo?’ Mia’s eyes were huge. ‘What will he do, to finish us?’

  Kelly banged her hands on the mattress. ‘We have to flush the loo. And don’t worry, I won’t let anyone finish you.’

  Mia didn’t look convinced, and she didn’t flush the loo, either. Kelly strode in after her and flushed defiantly, then they both sat waiting for retribution from above. Nothing happened.

  ‘See? The loo’s fine, I’m sure he wouldn’t even hear it. He meant we shouldn’t yell for help or bang stuff.’ And what he’d really meant was for them both to be scared witless – and she was scared, but she was mad as hell with him too. Kelly dropped her voice to a murmur. A new idea had come, and she needed Mia to cooperate.

  ‘Okay – we can’t get the board off the window. But look – there’s still the fan hole up in the other corner. If we could get the fan off, or part of it, we could throw something out and hope someone finds it.’ Someone other than her father, of course, which wasn’t likely, but they had no other options.

  Mia wriggled closer to whisper in Kelly’s ear. ‘What can we throw out?’

  ‘How about your watch?’

  Mia pushed her sleeve up and peered at the watch. ‘Then we won’t know what time it is.’

  ‘We’ll notice when it gets dark, and then light again. We don’t need to know the exact time, and anyway, what else have we got? It’s not as if we could chuck out a letter.’

  Mia screwed her face up. ‘You have rings, and I have my locket. This was mum’s – my birth mum’s.’ She pulled around her neck, and produced a gold chain with a heart on it.

  Kelly tapped her fingers together. It was true, they had a few bits of jewellery between them, and the loss of a ring or a chain was more bearable than doing without the watch. Knowing the time did make life seem more normal, though that was the craziest of all the crazy thoughts she’d had in this hellhole.

  ‘Okay. But first we have to get the fan out.’

  Reaching the fan was harder than getting to the window. It was higher on the wall, and smaller. Mia’s bony little feet pressed agonisingly on Kelly’s shoulders, and she gritted her teeth.

  ‘Careful up there, kiddo. How does it look?’

  ‘I think it’s plastic. I’ve bent a bit but it’s still attached.’

  Plastic was good news. ‘Bend it backwards and forwards. It’ll break off eventually.’

  Mia’s breathing filled the room for several minutes, then she flung a blade of the fan to the floor. ‘Got it! I still can’t get my hand outside, though.’

  ‘Do another one. Want a rest, first?’

  But Mia was on a roll. Three more sections of fan flew to the floor before she announced, ‘I can get my hand out. There’s a lot of earth or something in the hole.’

  ‘Good work, kiddo. Can you shove the earth outside?’

  Mia wobbled as she shoved, and Kelly flinched.

  ‘It’s out. The wall’s quite thick, though.’

  ‘Think you’ll manage to chuck something out?’

  ‘Uh-huh. I’m coming down.’

  Kelly was glad of the respite. They sat on the
mattress eating the last two apples and pooling their jewellery.

  ‘Let’s try the chain and one ring first. You can try to throw them in different directions. Then we’ll wait a day or two, and try the other rings if that hasn’t worked.’ Kelly tried to sound confident because all this was shoring up hope for Mia, but the stuff being found must be the longest shot with the longest odds ever, like winning EuroMillions or marrying Justin Bieber.

  Mia fingered the chain. ‘Do you remember my mum?’

  Kelly’s memories were hazy. ‘She was kind. And funny. She loved you to bits, kiddo. I reckon she’d like her chain to help you now, but if you don’t want to use it, we can try two of my rings first.’

  Mia passed over the chain. ‘I think she’d like that too.’

  An hour later, the gold chain and Kelly’s skull ring were outside. Mia thought the chain had landed in the grass, but she wasn’t sure about the ring.

  Kelly high-fived the child. ‘Good work, partner. Let’s celebrate with a game of I Spy.’

  Mia dropped onto the mattress. ‘I spy on the beach – something beginning with ‘p’!’

  Kelly leaned back against the wall. It was a good game; letting them imagine all sorts of places. They had the beach, a bedroom, Tesco’s and the library before Mia grew tired of it. For a while the little girl was silent, then she slid along the mattress to Kelly, who gave her a hug. Thank God, thank God, she had Mia.

  ‘Kelly… Why did he shut me up here too?’

  ‘He’s just bad, kid. It wasn’t your fault.’

  ‘It was. I was in his house.’

  ‘Have you remembered anything more?’

  Mia cuddled up closer. ‘I remember going down the stairs with my torch. I was looking for a clue about where you had run away to. Then it got light behind me and it was him. I think he threw something at me. When I woke up it was dark and I was scared and I went back to sleep again, and then he woke me up and pushed me in here with you.’

  ‘I heard you, before he shoved you in. I thought you were a ghost, or a cat.’ Kelly rummaged in the box and gave Mia the last muesli bar with chocolate on it.

  Mia spoke through a full mouth. ‘I hope someone will find my locket soon.’

  ‘Sure to.’ Kelly tried to sound optimistic, but if the locket was in the grass the odds against it were high. And who other than her father ever went round the back, anyway? But keep up the myth, Kel, keep Mia happy. They’d have time enough to despair.

  Nicola finished the eighth ‘message from Mum’ on her word doc, saved it and sent it to Deb’s email. The plan was to have a small supply to swap in and out of the social media accounts. They were hard to write, but Nicola had to admit the personal message was more eye-catching than the previous ‘Have you seen Kelly?’ pinned posts. It was getting more shares and retweets, too, so the reach was greater.

  ‘I should get back to London,’ she said, as Deb appeared with morning coffee. ‘There’s no excuse to stay longer. I’ll get onto the van hire place today.’ She went back to her room for her mobile, charging on the desk there. Oh heck – she’d missed a call from Ed. Was Kelly–? Fingers shaking, she connected. Ed wasn’t great at taking calls…

  ‘Nicola, hi. I was wondering what you’d decided about the furniture. I’m on holiday this week so I can help you load a van.’

  Well. Mr Cooperative in person. Obviously, he was looking forward to getting rid of her.

  ‘I’m not taking much. My secretaire, the rocking chair, a mattress, and a load of small stuff in boxes. I’m going to arrange the van today, so I’ll text you when I’m coming.’

  ‘Sure you don’t want to take more? A good vanful would save you coming back and forward.’

  ‘My London place is tiny, and anyway, I can’t concentrate on anything other than the search.’ And it was looking less and less likely that the search would be successful any time soon. And how horrible it was that one minute she was so upbeat about a couple of retweets, and the next it all seemed futile.

  ‘She’ll come home when her money runs out, never fear.’

  How could he be cheerful about this god-awful situation? What a scumbag he was.

  ‘Yeah, the twenty quid or so she had with her will be running out soon, won’t it? By the way, what’s happening with your mother’s headstone? Did you forget to pay for it? And Ed – has your dad been registered or whatever as officially dead? Because if he hasn’t, it might make it hard to sell the house.’

  His voice was back to the usual void-of-emotion tightness. ‘The stone’s being organised. And Mum had my father declared dead about ten years after he vanished, don’t worry.’

  And why hadn’t she known that? Because he’d never told her…

  Nicola ended the call and stared at Deb. ‘How could I have lived with him for over seventeen years and not seen what he was really like?’

  ‘I guess you were both busy living your lives and bringing up your child. People change, Nicola. It’s not your fault.’ Deb went over to the laptop. ‘Okay – let’s find a van hire place. It might be best to go and look at them properly to see what size you’ll need and what you’ll be comfortable driving.’

  A trip to a van hire company filled the rest of the morning, and Nicola texted Ed to say she’d be round with the van on Friday afternoon. The size she needed was booked until then, and the next largest was out of her comfort zone.

  ‘Good,’ said Deb, taking her arm as they walked back to the Beach Café. ‘I get to spoil you a little longer, and you get to tank up more strength. Win-win.’

  Nicola gazed out over the Atlantic, sapphire blue today beneath a sky to match, the usual powderpuff clouds chasing each other inland. Win for her, lose for Kelly. Her daughter was unlikely to be heading for an ice cream parlour right now.

  Scout was barking non-stop in the back garden, and it was driving Rob mad. They should have sent him back to Brighton with Phoebe, then he’d have been at Dave’s kennels now and out of their hair. This was hellish; he didn’t have anything to do today and… He strode to the kitchen window and glared out. Scout was pulling on the long washing line that was anchoring him to the garden table, obviously desperate to get at the apples in the garden next door. Rob swore.

  ‘Let’s bring him inside.’ Dorothy hurried out and returned with Scout leaping around her, full of the joys of life.

  ‘Mum. Can’t he shut up for five minutes?’

  ‘I’ll take him for a walk along the cliff path. He’s got his energy back and he’s silly with it. Why don’t you come too, Rob, love?’

  Rob shook his head. Today was about waiting until they could meet the holiday flats owner to accept his measly offer, so he did have something to do; he could organise their departure for the weekend. He would go with Dorothy to Brighton and he’d see Phoebe, but whether he could stand staying away from St Ives was another matter. But he couldn’t stand being here, either.

  Speaking with a weight the size of an elephant in his gut, he arranged for the removal company, who also cleared houses, to come on Friday to empty the place after the Salvation Army had collected as much of the remaining furniture as they could use. When his mother returned, he was able to tell her they could leave at the weekend.

  She put a hand on his arm. ‘Oh, Rob.’

  For a moment they held each other tightly. He wouldn’t have got through this without her, but how he wished they’d never come here.

  It was ten minutes before they realised Scout wasn’t with them. Dorothy’s eyes were bleary in a red-blotched face, and she sank helplessly into a kitchen chair, motioning Rob to the hallway. And of course, the bloody back door was open. Rob strode out to the garden. He couldn’t stand the sight of the animal now, but it wasn’t fair to let his mother do all the dog care.

  Scout wasn’t in the garden, which left one place to look, and if Ed Seaton gave him grief again about the bloody dog eating his bloody apples… Tight-lipped, Rob strode round to the neighbouring property, grabbed Scout, who was sniffing around the bac
k of the house, and clipped his lead on.

  He was pulling the dog away from whatever was so interesting near the back wall when sunlight glinted in the grass close to the house. Rob bent, and lifted a golden chain with a heart pendant attached. Oh my God. Mia’s pendant. How long had this been here? He raised the chain to his face and inhaled, cold gold pressing against his lips, but no scent of his child was left. Rob fled home to Dorothy in the kitchen and slid the pendant over the table top.

  ‘I found this next door – she must have lost it when she was over there playing sometime.’

  Dorothy touched the chain, her lips trembling. Rob put the kettle on, his mobile buzzing while he was waiting for the water to boil. Mike the FLO – had they found–?

  Of course not. The officer’s deep voice was calm as ever and it drove Rob bananas. A little emotion would be allowable, surely? Or didn’t Mike care? Just another case? This was Rob’s daughter, and his daughter was his life…

  The other man droned on and on with his account of negative sightings in Truro and pointless searches of empty buildings in St Ives, and Rob stopped listening as another train of thought started in his mind. Mia had been in that garden several times and it was entirely possible she’d lost the locket on one of them. On the other hand, she’d never mentioned it was missing. Which meant – what?

  ‘I found Mia’s locket in the garden next door,’ he blurted out, interrupting the FLO mid-sentence.

  ‘Oh? When?’

  ‘Five minutes ago.’

  ‘Rob, what are you saying?’

  Rob clutched the phone to his head. He had seen Ed Seaton drive away the morning Mia disappeared. He’d also seen the man drive back after Mia had vanished. He didn’t know what he was saying.

  A few seconds silence, then the FLO spoke again. ‘I’ll see someone comes round.’