by Ann Troup
‘Oi! Watch your lip and show some respect!’
Brodie snorted. ‘That was a joke, right?’
‘Ladies, please?’ Elaine muttered. ‘This isn’t helping anyone.’
Brodie bristled at the castigation. ‘Well, she started it, going on about stuff and being horrible.’ She turned to Fern. ‘Anyway, what do you mean about Alex?’
Fern shrugged. ‘He’s all over the papers, banging on about her, how wonderful it is that she’s been found, how her disappearance has haunted his family blah blah, and how he found fucking friendship with her and all. Some people have short memories, that’s all I can say.’
Brodie frowned. She looked at Elaine, who didn’t seem to be taking any of it in. ‘What do you mean?’
Fern pulled out a cigarette and lit it. ‘When they was kids he was as cruel as fuck to her, used to treat her like a pet dog. He was always making her cry, not that she needed much help with that, she was a whiny little shit.’
‘What I want to know,’ Brodie said, trying to absorb this new information, ‘is where you were the day she went missing?’
Fern stiffened and looked away. ‘Minding my own business, that’s where. It weren’t nothing to do with me, she weren’t my problem.’
Brodie scrutinised her. ‘You know something don’t you? You know something and you never said a word!’
Fern stubbed her cigarette out in Dan’s Belfast sink and immediately lit another. ‘I don’t know nothing, never did. Besides it’s all ancient fucking history now! So, you coming with me or what?’
‘Am I buggery! I’m staying with her, like you should have done.’ Brodie stated angrily.
‘Well, I’m wasting my fucking time then. I’ve had enough of this shit, you and her are welcome to each other. You needn’t think you’re getting any of Mum’s money, you walk away now and you’re on your own, Brodie Miller!’
‘What frigging money?’ Brodie asked. ‘She didn’t have any frigging money.’
Fern stubbed out the second cigarette. ‘No, but she had life insurance.’
Elaine piped up from her place at the table. ‘I doubt it will pay out, she committed suicide. Time to go I think Fern.’
‘You’ve perked up, was it the mention of money?’ Fern said, about to light another cigarette.
‘No, you just have a very sobering effect. And no one gave you permission to smoke in here. Dan will be back any minute, and I don’t suppose he will be too happy to find you here, so I really do think it’s time for you to leave.’
Fern shrugged and put the cigarette back in the packet. ‘Suit yourself, no skin off my nose.’ She sauntered to the front door and let herself out.
Brodie looked from the front door to Elaine. ‘What the chuff was all that about?’
‘Your guess is as good as mine flower. Are you ready to go?’
‘Yeah, but what about your head? You can’t drive like that.’
‘I’m OK, the tablets are kicking in. Give me a minute, and we’ll get going.’
Elaine sat at the kitchen table and tried to compose a letter to Dan that would explain why they were leaving. No matter how she thought it through she just couldn’t find the right words. In the end she wrote, ‘I’m so very sorry for everything. Thank you for all you have done for us, you have no idea what it means. Please take care of yourself, Love Elaine.’ She folded the note and left it propped against the kettle, knowing that coffee would be Dan’s first port of call when he arrived home. She cleared up the mess Fern had made in the sink, and sprayed the room with air freshener. Then she went upstairs to pack her own things, pausing only to lay a hand on the pillow where Dan’s head usually lay.
Brodie stood in the lounge, watching the journalists who still lingered at the gate. ‘What are we going to do about them?’ she asked.
Elaine added her bag to Brodie’s pile, ‘We’re going to put the bags in the car and drive straight through them, but brace yourself, it’s not going to be pleasant. Ready?’
Brodie took a deep breath and nodded, and together they picked up their bags and headed for the front door.
As soon as they emerged the group at the gate surged forward shouting questions. ‘Elaine, how do you feel about discovering who you really are?’, ‘How do you feel about your mother’s suicide?’ (a question which made Brodie wince and grit her teeth as she stoically ignored the barrage of demands), ‘Tell us about the woman who abducted you Mandy, who was Jean Ellis?’. It went on and on, a cacophony of requests, which were nothing but a series of insults thinly disguised as public interest.
With grim determination Elaine got into the car and shut them out. Fastening her seat belt and checking that Brodie wore hers, she started the engine, engaged first gear and slowly drove forward, forcing the prying people out of the way as they shouted and snapped pictures of the fleeing pair. Some chased them to the end of the road.
‘What do they want from us?’ Brodie asked, perplexed and amazed at the determination of their pursuers.
‘Just a story, nothing more, just something juicy to entertain the public while they drink their tea and eat their cereals,’ Elaine said. She felt a rising bitterness and could taste bile. Whether it was from the damped headache, or a reaction to the press invasion she didn’t know. The feeling lasted until she turned onto the main road and was, at last, able to put her foot down.
*
Dan sat at his desk contemplating the pile of paperwork that he should be concentrating on. He had run to the yard, and the activity had gone some way to calming him down, but disgust at Fern Miller’s behaviour was still pulsing through his veins. Not only that, there was no sign of Bob and his secretary, Kate, had decided to give herself the day off. He didn’t blame her really, even though she had known he would be out for a few days he was pretty sure she had been inundated with inappropriate phone calls and had simply given up trying to be diplomatic. She had left him a note saying sorry and had at least organised the upcoming jobs. Which reminded him, Elaine was still minus a functioning kitchen and bathroom. Kate had left a Post-it telling him the police were finished at the house and that they were free to complete the work. Fat chance of that any time soon. He picked up the phone and rang Kate and to her obvious relief didn’t sack her, but gave her the rest of the week off. Then he rang all the clients who were waiting for work to be done and explained that there would be a slight delay, all but one was understanding, but that one hadn’t yet paid a deposit and would either have to suck it up or go elsewhere. Then he rang Bob, who sounded low and unhappy. Once Dan had extracted an apology from him he told him to come back to work, on a final warning. Apparently he was once more Bob’s ‘mate’. It was a decision Dan thought he might regret, but Bob was a good worker and the business couldn’t function effectively without him.
Having completed the office housekeeping he began to tidy his desk, thoughts of Elaine and Brodie intruding into his industry and damping his efforts. He gave up trying not to think about them when he came across the cheque that Elaine had written for the work he was doing for her. He should have banked it weeks ago, but he hadn’t. Like a prat he’d hung on to it because he liked her signature, it was precise and elegant, with curves and lines in all the right places and it brought his impression of her to the front of his mind. He shook his head at his own lunacy, but nevertheless blue-tacked it to his monitor rather than putting it in Kate’s tray for processing. Looking at her curling, cursive name made him smile and did more to release his anger than anything else had. Why was it that whenever he was away from her he could feel nothing but love and overwhelming affection? When he was in close proximity to her grief, her distress and her helplessness he felt like a useless idiot. He concluded that maybe it was because he was a useless idiot. A foolish man, who wanted to mend everything for her and the girl, but who didn’t have a clue where to start.
The thought brought him to Brodie. He was still waiting to find the right opportunity to broach her predicament to Elaine. As it was a situation that
involved time limits it would have to be soon. Baggy jumpers or not, the kid wouldn’t be able to hide the bump forever. The thought that Fern might be the one who had to deal with it made his blood run cold, what she’d done to her own child was bad enough let alone what she might force Brodie into. Brodie coping alone with a baby was a picture he didn’t want to contemplate, he had no idea how far along she was, but he was sure it was too late to broach the option of abortion. When he had been mucking about with her that night and she had stretched up he had noticed quite a bump. He was no expert on human gestation but he was confident that baby had been there a long while already. What worried him most was that it was clear she hadn’t told a soul. Hell, he didn’t even know if she understood what was going on herself, she was such a complex little thing. The fact that she probably hadn’t seen a doctor worried him too, so regardless of whatever else life had decided to chuck at them it would have to be tackled soon. Maybe he would wait until after Shirley’s funeral. As if there could ever be a right time.
The phone rang, pulling him out of his thoughts and back into the moment, he answered and gave the company name.
‘Mr Collier, Dan Collier?’
‘Yes, how can I help?’ he said picking up a pen in readiness to take down the details of the building work the caller might be contemplating.
‘My name is Toby Ash, I’m with the Herald and I wondered if you would be prepared to comment on where Mandy Miller has gone?’
It took a moment for the words to penetrate, ‘What do you mean “gone”?’
‘She left your residence about an hour ago in the company of Brodie Miller, we’ve been unable to establish her current whereabouts and were hoping you’d be able to enlighten us and add anything to her story you might feel to be relevant.’ The chirpy tone belied the man’s intent.
Dan stared at the phone.
‘Mr Collier? Are you still on the line?’
Dan stared at the phone.
‘Mr Collier, are you still there?’
Dan stared at the phone, then put it back to his ear. ‘Fuck off.’ It was all he could think of to say.
***
Jack Pearson pulled onto Dan’s drive, gratified to see that the press were now absent. They had clearly decided to follow their story, and it wasn’t the story of an unhappy man at the end of his rope trying to deal with a situation he couldn’t control.
He found Dan in the kitchen nursing a large glass of whisky in one hand, and holding Elaine’s note in the other.
‘Mind if I join you?’ Jack asked, pulling out a chair.
Dan pushed the bottle towards him and pointed to a cupboard. ‘Help yourself, glasses are in there.’ His voice was dull and spoke the volumes that his words hadn’t.
Jack fetched a glass and poured himself a finger of whisky, ‘Hmmm, Monkey Shoulder, an interesting choice,’ he said, savouring the smell of the golden liquid.
‘Might as well be meths to be honest,’ was Dan’s flat response.
Jack took a sip, ‘Tastes better than meths, but probably just as likely to rot your brain in large enough quantities. So, what went wrong?’
Dan threw his hands up, ‘Who knows? They just went. She left this.’ he said sliding the note across to Jack.
‘Short and sweet,’ Jack said. ‘And this was not long after Fern arrived shouting her mouth off?’
Dan nodded sullenly.
‘She’s a delight isn’t she? I remember her well, she wasn’t much better then and she was only Brodie’s age. She makes Brodie look like she had a private education polished off by finishing school.’ Jack said with a chuckle.
‘Yeah, not a woman it would be easy to like, though she looks like she’s had her fair share of men who’ve tried.’
Jack smirked, ‘You don’t have to look at the mantelpiece when you’re stoking the fire.’
Dan managed a wan smile in response to the joke, ‘Do you think they ran because of what she threatened, to get custody of Brodie?’
Jack shook his head, ‘Nah, the court would take the girl’s wishes into account, especially at her age. Fern wouldn’t stand a hope, besides Brodie’s sixteen soon. By the time it got to a hearing, she’d be able to make her own mind up. Elaine doesn’t strike me as a stupid woman, she’d work that out.’
‘So why?’ Dan said, his face creased with confusion and despair.
Jack rolled the whisky in its glass, watching the spirit cling to the sides and crawl down like thin oil, ‘I reckon she thought it was too much of a burden for you, she was being kind, taking herself and Brodie out of the loop so you could get on with your life.’ Mrs Pearson had been of great help with this conclusion when he had talked to her after receiving Dan’s plaintive phone call. He would never fathom the conundrum that was the female mind, no matter how hard he tried.
Dan groaned and lay his forehead on the table, covering his head with his hands. ‘Bloody women!’ was his muffled response to Jack’s explanation.
‘Aye, they’re not simple creatures,’ Jack concurred.
‘So where are they, where have they gone?’ Dan asked.
Jack puffed out his cheeks and exhaled, ‘I’ve called in a couple of favours and put a track on her bank records, but it will take a bit of time to get any information about where she might be using her card or drawing cash. Favours rarely take priority, and because she hasn’t committed a criminal act someone’s having to do it on the sly for me. So until I hear anything, or she decides to get in touch, we’re at a loss.’
‘What if I call it in, say Brodie is a missing person?’
‘You can’t, she’s nothing to do with you. Tony would have to do it and he’s up to his neck in stuff right now. Brodie is the least of his worries,’ Jack said with wry disapproval. ‘He doesn’t think Brodie’s whereabouts are of great concern, he figures if she’s with Elaine she’ll be OK.’
‘How about Fern? She’d call the police in,’ Dan suggested, scraping the barrel of options.
‘Yes, no doubt she would, and she would thrive on the attention, but it would sell Elaine out big time. Is that what you want?’
Dan nursed his head again, ‘No, of course not.’ It was said with an air of defeated desperation. ‘I love them Jack, I know it’s insane but they’re my girls. I hadn’t quite factored Brodie into the scheme, but she kind of gets under your skin, you know? Besides, they kind of come as a package deal now.’
Jack nodded, he understood. When men fell, they fell hard and fast into imperfect, unstable love. He’d seen it a million times and had picked up the pieces a million more.
‘You’ve just got to sit it out lad, it’s all you can do,’ Jack said, knowing his words offered much sense and little comfort.
Dan leaned back in his chair and Jack noticed that he looked rough, raw emotion was ageing and it often carved lines where there had been none before. Everything became dulled by heartache. Like acid, it stripped the polish from life.
‘Brodie’s pregnant,’ Dan said.
Jack paused, his glass halfway to his mouth, ‘What?’
‘I don’t think anyone else knows. She’s hiding it under those clothes she wears. That and the scars on her arms; it looks like she cuts herself too.’
‘Christ,’ Jack said, reeling from the revelation. He already knew about the self-harm. The first day she’d turned up he’d pulled some favours and got the number for her social worker. She shouldn’t have talked to him really, but confidentiality was as big a joke now as it had always been. The pregnancy was news, and unwelcome at that. ‘She didn’t strike me as the type. For getting herself up the duff I mean, the self-harm is no surprise.’
‘I know what you mean, for all her bluster she’s a shy kid really. Makes me wonder if it was something she consented to,’ Dan said, raising the very question that was filtering through Jack’s mind.
‘She’s underage, it’s a crime,’ he stated.
‘Only if she tells someone who the father is, and as we don’t know where she is she can’t tell us.�
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‘Does Elaine know, has she guessed?’
Dan shook his head, ‘I don’t think so, she didn’t say anything but it’s not something that can be hidden for long.’
‘You’d be surprised. She wouldn’t be the first kid who’s hidden it, given birth in a bathroom on her own and dumped the baby.’ Jack could remember at least two cases where that scenario had played out. One child had lived, the other hadn’t.
‘Jack, I can’t let that happen. I need to find them.’ Dan said with urgent desperation.
‘I’ll do my best to get a location, but it might take time,’ Jack said. He was thinking fondly of his garden and wishing to hell that the missus hadn’t opened the door to Brodie that day. What you didn’t know about, you couldn’t worry about. ‘You know, there’s a good chance they’ll pitch up at Shirley’s funeral,’ he said. He watched a spark of hope flicker across Dan’s careworn face.
‘Good point. I also figured Elaine will have to pitch up at her house sooner or later, so I’m going to finish the work there.’ Dan was suddenly reinvigorated by hope.
‘Well, there you go lad, it’s not all hopeless is it?’ Jack said, clinking his glass against Dan’s.
Chapter Seventeen
Generic hotel rooms always gave that sense that you could be anywhere in the world and wouldn’t know it unless you looked through the window at the outside. For Elaine it felt like a kind of suspended animation reminiscent of a time-loop. If she could only stay there, everything would stop moving and she could start to get a grip on what was happening to her. But teenagers cannot live on coffee and biscuits alone, Brodie was hungry and food existed in the real world where there were no locks or privacy.
Next-door to the hotel there was an equally generic pub-cum-eatery. Brodie seemed excited, not only had she never stayed in a hotel before, she had never eaten out above and beyond chicken shops or burger bars. That she could be so energised by such a simple thing, given what they were facing, both amused and dismayed Elaine. If all their problems could be solved by novelty they would be home and dry. Home, where was that? It wasn’t Shirley’s tacky, grimy flat and neither was it the grim mausoleum that had belonged to Jean. Elaine wasn’t short of money, but lurching from one hotel to another in a baseless daze wasn’t an option either, much as it appealed. Elaine was independent and free, but she was no Jack Reacher, she needed more than a toothbrush and a kick-ass attitude in order to survive.