Disappeared: MANTEQUERO BOOK 2

by Jenny Twist

  “Well, do you think we’ve got enough?”

  “What?” For a moment Alison couldn’t imagine what Heather was talking about.

  “Enough to go to the police.”

  Alison sighed. “Probably not. But I think we should report it anyway. Even if we just get laughed at. At least we’ll have registered it.”

  ****

  The policeman behind the desk listened politely to what they had to say and then said, “But I don’t know what you want us to do. I mean, she’s a grown woman, isn’t she? If she decides not to come back from holiday there’s not a lot we can do about it, is there?”

  “But that’s just it,” Alison said, tears of frustration in her eyes, “She didn’t decide. Something has happened to her.”

  “With all due respect, Miss -”

  Alison sighed. Any sentence beginning with all due respect was bound to be the opposite.

  “-you don’t know that and we can’t go starting a police investigation because some young woman-”

  “Look,” Alison interrupted, “we do know that. It’s entirely out of character for her to let anyone down. She’s a school teacher for God’s sake. Teachers can’t just up sticks when they feel like it. If she had decided not to return she would have let people know. She would have come back to work her notice. SHE WOULD NOT HAVE JUST DISAPPEARED!” She realised she was shouting and her face was hot.

  “And what about the information from my friend in Spain,” Heather added, in an ice-cold voice. “And the fact that the house she stayed in has been taken off the books. And the car being returned on the wrong day, probably by someone else. There’s enough there to warrant further investigation, surely?”

  The policeman sighed and cast his eyes heavenwards. Alison wanted to hit him.

  “Look, if you insist, you can fill in a missing person report, but I doubt very much whether there’s very much we can do.”

  “Of course there is,” Alison muttered, as she pulled the form towards her. “You can get the Spanish police involved. Interpol even.”

  Heather nudged her, the gesture clearly conveying there was no point.

  Grumbling, Alison began to fill in the form.

  ****

  The next day she felt oddly adrift. She seemed to have done all she could and was now left with nothing to do but wait. She wasn’t very good at waiting.

  When she left at four o’clock, for the first time that week without some urgent Miss Blacker-related task, she saw Patsy once again waiting by the gate. She cast her mind back and had the distinct impression that the child had been there every single day, but this was the first time she had had time to stop and talk to her.

  “Patsy?” The child looked up, her eyes were puffy and red-rimmed as if she’d been doing a lot of crying recently. “Oh, hello, Miss Metcalfe.” She attempted a not very convincing smile.

  Alison bent down to get to her level. “Are you OK? Are you waiting for your mummy?”

  Ignoring the question, Patsy suddenly burst into tears. “She’s not coming back, is she? My Auntie June. She’s never coming back and it’s all Mummy’s fault.”

  “What?”

  “My Mummy. She upset my Auntie June so much that she doesn’t want to come back – ever.”

  “What did your mummy do?”

  Patsy hiccupped. “It was at my birthday party. Everything was going really well until Mummy said that Granny was getting a bit frail and it was time Auntie June moved in to look after her. And Auntie June said, ‘Out of the question,’ and said she was going away for Christmas with a friend and then she flounced out.” Patsy managed a half-hearted smile. “Mummy and my other aunties just sat and stared with their mouths open.” The smile vanished. “And then they spent hours saying horrible things about Auntie June. It made me feel sick.”

  Alison put down her briefcase and sat on the wall next to Patsy. “So your mummy expects Auntie June to move in with your granny and look after her full-time?”

  Patsy nodded. “Oh yes, she had it all arranged. Auntie June’s the only one who isn’t married, you see. It would be very convenient for the rest of them if she did it. Nobody else would have to make an effort.” She looked up at the sky, squinting as if the watery winter sun was too bright. “Sometimes I hate my Mummy.”

  “You mustn’t say that. I’m sure she’s just trying to do what’s best for everyone.”

  “Everyone except Auntie June,” Patsy muttered darkly.

  “Anyway,” Alison said with a brightness that seemed brittle, even to her, “are you waiting for her to pick you up?”

  “Yes, but she’s probably forgotten again.”

  “What?” Alison was aghast.

  “Auntie June usually takes me home, you see. We go to her house for tea and then she drops me off at home after.” She began to sob again. “Of course, on Monday it wasn’t Mummy’s fault. She didn’t know Auntie June hadn’t come back.”

  “But-” Alison began, then stopped herself. Patsy was looking at her narrowly. “-er, I just thought she might have checked.” She must have known. Miss Wetherspoon rang her.

  “You know something, don’t you?”

  The child was too clever by half. “Her next-door neighbour rang your mummy to say your Auntie June hadn’t returned and ask if she knew why.”

  “Oh, Mummy wouldn’t have taken any notice of that,” Patsy said. “She only believes things that suit her.”

  Good God, Alison thought. The poor child.

  “Look, would you like me to take you home? We could ring your mummy and tell her.” Patsy broke into a beaming smile. “Would you? I’d love that. I don’t like walking back on my own. I’m a bit worried about the paedophiles.”

  Taken aback by the child’s precocious vocabulary, Alison hid her amusement and bent down for her briefcase to extract her phone. And yes, there was the piece of paper on which she’d made a note of Miss Wetherspoon’s number, Ruth’s and that of the vet.

  ****

  Ruth Owen was nothing like Alison had imagined. She came to the door looking flustered but none-the-less perfectly-groomed and manicured, her clothes hanging elegantly on her slender form, her hair cut in the latest style.

  “Oh thank you, so much, I don’t know what I’d have done if you hadn’t rung. I thought my friend was picking her up.”

  I bet you did, thought Alison.

  “Come in, Sweetie. I’ll make your tea in a minute.”

  Patsy went in and started up the stairs, casting a look over her shoulder that said volumes.

  “Well, right, I’ll be off then.” Half-way down the path, Alison hesitated and looked back. Ruth Owen was still standing in the doorway smiling her vacuous smile.

  “I could drop her off every night, if you like. It’s on my way home anyway.”

  “Oh, would you?” Ruth’s smile became a tad more genuine. “I’d be so grateful.” She waved her hands about in a brief, meaningless gesture. “I’m so busy, you know, what with . . .”

  She tailed off, aware that Alison wasn’t really listening.

  “Well, thank you.” And she went inside and closed the door.

  I could be anybody, Alison thought. She didn’t ask for any identification. She’s just entrusted her child to a complete stranger! What a waste of space!

  ****

  “What I don’t understand is why she didn’t send me another postcard, just to tell me she wasn’t coming back.”

  Alison and Patsy were sitting on the wall by the school gate, Patsy idly swinging her legs against the brick-work.

  “Maybe she was ashamed.” Alison dived into her briefcase and fetched out her emergency bar of chocolate. This seemed as good an emergency as any. “Here, have half.”

  “Thank you.” Patsy began eating the chocolate with a singleness of purpose that suggested that Alison had successfully diverted her attention. Then, “Why should she be ashamed? Nobody’s going to blame her.”

  “She might blame herself,” Alison said. “She might think she wasn
’t brave enough to deal with it. That she should have stayed for your sake. Oh, I don’t know. Maybe she thought it really was her job to look after your granny.”

  “Yes, I suppose so,” Patsy said, finishing the last of the chocolate and carefully inspecting the wrapper and her fingers for any bits she may have missed. “I’d just have liked to have known, though. If I just knew what had happened and where she was so I could write to her.”

  “Will your mummy mind if you’re a little bit late?” Alison said, standing up and bending for her briefcase.

  “I doubt if she’d even notice.” Alison was captivated by the child’s adult turn of phrase. Such a sweetie!

  “Then let’s go to my place and play with Jessica.”

  Patsy’s face lit up in a beaming smile. “You’ve got Jessica? I was so worried about her being on her own.”

  “Sorry, I should have told you before. I brought her home on Monday. She was so lonely in the cottage.” Alison permitted herself a small smile. “Your Auntie June’s going to have to fight for her when she gets back. None of us want to give her up.”

  Patsy grinned and jumped down from the wall.

  III

  “I want to go and see for myself.” Alison leant forward across the counter. “Can you book me a holiday in the same place?”

  Heather looked worried. “You’re a teacher. You can’t just go haring off to Spain. You’ll get the sack!”

  Alison smiled. “I didn’t mean straight away. Half term.”

  Heather raised her eyebrows, “I thought it was urgent.”

  “I thought so too, but I can’t risk my job. And anyway, I don’t think it’s so urgent anymore.”

  Heather continued to look questioningly at her.

  “She had a reason.” Alison went on. “A reason for not coming back. It seems her sisters,” she said the word through gritted teeth, “had decided that she was going to become full-time carer for their mother. That’s why she went to Spain in the first place – to avoid committing herself for Christmas. I can well imagine that at the last minute, when it was time to go home, she just baulked and decided to stay.”

  “Not quite Shirley Valentine,” Heather murmured, “but not far off. When do you want to go then?”

  Alison got out her school diary. “Half term’s from the tenth to the nineteenth.”

  “Inclusive?”

  “No, sorry. We go back on the nineteenth. So, as much as I can get of the nine days.”

  Heather looked at her screen and started tapping on her keyboard. “I see no reason why you couldn’t have the whole nine days,” she said. “Leave it with me and I’ll put a package together.”

  “How much is it going to cost?” Alison asked, thinking of her precious savings.

  “Not a lot. Not in February.” Heather paused. “Can you drive?”

  “Yes, I passed my test last year. My dad bought me lessons for my birthday and I passed first time,” she said, with ill-concealed pride.

  Heather smiled at her. “Well done. It took me three goes. So, let’s see – you’ve had your licence for a year?”

  Alison stirred uncomfortably on the plastic chair. “Well, about eight months actually.”

  “And how old are you?”

  “Twenty-three.”

  “I think the only thing that’s likely to be expensive is the hire car. A lot of companies won’t rent to drivers under the age of twenty-five because the insurance is so high. But I’ll ring round and see what I can do. Can you -”

  “Come back after work?” Alison finished for her. “Of course.”

  She picked up her briefcase and began to walk out.

  “Alison?”

  She turned back.

  “Are you sure about this? There’s still all the other stuff we were worried about. It might be dangerous.”

  Alison swallowed. She was actually feeling rather nervous about the whole thing, but she felt she couldn’t get on with her life until she’d found out what had happened to Miss Blacker. And then there was the child, Patsy, to consider. She had promised her she would do her best to find out and she could see no other way to do it. “Yes,” she said. “I’m sure.”

  ****

  “OK,” Heather pushed a print-out across the counter. “Here you are. Flight out tenth of February, leaving Gatwick at ten-oh-five, arriving Malaga thirteen fifty-five.

  Car hire from Cargest- they’re the only ones who’ll accept a driver under 25. Couldn’t get the same house, of course. In fact, when I spoke to Sofia, she said all the houses in the village had been withdrawn, but then she came back with a new one - owned by an Englishwoman. It’s only two streets away from where June stayed. Bigger place, though - two bedrooms. And centrally-heated. She says she’s not been to check it out yet, but I can make a provisional booking and she’ll confirm when she’s been up to see it. Whole thing about six hundred pounds.”

  Alison winced. It was more than she’d spent on holidays in her whole life.

  Heather looked embarrassed. “I can get a cheaper flight if you don’t mind leaving at seven in the morning. But we’re only looking at about fifteen quid difference. The problem is the car hire. It’s nearly twice as much as I could get it from Paco Sanchez, but he won’t take under 25 drivers. And then the house. The only one available is much bigger than you need and a very high spec.”

  Alison stared miserably at the figures. She had the money, but it would take almost all her savings. Did she care that much about finding out what happened?

  “I’ve got an alternative, though, if you’d consider it.”

  Alison looked up eagerly.

  “We could go together. I’m over twenty-five, with ten years’ driving experience. We could share car hire and the rent. And –” here she paused for effect. “I get everything at a discount anyway.”

  “How much?” Alison asked, actually rather liking the idea of going with Heather. She had been worried about going on her own.

  Heather took a deep breath, “Two hundred and fifteen pounds,”

  “Good grief! It’s unbelievable! But are you sure you want to do this?”

  “She’s my friend too,” Heather said. “I care about what happened to her. But I couldn’t find out anything on my own. I don’t speak Spanish.”

  ****

  The hire car wound its way up the narrow mountain road and Alison sat in a state of terror, occasionally looking past Heather at the terrifying drop below. There were barriers along the road, but they were placed haphazardly and it seemed mandatory that there was never a barrier at a particularly dangerous place – a steep bend, for instance, where if you were distracted for a second you could go straight ahead and plunge into the abyss.

  Heather seemed entirely unaffected by this and chatted away, apparently unaware that Alison’s responses were monosyllabic or non-existent.

  By the time they reached Orgiva, Alison was a gibbering wreck. She’d never been afraid of heights before, but now, as if to make up for all those carefree years, fear had her firmly in its grip. She couldn’t get out of the car. Her legs simply refused to respond. Heather, finally aware that her passenger was not behaving as expected, came round to her side of the car and hauled her out.

  “Right,” she said, “we’ll soon deal with this. Sit here.” And she plonked Alison at a café table and marched into the bar. Alison sat at the table, staring out at the mountains, feeling oddly disorientated.

  A few moments later Heather returned with two large glasses. “Here, drink this,” she said, placing one in Alison’s hand. Alison didn’t even enquire what was in the glass, but drank it all down in one gulp, then handed the empty glass to Heather. “Right,” said Heather, who hadn’t even tasted her own drink, and marched back into the bar.

  Alison was rather more circumspect with the second glass and only drank half before demanding to know what it was.

  “Gin and tonic,” said Heather.

  “What, in a glass that size?” Alison looked at her glass, which was surel
y not much smaller than a half pint pot.

  “Well, there’s a lot of ice and tonic.”

  “Yeah, right,” said Alison, knocking back the rest.

  There was a tall, thin man making his way up the street and Heather stood up to wave enthusiastically in his direction. “Must be Johan,” she said to Alison. “He doesn’t look at all Spanish, does he?”

  “Haven’t you met him before?” asked Alison, surprised.

  “No. I’ve just dealt with him on the phone and emails, but I feel like I’ve known him all my life.”

  The man’s face broke into a broad grin when he saw them, and he quickened his pace. Heather was right, he didn’t look Spanish. His hair was greying, but had clearly once been fair, and there was an entirely un-Spanish purposefulness to his stride.

  “Hello,” he said, grabbing Heather by the shoulders and kissing her on both cheeks. “So, we meet at last. And this,” he turned to smile at Alison, “must be your schoolteacher friend.” Alison found herself completely unable to stand and so remained seated helplessly as he bent over and kissed her.

  “Sorry about Alison,” Heather said. “She suddenly discovered she was afraid of heights and I had to give her a bit of Dutch courage.” She winked at Johan. “If you’ll excuse the phrase.”

  She looked back at her friend. “I think I may have overdone it a bit.”

  “Nonsense,” said Johan. “The more the better. Then she won’t notice the heights on the way up to Caserones.” He leant over and whispered. “The road up there is much worse.”

  Heather giggled like a schoolgirl. “So, what can I get you?”

  “I think I’d better just have a glass of lemonade, since I’m driving. Alison’s already had two double gins, so maybe she’d better have the same.”

  Johan grinned. “How about we compromise and make it two tinto de veranos?”