‘I’ll do that.’ Jess turned hastily, wishing that the ground would just open up and swallow her. One thing was for sure, Mel would feel the length of her tongue when she did catch up with her. She scuttled away like a scalded cat and once outside she climbed into the car and slammed the door resoundingly. Jo had been humming merrily along to Britney Spears on the car radio but she fell silent after one glance at her mother’s face. That look usually meant trouble.
‘Where’s Mel?’ she asked tentatively.
‘Ah, now that seems to be the leading question at the moment,’ Jess ground out as she jammed the car into gear and roared away from the kerb. ‘I should think by now she’s either slunk into her room at home or she’s holed up at a friend’s house somewhere.’
Jo frowned. ‘But Mel doesn’t have any friends.’ One more glance at her mother’s set face made her clamp her mouth shut and she kept it that way for the rest of the drive home, glad that she wasn’t in Mel’s shoes right now.
Chapter Ten
‘Mel, where are you?’ Jess roared as she stormed into the kitchen a short time later and flung her bag onto the table.
Jo wisely kept her head down as she hurried over to Alfie’s basket to fuss him. It was not often that her mum lost her temper but on the rare occasions when she did, Jo had learned to keep well out of her way until she calmed down.
Jess thundered up the stairs then marched along the landing and flung Mel’s bedroom door open ready to blow her top, but the words died on her lips when she was confronted with an empty room. It was just as Mel had left it that morning. The duvet was kicked to the end of the bed and various items of clothing and CDs were scattered across the floor. Sighing heavily, Jess closed the door again before going back downstairs. No doubt Mel would turn up soon and the little madam would have some explaining to do when she did decide to put in an appearance.
The second she set foot back in the kitchen, Jo scooted out of the door with Alfie and Jess felt a pang of guilt. I must calm down, it isn’t Jo’s fault, she told herself and then set about preparing the dinner. Jo came back in half an hour later to the smell of bubbling cabbage and pork chops cooking under the grill. She immediately began to set the table to help her mum, who was obviously still very upset.
Some time later they ate their meal, then Jess covered Mel and Simon’s portions with kitchen foil. They could be microwaved later when they came in.
As the hand of the clock crept towards six o’clock, Jess’s anger was replaced by a niggling feeling of fear. Mel hadn’t even bothered to phone to tell her where she was, and now for the first time Jess began to wonder if she was safe.
By the time Simon arrived home shortly before seven she was chewing her nails and smoking like a chimney, which instantly told him that something was wrong. Jess had given up months ago.
‘What’s up?’ he asked.
‘It’s Mel. I dropped her off at school today but she never went in according to her teacher and she still isn’t home.’
He could feel the tension in the air but shrugged. ‘She’s probably bunked off with one of her mates.’
Jess shook her head. ‘You know she’s hardly made any friends since we moved here and she hasn’t even phoned. I can’t reach her on her mobile either. It just keeps going to the answer machine. I’ve hardly been able to pry her out of the house just lately, so why would she suddenly do this?’ As she was speaking she was putting his meal into the microwave.
‘Didn’t you ever bunk off when you were her age?’ Simon asked, washing his hands before sitting at the table.
‘Well, yes I did, but I wasn’t the same temperament as Mel,’ she told him, grinding her cigarette out in an ashtray. ‘It’s just so out of character for her to do something like this. Should I call the police?’
‘No!’ Simon said hastily. ‘They’d laugh you under the table if you did. They must spend half their time looking for kids Mel’s age who pull this stunt. Just wait a while longer. She’ll be back when she gets hungry. She isn’t stupid and she knows where her bread’s buttered.’
As the microwave began to beep, Jess carried his meal to him and switched on the news on the small portable television set they kept in the kitchen. She supposed that Simon was right, but she still couldn’t help worrying.
As soon as Simon had finished eating he shot away upstairs to get changed for his darts match.
‘Surely you’re not still going out tonight with Mel missing,’ Jess said accusingly when he reappeared some short time later all showered and changed. His hair was still damp and he looked so handsome that she could understand why women were attracted to him like a magnet.
‘Of course I am. You know I always drop Beth off at the youth club and I wouldn’t want to let her down. The poor kid goes out little enough as it is. And anyway, by the time I get home Mel will be back with her tail between her legs. I bet she won’t think of doing this again when I’ve finished with her.’
Jess sulkily stacked the dirty pots in the dishwasher until she heard the door close behind him. Jo was in the small lounge watching Emmerdale Farm, so Mel left her to it as she began to wander despondently from room to room. It suddenly struck her how few of the rooms they actually used. The drawing room looked very grand now with its expensive wallpaper and its grand swags and tails, but they’d soon discovered it was far too large for them unless they had company, and so they chose to sit in the small cosy room that adjoined the kitchen for the majority of the time. Perhaps this house is too big for us, she thought for the first time, but then she pushed the thought away. Once the rest of the house was finished she would start her B and B business and then perhaps all the rooms would be used as they should be.
Feeling at a loose end, Jess headed for her bedroom where she settled down to read the next extract from Martha’s journal. At least it would give her something to keep her occupied until Mel decided to put in an appearance.
1 September
The Master has gone away to visit friends for a whole week so today we all went for a stroll in the meadow and Bertie did a sketch of me while I was picking some wild flowers. Bertie can draw beautifully and Granny often says he could have been an artist, had he been born into the gentry.
‘I’m tellin’ yer, things are goin’ from bad to worse since the Master sold them fields off to Farmer Codd.’
Hal Tolley was taking a tea break in the kitchen with Granny Reid, and as he spoke, his expression was grim. ‘He called into the cottage to see us yesterday an’ told us that now he only ’as two acres left, it’s doubtful whether or not there’ll be enough work left fer me to do.’
‘But what’ll ’appen if he turns you an’ yer brood out o’ the cottage?’ Granny Reid asked worriedly.
Hal shrugged. ‘I ain’t even dared to think on it yet,’ he said gruffly. ‘It seems the work’ouse would be the safest option, but I’d rather live in a hovel an’ take any job I could, afore I’d resort to me family goin’ there, especially now we’ve discovered Phoebe is expectin’ again.’
‘Eeh, it makes yer wonder where it’s all goin’ to end,’ Granny muttered as she lifted her heavy mug of steaming tea. ‘Word has it that the mill is in trouble an’ all.’
‘’T’wouldn’t surprise me,’ Hal rejoined. ‘Money slips through that one’s hands like water, an’ it’ll be all of us that suffer if he don’t pull his reins in soon. But anyway, I’d best get on while I still ’ave a job, eh? Happen I’ll be out o’ one soon enough an’ I don’t wanna give his lordship an excuse to set me on the road. Thanks fer the tea, lass, it were right welcome.’
Granny Reid watched Hal walk from the cottage, his shoulders stooped with worry. ‘Poor bugger,’ she sighed, as much to herself as to Martha, who was rolling pastry at the table.
‘Try not to worry too much,’ the girl told her with all the optimism of youth. ‘Perhaps things ain’t as bad as we all fear?’
‘Huh!’ Granny shook her head before disappearing off into the large walk-in pantry to try and f
ind something to serve for dinner as Martha and Grace exchanged worried glances. It seemed that things were indeed going from bad to worse, and they both silently wondered where it might end.
Later that afternoon, as Martha was going to feed the last remaining pig in the sty, a sound caught her ear. It was coming from the side of the Dutch Barn so, lifting her skirts, she tiptoed towards it. When she turned the corner she was confronted by Grace, who was leaning over being violently sick into the midden.
‘Grace, whatever’s wrong?’ she asked as she rushed to her sister’s side but Grace held her hand up as if to ward her off.
‘It’s nothin’,’ she gasped. ‘You just get about yer chores an’ don’t fret, eh.’ With that she straightened up and hurried away.
Martha quickly fed the pig and fled back to the kitchen to inform Granny, ‘I just caught our Grace bein’ really sick behind the Dutch Barn.’
Granny rounded on her, waggling a carving knife at her. She seemed about to scold the girl, but then her shoulders sagged and she said, ‘I reckon it’s quite normal fer women in the family way to be sick. I may as well tell yer now as let yer hear it from someone else.’
‘In the family way . . . Yer mean our Grace is havin’ a baby?’ Martha couldn’t disguise the shock and delight in her voice although Granny certainly didn’t look any too happy about it.
‘Aye she is, but I don’t want yer goin’ round broadcastin’ it, an’ don’t get talkin’ to Bertie about it neither.’
Martha looked confused. Grace and Bertie obviously loved each and they were married, so why shouldn’t they have a baby and be happy about it? It was a natural progression, after all.
‘I wonder if Phoebe’s baby will come before Grace’s,’ Martha said musingly as she tied a large hessian apron about her slender waist.
‘I’ve told you, ain’t I?’ Granny said sharply. ‘Least said about it fer now the better, so button yer lip, me girl.’
Martha sighed as she crossed to the sink to attack the pile of washing-up there. She felt peeved at the way her granny had spoken to her but she couldn’t stay miserable for long. The previous evening, just before retiring to bed, she had slipped out to meet Jimmy, and they had wandered along by the River Anker hand-in-hand. It had rained ceaselessly for the last two weeks and the stone bridge was underwater, while the river had burst its banks – but nothing could have spoiled the time she spent with him. She knew that Granny would not have approved of her sneaking off to meet him, but how else was she to see him? It was clear that Granny wasn’t going to give her permission to walk out with him and Martha could not envisage not spending time with him now. He had kissed her when they parted and she had felt as if a million butterflies were fluttering about inside her stomach. On top of that the Master would be going away tomorrow to visit friends in Northamptonshire for a whole week and she could hardly wait to see the back of him. Whenever he wasn’t there it was as if a great black cloud had lifted from over the house and Martha knew that the rest of her family were looking forward to him going too. Humming softly to herself, she got on with her chores.
The following afternoon when the Master had departed, they all went for a walk in the meadow. The rain had finally stopped and the sun was riding high in a cloudless blue sky. Grace and Granny sat on the grass, enjoying the feel of the sun on their faces whilst Bertie sketched Martha picking wild flowers for the kitchen windowsill.
When the sketch was done, Martha was amazed at how good it was. ‘I reckon you should have a go at sellin’ some of your pictures in the market place,’ she told him.
‘Do you really think folks hereabouts would have money to waste on sketches in these hard times?’ Bertie pointed out sensibly, and Martha supposed he was right. With jobs so hard to come by, folks thought they were lucky if they could put food in their bellies. But oh, it did seem such an awful waste of his talent.
Jess reluctantly closed the journal. She would have liked to read on, but her thoughts were back on Mel’s whereabouts. Glancing at the clock she saw that it was approaching nine o’clock and she got off the bed, pausing only to glance at the sketches on her bedroom wall. The girl picking wild flowers must be the sketch that Martha had written of in her journal – the one that Bertie had done. There was no doubt that he had been very talented.
As she walked along the landing she heard someone in the shower and guessed that this would be Jo. Perhaps when she got downstairs Mel would be home and she could stop worrying. On this hopeful thought she hurried down the stairs.
The kitchen was deserted apart from Alfie and again a stab of fear rippled through her. It was almost dark outside now and feeling the need to do something useful she raced back to Mel’s bedroom and began to rifle through the untidy drawers until she found her daughter’s address book.
Back downstairs she dialled the number of Mel’s mobile phone, chewing on her lip when she reached the answerphone again. ‘This is Mum, would you please phone home and let me know where you are when you get this message?’ she said, close to tears.
She then began to systematically work through the numbers in the book until eventually there was no one else she could think of to ring. It seemed that no one had seen her all day and now Jess was convinced that something was badly wrong. She checked that Jo was safely tucked up in bed, and after explaining that she was just popping to Laura’s to see if Mel was there she let herself out into the dark courtyard and hurried down the drive.
When she reached Blue Brick Cottage she pounded on the back door and Laura opened it with a worried expression on her face. ‘What is it? Has something happened to Beth?’
‘No, Beth is fine,’ Jess assured her. ‘I should think Simon will be picking her up from the youth club any time now. It’s Mel I’m concerned about. May I come in?’
‘Of course you can.’ Laura took her elbow and steered her into the small kitchen. ‘Now what’s wrong?’ she questioned.
Jess wearily rubbed her brow where a headache was starting to throb. ‘It’s Mel. She hasn’t come home.’
The kitchen here was probably a quarter of the size of the one at Stonebridge House, but what it lacked in size it made up for in oldeworlde charm, Jess thought dazedly. Oak beams crisscrossed the ceiling and a cheery fire was blazing in an inglenook fireplace, the flames bouncing off a selection of highly polished pans that were suspended from the thick beam above it. The floor was covered in red quarry tiles which lent a warm feel to the room, and against one wall was a huge old dresser laden with Laura’s prized china collection.
‘She didn’t go to school today either, so where do you think she could be?’ Jess asked despondently.
Not wishing to alarm her neighbour more than she already was, Laura tactfully said, ‘She’s probably just gone round to a mate’s house and lost track of time.’
Jess fiddled with the buttons on her coat. ‘No, she hasn’t. I’ve phoned every single number in her address book and no one has seen her. I know she’s been moody lately but this isn’t like her, Laura. In fact I’ve never known her to do this before. Do you think I should call the police?’
‘Why don’t you give her another hour or so?’ Laura said gently. ‘It’s still quite early really, and I’m sure she’s fine wherever she is.’ As she swept a pile of paperwork aside to place a cup of tea in front of Jess she saw the latter glance at it curiously and she smiled self-consciously as she explained. ‘I’m tracing my family tree. It’s a hobby of mine and quite fascinating when you get into it. Den tends to go to bed quite early so he can be up with the lark in the morning, so I need something to keep me occupied. I’m also tracing the Fentons’ family tree too.’
‘Really?’ Jess would have been very interested under other circumstances, but for now it was hard to think of anything except her missing daughter.
‘Look, I know you must be worried sick,’ Laura said kindly as she rubbed Jess’s shoulder. ‘But I’ll bet you any money she’ll turn up safe and sound within the next couple of hours and you’ll wonder
what you were worrying about. That’s teenagers, I’m afraid. Even my Beth is worrying me at present, as Simon has probably told you. A boy who goes to the same youth club as her has taken a real shine to her and she hasn’t been there the last couple of times your Simon has gone to pick her up. He’s had to go looking for her, bless him.’
‘Yes, he did mention something about it,’ Jess said as she sipped at her tea and now Laura went on, ‘The trouble is, my Beth is quite stunning to look at. Very often no one realises that there is anything different about her until she speaks. But she’s so naïve and vulnerable. I worry that someone could take advantage of her. Between you and me, I asked Den if perhaps we shouldn’t stop her going but he says it wouldn’t be fair to deprive her of her only night out. I sometimes wish that I could just lock her away or wrap her up in cotton wool and keep her safe, but we can’t do that with our kids, can we?’
‘No, I don’t suppose we can.’ Jess suddenly felt very foolish. Laura was right. Mel would probably be home by the time she got back to the house full of excuses and now she just wanted to be there.
‘Look, forgive me but I think I’d better get home.’ Scraping her chair across the quarry tiles she rose, leaving her tea virtually untouched. ‘Thanks for the advice, Laura. I’m probably just worrying for nothing. Goodnight.’
‘Goodnight, love. Let me know how things are in the morning, won’t you?’
Jess nodded as Laura let her out into the biting wind and then pulling up her collar she set off up the long winding drive to her home, jumping as the trees bent towards her in the wind. They looked as if they were involved in some sort of macabre dance and by the time she reached the courtyard her heart was thudding painfully in her chest.
‘Mel!’ she cried the second she set foot in the kitchen, but only silence greeted her and she settled down miserably to wait. It seemed that was all she could do for now.
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