‘We will wait to be called in to the room. They are just gathering the press.’ King looks nervous. None of us are used to going on television.
‘They are ready for you, sir.’ A sergeant pops his head into the room.
I am still holding tightly onto Danny ’s hand as we follow King into the conference room where rows of press sit facing a table. King sits down and arranges some papers in front of him, fiddling self-consciously with his uniform. Danny sits in the centre between us. He keeps hold of my hand under the table.
At the back of the room a row of cameras and bright lights point at us.
King clears his throat and addresses our audience. ‘Thank you all for coming.’ His voice sounds far away and his hands are shaking. I hope his nerves won’t make the press think badly of us. ‘I am going to make a statement and then the family want to say a few words. Please refrain from asking questions until we have spoken.’ He sorts the papers in front of him, busying his hands.
‘This in an appeal for information about missing eight-year-old Hope Bird, who disappeared on Saturday afternoon from the village of Ickleton. Hope left her house at approximately thirteen fifteen to go to the shop to buy a magazine. The shopkeeper has confirmed Hope went into the shop and purchased the item. That is the last time anyone has reported seeing Hope. She was wearing a green and white cotton top, blue denim short and pink plimsolls when she left the house. We are increasingly concerned about her whereabouts and ask anyone with information to contact Cambridgeshire police. A search of the surrounding area is underway and I would like to thank all the volunteers who have come forward to help with the search.’ I notice that the nerves King started off with have now disappeared. He is looking confidently down the lens of a camera and I admire his stoic resolve.
Before Danny has his turn to speak a reporter cuts in, holding a Dictaphone out towards us.
‘Tom Daler, from The Mirror. Inspector King, can you tell us more about the man you have arrested in regards to the case?’ Horrified both Danny and I turn to look at King. ‘And do you believe this was a sexually motivated abduction given that the suspect has a criminal record?’
King, who appears flustered, answers the question as calmly as he can. ‘I am afraid that your information is wrong. We have not made an arrest. A man is currently answering questions and helping us with our enquiries but that is all. Next question?’
‘But isn’t the man the owner of the shop where Hope was last seen alive? Sources have confirmed that Mr Amit Chadrad, is listed on the sex offenders register for having had sex with a minor. Is that not correct?’ The smug look on the face of the journalist makes me feel sick. How can he be enjoying this?
Before Danny has a chance to get to his feet and release his rage, we are both ushered out of the conference, the clicking of cameras drowned out by the barrage of questions thrown at us.
Hope
I’m so cold. My leg is stiff and sore. It feels like there is metal wrapped around my ankle but I still can’t see anything so I don’t know.
Then I think I hear a sound and I freeze tucking my legs up so my body is in a ball. I listen in the dark, waiting to hear it again. What was that sound? I was like the echo of a door banging shut. But I don’t hear it again. I’m still alone in the silence. The only sound I can hear now is my own breathing.
I keep trying to think about things that make me happy. Like playing on the swings with Eva. She’s my best friend. We are in the same class at school and we always do everything together. She’s really funny. I wish she was here. Mummy isn’t coming and I’ve called for Daddy but they can’t hear me. No one can. I’m locked in this dark place all on my own and I don’t understand why.
As well as the cold I’m really hungry and thirsty. My tummy aches and my mouth feels as if it’s full of glue. I’d even eat lettuce if I had to. That’s how hungry I am. But I’d rather eat pizza. It’s my favourite; the one with pepperoni on it. Then I’d have a big bowl of chocolate ice cream and some Coca-Cola.
That’s what I had on my birthday, at my party. Mummy said it was a special treat to have ice cream and coke. And even after eating all that I had another piece of chocolate cake. Daddy gave it to me with a wink and told me not to tell Gracie because she would be jealous. So I went into the Wendy house at the end of the garden and ate it quickly so she wouldn’t see me. That was a good day. Not like today.
I don’t like today or anything at the moment. It is bad.
Sitting in this black space I realise that my pants feel wet. I can’t remember when I last went to the loo so maybe I have made a mistake.
I’m embarrassed. Eight year olds don’t wet themselves. That’s what babies do. I don’t want to be a baby.
Moving my hand in the darkness I feel my front bottom and wince. It’s painful and sore and damp. When I take my hand I way I feel the wet stuff still on my fingers. Then I realise there is a smell but it’s not wee-wee. It smells like metal.
And now I feel really scared again. I’ve forgotten the happy memory of my birthday party. It’s gone. All there is now is pain.
How did I get here? Why does my front bottom hurt? Where are my family? I want my Mummy and Daddy. ‘Please can someone let me out of this place? I want to go home.’
Libby
‘Is it true, God damn it?’ Danny stood towering over Inspector King who suddenly appeared small.
‘He is on the register but I am not at liberty to discuss why.’
‘The fucking press are happy enough to talk about it. Is that how this is going to be from now on? We get our information second hand through some low-life journalist?’
I’m sitting in a chair holding my head in my hands as the world spins.
‘We are doing everything in our power to find Hope.’ The inspector is clearly as upset by the revelation as we are.
‘If he took her then that means you can find her now.’ I look up at the blank faces looking down at me.
‘I want to make it clear that we have not arrested Mr Chadrad.’
‘Why not?’ Danny growls. ‘If a sex offender is living on our doorstep and my daughter goes missing it doesn’t take a genius to link the two.’
‘We require evidence. There is none at this stage.’
‘Except he was the last person to see her alive.’ My comment hangs in the air.
‘This is pointless.’ Danny comes and puts his hand on my shoulder. ‘We are wasting time being here. Let’s go home.’
I stand up weakly and follow him out of the room without saying a word to anyone.
Once outside Cambridge police station I look up and down the busy road wondering how we are going to get home. On the park opposite I see a group of young boys being coached football.
‘I’m going to find that reporter.’ Danny speaks in a hushed voice. ‘He knows things that might help us find Hope. Here,’ he puts his hand in his pocket and removes his wallet, ‘take this cash and get a cab home.’
‘No,’ I push his hand away. ‘I’m coming with you.’ Realising that he is in no position to argue, he slips the money back into his wallet and nods. ‘So how do we find the reporter?’
‘He said he worked for The Mirror. We’ll call them.’
‘OK but let’s go home. I hate not being there at the moment. What if she turned up and we weren’t in?’
‘Yes, OK.’
We sit in the back of the silver Mercedes in silence. The black leather seats are hot and sticky against my skin. The smiley, round-faced African driver hums along to a song on the radio. Cold air blasts from the vents in the front filling the car and making the hairs on my skin stand up. The space smells of sickly sweet air freshener that hangs from the rear view mirror, swinging in time to the music.
After the dreadful pop song comes to an end the DJ introduces the news.
‘The search for Hope Bird continues today. The eight-year-old has now been missing for seventy-two hours. Police are searching the area around the village of Ickleton where the child was
last seen. A man is helping police with their enquiries...’
Both Danny and I freeze in the back of the car. It is so strange having our situation broadcast for the world to hear.
‘Animal.’ The driver mutters looking at us in his rear view mirror. ‘If I’s got me hands on dat man, well less just say he would not be hurtin’ dem kids egain. Dem paw parents. Days never find dem kids alive.’
Suddenly I want to be sick. I fumble with the switch on the door trying to open the window and get some fresh air. Danny, sensing my panic, puts his hand on my knees and gives it a gentle squeeze.
‘So do you folks know dem people? You’s going to Ickleton, right?’
Danny and I exchange a look.
‘No, we don’t know the family.’ Only I recognise the tremble in his voice.
‘Me’s want to go and lay some flowers for dat lil girl.’
‘She’s not dead.’ I speak through gritted teeth.
‘Just coz dey don’t find no body yet.’ The driver tuts and kisses his teeth.
I want to scream and shout and punch the back of his seat but I sit frozen. It is the first time I have heard anyone actually say it out loud. For these past few days I have willed myself not to entertain the idea but here it is in its inescapable ugliness.
Danny and I turn to look at each other. Both our eyes are fill with tears, the silent despair we feel is almost tangible.
‘She’s alive,’ he chants quietly.
‘Which number does yous want?’ The driver raises his eyebrows and starts to slow the car down as we turn into the village.
‘Drop us by the church please.’ Danny thinks on his feet.
‘Will do, boss.’
As the car takes the left hand turn onto Church Street we pass by Amit’s shop. It is closed and outside members of the press have gathered in their droves.
‘Dat must be de shop de animal owns.’ The driver scowls at the harmless building as we crawl slowly past.
‘Just here will be fine.’ I sense Danny ’s desperation to get out of the car as he removes a note from his wallet and thrusts it at the driver who is craning his neck to get good looks at the action. ‘Keep the change.’
We get out of the car and watch as the driver pulls away.
‘That was horrible.’ I bury my face in my husband’s shoulder and feel overcome by exhaustion. ‘When is this going to end?’
Danny puts his arms around me and clings on to me. ‘She’ll be home soon. They’ll find her. I’m sure of it.’ But we both know that he isn’t.
We walk the long way around the village and across the field into the back of our house so that we can avoid the journalists. The sun is high and beating down on our shoulders.
Around every corner, and as we pass every tree and shrub we stop to look for Hope. Maybe she is hiding after all. But there is no sign of her.
Once back in the house I pour us both a tall glass of cold lemonade.
‘I’ll ring The Mirror now.’
‘They are bound to want an interview, you know.’
‘Then we’ll give them one. Just as long as the reporter tells us everything he knows.’ Danny shrugs and removes his mobile phone from his green shorts pocket.
Less than two hours later Tom Daler is sitting on our sofa sipping a cup of tea. He is a distinctly unlikable man, with a thin face and little round glasses that sit on the end of his pointy nose. There is an air of self-righteousness he carries with him and a smug grin that is ever present. It is only the second time in my life that I have been in the same room as him and already I am wishing I wasn’t.
He puts his teacup down on the coffee table, leans back and crosses his legs.
‘I know this must be a difficult time for you...’
‘Cut the crap.’ It comes out before I’ve stopped to think what I’m saying. Tom sits up looking rather shocked. ‘You are after a story. You don’t give a damn about the agony my husband and I are going through. You want a story and we want the information you have. Let’s just get this over and done with. We don’t have time to play games.’
Out of the corner of my eye I see a small smirk pass over my husband’s face.
‘Yes, right.’ Tom shifts awkwardly on the sofa before adjusting his glasses. All at once he is no longer the cocky prick that walked in. ‘How much do you know about Amit Chadrad?’
‘He’s the local shopkeeper. He’s always been friendly enough. That’s about it. I never thought much about him until you made your statement at the press conference.’ Glaring at Tom still, I sit back in my chair and refasten my hair back into a shaggy bun.
Tom looks at me over his glasses. ‘Eleven years ago he was arrested for having sex with a minor. He was thirty-two at the time. The case did not go to court because the victim did not wish to make a statement. He was given a suspended sentence and put on the register.’
‘How does a grown man who has had sex with a child get away with it? He ended up on the register so they knew he was a danger. It doesn’t make sense.’ Danny rubs the sweat on his brow away with his fingers.
‘I cannot answer that. You would have to speak to the police.’
‘But they won’t tell us much,’ I groan.
‘You mean that they are withholding information from you that might tell you the whereabouts of your daughter?’ Tom’s eyes light up.
‘Is that the angle of your story then?’ Danny speaks through gritted teeth.
‘I am here to report the facts.’ His pointy nose sticks up towards the air.
‘Get out.’
‘What?’ The confusion on Tom’s face is priceless.
‘You heard me,’ Danny takes a step forward, ‘get out of my house.’
‘But the interview–’ Tom looks like a deer caught in the headlights.
‘I have nothing to say to you except get the fuck out of my house. You’ve told us nothing we didn’t know already. You know nothing.’
‘You’re a weasel.’ I get out of my chair and go and stand beside Danny. ‘My little girl is out there somewhere.’ Danny puts his arm around my shoulder for support.
‘I’m not going to say it again. Leave or you’ll regret it.’
‘I’m going.’ Tom picks up his iPad, slides it into his bag and then slips out of the room in a hurry.
The pair of us slump down into the sofa.
‘So what now?’ I turn to my husband hoping he might have the answer.
‘Honestly Lib, I don’t know.’
‘You don’t think Amit has her, do you?’
‘I don’t know. I wouldn’t have thought he was a nonce but I guess you can’t always tell.’
‘It must have come as a shock to Simran. You don’t suppose she knew her husband was a…’ I couldn’t bring myself to say the word.
‘Doubt it. No woman would stay with a man if they knew something like that.’ Danny closes his eyes for a second and rests his head on the back of the sofa. ‘This heat isn’t helping.’
‘But they said he hasn’t actually been arrested so maybe it’s not related.’
‘Maybe, but where there’s smoke…’ Danny stops and doesn’t finish the sentence.
Just then the phone rings cutting through the uneasy atmosphere in the room.
‘I’ll get it,’ I spring up and dash over to the bookcase the phone is resting on. ‘Hello?’ My heart is going at a thousand miles a second.
‘Lib?’
‘Mike.’ His unmistakable Australian accent echoes down the phone and my heart sinks.
‘Any news?’
‘No. Still nothing.’
‘I was helping with the search this morning but they called it off so people could get some lunch. It’s so bloody hot. It’s like being back in Oz.’
There is a long pause. I have nothing to say.
‘Is it a bad time to call? Just that Eva is awful worried.’ Eva, Mike’s daughter, is Hope’s best friend. Father and daughter moved into the village four years ago after his wife died battling cancer. Eva joined
Hope’s school and within no time the two children were as thick as thieves. Mike had met Emma, his wife, when she was travelling after university and the couple had moved back to England. Two years after Eva was born, Emma was diagnosed with bone cancer. She fought the disease bravely for nearly two years before it got the better of her. I never met her but the way Mike talked about her charitable escapades suggested to me that she had been a lovely woman. They had been living in the large village of Linton, ten miles away from Ickleton, when Emma died and Mike decided it would be best for Eva if they moved to a new house. He couldn’t stand living with the painful memories the house held.
‘I’m sure she is. She must be so frightened.’ I wonder if I am talking about Eva or Hope.
‘Well, you know, if there’s anything I can do, you just let me know.’
‘Thanks Mike. You’re a good man.’
‘Any time. See you.’ The line goes dead.
‘What did he want?’ Danny asks.
‘Nothing really. Just checking up on us I think.’
‘He’s a good bloke. That little girl is a credit to him. How he managed to bring her up after her mother died is a mystery to me. I’d fall apart if anything ever happened to you.’
‘Or Hope.’ Our eyes meet.
‘Right,’ he stands up, ‘I’m going to have a cold shower and then I’ll go and join the search again.’
‘You look so tired.’ I step towards him.
‘I’m not going to stop.’
‘Let me come with you.’
‘Why? It’s hot and the press are still hanging around. Just stay here and wait for news.’
‘I’m going mad being in this house. I need to do something proactive.’
‘One of us has to stay here in case she comes home.’ We both know that is unlikely but neither of us say it. ‘And Kerry will be around. So you won’t be alone.’
‘Maybe I’d rather be alone.’
‘Don’t pick a fight now.’
‘I’m not.’ He’s right, of course, but I’m not going to admit it.
‘Fine. I’m going for that shower.’
Frailty: a haunting psychological page-turner Page 5