Someone Like me

by Lesley Cheetham

  Jas xxx

  Ps Quit with the matchmaking, or else….

  My time was up now so I logged off and went outside into the fresh air. Tourists strolled slowly down the cobbled street, different languages floating up into the air. I turned right and made my way back to the fountain. Malika was lounging against the wall, gazing into space, her brow furrowed in concentration. I went up and tapped her on the arm, making her jump.

  ‘Sorry,’ I said. She kissed me on both cheeks, then gestured towards the river.

  ‘Let’s go this way.’ She linked her arm through mine as we walked slowly past little touristy shops, full of a million different versions of the Eiffel Tower.

  ‘I can’t get Nora out of my mind. I even dreamed about her last night.’

  ‘I thought you’d never met her?’

  ‘I didn’t, but Mum talked about her so much I always felt as if I knew her. She was very different to my mother. Mum is very serious and efficient. Nora was a bit wild. She totally rejected her religion at an early age and caused a bit of a scandal in the family by going out with a non-Muslim boy when she was about sixteen. Mum was close to her and used to pick up the pieces after her various crises. I don’t think Papa liked her, he thought she was unstable and relied on Maman too much.’

  We walked for a while in silence.

  ‘Where are we going?’

  ‘I suppose we’re heading towards the hotel. Did you want to do something?’

  ‘I wouldn’t mind seeing that building you showed me the other day when we were at the top of the Pompidou Centre, the funny white one that looks like the sort of palace I read about in stories when I was little.’

  ‘Oh you mean Sacre-Coeur! OK, let’s go. I need something to take my mind off everything. We can go on the metro, it’s quicker.’

  We headed back towards the fountain and went down into the metro via a steep staircase. Malika pulled a couple of tickets out of her back pocket and we went through the barrier and headed down towards the platform. There was a strange smell of musty eggs down by the tracks. I wrinkled my nose and Malika started laughing. It was different from the tube in London; you could see the passengers waiting on the other side of the platform for the train going the other way. A man was strumming a guitar with a dopey looking dog at his side. The track started vibrating and people edged forward as the noise of the approaching train filled the tunnel. A man standing near to the busker looked vaguely familiar. The busker stopped playing, stood up and handed a package to the man. The dog started barking as the noise of the train approaching filled the tunnel. Malika and I looked at one another in astonishment. The man was Michael.

  ‘Papa!’ shouted Malika, before I could stop her. At that moment the train roared onto the platform in front of us, drowning out her voice. I grabbed her and we edged back towards the wall, as passengers around us pushed urgently onto the train. As the noise of the departing train filled the air I held my breath, willing the train to move out of the way. I hadn’t noticed the train arriving on the other side and when my vision was clear I finally released my breath, but it was too late. The platform opposite was empty.

  CHAPTER 24

  ‘Quick!’ shouted Malika and we rushed to the staircase on the side of the station and galloped up the stairs. She paused for a moment at the top then pointed to a sign saying ‘Porte de Clignancourt’ and raced towards it. She was fast and I cursed myself for wearing heels, they weren’t that high but I hadn’t anticipated racing around a tube station when I chose my clothes this morning. Malika’s boots were far better suited to the occasion. I couldn’t help running into her with a thump as she came to a sudden stop at the edge of the platform.

  ‘They won’t be here now,’ I gasped. ‘They must have got on the train.’ We both scanned the platform, which was slowly filling up with passengers again, but the busker and dog had gone. And there was definitely no sign of Michael.

  ‘Let’s go back upstairs,’ I suggested. ‘We don’t know for sure whether Michael got on the train.’

  We retraced our steps, Malika rooting around in her bag and pulling out her phone.

  ‘You have a quick look around,’ she said, ‘I’m making a call.’ I wandered up and down the platform, but I was convinced Michael had jumped on the train. Malika came back over to me. ‘That was Maman,’ she said. ‘I asked her where Papa was working today. She said he had a meeting out of town, he won’t be back until this evening. And he took the car.’

  ‘You didn’t say anything did you?’

  ‘Of course I didn’t! But what happened there? What is he up to?’

  ‘It was him, wasn’t it?

  ‘I think I’d know my own father,’ she said.

  ‘Well some of us aren’t so fortunate,’ I muttered.

  ‘Jasmine,’ she grabbed my arm, ‘you know I didn’t mean anything by it. I’m wondering who that man was.’

  ‘Well we’ll never know now will we.’

  Malika and I separated when we got back to the hotel. I thought she’d forgotten to tell me something when there was a knock at my door. I was surprised to see Sara standing outside.

  ‘Can I talk to you?’ she asked. Her smile was warm, so like Malika’s. She followed me into the room and sat down at the desk. ‘I thought we should get to know one another. You are my husband’s daughter after all and my own daughter is very fond of you already, I can tell. Are you missing your mother?’

  I shook my head. ‘Mum’s got a very high-powered job. She works long hours.’ A picture of Mum sprang into my head, glass of wine in hand, talking to Clare on the phone. ‘Even when she gets home from work, which is late, she carries on working. I don’t mind, though,’ I added, ‘we get on great. Do you have a big family?’

  ‘My parents live in Morocco and I have two sisters and two brothers.’

  ‘In France?’ I asked.

  She looked sad. ‘My brother Ali lives in Lille. My little sister also used to live there too, but I don’t see her any more. She went missing a few years ago and we never found out what happened to her.’

  ‘That’s terrible. Are you still looking for her?’

  She smiled sadly. ‘Every time I go out of the house I am scanning the streets with my eyes to see if I can see her, I refuse to believe I will never see her again.’

  ‘That’s how I felt about my dad when I was little,’ I said quietly, ‘I always expected him to call me, or send me a card on my birthday. Every night when I got home from school I waited.’

  ‘I understand.’ She patted my hand and I didn’t mind. ‘It’s the not knowing that is so hard. If I knew she had chosen to leave us and she was OK then I could let it go, but…’ at that moment Malika pushed the door open.

  ‘Can I come in?’ She stood behind her mum and put her arms around her neck. ‘What are you two talking about?’ she asked.

  ‘I was just telling Jasmine about Aunty Nora.’ Jasmine looked at me in alarm over her mother’s head. I shook my head very slightly. She relaxed.

  ‘Have you heard from Papa today?’ she asked, sitting down on the bed.

  ‘He rang this afternoon and said the meeting was going well.’ she laughed. ‘We’re all going out for dinner later.’

  ‘I’d better have a shower then,’ I said.

  ‘Come on, Malika, let’s give Jasmine a bit of peace.’

  I pulled the photo of Nora out of the zipped pocket in my bag and studied the pretty face. What had happened to her? I lay back on the bed and closed my eyes. Moments later I was asleep, Malika, Sara and Michael were running around the Paris metro in my dreams, while I tried desperately to keep up with them, a dog snapping at my heels.

  A hand was on my shoulder, shaking me. I opened my eyes.

  ‘It’s time to eat,’ said Malika.

  Sara and Michael were waiting outside their room. As we listened to the grinding sound of the lift approaching, my nose started itching. I sneezed loudly.

  ‘Oh no,’ I groaned. ‘I always sneeze at least five times and I
haven’t got a tissue.’

  ‘Take this,’ said Sara, handing me the passkey to her room. ‘There’s a pack on the table.’ A loud ping announced the arrival of the lift. ‘We’ll wait for you downstairs.’

  I let myself into the room and spotted the tissues straight away on the table. I sneezed four times. As I blew my nose loudly I noticed Michael’s battered leather case by the side of the bed. An image of the man holding the case on the station platform flashed through my head. Without stopping to think, I unclasped the catch and opened the case. My hands trembled slightly as I saw the package straight away. This had to be it! It was a large padded envelope. It had been opened already and I put my trembling hand in and pulled out a few sheets of papers. I glanced at the door, but the corridor was silent. I had to be quick.

  The documents were in French. I pulled out my phone and took close-up shots of each piece of paper on both sides. I shoved the envelope back in the case, grabbed the rest of the tissues and ran out into the corridor.

  They were standing in the foyer, and Michael stepped forward when he saw me, as if to give me a hug but I swerved him.

  ‘Sorry I took so long, ‘I said.

  Sara smiled. ‘Malika always sneezes a hundred times too.’

  ‘How was your day in Paris?’ Michael asked. ‘Is Malika looking after you?’

  ‘Yes,’ I said.

  ‘We saw someone who looked just like you on the platform at St Michel, Papa,’ said Malika, ‘talking to a busker.’ I watched Michael carefully. Surprise flickered across his face, before he quickly turned his head away.

  ‘A lookalike!’ he said. ‘I was out in the car today. Let’s go, we don’t want to miss our reservation at the restaurant.’

  Malika looked at me. I could read the dismay in her eyes. I squeezed her arm as we walked behind Sara and Michael into the restaurant.

  CHAPTER 25

  After dinner I waited until Michael and Sara were safely in their room, before tapping on Malika’s door.

  ‘Malika, are you awake?’

  ‘I am now,’ she said. She was wearing a long t-shirt with pyjama bottoms and her curls cascaded over her shoulders.

  ‘I’m scared,’ she said. ‘Every now and then I remember the photograph of Tante Nora that was in Papa’s wallet. It’s really hard not to say anything, you saw how Maman is about her still, after so much time. Well it’s understandable. But what if Dad did have something to do with her disappearance? Why so many secrets? He’s keeping something from us and I don’t like that.’

  My eyes were becoming accustomed to the dark. Malika pulled herself up so that she was leaning her head against the headrest. Her eyes glinted in the dark, the streetlights casting shadows across the room. Every now and then a car purred by.

  ‘It was him, though, wasn’t it, at St Michel? Or was I seeing things?’

  I took my phone out of my dressing gown. ‘It was definitely him. I’ve got proof.’

  ‘What do you mean?’ Her eyes were large and round.

  ‘His case was in the room when I went to get the tissues. I looked inside.’

  ‘Jasmine! You shouldn’t have done that.’

  ‘How else are we supposed to find out what’s going on?’

  ‘We could ask him.’

  ‘Yeah right, and let him know that we’re onto him. Then he’ll be extra careful. You want to prove him innocent don’t you?’

  She bit down on her lip. ‘I suppose so. Let’s see then, what have you got?’

  I handed her my phone and showed her the shots I’d taken of the papers. Her dark eyes scanned back and forth. She cried out, clapping her hand to her mouth.

  ‘What is it?’ I asked. She looked up at me, and with a shock I realised that her eyes were brimming with tears.

  ‘It’s Nora’s birth certificate,’ she said. ‘Why does he have this? What is he up to?’

  ‘What are the others?’

  She didn’t move for a moment. She was still scanning the text, disbelief written across her face. She shook her head, then clicked onto the next photo.

  ‘How many more are there?’

  ‘Two.’ Her hands were trembling slightly as she held the second up to read.

  ‘What is it?’

  ‘It’s a reference for Nora, written by…’ she squinted at the signature and swiped the screen to make it larger.

  ‘I can’t read the writing at all, wait…oh it’s printed here. A Marc Dupont from the Hotel Président in Lille.’ She shrugged. ‘Then this last one is a list of job vacancies, all in the hotel trade and all in England.’ She looked up at me. ‘Nora must be in England, she has to be.’

  ‘Let me see that list,’ I held out my hand. An idea was forming. I scanned the list of hotels, all of which were in towns around the south of England. I jabbed my finger at the text, there it was, what I had been looking for.

  ‘The Hotel Metropole, Amersham.’ Malika was looking quizzically at me. ‘That’s where Michael stayed when he was in England. Maybe Nora is working there and he went to see her?’

  Malika was shaking her head. ‘I can’t believe he knows where she is. He knows how desperate Maman is for information. Jasmine, I think we have to tell her, speak to Papa. I don’t think I can bear keeping secrets from her.’

  ‘You can’t,’ I pleaded. ‘Think about it. If you tell Sara then she will insist on speaking to Michael about it. If he knows what we suspect, he can lie and cover up what he is doing. If he is guilty, and don’t forget there is the crucial problem of what his connection with Miriam is, then he can make it very difficult for us to find out the truth.’

  Malika looked miserable. ‘The best thing,’ I continued, clutching at the right thing to say, ‘Is that we carry on trying to find out what happened when we get back to England.’

  ‘I guess so,’ Malika asked. She didn’t look too happy.

  ‘Can we visit this hotel?’

  I nodded. ‘Definitely.’

  Malika yawned. ‘I need to get some sleep.’

  ‘First thing tomorrow I’m going to check my emails and see if Tess has got any news from back home. I haven’t seen any English newspapers, so I don’t know what’s going on with the police and Miriam. They may have found more details.’

  I was up early the next morning, and after snatching a

  croissant from the breakfast bar, I went straight to the public internet point. I logged straight into my email account. There was an email from Tess.

  ‘OMG,’ was the subject. I smiled, typical drama queen Tess.

  You won’t believe what has been happening here! I have only had four hours sleep due to extensive investigations carried out last night. Josh (remember he is Sadie’s brother who has joined Mark’s band) threw a party at his place as his folks are still away. I went with Mark and the rest of the guys from the band (yes including Khaled cos I know you’re wondering.) The house is AMAZING and he had invited loads of fit boys from his college. MORE OF THAT LATER. Melanie Moore and her stuck up friends were all there ignoring me but not being as blatant as usual because I gained a bit of street cred being with Mark and the band. Khaled was still being weird with me (Fiona wasn’t there) and he kept coming over and asking me not to say anything about Miriam. I got fed up with it in the end and suggested maybe he had something to hide. He was a bit pissed and got really angry with me and started yelling and Mark and Josh had to pull him away from me. Mark made me tell him what we were arguing over, he threatened to tell Mum I’d been at the party if I didn’t fess up. Anyhow I’m afraid Mark knows everything. Des took Khaled outside and managed to calm him down and persuaded him to leave as Josh was about to call the police. Mark is furious at what we’ve been up to and he says he’s going to speak to Khaled and find out what’s really going on.

  So if that wasn’t enough excitement, Josh, who is EVER so slightly gorgeous spent the rest of the evening looking after me and…wait for it….he asked me out at the end of the evening. Oh, and he kissed me…. OMGGG!!! So that’s why I didn�
�t sleep at all and I don’t think I ever will again and obviously you must be thinking that I will never wash my cheek again – but it wasn’t a kiss on the cheek – It was a proper steamy SNOG!!

  Can’t wait to chat,

  Love Tess xxx

  Tess was always having adventures. She hadn’t mentioned Miriam, so I googled her name to look through the latest newspaper stories. I spotted Malika heading towards me.

  ‘You’re keen,’ she said, ‘budge up.’ She squashed onto the seat beside me. I inhaled a citrusy perfume. Today she was wearing all black, her eyes rimmed with heavy black kohl and silver eye shadow. So different from Sadie. I realized with a jolt that I had barely given her a thought since I arrived in Paris.

  ‘Read that,’ I said, finishing off my croissant while she read the article. Flakes of pastry scattered all over my lap, and I brushed them away, listening as Malika read aloud.

  There has been an overwhelming response to last week’s Crimewatch appeal concerning murdered teenager Miriam Jackson, in particular regarding the missing witness who reported the finding of the body to police. Sightings have reportedly been made in York, Madrid, Edinburgh and the Isle of Wight.

  She stopped reading. ‘Not Paris, then. ‘I can’t believe nobody has recognized him. I suppose if it had happened in France…’

  I nudged her. ‘Carry on.’

  CCTV footage captured Miriam’s last movements at Marylebone station, but there are no cameras at Keston. Police are believed to know the identity of Miriam’s boyfriend, but his name has not been made public at present.

  ‘Does that mean they know about Khaled?’ Malika asked.

  I shrugged. ‘Who knows? If I was him I’d hand myself in, clear my name.’

  ‘Unless…’ I didn’t want to go there.

  ‘Hi girls.’

  The baritone voice made me jump and Malika closed the web page down and logged off.