by Susan Lewis
‘Has she taken any clothes?’ Stacy asked.
‘Yes, a few things are missing.’
‘Have you told Tom?’
‘Not yet, but I’ll have to if she isn’t back by tonight. I’ve even considered going to the police, but she’s sixteen, for God’s sake, and she’s in touch, sort of, so I don’t suppose they’ll be interested. Oh God, I dread to think of what she’s got herself into – and of what Tom’s going to say if I have to tell him I don’t know where she is.’
‘Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that. I’m sure she’ll show up at some point today.’
‘After spending the night somewhere with someone she doesn’t want me to know anything about? This isn’t good, Stace. There’s definitely something wrong, and if anything happens to her, it’ll be all my fault for being so damned wrapped up in myself.’
Downstairs in Max’s apartment Skye was saying, ‘All you’ve got to do is stop your girlfriend coming here and I’ll tell you where your sister is.’
Max was in a filthy enough mood already; this was making it a whole lot worse. ‘Don’t fucking threaten me,’ he growled. ‘Just tell me where the hell she is.’
‘No way . . .’ She sprang back as he started towards her, but he was too fast and grabbed her wrist. ‘If anything happens to her,’ he snarled, ‘I’ll hold you personally responsible. Now where the fuck is she?’
Accepting she wasn’t going to win this, Skye said, ‘Actually, I don’t know where she is . . .’
‘What the fuck . . .’
‘. . . but I think I know who she’s with.’
He waited.
She glanced at him nervously, certain Tierney wouldn’t want her to tell him, unless that mental case, Mr Grey, had turned up here and forced Tierney to go with him . . .
‘Skye,’ Max warned.
‘All right, but actually, I don’t know his name,’ she confessed. ‘I mean, it’s Guy something-or-other. You know him though, because he’s married to your dad’s agent.’
Max looked as though he’d been struck. He surely to God hadn’t heard that right. ‘Tell me that’s not true,’ he demanded in a dangerously low voice.
She only looked at him.
‘Jesus Holy Christ,’ he thundered. ‘That bell end’s old enough to be her father . . . Shit, if Dad ever finds out about this . . . We can’t tell Lainey. We can’t tell anyone. Where’s he taken her?’
Skye shrugged. ‘I’ve got no idea. She didn’t even tell me she was going to see him . . .’
‘She’s bound to have . . .’
‘I swear she didn’t. All I know is that he sent her a text saying, Guess where I am.’
‘And?’
‘We assumed it meant he was here.’
Opening up his mobile, he scrolled fast through the numbers. He didn’t much care what kind of trouble he was about to cause now, all that mattered was blowing that jerk right off the planet so he could never lay a hand on Tierney again. ‘Hey, it’s Max Hollingsworth,’ he told Nadia as she answered. ‘Sorry to bother you, but I don’t have a number for Guy and I kind of need to talk to him.’
‘I’m afraid he’s not here,’ Nadia replied, sounding all bunged up. ‘He’s at the office . . .’
‘On a Sunday?’
‘We’ve got a lot on at the moment.’
‘OK, great, I’ll call him there. Thanks,’ and ringing off he found the office number and connected. A girl picked up on the third ring.
‘Is Guy there?’ Max demanded. ‘It’s kind of urgent.’
‘Uh, I’m not sure,’ came the reply. ‘Can I ask who’s calling?’
‘Max Hollingsworth, Tom’s son. I’ll hold.’
As he waited, his eyes went to Skye’s, but seeing her unease he quickly looked away.
‘Is he there?’ Skye whispered anxiously.
‘That’s what I’m trying to find out.’
‘I’m sorry,’ the girl said, coming back on the line, ‘I thought he was here, but it seems he’s stepped out for a while. Shall I ask him to call . . .’
‘Have you actually seen him today?’ Tom interrupted.
Sounding baffled, the girl said, ‘Not personally, but . . .’
‘OK, when did you last see him?’
‘I guess it must have been Friday, just before I left for the day. Can I ask . . .’
‘No you can’t. Sorry, I just need to get hold of him. Do you have his mobile number?’
‘Yes, but I’m not supposed . . .’
‘I’m Tom Hollingsworth’s son,’ he reminded her, ‘you can give it to me.’
Minutes later he was connecting to Guy Whittaker’s mobile. It rang half a dozen times before Guy’s voice came down the line saying, ‘If this is a telemarket . . .’
‘It’s Max Hollingsworth,’ Max cut in. ‘Where’s my sister?’
There was a beat of silence, before Whittaker said, ‘Why on earth would I know where your sister is?’
Max glanced menacingly at Skye. If she was making this up . . . ‘Because you’ve been texting her, stalking her more like . . .’
‘You need to get a grip, Max,’ Guy broke in, ‘because I’ve got no idea . . .’
‘You’re full of shit, Whittaker. I’ve got her friend right here and she’s told me everything.’
‘And you believe her?’
‘As a matter of fact I do. So I’m asking you again, where the fuck is my sister? Is she with you now? Put her on.’
‘I can’t do that . . .’
‘Just do it!’
‘I told you, she’s not here.’
‘Where’s here? Are you in Italy?’
‘What the . . .’
‘Did you send her a text telling her to guess where you were?’
‘What? No!’
‘He did,’ Skye cried. ‘I saw it, and I know it was from him, because I saw all the others he sent too.’
‘Did you hear that?’ Max demanded.
‘I did, but she’s getting it all wrong . . .’
‘He’s a weirdo,’ Skye shouted even louder. ‘He’s into all sorts of . . .’
‘Max, give me a break,’ Guy interrupted angrily. ‘You know what girls that age are like, they get an idea in their head and your sister . . .’
‘Is a child,’ Max seethed.
‘She’s sixteen,’ Skye reminded him.
‘Next to him, that makes her a child,’ Max retorted, ‘and if I ever find out you laid as much as one finger on her . . .’ he threatened Guy.
‘He shagged her,’ Skye broke in wildly. ‘He was her first . . .’
‘That is not true,’ Guy shouted back.
Max’s head was spinning.
‘Yes, it is true,’ Skye insisted. ‘You did stuff to her like in the book and you keep wanting to do it again, but she’s not interested, so now you won’t leave her alone.’
‘I’m not listening to any more of this,’ Guy snapped. ‘I don’t know where your sister is; I’m sorry if she and her friend have been spinning you a load of lies, but it’s not my problem,’ and the line went dead.
Max glared at Skye.
‘I swear I didn’t tell her to get involved with him,’ she gasped, ‘and I didn’t . . .’
‘Shut up, I’m trying to think.’
‘Charming,’ she muttered.
After a moment he slapped a hand to his head, and calling up Tierney’s number he pressed to connect. Once again he was pushed through to voicemail, but not before he’d heard the double ringtone. ‘She’s in England,’ he declared. ‘She’s gone to that fucking lowlife . . .’ He was already digging through his holdall, turning out his passport and wallet.
‘What are you doing?’ Skye cried.
Ignoring her, he ran upstairs to Lainey. ‘I know where she is,’ he told her, ‘or I kind of do. I’ll find her. Just don’t tell Dad yet, OK? Let me get to her first,’ and before Lainey could utter a word he was dashing to his car, turning it around and speeding off down the drive.
Tierney hadn’t cried at all yet,
but she’d come very close more times than she could count. Yesterday, Sunday, had been the worst, when she’d caught a train to Pisa with Brett and Ricky. They hadn’t been thrilled about letting her share their tent, which they’d pitched at a campsite close to the airport, but at least they’d helped her get on the same flight as them first thing this morning. This meant she’d ended up at Gatwick, so she’d travelled into London with them where they’d left her to go on up north.
She was on another train now, her mobile clutched tightly in one hand, her bag nestled in her lap as she stared out of the window. It was raining, which seemed weird after all the sun in Italy. She wondered what her mum was doing now, and felt her heart tightening as more tears stung her eyes. She hated making her worry like this, which was why she kept texting to say she was all right. Skye had sent loads of messages too, but Tierney hadn’t answered any of them. She was so mad with Skye. She’d only gone and told Max about Guy, so now Max was sending texts saying he was on his way and would sort the bastard out.
Oh God, what was he going to do?
Getting to her feet as the train rolled into the station, she pushed her way along the aisle and out on to the platform. She’d have to take a taxi from here, but that was OK, she had enough money. Her heart skipped a beat as she wondered if he’d be waiting outside. She’d texted to say she was coming, but she couldn’t remember now if she’d told him which train she was on.
Choking back a sob as she merged with the crowd exiting the station, she looked around but could see no sign of him. Was he in his car, waiting to spot her?
She stood still, thinking it might make it easier for him to see her, but she was only bumped and pushed aside, knocked with umbrellas and splashed by feet hitting the puddles around her. The crowd cleared and he still wasn’t there.
Joining the taxi queue she checked her mobile, as a new text dropped in.
Where are you? What the hell have you been telling your brother?
Her heart churned with fear; her fingers were trembling so hard she could barely tap in a reply. In the end, she stopped trying.
Twenty minutes later, the taxi was preparing to stop. She was so tense she couldn’t even feel her nails biting into her palms. What was she going to do if he wasn’t there? How was she going to make everything all right if he didn’t want to listen?
She felt sick with dread. It was all going wrong. She shouldn’t have come, but how could she not have? She’d needed to do something, but now she was here she wished she was still with her mum.
She saw his car, and a huge sob escaped her.
Then she saw him, coming out of the door, and leaping from the taxi she ran straight into his arms.
‘Dad, Dad,’ she choked, clinging to him with all her might. ‘Oh Dad, you’re here.’
‘Of course I’m here,’ he said tenderly. ‘Didn’t you get my messages?’
She didn’t know. She didn’t think so, but maybe she’d been in too much of a state to realise what she was reading. It didn’t matter – all that did was that he was at home, where he belonged, and now, together, they were going to make everything all right between him and Mum. She couldn’t tell him about Guy, though. That was a problem she had to try to ignore, for now.
Keeping her with him, he went to pay the driver, and after taking her bag from the back seat he led her into the kitchen. There was no sign of Auntie Daffs or Grandpa. Maybe they’d gone to Age Concern, or church, seeing as it was a Sunday.
After putting her bag down Tom wrapped her in his arms again. ‘So what’s all this about?’ he asked softly.
‘Please don’t go,’ she sobbed wretchedly. ‘Please stay with us. Mum still loves you . . . so do we . . . nothing will ever be right without you.’
‘Hey, hey,’ he soothed. ‘Take a breath now.’
‘You’re not listening to me . . .’
‘Of course I am.’
‘You don’t understand, Mum’s . . . Oh my God, you’re going back to her,’ she cried, spotting his bags on the floor. ‘Dad, don’t, please, please . . . We really love you and I think you love us. OK, I know you’ve got Julia to think about, and her mum’s not well, but it’s not fair if they take you away. It just isn’t, when you’re our dad too . . .’
Cupping her face in his hands, he said, ‘She isn’t taking me away from you. No one could ever do that.’
‘So why are you . . .?’
‘Will you please let me get a word in?’
She gave a jerky sort of nod as she hiccuped another sob.
He was regarding her closely. ‘Before we go any further,’ he said, ‘does Mum know you’re here?’
Realising it wouldn’t do any good to lie, she shook her head. ‘I’ve sent her lots of texts saying I’m all right, but I know she’s really worried. I just didn’t want to tell her, in case she tried to stop me.’
He gave her a look of fond despair. ‘We need to call and let her know you’re safe,’ he declared. ‘Then, my darling, we’re going to sit down and have a good long chat about everything that’s been happening . . .’ He broke off as she suddenly began sobbing again, harder than ever. She was shaking so violently that he could barely hold her still. ‘Tierney, what is it?’ he urged worriedly. ‘There’s more, isn’t there? Tell me what it is.’
‘I can’t,’ she gasped. ‘I mean, there’s nothing.’
‘I think there is.’
She turned away, using her fingers to try and blot her tears. ‘Let’s ring Mum,’ she gulped, and reaching for the phone she handed it to him.
As he dialled his eyes kept coming back to her, searching for whatever she was hiding.
‘Please be nice to her,’ she said hoarsely, as she heard the ringtone.
‘Aren’t you going to speak to her?’ he asked.
The shake of her head could have been a nod. Her mobile rang, and seeing it was Max she felt herself shrivelling inside as she tried to decide whether or not to answer. She couldn’t with her dad there, but she had to know what was going on, so taking the phone into the hall, she clicked on.
‘T? Are you there?’
‘Yeah, I’m here,’ she whispered. ‘Where are you?’
‘On my way to get you. Didn’t you pick up my messages?’
‘Yes, but I’m OK, honestly. You don’t have to come.’
‘I do, if that slimy bastard’s . . .’
‘I’m at home, Max, with Dad.’
There was a moment’s stunned silence. ‘With Dad?’
‘Yes, I can put him on if you like.’
‘No thanks. What are you doing there? Skye said . . .’
‘I know what she said, but I had to see Dad, that’s why I came.’
‘So why the fuck didn’t you tell anyone?’
‘Because you’d have tried to stop me.’
‘Jesus Christ, T. I’ve just got off a plane . . .’
‘You didn’t have to come.’
‘I did if you’re seeing that arsehole.’
‘I’m not, I promise.’ She started to cry.
‘What’s he done to you, T? I need to know if any of what Skye told me is true.’
She tried to say it wasn’t, but couldn’t make herself speak.
‘It is, isn’t it?’ he growled.
‘Don’t,’ she sobbed. ‘I didn’t mean . . . It’s not . . .’
‘He’s going to fucking pay for this,’ he snarled, and before she could utter a protest the line went dead.
Remembering the door code to Nadia’s South Kensington offices, Max punched it in and was about to race up the stairs to strangle Guy Whittaker when his mobile rang. Seeing it was Tierney, he quickly clicked on.
‘What now?’ he demanded brusquely.
‘What are you going to do?’ she asked shakily.
‘What a fucking question! I’m going to make sure that stinking lowlife never comes near you again, that’s what I’m going to do.’
‘Max, listen, I don’t want anyone to know.’
‘No kidding?’
‘If Dad ever finds out . . .’
‘I’m on it, all right. Now, if you’ll let me . . .’
‘He’s got photos, Max. I mean, of me.’
Max stopped in his tracks. ‘Tell me I’m not understanding this correctly,’ he warned.
No reply.
‘Jesus Christ, Tierney, what were you thinking?’ he cried, spinning round and thumping the wall. ‘How could you let anyone, least of all that jerk . . .’
‘Don’t shout at me. I messed up, all right? But you’ve messed up too, loads of times . . .’
‘Not like this. OK, maybe worse than this. Actually, maybe not.’ He was trying to think. ‘How the fuck am I supposed to get the photos back?’
‘I don’t know, but you have to.’
‘Dead right I do.’
‘Max?’
‘What?’
‘You won’t look at them, will you?’
If he weren’t so mad he might have laughed at that. ‘Right, so when I get them deleted or whatever, I’m going to have to take his word for it that they’re of you, because I can’t look at them. Tierney, get real.’
‘But Max, they’re, like, you know . . .’
‘Yeah, I’m getting the picture, literally.’
‘Don’t say that!’
‘What is it with you? Don’t you get you’re a paedo’s dream?’
‘I’m sixteen . . .’
‘Just. Did you do anything with him before your birthday? If you did, that bastard’s going to jail.’
‘Shut up. I don’t want anyone to know, and anyway, we didn’t do anything before.’
‘That’s the only bit of good news you’ve given me today – apart from being with Dad. Where is he now?’
‘On the phone to Mum.’
Leaving that for another time, he said, ‘Anything else you need to get off your chest?’
Miserably, she replied, ‘No, that’s it, but Max?’
‘What?’
‘If you do get them, you won’t look at them for long, will you?’
Rolling his eyes, he said, ‘Frankly it’s weirding me out just thinking about them . . .’
‘Oh my God, got to go, Dad’s coming.’
As the line went dead Max pocketed his phone and took the stairs three at a time. At reception he came up against a locked door, but he knew that code too and rapidly let himself in.