Gemma's Journey

by Beryl Kingston

  ‘You must know where they are,’ he said. ‘They can’t have left the house without you knowing. Come on, Susan. This nonsense has gone on long enough. Get up and open this door and stop playing the fool. Did Sheryl take them somewhere?’

  But she only groaned and told him to go away.

  He was too worried and too angry to talk to her any longer. The girls were out somewhere and he would have to find them. ‘I’ll phone round,’ he decided.

  He lit a cigarette for comfort, and went downstairs to start his search. Sheryl’s mother said, no, the girls weren’t with Sheryl. She’d gone to a disco in Leeds. Helen’s best friend hadn’t seen her since playtime and wanted to know if she’d still got her Peter André record. Her next-best friend couldn’t remember when she’d seen her last. But the third-best, who was called Alice, said she’d seen her after school, going off somewhere.

  ‘Who was with her?’ he asked.

  ‘Naomi.’

  ‘Who else? Weren’t they with a grown-up?’

  ‘No. They were on their own.’

  The shock of that made him feel nauseous. They never went anywhere on their own. That was why they had a nanny, to ensure that they were always accompanied. ‘Do you know where they were going?’

  Alice was unconcerned. ‘Down the road, I expect.’

  ‘Which road?’

  ‘The school road,’ Alice said. And then her mother took the phone back again, wondering what was the matter. So he made an excuse that he’d come home, found the children out, didn’t know where they were and was ringing round. Then he hung up before he could be asked any questions about Susan. He was sick with fear. They were out on their own in the dark with no one to look after them. Anything could happen to them. For all he knew it might have happened already. But that was too awful to think about and raised him to such a passion of terrified anger that he couldn’t contain it. Damn you Sue, he thought. This is all your fault. He took the stairs two at a time, to let her know what she’d done.

  ‘Thanks to you, our kids are out there wandering about in the dark with no one to look after them,’ he said, his voice harsh with distress. ‘I hope you feel bloody ashamed of yourself!’

  There wasn’t a sound from the bedroom. She didn’t even answer that. He beat on the door with both fists, shouting at her.

  ‘For Christ’s sake, Susan, what are you playing at? Don’t you care? I’ve rung everywhere, do you hear me? Everywhere. And I can’t find them. Nobody knows where they are.’ He remembered the phone ringing and ringing as he arrived home. ‘Damn you, Susan. You couldn’t even be bothered to answer the bloody phone. They could have been trying to get through to us and you just …’ And then common sense began to reassert itself. He could dial 1471 and return the call. Without saying another word, he went straight back to the phone.

  A London number. Not Andrew’s but in the same area. Surely they’re not … ‘Hello! This is Rob Pengilly. You rang me.’

  ‘Yes,’ Gemma’s voice answered. ‘It’s about Helen and Naomi.’

  ‘Do you know where they are?’

  ‘They’re safe. I’ve got them here with me.’

  He was weak with relief. ‘Thank God. Thank God. I’ll be there on the next train, tell them.’

  ‘Do you want to talk to them?’

  He was in too bad a state to face it, caught between fear and anger and afraid of what he might say to them. ‘No,’ he said. ‘Just tell them I’ll be straight there.’ He was already working out what train he could catch, his mind leaping forward to the journey, to the need for a hired car – he’d order that on the Express – checking that he had keys, cash cards, cheque book. Thank God for the speed of InterCity!

  It wasn’t until he was pulling into the car park at Poppleton station that he remembered Susan and realised that he hadn’t told her the news. After a second’s guilt, he decided it served her right. She’d brought it all on herself by turning away from him. And turning away from the kids, which was much, much worse. How could any woman do a thing like that? Leave alone Susan. They could have been murdered wandering off on their own and, if they had been, it would have been all her fault. Let her stew in her own juice.

  So many trains, so many stations, so much anxiety. Catherine and Andrew at Euston, standing in the queue for taxis, she taut with concern, he stamping with impatience. ‘Come on! Come on! Get a move on! What’s the matter with you?’ Rob in York, prowling the long curve of the platform, willing the London train to arrive, wondering how on earth the kids had managed the same journey all on their own. Nick in the Gare du Nord, frantically trying to get a stolid information clerk to understand that he had to get to London that night.

  ‘Mais oui, but le Shuttle is depart, monsieur.’

  ‘It’s ridiculous,’ he fretted. ‘1 can’t stay here all night. What about the ferries? Dover. Calais.’

  ‘Is depart.’

  ‘Newhaven?’

  ‘Is depart.’

  He asked his next question with exasperation. ‘So when is the next train to London?’

  ‘Tomorrow morning, monsieur.’

  In the disapproving calm of her empty house, Susan was weeping at last. When Rob had shouted at her, she’d been so dulled by shock that it had simply been an irritating noise, a series of sounds somewhere in the background and with no meaning, but now the impact of what he’d said was seeping through the cotton wool in her brain to add the sting of remorse to her wounded pride and to rouse the most terrible fear. The girls were missing and he didn’t know where they were. They must have walked out because she wouldn’t speak to them. She must have driven them out of the house. Oh dear God, how could she have done such a thing? And now he’d gone out to look for them, and she didn’t know where he was either or when he’d be coming back, and she was sick with fear.

  She got up from the bed, moving slowly like an old lady, wiped her eyes, cleaned her glasses, put them back on, struggled to think what to do. Should she phone the police? No. Not yet. Not when Rob had gone off to look for them. And certainly not while she was in a state. They’d think she’d murdered them. They always suspected the parents. No, no, I can’t think about murder. They’re not murdered. They’ve just wandered off and got lost and Rob will find them. Please God let him find them and don’t let them be murdered. No, no, I can’t think about that. I’ll wait until he gets back and we’ll phone the police if there isn’t any news. They can’t have got far. Poppleton’s only a small place. But he’d phoned round. He’d said so, hadn’t he. He’d phoned round and nobody knew where they were. Oh dear God, what am I going to do?

  The telephone book was lying on the bedside table where she’d left it that morning before she went to work. Was it only that morning? It felt like a week. She looked at it idly, wondering if there was anyone she could phone for help. Not her parents. They were the last people she wanted to tell. Nick? But he was always unavailable in that hospital. Chris. Of course. She would ring Chris. They were hours behind in Quebec so it would be early evening there and she might be able to catch him at home.

  The same warm voice, the same affection, ‘Hi there, Sis. Nice to hear you.’

  ‘Oh Chris,’ she said. ‘I’m so glad I’ve caught you.’

  His tone changed at once. ‘What’s up?’

  She told him everything in an outpouring of guilt and fear, as though they were in the same room instead of thousands of miles apart.

  ‘OK,’ he said. ‘Leave it to me for the moment. I’ll do what I can. Phone me when Rob gets back or if anything else happens. I’ll get back to you.’

  She thanked him profusely, tears welling into her eyes again. It was the first time for years that she’d felt the need to depend on someone else for help. She and Rob had always been self-sufficient until this awful business. Shame was clogging her mind again and now she had another reason for it. How could she have sent him away like that? Why hadn’t she explained to him the way she’d just explained to Chris? But how could she tell him she’d been
thrown out of her job? That she was finished. How could she explain anything as dreadful as that?

  ‘Are you there?’ Chris’s voice was saying. ‘Sue?’

  ‘I’m here,’ she said. ‘I’ll wait to hear from you. Give me three rings first and redial. Then I shall know it’s you. I can’t face talking to anyone else.’

  In St Mary’s Court, her daughters didn’t want to wait another minute. Once they knew their grandparents were on their way, they found their appetites and made a good supper but now they were fidgety with impatience. Naomi found a perch on the kitchen windowsill and peered into the courtyard. ‘When are they coming?’

  ‘Give them time,’ Gemma said. ‘It’s a long way from Euston. Come and have a look at my bedroom.’ That was dramatic enough to keep them occupied for a few minutes.

  It certainly surprised them.

  ‘What a mess!’ Helen said.

  Naomi wondered if Gemma was going to clear it all up.

  ‘No,’ her sister told her. ‘You mustn’t. You’re supposed to leave it for the police to see. That’s what they do on The Bill’

  ‘I think that’s for fingerprints,’ Gemma said. ‘He was wearing gloves so he didn’t leave any.’

  ‘Are you going to ring them now?’ Naomi wanted to know. Seeing the mess had reminded her. ‘You said you’d ring them when we’d found Grandpa. If you ring them, will they come while we’re still here?’

  ‘I doubt it,’ Gemma said. ‘You’d like to hear me report the dastardly deed, is that it?’

  They were all ears as she rang, taking in every gory detail and deeply impressed by how calm she was.

  ‘Did he really have a dragon tattooed on his neck?’ Helen asked. ‘Crikey! That’s well gruesome. Will you be on Crimewatch?’

  ‘Are they coming to see you?’ Naomi wanted to know. ‘Will they be in a squad car like The Bill? I’ll watch out the kitchen window for them, shall I?’

  ‘You’ll have a long wait,’ Gemma said, laughing at her eagerness. ‘They’re not coming until tomorrow morning.’

  ‘There’s someone coming now,’ Naomi reported from the window. ‘He’s parking his car right outside. It’s a detective, I bet.’

  ‘I shouldn’t get excited,’ Gemma said. ‘It’ll be someone for next door.’

  But he was ringing her doorbell. Now what?

  It was Tim Ledgerwood, squinting on the doorstep.

  He didn’t say ‘Hello’ or ‘Good evening’ but plunged straight into the attack, his face scowling. ‘We’ve got to talk.’

  After all the events of her extraordinary day, Gemma couldn’t be bothered to be polite to him. ‘Not now we haven’t,’ she said. I’ve got other things to attend to.’

  ‘This can’t wait,’ he insisted. ‘We’ve got to talk. There’s a lot of money at stake. I’m running up bills on your behalf. Right? Solicitors don’t come cheap.’

  ‘If you’ve run up bills, that’s your business,’ she told him coldly.

  Her annoyance was getting through to him. So he made an effort and tried a bit of charm. ‘Aren’t you going to ask me in?’

  ‘No. I’m not.’

  ‘But we’ve got to talk. This is getting out of hand.’

  She made a decision, her mind needle sharp with anger. ‘OK,’ she said to him. ‘We’ll talk. I’ve got plenty to say to you, believe me. But not now. Come back tomorrow afternoon. Teatime. And bring Mother with you.’

  ‘What if she won’t come?’

  ‘That’ll be your tough luck. No Mother, no talk. D’you understand that?’ And she shut the door, her eyes blazing.

  ‘Who was that?’ Helen asked.

  ‘That,’ Gemma told her, ‘believe it or not, was my father.’

  ‘Crikey!’ Helen said. ‘He doesn’t look like a father.’

  ‘There’s the taxi!’ Naomi yelled from her perch on the windowsill. ‘They’re here!’

  Chapter 34

  As soon as Andrew and Catherine had finally climbed into their taxi at Euston, he erupted into furious and useless questioning. While they’d been waiting in the queue, he’d managed to keep his anxiety more or less under control but now he let rip.

  ‘All that way, all on their own,’ he raged. ‘I’ve never heard anything to equal it. Anything could have happened. They could have got on the wrong train and ended up at the back of beyond and how would we have found them then? They could have been run over, crossing some God-awful road somewhere. Why didn’t someone stop them? They’ve got a nanny, for God’s sake. Where was she? I hope they sling her out on her stupid ear, damned stupid girl. I never did hold with nannies. And Susan ill.’

  ‘We don’t know she’s ill,’ Catherine pointed out.

  ‘Of course she’s ill. Why else would the children have run off like that? It was because she was too ill to notice. It’s obvious.’

  ‘It could be something else.’

  ‘Like what?’

  Catherine was remembering. ‘Work, perhaps.’

  He wouldn’t consider it. ‘You don’t get into a state about work.’

  ‘She got in a state when she failed her exams,’ Catherine reminded him. ‘She locked herself in the bedroom and wouldn’t come out.’

  He dismissed that as youthful dramatics. ‘She was a child. This is different. She’s ill. She must be. Or she’s had an accident. She should have called a doctor. Got things organised.’

  ‘Perhaps she has.’

  ‘Then why hasn’t somebody phoned to tell us? And where’s Rob, for Christ’s sake? The whole thing’s bloody ridiculous.’

  ‘Well at least Gemma was there to take them in.’

  ‘And what if she hadn’t been?’ he said, his face a storm of anxiety. ‘Tell me that.’

  ‘But she was.’

  ‘And what if she saw the broadcast or read that bloody awful paper? What am I going to say to her, Kate?’

  ‘Nothing,’ Catherine advised. ‘It’s late. We’ll just pick up the girls and go home. We can deal with everything else in the morning.’

  The taxi edged towards Putney through the impatient traffic of the evening. They seemed to be moving through a blizzard of harsh lights and very very slowly. ‘Can’t he go any bloody faster?’

  ‘When we get there,’ Catherine said, ‘no scolding the girls.’ It was midway between an instruction and a suggestion. ‘I know they deserve it but they’ve probably given themselves fright enough and we’d only be rubbing it in.’

  ‘No scolding,’ he agreed. It would be more appropriate coming from their parents. And she was right. It must have frightened them terribly.

  ‘No questioning either.’

  ‘We must find out what’s the matter with Susan.’

  ‘Let them tell us, eh?’

  ‘They’d better. We need to know. It’s all perfectly bloody ridiculous.’

  But once they were in St Mary’s Court and the girls were standing in Gemma’s hall, waiting to greet him, he took one look at their poor little faces and the dark shadows under their poor little eyes and was filled with such pity that he simply scooped them up into his arms and gave them a bear hug. And Gemma didn’t say anything.

  ‘You should be tucked up in bed, the pair of you,’ he said, leading them off at once to the waiting taxi, before anything could be said. ‘I prescribe a warm bath, a hot drink and plenty of sleep. Come on!’

  Catherine stayed behind to thank Gemma for looking after them. ‘We do appreciate it,’ she said. ‘What a good job you were here.’

  ‘Yes,’ Gemma agreed, wryly, watching as Andrew led the girls away. The sight of him looking so handsome and self-assured made her feel angry. You open your mouth, she was thinking, and I get bloody burgled and you just walk away as if nothing had happened. ‘Wasn’t it.’

  ‘I don’t know what we should have done if you hadn’t been. What news of Susan? You said she was locked in her room.’

  Gemma told her what little she knew, warned her that it upset the girls to be questioned and added that Rob was on
his way.

  Then it is work, Catherine thought. I knew it.

  ‘Come on, Kate!’ Andrew called from the taxi. ‘You can talk tomorrow.’

  The two women kissed before Catherine ran to the taxi, where Andrew was waiting at the door.

  ‘Quite right, Dr Quennell!’ Gemma called to him bitterly. ‘There’s been far too much talking in the last few days, if you ask me.’ And she went back inside the flat before she was tempted to say anything else.

  ‘She saw the broadcast,’ Andrew said, as the taxi edged out of the compound. ‘I knew there’d be trouble.’

  But Catherine hadn’t got time to think about the broadcast now. She was concerned for her granddaughters, asking whether they’d had anything to eat and whether they’d brought their pyjamas.

  ‘We’ll find some for you,’ she said, when they shook their heads. ‘I’ve got some old ones of your mother’s hidden away somewhere. And then we’ll ring your mummy and daddy to tell them where you are.’

  ‘She won’t answer,’ Helen said, bleakly. ‘She hasn’t been answering all evening. And Daddy won’t either because he’s on the train. He said he was coming straight here.’

  Catherine could see that talk of phoning distressed them. ‘Well we’ll see,’ she temporised. ‘The first thing is to get you bathed and to bed. There’ll be time enough for phoning in the morning.’

  But when they got in, the answerphone was flashing and had to be dealt with.

  ‘I’ll see to it,’ Andrew said. ‘You take them up to bed. They’ve had enough for one day, haven’t you girls? I’ll come up and tell you if there’s any news.’ He waited until they were out of earshot before he switched on the machine.

  There were five messages from reporters, which was predictable, all saying much the same thing. Would he care to comment on the allegations made on Friday Forum? No he would not. At least not now and not to them. That could wait for his column and would have to be thought about very carefully, when he had the time and energy for it. The sixth message was Gemma’s, now out of date. The seventh and last was from Chris: ‘I’ve just had a call from Susan. Please call me back as soon as you can.’