‘Hi, Amy.’ Cecilia’s thoughts severed as her daughter bounded in. ‘Enjoy your trip out with Dean?’
‘It was great, thanks.’ Amy gripped the handlebars of her mother’s chair and wheeled her into the centre of the room. ‘You feeling all right today? How’s the pain?’ She rubbed her arms as if feeling her mother’s discomfort vicariously.
‘Under control for now.’ Cecilia dispensed a weak smile. ‘Dean give you any more of that stuff?’
‘Yeah, he did. I nipped back here with it before we went out. I came to check on you, but you were having a lie-down, and I didn’t want to disturb you.’
‘You’re a good girl – it’s the only thing that touches it.’
‘Far better than those drugs the doctor gives you, they’re destroying your stomach. I’ll get on and make another batch of those cakes while you and Dad are out this afternoon, if you like?’
‘Aren’t you coming to the party?’
‘No, not my thing. And Dean’s not sure if he’s going to be there. Anyway, more to the point,’ Amy, taking charge, ‘have you thought about what you’re going to wear?’
‘Certainly not a leather catsuit.’ Cecilia, admiring her daughter. ‘You look amazing in it, by the way.’
‘Thanks, Mum. It was really kind of Pippa to let me have it, it’s the ideal thing to wear on the bike. Must have been super-expensive.’ Amy smiled a secret smile and smoothed the supple indigo leather down over her hips. ‘Dean loves me in it.’
‘I bet he does,’ Cecilia chuckled. ‘I’ve got photos of Pippa wearing it. I’ll dig them out. Ha –’ a quick laugh – ‘she was a bit of a raver in her day. Was always leading me astray.’
‘I can just see the two of you out and about in Cheltenham, bet you were right girls on the town.’
Another laugh into her memories before Cecilia refocused on her daughter. ‘Anyway, it’s great you’re getting plenty of wear out of it – Pippa and I certainly haven’t the figures for clothes like that any more.’
‘You’re daft, Mum. You’d look lovely in a plastic bag.’ Amy kissed her mother’s cheek. ‘Come on – what’s it to be?’
‘You choose; you’re so good with clothes.’ Cecilia waved a feeble hand. ‘D’you know where your father was off to this morning? He came back from the shop as usual, but then the phone rang and he rushed straight out again.’
‘No idea, I’ve been with Dean till now – I assumed he was at church.’
‘Early on, maybe, but then he disappeared on one of his walks, and I’ve not seen him since.’
‘Perhaps he took himself off for a ramble, looking for divine inspiration.’ Amy fumbled through the wardrobe’s contents.
‘He was hardly dressed for a yomp to the lake … I don’t know how many more times I have to tell him not to wear his church shoes.’ Cecilia, fitful and stiff from her wheelchair. ‘Wherever he’s got to, he’d better hurry up, we’re due at the pub in less than an hour.’
‘D’you want me to go and see if I can find him?’ Amy offered, plumping for a red top of her mother’s, then changing her mind.
‘No, don’t worry. I’m sure he’ll be back in time.’ Cecilia shook her head at the plum-coloured dress her daughter now showed her. ‘I saw Ellie too, earlier this morning. Coming along the lane at a fair old lick on her wheels.’ A smile. ‘She went into the woods not long after your father, come to think of it. Not that I’ve seen anything of her since either.’ The smile slid away. ‘Mind you, I could have easily missed her – I did go and have a sleep, didn’t I?’ Cecilia muttered as she assessed the papery quality of her hands. ‘Ellie had such a pretty dress on.’ She looked up. ‘Liz always decks her out in lovely clothes, doesn’t she? Must have been a new dress, special for her party; I’ve never seen it before … Were her skates a present from Liz and Ian too?’
Amy nodded.
‘Beautiful pink leather. Must have cost them a fortune.’
‘I think they wanted to spoil her, as it’s a special one.’
Cecilia, smiling to herself, wasn’t listening. ‘D’you remember those skates we bought you?’
‘I’ve still got them.’ Amy had chosen a linen dress as pale as her mother’s hair. ‘How about this?’ She swished it around on its hanger, making it dance in a way her mother no longer could. ‘You look gorgeous in this.’
Cecilia looked down at her legs, at her flaccid, useless body. ‘Gorgeous – my lovely girl,’ she corrected, ‘is hardly a word one could apply to me, now is it?’
In a Laura Ashley dress the colour of a flower-filled meadow, Liz Fry circled the table she’d laid in readiness for Ellie’s birthday tea. Pleased with how wonderful it all looked, she went to fetch the camera from the bar to capture it in a Polaroid before the kids descended.
‘Oh, wow.’ Dean, still in his leathers, stopped wiping the tables to admire his stepmother. ‘You look great, Liz. Has Dad seen you?’
‘Thanks.’ She managed a smile as she searched between clean tea towels and boxes of crisps. ‘No, I’ve not seen him all morning. He’s been up to his eyes sorting out party games. You going to smarten yourself up a bit?’ She frowned, although not at him for a change, but at her inability to locate the Polaroid camera.
‘D’you need me, then? ’Cos I was thinking, once I’ve tidied up here—’
‘Dean ?’ Liz cut him off. ‘You seen the camera?’
‘The what?’ Dean didn’t look up from his wiping.
‘The camera. It’s missing.’
‘Don’t look at me,’ he said, immediately on the defensive. ‘I always put it back.’
‘Bugger.’ A transitory thought of the beautiful gold ring with its blue topaz Ian gave her last Christmas which she mistakenly left by the sink. Could the person who stole that have taken the camera too? It wasn’t a comfortable feeling to think they had a thief in the village. ‘I wanted to take a picture of the birthday cake.’
‘Shall I find Dad, ask if he’s seen it?’ Dean offered.
‘No, don’t worry him; he’s busy. It’s bound to turn up.’
Mrs Hooper wasn’t half as rude as Dora had been about Caroline’s hideous fringe, but Joanna could tell she thought it. Pulling faces behind her back as she tried to style it into some kind of shape.
‘Pain to be beautiful,’ she said whenever Caroline wriggled to get away.
She was without her cardigan for once – Caroline swore Dora had hidden it. The sisters had decided on the same outfits they wore for Derek Hooper’s funeral. Almost matching, their dresses – Joanna’s a pale apple green, Caroline’s a custard yellow – had necklines trimmed in cream velvet ribbon and short sleeves that showed off their sun-freckled arms.
The car park at the Boar’s Head was jam-packed. Slightly intimidated, Caroline and Joanna hung back to watch parents of Ellie’s schoolmates drop them off – a quick comb of hair, a handkerchief for the administration of last-minute spit washes, a reminder to collect the present for the birthday girl from the back seat – until Liz saw them and waved them over. She looked the loveliest either of them had ever seen, in her pretty patterned dress and matching lipstick.
‘Don’t be shy, come on.’ She scooped them against her hips, the slide of her dress against their bare arms: a gorgeous, perfumed, mother hen. And with a stroke of their hair, a little shove between their shoulder blades, Liz propelled them through a swing door of stuffed oxblood leather, and into a dark-panelled room neither recognised. They looked around, wide-eyed at the party streamers, the pink balloons, the goodie bags. The huge drawing of an animal with disproportionate ears Ian called Pin-the-Tail-on-the-Donkey . The table was heart-stopping too. Aside from the sequinned cloth, it offered up a spread of everything from egg and cress-covered rolls to bowls of crisps, and weenie sausages on sticks. And as a centrepiece, what must have been the largest pink birthday cake in the world.
‘It’s got ten candles,’ Joanna gasped, counting them up.
‘No shit,’ Caroline snapped, but not at Joanna – she was
worried about bumping into Dean, fearing his mockery at the mess she’d made of her hair. But he had it coming, the humiliation of seeing him smooching with Amy after what he’d promised, curdling to a hard-edged anger as she girdled the room.
‘That sounds fun.’ Joanna grinned when she heard Ian placate a grizzling child with news that a clown was on his way. ‘D’you hear that, Carrie? A clown .’
Caroline had to give it to her sister: despite her own grumpiness, Joanna’s optimism would not be dampened. And finding it from somewhere, she clasped her chubby hand in hers.
The minutes rolled on. More children spilled into the room. Decked out in party clothes, they milled about, looking for somewhere to dump the presents their parents chose and wrapped for them. But nowhere was appropriate. The sisters appreciated this without even looking. Clutching theirs, the wrapping paper sticky in their anxious fingers, they were reluctant to hand them over to anyone but Ellie. A small boy with a set of knees as scuffed as the toes of his sandals grew tired of waiting for the birthday girl, and reached for a golden-topped sausage roll. He put his greasy hand out for more, but Caroline smacked it away like a fly.
‘Where’s Ellie?’ someone asked. The observation triggered a low mumble that swelled through the room.
‘I’m not sure.’ Ian’s corrugated forehead beaded with sweat. ‘You girls seen her?’ He bent forward, whispered his whisky-breath into Joanna and Caroline’s hair. ‘The three of you go everywhere together.’
They shook their heads, watched him raise a hand to Ellie’s party guests as if to stop traffic.
‘Don’t worry, folks,’ he announced, his peanut-shaped head glistening with fresh perspiration. ‘She can’t have gone far. I’ll go and find out where she is.’ And he pitched from the room.
Trailing behind him, still carrying their presents, it was a relief for the sisters to distance themselves from the unblinking stares of Ellie’s school mates. They were back in the main bar, busy with regulars and a selection of villagers invited to celebrate Ellie’s special day – Dora, Mrs Hooper and Gordon not among them. No sign of the vicar and his pretty wheelchair-bound wife either, which was strange because Caroline knew they’d been invited.
‘Everything all right in there?’ Liz was slicing lemons.
‘Great. Yeah. Fab spread you’ve done, love … but, erm … ’ Ian hesitated. ‘You seen Ellie? She’s not in her bedroom. I can’t find her anywhere.’
‘Isn’t she back yet?’ Liz flicked her eyes to the clock above the bar.
‘Back from where?’ Ian, mid-reach for a shot of whisky, downed it in one.
‘She wanted to try out her new roller skates.’
‘That was hours ago.’ Ian reached for a second. Swallowed it. And with a neat little click, laid the glass on the counter. ‘She must’ve come home for something to eat? She can’t have been out all day?’
‘I’m sorry, Ian.’ Liz dried her hands on a cloth. ‘I skipped lunch myself; I’ve been rushed off my feet – sorting the food, the table … ’
‘But you must have seen her.’ Ian rubbed his earth-encrusted hands over his face and the girls wondered if he’d been digging the garden. ‘I’ve been sorting the games, restocking the bar.’
‘No, I haven’t – you know what she’s like on those things. She can’t have gone far, I told her not to leave the lane.’ The girls detected the merest fissure of anxiety in Liz’s voice.
‘I saw her,’ Caroline announced and, encouraged by the light in Liz’s eyes, added, ‘When I went to the shop for Dora.’
‘What time was this?’ Ian seized her firmly, spun her to face him.
‘Early. Half-nine.’ Caroline squirmed free of Ian and stepped away to stand with Joanna, their backs pressed to the Wall of Shame. ‘Ellie was with Dean in his motorbike shed. He was being really rough with her and shouting.’
‘Dean ?’ Liz leapt on the name. A flash of the little round bruises she saw on her daughter’s body from time to time – bruises Ellie dismissed as bumps from playing on her roller skates. ‘Rough with her ? D’you hear that, Ian?’ she shrieked. ‘Haven’t I always said it?’
‘But he wouldn’t hurt Ellie,’ Ian reasoned, visibly distressed by the suggestion being made.
‘You wouldn’t say that if you’d seen him,’ Caroline said, ignoring the questioning look Joanna was giving her.
‘What d’you mean?’ Liz, alarmed.
Caroline caught a slice of her reflection in the metallic sides of the till and gulped back tears that sprouted too easily. ‘He was being really horrible. Grabbing Ellie’s arms and shouting. I saw him shaking her too. He made her cry.’ She looked down, stared at her toes through the translucent pink of her jelly sandals.
‘Don’t you go getting upset, love. It isn’t your fault.’ Liz stepped from behind the bar, put a consoling arm around Caroline.
The contact, the feeling she could matter to another human being, made fat tears gather at the edge of Caroline’s large, dark eyes.
‘Did you hear what Dean was shouting at Ellie about?’
‘Something to do with his motorbike, I think.’ Caroline, missing her cardigan, wiped her nose on her wrist.
‘You’re not telling me he took her out on that ,’ Liz yelped. ‘I’ve told him it isn’t safe.’
‘No.’ Caroline shook her head. ‘Ellie skated off. Ever so fast.’
‘Did you see where she went?’ Liz, desperate to bring things back to her glaringly absent child.
‘Down Dead End Lane. Into the woods.’ Caroline’s story gathered strength around her. For the first time grown-ups were listening to what she had to say, she was of interest. Liking the attention, liking how they were poised for whatever she was to say next, spurred her on.
‘And Dean?’ Liz crouched beside her. ‘D’you see where he went?’ she coaxed.
‘Yes. Off on his motorbike.’ Caroline looked up through her wonky fringe and pushed the pain and embarrassment about Dean’s broken promise into his stepmother’s troubled expression.
‘Which way?’ Liz persisted.
Caroline knew Liz had no time for her stepson and wanted to please her by giving her what she thought she wanted to hear. ‘Same way as Ellie did,’ she said, forsaking her bitten nails to point in the direction of the woods with her wet finger ends.
Liz turned to Ian, who looked anxious. ‘Go and find that no-good son of yours. Find out why he was shouting at my daughter!’ Liz raised her voice for the first time; loud enough to make those nearest the bar flinch. ‘I’m going to look for Ellie – come on, girls, you can help me.’
‘Okay,’ Ian agreed. ‘Things can take care of themselves here for a minute. But please don’t worry, love, she’ll turn up; you know what she’s like … she’s always wandering off. Kid lives in a dream half the time.’ He reached out to reassure his wife, but she stiffened and pulled away.
‘Just go and ask your son.’ Liz gave him a look that knocked him back.
Ian slapped a grimy hand to his shiny head. ‘Right, yes. I’ll go and find him right away.’
‘God, Carrie – that’s horrible what Dean did to Ellie.’ Joanna at Caroline’s elbow, as they zoomed off in the direction Liz piloted them. ‘Did he hurt her bad?’
‘Yeah, he did.’
‘Why didn’t you tell me?’
Caroline shrugged. ‘But this morning you said you wanted Dean to kiss you and stuff.’ Joanna grimaced. ‘Why would you want him to do that if he could be so horrible to Ellie?’
‘’Cos I hadn’t seen him being horrible to her then, had I? Stupid.’
‘Did you really hear them shouting?’ Joanna, close to tears.
‘Course I did. You heard what I said.’
‘Yeah, but I never heard nothing.’
‘You weren’t there, though, were you?’ Caroline shot a sidelong glance at her sister. ‘You’d buggered off to Mrs Hooper’s.’
‘He’s gonna be in such trouble,’ Joanna whispered and slipped a tentative hand into her sister’s.<
br />
‘Good.’ A ghost of a smile. ‘He should be punished for what he did to me.’
They followed Liz. Clipping along on unaccustomed heels into the kitchen, she swapped her peep-toe shoes for the rubber boots kept by the door.
‘Perhaps she was so busy playing, she forgot her party,’ she said, half to herself, as she swept aside the fly screen and rushed out into the blistering sunshine.
Forgotten her party? It was all Ellie had gone on about, the sisters thought, staring at their friend’s abandoned little red wellingtons.
‘Come on, girls.’ Liz darted off towards her poultry patch. ‘She might be with the chickens. She’s like you, Jo, she loves my hens.’ An automatic smile. ‘Ellie … Ellie … ’ she shouted, then turned to the girls, a look of desperation in her eyes. ‘She has to be somewhere, she can’t have gone far.’
But Ellie was nowhere. And exhausting the beer garden and lane, calling her name as far as the crossroads, the gates of the church, the opening to the woods, the three of them returned to the pub to find Ian pacing the kitchen: a caged animal.
‘I don’t know where that son of mine is. I can’t find him anywhere.’ He wrung his hands in distress.
‘Is his bike there?’ Liz asked.
‘In the outhouse. Warm to the touch. He’s definitely been out on it today.’
‘I saw him in the bar about half-three,’ Liz said, suddenly remembering. ‘I was looking for the camera – I’ve forgotten what he said, but it didn’t sound like he was coming to the party.’
‘I don’t know what to do.’ Ian looked on the verge of tears.
‘I know what I’m doing.’ Liz reached for the telephone.
‘What?’
‘I’m ringing the bloody police.’
On their walk back from the pub, the sisters, doggedly clutching Ellie’s presents, saw that Pludd Cottage’s drive was empty. Watching from the lane, they also saw Mrs Hooper’s slender shadow moving around inside, and that the back door had been flung wide on to her beautiful, bird-filled garden. But despite there being no sign of Gordon, it still wasn’t enough to tempt Caroline to rap the brass fox knocker. To explain about Ellie being missing and her birthday party ending before it began was too hard.
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