by Penny Kline
Giving Justina a sympathetic smile, she pushed her feet into the heavy black shoes, then pulled the laces so tight her feet hurt. Two more weeks and it would be over. She could have just left and not come back, but for some stupid reason she wanted to give Don time to find somebody else. When he asked why, even wanted to know if he had done something to upset her, she had kept a straight face and told him she had another commitment, something she had to do at home on a Thursday evening.
‘One of your kiddies?’ he had asked, trying to conceal the annoyance he felt now he would have to find a new girl and train her up. ‘We’ll miss you, love, won’t find another as professional as you.’
She hadn’t laughed, hadn’t even felt like laughing, just smiled as she pinned the grey wig in place and adjusted the waistband on her thick tweed skirt.
‘Thanks, I’ll miss you too, Don.’ And the strange thing about it, she even meant it a bit.
Chapter Seventeen
As far as I could remember it was only the second time Heather had buzzed when I had a client with me. The first time, a few months back, a girl I had seen earlier in the day had climbed to the top of Cabot Tower and was threatening to jump. I hoped this was something less dramatic.
‘I’m sorry,’ she said, ‘I’ve tried to persuade him to leave a message but he insists he has to talk to you straight away. It’s Eric Newsom.’
‘All right, I’ll take it.’ I gave my client — a prison officer who suffered from panic attacks — an apologetic smile and he stood up, offering to leave the room, then returned to his chair when I held up my hand.
When Heather put me through the call seemed to come from somewhere with a high ceiling, where voices echoed and banging doors reverberated.
‘Eric?’
‘Oh, at last. I’ve no more coins so don’t interrupt. I need you to pick Charlie up from school.’
‘No I can’t, I’m seeing someone at four. Where are you?’
‘Police station. Maltby’s had another tip-off. Someone told him I threatened to kill Shaun Cunliffe. I can’t ask my mother. If I told her where I was she’d —’
‘All right, I suppose there’s no choice. What shall I tell him?’
‘Oh God, I don’t know, you’ll think of something. The money’s running out, I’ll have to go. Tell him it’s to do with my work.’
No use asking what time he would be back.
Later, when I put my head round Heather’s door to let her know I was leaving, she said another call had come through.
‘From Eric?’
‘No, someone called Ronnie. She left a number for you to ring back but it didn’t sound that urgent, I expect tomorrow would do.’
I glanced at the office clock. ‘Can you find her for me, please. Did you give the Langfords another appointment?’
‘Yes, no problem, I’ve booked them in for Monday at two-fifteen. Mr Langford sounded as if he’d been given a reprieve.’ She handed me the phone.
‘Ronnie?’ I could hear the clatter of keyboards, someone calling out an instruction to print six more copies.
‘I saw you,’ she said.
‘Oh.’ It was the last thing I was expecting her to say. ‘Yes, I know, I’m sorry.’ Why was I apologising? Just because Ronnie had been with a man? ‘I’d been shopping, I was passing close by, thought I’d have a look at the place where Nikki worked.’
‘I’ve told you everything I know.’
‘Yes, I’m sure. Look, you don’t honestly think I was there to spy on you. Why on earth would I want to do that?’
Heather was pulling faces, tapping her watch.
‘Ronnie? Are you still there?’
‘If my mother found out about Eammon her chest pains would come back and I’d have to take unpaid leave.’
‘Eammon’s the man I saw you with? Of course your mother’s not going to find out, well, certainly not from me. Anyway you shouldn’t let her blackmail you like that.’
‘She’s always been terrified I’d leave her, even when Dad was alive.’ The indignation in her voice had been replaced by a kind of resigned despair. I was sorry for her but now was not the best time to discuss her relationship with her mother.
‘You’ve met her,’ she was saying, ‘you know what’s she like. Normally I only see Eammon at lunchtime, and one evening a week, but he’s been away on business. I told Mum I was learning Greek, at an evening class. She thinks by the time I take her on holiday I’ll be fluent.’
‘No, she doesn’t. She mentioned your class and I got the impression a holiday in Greece was the last thing she wanted.’
‘Really? Oh well, I suppose that’s something. Anyway, I’m sorry if I sounded a bit short and it’s not the only reason I rang. I forgot to mention it before but Nikki used to go to a health club, in her lunch hour. I suppose she could have met people. I don’t know if it’s of any interest.’
‘Could be. Thanks. Near the office is it?’ I remembered how Faye had said Deborah attended a health club. Perhaps it was the same one.
‘Just round the corner. She was one of those people who keep having crazes for things. Astrology, self-hypnosis, acupuncture, you name it, she’d take it up then drop it a couple of weeks later. The health club lasted longer.’
‘Did she go on her own or with other people from the office?’
‘No one from here.’ A phone was ringing close by. Any minute now and she was going to ring off.
‘Just before you go, Ronnie, did you ever hear her talking about someone called Llewellyn?’
‘You mean at the club?’
‘No, I shouldn’t think so. Someone who sold tickets — for pop concerts, shows that were supposed to be sold out.’
‘Doesn’t ring a bell.’
‘What about a Deborah? Did she talk about —’
‘Deborah from the toyshop?’ Ronnie groaned. ‘She used to go on about her all the time, how fantastic-looking she was, how sexy, how she wished she had a figure like Deborah’s. Quite honestly we all got a bit sick of hearing about her.’
*
A coach had broken down, blocking the road so traffic was reduced to a single lane. I turned left, hoping to find a short cut, but since I was unfamiliar with the area there was always a risk it would take me even longer to reach Charlie’s school. It would be all right, teachers never left until all the children had been collected. I would apologise profusely, then make up some story about Eric’s van breaking down and how he had been forced to phone me at the last minute. Weaving my way through a council estate, then a network of roads that were obviously owner-occupied, I turned left again and ended up in a cul-de-sac where a woman was painting her gate.
‘The Wells Road,’ I said, leaning out of my window, ‘what’s the quickest way to get through?’
She straightened up, pushing back her hair with her arm and pointing in the direction I had come from.
‘There’s a traffic jam,’ I said.
‘Always is. If you go back down this road, then turn right up the hill to Blenheim Gardens. After that you can follow the bus stops, only don’t take the short cut past the church — they’ve blocked the route to the main road to stop all those lorries.’
Twelve minutes later I pulled up on the jagged No Parking lines outside the school entrance. The playground was empty. Charlie must be inside, keeping warm. When I opened the outer door it squeaked loudly but no one came out of any of the classrooms.
‘Hullo?’ My voice echoed in the corridor. ‘Is anyone there?’ Banging noises were coming from round a corner, then a cleaner appeared, dragging a heavy floor polisher.
‘I’m looking for Mrs Chambers,’ I said, ‘or any of the other teachers. If a child was waiting to be picked up where would I find him?’
‘The teachers are having a meeting.’ She pointed up the stairs. ‘Third door on the right.’
‘Thanks.’ In a moment or two everything would be all right. A teacher would take me to where Charlie was waiting, or Eric would have been ‘released’ from p
olice custody sooner than expected but by the time he phoned Heather I had already left. At this very moment the two of them were arriving home, oblivious of the fact that I was frantic with worry. Opening the third door I met with a sudden silence as whoever was talking stopped in mid-sentence and all heads turned to see who it was.
‘Charlie Newsom,’ I struggled to keep my voice steady, ‘where is he?’
‘Charlie?’ The woman I recognised as his class teacher pushed back her chair and rushed across to where I was standing. ‘He left about ten minutes ago. His auntie came to pick him up.’
‘He hasn’t got an aunt. How d’you know it was his aunt?’
Her lips were trembling. She was as frightened as I was. ‘He knew her, I could tell from his face. He left perfectly happily, he was holding her hand.’
Another teacher, who I took to be the headmistress, had joined us. ‘Look, I’m sure there’s some simple explanation. Charlie’s father must have asked a friend to collect him. He’s such a sensible boy, he’d never go off with a stranger. You’re a relative are you?’
‘Yes. No. I live next door. What did she look like, this woman?’
Mrs Chambers had difficulty speaking. ‘Thin, slightly built, about nineteen or twenty.’
‘Clothes?’
‘Clothes? No, wait, let me think, she was wearing a purple jacket, an anorak, one of those old ones with braid either side of the zip.’
*
I had given the police as much information as I could, now I was on my way to find Janice. A policewoman had been sent to the address in Brislington but Lianne would never have taken Charlie back there. Then it occurred to me that Janice could have been with Lianne, waiting round the corner, perhaps in a car, that the two of them could have planned it together. Why?
Eric was in a police car, touring the area. I thought about Lianne, standing in the car park, swollen-eyed, fiddling with the zip on her awful purple anorak. Then I remembered how she had exchanged a few words with Charlie as she closed the window above his head, and later, at the end of the seminar, given him a sweet and been exaggeratedly grateful when he presented her with one of his drawings. Lovely looking, isn’t he. I love kids, specially this age. No wonder Charlie had believed her when she told him she had been asked to collect him from school. It was my fault for taking him to the seminar. No, it was Eric’s fault for forcing me into a situation where I had no other choice.
Three students were standing by the college noticeboard, reading a poster about a forthcoming pop concert. A girl with long fair hair gave one of the boys a playful punch and he fell back, clutching his stomach, then the three of them saw my face and fell silent.
‘Do any of you know Janice Kirk? Have you seen her? D’you know where she is?’
No one did. A fat boy with a dirty Greenpeace T-shirt said he thought he might have seen her in the canteen but that had been two hours ago. I thanked him for the useless information then started running towards the office to check the first-year timetable.
‘Quick, it’s important. Janice Kirk, where’s she likely to be?’
‘She’s a first year?’ The secretary took an absurdly long time to look up Janice’s courses. ‘Nothing timetabled for her at the moment,’ she said at last. ‘Have you tried the library?’
Halfway up the stairs I slipped and had to grab hold of the rail. Steve Harrison was coming down. ‘Hey, what’s the rush?’ He picked up the car keys that had dropped from my hand.
‘Charlie,’ I said. ‘Lianne Fraser collected him from school. No one knows where they are.’
‘Lianne Fraser?’ It took him a moment to remember who she was. ‘I don’t understand. Why would she want to … How d’you know it was —’
‘His teacher’s description. A purple anorak with braid.’
‘Calm down,’ he said, handing back my keys, ‘there must have been some mix-up. Have you told the police?’
Janice was standing at the top of the stairs, balancing a pile of books against her chest. When I shouted her name she descended slowly, carefully, glaring as if she was waiting to be told off.
‘If the librarian’s complained about me it was all a mistake. How was I to know we had to —’
‘Where’s Lianne?’ I said.
‘Lianne? She had a migraine, went home ages ago.’
‘You must come with me.’
‘Where? What for?’ The books began to slide from her grip. I caught two of them and Steve collected the rest.
‘Not now. I’ll tell you in the car,’ I took hold of her arm and dragged her along the corridor. ‘Quick, she’s got Charlie.’
*
‘She’d never hurt him,’ said Janice, leaning forward to open the glove compartment, inspect its contents, then click it shut again, ‘she loves kids. Anyway, the police will have found them by now.’
‘Oh, for God’s sake.’ Her detached, unconcerned voice was driving me mad. ‘You sound as if what she’s done is perfectly reasonable. In any case, we don’t even know for sure it was Lianne.’
‘It will be,’ she said flatly.
‘Why? Why do say that? Could she have got hold of a car? I once saw her standing next to a van.’
‘Listen, slow down, you’re scaring the pants off me. We have to keep calm, use our heads. I’ll have a think where she might’ve taken him. You see, it’s because of Eric Newsom. She thinks he killed Shaun.’
‘Shaun?’ It took a second to grasp what she was saying.
‘Shaun Cunliffe, the bloke that got knifed in Fishponds Road. Lianne was going to move in with him, get married at Christmas. It was going to be a dream come true.’
‘Why didn’t you tell me before?’
Janice sniffed. ‘It wouldn’t have been fair.’
‘No, I mean now, today, when we were at the college.’
The lights had changed to red but what difference did it make. By now Charlie could be miles away, on the train to London, a coach to Birmingham, anywhere.
‘There’s a phone box over there.’ Janice pointed across the road. ‘Stop on the yellow line and I’ll keep a watch for traffic wardens. Best to check with the Old Bill — they’ve probably found them both by now.’
There were three options. The police would have no news. Charlie would have been found, safe and sound. Or he would be dead. I had no idea who I was speaking to but whoever it was seemed familiar with my name. ‘I think you’d better come to the station.’ he said.
‘Why? What’s happened? Tell me what’s happened?’
‘We have Miss Fraser in custody,’ said the voice. ‘She stole a car, then ran it into a hedge near the old people’s home on the A4 going out towards Bath.’
‘What about Charlie?”
‘He wasn’t in the car when our officers reached the scene of the accident. As far as we can tell he must have run off somewhere. Mr Newsom’s been taken back to his house in case the boy returns home on his own, which seems the most likely option, and in the meantime some of our officers are out looking for him.’
‘You know for certain Charlie was in the car?’
‘That’s what Miss Fraser told us. She had a bump on the head but the vehicle was hardly damaged. If the boy ran off I don’t imagine he could have sustained a serious injury, and he can’t have gone far.’
When I returned to the car Janice was studying the street map. I told her what had happened and she gave a brief nod as if she had known all along how things would turn out. Then she asked if I thought Charlie would be able to find his way home.
‘From the A4 beyond Brislington?’
‘But he’d know which direction to start walking. Someone’ll spot him, a little kid like that. Anyway, for a start you should phone his father. Not much point us going round in circles if he’s already back.’ She jabbed a finger in the direction of the phone box. ‘Go on then, what you waiting for?’
Eric snatched up the phone and I felt bad having to tell him I had no news and was just checking to see if Charlie was there.
‘No, of course not,’ he said angrily, ‘there wouldn’t have been time. He could be injured, have a cracked skull, anything. What the hell were you doing. I was —’
‘Someone would have found him by now if he’d been badly hurt.’
‘You don’t know that. You don’t know anything.’ Fear had made him vindictive. ‘If you’d reached the school at three-thirty like I asked you. Anyway, where are you?’
‘In a call box. With Janice, the student who shares a flat with Lianne.’
‘What’s she told you? What’s she said?’ He was yelling so loud I had to move the receiver away from my ear.
‘Look, don’t worry, he’ll be all right, I know he will.’
‘Ring off,’ he roared, ‘the police may be trying to get through. Just bloody ring off now.’
Back in the car Janice had the Bristol and Bath street map and was tracing a route with her finger. ‘You know Charlie,’ she said, ‘what would he do, find someone and ask for help or just start walking?’
I took the map from her knees. ‘I think he’d have spoken to someone, a woman, someone he liked the look of, thought he could trust.’
A woman? He had trusted Lianne and look where that had got him. Would he have stuck to the main road, back towards the city centre, or turned left opposite Macdonald’s, cut off the corner and joined the Wells Road at Hengrove? There were so many streets to cross, so much traffic. I should have asked what time the crash had taken place but, in any case, the police would have covered all the main routes by now. Supposing his head had hit the windscreen and concussion had distorted his thinking. Supposing he had crossed the fields towards the river. Once, when my brother was about ten or eleven he had fallen off a horse, then later that same afternoon gone out to the shops and bought my mother three pounds of potatoes and two tins of cat food that she had never asked for, convinced she would be angry if he came home without them. At the time I had thought it was funny.
‘Cat food,’ I screamed, starting up the engine, and pulling away from the kerb. ‘It’s only a chance, Janice, but I’ve had an idea.’