by Alice Castle
‘That sounds grim, it really does. Have you tried to win her over?’
Babs said, through gritted teeth, ‘I’ve tried everything. Girly chats, shopping trips, craft projects. I even took up knitting so I could teach her! She said she wanted to try. Then, when I’d spent three weeks mastering casting on, she told her dad – not me – that she’d much rather ask her mum. And that was that. I’ve still got the sodding knitting needles cluttering the place up.’
Beth looked at her, full of sympathy. It did sound crushing. ‘You need to spend a bit less time with her.’
‘Tell me about it! But Jen seems to have just dumped her on Tim. Weeks, this has been going on for. I don’t know what the hell is happening, I really don’t.’
Beth felt prickles of unease again. ‘You mean you haven’t seen Jen? Not at all? When was the last time she was around?’
‘I never see her, so I don’t really know. She’s always steered clear of me, for obvious reasons. Hates me. Detests me. Can’t stand me. Well, like mother, like daughter, I suppose,’ said Babs, looking suddenly defeated. If ever someone was reaping what they’d sown, it was Babs, thought Beth.
‘Don’t you think this is odd, though?’ Beth asked.
‘You’d have to ask Tim, if you want the nitty-gritty. As far as I’m concerned, it looks like she’s just done a runner. Decided her evil little kid is the devil’s spawn and taken off for good. Heaven knows, I would if I could,’ Babs added.
Suddenly, there was a scuffle out in the hall. Beth shot out of her chair, and got to the kitchen door, just in time to see a flash of blue as Jess scarpered up the stairs as quickly as her little legs would take her.
‘Christ, that’s really gone and done it,’ said Babs, half-rising from her chair. She looked stricken. If she’d seemed miserable before, it was nothing to the way she was now. Beth plonked herself back down again and tried to cheer Babs up, though it looked a task as insurmountable as skate-boarding up Sydenham Hill, from where she was sitting.
‘Look, let’s just settle down here for a bit. I’ll make some more tea. We don’t know for sure if she even heard anything. I’ll go up in a few minutes and see how the land lies.’
‘Thank you,’ said Babs, her eyes brimming again. ‘You’re a real friend. I wasn’t expecting to like you. I thought you’d be like her… you know, Jen. But you’re a good person. I’m really sorry.’
‘Sorry? About what?’ said Beth.
‘Oh, you know… everything, really,’ said Babs, a little strangely.
Sitting across the table from the person who’d wrecked the life of a woman she really liked and admired, Beth realised – not for the first time – that things in this world could get complicated. Helping Babs was not top of her to-do list. Though she felt for the woman, Babs’s predicament was, to some extent, self-inflicted. Hurt children lashed out where they could, and were better than heat-seeking missiles at finding the right spots to target. Jess was doing an exquisite job at torturing Babs, far better than any water-boarding rendition expert any day. But if Beth could do anything to make Jess feel happier, then her relationship with Babs was bound to improve as well, and that would cheer things up for everyone around her, including, Beth fervently hoped, her elusive mother, Jen.
‘Look, have you just tried saying to Jess, you’re sorry her mum’s not around, you’re not trying to take her place, but you’d just like to be friends?’
‘Do you think that would work?’ Babs’s eyes were, again, as full of tremulous hope as a kitten’s.
‘Well, it’s not going to be a magic wand, that’s for sure. Nothing’s going to be instant. But at least you’d be on an honest footing. It strikes me that both of you are quite angry, about different things, and pretending you’re not isn’t getting anyone anywhere,’ said Beth.
As she took her own cup to the sink, rinsed it quickly, and flicked the switch on the kettle, Beth wondered. Were the two of them actually furious about the same thing? Jen’s disappearance was at the bottom of both Jess’s pain and Babs’s strange sense of disgruntlement. Finding her was going to answer a lot of questions. Maybe it was time that Beth really got down to working out what was going on. In the meantime, she got the milk out of the fridge, fished the teabags out of the mugs, rinsed the spoon, and then ran her hands down her jeans again. She really must get a proper towel, or at least put the tea towel somewhere where she could actually find it. Then she braced herself to talk to Jess.
She slid a refill of tea over to Babs and, somewhat wearily, climbed the stairs. All this drama was a bit much, and her head ached a little. Ben’s door was firmly shut. She knocked, then tried the handle. To her surprise, it wouldn’t give. She realised there had to be little hands grasping it on the other side of the door, holding it closed. No prizes for guessing who.
‘Ben, I need to talk to Jess, can you ask her to come away from the door, please?’ Beth used her no-nonsense tone, and wasn’t surprised when a muffled sound of argy-bargy from within signalled that someone had been bodily removed from the doorway. She opened the door, and peered round.
Ben burst out immediately. ‘I’m, um, just going…’ He clattered down the stairs, caught sight of Babs in the kitchen, and wheeled immediately into the sitting room. A few seconds later, Beth heard the theme tune of one of his beloved PlayStation games. Hmm, unauthorised screen time; he was pushing it. But, like all males, he’d use any tactics at his disposal to get out of a good old heart-to-heart. Beth sympathised with him entirely. She didn’t much like them herself.
Careful to keep herself in the doorway, in case Jess should try to make a bolt for freedom, too, she smiled at the girl. She was sitting on the corner of Ben’s bed, head resolutely turned away from her.
‘Look, I don’t know what you overheard downstairs. All I know is that Babs is a bit worried about you. She says she thinks you’re really missing your mum.’
At this, Jess’s head shot up and she risked a quick glance at Beth. This wasn’t the ferocious telling-off she’d expected.
‘Would you like me to have a word with your dad about it, when I next see him?’ Beth asked. She had a sneaking feeling that offering to ring him, right there and then, would convince Jess that something was awry, and that was the last thing she wanted to do. The girl was already seriously discombobulated, hurt at her mother’s continuing absence. She didn’t need to be worrying about where on earth she was into the bargain.
Jess risked a glance at Beth again, and nodded her head just once.
‘Ok, then,’ said Beth. She gingerly moved forward, sat down next to Jess on Ben’s star-printed duvet, and risked putting a hand on the girl’s shoulder. God knows, she wasn’t into constant tactile displays, but she could tell when a child needed a hug. As she’d expected, Jess turned instantly and burrowed into her. Beth put her arms round the girl, rested her chin on her soft dark hair, and stared unseeingly ahead, deep in thought. Oh, Jen. Where are you, when your baby needs you?
Chapter Twelve
It would be too much to say that she’d effected a rapprochement between Babs and Jess, but as she sat in her swivel chair at the Research Institute at Wyatt’s, Beth did allow herself a little pat on the back. The two had gone off together, hand-in-hand; both with their tears dried, thank goodness. Babs’s wobbly smile at the front door had been full of gratitude. Beth just hoped it was warranted. There was no point in hoping that Jess would suddenly love spending time with Babs. Her stepmother was always going to be a poor second best to her mum. But the girl might be reconciled to life at Tim’s house, if someone set a proper limit on her visits so she could share her time reasonably equally between her parents. And that seemed to be problematic, for reasons that neither Jess, Beth, or even apparently Babs really understood.
This morning, Beth’d managed, accidentally on purpose, to give Tim a miss. Although she knew she had to get on to him soon and sort out what on earth he knew about Jen’s whereabouts, she was getting a bit sick of being in the middle of that family’s pr
oblems. Her own were complicated enough.
With all the hoo-ha last night, the gloss had rather come off her twinkly encounter in the hallway with York. But that wasn’t to say she’d forgotten all about it. It was still a treasured moment, keeping her warm, bringing a secret little smile to her face right now, as she sat in her swivel chair.
Unfortunately, that was the moment when Janice chose to pop her head round the door. One second was all it took for her to diagnose the difference in her friend.
‘That’s a sex look!’ Janice announced loudly, advancing into the room bump-first with an avid look on her face. ‘You’ve been doing some dating. And you’ve had a result!’
Beth immediately sat up straight in her padded chair, feeling as guilty as a schoolgirl caught behind the bike sheds. ‘What? What on earth do you mean?’
‘You can’t fool me,’ said Janice, lowering herself carefully into the chair facing Beth’s sweeping mahogany desk. ‘You’ve met someone and you were thinking about him just now. Don’t tell me you weren’t.’
One part of Beth admired Janice’s shrewdness, and wondered for the umpteenth time why she wasn’t working for MI5 instead of the school. She had no need of truth serum, thumb screws, even simple interrogation. The other part cursed her soundly.
‘I don’t know what you mean. I was just thinking about the exhibition I’m putting together. It’s going to be a corker…’
Janice snorted. ‘No woman, ever, looked like that because of an exhibition. Unless it was a man, making an exhibition of himself. Come on, you might as well tell me. You know I’m going to get it out of you sooner or later.’
Beth pondered. There was a lot of truth in what Janice said. Beth was no match for her. But, on the other hand, what had happened between her and York in the hallway was such small beer that Janice would only laugh again. And she wasn’t sure that she could bear that. It would be as savage as a bucket of freezing cold water poured on all her poor little dreams. No, she needed to keep this to herself. For as long as she could, anyway.
Besides, she hadn’t heard from York since that night, apart from that no-frills note about where he’d parked her car. Granted, it wasn’t exactly a long time ago. But still. Surely he could have rung, just to check on her? Or even texted? She had had a head injury, for heaven’s sake.
‘It’s really nothing, Janice. You know I’d tell you if it was important,’ Beth said, the pleading in her eyes unmistakable. Janice sighed, obviously thinking the better of whatever line of questioning she’d had queued up. It would keep.
‘How are you feeling, anyway? Should you be back at work already?’
‘I’m fine, thank you. The bandage just fell off of its own accord, the bump’s completely gone down. All the bruising must be covered up by my hair, thank goodness, otherwise I’d be black and blue. My back’s a bit sore, too. Everything is tender if I prod it… but I won’t,’ said Beth, before Janice could remonstrate. ‘They said I was lucky. A few inches higher and the head injury could have been, well, really nasty.’
‘Sounds nasty enough to me already. And have they caught who did it?’
‘No. Looks like there’s no hope of that.’
‘Where was it again?’
‘Outside my friend’s house, in Camberwell,’ said Beth, seeing Janice’s face change. ‘Don’t look like that, there’s nothing wrong with the place.’
‘I’m just saying. Wouldn’t have happened here in Dulwich, would it?’
‘Worse things can happen in Dulwich, as we know, Janice,’ said Beth, a little crossly. Maybe she was still feeling weak. She was very tired all of a sudden.
Janice seemed to get the hint, levering herself out of the chair and managing the feat of waddling with grace as she let herself out of the room. ‘Lunch with the girls?’ she asked, before disappearing like the Cheshire Cat, leaving only her smile and a bit of fluff from her cashmere behind her.
Lunch with the girls was the last thing Beth needed, she thought. They’d be agog to know her adventures on Tinder, and would be mortally disappointed, and equally condemnatory, when she had to reveal she was getting nowhere fast. But maybe she should press on with it? Maybe what she’d felt in the hallway had been just a bit of silliness? She had no idea whether York felt the same, or whether he kissed all his suspects and collaborators, not that she was exactly either one or the other this time. Perhaps that was the problem. She wasn’t his sidekick, that was for sure, and they didn’t really have an official investigation on the go at the moment, either.
Beth sat up again. Maybe that’s what needed to happen. She had to up the status of her current obsession with Jen’s disappearance, to make it official business. That way she would make some progress with it at last – and maybe, she blushed as she even thought it, make some progress on the other front as well.
She’d started to Google missing persons, wondering if it always had to be a relative who logged their concern, when she realised it was a big waste of time. Why bother dipping her toe into the murk of the Internet, when she had the crystal clear source of all police information available to her? She picked up her phone and scrolled to York’s number. Then hesitated. Was she being terminally uncool? Would this somehow count as pursuing him? Should she play hard to get, wait for him to get in touch with her? Weren’t there rules about this? A three-day thing… Yes, but surely that was when you were actually dating someone, Beth told herself. A kiss on the cheek hardly counted as a full-blown romantic encounter. She was being extremely silly. And anyway, her friend’s disappearance outweighed any paltry considerations about who looked as though they were stalking whom. Didn’t it?
She still hesitated for a minute more, before girding her loins and pressing the button. Instantly, she wished she hadn’t – but it was too late. Then, inevitably, as her heart started pounding, listening to the ringing tone, the phone clicked off into voicemail and she felt a huge disappointment engulf her. Should she leave a message? Quite a few people didn’t even bother listening to them now, preferring texts if they were busy. She hummed and dithered, then realised it was all being recorded, and snapped the red button to cut the call.
Well, that had been pointless. She now felt thoroughly flustered – certainly too much so to settle down to any real work. She gathered her bag crossly and trudged over to the staff restaurant, to grab a coffee and a plate of sandwiches. She’d bring them back to her desk, that way neatly avoiding the third degree from Janice and her cohorts. She loved them to bits but she just wasn’t up to explaining all the delicate nuances of a fleeting collision of lips and cheek, and how much that had meant to her. She could just imagine the torrents of derision that would greet her nascent hopes, and she couldn’t bear it. It was something that those with simpler lives were never going to understand, and almost certainly would feel no sympathy with either.
***
Janice, looking out of her window and seeing Beth trooping back to her office a few minutes later with a bulging bag, noticed the dejected droop of her friend’s shoulders and wondered what on earth had caused her to crash from excitement to despair so quickly. Or rather, who on earth? If Janice’s years of experience told her anything, it was that only a man could play havoc with a woman’s emotions so quickly. Oooh!
Just then, she felt a little kick. Her hands crossed protectively over her bump. Yet another sign that she had a boy on board. She and her husband – and how she still loved the comforting, oh-so-respectable sound of those two hard-won words – had decided not to find out the sex of their baby. There were few moments in life, Dr Grover had said, when both options could produce equal delight, and Janice had outwardly agreed. But it wasn’t going to be a surprise for her. From the way the baby kept her up all night, with no consideration for anything but its own convenience, pressing on her bladder, kicking her in what she was pretty sure equated to her goolies, complaining when she lay flat, and hating it even more when she stayed bolt upright, she was more than two hundred per cent sure it was a boy. Another litt
le Dr Grover in the making. As long as he had his daddy’s wit and charm. Oh, he’d be a heartbreaker, for sure. She couldn’t wait to meet him.
But Beth, though. She deserved to feel as happy as Janice did right now. And if Janice had anything to do with it, she’d make sure she did. Just leave it to her. With a seraphic smile, she drew her phone to her and made a quick call. There. That was settled. Now all Beth had to do was thank her. Once she’d thrown her bridal bouquet into the air and set off for her honeymoon with a ring on her pretty little finger, that was.
***
York peeled off the thin latex gloves and leant against the front door of the little flat in Camberwell, taking some very welcome breaths of cold November air. They were at one of the few high-rises in the area. Built to be communities in the sky in the 1960s, they’d rapidly become vertical rabbit hutches, storing their human cargo in separate, isolated units, with catastrophic effects like those he’d just seen. Poor old lady. She’d been someone’s mum, someone’s gran – that was clear from the framed photos proudly displayed on her dusty sideboard. But somehow, somewhere, those relationships had faltered, and the old woman had died alone. Quite a long time ago.
York hated these G5 calls, as they were known. It was never good news when neighbours started complaining about the smell of drains. If only these self-same neighbours were equally ready to stir themselves before things got to the whiffy stage. If they popped in, once in a while, to see how the elderly folk around them were doing, the police wouldn’t be faced with such ghastly sights. But of course, they were all busy, just like him. There were probably old biddies in his own road who could do with a visit now and then, and he’d never even seen them, let alone thought to do a bit of shopping for them.