Missing (30 page)

Though Caroline flinched, her tone was still scathing as she said, ‘You don’t come round here giving orders …’

‘Oh yes, I do. You owe me for this, and now you’re going to pay. Everyone out there thinks Rufus is with me, and you’re going to play along by letting them think it too, at least for the next hour. By then I’ll be long gone, in your car, and I’ll leave you mine.’

Caroline blinked in confusion.

‘Keys,’ Vivienne demanded, holding out her hand.

‘What the hell makes you think—’

‘Give me the damned keys. I take it your car’s in its usual place, out the back?’

‘Yes, it is, and that’s where it’s going to stay.’

‘Here, take mine,’ Roger said, coming into the room and fishing a set of keys out of his trouser pocket.

Vivienne looked at him, and despite her anger felt
her
heart stir with pity. Her brother-in-law had been an extremely handsome man once, full of confidence and always smiling. Now he was little more than a pathetic shadow of his former self, with bloated features, bloodshot eyes and a personal odour that reeked of booze.

‘I’ve been banned,’ he told her, ‘so it’s no use to me, and it’s insured for anyone to drive. We did that so anyone could drive me home.’

Feeling wretched for him, Vivienne took the keys and squeezed his shaking hand. ‘Please get yourself some help,’ she whispered, as she brushed a kiss to his stubbly cheek.

‘If it’s any consolation,’ he said, turning after her, ‘I feel bad about telling Justine.’

Knowing he meant it, Vivienne gave him a reassuring smile. There was no point trying to make him feel any worse, it was done now, so there was no going back. ‘Thanks for the car,’ she said.

‘It’s in the second garage at the end of the lane,’ he told her. ‘The key’s on the ring.’

Half an hour later Vivienne was back at her mother’s with Roger’s battered Polo parked outside, and so far no sign of the press having followed her. She wouldn’t have much time though, she needed to be gone from here, with Rufus, before they got wise to her ploy and came back again.

‘Vivi, are you sure about this?’ her mother was saying, as she came in from loading up the car. ‘You don’t have to take him now. I mean, I’m not going anywhere yet, and he might be better off staying here until everything blows over.’

Hefting a box of Rufus’s toys up into her arms, Vivienne looked at Linda over the top of them. ‘He’ll
be
fine with me,’ she told her. ‘I’m his mother, for heaven’s sake …’

‘I know, I know, it’s just that I can’t help worrying, especially now—’

‘I should think the fact they’ve found Jacqueline’s clothes would make you a lot less worried,’ Vivienne cut in, sounding much snappier than she intended.

‘I didn’t mean that. I just … Oh dear, I don’t feel right about this, Vivi. Maybe if Miles had called …’

‘Well, he hasn’t. Now, please make yourself useful and bring the other box out to the car.’

As she walked swiftly down the garden path she couldn’t help wondering how many of the neighbours might be watching. They obviously knew by now that Linda Kane was the infamous Vivienne’s mother, which made ‘dear little Rufus’ (as the woman next door had dotingly called him the day before as though he were in some way afflicted), the living, breathing son of the suspected uxoricide Miles Avery. She couldn’t remember now which of the Sundays had used such a ludicrously pompous word, when wife-murderer would have made the point much more potently. In the end she’d tossed every one of the papers into the bin, unable to stand the scurrilous, hand-rubbing glee that seemed to permeate every word.

‘Here,’ her mother said, coming out to hand her another box, ‘I’m not sure where you’re going to put it …’

‘I can always come back next weekend for more,’ Vivienne told her. ‘I’ll just take the important stuff for now.’

Linda was still looking as miserable as she obviously felt. ‘I wish you’d reconsider,’ she said. ‘Caroline shouldn’t have said what she did …’

‘Mum, look at you,’ Vivienne said, glancing over her shoulder and trying to keep her voice down. ‘You’ve been a nervous wreck ever since that detective came, and the press being out here all day has made you worse.’

Linda’s complexion turned even paler.

‘Go to Italy with David,’ Vivienne said firmly. ‘When are you supposed to leave?’

‘Nothing’s actually booked yet,’ Linda replied, ‘but he wants to go soon, he says.’

Feeling too many eyes watching them, Vivienne linked her arm and began walking her up the path. ‘Get out of here for a while,’ she said. ‘It’ll be much easier for you, and frankly for me too. I won’t have to worry about anyone harassing or stressing you.’

‘But how am I going to stop worrying about you?’ Linda wanted to know. ‘And you,’ she added, her face softening with love as a bleary-eyed Rufus came crawling out of the sitting room to find them.

‘Mum mum,’ he said, treating them to a toothy grin.

Vivienne’s heart folded at how happy he always seemed. Please God it would stay that way once he was away from her mother.

‘You’re going to be a good boy for Mummy, aren’t you?’ Linda smiled tearfully as she swung him up in her arms. ‘You’re going to show her how clever you are, and how …’ Her voice wavered and she swallowed. ‘I’m going to miss you, sweetheart,’ she said hoarsely into his neck.

‘Mum, don’t,’ Vivienne protested, as a lump rose in her throat. ‘You’re making it sound as though this is the last time you’ll see him.’

Linda’s watery eyes came to hers. ‘I feel so afraid, Vivi,’ she confessed in a whisper.

Irritation flashed like a pain in Vivienne’s brain. ‘What of?’ she snapped angrily. ‘If Jacqueline’s dead, which is what everyone seems to think, then there’s no reason to be, is there?’

Linda shook her head, but the anguish didn’t fade from her eyes, and Vivienne was still haunted by it an hour and a half later as she steered the Polo into Thames Street towards home.

All the street lamps were on by now, and she noticed several cars parked outside the City Barge as she passed. There didn’t seem to be anyone around though, not even a dog-walker, or anyone on their way to the pub. For some odd reason she started to find the darkness between the street lamps unnerving, as though someone might be standing in the shadows watching her drive by.

Glancing in the rear-view mirror to where Rufus was asleep in his car seat, she felt around the passenger seat for the garage remote and indicated to start pulling in. As the up-and-over door yawned open it let a flood of light into the street that fell over the car like a beacon. A moment later it was as though the light had gone mad as it began flicking and flashing, blinding her with its brightness, dazzling her with its glare.

She wasn’t sure how many photographers had lain in wait, because they’d gone long before the white mass had faded from her eyes. She guessed it was probably only two or three, but what did it matter how many? They’d got what they’d come for – the elusive shot of Miles Avery’s fifteen-month-old son, to feature alongside the one of his missing eleven-month-old half-brother that had made most of the Sundays.

She could only hope now that when Miles saw it, he
would
finally pick up the phone and call, not only to check that she and Rufus were OK, but to let her know how he was too.

The sun hadn’t risen when Justine’s mobile rang on the nightstand next to her, waking her up. After taking a moment to remember where she was, she snaked out an arm and brought the phone back under the bedclothes.

‘This better be good,’ she warned.

‘Justine. It’s Kelsey.’

Justine blinked, then pushed back the blankets. ‘Kelsey?’ she said. ‘Are you OK?’

‘Yes. No. I mean …’ The girl’s voice was broken and nasal. ‘I want to see you,’ she said, sounding angry.

‘Yes, yes, of course,’ Justine responded, starting to get up. ‘When would—’

‘I want you to make my mum come back.’

Justine hesitated, not sure how to reply. ‘Well, I …’

‘You said you could,’ Kelsey cried. ‘You did it before.’

‘Yes, but … Well, that was …’

‘I want her to come back so that everything can be the way it was.’

‘Kelsey, I understand why you’re upset, but …’

‘You said I could call,’ she shouted. ‘Any time, day or night. You said I could talk to you.’

‘Yes, of course. It’s not a problem. Uh, when do you want to meet?’

‘Now. As soon as you can.’

‘Where are you?’

‘In my room, but I can meet you somewhere. There’s a road that goes through the top woods. I can give you directions and meet you there.’

‘But aren’t the woods cordoned off?’

‘That’s a different part,’ Kelsey snapped. ‘Have you got a pen?’

Automatically Justine reached for one. ‘OK, go ahead,’ she said, poised over a phone pad.

After jotting down Kelsey’s instructions, she promised to leave right away, then still feeling vaguely uneasy she rang off.

For several minutes she sat on the edge of the bed staring at the directions, as she tried to think what to do. Something about the girl’s voice, or maybe it was her words – in fact it was both – was bothering her. She’d sounded overwrought and panicky, which was understandable with her mother’s clothes being found, and everything … But the way she’d asked Justine to bring her mother back … Well, it was like she was expecting some kind of resurrection or something.

Quickly turning on the news to find out if there had been more developments overnight, she learned there were none, and went to check her computer. The email she’d forwarded the day before was there in her inbox, complete with attachment, so actually, all things considered, great as an exclusive with Kelsey might be …

She glanced at the time. This was a hard one. A private chat with Miles’s daughter wasn’t an opportunity to be passed up lightly. On the other hand, a delusional teenager with issues raging from the past, and a mother who might turn up dead any minute, probably wasn’t a species to be messed with. She needed to make a decision, though, the email or Kelsey, because it really couldn’t be both.

After the storms through the night the morning had dawned crisply sunny and clear, with a filmy haze
rising
from the wet earth and sparkling shards of light glinting from the branches of russet and brown leaves. Kelsey’s feet were squelching over a slimy ground-sheet of leaves as she paced up and down the lay-by where she’d told Justine to meet her. She’d said eight, but it was now eight thirty and Justine still hadn’t come. She carried on pacing, her heart full of fear, her mind reeling with images too horrible to bear. They’d found her mum’s clothes. Her bag, even her wallet. She couldn’t go anywhere without them, so what had happened to her?

A bolt of panic suddenly sent her sprinting along the road as though she could outrun her worst fear. There were no cars around; the track was so narrow that it was hardly ever used. She didn’t care where she was going, she only wanted to run and run until no one could find her.

‘Daddy, Daddy, Daddy,’ she said over and over, until hearing herself she bunched her hands at her mouth as though to push any more words back. He only wanted Vivienne, and if Kelsey didn’t get away he might try and do the same to her as— ‘No!’ she cried, wrapping her head in her arms. ‘No, no. He didn’t do it. He didn’t.’

On she ran, wanting to escape the memory of her dad telling her about the clothes, and the way he’d said she shouldn’t be afraid, because it didn’t necessarily mean the worst. His voice had been rough and shaky, and his eyes looked sore and dry and full of fear, as though he knew he wasn’t telling the truth. But he wouldn’t lie to her. He couldn’t have done anything wrong, because he was her dad and he didn’t do things like that. But what if he had? Her breath caught on a sob. There was no one she could trust. No one in the
whole
wide world. She wished her brother Sam would come back, because she was sure she’d be able to trust him. It would be just the two of them against the world. He’d take care of her, and she’d never have to be frightened again, because it wouldn’t matter about Vivienne or Rufus or anyone else. It would be just them.

After a while, trembling and panting for breath, she began walking along a woodland trail where mulchy puddles edged the path and sunlight streamed in bright misty bands through the trees. She kept her head down, her blonde hair swinging forward masking her face, her hands tucked tightly into the pockets of her parka.

She had to think what to do. She needed to find her mum and Sam and then she could make everything all right again. Her dad would be happy and not want anyone else. They could be a family, the way her mum had always wanted. Just the four of them.

She walked on and on, faster and faster, not hearing the drip of rain in the trees, or the creaks and cracks of branches. She just kept going, because somewhere at the end was an answer. But then there was nowhere else to go. The path had run out, there were no more trees, and she was staring down at the massive gulf of the estuary. The water glimmered and sparkled like a night of fireworks, the wooded valley in front dipping and swelling around wispy shreds of clouds that drifted like gauze across the treetops.

Looking around, she remembered this was where she used to come with her dad when she was small. They used to bring picnics and tell each other their secrets. Sometimes Grandma and Grandpa would come too. She wished they were here now, because she
really,
really didn’t know what to do, and Grandma always used to know the answer to everything.

In the end, as the sky started to blacken overhead, and sharp swathes of light slanted like fans down to the sea, she sank to her knees, sobbing and retching and hating herself for not having the courage to jump.

‘Kelsey!’

She froze. Then, terrified, she spun round to find a man coming towards her. The sun was blinding her – she couldn’t see who it was.

‘It’s all right, me old love,’ he said, ‘it’s just me. Tom. No need to be afraid.’

Kelsey blinked, but though she recognised their gardener’s voice, she still couldn’t make herself register who it was.

She watched him come closer, thinking it might be her grandpa about to emerge from the light, but then she saw who it was and looked up into Tom’s crinkly old face.