Missing (55 page)

Tell Dad not to worry. Will be looking out for you on TV tomorrow. Mum x

‘I suppose it’s gone some way to putting my mind at rest,’ Miles was saying as he drove Vivienne and Rufus over to the barn. ‘At least it won’t come as a shock now. She knows it’s happening and can avoid the paper if she chooses.’

‘Which I’m sure she will,’ Vivienne responded,
turning
to hand Rufus back the plastic hammer he’d just flung into her lap. ‘Did you call the police before we left?’

‘Yes, I spoke to Sadler. He can’t order another house-to-house now she’s asked for privacy, but he assures me they’re still on the case, talking to estate agents, local traders, taxi firms. All by phone, of course, which isn’t very satisfactory, but it’s better than nothing. Actually, he knew about Elizabeth Barrett already, because he’s seen the files, so he understood why I’m so worried.’

‘Did you mention you’re thinking of calling in a private detective?’

‘No, I’m still waiting to hear back from Stefan on that, but even if he manages to hire someone today, the chances of them finding her before tomorrow have to be virtually non-existent.’

Vivienne glanced over at him, knowing he was far more concerned than he was prepared to admit. ‘If you want to drop me and Rufus at the refuge and go on to London to try and find her …’

‘Believe me, I’ve considered it, but what good will it do? I’m in the same boat as everyone else, I don’t actually know where to start, apart from Richmond, of course, and it’s a big place. Not to mention that we don’t even know for certain that that’s where she is.’

Sighing, Vivienne reached into her bag for a tissue to wipe Rufus’s mouth. ‘Well, like you said, at least she’s prepared, and she doesn’t have to read it. In fact I feel certain she won’t now you’ve forewarned her.’

Hoping she was right, he let the subject drop as he indicated to turn into the horse sanctuary, where the courtyard was already as crowded with vehicles as it was with people.

‘You’ll have to park over there,’ Vivienne said, pointing him past the chaos to a patch of wasteland next to an enormous fire engine. It had been brought in for the children’s entertainment, to be supervised by the firemen not taking part in the auction, while their wives and girlfriends organised sedate trots around the manège on the ageing horses. ‘I wonder if Sharon and Stella are here yet?’ she said, looking around.

‘Did Sharon make the camera rehearsal last night?’ he asked, bringing the car to a stop.

‘She did, but she was exhausted by the end of it. Stella started threatening to organise a wheelchair for today, but the last I heard Sharon was refusing to have anything to do with it. “I’m turning up on me own two pins,” she said, “or I’m not turning up at all.”’

With a smile Miles went to lift Rufus from the back seat, while Vivienne retrieved her briefcase and a pile of brochures from the boot. After making sure they had everything they needed, she kissed them both and left them to their own devices, while she hurried off to join the frenetic build-up to transmission.

The barn’s interior turned out to be an even bigger mêlée of activity than the area outside as it underwent its spectacular transformation into a TV studio-cum-saleroom. Lights, cables, cranes and scaffolding were scattered about all over the place, while the auctioneer’s stand was being miked up, and tracks were laid either side of the catwalk for the cameras. Even though it was still early many excited punters were already bustling into their seats, determined not to have them stolen, while representatives of the bone-marrow trust that was lending its charitable status were setting up a stand at the back of the room.

After leaving some of her brochures with them,
Vivienne
deposited the rest with the volunteers who’d offered to hand them out, then went over to join Pete in the area designated for manning the phones. He was listening closely as the WI ladies, who were already at their stations, received a last-minute briefing from two experts provided by Sotheby’s.

‘Did Alice and Angus manage to get here last night?’ Vivienne whispered in his ear.

‘Yep, but it was after midnight,’ he replied. ‘They’ve gone to collect Kayla from the station now.’

Smiling her thanks Vivienne left him to it, and went to make sure the seating area set aside for the invited press was stocked with brochures, photographs and all the necessary contact information.

By the time Stella and Sharon arrived at nine, minus a wheelchair, the refuge was teeming with so many people it seemed doubtful everyone would fit in.

‘What a blooming turnout,’ Stella chuckled, after forcing a path through the crowd to Vivienne. ‘And look at our girl, in’t she a treat? Had her hair done specially at eight o’clock this morning, she did.’

Though Sharon’s wig seemed larger than ever, it had been prettily styled, and to Vivienne’s relief her cheeks had regained some colour, after being chalk-white by the time she’d left rehearsals last night. Nevertheless, she was still sunken-eyed and very fragile-looking, and, Vivienne noted, she wasn’t letting go of Stella’s arm.

‘Don’t you start thinking I was at the hairdresser’s at that time,’ Sharon said, her tone conveying mischief, ‘it was just me wig what went. Eileen took it over, and Stella brought it back. Now how’s that for a bit of slavery?’

‘Nothing like what we’m hoping to get here today,’
Stella
chuckled, rubbing her big hands together as she looked around.

‘I hope you brought your chequebook,’ Vivienne teased. ‘The opening bids are already high, and going up all the time, from what I hear. Apparently they’re starting at five thousand for Theo.’

Stella gave a squawk of merry protest. ‘How the bleedin’ ’ell am I going to afford the gorgeous bugger now?’ she demanded. ‘I was buying him for our Sharon, I was.’

‘Pfff,’ Sharon retorted. ‘You was after him for yourself, everyone knows that. Anyway, you can’t even swim.’

Laughing, Vivienne said, ‘Where are your children? Didn’t they come?’

‘They was whisked off by the firemen, soon as I got here,’ she answered, stumbling against Stella as someone barged past.

‘Blimey, it’s a squash in ’ere,’ Stella grumbled. ‘I s’pose we ought to find out where they wants us to sit. They changed it half a dozen times during last night’s rehearsal, so for all I know we could be up on the catwalk with the crumpet by now.’

‘You should probably go through to make-up,’ Vivienne advised. ‘They might want to fluff you up and powder you down before you go on air. It’s in the green trailer at the back of the car park.’

‘What about wardrobe?’ Stella asked, winking at Miles as he pushed his way through with Rufus to join them. ‘I’ve brought me thong for a spot of pole-dancing, if they wants it. I’ve already got it on if you’re up for a quick butcher’s.’

Vivienne gave a choke of laughter as Miles blanched.

‘Come on, you wicked old tart,’ Sharon said,
tugging
Stella’s arm. ‘I needs a bit of make-up even if you don’t.’

As they merged back into the crowd Vivienne took an electrified Rufus from Miles and treated him to a resounding kiss on the cheek. ‘Looks like you’re enjoying yourself, young man,’ she laughed, squeezing him hard. Then to Miles, ‘Any news from Stefan?’

‘No injunction,’ Miles responded.

Knowing how disappointed he must be, even though he hadn’t really expected one, Vivienne reached for his hand. ‘It’ll be OK,’ she said softly.

He nodded and attempted a smile. ‘If we were talking about any other editor,’ he said, ‘I might try appealing to his better nature, but as the Critch doesn’t have one, there’s not a lot of point. Incidentally, Kelsey and Martha have just arrived with Mrs Davies and her husband.’

Experiencing a flutter of anxiety, Vivienne said, ‘Then maybe I’d better hang onto Rufus for now. You don’t want to be bumping into Kelsey when you’re holding him.’

Miles’s expression became droll as he said, ‘Don’t worry, she’s going to be far too interested in what’s happening on stage to notice anyone else, but he’s all yours for the moment. I’ve just spotted Al Kohler over at the catering truck.’

As he disappeared into the crowd Vivienne turned to find Reg, the auctioneer, heading her way, and immediately started to grin. His whiskers had clearly been waxed and curled for the big occasion, while his outfit might have come from a Tyrolean drag museum.

‘Where on earth did you get the lederhosen?’ she laughed, giving him a good lookover. ‘Do you have a hat to go with it?’

‘Course I do,’ he answered, sweeping it up onto his head. ‘Got the feather fresh from one of me own pheasants this morning, I did. Anyway, I keeps meaning to tell you about them paintings Mrs Avery brought in. You know, the ones her great-aunt did, and my missus bought one. Well, that’s where the name Anne Cates came from, because it’s there, large as life in the corner of our landscape.’

Not having the heart to let on that they already knew, Vivienne said, ‘I’ll be sure to tell Miles. Great piece of detective work, Reg, and I hear you’re an even better auctioneer.’

‘Christie’s are going to be head-hunting him after today,’ Pete declared, as he came to join them, ‘if the pheasant you plucked that feather from doesn’t get in first. What do you look like, Reg?’

‘Good, innit?’ Reg beamed, running his hands down over the frills around his bib front. ‘The director said he’d never seen anything like it.’

‘I doubt any of us has,’ Pete muttered. ‘Anyway, you’re wanted in position now, so if you’re ready, maestro … Got your hammer?’

‘It’s on me podium, unless some bugger’s nicked it.’

As they squeezed off through the crowd Vivienne turned round to search for Alice and Angus, and to her alarm almost collided with Kelsey. ‘Oh, hi,’ she said awkwardly, clutching Rufus more tightly to her and praying Kelsey wouldn’t start creating a scene.

Kelsey’s eyes flicked to Rufus, then grabbing Martha’s arm she dragged her off in another direction.

‘Goodness, that went well,’ Alice commented, coming up behind her. ‘Hello my darling,’ she cooed at Rufus. ‘Are you enjoying all the fun?’

‘Nan, nan, brrrrr,’ Rufus bubbled, clapping his fists.

‘No, not your nana, your godma,’ Alice corrected. ‘And godpop,’ she added, as Angus turned up.

‘Gopopop,’ Rufus shouted.

‘I hope you’ve reserved us some good seats,’ Alice said, casting an eye over the audience.

‘Front row left of stage,’ Vivienne informed her. ‘Right next to Kelsey, in fact.’

‘Oh goodee. You know, I really don’t understand why you have such a problem with her. She was a perfect delight when Angus and I were introduced to her just now, wasn’t she, darling?’

‘I don’t think she quite realised who you were,’ Angus replied disloyally.

Alice rolled her eyes, and continued to take in the sea of rustic, polished and mostly laughing faces. ‘It’s like a party,’ she declared, ‘which I suppose it is in a way. Just a pity we don’t have any champagne.’

‘There’ll be plenty after, courtesy of Sir Richard and his gorgeous wife Susie,’ Vivienne told her. ‘They called from Australia late last night to make a very handsome donation too, no strings attached.’

‘Ah! Don’t you just love them? And Angus has told me how many donations you’ve already had like that. It’s amazing. Brilliant. So how much is in the kitty so far?’

‘The last I heard it’s approaching twenty-four thousand, and the auction, as it stands, is expected to raise somewhere in the region of forty thousand.’

Alice’s eyes boggled. ‘My God, you’re surpassing yourself, my angel.’

‘Personally, I haven’t given anything yet,’ Vivienne laughed, ‘or not in a monetary sense. But it’s wonderful how generous everyone’s been since we got our charitable status. Now it’s tax-deductible there’s
an
even bigger incentive to cough up. Where’s Kayla, by the way?’

‘Would you believe, in the firemen’s dressing rooms?’ Alice replied with no little irony. ‘Making sure she has all their details was how she put it to me.’ Then, as someone started shepherding them towards the seating, ‘Oh, yippee, looks like we’re being asked to take our places. Angus, bring our paddle, darling, we’re going to win ourselves a fireman’s lift.’

Laughing, Vivienne turned to see if Miles was anywhere in sight, and spotting him coming her way with Al Kohler, she moved forward to meet them.

‘So here’s the bonnie wee lad,’ Kohler chuckled, his deeply lined features and shiny bald head looking rather hot under the lights. ‘I can see why your daddy’s very proud of you, young man.’

Clearly thrilled to be making yet another new friend, Rufus gurgled loudly and started banging his hands together.

Laughing, Kohler waited as Vivienne handed Rufus to Miles, then embraced her warmly. ‘Looks like we’ve quite an event on our hands,’ he said, smiling around him.

‘Thanks to you,’ she reminded him.

‘I don’t take other people’s credit,’ he said with a wink. ‘It’s all down to you.’ Then, as Miles turned away with Rufus, responding to one of the TV assistants who was trying to make them sit down, ‘Miles told me about tomorrow’s edition of
The News
.’

‘What do you think?’ she asked, glancing at Miles, but he obviously couldn’t hear.

‘What I
know
,’ Kohler replied, ‘is that the Critch has gone too far this time, and Justine has successfully dug her own grave. What matters, though, is Jacqueline.’

Vivienne regarded him soberly. ‘Of course,’ she said, ‘but she might not read it, and anyway, I keep thinking, if she was going to do anything, well, like that, she’d have done it by now.’ She paused as he leant nearer to hear her better. ‘She’s had ample opportunity these past six weeks,’ she said, ‘and since the birthdays have come and gone …’

He was nodding. ‘Precisely,’ he agreed. ‘So the question is, why won’t she tell anyone where she is, or what she’s doing?’

‘Or,’ Vivienne added, ‘what she’s hiding from.’

On the small dining table that was pushed up against a flowery-papered wall was a copy of that morning’s newspaper, opened to a centre-page spread of the ‘boys up for bids’, as the paper was calling them. Next to it was a large notepad covered in neatly handwritten lines and a mobile phone. In the same room, set at an angle beside an original Edwardian fireplace, was a TV where a programme announcer was informing viewers that the much anticipated Slave Auction would begin after the commercial break.