What You Left Behind (22 page)

Lana laughed bitterly. “I can’t, sorry.”

She could already hear her mum’s voice if she mentioned it, especially if it was with Tammy. For some reason, she didn’t think much of her and her mates.

Think of the germs, Lana, the poor sanitation and lack of nutrition. Glandular fever and STDs, not to mention the risk of dehydration and alcohol poisoning, drugs and syringes …

Frank made a noise as he straightened his back. He’d said he’d hurt it a few days ago. “If I were younger, I’d be up for it. Camping, beer, music, and friends.” He nodded at the thought. “I saw the Beatles and the Rolling Stones back in the day.”

“When was
the day
, Frank?” Lana asked idly, searching through the cans of food in the cupboard.

She felt Frank’s eyes on her back so she turned, and noticed the chill in them.

“It’s
now
, pet,” he replied with a wink. “The day is always
now
.”

Lana turned back to the cupboard and thought about Freddie and the bullying he’d confided to her. She was desperately worried about him and wished she’d never let him go. What would his mother say if she knew she hadn’t stopped him? There must have been something she could have done to help.

She thought of Dean, too, and Lenny, and, finally, Simon. None of them would ever again be having their “day.” It had been stolen from each of them.

She took a can of soup from the cupboard, opened it, and tipped its contents into a saucepan.

“Not making lunch already?” Frank said, coming back in from taking out the rubbish. He was behind her, standing close. Lana felt unsettled. She could sense the warmth of his body as he peered over her shoulder, watching as she stirred the soup.

“It’s for Abby to take with her. She looks so thin these days.”

Frank grunted his approval. “That girl needs to sort herself out,” he said coldly.

“She’s had a tough time recently, what with losing Dean. And now Lenny.”

Frank hadn’t really talked about the latest suicide. No one had.
Rather he’d just carried on the last few days, busier than ever, as if by keeping the shelter in tip-top order it would make the tragedy go away.

“I had your mum on the phone earlier,” Frank said. He swung round, leaning back against the worktop.

Once again Lana felt his eyes boring into her.

“Is she OK?” she asked, staring at the soup. It was already bubbling furiously, sticking around the edges. She turned off the burner.

“She was asking about Freddie, if we’d seen him here.”

Lana swallowed. Her mouth was dry. “Yes, they’re worried because he was out all night.”

“I should help look for him,” Frank said earnestly. “I know how easy it is for these young lads to run away, thinking they’re doing the right thing. Then they fall in with a bad crowd, turn to petty crime, and end up sleeping in the park or a shop doorway.” He coughed loudly and reached into the front pocket of his jeans, which Lana reckoned had never been washed. He pulled out a grimy handkerchief and blew his nose. “It happens more than you’d think.”

Lana looked round at him as he shoved the handkerchief back in his pocket. Did he know? she wondered.

“Freddie’s not stupid,” she said. “If he’s gone off for a bit, it’ll be for a good reason.”

“Oh? And what might that be?”

Lana looked at him again and saw something pained behind his small, watery blue eyes.

“I had a son once,” he said. Then he shook his head as if he’d decided he didn’t want to talk about it.

“Really?” Tammy had never mentioned she had a brother.

Frank nodded, and pulled out a chair. Lana dug about in the cupboard for the old thermos.

“He ran away when he was fourteen. Never heard a word from him. That was twenty years ago.”

“He’d be thirty-four now, then.” Somehow, it didn’t seem plausible.
Tammy was only eighteen. Lana poured the soup into the thermos. Some of it splashed down her front. “I’m sorry to hear that, Frank,” she added. “I had no idea.”

“I don’t broadcast it,” he said quickly. “It’s private, so don’t you go telling everyone, right?” He made a guttural sound, which Lana took to be grief stuck in his throat. “That’s why I’d like to help find Freddie. If you tell me when and where you last saw him, that’d be a start, right? If we found him, it would help your mum, not to mention his poor family. I know how they must be feeling, see?”

Lana nodded. “You’re right. Mum’s not been great these last few weeks. What with Dean’s suicide, and Lenny, and now Freddie going missing …” She trailed off. “I’m really worried about her.”

Frank was nodding sympathetically, and before she knew it he was out of the chair and hugging her again. Up close, he smelled stale and unloved. She didn’t like the way it made her feel.

“It must bring it all back for your poor mum,” Frank said. “I could tell she’s been upset these last few weeks, with everything going on.” His voice was clearer now, as if having a mission had given him purpose, clarity. “She’s a good woman.”

If what he’d said about his son was true, Lana could understand why he’d made the shelter his life’s work. It was the same for her mum. New Hope meant much more to them than simply helping the homeless.

“So, tell me about the last communication you had from Freddie,” Frank continued.

Lana wriggled out of his hug and pulled her phone from her pocket. She play-acted to see if there were any texts, knowing there wouldn’t be.

“No messages,” she said.

Frank continued to look at her expectantly.

“I think he phoned me yesterday afternoon, saying he wouldn’t be coming to our barbecue last night,” Lana lied. “Yes, that was it.”

Suddenly she wanted to tell Frank about Freddie’s troubles, about
the bullying and the stress he’d suffered for so long, how he felt he couldn’t confide in anyone, and now this horrid thing with her dad and his mum and the laptop and Lenny and, oh …

Lana covered her face. “Sorry, sorry,” she said. “I’m just being silly.” She sniffed, and when she spotted Abby standing in the doorway she rallied and handed her the warm thermos. Abby, dark-eyed and sullen, took the soup and disappeared slowly as if her legs would barely carry her.

“Listen, my love,” Frank said kindly, pulling out another chair. “I want you to sit down next to me and tell me everything. We’re going to find this young man.”

He sat down, and clasped his hands beneath his chin, meshing them in the nest of his beard. He smiled at Lana, exposing his rotten front teeth, and tilted his head sideways.

Cautiously, Lana sat down too. “You think we can find him?”

“I promise on my life,” Frank replied kindly.

L
ANA FELT BETTER
when she left New Hope half an hour later. Frank was staying to get on with some jobs, he’d said, citing a blocked drain and leaky gutter as first on his list to tackle. She wondered if she’d misunderstood him all this time, been afraid and wary of him needlessly. He genuinely seemed to want to help. She would, her mother often told her, be expected to deal with all kinds of characters when she was a doctor. Her stomach lurched at the thought as she pulled the big front door of New Hope shut.

She walked across the street to her car. As she was about to get in, someone called out her name. Lana put her hand up to her forehead, shielding her eyes from the glare of the sun. She saw a woman approaching from across the road. She was wearing a knee-length denim skirt and sparkly sandals that hindered her attempt to run.

“Wait, Lana!”

For a moment, as Lana recognized her, all she could think about was whether her dad had remembered to pay her insurance and whether her vehicle license was displayed properly.

“I’m glad I caught you,” Lorraine said, panting.

Lana bit her lip. She wanted to tell her to go away, that she was in a hurry, that she didn’t know anything, but nothing came out except a few words that were meant to mean “How are you?”

“I’m fine, thanks, love.” Lorraine pushed her sunglasses onto the top of her head. “Can we have a quick chat?”

“What about?”

“Is there a café or somewhere around here where we can sit for ten minutes?”

“There’s the chippy over there.” Lana pointed to the corner opposite New Hope. Al was just opening up. He waved at Lana and turned the Closed sign to Open.

“It won’t take long.”

Lorraine smiled and took Lana’s elbow, escorting her across the road. Lana felt a bit as though she were being frog-marched off to the police station.

Al eyed Lana when they went in. Probably wondering why she wasn’t with her mates, Lana thought. Occasionally she’d pop over after a late shift and get a cone of fries.

“A coffee and a …” Lorraine looked at Lana.

“A Coke, please,” she said. It was too hot for tea.

“It’s Freddie,” Lorraine said after they’d taken their drinks over to an orange Formica table in the window. “As you probably know, he didn’t come home last night.”

Lana nodded. “Mum told me. I’ve just done her shift.” She pointed across the road to New Hope, noticing a group of men hanging around outside. One was drinking from a plastic bottle of cider.

“We’re very worried about him, Lana. I know you two are good friends. I wanted to check if you’d heard anything or know anything that might help us find him.”

Lana cracked the can and drew in a large swig. The bubbles burned her throat and nose. “Maybe he just went to a friend’s place and forgot to call. I’ve done that before. Mum went mad with worry.”

“She did?”

Lana gave a half smile. “I was a couple of hours late and forgot to call home. Mum rang the police and reported me missing. She said I’d been gone for hours and that it was out of character, just to make them take notice. They told her I’d probably be fine, but she went crazy apparently.” Lana leaned forward across the table. “It wasn’t that long after Simon, so the police understood.”

Lorraine nodded thoughtfully.

“I was upset too, you see,” Lana found herself explaining. “Don’t tell Mum, but I’d gone and got pissed at a mate’s house and passed out. I
never
do that, just so you know.” Lana managed a grin. “But, you know, at the time it helped.”

“I know,” Lorraine said kindly, stirring her coffee. “Freddie’s mum is concerned because he’s been a bit depressed recently.”

“He seems fine to me,” Lana said, far too quickly. She gulped more Coke.

“Seems? That sounds very much in the here and now. When did you last see him?”

Lana stared out the window, noticing small greasy handprints on the glass, as if a child had been trying to escape. She felt as if she’d quite like to escape. She raised her eyebrows, pretending to think.

“That would be just a day or so ago. Maybe yesterday? Stella wanted to ride one of my ponies. He seemed fine then.” Lana swallowed down the lump in her throat. She knew Freddie was far from fine, and hated herself for lying—lying to a cop, for Christ’s sake.

Lorraine smiled at the mention of her daughter. “It’s just that you actually said
seems
fine, as if you’d been with him more recently.”

She was a detective, Lana reminded herself. What else was she reading from the subliminal messages she was sending out? Had
she noticed the way her voice quivered as she spoke, or how her feet were jittering under the table? Had she spotted the thin layer of sweat she could feel on her top lip, or the way she couldn’t quite look her in the eye?

Lana wondered if she should mention the bullying. That wouldn’t hurt Freddie, would it?

“The thing is, Lana, Jo thinks Freddie’s been cutting himself. Do you know anything about this?” Lorraine paused, her forehead creased with worry. “We’re concerned what else he might do if he’s feeling so low.”

“Oh God.” Lana shut her eyes. She’d had no idea about this. “You don’t think he might …”

“That’s why I need you to tell me everything, love. Even if you think it’s not helpful.”

Lana nodded. A film reel of the stuff that had happened in the last few days flashed through her mind. If only she hadn’t seen those damned photographs, she wouldn’t have felt obliged to tell Freddie—after all, he was involved too—and they wouldn’t have cooked up the hare-brained plan to steal the computer. They’d thought they were doing Lenny a favor, asking him to take it for them, but he’d ended up killing himself anyway. It was such a mess, and they had made it worse.

Lana opened her eyes. “We never thought Simon would do it,” she said quietly, linking her fingers around the wet can. “It was like a bomb went off in our lives. We were going away on a trip that day.”

“I’m so sorry.”

“They wouldn’t let me see him, but he was hanging, I know that much. Gil saw him. He’s told me what it was like. Apparently one of his eyes was open and staring.” Lana had no idea why she was telling Lorraine this. Perhaps to deflect attention from Freddie. “I was in the car, waiting. My suitcase was in the trunk.”

“I can’t imagine what it must have been like for you all.”

Lorraine sipped more coffee.

“Mum will never get over it. She doesn’t want to.”

“And your dad?”

Lana laughed bitterly. “He’s gone off the rails—” She stopped herself. She shouldn’t have said that. Her dad was coping in his own way, even if it was wrong.