KATE
‘Amberton Garage, how can I help?’
‘Danny?’
‘Who’s this?’
In a rush I say: ‘Danny, it’s Kate Harlow. Please don’t hang up.’
Silence, then: ‘Are you kidding me? What do you want?’
‘Danny, I am so, so sorry you’ve got mixed up in all this – and I am trying to sort it out, really I am. But I need to know: that car that you saw picking Sophie up, when you thought it was her dad—’
‘You’re asking me about cars now?’ his voice skitters higher. ‘Do you know the police had me in again, about Sophie? Holly got really upset. You’ve got to stop this, it’s not fair, it’s—’
‘Danny, I know. And I believe you now, I do: you didn’t get Sophie pregnant.’ As I say it I realise it’s more than me trying to get him to stay on the line, I mean it. ‘And I know it sounds odd, but please. This thing about the car – I just, I need to know – why did you think that it was Sophie’s dad?’
I’m waiting for him hang up. But he says, more calmly: ‘I don’t know. Well, he was old. And when I asked her, she got embarrassed. Y’know, I teased her a little bit, about her dad still picking her up.’
‘I get it – and what did he look like?’
‘I dunno. Old. Like a … dad. Like he could be her dad.’
I roll my eyes – teenagers. ‘Anything else? Glasses? A beard? His hair colour?’
‘I don’t know. I don’t remember. I didn’t go and say hello.’
‘And this car?’
‘I don’t remember.’
I wince. Come on, Danny. ‘Maybe not the model, don’t worry about that. But you know all about cars. What about the colour, can you picture that?’
‘Well,’ he says hesitantly. ‘Black, maybe, or navy. Dark. Yes, it was dark. Smart.’
I lean against the wall. So it definitely wasn’t Mark. Mark always goes for light colours, pale metallics – silver, beige, one year that horrible gold.
‘Why?’ Danny says now. ‘Do you think – this guy did something?’ His voice is smaller now, fearful. He’s not that old, I think. He’s had a lot to deal with.
‘I think he knows something. I’ve got to go now. And thank you, Danny. I mean it.’
So some guy, someone older, not her dad, picked her up. And someone was emailing her secretly. Are they one and the same? ‘I can’t wait.’
An older man. Too old for Sophie, so they had to be a secret. A secret that he’s managed to protect, until now. Until Holly told me about the pregnancy test, and I started asking questions.
I start walking, pacing up and down the kitchen, the nervous energy forcing me to move.
But what about Nancy? How does that play into this? Am I imagining it, seeing a link, when there’s nothing there but a resemblance between two girls, separated by decades, and a chance stray phrase? Then there’s this boyfriend of hers … Jay. The one they questioned, then he moved away.
He’d be old now too, to a teenager like Danny.
That’s ridiculous. The whole Nancy thing.
The only reason I’m even thinking about Nancy, the only reason I even know about her, is because of Lily, who barely seems to know what day it is nowadays.
‘Nancy was the other one, then … I get a bit confused these days, don’t I?’
I’m picturing her now: Lily pretending not to know about Nancy: ‘No dear. I hope I haven’t forgotten again.’ Not seeming upset to have let that slip her memory, not at all.
I kick on my trainers and head out, swatting away the midges that are dancing under the trees. I’m thinking how to do this: I don’t want her to clam up, she’s been so touchy recently. Not herself. I can only try, I think, as I let myself in. ‘Lily?’
She’s in her usual chair. But she looks frailer than I remember, dark blue shadows under her eyes.
‘Hello, dear.’
I pull up a chair, and ask her how she’s been; what’s been going on in her soaps. But she’s a beat behind my questions; she can’t remember what’s happened in the last episodes. The room’s a mess, too; saucers scattered around; old newspapers, the place too hot. I get up to open a window – it’s so stuffy.
Another bad day: I must chase the surgery. But maybe that means …
Feeling guilty, I kneel down next to her. ‘Lily, I’ve something to ask you. Something important – about Nancy, who you mentioned the other day?’
‘Nancy?’
‘Yes, Nancy.’ I force myself to wait.
She looks blank, then: ‘She was a wild one. She got in trouble.’
‘Yes, you said that last time: she was trouble. But what happened to her? Do you know?’
‘They were going to send her away to school – after she got in trouble.’
Oh, I’m not going to get anywhere.
And then I realise: ‘She got in trouble.’ That old euphemism, from when it wasn’t nice to talk about these things.
‘Do you mean she was pregnant, Lily?’
‘She was a one, Nancy. All that sneaking around, off in the deer park. That’s where the young people used to go in those days, you know—’
‘So did you know her?’ I can’t let her get off track. I think: how long has she been a housekeeper here? I didn’t think her roots here went that far back. ‘Did you know her, Lily? Is that why Sophie’s story reminded you of Nancy, the girl who used to live here?’
But she’s tuning me out, her eyes looking beyond me. I lean in and grasp her hand.
‘And do you know what happened to her boyfriend, Lily? Do you know? His name was Jay.’
She turns her head to me and puts a soft hand over mine. ‘You mustn’t look so worried. What’s wrong?’
‘I was asking you about Nancy, Lily, do you remember?’ I try to keep the tension out of my voice.
‘Nancy … no dear. I don’t think I know that name. Should I?’
‘Yes, you do know it; did you know Nancy? What happened to her?’
But it’s too much, she’s getting upset now: ‘Why? Where is she? Where’s she gone?’ She leans back in her chair. ‘Oh, I’m so tired.’
I squeeze her hand. ‘Don’t you worry about it, Lily. Everything’s going to be OK. You have a nice nap, I’ll come back later, when you’re more yourself.’
I stand up. Can it be possible?
In trouble.
If she meant what I think … pregnant. Nancy’s little sister didn’t breathe a word of this; neither did Vicky, her classmate – gossip like that would fly round a school. But only if people knew. If her little sister wasn’t told, say, or she didn’t confide in her friends, they could hush it up.
So that’s two of them.
Two girls who ran away. Two girls with secrets. Two girls who never came home.