Better Left Buried (11 page)

What does he want with me? Why not just tell me? Why does he keep running away?

I tell Mrs Perry all of it, and about the visit to the police six days ago. I've heard nothing since. Clearly they've no more clue who he is than I have. I'm losing hope that there's anything they can do to sort this out.

Mrs Perry sits, listening and nodding. She doesn't tell me I'm overreacting or imagining things or getting carried away. She doesn't start talking about Max and grief and all that stuff. She simply listens. And when I finally reach the end, she stands and rests her hand on my shoulder.

“Sarah, I had no idea. You poor thing.” She lifts my chin so I'm looking up into her face. I manage a weak smile.

“Have you had lunch?”

I shrug. “A cereal bar.” It was as much as I could manage in my rush to get here from the early shift at work.

Mrs Perry grimaces. “Right. Well, let's start there.”

I sit at the kitchen table while Mrs Perry heats up some leek and potato soup from her freezer. It comes out in a block from a plastic box, so I'm guessing she made it herself. I can't even remember the last time I had soup that didn't come out of a tin.

I feel a bit awkward. I've never been in this part of the house before. But unlike the rather stark atmosphere of the music room, her kitchen feels cosy and relaxed. The work area is decorated with pale green tiles, the shelves stacked with pastel-coloured teapots and mugs. There's a large corkboard on one wall, covered with scraps of paper and pictures of smiling babies and kids. Her grandchildren, I guess.

Mrs Perry pours the soup from the pan straight into the bowl she's placed in front of me. Steam rises up into my face and despite all my worries, the warm, creamy scent makes me almost hungry. She cuts me a hunk of wholemeal bread from the loaf on the table and passes it to me on a plate. I tear a piece off and dunk it in, then wait for it to cool.

Mrs Perry sits opposite and watches me eat.

“Sarah, I don't know what to advise you about what you've just told me. It all sounds horrendous. I know you've been to the police but I really believe you should talk to your parents.”

I gaze back at her. “I can't,” I say. “Mum's in too much of a state to cope with it. And Dad's still away, more problems on the rig. If I tell him, he'll want to come home and he's already had so much time off…you know, when my brother… Besides, what can he do that the police can't?”

Mrs Perry pauses before answering. “But you'll speak to him when he gets back?”

I nod.

“I am very concerned about you, Sarah. You're so thin, and terribly pale.”

I don't reply. There doesn't seem much point denying it.

“Is there anything I can do to help?”

I consider her question as I nibble the bread. What is there that anyone could do? I've not seen that man again, since the cinema. Maybe that will be the last of it.

As for Lizzie, who can help me with that? Tears rim my eyes again as I think of her present sitting on my desk, the card propped up beside it. Today is Lizzie's birthday and I've not heard a word – from her or her mum. No reply to the text I sent this morning. Nothing to the
Happy Birthday
message I posted on Facebook.

Where is she? I wonder for the thousandth time. Somehow I can't believe she's gone off camping in Cornwall, like she told her mum. There's no mention of it online, no photos, nothing. And I've rung round everyone I can think of to see if they've heard something, but no one seems to have a clue.

At least she must be safe, I remind myself. Her mum would have called me if anything had happened. Anything serious.

I wrench my mind away from my anxiety and down another spoonful of soup, buoyed by its warmth and delicate flavour. I'll see Lizzie in a few days, I think, when the new term starts. I can give her my present then.

And when she's back I'll talk to her, I resolve again. I'll make her tell me what's going on. We'll sort this out once and for all.

Simply coming to this decision makes me feel better. That, and the hot soup spreading a glow through my stomach that makes me feel less weepy. I glance down. I've eaten most of the bowl without even realizing.

“Sarah, I need to ask you this.” The seriousness on Mrs Perry's face instantly dispels my more hopeful mood. “Do you think you're really up to the audition this year? You could always put it off until you've finished your A-levels next summer.”

Her question blindsides me and fills me with a momentary sense of panic.

She sees my expression. “You've been through something terrible, and it's all so raw. It's going to take time to find your feet again, even leaving aside all this other stuff you've told me. It wouldn't hurt to give yourself a bit more time.”

I know what she's saying makes sense, but the idea of waiting another year, of not knowing for so long if I've got a place, got a future, makes me feel sick. I don't think I could bear it.

I look Mrs Perry square in the face. “No,” I say firmly. “I want to go ahead. I want this more than anything.”

Right now singing is all I have, even if it is a struggle. The only anchor in my life. The one thing stopping me being completely cast adrift.

There's no way I'm letting it go, not even for a heartbeat.

She isn't here.

I look round the common room again, at all the familiar faces, some tanned from holidays abroad, others pale from a summer spent at home. And not one of them Lizzie's.

I spot Roo over in the corner, still eating her lunch. “Hey,” she says, as I walk over. “Where's Lizzie?”

“I was going to ask you that,” I say, glancing around again. “You haven't seen her either?” It's possible I missed her earlier. I'd squeezed in some practice this morning and only just made it into college in time for first lesson.

Roo puts down her sandwich and curls up her lip, clearly annoyed. “No bloody sign. I'm pissed off with her for missing the party, actually. Didn't even message or anything to explain.”

Across the other side of the common room I spot Tanya. I give her a quick wave and she comes over. “Hi, Sarah,” she says, giving me a hug. Roo gets in her question before I do.

“Hey, Tanya, you seen Lizzie yet? She's in your French group, isn't she?”

Tanya sits in one of the free chairs. “She wasn't in the lesson this morning. I was wondering where she was myself. Maybe she's off sick or something.”

Roo turns to me. “You not seen her since she got back from holiday then? You said she'd gone to Cornwall, didn't you?”

“According to her mum.”

“She didn't tell you?” Tanya frowns. “What's going on with you two? You fallen out?”

“No,” I say too fast. “I've been a bit out of touch, that's all. Been really busy.”

Roo gives me a quizzical look and I feel myself redden. I can tell they're not convinced.

“I've got to run,” I mumble, turning and walking off before they can grill me any further. Digging in my bag for my phone, I speed-dial Lizzie's number. As usual it clicks straight into voicemail. I don't leave another message, but check the time.

Ten past one. If I get a move on I should be able to make it to her house and get back in time for my next lesson.

Lizzie's mum is leaning over the dishwasher, fiddling with something inside. She glances up and sees me coming along the garden path, so I don't bother with the bell.

The door opens a few seconds later. Lizzie's mum looks the usual mixture of tired and harassed, but there's something else. An awkwardness in her manner, like she's embarrassed.

“Is Lizzie home?” I ask, following her into the living room. “I couldn't find her anywhere at college.”

Her mum shakes her head. “She isn't, Sarah, I'm afraid. She's still away.”

“So when's she getting back?” I'm flummoxed. I mean, it's been nearly three weeks now. Long enough for any holiday – let alone camping in Cornwall.

Lizzie's mum lets out a heavy sigh. “Actually, Sarah, I'm not sure she is coming back.”

“What do you mean?” I stare at her, assuming I must have misheard or misunderstood.

“She rang last night to say she'd got a job in a local hotel and that she isn't coming home. At least not yet.” She sees the look on my face. “I'm sorry, Sarah. I was going to ring you but I had to go to work this morning…”

“But that's crazy!” I gasp, my mind faltering. “What about her A-levels?”

Lizzie's mum lets her shoulders slump. She looks defeated. “I've told her that, Sarah. Told her she's throwing it all away, but she doesn't seem to care.”

“But what about university? Studying journalism?”

Her mum's face clouds and the frown lines across her forehead look deeper than ever. “Well, I think that's definitely off the agenda now.” She watches me and sees I don't understand. “After the grades she got in her exams this year, I mean.”

“Were they really that bad?”

Lizzie's mum nods. “Not great, Sarah, to be honest.”

I'm speechless. Okay, Lizzie said she thought they hadn't gone well, but she always worries about that kind of stuff and gets good marks anyway. A twinge of guilt, as I remember all the revision time Lizzie gave up to support me over Max.

“Jesus,” I manage, half to myself. I hardly know what to say or think or feel or anything. “I can't believe it.”

An ache blooms inside me. Lizzie. Oh god. I feel suddenly lost. Abandoned. It's only now I realize how much I was counting on her coming home. On being able to talk to her, to finally get to the bottom of all this.

To get my best friend back.

I sink onto the sofa, leaving her mum standing. I have to. My legs won't keep me up any longer.

“Can't you get hold of her?” I ask, bewildered. “I mean, can't you make her come home? This is crazy.”

Lizzie's mum studies me for a moment then sits in the chair opposite, perching on the edge in a way that suggests she doesn't intend to be there long.

She wants me gone, I can see that. I'm making her feel even worse.

“Do you think I haven't tried, Sarah? She doesn't answer her phone or return my calls. When she does ring, she refuses to tell me where she is. I went to the police but they won't do anything – they say she's eighteen now, old enough to make her own decisions. There's nothing they can do.”

I gaze at her, my mind reeling through the options.

“I've even got hold of her father,” Lizzie's mum adds, beating me to it. “Asked him to go and find her. But we don't know where to start looking. After all, Cornwall's a big place.”

“I don't understand.” My hands are shaking and I press them between my knees to make them stop. “Why isn't she coming home?”

Her mum sighs and leans forward, her expression anguished. “I don't know, Sarah. I have no idea.” She clenches her fists, digging her nails into the palm of her hands. “I haven't a clue what's going on with her. Haven't for some time, to be honest.”

I swing my gaze up to hers. “How do you mean?”

Lizzie's mum pauses. Gives me a searching look as if weighing something. “I'm not sure quite how to describe it. She's been so…well…moody, for months now. Just sitting in her room, barely saying a word to me or Toby.” She bites her lip and stares out the window behind me.

I study her features. I can see a world of pain there. And worry. And wonder if Lizzie has any idea what she's putting her mum through.

But why? I ask myself again. Lizzie and her mum were great together. More like best mates than mother and daughter, ever since her dad left. I guess they felt it was just the two of them – and Toby, of course.

I even felt a little jealous sometimes, watching them. Like I was somehow the odd one out.

“Who's she with?” I ask. “In Cornwall, I mean. She can't be there on her own. I asked around in college and no one seems to know who she went with.”

Lizzie's mum gazes at me. I can tell she's wondering if I know more than I'm letting on. “I've no idea about that either. She won't tell me. But I get the impression she's got a boyfriend.”

A boyfriend?
Since when?

I stare down at my feet, feeling as if I've been punched in the guts. Lizzie has a boyfriend and she didn't tell me?

But you knew,
I remind myself, flashing back to Lizzie hovering over her phone.
You guessed. It was obvious.

I should have asked her straight out. Made her tell me.

I look back up at Lizzie's mum. “Are you sure?”

She shrugs. “Only from the way she was talking. Nothing specific. I just get the sense she's with someone.”

“Someone she met there?”

“I've no idea, Sarah. I'm sorry. Believe me, I've questioned her over all of this, but she won't tell me.”

I examine my hands. They've stopped shaking, but I feel washed out and empty. I can't take all this in. It's like finding out that your dad's a bigamist or your mum had a secret love child. You think you understand someone. You think you know all about them.

And then suddenly you realize you don't know a single damn thing.

I glance at the clock on the mantelpiece and get up. “I have to go. I've got a lesson in fifteen minutes.”

Lizzie's mum stands too. She looks at me and hesitates. She must read the desolation on my face because she walks over and folds her arms around me, hugging me tight before dropping them back to her side.

“I just don't understand,” I repeat, trying not to cry. “She never said a thing. Not a word. Honestly.”

Lizzie's mum looks at me, her own eyes filled with tears. “Believe me, Sarah, I know
exactly
how you feel.”