Local Girl Missing (16 page)

You’d be surprised how dedicated I am these days, Soph. It turns out that I enjoy running a business after all. I never thought of it as a substitute for a family, a life, until now. Since my marriage ended I just jogged along, not really thinking of the future, just living day to day, throwing myself into my job, the occasional non-serious love affair. Now I know I was living half a life, waiting, as though I always knew that eventually I’d be exactly where I am now. It was inevitable somehow.

‘Anyway, I need to get back to your dad. Just thought you’d like to know.’

‘I’ll be home in a few days, hopefully. Tell Dad I love him …’

She hangs up without saying goodbye.

I order another cappuccino and I’m just about to ring the hotel manager, Stuart, for an update when my mobile buzzes in my hand and Daniel’s name flashes up. I contemplate ignoring it and letting him sweat a bit more. Hopefully he thinks I’ve gone back to London, and if I did would he really care? He only wants me here to help him find out what happened to you. But we are no closer to knowing anything now than we were on Friday. After the sixth ring I relent and answer it.

‘Frankie?’ He sounds tense.

‘I thought you’d be at work.’

‘I am,’ he says and, as if on cue, a phone rings in the background. I imagine the busy newsroom, although I’ve only seen it once, when we were at school. It’s bound to have changed. ‘Where are you?’

‘In a café. In Bristol.’

‘Bristol? Why?’

I sigh. ‘I needed to get out of Oldcliffe. It’s so oppressive.’

‘There’s nothing wrong with Oldcliffe,’ he says, his voice laced with defensiveness.

I stay silent; there is no point arguing with him. What was I thinking? I’d never be happy living in Oldcliffe-on-Sea again and he loves the place. It’s just as well that he has this Mia. It would never have worked between us.

‘Are you OK, Franks?’

I feel a flash of irritation. It’s all his fault. I trusted him.

‘No, I’m not,’ I hiss into my mobile. ‘I saw you last night. With Leon.’

‘Leon?’ He sounds perplexed. ‘I wasn’t with Leon last night.’

I take a deep breath, vigorously stirring my cappuccino. ‘I saw you, Daniel. You crossed right in front of my car. You were with Mia too, heading for the Seagull. I thought you hated Leon. What’s going on?’

‘I do hate Leon. I certainly wouldn’t go drinking with him. I was with a bloke from work. He’s a sub. New to the area. I said I’d meet him for a pint.’

‘What’s his name?’

Is he lying to me?

‘Rob.’ He doesn’t miss a beat.

Could I have been mistaken? It really looked like Leon. Am I imagining him now, just like I’m imagining you?

‘What does Rob look like?’

Despite the noise of the coffee machine, I can still make out the note of repressed irritation in Daniel’s voice. ‘I don’t know … he’s tall. Dark, curly hair.’

Like Leon? I want to ask, but don’t.

‘I wasn’t with Mia either,’ he adds sadly. ‘We had a row. That was Trish, our receptionist.’ I can hear the words he refuses to say. I know the argument was about me.

‘I hate Leon,’ I blurt out, remembering with fresh humiliation how nasty he was to me in the car yesterday. I fill Daniel in on our conversation.

‘You shouldn’t have gone to see him on your own,’ he says when I’ve finished. ‘We don’t know yet if he’s responsible for Sophie’s death. He could be a killer, Frankie. No matter how good-looking you obviously find him.’

It gives me a small, jubilant thrill to detect the note of jealousy in his voice. ‘I don’t think he’s good-looking. Not any more,’ I say. ‘And you’re right, I think he did harm her. He must have had something to do with her disappearance.’

How could I have doubted Daniel? He’s one of the good guys, fundamentally decent with a strong moral
code. He might have played up at school and liked a drink, but he was never nasty. I remember how he used to refuse to kill spiders, irrespective of how scared we were of them, and the way he was so overprotective of you. The man of the house, he was always there for you. It would make me feel envious, wishing I’d had a big brother to look after me. He would do anything for anyone. He’d do anything for me. I just wish I’d appreciated it more eighteen years ago.

There’s a pause on the other end of the line. If it wasn’t for the background noise of the newsroom – the ring of phones, the low hum of conversation – I would have assumed he’d hung up on me. Eventually, he says, ‘Listen, someone called the newsroom, spoke with one of my reporters. They didn’t leave a name but they suggested we talk to Jez.’

‘Jez? He still lives in Oldcliffe?’

I haven’t thought about Jez for years. All the girls liked him, mainly because he was a DJ, but he was a coke-head with the brains of a rocking horse.

‘Yes. Although I haven’t seen him since I’ve been back. It didn’t occur to me to speak to him about Sophie, but he was the DJ that night. He would have seen all sorts.’

I start to cough and have to take a sip of my coffee, now lukewarm. My throat feels scratchy. I hope I’m not coming down with anything. Spending days in that freezing apartment isn’t good for my health.

Daniel sounds serious as he continues: ‘The caller
left a message, told us to meet Jez at the abattoir at two p.m.’

What he says next sends me into a cold sweat. ‘He says he has important information about that night and if we don’t go and meet him he’ll take it straight to the police.’

I tried to avoid Alistair for the rest of yesterday. I hung around Room 11 for fifteen more minutes until it was the end of my shift. Luckily it was just Frankie and her mum in the dining room clearing away the breakfast things when I came down. Frankie had her arms stacked with greasy plates, a slither of bacon fat trailing over the edge of the top one. It made me feel queasy to look at it.

‘Where have you been, Sophie?’ asked Maria.

I stared at her, speechless. Her attractive face was flushed, dark curls escaping from her hairband. She still has a slight Italian accent, even though she’s been living in the UK since her early twenties. I could feel my face grow hot and I felt ashamed just looking at her. I had snogged her husband, he had tried to kiss me again, proclaimed his love for me. It was all so wrong.

‘I’m not feeling too well, Mrs Howe …’ She was always Mrs Howe; I sensed that she preferred it that way. Alistair had always insisted that I call him by his first name. He said ‘Mr Howe’ made him sound old.
Like his dad. Now I realise he wanted me to see him as someone young, funky. Not a dad. And especially not my best friend’s dad.

‘What’s the matter?’ she barked. Mrs Howe is not particularly maternal. She loves Frankie, fiercely, although Frankie can’t always see that. She says her mum is always putting her down, but I think she just wants the best for her. But she isn’t a cuddly sort of mum; she’s no-nonsense, sharp. Not like my mum. My mum might work all the hours God sends, but when she’s home she likes nothing more than to cuddle up with me and Daniel on the sofa and watch television.

‘I feel sick,’ I said truthfully. ‘And my shift has nearly ended anyway.’

‘You’d better be off then,’ she said with a dismissive sniff, turning away from me and ushering Frankie into the kitchen. ‘See you tomorrow.’ Frankie flashed me a concerned look over her mother’s shoulder but I couldn’t meet her eye. I had betrayed her. I’d betrayed both of them.

I scuttled through the dining room and into the hallway as fast as I could, my head down, my chin almost on my chest, as though trying to disappear, hoping that I wouldn’t bump into Alistair. But he was standing at the front door.

He was blocking the entrance. I wanted to scream at him. But Maria might be in earshot.

‘What have you been saying?’ His green eyes assessed me. They were cold, accusing.

‘I’ve told Maria –’ I looked up at him to meet his
gaze ‘
Mrs Howe
– that I’m not feeling well. My shift has nearly ended anyway.’

‘You won’t say anything, will you?’ He hung his head.

‘Of course not,’ I said and then I lowered my voice. ‘But you have to understand: it was a mistake.’

‘I know, I’m sorry.’

I felt a surge of relief. It was a moment of madness, for both of us. A stupid kiss, that’s all. No damage done.

He took a step towards me. I could smell his musky aftershave, the faint whiff of coffee on his breath. He must have sensed me softening towards him because he reached out and touched my hair. ‘Oh Soph,’ he said, his voice full of … what? Longing? Regret?

‘Alistair,’ I pleaded, ‘I need to go home.’

‘Let me walk you?’ He removed his hand from my hair.

‘You can’t.’ I wanted to get away from him.

‘You’re not feeling well – I want to make sure you get home OK. What’s wrong with that? I can drive you. It’s perfectly innocent.’

‘It’s ten minutes away.’ I felt on the edge of tears. ‘I can walk.’ The flocked wallpaper in the hallway was closing in on me. The air smelt musty, the remnants of fried egg and bacon still evident.

‘I’m not letting you walk home,’ he said, his jaw set in determination. I’d seen that look before, a hardness around his mouth and chin. I remember seeing it the night Jason died, when he convinced us that we couldn’t
go to the police. ‘I’m not letting you out of here until you say I can drive you home. I’m not going to do anything, Sophie.’

I wondered if I should scream. It would make Maria and Frankie come running. I could just imagine their faces, eyes round, mouths open, frozen in horror. But then what? What would I say? That Alistair had tried to kiss me upstairs, that he thinks he’s in love? Or that I had kissed him first? Would they accuse me of leading him on? I imagined the hurt in Frankie’s eyes and in her mother’s. Her parents might end up getting divorced and it would be all because of me.

‘Alistair …’ I tried another tack. ‘It would look weird if you drove me home. What would Mrs Howe say?’

He pooh-poohed this at once. ‘Nonsense. Maria would want me to drive you home. It would look weird if I didn’t. You’re ill. You look really pale.’

I felt I had no choice. I was desperate to get out of there. So I let him lead me to his car, which was parked across the road from the hotel, overlooking the beach. He had his arm linked through mine, forcing my body close to his so that our hips touched. People edged past us, laughing and jolly. Families on holiday. Couples enjoying the sun. If anyone saw us who didn’t know us, they would think we were father and daughter. He stopped in front of his black BMW.

‘Get in,’ he said when we reached the passenger side. He smiled sweetly at me but it didn’t reach his eyes. I contemplated making a run for it. With every fibre of my being I didn’t want to get inside his car.

He reversed and pointed the nose of his car towards the Birds Estate. Traffic was slow, vehicles queuing to get in and out of town, people constantly walking in front of the cars to get to the beach, clutching their bags bulging with towels and sun cream, buckets and spades. The sky was a powder blue, scattered with gossamer clouds. Everybody looked happy, relaxed, but my body was stiff with tension.

Alistair didn’t talk to me at first. His eyes focused on the road, his foot stop-starting on the pedals. He cursed softly under his breath every time another person meandered in front of the car. ‘Bloody tourists,’ he sighed again and again. ‘Clogging up the town.’

‘It would have been just as quick for me to walk,’ I said. The air con was on; I could feel it brushing my toes in my flip-flops. The cold air caused goose pimples to pop up on my arms. A musk-scented air freshener that looked like a set of traffic lights hung from the mirror, the smell making my nausea worse.

‘I’m worried about you,’ he said. And then he reached over and put his hand on my knee. I slapped it away.

‘Stop it!’

His mouth was set in a straight line. ‘I’m sorry, I didn’t mean that. But come on, Soph. You’re lying to yourself if you say you don’t feel anything for me. You’re here now, aren’t you?’

‘Because I felt I had no choice.’ Why wasn’t he getting the hint? My stomach tightened with anger, my legs sticking to the leather seats.

‘Oh, but we’ve always got a choice,’ he laughed. It
had a nasty ring to it, reverberating around the car so that the atmosphere between us became something else, something sinister. ‘I know how you feel about me,’ he said, ‘and I won’t stop until you admit it.’

I glared at him, fury burning in my chest. How dare he! ‘Then what? We go and tell Maria? And Frankie? You leave them, for me? We go and set up house together? What the hell do you think is going to happen?’

His eyes widened in shock. I’d shocked myself too with my outburst. I usually try and take my mum’s advice of thinking before speaking. But I was knotted up with anger and the words had just come tumbling out.

‘I don’t want to leave my family,’ he said. ‘I love them.’

I breathed a sigh of relief. ‘Great. So now you can see where I’m coming from.’

But his next words sent a chill through me: ‘No. I love you too.’

I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. ‘So, what? You want me as a mistress, is that it?’

He shook his head. ‘You make it sound so sordid. I can’t help the way I feel.’

‘But …’ I said desperately. ‘Alistair, we kissed. Once. It was a mistake. You’re my best friend’s dad. I’ve known you for years. But you’re acting like …’

‘Like what?’

‘You’re acting crazy.’

‘There was always something between us – we just didn’t realise it. Until now.’

I wanted to cry with frustration. What could I say to make him realise he was acting like a deluded fool? A man stepped in front of the car, causing Alistair to slam on the brakes. The traffic was still heavy in front of us. I found the door handle, my fingers quickly feeling for the latch. Relief coursed through me when I realised he hadn’t locked it. I opened the door before Alistair could work out what I was doing.

‘I’m not interested, so get that into your thick head,’ I hissed as I jumped out. The vehicle in front wasn’t moving and, unless he abandoned his car in the middle of the road, he couldn’t follow me. ‘Leave me alone in future.’ And I slammed the car door on his stunned face and then ran onto the promenade and down to the beach, safe in the knowledge that he couldn’t follow me.

I phoned in sick today, pretending I have a stomach bug. I can’t face him, Frankie or Maria. I need to stay out of Alistair’s way until he comes to his senses.