The Missing: The gripping psychological thriller that’s got everyone talking... (18 page)

It’s almost impossible to find a parking space near the Bristol School of Art so I park at Trenchard Street car park and walk from there. Maybe Kira is the wrong person to talk to about Jake. Perhaps I should talk to a doctor instead. I watched as Liz slipped into a depression after Lloyd left her in January and I can see the same symptoms in Jake. He’s irritable, he’s got no energy, he doesn’t show any interest in the things he used to enjoy and he spends all his time in his room. But antidepressants take weeks to kick in and he’ll get worse if he loses his job too. He was so proud when he was offered his apprenticeship, so full of dreams about starting up his own business and getting a place for him and Kira. She knows him better than any of us. If anyone can talk him into ringing his boss, she can.

I glance at my watch as I approach the large brown front door of the Bristol School of Art: 1.03 p.m. It’s Monday, Kira’s favourite day of the week because she only has a half-day.

Student after student files out of the building. None of them pays me, a frazzled-looking woman in her early forties in a pair of skinny jeans and a white shirt, the slightest bit of attention. As the crowd starts to thin so does my hope of running into Kira. What if she’s decided to stay to work on her project?

I jump back as a lorry thunders down the road, its huge wheels splashing through last night’s rainfall, and a flash of pink catches the corner of my eye.

‘Kira!’ I speed after her as she hurries down towards the Triangle. ‘Kira, hang on a sec. I need to talk to you.’

She stops in her tracks and turns slowly, weighed down by the camera bag over her shoulder and the large, black portfolio dangling from her right hand.

‘Claire?’ She looks shocked. ‘What are you doing here?’

‘I need to talk to you about Jake. Could we grab a coffee?’

Kira pours hot water into the stainless-steel teapot, then dips a spoon into it and stirs. Her cheeks flush when she realises I’m watching her.

‘I love vintage stuff like this. I would have loved to have been alive in the forties or fifties. Life was so glamorous back then.’ She closes the lid of the teapot. ‘Is Jake okay?’

I take a sip of my coffee. It’s piping hot and I burn my lips. ‘Has he said anything to you, about what DS Forbes told us?’

‘Not really. But I know he’s angry. He feels guilty too.’

‘Guilty? Why?’

‘He thinks he should have protected Billy. He thinks he’s dead because of him.’

‘He thinks Billy is dead?’

‘I keep telling him that he’s not. He’s alive. I need to believe that, almost as much as you do.’ Her fingers twitch on the tabletop and she glances away, towards the window and the busy street beyond the café. She’s thinking about her dad. He died a couple of years ago. Cancer, I think Jake said.

‘Sorry, Kira. I know this is hard for you too.’

‘Mmm.’ She presses her lips together.

I unzip my handbag and push a tissue across the table towards her. ‘Here.’

‘Thanks.’ She dabs underneath her eyes, then takes a deep breath. ‘I just wish … I wish none of this had happened. You’re such a lovely family and you’ve been so kind to me and it kills me to see you all so unhappy. It’s been awful watching Jake tear himself apart after Billy disappeared. Recently I felt like he was getting better. He was enjoying work and going out with his mates again but then the appeal brought everything back and—’

‘DS Forbes turned up.’

‘Yeah. I feel so awful for him but there’s nothing I can do, nothing I can say …’ Fresh tears take the place of the ones that have dried on her cheeks. ‘Do you ever wish you could run away, Claire?’

I think back to my conversation with Sonia, when she told me that my first fugue was my subconscious trying to run away from all the stress in my life. Kira might be nineteen but she’s already gone through so much – dead father, alcoholic mother and now this. She’s shouldering the weight of Jake’s grief and I’ve been so burdened by my own pain I haven’t considered that she might be suffering too.

‘Maybe what you and Jake need is to get away for the weekend? Book a hotel, go to Bath or Weston for—’

She shakes her head.

‘Okay, maybe not. Too close to home.’ I force a smile. ‘How about South Wales? Dad knows someone with a cottage there. I’m sure he’d do mates rates. I’ll tell Jake not to give me any rent money this week. We can manage without it. What do you think? You both need a break.’

‘I’m not sure Jake would come. I can’t even get him out of bed in the morning.’

‘That’s because he’s got nothing to look forward to but he’d do anything for you, Kira. You’re his whole world. You know that, don’t you?’

She nods dumbly, tears still glistening in her eyes.

‘I want you two to be happy. I want you to get your own little flat and have some independence. That’s why I came to meet you. Jake’s boss was on the phone earlier. If he doesn’t ring him this afternoon he’s going to lose his job. If we can convince Jake to go in, just for a couple of days, then he can go away with you. It’ll give him something to look forward to. What do you think?’

She reaches for the teapot and flips back the lid. She closes it again, trapping the wisp of steam that attempts to escape. ‘I don’t know.’

‘You don’t have to make a decision now. Have a think about it on the way home.’

‘Okay.’ She looks back up at me. ‘If you think it’ll help him I’ll ask.’

A wave of relief surges through me. ‘I think it will. Are you going to drink that?’ I point at the tea. ‘Or shall we just go?’

‘Go.’ She nods decisively. ‘Before I lose my nerve.’

We are halfway out of the door of the café when a crowd of teenagers surges up the pavement and forces us to step back.

‘Sorry, sorry.’ A harassed-looking blonde shoots me an apologetic look, then does a double-take. ‘It’s you, isn’t it? Mrs Wilkinson, Billy’s mum?’

It takes me a couple of seconds to place her face.

‘Miss Christian?’

‘Yes.’ As she holds out a hand, half a dozen silver bracelets jangle around her wrist. ‘I saw the appeal on TV a few weeks ago. Has there been any news?’

‘No,’ I say before Kira can interject. ‘Unfortunately not.’

‘Rosie!’ Miss Christian releases my hands and waves at a woman further up the street. ‘I’ll catch up with you. Okay?’

I don’t recognize Rosie but, from the way the teenagers congregate around her, she’s obviously a teacher. I don’t remember her from any of Billy’s parents’ evenings. She must be new.

‘We’re taking them to the open day at the School of Art,’ Edie says, as though reading my thoughts. ‘I’m pretty sure half the kids here aren’t the slightest bit interested but it’s a few hours away from school and …’ She shrugs.

I scan the faces of the pupils surrounding Rosie but don’t recognize any of them. One boy whispers something in another boy’s ear. He’s rewarded with a laugh and a punch to the shoulder. That’s what Billy should be doing now, messing around with his mates, telling jokes and winding them up. Where is he? whispers a voice in my head. Where is he?

‘Billy was a very talented artist,’ Edie Christian says, drowning out the voice.

Is, I want to say. Billy is a very talented artist. But it’s as though someone has placed a band around my chest that’s stopping me from speaking.

Edie’s gaze falls on Kira. ‘Kira Simmons! My gosh, I haven’t seen you since …’

‘I left school three years ago,’ Kira says. ‘I’m doing photography up there.’ She gestures towards her college.

‘Yes, of course. Your GCSE project was about sport, wasn’t it? BMXers and skateboarders?’

‘Sort of. It was about perseverance.’

‘That’s right. Lots of images of scraped knees and jubilant air punches if I remember correctly.’

Kira slips her hand through the crook of my elbow. She tugs me, ever so slightly, away from Edie Christian. At the same time the two boys I’ve been watching disappear into a crowd of people crossing the road and the band around my chest loosens.

‘I didn’t realize you two knew each other,’ Miss Christian says, looking pointedly at Kira’s hand on my arm.

‘Kira lives with us. She’s my son Jake’s girlfriend.’

‘I remember Jake. He was a hard worker. Oh!’ She looks back towards the group of school kids on the other side of the road. ‘I’d better be off. Good to run into you, Mrs Wilkinson. I know you’re probably in touch with Mr Edwards but if there’s anything I can do to help, then do let me know.’

‘Miss Christian!’ I call as she starts back up the street.

‘Yes?’ She turns back.

‘You ran into my husband, Mark, near Gloucester Road.’

‘Did I?’ Her expression changes. It’s the same worried look I saw in the photo. ‘Yes, outside the doctor’s. I remember.’

‘How was he?’

‘Um.’ She looks confused. ‘He seemed well. I’m so sorry, Mrs Wilkinson. I’m really going to have to go. Rosie isn’t legally allowed to take charge of that many kids on her own and …’ She raises a hand in goodbye, then speeds across the road just as the green man turns red.

‘What was that about?’ Kira asks.

‘I don’t know,’ I say. ‘What was she like – as a teacher, I mean?’

I’m interrupted by the muffled sound of my mobile phone ringing inside my bag. DS Forbes said it could take weeks to follow the new line of inquiry. If the call is from him it can only be bad news.

A name flashes on the screen. I press ‘end call’ without picking up.

ICE9:
We need to be careful. I thought I saw your mum at the window last night.

Jackdaw44:
Probably wondering where Dad was.

ICE9:
Where is your dad?

Jackdaw44:
At a conference. If ‘conference’ is another word for fucking someone else.

ICE9:
Do you really think he’s cheating on your mum?

Jackdaw44:
Hello?!

ICE9:
Yeah. I know, but maybe what you saw was a one-off.

Jackdaw44:
And you think I’m the naive one.

ICE9:
I never said that.

Jackdaw44:
You think I’m too young for you.

ICE9:
Did I say that?

Jackdaw44:
No, but I know you’re thinking it.

ICE9:
Mind reader are you?

Jackdaw44:
You seemed a bit nervy last night.

ICE9: a) It was freezing b) We were in the park opposite your house!

Jackdaw44:
I like to take a risk.

ICE9:
You’re not kidding.

Jackdaw44:
Exciting though, wasn’t it? I know it turned you on, the risk that we might get caught.

ICE9:
That wasn’t what turned me on.

Jackdaw44:

ICE9:
I take back the comment about you not being immature!

Jackdaw44:
I’m good though, aren’t I? In bed.

Jackdaw44:
*coughs*

Jackdaw44:
*coughs louder*

ICE9:
Yes, you are. You cocky bastard.

Jackdaw44:
Let’s go to Weston tomorrow. Get a hotel.

ICE9:
I need to work and you need to go to school.

Jackdaw44:
Skive!

ICE9:
You live in a dream world.

Jackdaw44:
And you need to have more fun.

I keep expecting the phone to start up again on the drive back home but it sits silently on my lap the whole way. I should have known Stephen would eventually try and ring when he didn’t get a response to his text message. If he’s looking to kick everything off again I’m going to have to tell Mark what he said when I went into Wilkinson & Son.

I’m not surprised to see Jake’s van still parked in the street but I am surprised to see Mark’s car. If he comes home early it normally means one thing – he’s off to a conference or training day and he’s come back to shower, change and grab an overnight bag.

Sure enough, when I walk into the kitchen with Kira, Mark is sitting at the table, a mountain of paperwork piled up on one of the chairs beside him. He gets up when he sees me and pulls me into a tight hug before holding me at arm’s length and looking into my face. He looks so tender, so loving, so like the man I fell in love with that all the concerns I had about him and Edie Christian flit from my mind.

‘Good day?’ he asks.

‘Interesting.’ I lower my voice as Kira slips past us into the hallway. ‘I went to collect her from college so I could talk to her about Jake. Ian rang this morning. If Jake doesn’t go back to work soon he’s going to get someone else in.’

‘Oh, for God’s sake.’ He raises his eyes to the ceiling, then sighs. ‘Don’t worry. I’m not going to go off on one. I just wish …’

‘I know.’ I reach a hand to the side of his face. ‘We’ll get through this, just like we’ve got through everything else.’

His eyes soften. ‘You’re a good woman, Claire Wilkinson. You know that, don’t you?’

‘Where did that come from?’

‘I was thinking about you on the drive home today, about how strong you are. Sorry.’ He suddenly looks embarrassed. ‘I’m not very good at mushy stuff but I just wanted you to know how much I appreciate you, how much I love you.’

‘It’s not mushy. I need to hear it.’

‘Then I should say it more often, shouldn’t I?’ He kisses me softly on the lips and one of his hands slips down to my waist. He pulls me against him as the kiss becomes deeper and I wrap my arms around his neck and kiss him back. I close my eyes as months of fear, frustration and exhaustion slip away and I lose myself in the embrace. His hands slide from my waist to the sides of my breasts and down to my bum. I tip back my head as his mouth travels from my lips to my neck and a low groan rumbles from the base of his throat.

A scream from upstairs makes us jump apart.

‘What the fuck?’ Mark leaves the room first, sprinting down the hallway and up the stairs, taking them two at a time as I tug my bra strap back over my shoulder and follow after him.

‘Weekend break?’ Jake shouts. ‘You want me to go on holiday when some filthy pervert has done God knows what to my brother? How fucked up are you to even suggest that?’

‘Jake!’ I shout. ‘It wasn’t Kira’s idea. It was mine. I – Kira!’ I reach for her as she shoves her way past me on the stairs. ‘Kira, wait!’

I run after her and grab her wrist as she yanks at the back door handle.

‘Get off me!’ She pulls away, her eyes red-rimmed. Streaks of black eye make-up reach down to her jaw. ‘Please, Claire. Please. Just let me go.’

‘Where are you going?’

‘I don’t know.’ She pulls at the door handle. ‘Everything’s fucked up. I’m fucked up. Jake was right.’

‘He’s not. You haven’t done anything wrong. You’re a kind and thoughtful girl, a good girl.’

‘No, I’m not.’ Her hand falls from the door handle but she keeps her back to me. ‘My dad used to say I was a good girl. He used to tell me every day how proud he was of me and how much he loved me. It didn’t stop him from killing himself though, did it?’

All the hairs on my arms go up. ‘Oh my God, Kira. I had no idea.’

‘I’m going to Amy’s house,’ she says, her voice a monotone.

It takes me half an hour to talk Jake out of his festering pit of a room and down to the living room where Mark is sitting on the sofa with his head in his hands.

‘Where’s Kira?’ Jake says, looking towards the kitchen. ‘I need to talk to her.’

‘She’s gone to a friend’s house.’ I gesture for him to take a seat on the armchair. ‘And you’re going to have to do some serious apologizing if you want her to come back.’

‘She’s got nowhere else to go,’ he says flatly as he slumps into the chair.

‘Give her a ring after you’ve called Ian.’ I hand him the cordless phone. ‘Tell him you’ll be back in work this week.’

‘What if I don’t want to?’

‘What if you don’t want to?’ Mark jumps up from the sofa, his hands clenched into fists at his sides. ‘Do you think I enjoy getting up at the crack of dawn so I can sit in traffic for an hour each day? Do you think I enjoy it when some sour-faced doctor’s receptionist tells me the doctors can’t make the meeting I scheduled three weeks earlier and drove halfway across town to make? Do you seriously think I’d rather go to work when I could stay here and look after your mother instead? Someone has to bring some money in. Someone has to feed this family and keep a roof over our heads.’

Jake claps his hands; a slow, sarcastic round of applause. ‘Well, congratulations. The father-of-the-year award goes to Mark Wilkinson.’

‘Jake, stop it!’ I say.

‘Stop what? It’s all bollocks. All that shit about providing for the family. He doesn’t do it for us. He does it for him. And if we don’t toe the line we get it in the neck. He’s not a father, he’s a fucking dictator and he won’t be happy until I’m dead and buried too.’

I put my hands on his shoulders and shout in his face. ‘STOP IT!!’

He stares at me with such shock, such uncomprehending horror, that it’s all I can do not to burst into tears.

‘Ring Ian.’ My hand shakes as I point at the phone. ‘Ring your boss!’

My heart is beating so hard in my chest I can hear it in my ears.

‘I’m sorry I screamed at you but you’re better than this. Stronger than this. And I won’t stand by and watch you destroy yourself and everything you’ve ever loved. I have already lost one son and I won’t lose you too.’

‘Jake?’ I say as Mark walks silently out of the room. ‘I need you to ring Ian and tell him you’ll be back at work this week. Then I want you to ring Kira and apologize for shouting at her. Okay?’

‘Okay.’ His voice is no louder than a whisper.

Mark is in the bedroom, perched on the edge of the bed, his overnight case packed and zipped at his feet.

‘Tell me to stay,’ he says as I gently close the door behind me. ‘Just say the word and I’ll stay.’

The bed squeaks beneath me as I sit down next to him. ‘No. You should go. And don’t feel guilty.’

‘I do though.’ They’re just three words but they’re so laden with pain and sorrow he seems to bow under their weight.

‘You need to go to work. We need to keep this house.’

‘You’re more important than this house. Jake’s more important than this house.’ His voice cracks as he says his son’s name and I wrap my arms around him.

‘I feel so awful,’ I say as I press my face into the crook of his neck. ‘I screamed at him like a banshee.’

‘You were standing up for me. You’ve never done that before.’

I twist in his arms so I can see his face. ‘Haven’t I?’

He shakes his head. The sadness in his eyes is more than I can bear.

‘I’m so sorry.’

‘You put the kids first – that’s the way it should be.’

‘No.’ I shake my head. ‘It’s not. We should have been a team. I should have supported you.’

‘It doesn’t matter.’ He brushes a strand of hair out of my eyes. ‘At least we’re talking again. Properly talking, I mean.’

‘Mark.’ I pull away, the tiniest bit. ‘I need to talk to you about Stephen.’

He stiffens. ‘What about him?’

‘I’m finished at Wilkinson & Son. I haven’t told him yet. Not officially.’

Mark leans forward and tugs on the zip of his overnight bag, even though it’s already shut. ‘Right.’

‘Don’t you want to know why?’

‘Not really.’ He gives me a long searching look and my cheeks flush warm. He knows I’m hiding something but, like me, he doesn’t want any more arguments. This is the closest we’ve been in months and neither of us wants to shatter our fragile truce. ‘So what do you think you’ll do now? Get another job or wait until after DS Forbes gets back to us with—’

A knock at the bedroom door interrupts him.

‘Yes?’

The door opens slowly, revealing Jake in the doorway with the landline phone in his hand. He shifts his weight from one foot to the other.

‘I rang Ian,’ he says, looking directly at me. ‘I’m going in later this week. I rang Kira too. She’s sleeping on Amy’s floor tonight. I said I’d pick her up in the morning.’

He looks so broken, so contrite, so deeply ashamed that my heart twists in my chest. One of my sons is missing and the other is falling apart in front of my eyes. I have never felt so powerless or so impotent in my life.

‘Wait …’ He holds up a hand, palm out, as I move to stand up and hug him. ‘There’s something else I need to say. Dad. I … um … I just wanted to say sorry. I …’ His gaze drops to the floor and he swallows. ‘I was out of order. I’m sorry. I just … I was angry and …’

‘It’s okay, son.’ Mark steps over the suitcase and crosses the bedroom. ‘I understand.’

Hug him, I urge silently. Please just hug him. But only one of Mark’s arms reaches for his son.

‘You look after your mum,’ he says as he grips Jake’s upper arm and gives it a squeeze. ‘I’ve got to go.’

He turns to look at me. ‘I’ll be back on Sunday night. Give me a ring if anything happens. I’m only in Gloucester.’

‘Of course,’ I say. ‘We’ll be fine. Won’t we, Jake—’

But our son has already slipped away into the shadows.