The following afternoon Andee and Maureen, appearing calmer than Andee suspected she felt, were staring at each other across the kitchen table, where a homemade coconut cake – Penny’s favourite when she was young – and the best china were neatly set out as a welcome. It was only ten minutes to three, but they’d been ready for over half an hour, and now they’d finally run out of words that hadn’t already been spoken dozens of times that day.
First thing this morning Maureen had said, ‘I texted her the address. She’ll probably remember it was Granny and Grandpa’s place when she sees it.’
Feeling certain Penny already knew where they were, Andee said, ‘Did she ask for it?’
‘No, but I thought I should send it anyway, just in case she thinks we’re still in Chiswick.’
Deciding not to point out that the first call had come to this house in Kesterly-on-Sea, which didn’t have a London number, Andee said, ‘Did you get a reply to the text?’
Maureen shook her head.
Andee stayed silent, not trusting herself to say anything impartial. Her mother was already stressed enough, she didn’t need her elder daughter’s anger adding to it. But Andee couldn’t understand why Penny seemed to be toying with them.
At ten o’clock they’d driven into Kesterly so Maureen could get the ingredients for the cake as well as pick up some things for dinner in case Penny decided to stay for the evening – maybe even the night.
‘Do you think I should get a room ready for her?’ Maureen had asked during the drive home.
Finding it hard to imagine the woman she’d seen in France settling into their chintzy little guest room, Andee said, ‘Do you want to?’
Maureen didn’t answer. She was distracted, anxious, and Andee understood that, so she let the matter drop and continued to gaze out at the bay where a score of small sailboats were bobbing about the waves like sprightly ballerinas.
Now Maureen said, ‘Maybe I should find some old photographs of her and put them on the mantelpiece with the rest of the family. She might find it hurtful to see she’s not there. Do you think it was terrible of us to take them down? It was just so painful seeing her never getting any older …’
Andee looked at the framed shots of herself and the children, her mother and father, her grandparents and Maureen’s nieces and nephews. There always used to be one of Penny, aged about ten, grinning widely and looking adorably mischievous. It was, Andee realised, how she’d come to remember her sister, since it was the only way she’d seen her for the fifteen or so years that it had been on display. It was as though she’d frozen in time, not as the fourteen-year-old who’d featured in the shots the police had circulated during the search for her, but as a younger, cuter version of the moody teenager with mussed dark hair and shocked, staring eyes.
‘Do you still have any photos of her?’ Andee asked.
‘Of course. They’ll be in the attic with the family albums.’
‘So shall we get them down?’
Maureen regarded her warily. ‘I can tell you don’t think it’s a good idea.’
Andee didn’t, but wasn’t sure why. Perhaps she didn’t want to be too eagerly welcoming with Penny, after all this time.
‘Are you looking forward to seeing her?’ Maureen asked after another pause. Without waiting for an answer, she said, ‘I wonder how she’s feeling right now. Do you think she has far to come?’
Since Andee had no idea, she got up from her seat at the table and pulled her mother into a tender embrace.
‘I wish Daddy was here,’ Maureen said, for what must have been the hundredth time. ‘Or do I? I wouldn’t want him getting cross with her the way he used to. Except he wouldn’t. He’d be nothing but relieved to know she was safe, and it won’t be her fault that she hasn’t been in touch for all these years.’
Though ready to accept that there might well have been a period when Penny hadn’t been in charge of her own destiny, Andee simply couldn’t feel convinced that it had continued for the entire time she’d been gone. Certainly the woman in the Mercedes hadn’t shown any signs of being controlled by anyone but herself.
‘What if she doesn’t come?’ Maureen said now, gazing at the cake.
‘We’ll call Blake and Jenny and have a party,’ Andee quipped.
Maureen’s eyes shot to hers, and at last she managed a smile.
Smiling too, Andee said, ‘If she does come, I’m wondering how we should greet her. With a nice big hug for the long-lost daughter/sister? A polite handshake for a stranger? How about a salute?’
‘Stop it,’ Maureen chided.
‘Do we say hello Penny or hello Michelle?’
‘I think I shall call her darling, or nothing at all, until we can work that one out. I wonder if she’ll call me Mum? She did when she rang.’
Andee tensed as the clock in the hall chimed the hour.
Maureen glanced at her watch. ‘It’s a couple of minutes fast,’ she reminded Andee.
Andee picked up her mobile as a text arrived.
Sorry, running about ten behind. Be there soon. M aka P Xxx PS: I took something of yours when I left, I wonder if you know what it was ☺
Andee’s first thought was, ‘So she has my mobile number too.’ Her second thought, ‘Does she think this is a game?’ She passed the phone to her mother and went to fill the kettle.
‘Do you know what she took?’ Maureen asked.
Andee shook her head. She was feeling angry again; the sense of being controlled, or played, was seriously getting to her. Why on earth wasn’t this gearing up to be the joyous family reunion she’d always imagined if her sister came home, the way her mother deserved it to be?
‘She’s upset you,’ Maureen declared.
Throwing out her hands, Andee said, ‘I just wish I knew what was going on with her. First that bizarre episode in France, then the text about the kitten, now this … Why is she running ten minutes late? Is it deliberate, to show some sort of power over us?’
‘Maybe she came by train and has to wait for a taxi. She should have rung, we could have picked her up.’
Andee looked at her mother and felt a sudden urge to tell her they were going out, that they wouldn’t be here when, if, Penny decided to show, because they had other things to do. Of course Maureen would refuse if she tried, so she didn’t even attempt it. ‘What did you mean yesterday,’ she challenged, ‘when you said that I didn’t know Penny?’
Maureen gave a jerky sort of shrug as she gazed at the cake. ‘I just meant that you two were very different,’ she mumbled.
Reluctant to press her mother, but doing it anyway, Andee said, ‘I think you meant more than that, so is there something you’re not telling me?’
Maureen’s eyes came up to hers, showing how helpless and anxious she felt. ‘Please don’t be angry,’ she implored. ‘We don’t want to be in bad moods when she gets here.’
‘I’m not angry,’ Andee lied, although frustrated might have been a better word.
‘The trouble is you’re used to being in charge,’ Maureen pointed out, ‘but sometimes, and this is one of them, you have to ease up and just go with the flow.’
Amused by the way they were taking turns to bolster one another, Andee returned to the table and looked at her phone again. ‘I should be feeling excited,’ she said frustratedly, ‘I want to believe that everything’s going to be just wonderful, but it’s not happening.’
‘You’re like Daddy. You never automatically trust anyone or anything. It’s a part of having been a police officer.’
‘Are you saying that you trust what’s happening here?’ Andee demanded. ‘That you believe it’s going to be wonderful?’
‘I’m trying to,’ Maureen insisted. ‘And it is wonderful that she’s alive. You have to admit that.’
Knowing she wouldn’t be ready to explore how she felt until after she’d seen her sister, Andee sat down and regarded her mother keenly as they continued to wait. The fact that Maureen had avoided her question about knowing more than she was letting on hadn’t escaped Andee, but now wasn’t the time to push it any further. However, if Maureen thought they wouldn’t return to it she was gravely mistaken, particularly when Andee had always believed she knew everything there was to know about her sister’s disappearance. She’d seen the police files, had even carried out an investigation herself some ten years after the initial, exhaustive search, so what else could there be to know? But her mother’s comment yesterday had made Andee feel that there was something else. If so, it hardly made any sense for her mother to be holding it back, especially from Andee, but Maureen was nervous about something, that much was clear.
It was just after three fifteen when they heard a car pulling up outside.
Maureen’s eyes shot to Andee’s. Her face had paled.
With her insides knotting, Andee said, ‘Do you want me to go?’
‘We both should,’ Maureen replied, and got to her feet.
Feeling strangely disconnected from what was about to happen, as though she was watching rather than participating, Andee led the way along the hall, past her father’s paintings that decorated the cream-coloured walls, to the rarely used front door. He’d painted the landscapes during the worst of his grief, a form of therapy designed to distract him, and in a small way it had seemed to help.
Though Andee had no deep-rooted belief in the afterlife, she couldn’t help wondering if he was watching them now, and if he was, what he was thinking. Did he feel, as she did, that it would be better if their meeting weren’t happening like this, or was he quietly rejoicing that his girls were finally about to be reunited?
No one had rung the bell or knocked on the door, but someone was outside, Andee could see their shape through the frosted glass. She turned to her mother. Maureen’s eyes were bright with emotion. Her hands were bunched at her throat. She looked older all of a sudden, and smaller. She gave Andee a weak smile of encouragement, and feeling as though she was going through the motions of a long-rehearsed scene from some dystopian play, Andee swung the door wide and found herself face to face with the woman she’d last seen in the back of a Mercedes.
She wasn’t as tall as Andee had expected – though Penny had never been tall – or quite as composed as she’d seemed that day in France, but the blonde hair was as immaculate as the make-up, and the outfit as expensive as the leather bag over her arm. Her smile seemed hesitant, even slightly shy, while the curiosity and eagerness in her aqua eyes sent Andee spinning back through the years.
Different and unexpected as she was, any lingering doubt that this was her sister vanished along with whatever Andee had intended to say.
‘I’m sorry I’m late,’ Penny said, and Andee, disoriented by her own emotions, turned round as her mother sobbed.
‘I can’t believe it,’ Maureen gulped, holding out her arms. ‘Oh my goodness, my goodness,’ and as she folded her younger daughter into the agonised tenderness of her embrace, Andee watched from inside a profound sense of unreality. She glanced outside and saw a silver Mercedes at the gate with a suited man in the driver’s seat. Presumably the same car, the same driver that had been in France.
‘Andee,’ Penny murmured holding out an arm.
Realising she was being invited to join the hug, Andee stepped obediently into it.
‘Mummy, my very own mummy,’ Penny smiled through her tears as she clasped Maureen’s hands to her chest. ‘I can’t tell you how good this feels, how I’ve dreamt about this moment … Is it really happening?’
‘You look so … So … grown up,’ Maureen spluttered with a laugh. ‘In my mind I kept seeing you as a teenager, and now here you are …’ She looked at Andee, and Andee remembered to smile.
‘My beautiful big sister,’ Penny enthused, gazing directly into Andee’s eyes. There was something behind the tenderness in Penny’s, a kind of wariness, or amusement, or an emotion too well masked for Andee to read. ‘You’ve hardly changed,’ Penny ran on, ‘apart from to get even more beautiful. I always knew you would. And you’re tall, just like Daddy.’
Was there resentment in her tone? Their difference in height had always been a sore point for Penny. There was none that Andee could detect.
Andee simply smiled again and closed the door.
‘Is anyone else here?’ Penny asked, glancing down the hall.
‘No, we haven’t told anyone,’ Maureen replied. ‘We weren’t sure you’d want us to yet.’
Penny said, ‘So no one’s been here – ahead of me?’
Curious, Andee countered, ‘Like who?’
Penny laughed. ‘I’ve no idea, but I do think it’s important for us to have this time to ourselves, don’t you? There’s so much catching up to do, and we really don’t need all the distractions of the police and media. After all, this isn’t anyone’s business but ours.’
Andee didn’t disagree, but she was preoccupied with wondering if Penny really thought the press and authorities were ahead of her, or if her question had been about someone or something else entirely.
With a playful twinkle Penny turned back to Maureen. ‘There’s so much I want to ask you, and tell you, the question is where to begin?’
In spite of having several suggestions for that, Andee gestured for everyone to go inside.
‘We’ve got tea and coconut cake,’ Maureen announced as they went into the kitchen, clearly waiting for Penny to comment on how wonderful it was that her mother had remembered.
Penny said, ‘I’m sure I’m too excited to eat a thing.’
Hiding her disappointment, Maureen tried again. ‘Maybe we should be having champagne. Oh my, I still can’t believe … Is it really you? I know it is. Andee’s right, you haven’t changed …’
‘Apart from to get older,’ Penny said wryly. She was looking around the room, taking everything in. ‘You’ve redecorated, and the furniture’s different, but it’s still taking me straight back to my childhood and all the school holidays we spent here with cousin Frank. How is he? Are you still in touch with him?’
‘Of course,’ Maureen assured her, starting towards the family photos then apparently changing her mind. ‘He’s married now, and his children are all grown up, like Andee’s.’
‘You have children?’ Penny directed at Andee, appearing delighted. ‘Of course, I should have known you would. What’re their names? How old are they?’
‘Luke’s twenty-one and Alayna’s nineteen,’ Maureen told her proudly. Andee remained silent, appraising Penny, and letting her mother do the talking.
‘So have they left home?’ enquired Penny.
‘Oh yes, a while ago,’ Maureen replied. ‘But we still see them quite often and they’re in touch all the time. Luke’s currently in Africa helping to save rhinos, and Alayna’s at Bristol Uni studying English and drama. She’s planning to go off travelling for a year when she finishes.’
Penny’s eyebrows rose with interest.
‘She decided to take her gap year after she graduates,’ Maureen explained. ‘She’s working and saving very hard to finance her trip.’
Deciding this was enough about her children, Andee said to Penny, ‘What about you? Are you a mother?’
Penny laughed and rolled her eyes. ‘I’ll tell you all about it,’ she promised, ‘but first shall we sit down and have a cup of tea?’
Andee filled the teapot while Maureen fussed about with napkins, listening and chuckling as Penny fondly recalled how she and Andee, with their cousin Frank, used to ride their bicycles down to the caravan parks of Perryman’s Cove, known locally as Paradise Cove, to make friends with kids from all over the world.
‘The world?’ Andee echoed, bringing the pot to the table.
‘OK, the country,’ Penny conceded, ‘but there were a couple of kids from Germany once, as I recall, and you must remember that hilarious hippy family from Ireland.’
Actually, Andee did remember them, the Irish and the Germans, and she wondered if this was an attempt on Penny’s part to prove she wasn’t an impostor.
‘You fell in love with one of the Irish boys,’ Penny teased. ‘He was completely gorgeous. All the girls fancied him, and we were devastated when his girlfriend turned up for the second week. What was his name?’
‘Actually, it was a Welsh boy, Evan, whose girlfriend turned up for the second week,’ Andee reminded her.
‘Oh, that’s right, but it was the same year, I’m sure of it. What was the Irish boy’s name?’
‘I can’t remember.’
‘Well, it was a long time ago, and we were falling in and out of love all over the place back then. How could we possibly remember them all?’
‘I had no idea you were having so many romantic adventures,’ Maureen commented wryly.
‘Oh, it was all perfectly innocent,’ Penny assured her, adding with a wink at Andee, ‘until it wasn’t.’
Wondering why she’d added that when it had never been anything but innocent, Andee poured the tea while blushing Maureen cut the cake.
‘So fancy you living in Granny and Grandpa’s house now,’ Penny remarked, looking around again. ‘I can’t tell you how thrilled I was when I found out. It would be awful to think of strangers here.’
‘Exactly when did you find out?’ Andee enquired mildly.
Penny frowned as she thought. ‘Quite recently,’ she admitted. ‘I guess it was in one of the first reports I received.’
Andee’s eyes flicked to her mother.
Penny laughed. ‘I’m sorry, I have to confess that I hired someone to find out all about you. I felt I had to before I got in touch so I could work out whether or not I’d be welcome. Of course as soon as I was told you’d been a detective, Andee, I knew you’d be sceptical, ready to pick apart anything I said, and I honestly don’t blame you. I’m sure I’d be the same if the tables were turned. All these years and no contact, you must be asking yourself why suddenly now?’
Andee waited for her to answer the question.
‘I’ve wanted to be in touch many times,’ Penny told their mother. ‘I’ve hated holding back, but it’s taken until now for me to feel confident about approaching you.’
‘But you’re my daughter,’ Maureen exclaimed, ‘there was never any reason to hold back.’
Penny smiled and lowered her eyes to her plate. As she lifted a dainty fork to eat Andee noticed that her hands were covered to the base of her fingers by a glove-like extension to her silk sleeves. She was wearing an exquisite gold band studded with yellow sapphires or diamonds on the third finger of her left hand, and a more subtle assortment of rings on the other, but there was no disguising the cracked and flaking soreness of her skin. Penny had never suffered with eczema as a child, but she apparently did now. ‘I needed to be in the right place, up here, to answer your questions,’ she said softly, tapping her head.
‘And you feel you are now?’ Andee asked.
Penny nodded slowly, still not looking up. ‘I think so. It won’t be easy, for any of us, and I kept asking myself if it wouldn’t be better just to let things go on as they were. You’re used to me being gone. The space I left has long since filled up, and I’ve made a new life for myself … Why disrupt it?’
Why indeed, Andee was asking herself. ‘But you decided to,’ she said shortly, ‘and now here you are.’
Apparently unfazed by Andee’s manner, Penny sighed softly as she reached for her mother’s hand. ‘Yes, here I am,’ she said. ‘We’ve got so much time to make up for, so many stories to share.’
Though Maureen was smiling, her eyes were uncertain as they moved briefly to Andee’s.
Understanding that her mother wanted her to continue asking the questions, Andee said, ‘Naturally, the first story we’d love you to share is what happened to you all those years ago. Where did you go? Why could no one ever find you?’
‘Mmm,’ Penny murmured, nodding her head as she gazed absently down at her cake. Then quite suddenly she gasped. ‘This always used to be my favourite. I can’t believe you remembered. I haven’t had it in years. Did you make it?’ Her eyes were bright with surprise and affection as she looked at her mother.
‘Yes, I did,’ Maureen told her, flushing with pleasure. ‘I’m not sure it’s as good as I used to make it …’
‘Oh, I’m sure it is,’ and digging in with her fork Penny helped herself to a generous mouthful. ‘Mmm, it’s perfect,’ she insisted, showering a few crumbs. ‘Oh God, it’s bringing back so many memories.’
Andee said, ‘Such as where you went all those years ago, and why no one could find you?’
Maureen stared an admonishment as all the joy seemed to drain from Penny, and she put her fork down again.
‘That was a strange time,’ she said quietly, ‘and it was so long ago that it feels now as though it happened to somebody else.’
But it didn’t, it happened to you, Andee wanted to point out, so now please tell us what we need to know.
‘It’s not a good story,’ Penny admitted, gazing into the distance, ‘and definitely not one for us to start with. It’ll bring us all down and I think today should be about celebrating our reunion, don’t you?’
Andee would have pressed her, had Maureen not said, ‘You’re right, dear, it should be a celebration, and if it upsets you to dwell on those times …’
‘It does,’ Penny confessed, ‘quite a lot, but I’ve had counselling, and fortunately for the most part I’ve managed to put it behind me. I’m afraid I still have nightmares from time to time, but I have such a lot to feel thankful for now.’
They waited for her to elaborate, but she didn’t. Seconds ticked by, until Maureen said brightly, ‘Well, you look marvellous.’
Penny smiled. ‘Yes, my life is very different now to what it was when I first went away, but a lot of years have passed, and things always change.’
‘So what do you do now?’ Andee enquired.
Penny shrugged as if to say, where to begin? ‘I have an import-export company that we run from London,’ she replied. ‘A real estate and property management company, also based in London. Two medical centres, one in Connecticut, the other in Houston. A travel agency that we run out of Stockholm,’ her eyes danced playfully, ‘and as of about a year ago we have a highly exclusive online dating agency.’
Maureen was clearly as stunned as she was impressed.
Andee said, ‘We?’
‘I have a number of partners,’ Penny explained, taking out her phone as it rang. After checking who it was she said, ‘Will you think me terribly rude? It’s a call I’ve been waiting for and I really ought to take it. I’ll be just a minute,’ and clicking on she announced herself, ‘Michelle,’ as she got to her feet and began speaking in a language Andee couldn’t even identify, much less understand.
‘Nej, han har inte varit här.’ (No, he hasn’t been here.) ‘Ja, jag är säker.’ (Yes, I’m sure.) ‘Hur tror du det känns att vara tillbaka här?’ (How do you think it feels being back?)
Penny laughed in a vaguely bitter way. ‘Allt är ett spel, det bara beror på hur man spelar det.’ (Everything’s a game, it just depends how you play it.)
Andee watched her mother’s eyes following Penny out of the back door on to the patio. They had no idea what had been said, or who Penny had been talking to. The phone call, the incomprehensible language was emphasising more than ever what different worlds they inhabited.
Turning to Andee, Maureen murmured, ‘She’s obviously doing very well for herself.’
Andee said, archly, ‘And managing not to tell us very much.’
Maureen’s nod was slow, pensive.
‘Especially about the time she disappeared. Do you have any idea why she’s being so reticent?’ Andee asked.
Hearing the challenge, Maureen looked at Penny again as she said, ‘She just told us, she’d rather not talk about it, and if it was that bad who can blame her?’
‘Mum,’ Andee said darkly.
‘Please don’t be like that,’ Maureen protested. ‘She’s hardly been here … Ssh, she’s coming back.’
Andee watched her sister return, tucking away her phone and breaking into a smile. ‘All sorted,’ Penny declared, closing the door behind her, ‘but I’m afraid time is running out and there are several more calls I need to make.’
‘You can use the front room,’ Maureen offered. ‘You’ll be nice and private in there.’
Penny tilted her head fondly. ‘That’s so kind of you, but I’ve booked myself into the Kesterly Royal for tonight. It’ll be easier if I work from there. I was hoping we could meet again tomorrow before I go back to London?’
‘Yes, yes of course,’ Maureen agreed, glancing at Andee. ‘We’d love that, but it’s been so short today. Are you sure you can’t stay any longer?’
‘I wish I could, really I do, but I’m afraid my time isn’t my own. Could we meet for lunch tomorrow? I hear the Royal has a very good restaurant overlooking the bay.’
‘The Palme d’Or,’ Maureen told her.
Penny came to hug her. ‘I’ll book a table for one o’clock. I hope you’ll join us, Andee.’
‘I wouldn’t miss it,’ Andee assured her, and after coolly returning her sister’s embrace she remained in the kitchen while her mother went to the front door.
‘She’s got a chauffeur,’ Maureen stated when she came back.
Andee raised an eyebrow as she slid Penny’s teacup into a plastic bag. She might not doubt that the woman who’d drunk from it was her sister, but Detective Inspector Gould would almost certainly want to run a more scientific check.
Maureen was staring at the chair Penny had vacated. ‘Did I just dream all that?’ she murmured.
‘Have some more tea,’ Andee advised.
Sitting down, Maureen pushed her hands through her hair as Andee poured.
Andee allowed several minutes to pass before she spoke in a quiet, but steely voice. ‘I really don’t know what’s going on with her,’ she said, ‘but why is she in touch with us now after allowing us to think she was dead for so many years? I think there’s more to it than her being ready to reconnect.’
Maureen flicked a glance her way, but said nothing.
‘Mum, please talk to me. I feel like you’re keeping something back …’
Maureen shook her head.
Andee took a breath. ‘As you said yourself, I never automatically trust anyone or anything, but you usually do. And the fact that you’ve been more nervous than excited about seeing Penny is telling. I’m getting the sense that you know more about her disappearance than you’re letting on, and it’s tearing you apart.’
‘OK, OK, but it’s not what you … Actually, I don’t know what you think, but it’s been so long since we talked about her, I mean really talked about her, and you’ve either forgotten, or chosen to forget what she could be like.’
Accepting that was at least partly true, Andee waited for her to continue.
‘It’s not unusual,’ Maureen told her. ‘When someone dies, or disappears the way she did, you only remember the good things. It’s human nature; it’s the same for everyone. You put all the other things out of your mind. I told myself she was just a child, that they had nothing to do with why she went, and I still don’t know that they did.’
‘What other things?’ Andee asked.
‘You really don’t remember?’
‘Why don’t you just tell me?’
Maureen swallowed hard and ran her hands over her face. ‘Well, there were times,’ she began, ‘that I felt your sister did things deliberately to make herself … to annoy or even to hurt people. She didn’t seem …’ She shook her head. ‘She never really seemed sorry when she said it, or to care if she was punished. She’d put on a show of being upset … Sometimes I think the tears were real, but there were other times … I don’t know, it was like she was behaving the way we thought she should rather than the way she felt.’
‘Did you ever talk to Daddy about her – behaviour?’ Andee asked.
‘Actually, we talked about it endlessly before she went and after she’d gone. We never knew if the depressions were genuine, or if they were something she’d read about and decided to pretend were afflicting her. I mean, obviously something was wrong or she wouldn’t have been the way she was, or run away as often as she did …’
‘Did you ever find out where she went?’
Maureen shook her head. ‘I think Daddy knew. He never told me, he thought it was best for me not to know …’
‘But she’s your daughter! How could it be best for you not to know?’
‘Times were different back then and your father was very … protective.’
‘How was holding information back from you protecting her?’
‘It wasn’t just her he was protecting, it was me, and you.’
‘From what?’
‘I didn’t ask.’
‘Not even when she didn’t come back?’
‘If your father had wanted me to know, if he’d felt it would help in some way to find her, he’d have told me.’
Stunned by such blind faith, and lack of maternal strength, Andee said, ‘So where do you think she went all those times?’
Maureen sighed. ‘I told myself she was with homeless people, and I think she was …’ When she broke off, Andee used silence to demand more, but Maureen stayed silent too.
‘Mum, you obviously believe something else, even if you never knew it for certain.’
Maureen’s cheeks coloured. ‘OK, I think he found her with men,’ she admitted finally.
‘What men?’
‘I don’t know.’
‘I think you do.’
‘I swear I don’t.’
Andee was ready to scream. ‘Why did you never tell the police what you suspected?’ she cried. ‘It wasn’t in any of your statements …’
‘Your father knew what I thought … what I was afraid of. Andee, please don’t shout at me. If there had been …’
‘Mum, Penny was thirteen the first time she disappeared, and only fourteen when she went for good. That makes her …’
‘I know what you’re going to say, but I’d rather not have it spelt out, thank you very much.’
Andee clutched her head. ‘I can’t believe you’re only telling me this now …’
‘We thought she was dead. Why would I try to make you think badly of her when it wasn’t going to bring her back?’
‘You know I investigated her disappearance. You could have told me then.’
‘Maybe, but you didn’t ask …’
‘I most certainly did. We went over and over your statements …’
‘OK, you did, but if there had been any men you can be sure your father would have found them. Now, if you don’t mind, I’d like a very large glass of wine, and perhaps we can sit quietly for a few minutes while I try to gather my thoughts.’
They were still sitting at the table, silently reeling from the past few minutes, when Maureen’s mobile rang. Seeing it was Carol, her closest friend and Andee’s mother-in-law, calling from Spain, Maureen hesitated.
‘Should I tell her about Penny?’ she asked Andee.
Andee baulked at the very idea. Until she’d managed to straighten things out in her mind she didn’t want anyone else’s thoughts or reactions to cloud it, and certainly not her estranged husband’s, who was currently in Spain with his mother. Carol would be bound to tell him. ‘Let’s see how tomorrow goes first,’ she cautioned, and leaving her mother to it, she took herself up to her room to make some calls of her own.
The first was to the Kesterly Royal Hotel, who politely informed her that they had no one booked in for that night by the name of Michelle Cross, or Penny Lawrence. The second was to her old boss, DI Terence Gould, asking him to call back when he got her message. The third was to Graeme.
After filling him in on the details of Penny’s visit and brushing over the scene she’d had afterwards with her mother, Andee said, ‘So now, you tell me, why has Penny come back after all these years, when she appears to be doing very well, and has no apparent need of us? Because I certainly have no idea.’
Sounding as bemused as she did, Graeme ventured, ‘Sentimental reasons? Even if she’s doing well, maybe it doesn’t mean anything if she has no family to share it with.’
‘We don’t know that she has no family. She didn’t answer the question when I asked, which is odd, or certainly if she’s a mother. Why not just say that she has children – or not?’
‘So her return is something to do with conscience? She feels guilty about not letting you know she’s alive, and now she’s putting it to rights.’
‘She’s had a very long time to do that, and she’s chosen not to. So I go back to my first question, why now? Incidentally, she admitted to hiring someone to find out about us … And let me read you the text she sent before she got here earlier. “I took something of yours when I left, I wonder if you know what it was.”’
‘Do you?’
‘No.’
‘Did you ask her?’
‘I didn’t get the chance. She wasn’t here more than twenty minutes, and during that time all we really managed to get out of her was how successful she is, but even that was vague.’
‘Do you believe it?’
‘She was carrying a Hermès bag, and wearing some expensive-looking jewellery. Oh, and she was driven here by a chauffeur. I’m pretty sure it was the same car that I saw in France.’
‘Did she explain about that? Why she just drove off?’
‘I’ll make sure she does the next time we meet, which is supposed to be at the Palme d’Or tomorrow.’ Making a mental note to check if there was a reservation, Andee said, ‘I called the hotel just now and they don’t have anyone staying there under the name of Michelle Cross or Penny Lawrence.’
‘So you’re thinking she might have another alias? Or she’s staying somewhere else?’
‘I guess anything’s possible. I’ve left a message for Terence Gould to call me.’
Sounding surprised, he said, ‘So you’re going to involve the police?’
‘Off the record, for the moment, because things are definitely not adding up for me. Why, for instance, did she seem to think that someone might have paid us a visit ahead of her?’
‘Really? Like who?’
‘I’ve no idea, but my gut is telling me it could be why she came.’
‘Which leads us to what, exactly?’
‘Good question; I’ll let you know when I have an answer. Oh, and she pretended not to know that I had children, when it surely must have come up in one of her reports. I’d love to know how in-depth they are and how long they’ve been going on.’
‘Indeed. What did you call her, by the way? Michelle or Penny?’
‘I don’t think we called her anything, but she called herself Michelle when she answered the phone. After that she spoke in another language and before you ask, I’ve no idea what it was. Definitely not French or Italian. Could have been Dutch. Actually, she mentioned having a business in Stockholm.’
‘What sort of business?’
‘A travel agency.’
‘Called?’
‘She didn’t say. I wonder if she’ll make it for lunch tomorrow? I have a feeling she won’t.’
‘Well, I guess you’ll find out when you get there, presuming she’s not in touch sooner. Don’t forget to let me know if she is.’