Alison half-expected the police to be constantly in touch even if no news were forthcoming. Yet Friday night passed without any contact.
‘I think I’ll ring them,’ she kept saying to Matthew.
‘No point,’ he said. ‘If they had any news we would be the first to be told. Things take time.’
On Saturday morning, when they looked out to see that it had been snowing overnight, Alison was more distraught than ever. She rang the police station and asked to speak to Sergeant Miller, the officer who had called the day before. He was not on duty. Another voice told her that everything that could be done was being done, and, yes, of course they were taking it seriously. A second voice confirmed that a withdrawal had been made from Nesta’s bank account on Wednesday afternoon.
‘So you see,’ said Matthew, ‘they are doing things, probably more than we know about.’
The police really had been busy on the Gwynns’ behalf. Quite apart from the visit to the bank, they had also contacted Mrs Powell and persuaded her to drive down to the school early on Saturday morning to find the address of Nesta’s best friend.
‘We do appreciate this,’ said Sergeant Miller. ‘There is every chance that this friend of hers will be able to give us information. To be honest, I don’t think there’s any real worry here: the kid’ll be hiding out somewhere making sure she gets her own way.’
‘What puzzles me,’ said Mrs Powell, ‘is that this is the first I’ve heard of their going back to Boston. It can’t be imminent.’
‘Kid must have thought it was,’ said the sergeant, ‘but you know what they’re like at that age. They overreact.’
‘Amy,’ called her mother after the policeman on the threshold explained the reason for his visit, ‘do you know anything about Nesta?’
Amy came along the hall with a feeling of relief that endowed total innocence. It was nearly noon. Whilst her mother was shopping, with Gerry in tow, Amy had rapidly disposed of the rubbish, and returned Grandpa’s greatcoat to the wardrobe in the spare room. She had even put Nesta’s school clothes in the weekend bag she kept on the floor of her bedroom cupboard. That was a lucky last-minute decision!
She looked suitably puzzled.
‘Nesta,’ she said. ‘What about Nesta?’
Sergeant Miller looked down at the stocky child who appeared much younger than he had expected.
‘Your friend’s gone missing. Her mum and dad are worried about her. Have you any idea where she might be, pet?’
Amy looked at her mother and then at the policeman.
‘I saw her at school on Wednesday,’ she said, trying her best to avoid the direct lie. ‘I did think she wasn’t feeling well.’
‘She didn’t say she might not be going home?’
‘No,’ said Amy (‘might’ didn’t come into it!). ‘She just went for her bus the way she always does.’
Amy’s face reddened, but at the same time her eyes filled with very convincing tears. Her mother put one arm around her shoulders. Nobody said, ‘Was that the last time you saw her?’ So there was no need to lie after all.
‘I’m sorry we can’t help you, officer,’ said Mrs Brown. ‘I just hope you find her soon. You will let us know, I hope. Amy and Nesta are very friendly at school. They don’t see much of each other out of school of course: the Gwynns live a fair way from here.’
‘Would you mind if we have a quick look round the back of the house?’ said Sergeant Miller. ‘We reckon she must have found somewhere to hide out. And it’s routine to look at all possibilities, however unlikely, but I reckon you’ll know that already.’
Mrs Brown opened the door wider to admit the sergeant and his constable.
‘You can look, of course,’ she said, ‘but you’ve heard what Amy said. I doubt if Nesta could sneak in anywhere without her knowing. I am not even sure if she knows where we live.’
The two policemen went through to the backyard. They inspected the garage where a surly-looking young man was busy cleaning his motorbike.
‘My son, Jack,’ said Mrs Brown, who followed them. ‘He’s home for the weekend.’
Jack shrugged his shoulders and went on with what he was doing. That was the cool thing to do. Jack was cool. He had already seen Amy pottering about and had totally ignored her, as she knew he would.
The policemen found no sign of Nesta at all, not in the yard, nor the garage, not even in the Karaoke box, which they turned upside down. Amy stood in the kitchen doorway watching, and beneath her look of misery she found it very hard to hide a certain smugness. It was, after all, quite an achievement to have hidden her friend undetected for so long. The misery was genuine too, however, for now she was no longer Nesta’s protector. She might have helped her friend into danger. That was an awesome responsibility.
Just after the policemen left, Mrs Brown remembered the arc of disturbed snow, the evidence of a night intruder.
‘I wish I had told them about that tramp,’ she said. ‘They should keep a look out for people like that. I’ll have to mention it to the Neighbourhood Watch. Mr Huddy should be told.’
To connect the intruder with the runaway schoolgirl never occurred to her. Amy breathed easy, but her conscience was beginning to supply her imagination with all manner of horrific scenarios. Sunday could not come too soon!