‘Linda’s missing!’ Jean burst into the kitchen, dragging a weeping Jacqueline behind her.
‘What?’ Startled, Patrick threw his newspaper onto the floor and jumped up from his chair. ‘What’s wrong with Jacqueline? Why is she crying?’
‘It’s Linda, we can’t find her,’ she shrieked at him, furious he just stood there and didn’t listen.
‘What the hell are you talking about?’ Patrick picked Jacqueline up. ‘You okay, love?’
‘She’s fine. Didn’t you hear what I said?’ Dear God, she’d hit him in a minute. ‘It’s Linda who’s missing.’
‘Where were you? When she went missing?’
‘Does that matter?’ Jean screamed, pushing her face into his. ‘Just for once, in these last six months, try concentrating on your family – instead of that.’ She flung an arm towards the ceiling.
‘Whoa!’ Patrick reddened in anger. ‘Back off. Just where were you and Ellen when she went missing?’ he repeated.
Jean suddenly calmed. Breathing heavily she didn’t speak.
‘Pub?’ he said sarcastically.
Jacqueline buried her face into her father’s shoulder.
‘Where was your cousin when you last saw her, sweetheart?’ Patrick held Jacqueline’s chin, made her look at him. ‘Did she say she was going somewhere? Did she say anything at all?’
She should tell them it was her fault, that she’d seen Shirley and Anne Taylor skipping and she hadn’t waited for Linda coming back from the chippy. ‘No,’ she gulped. ‘She ran off and left me.’
‘Right. I’ll go and see what’s happening. Get Jack dressed and get the three of you to Henshaw Street.’
Then he’d gone.
Jacqueline clutched hold of Jean’s skirt. Her face was red, screwed up with the effort of not crying, not showing how frightened she was.
Jean forced a smile. ‘Tell you what we’ll do. We’ll get Jack dressed, like Dad said … you’ll help me, won’t you?’ Jacqueline sniffed and wiped her nose with the heel of her hand, but she nodded. ‘Then we’ll all go to Linda’s house and I’ll bet, by the time we arrive, she’ll be there, waiting to tell you all about her adventures.’