‘That’ll be them now,’ Ted said, when the heavy thumping on the front door rattled the letter box.
Patrick pulled his face. ‘Fat lot of bloody good they’ll be. We should be out there looking for her.’
‘Do you think I don’t know that?’ Ted whirled on him. ‘Just shut the fuck up.’
The three others in the room stared at him. Neither Ellen nor Jean had ever heard him swear before.
‘Sorry.’ Ted locked his fingers on top of his head, watching Patrick stalk off in a temper to answer the door. ‘It’s just that I said we’d all be here when they came.’ He slid his hands down to the back of his neck and stretched. ‘The others are still searching,’ he answered Ellen’s distress, ‘and, as soon as the police have gone, we can get out there again.’
She reached up and touched him. ‘As soon as they’ve gone,’ she said, nodding. Her eyes were almost closed by her constant crying. ‘We have to.’
They listened to the muttered conversation at the door.
‘Detective Hardcastle, Mr Booth.’
‘Well?’ Patrick demanded.
John Hardcastle shook his head. ‘Sorry, no news yet. My boss has asked me to go over a few things with you.’
‘What more can we tell you?’ Patrick cut in, reluctantly moving to one side to let him into the hall before poking his head out into the street. Outside almost every house women stood watching, arms crossed under aproned bosoms, collective expressions of nosy sympathy on their faces. Patrick scowled but then realised there wasn’t a man in sight; they must all still be out looking for Linda. He raised a hand to the women, acknowledging them.
The detective followed Patrick into the kitchen, taking off his trilby. ‘Just making sure we got all the information last night, Mr Booth, Mrs Booth. So we know everything that’ll help us to find your daughter.’ The man paused, looked beyond them at Jean. ‘Miss?’
‘Mrs – Mrs Howarth. I’m Linda’s aunt.’ She rocked Jack in her arms as he slept. His closeness comforted her and she felt a certain satisfaction that she could settle him better than Patrick could these last few days. Though she certainly wouldn’t tell her husband that.
The detective nodded, coughed and turned again to Ted.
‘There is something I need to ask, Mr Booth.’ The detective held the brim of his hat, constantly running it through his fingers. ‘Is it possible Linda has run away?’
Ellen buried her face in her hands. ‘No.’
‘No, she’s a happy child.’ Ted was grey with fatigue. He’d spent the last thirty-six hours searching the streets.
‘She’s seven years old, for God’s sake,’ Patrick shouted. ‘She wouldn’t know where to run to. Bloody idiot!’
The man overlooked his outburst. The uniformed policeman standing by his side raised a warning hand to Patrick.
‘It’s happened in the past,’ Detective Hardcastle said. ‘Children can get very disturbed by things that are happening at home.’
‘Nothing’s happened. Not in this house anyway.’ Jean spoke slowly and deliberately. As she fixed Patrick with a stare, she instinctively stroked Jack’s head. Patrick’s expression softened as he returned her look. He’d noticed how close she was getting to the little boy.
When the detective looked around inquiringly, no one spoke. He shrugged. Without being asked he sat down, adjusting the creases of his trousers. ‘Now I need to clarify a few details from you. Go over what you told us at the station, Mr Booth.’ He took a notebook from his pocket. ‘As I understand it, on Sunday, Mrs Booth was at the band contest with…?’ He looked up.
‘With me,’ Jean said. She lifted her chin in the direction of Patrick. ‘And our daughter, but she knows nothing either. She was playing with some other girls when Linda went to the chip shop.’
‘Perhaps if Jacqueline had stayed with her…’ Ellen gave her an angry look.
‘Now Ellen.’ Ted laid his hand on her shoulder. ‘There are so many ways we could all blame ourselves.’ His voice cracked. ‘If I hadn’t worked…’ He didn’t finish.
Ellen covered his hand with hers. ‘Sorry,’ she said to Jean, ‘sorry.’
‘Don’t worry about it.’ Jean said to her, shaking her head. ‘My husband wasn’t with us,’ she told the detective. ‘He was home looking after this one.’ She rested her cheek on top of Jack’s head. He snuggled closer.
‘Ah, giving you some time off then?’ He smiled at her first and then at Patrick. ‘Not many men would do that, especially on a Whitsunday. Good turn-out too, I hear.’
No one answered.
He cleared his throat. ‘So, if I’m right, the first time you noticed Linda missing was when you’d been to the lavatory at the back of the Crown?’
Both women nodded, avoiding one another’s eyes.
‘And that was about five o’clock?’
‘Yes.’ Ellen whispered, rubbing at her nose with a wet, bunched up handkerchief.
‘And you’ve been searching since then?’ This to Ted.
‘We have.’ Ted nodded. ‘All of us.’ He indicated the three others. ‘And half the street. Nothing.’
‘Right. And it’s just you and Mrs Booth and Linda live here?’
‘We have another child, William. He’s with one of the neighbours. And Jacqueline, she’s there too.’
‘I might have to talk to Jacqueline.’
‘No,’ Jean protested. ‘I don’t want her frightened. I told you, she doesn’t know anything.’
‘We can leave it for now. Perhaps in a few days if Linda hasn’t turned up?’
‘Oh!’ Ellen folded, her head on her knees. She rocked on the chair.
‘She’ll be back. We’ll … someone will find her.’ Jean spoke more to herself.
Ted crouched by Ellen, held her. He looked across at the detective. ‘You asked if there was anybody else living here?’
‘Yes?’
‘My sister-in-law, Mary, is here. My wife hasn’t been well. Mary came to give us a hand with the kids.’
‘Can I speak to her?’
‘She’s in bed, not well herself today. The doctor came this morning and gave her something to make her sleep.’
‘Right, but I’ll have to speak to her sometime.’ It was obvious the detective wasn’t satisfied but he stood up to leave. ‘We’ve got men out searching as we speak. I suggest you leave it to us now.’
‘Not bloody likely,’ Patrick muttered.
‘It would be better if you did, Mr Howarth.’
They looked at one another, both remembering the few times they’d met before. Patrick was no stranger to the police. He gave a mirthless snort.
‘I’ll leave you my details,’ Detective Hardcastle said. ‘Any news, please contact me. Rest assured we’ll do the same. Try to stay calm.’ He looked around at them, his eyes resting last on Patrick. ‘It’s still early in the investigation. She could have wandered off and not known how to get back home. It wouldn’t be the first time a kiddie’s done that.’ He stood. ‘I’ve seen a few in my time in the force.’
Ellen and Ted didn’t move when the policemen left the room.
‘Investigation! Bloody heartless sod.’ Patrick rubbed at the bristles on his chin.
After a moment’s hesitation, still carrying Jack, Jean followed the policemen to the front door.
‘I’ll be in touch,’ the detective said to her. ‘And we’ll carry on searching, Mrs Howarth. I’m sure we’ll find Linda in no time. But we’re going to have to look further afield. I think we’ve covered everywhere around here and there’s been no sighting of your niece. We have to consider all the options.’ He tipped the front of his trilby.
Jean nodded. She watched them get into the black car before closing the door. Heaving a deep sigh she went into the kitchen.
Ellen and Ted were sitting silently at the table. Patrick was smoking at the back door.
‘Are you okay?’ Jean asked. ‘You didn’t say Peter was upstairs as well?’
‘Why complicate things?’ Ted said. Ellen didn’t respond.
Patrick motioned with his head towards the yard and walked outside. Jean frowned and went after him.
‘What?’
‘Bert Rowe told me last night there was a young lad went missing two months ago the other side of Bradlow. They found his body last week near Chester.’
Dear God. Jean put her hand on Jack’s head. Not that, she begged silently, not that.