My knees are pulled tight to my chest. My back rests against the headboard as I cuddle the cushion embroidered with A daughter is a lifelong best friend. Tears roll silently down my face. She gave it to me for Mother’s Day two years ago. We’d begun arguing more when she started secondary school, something that had greatly upset both of us, as we’d always gotten along well. I knew it was to be expected. But I’d always loved the idea that Teigan and I were different. We were above all that.
I’d given her a card, telling her how proud of her I was for finishing her first term at high school and also telling her that I wasn’t just her mother, but her friend, too. I wanted her to feel like she could tell me anything, especially if there were any girls at school being nasty to her. The card had really gotten through to her, and we’d spent a lovely evening bonding over everything, eating copious amounts of Doritos and dip.
A few weeks later was Mother’s Day, and Teigan presented me with the cushion, branding our relationship as best friends, as well as mother and daughter. I’d cried, happy tears.
Now, I could only wish for happy tears.
My phone vibrated on the bedside table. It was a text message.
Monty Shepherd is dead. Topped himself. Police know you asked me to look into him. So thought better warn you. Nancy.
I stared at the screen, stunned. A cold numbness spread through my body. He’d killed himself. Because of me. I texted her back, fury and panic firing inside of me.
What? How? Did you tell the police I asked you?!
She replied back instantly, her message as cold as her heart.
Yes. They asked me, so I told them. I don’t recall we had an agreement about anonymity. Hung himself in his flat. Good riddance. One less of them in the world.
I threw the phone across the bed and dropped my head into my hands, my own words about paedophiles not being monsters and needing support echoing in my mind. I imagined him hanging from a lightshade, a rope around his neck, his eyes bulging wide. What had I done?
An hour later, Steph had just about finished force-feeding me dinner.
“You sure you don’t want any more of this stir-fry? The rice noodles will go weird if you reheat it.” She busied herself in the kitchen, putting the pots and pans in the dishwasher.
“I’m fine.” I stared dead in front of me, my mind replaying what I had seen in the therapy. The way I had grabbed at Teigan’s scarf to stop her leaving, the sound of her pained yelp.
I stayed exactly where I was, cross-legged on the floor, back against the sofa, until Steph walked over with my phone in hand. “Someone from your work? Hilary?”
Why the hell was she ringing me? Why wasn’t she leaving me in peace to dwell on the nightmare that had become my life? I took the phone begrudgingly from Steph. “Hi?” It wasn’t a question, but I wanted an answer for why she was ringing me.
“Suzanne, so sorry to call you. I said they should leave you alone, but they insisted you’d want to know.”
“Who insisted? Know what?”
“The CMFC lot.” Another bubble of panic needled at me; the CMFC stood for Children Missing From Care, which could only mean one thing.
“Who?” My brain was scanning through the kids it was most likely to be.
“Carly Dannot,” Hilary answered. “She’s been missing since yesterday and–”
“Yesterday?” My heart started to race. When did Carly text me on my personal phone? Had she gone missing soon after then?
“Yes. At first her foster mother, Anita, thought she’d just got carried away, didn’t bother coming home on time, you know. But when she never came back, she called it in. The CMFC lot have been working it, but as it’s now official weekend hours, the EDT team is picking it up.”
The Emergency Duty Team.
Hilary carried on. “Anita was saying what a good relationship Carly always had with you and that you’d been to see her recently, just before, you, uh, went off sick.” Hilary sounded awkward for a moment. “I’m sorry to bother you with this. The CMFC lot thought you might know something.”
“No, no, it’s fine.” I meant it. For Carly to be missing and me to be blissfully ignorant — well, life was hardly blissful, but, still, that would have felt like a great injustice in itself. “Who do I contact in EDT?”
“Are you sure you’re okay with this, Suzanne? With everything going on?”
I thought about the last time I’d seen Carly and the last time I’d seen Teigan. There was something about Carly that had always reminded me of Teig. I had no idea what to do about Teigan, but there was still something I could do for Carly. I pulled myself off the floor and grabbed a pen from the coffee table. “The contact for EDT, please, Hilary.”