I finish writing up the letter and will; tuck the flap of the envelope inside itself and then push it under my pillow. I want Lenny to know I’m deadly serious; that I will leave him my house if he can somehow get me some answers today. I may have come across like a right twat having him call out Betsy’s name in Barry Ward’s gaff, but I don’t mind looking like a twat. I’d do anything to find some answers. Her disappearance plagues me every day; her loss from my life eats at me. But it’s the guilt that makes the most impact. It resides in both my stomach and my head, and it won’t go away. It was my fault she went missing. It was on my watch.
I wasn’t a lazy dad; I was just like any other dad – unfocused. Mothers are great at paying their children every nuance of attention. But dads? Fuck no. We’re easily distracted. I was busy working. Guus had managed to bring in two massive clients to our company just before Betsy went missing; they were million euro deals. I was finalising one at home while I was supposed to be looking after my daughter. I think she got bored, walked away from me, walked away from our home. One of the main reasons I feel guilt is because I’m genuinely not sure how long she was gone before I realised she was missing. May have been just ten minutes, could’ve been two hours. I was too consumed with work.
I went into shock when I realised she was gone; ran into the streets shouting her name. I stopped people, asked if they’d seen a four-year-old with mousy brown hair. Nobody’d seen anything. I thought I was going mad. I remember running back into the house and checking everywhere for her; under the beds, in the closets, the washing machine. I even checked the fuckin microwave. I don’t know why. I think I was beginning to lose it. I rang the police before I rang Michelle; knew it’d be a much easier call to make.
‘My child’s gone missing,’ I said matter-of-factly down the line. I know I said it matter-of-factly because it was played back to me about eight times when I was being questioned by Detective De Brun a few days later. I was their first suspect; they assumed I had something to do with her disappearance. By that stage I was convinced it was Keating who’d taken my girl. I told the police about my dealings with him; spilt the beans. But they were still convinced I knew something. I didn’t. I hadn’t one fucking clue what happened to Betsy. I still don’t. I still don’t have one iota of an idea what happened to her that day, or what has happened to her any day since. But I know she’s alive. I know deep down in my gut she’s out there somewhere. If only the cops had acted sooner, instead of wasting time questioning me, I’m pretty certain they could’ve found her. But now – just over seventeen years later – there’s probably no chance whatsoever that I’ll ever see her pretty little face again. I can’t give up though. I’ve told anyone who’s ever listened to me over those years that I will fight until my dying day to find Betsy. Well, today may well be my dying day, and I ain’t stopping. I guess I just have to put all of my hope in little Lenny Moon. Not that I’ve given him much to go on; same old leads I’ve looked into hundreds of times – all of them producing sweet fuck all over the years. But fair play to him, he got into Barry’s house within an hour or so of starting his investigation. That’s some going. It took me four years to get inside that gaff.
‘That time again, Gordon,’ Elaine says, opening up the door to my ward. I twist my head on the pillow, crease my mouth into a slight smile.
‘You look more relaxed anyway,’ she says.
I just maintain the smile, pull my T-shirt over my head again and wait for her to attach the blue tabs to my chest.
‘The theatre will definitely be ready for three p.m., Gordon. Everything’s running on time. Dr Johnson and Mr Broadstein are due to land at one p.m. and should arrive here at the hospital around two-ish. The surgery that’s going on in the theatre right now is expected to be finished in a couple more hours. Half an hour clean up and prep after that, then we’ll get you down there.’
I’m listening to what Elaine is saying, but I don’t react, except for nodding my head out of politeness.
‘Okay… heart rate is still high,’ she says,’ but it’s come down a good bit. Keep that head back on your pillow and just relax, Gordon. It’s your best chance of beating this.’
I just nod again.
‘You okay… You’ve gone very quiet on me?’
I look up at her, meeting her eyes for the first time since she re-entered the ward.
‘Just letting it all sink in,’ I say. ‘Y’know what’s upsetting me the most?’
She doesn’t finish wrapping the rubber tube around her hand, instead she puts it aside, squints at me, then perches on the bed.
‘Ever hear of Betsy Blake?’ I ask her.
She squints again. The name didn’t immediately register with her.
‘Girl that went missing seventeen years ago, was taken outside her home?’
‘Oh yeah,’ Elaine says. ‘South Circular Road. I was too young to remember at the time, but I’ve heard about it since.’
‘My daughter,’ I say. Her mouth opens a little, then she places her hand on top of mine again.
‘Oh I’m so sorry, Gordon.’
‘It’s okay, Elaine… you didn’t take her.’ I sit more upright in the bed again. ‘It’s just, the thought of dying without ever finding out what happened to her is… It’s…’ I pinch my thumb and forefinger into the corner of my eye sockets.
‘Gordon… we’ll get you through this,’ Elaine says, rubbing her fingers across the top of my hand. ‘I thought… I thought…’ she hesitates. ‘I thought they concluded Betsy’s investigation… wasn’t she supposed to have been found to have been knocked down… they found a car or something with her DNA in?’
‘That was all baloney,’ I say, removing my fingers from my eyes. ‘That was the cops trying to close off a case many years later because it was costing them too much money, costing them too much time. They’ve always been embarrassed by the fact they never found out who took Betsy… So they made that shit up.’
Elaine’s brow creases.
‘Are you serious?’ she asks.
‘Dead serious.’ Then I breathe out a long, drawn out sigh. I haven’t opened up about Betsy in years.
‘I had no idea,’ Elaine says, still rubbing at my hand. ‘Listen. I have to go downstairs to Mr Douglas’ office for a consultation about your surgeries. I’ll be half-an-hour, forty minutes at most. When I’m back, I’ll pop in to you. You can tell me what you want… we can keep quiet… we can watch more TV; whatever it is you would like to do.’
She’s so lovely. Very genuine. Very natural. I wonder if Betsy would have grown up to be just as impressive.
‘She’d be only five years younger than you are now, y’know?’
‘Really?’ Elaine says as she scribbles a note on the clipboard. ‘I’m so sorry for your loss, Gordon. I don’t know what to say. Y’know I thought about you and your whole family a number of times over the years… I guess most people have. Everybody’s hearts went out to you.’
I smile my eyes at her and then wave my hand.
‘Go on, go to your meeting and… yes please, drop in when you’re done. I’d love the company.’
She takes a step towards me, rubs at my hand again, and then pinches each of the tabs off my chest.
‘You just relax for the next half-an-hour, Gordon. Put the back of your head on that pillow and close those eyes.’
As soon as the door’s closed, I do exactly as Elaine suggested. Closing my eyes relieves some of the throbbing in my temples. I breathe in and out really slowly, allow the whole mess my life has turned into to float away from my mind. Rather than thinking about my surgeries and rather than thinking about Betsy, I reminisce… I go back over my life. I remember when I was the age Betsy was when she went missing; my first day at school was fun, adventurous. I remember the holidays my mam and dad used to take me on to Blackpool; the donkey rides on the beach, the rollercoasters on Pleasure Beach, the pinging sounds of the arcades. I remember my first girlfriend; Linda Tillesly – she was so pretty. I was thirteen when we shared our first kiss; round the back of Goldenbridge School. Neither me nor Linda had a clue what we were doing, we both just went with it until it felt right. I allow myself my first genuine heartfelt smile of the day; then the ward door opens, taking me out of my daydream.
‘Jaysus, Gordy; ye certainly look as if yer dyin’ anyway.’
I open my eyes, notice the waistband of his trousers pulled up over his belly button and then mouth the word ‘bollocks’ to myself.