eight

Nancy watched them through the front window, and felt a bubble of panic rise in her chest. She had hated them being here, the woman almost as much as the man, her sex meaningless in the question of strangers probing her life and her home, silent invaders asking questions that surely had nothing whatsoever to do with finding Beth. Box-ticking, that was all it had been; going through the motions like a real insurance company claim about a damaged car or a ruined carpet. No real emotion involved but a remoteness that was intended to get the job done, nothing more. She’d been glad to see them go.

But now they were leaving she wanted to rush outside and beg them to stay, to give the house a least some semblance of normality. Of warmth.

She felt sick at the realisation that they were the only human contacts she currently had. Not work, not the gym, not Beth’s pre-school. Not Tiggi.

What did that say about her life?

Her face was wet again. She brushed at her cheeks, feeling the sting of salt on her skin. Michael would be cross if he saw her now. He always talked about being strong, about not letting anything get to you, about relying on oneself and pushing away doubt. When she’d first thought about it, it had seemed such a strange thing for a charity worker to say, about never relying on others. But that was so much a part of who he was, who he had been ever since she’d first met him. And over time she had come to understand him and his philosophy, and it now didn’t seem odd.

She turned and walked through the house, trying to pick up a sense of him, a feeling that at least a part of him was here with her when she needed it. But all she got was Beth and Tiggi, the perfume of one and the child-smell of the other.

She sat on the double bed in her bedroom, then stood and went through to Beth’s room, anxious and agitated. Sight of the empty bed made her start crying again, and she finally gave in and allowed herself to erupt in sobs, throwing herself down on the duvet cover with a pink princess motif that was her daughter’s favourite; Beth didn’t even like it being taken away to wash, and would stand by the tumble dryer waiting for the cycle to end before snatching it out and rushing upstairs to place it back on her bed, beaming with pleasure as her world was put right again.

Nancy took a deep breath. Sat up and wiped her face. What if Beth came back right now? What if those two investigators appeared at the front door with her in tow? How would it look if Beth saw her own mother, red-faced and puffy-eyed, standing there?

She went through to the bathroom and splashed water on her eyes, patting away the droplets with a towel before forcing her breathing to settle. Control. She had to remain in control. Michael would expect nothing less of her.

Except that Michael wasn’t here, dealing with this problem. She was.

She caught sight of herself in the mirror. God, she looked like a disaster victim, her hair stringy and wild, her normally clear skin blotchy and red.

She got changed out of her gym clothes, dumping them in the wash basket even though they were clean. Washing them would take away the association she wanted to avoid: the gym and the note. She put on jeans and a jumper. Back to normal. At least, in part.

She walked back downstairs and stood in the kitchen, staring at the phone. Why didn’t Michael call? She was accustomed to his silences, to his long absences. It was something she had been forced to accept about him, the side of his life that put duty and others above himself and his family, that allowed him to deliberately distance himself. But right now, at this moment, she needed him to forget about duty and calling and be here for her and Beth—even if only at the end of a line.

Bloody duty. She suddenly hated the very notion, and felt not a trace of guilt.

She switched on the television in an effort to fill the living room with noise and colour, to push away the dread thoughts about where Beth might be; what she might be feeling; how she was being treated.

DO tell your husband. Beth’s life …

Unable to hold back, the tears began to flow.