Gareth takes one look at Georgia’s tear-stained face and his heart leaps.
‘Kath!’ He shouts. ‘Kath! Kath, she’s here.’
For several seconds no one says a word, not him, not Georgia curled up on the floor and not Alice standing beside him with dresses hooked over her arm. Then Kath arrives, wide-eyed and breathless and starts shouting at her daughter.
‘Stop!’ Gareth yells through the crying, berating, apologising and confusion. ‘Everyone please just stop.’
There’s a lull in the noise, then Kath says, ‘What the hell do you think you’re playing at, Georgia? You scared me half to death,’ and it all starts up again.
‘Kath, please.’ Gareth puts a hand on her shoulder. ‘Please, this is important. Please just let her explain.’
He crouches down and looks at Georgia, still gripping her knees. ‘You’re not in trouble, but I need your help. We need to find Joan, my mum, and I think you know where she is.’
Georgia lets out a loud sob and buries her face in her arms.
‘We know why you’re here …’ he glances up at Kath, who’s got her hands pressed to her cheeks. ‘Amy told us, your friend. She said some girls from school have been bullying you and they told you that if you stole stuff for them it would stop.’
Georgia shakes her head.
‘You didn’t want to,’ Gareth says softly. ‘Did you?’
Georgia doesn’t move.
‘You should have told me,’ Kath says and her daughter lets out a loud sob. ‘Why didn’t you tell me about it, love?’
There’s a soft murmuring from between Georgia’s arms.
‘What’s that?’ Kath crouches down beside Gareth. ‘What’s that, love?’
‘You were always busy.’ Georgia lifts her chin but keeps her eyes covered. ‘You told me off if I wanted to talk and you had a client in.’
‘That’s not—’ Kath starts, but Gareth silences her with a finger to his lips.
‘Did you come round to ours instead?’ he asks.
Georgia doesn’t reply.
‘Did Joan wave at you from the window, maybe? When you got home from school? Or talk to you in the back garden? Did she invite you in for a cup of tea and you climbed over the fence?’
Another loud sob escapes the young girl’s folded arms.
‘Did she show you her memory box? Did you see the postcards from my dad?’
There’s a further sob, then an anguished cry that sounds like, ‘I was only trying to help.’
Gareth doesn’t speak. He continues to crouch, his thigh muscles burning as he waits for her to say more. If he pushes her too hard she’ll clam up. If he gives her space she might talk. She’s the missing piece in the puzzle of his mum’s disappearance. He can’t believe it took him so long to figure it out.
‘She was so kind to me.’ Georgia’s voice is a whisper; any louder and it would break. ‘I wanted to do something nice.’
‘You sent her a postcard. You copied my dad’s handwriting.’
‘She missed him. I thought it would make her happy.’
‘And you talked about going on holiday?’
‘She wanted to go to the seaside. I knew she couldn’t, not in real life, and she’d forget all about it the next time I saw her, but she was so excited. She called me Ruth and I didn’t know who that was. I thought … I thought … it was just make-believe.’
‘It’s okay, Georgia,’ Kath says softly. ‘It’s all right, love.’
‘Do you know where she’s gone?’ Gareth asks.
The question hangs in the air. He’s holding himself so still he can’t breathe.
The silence is punctuated by a sob, then seven words that make his heart sink: ‘I wish I did but I don’t.’