17. Vinho Verde
A young wine and missing some body.

“Who is it? Who’s doing this?” Sarah appeared to be trying to pulverise the answer-phone as Gaynor walked into Greens.

“Not another one!” Gaynor dumped her handbag on the bar. “Play it to me!”

“I can’t even understand it.” Sarah hit the Play button. “Just the usual stuff – you bitch, etc.”

They both listened. It was more indistinct than the others. “You’re a fucking what?” Gaynor asked.

Sarah shook her head. “Dunno. Lezzo?”

Gaynor listened again. “Oh, could be. Well, it wouldn’t be the first time someone had assumed that, now, would it? I still want to know which one of us is with who. I think I fancy you more than Claire.” She grinned. “Or are we supposed to be a ménage à trois? I tell you, it’s some pervert who wants to watch…”

Sarah glared. “It’s not funny.”

“What happened to the police?”

Sarah grimaced. “They’re looking into it. Which they were doing three weeks ago. I phoned BT again. They say all they can do is give the police the number again. And they still won’t give it to me!”

She rummaged under the bar and extracted a packet of pain killers. “My head feels like it’s going to burst. I hate that kitchen – I fucking hate it. It’s all very well for Claire to have all these great ideas about lunchtime specials but who’s got to bloody cook them? It’s only omelettes and salads, she says. Omelettes are a pain in the arse when everyone wants them and Benjamin’s on salads and it takes him all bloody day.”

“They are lovely, though,” said Gaynor. “That woman and her daughter who were in here yesterday said they’d never seen such beautiful –”

“Yes,” Sarah interrupted, “but they were on holiday. Most of the people in here in the week have to go back to work in the afternoon. They can’t spend their entire lunch-hour waiting while Benjamin carves a water-lily from a radish!”

Gaynor giggled. “Bless him.”

“You wouldn’t say that if you were in the kitchen,” said Sarah darkly. “If you had twenty-seven meals to get out and his sole contribution was to colour-coordinate the veg.”

“Can’t we get another chef to help out so you can be up here more?”

“Claire says we can’t afford it yet,” said Sarah shortly. “Don’t think I haven’t tried.”

“Can’t she do more down there?”

Sarah shrugged. “She does what she can. She’s made all the desserts this week and she did all the finger food for that engagement party we had last Sunday. She can do the odd evening if I’ve prepared it all but I’m the one who’s supposed to be the trained chef.” She pulled a face. “I’d just forgotten how gruesome it can be!”

She looked at her watch. “Paul’s due to pick the kids up at eleven. I hope he’s not late again. Charlie’s been dressed since six.”

Sarah looked incredibly stressed out. Gaynor switched the coffee grinder on. She felt worried about her – the long hours she was working, her headaches, her worries about Paul letting the children down.

“I’m sure he’ll be here and we’ll be able to get someone else to do the cooking soon, she said. “We must be doing OK – we’re pretty full every night, aren’t we?”

“Yeah, I suppose. I really must pay more attention to the figures. I’ve just had so many other things to think about, I’ve left it all to Claire. I mean she’s so good at it.” Sarah ran a hand through her shock of hair. “I used to be a capable person,” she suddenly burst out. “I ran restaurants four times the size of this before I had the kids!”

“I know.” Gaynor put down the coffee cups and gave her a hug. Sarah felt tense. “You are still capable. You’re the most capable person I know – you’ve just got a hell of a lot on.”

Sarah sighed. “Yeah. Bit tired.”

In a gesture of support, Gaynor peeled potatoes, while Sarah made up lasagnes and Benjamin fashioned carrot twirls. “Just fluted edges is fine,” Sarah said, “it’s much quicker.”

“Presentation,” said Benjamin. “At college,” he told Gaynor, “I got full marks for my scalloped celeriac.”

“Put them in a real kitchen,” growled Sarah, when he’d disappeared upstairs to oversee the flower arrangements, “and they wouldn’t last five minutes.”

“Shall I go and open up?” Gaynor put the last of the vegetables in water and looked at the clock. “Where’s Claire, anyway?”

“Not coming in till later. Got to take one of the dogs to the vet. Let’s just hope we’re not too busy.”

Gaynor picked up a bunch of keys and headed for the stairs. Overhead a pair of feet ran across the floorboards. Moments later, Bel appeared in the doorway holding her doll Rosie by the hair. Sarah looked up from her chopping.

“What’s the matter, darling?”

Bel adopted a long-suffering expression. “Scarface has been sick on my bed,” she announced importantly. “Daddy’s not coming and Charlie has run away.”

“Where’s he gone?” Sarah switched off the TV and pulled the headphones from Luke who was sprawled on the sofa with his CD walkman and the remote control.

Luke shrugged. “I don’t know.”

“Couldn’t you have stopped him?”

Luke sat up, sighing. “I didn’t know he was going, did I? I was talking to Dad and when I put the phone down, Bel said Charlie had gone. It’s not my fault,” he said belligerently. “How come you always blame me?”

Sarah looked in their bedroom. Somebody could have died in there and you wouldn’t know. It was impossible, from the widespread chaos and week-old washing strewn on every available inch of floor space, to have any idea if Charlie had taken anything with him.

“Why didn’t your father come, anyway?” she asked sharply.

Luke lounged in the doorway. “He said he had to work.”

Yeah, right, thought Sarah, as she dialled her mother’s number. Bloody Paul. Bel was young and accepting, Luke in teenage-slouch mode didn’t care much about anything, but Charlie… Charlie was the one who’d taken all this hard and he didn’t deserve it. Paul had lost sight of everything but his next high at the bookies. No wonder he’d called Luke’s mobile rather than her.

She waited impatiently for her mother to answer the phone, steeling herself for the inevitable diatribe on Paul’s shortcomings. She hadn’t really expected Charlie to be there but anything was possible. She explained as briefly as she could, shaking her head at Gaynor as she listened to her mother’s response. “No? OK. No please, stay there. Just in case he comes to you…”

“Where might he go?” Gaynor was putting her jacket on.

“I don’t know.” Sarah was white. “I just don’t know.”

Richard, who’d fortuitously wandered in, mid-crisis, was attempting to interrogate Luke. “How long ago did he leave?”

Luke shrugged.

“Think!” Sarah shrieked at him.

“Bel came down about twenty minutes ago,” said Gaynor. “He can’t have gone far.”

Richard picked up his keys. “I’ll go and get the car. Has he got any money with him?”

Sarah shook her head. “I shouldn’t think so,”

Gaynor squeezed her arm. “I’ll go and check the beach.”

“What shall I do?” Benjamin enquired.

“Hold the fort!” Gaynor called, as she headed for the door.

Poor, poor Sarah, she thought as she ran along the jetty. She’d looked as if she was going to be sick. Gaynor shaded her eyes and scanned the curve of Viking Bay, hoping to see Charlie kicking a rock somewhere. The tide was going out – ropes and chains stretched beneath the stranded fishing boats on the glistening sand. In the distance a couple poked about in the whelk-encrusted pools and someone wandered along with a dog by the pastel-coloured beach huts, all boarded up for winter beneath the cliffs, but the figures were all too tall to be Charlie. The wind whipped her hair about as she gazed at the white undercliff in the distance, curving round towards Ramsgate. Nobody there.

“It’s not that I think anything will happen to him wandering about Broadstairs,” Sarah had said, “but I worry about his state of mind. He’s been withdrawn lately – difficult, you know. He could do anything. Suppose,” she said, looking stricken, “he tries to find Paul. Suppose he tries to hitch a lift or something?”

“He’s not that silly.” Gaynor had tried to be reassuring. But really she didn’t know anything about ten-year-old boys. Or have a clue what he might do.

“He hasn’t caught a train,” said Richard, getting back into the car. The bloke thinks he’d have seen him and no kid on his own has bought a ticket in the last hour or so.”

Sarah blew her nose. “Oh God, where is he? You know, if it was Luke I’d know where to look – he’d be at Tyrone’s house or at the skateboarding place or skulking round the arcade. But Charlie…”

She shivered, pulling her coat around her, trying to block out the horrible visions that kept crowding into her mind.

Richard put a brief hand on her knee before he started the engine again. “We’ll find him.”

Gaynor got back to Greens to find a small riot in the bar and Benjamin flapping about in an apron.

“I’ve got rather a lot of lunches on the go,” he was saying apologetically to a group of impatient suits.

Gaynor cast off her jacket and slid behind the bar. “Can I help anybody?”

There was a clamour of voices. Benjamin beat a retreat to the kitchen. Gaynor switched on her hugest smile as she looked at the clutch of orders he’d stuffed into her hand.

She hoped Benjamin would be able to produce them without Sarah at his elbow.

She’d just about got all the drinks served when the buzzer sounded from the kitchen. Gaynor ran down the stairs.

“What is that?” she enquired, looking at a small, yellow rubbery circle richly garnished with frilly spring onion.

Benjamin looked downcast. “Sarah usually does the omelettes,” he explained.

“With more than one egg, I should think,” said Gaynor. “I don’t think I can serve this – can’t you make a bigger one? Three eggs and just flip it over while it’s still…. Look,” she said, seeing the expression of dumb panic that had crossed Benjamin’s face, “I’ll do it.”

She grabbed an apron and thrust her order pad at Benjamin. “You get up there and calm the masses. And take that up – who was it for?” She nodded at the tray he’d loaded with a panini and a salad nicoise.

Benjamin looked at her hopelessly. “I’m afraid I have no idea.”

“Goodness!” said Claire, arriving in the doorway half an hour later, to find Gaynor at the stove. “Never thought I’d see the day…”

“You nearly didn’t. We almost set the kitchen alight with that chip fryer. Can you help? I haven’t got a clue what to do with scallops and Benjamin’s just taken an order for three of them.”

Claire shook her head. “They’re not even on the lunchtime menu.” Gaynor handed her the spatula she’d been prodding omelettes with. “I’ll go and sort it.”

She gathered up the Avocado and Mozzarella Surprise that Benjamin had created in frantic trips to the kitchen and threw her apron into a corner. She carried the salad plate and a bowl of soup upstairs to where an academic type with a silly goatee beard was sitting with his bored wife.

“Sorry for the delay!” She smiled brightly from one to the other. Goatee was not pacified.

“This is ridiculous!” he fumed. “We’ve been waiting for over half an hour.” He glowered at Gaynor. “We’ve got a train to catch.”

Hot, sweaty and frazzled from the rigours of the last hour, she put his plate down a little too hard. “And my business partner’s little boy’s gone missing.”

“Arsehole,” she said, as she carried empty dishes through the swing door into the kitchen. Claire had confiscated Benjamin’s vegetable knife and put him on washing-up. He looked round from the sink resignedly as Gaynor heaped more plates on the already-tottering pile. “I wonder if Sarah’s called the police,” Gaynor added.

“Perhaps she’s found him by now,” said Claire, deftly sliding apple pie into dishes.

Benjamin raised his pink rubber-gloved hands from the suds. Gravely, he said, “In my experience, they won’t do much until he’s been missing for several hours. And all avenues have been exhausted. They know that most children reported missing turn up perfectly safe and sound at a friend’s or relative’s within…”

“In your experience?” queried Gaynor, surprised

“It was on Morse last week,” said Benjamin. “There was a case where a twelve-year old girl went missing. Now in fact she’d been murdered but first of all…”

Footsteps were coming down the stairs.

“Dishwasher’s stopped!” Claire interrupted sharply. “Leave that stuff to soak and empty it, will you?”

Sarah appeared in the doorway and shook her head. She looked dreadful.

“We went to the police station,” she said. “They were really kind. They’re circulating his description and they said try not to worry, most children turn up on their own.”

Gaynor glanced at Benjamin. She saw Claire do the same. His mouth opened and closed again.

“Sit down,” said Claire. “We’ll make you a coffee. Would you like a brandy in it? Benjamin, you pop upstairs and …”

“No, thank you. I’m going upstairs to see Luke.” Sarah pulled her coat more tightly around her, shuddering. “We’ve left Bel at my mother’s. Charlie could go straight up to the flat through the side entrance. I’d better go and wait.”

“Is there anything we can do?” asked Gaynor, feeling helpless.

Sarah shook her head. “Oh,” she turned to Claire, suddenly remembering. “The fish pies. I’ve done the base – it’s in the fridge. But the potato…”

“Don’t worry.” Claire was already pulling the earthenware dishes from the cupboard. “I’ll do it.”

Sarah nodded, white and exhausted. “Thank you. Was your dog OK?”

“Yeah, Henry’s fine. He’s been a bit off colour and I was worried he was ill but the vet said –” Claire stopped abruptly. “Sorry, you don’t want to hear all that.”

Gaynor gave Sarah a little push. “Go on, you go upstairs. We’ll be here. Charlie will be back soon and we’ll see him, whichever door he comes in…”

When Sarah had gone, she said, “Oh God, I simply cannot imagine how she’s feeling.”

Claire tipped potatoes into the sink. “Poor Sarah. I’ve got no idea about the whole children thing but I know how bad I feel if anything happens to one of the dogs. Charlie will come back, though.” She looked at Gaynor. “Won’t he?”

“He’d better.” Gaynor picked up a potato peeler. “Shall we take these upstairs in case he comes to the front door?”

They sat at the back of the bar, a pile of spuds between them. “It’s really not fair of Paul,” said Gaynor, dropping a skinned potato into the large pot of water. “He means the world to Charlie. He should be more reliable. He’s his father. If he says he’s coming, then he should damn well make sure he gets here.”

Claire was silent. Her long dark hair fell over her face as she carried on intently peeling. Something about the way she kept her head down made Gaynor feel awkward. “Don’t you think?” she added.

Claire tossed the vegetable away from her into the saucepan and picked up another. “Yes I do think,” she said, tightly. “I’m a hell of a lot older than Charlie and it still hurts me when my parents can’t be bothered.”

Gaynor gathered up a damp handful of peel and put it in the carrier bag beside her. “Did your dad not come the other day?” she asked carefully.

Claire gave a contemptuous laugh. “No, he didn’t. And more fool me for thinking he might! He’s always much too busy to leave his own life to ever come and visit a bit of mine.” She stabbed the peeler through the middle of the vegetable in her hand. “ But, you know, I always believe him when he says he will. I run around and get everything ready – wanting him to be impressed – and then of course, the phone call comes. Always from my mother,” she added bitterly. “Never from him. Saying they just can’t manage it after all…”

She looked at Gaynor, rolling her eyes at herself. “Stupid isn’t it?”

“No, it’s not.” Gaynor got up and went behind the bar to the coffee machine. “My father’s completely crap but it never quite stops one hoping that he might suddenly be different next time. You want one of these?” She held up a coffee cup.

Claire nodded. “When do you stop caring? I wonder.”

Gaynor thought of Sam. “I don’t know if you ever do.” She put an espresso down in front of Claire. “And Charlie’s only ten,” she said.

“Yes.” Claire looked troubled. “Poor Charlie.”

Upstairs in the flat, Richard put the kettle on. “I’ll go back out again in a minute,” he said. “ I’ll go up and down the High Street in case he’s walking home.”

“Where from?” cried Sarah, white-faced. “Where can he have been? Oh Richard, where is he?”

She sat down at the table and put her head in her hands, her fingers pressing against her tear-filled eyes. Richard went and stood next to her, patting awkwardly at her shoulder. “He’ll turn up,” he said uncertainly.

“All those questions,” Sarah said bleakly. “Like it was really serious. Like they thought something terrible might have happened.”

“No,” said Richard, still patting her. “Just standard, just doing their job.”

“Did you see?” Sarah looked up at him, anguished. “Did you see the bit of the form where they had to tick vulnerable or non-vulnerable?”

Richard shook his head.

Sarah began to cry. “Vulnerable, they said he was vulnerable.”

Richard sat down beside her. “It’s because he’s a child,” he said, trying not to look worried. “But he’ll be home soon.”

He made her a coffee and put his coat back on. “I’ll keep looking,” he said. Sarah nodded silently. She felt sick and cold. It was getting dark outside. She had a vision of Charlie sat on a doorstep, shivering and crying, not knowing how to get home. She closed her eyes as if to block it out but opened them again as she heard Richard say, “Oh!”

He had opened the outside door that led to the steps down to the street. Sarah sprang up from her chair and saw a tall figure coming towards her. She took one look at the uniform and felt her legs buckle.

“I wasn’t going to steal it,” said Charlie vehemently. “I was just seeing what it would feel like in my pocket.”

“He’d been in the shop for sometime,” said the PC who had accepted a cup of tea and made himself comfortable at the kitchen table. “They let him be for a while but then the manager saw him take one of the phones and called us.”

“I didn’t…” Charlie shouted.

“Shhh,” Sarah said vaguely, so weak with relief she could barely follow what was being said.

“All right, son, we’ll leave it now.” The PC looked at Charlie and then turned to Sarah “I’ve got kids myself,” he said. Charlie glowered.

“Dad said we were going to go there,” he told Sarah when the policeman had left and Richard had tactfully disappeared. “He said we’d go to Phone World and get one today. He said.” He looked up at Sarah, anguished.

She pulled him towards her, torn between wanting to rail at him for how badly he’d frightened her and still so grateful to see him that she wanted nothing but to cuddle him. “I know, darling. I’m sorry.”

“I don’t suppose I’ll ever get one now,” he said.

“Just buy him one, Mum,” Luke had said wearily earlier. “I don’t care if he gets one before I did. At least it will stop him going on.”

“But I do,” she’d said. “I care. I care about the principle and I have to particularly care about the money.”

“Maybe Christmas,” she said now. “I’ll speak to Dad. But you really mustn’t…”

“I was just looking,” Charlie said doggedly. “I told the man in the shop. I was just holding it. He wouldn’t believe me.”

“I believe you,” said Sarah.

“It was a 66X500,” Charlie said, “with a camera. And Dad said…”

Bloody Paul! Sarah looked at her poor, bewildered middle child, and wondered how much to say. Much as she could cheerfully have taken a blunt instrument to her ex-husband right now, she still felt a perverse loyalty to him. But she could no longer bear Charlie’s endless disappointment. “Dad’s got some problems at the moment,” she said carefully. “He’s not very well, really.”

Charlie looked at her. “Is he going to die?”

“No, no he’s not going to die but he’s finding things a bit difficult and that’s why sometimes he can’t come when he says he will and he can’t always buy you the things he’d planned to.”

Charlie continued to gaze at her. She could see the struggle playing out on his face. He shrugged as though he didn’t care but the hurt and confusion was clear in his eyes.

“He loves you very much,” she said, “but he’s having some work problems.” Charlie needed to be prepared for Paul to let him down, but looking at the little boy’s expression she knew she must also do all she could to save Paul’s image in his son’s eyes.

Charlie frowned. “What did you mean he’s not well?”

She wished she hadn’t mentioned it now. “He’s a bit stressed,” Sarah said lamely.

But this seemed to satisfy Charlie. He nodded sagely. “Like you get,” he said.

“I suddenly remembered I had this.” Richard was casual. “They sent me a new one.” He held a box out to Charlie.

“An upgrade, they told me. But I don’t like it much. It’s got a camera and a radio.” Richard shook his head as if this were a very sorry state of affairs. “And I don’t know how to figure out things like that. I’m a boring old fart,” he added, as Charlie’s eyes widened. “Much prefer my old one. So suppose you use this new one for now?” He glanced at Sarah. “You know, just till your dad gets you a better one?”

Charlie stood quite still, staring and then his face split into a huge, disbelieving grin. Sarah’s eyes filled with tears.

“We’re going to have to have a budget,” she said briskly, fishing in her pocket for a tissue and blowing her nose. “You can’t use it all day long.”

Charlie shook his head, eyes shining. “I won’t, Mum. I just want to have one.” He looked up at her joyfully. “And then if I ever run away again you can text me and I’ll tell you where I am.”

“You’ll never do it again,” she said sternly. “I was very, very worried.”

“Don’t worry about the money,” Richard said to Sarah later as she poured him a drink in the kitchen. “It’s pay-as-you-go and Charlie can clean my car if he wants. Earn his top-ups.”

Sarah put the tonic bottle down. “Richard, you do not have to go to those lengths. Giving Charlie a phone is the most lovely and generous thing. Please do not put your car at risk, too. Frankly, I wouldn’t let him loose on the litter tray.”

Richard laughed, suddenly looking bright and playful. Younger. Sexier. Her stomach gave a little flip. “He’s OK,” Richard said.

Sarah leant forward and kissed his cheek. “You’ve been brilliant today,” she said. “You didn’t really have a spare phone, did you?”

He put an arm around her. “Got there just before they closed.” He swilled his glass about, chinking the ice-cubes together. “I know I’m a funny sod. I know I’m strange.” He suddenly looked embarrassed as he said gruffly, “But it’s not because I don’t care.”