‘You know her. She’s struggling at the moment. Susan copes by having time out. Do you really think we should call the police yet?’ Clare casually leaned against the wall.
‘That was a long time ago! I know Susan. Yes. I do think we should call the police. She would never leave Rory at nursery. I can’t believe I let you and Howard persuade me to wait this long.’ Mary looked sternly at her daughter. Even though the sisters had had their major differences, she thought that Clare would see how unusual this was and worry. ‘Can you keep the noise down while I phone them? Turn that flipping racket off before I lose it.’
Rory ran up to her and began to sob again. ‘Want. Mummy. Where Mummy?’
Mary held him close and stroked his hair. ‘Mummy loves you and she’ll be home soon. Nanny promises.’
Harrison burst through the door. ‘Mummy, look. I’m a car. Brum, brum.’
‘Harrison, get your pyjamas on. It’s bedtime,’ Mary snapped. Harrison needed discipline and her daughter wasn’t giving him any.
‘But I want ice cream, Nanny.’
Mary snatched the ice cream from Clare’s hand and thrust it at Howard’s chest. Her husband looked away, trying not to get in the middle of one of their arguments. He left them in the hallway, only popping back to pass his wife the phone. Harrison cried like it was the end of the world. ‘Now get him ready for bed, Clare. He’s two, for heaven’s sake.’ She knew full well that getting Harrison into bed would be near impossible but she needed to see that her daughter was making an effort.
Clare tutted and picked up her screaming son. The boy began to pound his half-clenched fists into her back as he resisted bedtime. ‘Ice cream, ice cream, ice cream…’
‘Here, can you take Rory? I’ll put him to bed after I call the police.’ Mary passed Rory to Howard. Rory was her little angel, always a delight to look after.
‘Come on, little man. Do you want to watch something on the TV?’ Rory snuggled into Howard’s chest as they went into the lounge.
Mary hurried to the kitchen, fingers hovering over the number pad on the phone. Just one more time. She had to try Susan again. As she went to call, her phone lit up. ‘Ryan? Is everything okay?’
‘Yes. I still have the girls. Can I speak to her? She isn’t answering her phone. Phoebe is getting tired and they both have school tomorrow. They want to go home.’
Mary’s heart skipped a beat as her soon-to-be ex-son-in-law awaited her reply. ‘Have you heard from her at all today?’
‘No. Like I told you last night. I heard from her yesterday when she said she had to visit a client in the afternoon and she asked me to pick the girls up from school and take them back to my place. I’ve heard nothing more. You mean she isn’t with you?’
Mary took a deep breath. She should’ve called Ryan to keep him updated but she didn’t want him to know that Susan had been struggling to cope, especially as things were getting nasty between Susan and Ryan after Susan told him she wanted a divorce. She didn’t need to give him any more ammunition and had hoped that this little incident would have blown over by today. ‘Ryan, Susan didn’t pick Rory up from nursery, you know that. I haven’t heard from her. I am calling the police.’
‘Dammit. What’s up with her? I could do without this. I suppose I best come and get Rory? It’s not fair on you and Howard.’
Mary listened at the lounge door and all had gone quiet. She hoped that Rory had settled so that she could pop him straight into the travel cot. ‘He’s more than welcome to stay. I think he’s asleep.’
‘Unlike the other?’ Ryan said as Harrison’s yells boomed through the building.
‘We’ll be fine. That’s unless you want to collect him. He’s more than welcome to stay though. I know you probably have work in the morning. You just concentrate on the girls and let me know if you hear anything from Susan. I’ll keep you updated.’
‘Thanks, Mary. Let me know if you hear anything. I’ll keep trying her too.’
As he ended the call she walked over to the sink and poured a glass of water. Since Susan’s split from Ryan, she had gone a little off the rails. She’d gone out drinking more, taken quite a few liberties when it came to babysitting and she had been a little late at times and not answered her phone. But she had never abandoned her children; she loved them more than anything. Mary pressed the buttons on the phone. If she didn’t call the police and something had happened, she’d never forgive herself. ‘Hello, I’d like to report a missing person.’
Three
Detective Inspector Gina Harte pulled up behind PC Kapoor’s squad car. As usual, she hadn’t planned to do much that evening. There was a pack of moulding bread and some old cheese spread with her name on it. Attending a call-out was a blessed release.
The petite officer was already at the front door, about to knock; her frame resembling that of a teenage girl.
The small semi-detached cottage was a part of older Cleevesford – lashings of village charm, cream painted exterior with sash windows. Built at the turn of the last century, Gina knew them to have originally been farmworker homes. At the end of the garden, the owner had carefully placed a little streetlamp in the ground that looked like an old-fashioned gas lamp. This nicely complemented the line of bare blossom trees that Gina knew would look beautiful come spring and summer when the flowering borders came to life. She shivered as she did up the top button of her overcoat.
As Gina stepped out, Kapoor gave her a little wave and knocked at the door. ‘Hiya, guv,’ she called out in thick, high-pitched, Brummie tones. The closer Gina got to the house, the more noise she could hear coming from within. A child’s shrieks boomed through the walls and the closed curtains fluttered up as a toddler weaved through them. A flustered woman who looked to be in her early sixties answered the door. Gina had to stop herself from staring. The resemblance was uncanny, taking Gina’s breath away.
Mary swiftly lifted her leg, blocking the lively toddler as he tried to run out in his dinosaur pyjamas. ‘Clare, get Harrison, will you.’
‘I want ice cream. I want ice cream,’ the child yelled as the woman lifted him up. With the struggling child now under her arms, she invited the police officer and detective into her house.
‘I’m Detective Inspector Harte, this is PC Kapoor.’
