Missing Me (4 page)

I was so caught up with all these thoughts that I didn’t notice the security guards at the gate until I was just a few metres away. They were really dressed up – in uniforms with . .
. jeez, were they
guns
?

I stopped in my tracks.

Why hadn’t I thought that it might be tricky just to walk inside a drinks reception? Especially one in a high security area like Parliament. As I watched, two women approached the gate.
They showed the guards pieces of card. Invitations.

What was I going to do now? Even if it had occurred to me earlier that I might need a formal invite, I’d have had no idea how to fake one. The two women laughed at something the guards
said, then went inside. I backed away, looking around for an alternative entry point. There was nothing obvious. I could see a few ground-floor windows, but they were all closed – and all
within the guards’ sightlines. There were no other doors.

I sauntered away, trying to look like I was casually strolling about. I rounded the corner. Now the guards could no longer see me. I spotted a fire door and rushed over. I pushed at it, hoping
against hope that it wouldn’t be locked, but it was.

Of course it was, this was the Houses of Parliament for goodness’ sake. Feeling defeated, I turned away.
Was this it?
I felt suddenly swamped with desolation. I’d been so
close to Allan Faraday and now I was as far away from meeting him as ever. I knew I could hang around outside, waiting for him to arrive, but it was nearly twenty to eight now. He was probably
already at the drinks reception. And I had no idea how long that was likely to last.

Jeez, I was so useless. When Lauren had gone looking for her birth family, she’d faced far harder obstacles than I was up against, including crossing the Atlantic, boarding a flight to a
place she’d never been and breaking into a building in the middle of the night.

Lauren had faced down every single challenge, while I couldn’t even get into a simple drinks reception in my adopted hometown. So much for wanting to be a journalist. I wandered back
towards the guards. What was I going to do? I could try talking my way in, but I really didn’t feel confident enough for that.

And then I spotted another door, on the other side of the guards. It was some way beyond them, though still clearly visible from where they were standing. A man – young, maybe early
twenties – was standing outside, smoking a cigarette. From his stained apron and white cap – plus the steam issuing from the door behind him – I was guessing he had just stepped
out from inside a kitchen.

I took a circuitous route that led me towards him without walking directly past the guards. As I approached, he looked up and smiled.

‘Hey, beautiful,’ he said, his eyes twinkling. His accent was heavily eastern European. ‘You want cigarette?’

I shook my head, tongue-tied. I was useless at talking to strangers, especially male ones. Boys quite often tried to chat me up but usually gave up in the face of my shyness. It didn’t
much matter whether I liked someone or not, I could just never think of anything to say. ‘I . . . I don’t smoke,’ I stammered. What on earth was I doing? This guy wasn’t
going to let me in anymore than the guards were. Unless . . . ‘I’m looking for a job,’ I said.

The young man raised his eyebrows. ‘You don’t want work here,’ he said in a loud whisper. ‘Pay is terrible and boss is worse.’

‘Just a bit of part-time work?’ I glanced along the building. A large group was approaching the two guards. Neither of them were looking in my direction. I forced a smile onto my
face. ‘Please?’

The young man stubbed out his cigarette. He winked at me. ‘You know with all security screenings is more trouble than worth for part-time work, but I will ask the boss if he hiring,’
he said. ‘You wait here, beautiful. I come back.’

‘Sure.’

The young man disappeared inside. He let the door shut behind him, but I caught it before it closed completely and peered inside. The young man was whistling to himself as he strolled towards a
set of swing doors. Steam swelled up above the doors and I could hear the sounds of pans clanking and people shouting.

I looked in the other direction. The corridor disappeared round a bend. Surely that had to lead to the rooms where the reception was being held? Either way, it was my best chance to get inside.
As soon as the young man vanished behind the swing doors, I darted inside and tiptoed along the corridor. Round the bend, I reached a short flight of concrete stairs. Up these and through a door to
another corridor – this one oak-panelled and lushly carpeted. As I crept along, voices drifted towards me from the doors on either side – a series of low, male mumbles. Where on earth
was I? And how was I going to find the drinks reception and Allan Faraday?

I headed for the door at the end of this corridor. Hopefully this would lead me back down to the rooms where the reception was being held. I wiped my palms on my skirt as I sped along. Behind me
a door smashed open against a wall.

‘Hey! Stop!’

I spun round.
No.
One of the guards from outside was just a few metres away, running towards me.

‘Stop!’ he yelled again.

Panic rising, I turned and fled for the door ahead. I reached it in a few steps. Yanked at the handle.

It was locked. The guard behind me pounded up. His hand slammed against the door by my head. I turned to face him. He was panting and puce in the face. His hand slid down to his gun. I stared at
it in horror.

‘What the hell do you think you’re doing?’ he demanded.

My mouth opened and shut silently. I gulped. What could I say? I was sure that, if she were in my place, Lauren would have come up with some ultra-convincing reason for being
there. But all I could think to say was the truth.

‘I was looking for my father,’ I stammered. ‘Allan Faraday. He’s at the Brisbane Media drinks reception.’

The guard took a step back and looked me up and down. Faces were peering out from the rooms on either side of the corridor. I kept my gaze on the guard. His expression was softening, as if he
were registering how young I was – and how frightened. He took his hand away from his gun and reached inside his jacket pocket.

‘The reception is next door,’ he said, taking out a walkie-talkie radio.

‘I know but . . .’ Again I searched for a good reason for entering the building. Nothing came. ‘. . . But I didn’t have an invite so I didn’t think you’d let
me in.’

‘What’s your name?’

I told him.

‘Any ID?’

I took out my student card. The guard studied it for a moment, then tilted his head to one side and gazed at me thoughtfully.

‘You don’t have the same surname as your dad,’ he said.

‘I know.’ I could feel my face burning.

‘So why is it so urgent you want to get hold of him?’ he said. ‘Couldn’t you just ring him?’

‘I . . . I don’t have his number . . . I just know that he’s here for one night in London and . . . and I wanted to see him . . .’ The words came out in a big, blubbery
sob. Tears pricked at my eyes. I sounded ridiculous and I
hated
that I’d just given away so much personal, private information.

The guard sighed. ‘Look, love, you can’t go crashing about like this. There are national security implications for a start. What did you say your dad’s name was?’

‘Allan Faraday, but . . .’ I stopped, unwilling to explain that Faraday would have absolutely no idea who I was.

Ignoring my hesitation, the guard spoke into his radio.

‘Bob?’ he said into the mouthpiece. ‘I found the girl who snuck in. She says she’s a Madison Purditt and she’s looking for her father. Can you check him on the
guest list . . . it’s an Allan Faraday.’

The radio crackled, then a voice on the other end spoke.

‘Yup, he’s here, Jerry.’

‘Right.’ Jerry looked at me thoughtfully. ‘Would you ask him to step outside, please?’

No.
My mouth dropped open in horror. Apart from the fact that Allan Faraday was hardly likely to come outside to meet a daughter he didn’t even know existed, this was so
not
the way I’d imagined introducing myself to him. I’d planned to find him and study him for a minute or two first. Then, when I was ready, I would move over gracefully and ask for a quiet
word. I didn’t know what I was going to say after that, but I’d imagined I’d be able to introduce myself gently and carefully.

Not like this.

‘Come outside.’ Jerry led me back along the corridor and down the steps.

Outside the air seemed colder than it had before. My heart was totally in my mouth. I tried to move away, but Jerry gripped my arm.

‘Don’t think about running, love,’ he said. ‘That would be really stupid.’

I gulped. Suppose Allan Faraday wouldn’t come outside? I’d probably be arrested. Annie would go into total hysterics.

Jerry led me along to the entrance to the drinks reception. I kept my head bowed. The light was fading now, casting shadows across our path.

We reached the entrance and stopped. The other guard was checking someone’s invite and didn’t look round.

‘Wait here with me,’ Jerry said. Now he’d stopped running his face had returned to normal colour and I could see that he was probably about thirty, with soft creases around his
eyes.

The seconds ticked by. I kept my gaze on the grey pavement at my feet. And then a man appeared in the doorway. I noticed his shoes first – shiny and pointy and black. Very smart. I looked
up a little, taking in the sharp creases of his designer suit.

‘What’s this about?’ the man said. He had a strange accent – somewhere between English and American. ‘They said someone wanted me.’

Oh my goodness. It was
him.
I still couldn’t look up, properly, into his face.

‘Are you Allan Faraday, sir?’ Jerry asked.

‘Yes.’ The man sounded suspicious. ‘Why? Who’s asking?’

Jerry cleared his throat. ‘I’ve got this girl here – Madison Purditt. She was caught trying to get into the reception. Says she’s your daughter?’

The question hung in the air. I wanted to evaporate where I stood. This was totally humiliating.

‘My
daughter
?’ Allan Faraday sounded as shocked as I’d have expected him to. ‘I don’t have a daughter.’

‘Ah.’ Jerry’s voice was a mix of embarrassment, confusion and anger. I could tell he was looking at me, though my eyes were still fixed on Allan Faraday’s shoes.
‘Sorry to have disturbed you, sir.’

Say something, Madison.

Allan Faraday’s shoes took a step back. He was going back into the drinks reception and I was going to be arrested and I hadn’t even looked at his face.

Allan Faraday took another step away from me.

I forced myself to look up, into his eyes.

He was tall with high cheekbones. Much better looking than in his Bizznet photo, with dark hair slicked back off his face and a look of Lauren about his mouth. He stared back at me, his forehead
creased with a frown.

‘Why are you saying I’m your father?’ he said. ‘I’ve never seen you before.’

My mouth was dry and my legs were trembling and my heart was hammering against my ribs. My whole focus was on Allan Faraday. I stared at him, forgetting Jerry and the other guard standing beside
us. The distant traffic noises and the cool night air faded to nothing. This was my one chance.

I had to get it right.

‘Mr Faraday, you . . . you . . .’ I lowered my voice; this was
beyond
embarrassing, ‘. . . you donated sperm that was used by a clinic in Evanport, Connecticut. It was
my mother who used it and . . . and . . .
that’s
how you are my father.’

Faraday’s mouth gaped and his eyes widened as he took in what I’d said. I was aware of Jerry, the guard, hovering nearby, watching us intently. I couldn’t
believe I’d just blurted out the facts like that. And what if I’d got something so personal all wrong? What if this wasn’t the same Allan Faraday? What if he denied ever donating
sperm? Except . . . I looked at his mouth again. His lips definitely curved in the same ‘bow’ shape as Lauren’s.

Faraday stared at me. ‘Sperm donation is anonymous,’ he said slowly. ‘At least it was back then, when I did it.’

My heart leaped. That meant he was admitting being involved, didn’t it?

‘How old are you, Madison?’ he went on. ‘Where are you from?’

‘I’m fifteen,’ I said. ‘My family was originally from Evanport in, er, in the States, but we live here now. That is, me and my mum live here – we moved here after
my . . . my dad – the man who brought me up – after he died.’

I glanced at Jerry, the guard, wishing he wasn’t watching me. Faraday followed my gaze. He cleared his throat, then leaned over and whispered something in Jerry’s ear.

‘All right, then, Miss Purditt,’ Jerry said. ‘You can go. But next time be more careful.’

Faraday indicated the path leading back to the street. ‘Come on, then,’ he said. ‘Let’s get to the bottom of this.’

My chest tightened as he led me towards the pavement. Had he believed me? What was he thinking? What was he going to say? He strode on, away from the building. I had to walk fast to keep up with
him. As we reached the main road, he glanced down at me and stopped.

‘So,’ he said. ‘You’re looking for your birth father?’

I nodded.

‘Well, you’ve successfully got me out of what was admittedly a rather boring drinks reception, so go on, tell me why you think it’s me,’ Faraday said. There was a hint of
impatience in his voice, but his eyes were warm, almost twinkling, as if he were more amused by the situation than anything.

I took the sperm donor report Annie had given me out of my pocket.

‘Here,’ I said. ‘This is you, isn’t it?’

Faraday stared at the report. He let out a low whistle, then looked up at me. His expression was guarded. I got the distinct impression he was weighing up the situation, trying to decide if he
was being conned . . . if I was about to make demands on him . . .