Authors: Isabelle Grey
Once the young policeman, and then Sam, had left, Tessa had said she wanted to apologise to them both. The gist of it seemed to be that this man Roy Weaver was not who she’d hoped he’d be, that she’d allowed herself to be taken in by him, but that it was over now, and there’d be no further contact. If Pamela hadn’t known that Erin had had several talks with Tessa she might have pressed her for more details. But if Erin was fine, and Tessa wasn’t going to see this man again, then what did it matter? Best to leave the past alone now: it had done enough damage.
In any case, as the long evening wore on, all any of them could think about was Mitch. None of them really wanted to go to bed, but in the end Hugo had insisted. It was strange being back in her old home. She hadn’t spent a night here since the babysitting years had ended. She thought further back to when this room had been hers. Averil had not created the attic flat until the B&B began to be successful, by which time Pamela was already in her teens. But she had slept in this room the night before her wedding. Hugo always reminded her a little of her father, whom she had loved very much, and she had never regretted marrying him, had only ever regretted that she had failed to make him as happy as he deserved.
Suddenly the phone rang in the sitting room across the hall and Pamela sat up in bed, her heart pounding. Almost instantly she heard Tessa’s door open and it seemed only seconds later that she picked up and the ringing stopped. Was it Mitch, to say he was safe? Or was it the police, about to break some kind of dreadful news?
Pamela crept to open her bedroom door so that she could listen and be ready. ‘Where are you?’ she heard Tessa ask, and her heart leapt, though simultaneously she could tell from the tone of Tessa’s voice that she was not speaking to Mitch. ‘Don’t worry,’ she heard Tessa say next. ‘I’ll tell him as soon as I see him.’
At least it did not seem to be anything serious, though Pamela had no idea why anyone would ring so late. She waited for Tessa to come out of the living room. ‘Any news?’
Tessa shook her head. ‘It was his girlfriend, Tamsin Crawford, calling from America.’
‘Has she heard from Mitch?’
‘No. And I didn’t tell her anything was wrong. Not yet. But she says she can’t get hold of him either.’
Pamela didn’t like the sound of that; she knew that kids these days had to talk constantly to one another.
‘She wanted to leave her mother’s number in LA so he could call her.’ Tessa voice cracked and she began to cry. Pamela went to hold her tight.
‘Hush, my darling,’ she said. ‘Hush, Tessie. I’m here, I’ve got you.’ Tessa sobbed, and Pamela led her back into her bedroom, folded back the covers and seated her on the
bed, stroking her back just as she used to do when she was little.
‘I’m so scared.’ Tessa shivered, though the air was not cold.
‘There, there.’ Pamela got up to find a box of tissues, handing them out one by one until the crying stopped.
‘He wouldn’t do anything terrible to himself, would he? No matter how upset he was, you don’t think he’d ever—?’
‘Hush now. No, of course not.’
‘Two nights and no word! What if he’s had an accident, and he’s lying out there bleeding or with a broken leg or something?’
‘He would’ve been found by now.’
‘He wouldn’t hitch a lift or get in a car with anyone, would he?’
‘Mitch will be Ok,’ Pamela said firmly. ‘Things always seem worse in the middle of the night. He’ll probably be on the doorstep in the morning, but wherever he is, he’ll be fine. However long we have to wait for him to come back, we have to go on believing that he will.’
‘Oh Mum. It’s all my fault.’
‘Maybe it is,’ Pamela told her briskly, ‘but thinking that is a luxury. It won’t help.’
Tessa looked at her in surprise.
‘I indulged in that for years, and look where it got us,’ said Pamela. ‘Don’t waste your time or your energy. That’s what Erin’s been telling me, and she’s right. Now get into bed. Try to sleep.’
Tessa lay down obediently and let Pamela tuck her in and give her a kiss. ‘Get some sleep, my darling. That’s the most useful thing any of us can do right now.’
As Pamela closed Tessa’s door, an automatic reflex focused her mind on the kitchen cupboard downstairs where she knew Tessa kept a bottle of gin. But she drew herself up, realising proudly that she actually didn’t want a drink, and that it wasn’t even a struggle to push the impulse aside. As she crossed the hallway to Lauren’s bedroom, she suddenly wondered, though, what she
did
want, and hesitated on the threshold. She almost rejected the idea that came to her because it made her shy, reluctant, embarrassed, but once more she straightened her shoulders and moved softly towards Mitch’s room where Hugo was sleeping. She opened the door quietly and looked in. The phone had not disturbed him and he was still snoring, the sound almost like the purr of a cat. The moonlight was enough for her to find her way across to the narrow bed and slip in close beside him.
FORTY-NINE
Once again Tessa woke at first light, unable to remember falling asleep but aware that she’d forgotten something vitally important. The moment it all came back, she threw herself out of bed and went straight to Mitch’s room. For a moment, seeing a sleeping shape under the duvet, she believed it was him, safe and sound, the confusion of yesterday a nightmare. But then Pamela raised her head from the pillow. ‘Any news?’ she asked, struggling to sit up.
‘No, nothing. It’s not even gone six yet.’
Pamela immediately fell back to sleep. Tessa quickly showered and dressed before going down to the kitchen. There she found Hugo already up, listening to the news on the radio. Tessa switched it off: other people’s wars, famines and disasters had crept too close to be mere background noise any more. Glad of Hugo’s comforting silence, she stood beside the Aga trying to gather in its warmth, but her skin felt paper-thin, her body bloodless, her bones too dry to absorb any heat.
She made coffee, more for something to do than because she wanted any, and put a mug in front of Hugo.
‘I used to fantasise about clearing off,’ he said. He seemed almost to be speaking to himself. ‘When trying to deal with Averil got too much, when Pamela wouldn’t listen. I’d get so angry sometimes that I didn’t know what else to do with myself. I just wanted to disappear.’
‘Did you ever go?’ Tessa was curious; Hugo so seldom talked about himself.
‘No. But perhaps Mitch had to. For a little while at least.’
She sat down beside him, longing to unburden herself. But during the sleepless hours before Tamsin’s phone call she had realised that while some secrets were dangerous, not only in their substance but also in the power that accrued around them, some needed to be kept. Until Mitch was found, she and Sam would say nothing about what he had seen, why he had run off, nothing that would hurt Nula. Once Mitch was safe, they must let him decide what to reveal and to whom. Nor could it help anyone to know the truth of her violent conception, or about Roy’s grotesque abuse of her trust. Those were secrets she must keep.
‘I think you’re right,’ she told Hugo. ‘Mitch has had too much to deal with. I’m to blame. I should have listened better.’
‘We’ve all been to blame, Tessie,’ he said. ‘No one can be their best self if they haven’t been told who they are.’
She shook her head. ‘But I do know who I am, only I didn’t think it was enough.’ She looked into his tired, beloved face. ‘I’m so sorry for hurting you.’
‘You’re my girl.’ He squeezed her hand. ‘You’ve never been anything else.’
‘What can I do, Dad? How do I bring Mitch home?’
‘We’ll find him,’ he promised.
When Carol arrived, Pamela and Hugo insisted on helping her to serve breakfast and deal with the guests. Watching them bustle around, making tea and coffee, carrying trays and stacking the dishwasher, Tessa realised how insane it was to carry on the business of caring for strangers when her child was missing. Without consulting the others, she sent off a series of emails cancelling the week’s bookings. Among them was Declan’s monthly visit, and for a second she hesitated: part of her would welcome his pragmatic affection. She thought about telling him what had happened, but knew he’d call to ask if she was all right, and she wasn’t sure she could cope with that. She sent him the same email as the others, then rang Bobbi and other proprietors to on enlist their help, before going into the breakfast room to explain to the four couples eating bacon and eggs and toast and marmalade that she would refund their payments and offer them a complimentary weekend another time, but that regretfully they all had to leave after breakfast.
When they had all gone and the house was empty, Tessa experienced a wonderful sense of liberation. Apart from Christmas or when trade was slack, this was the first time she could remember feeling that the house belonged to her. If Hugo and Pamela stayed here again tonight – and maybe Erin could join them – then they could use more
comfortable rooms. And she vowed to herself that when Mitch came back, he would return to a home and not to the Seafront B&B. She had things the wrong way around: the business should serve her family, not they the business.
An hour later Sergeant Fowler came to report that there had been no sightings, but he could confirm that Mitch had not been the victim of any known accident or assault. They had spoken to Mr Crawford, who had been helpful but could shed no further light on where he might have gone. Sergeant Fowler also explained that he’d discussed with his senior officers the possibility of a full local search, using dogs and even a helicopter with thermal imaging, but with so many miles of coastline on a busy August weekend, and with no certainty anyway that Mitch had gone anywhere near the sea, they had decided to concentrate on other lines of enquiry.
Tessa told him about Tamsin’s phone call, but Sergeant Fowler said Mr Crawford had already supplied her number, and he planned to speak to her himself in case she knew of any people Mitch might go to or places he might be. Meanwhile, with Sam and Tessa’s permission, he wanted to take away Mitch’s computer, to check his email and social networks for any leads.
All this had taken place in the guests’ sitting room with Hugo and Pamela present. Tessa escorted the police sergeant to the front door and followed him out, needing to voice the private fear that had been growing all morning. ‘It’s about Roy Weaver,’ she began. She had earlier told him
about what Janice had said about the photographs, about Roy’s lies and abuse.
Sergeant Fowler nodded. ‘We’ve passed on your intelligence to the prison governor, so they’re aware of the situation. They’ll be monitoring Roy Weaver’s letters and calls for any mention of Mitch.’
‘So you think it’s possible?’ Tessa tried to keep the panic out of her voice. ‘You think he might have got someone to hurt Mitch?’
‘But you said he’d never met your son? Why would he want to hurt him?’
‘To get at me? Because he breaks the rules, he manipulates people?’ Tessa was aware how irrational and farfetched her fears must sound: only a few months ago she would not have believed a word of what Janice had told her in the pub. ‘What if he got someone outside, maybe someone recently released, to do something?’
‘I think that’s highly unlikely,’ said the officer. ‘Unless there’s something you’ve not yet told me?’
She shook her head. ‘I let Roy Weaver into our lives. If he hurts Mitch I’ll never forgive myself.’
‘Please try not to worry so much, Mrs Parker. Most runaways act on impulse and return within a few days. I see no reason to think this case is any different.’
‘But you will check, won’t you? You will make sure it can’t be anything to do with Roy?’
‘We will look into every possibility,’ he assured her. ‘We won’t give up until he’s found.’
Tessa let him go, standing for a moment on the step to
look out to sea. Below her the beach was thronged with holidaymakers. She scanned the crowds: surely Mitch was among them, only just missed out of the corner of her eye? But the miserable truth was that he had been invisible to her for weeks.
She went back indoors and began the task of persuading Hugo and Pamela to go home for an hour or two, insisting she needed some time to herself. Promising to ring if she changed her mind, she finally closed the door behind them and went slowly upstairs, letting the air of the empty house settle around her. She went into Mitch’s room and sat on the window seat, pulling her knees up under her chin as she had often seen him do. She stroked the pane of glass with one finger, as if absorbing any traces his presence might have left. She could feel her fear sinking into her organs, muscles and ligaments, becoming an organic part of her that would remain even if he were to walk in right now. She thought about how she’d heard parents on the news whose kids had been abducted and murdered say how they’d sensed that their child was dead even before a body was found. Thankfully, she had no such second sight: Mitch was not dead, he was missing, only missing, that was all, and she must use all her strength to resist darker thoughts.
It had been a relief to speak to Sergeant Fowler again about Roy. She’d received no letters from him since her last visit, but expected one from him soon. She could hand it over to the police to deal with. She thought instead about the letter she would write to the parole board, the
letter that would keep Roy in gaol. As she was wording it in her head, the doorbell rang and she rushed down the stairs. The front door opened, and Lauren flung herself into Tessa’s arms, wrapping herself tightly around her. ‘Mum!’
Tessa hugged her, inhaling her smell, reacquainting herself with the feel of her child’s skin. ‘Sweetheart!’ She couldn’t bear to let her go.
Over Lauren’s shoulder Tessa saw first Sam and then Nula.
‘No news? Sam asked, though he already knew the answer.
‘Not yet.’ Tessa spoke brightly, aware of Lauren listening with huge anxious eyes. ‘Come in.’
‘Thanks, but I won’t stay,’ said Nula.
‘We’ve only just picked Lauren up from Evie’s,’ Sam explained.
‘We brought you some food.’ Nula held up a heavy picnic bag. ‘So you don’t have to think about it.’