Finding Grace(24)

I’m tight as a drum from the top of my head to my toes. I can’t seem to keep my mind on track in the relaxation exercise of naming the parts; fingers, thumbs, palms, wrists, forearms…

I lose my way time and time again, and my mind starts to drift further and further away until I’m disoriented, trapped in a bubble of anxiety that starts my heart banging, making sleep impossible.

I reach for my phone on the bedside table.

It only rings twice before Dad answers.

‘Lucie? Blake called earlier. Is Grace back home?’

‘No, Dad,’ I say, squeezing down my emotion. ‘They’re… still looking. They’ve taken Blake to the police station.’

‘What?’ He’s dumbstruck for a moment or two. ‘Why? I mean, they don’t think…’

‘They just want to ask him some questions, Dad, it’s a formality. He volunteered to go, to try and keep the press away from the house.’ I glance out of the window, at the shoddy band of local newspaper reporters and photographers. ‘It hasn’t worked, I’m afraid. Looks like they’re going nowhere any time soon.’

Dad sighs. ‘I’m so sorry this has happened, love. I wish I – oh God, I feel like somehow I’m to blame and—’

His voice cracks and for an awful moment, I think he’s going to burst into tears.

‘It’s not your fault, Dad!’ I can’t bear hearing him like this, my rock for so many years. Then I realise I interrupted him. ‘You were saying, you feel like you should’ve… what?’

There’s a beat of silence and when he speaks again, he seems to have collected himself.

‘I just meant I wish I could get out there to help look for her. It’s so frustrating, stuck in here like an invalid.’

‘You’re doing us a massive favour looking after Oscar, Dad. That’s why I’m ringing, to see how he is. It shouldn’t be too long before Blake can fetch him.’

I force myself to imagine Grace home and the four of us being reunited tonight.

‘He’s fine, aren’t you, lad?’ I hear Oscar chuckling in the background. ‘He can stay here as long as you like, you know that.’ He hesitates. ‘But I’d much rather be there with you, love.’

‘Thanks, Dad, but there’s nothing you can do at the moment. I’m just sat here twiddling my thumbs and going quietly crazy waiting for news.’ I feel unable to keep the flat, dark feelings out of my voice.

‘But I can support you and Blake, can’t I? I feel cut off here, I’d like to come over. Be together as a family.’

A tingling pinch starts up between my eyes.

‘OK, thanks, Dad. I’ll send Blake across to pick you up soon as he gets back from the station,’ I manage.

‘Gracie’s bound to be back soon.’ He jollies up his voice but it can’t disguise the weight of his worry. ‘I mean, she’ll have wandered off somewhere, that’s all. Nosy little thing that she is.’

‘I know. I hope so.’ I take a breath. ‘Got to go, Dad, see what’s happening. I’ll tell Blake to call you when he comes home.’

‘Let me know when Gracie’s back,’ he says as I end the call.

I let out a sob.

I hope with all my heart Dad is right and Grace has wandered off somewhere. But how can it take hours for her to resurface again? West Bridgford is a friendly place. A small place. She’d only have to ask someone if she somehow got disorientated and needed to get back to Violet Road.

Deep down, although nobody is actually saying it, we all know that Grace hasn’t wandered off at all. The only logical conclusion, the thing that makes most sense, is that someone has taken her.

I can feel the truth of that unbearable possibility growing with every fibre of my being. Even as I pray it’s not the case, I can feel my own stability beginning to slip.

As each hour passes without Grace, I know it’s only a matter of time before events of the past begin to inch closer. If I allow those pernicious memories to get too close, it could quickly turn into a landslide I won’t be able to escape from.

And I haven’t a chance in hell of helping my daughter if I become ill again.





Sixteen





Sixteen years earlier





Lucie stared at the letter in her hand, read it for the umpteenth time.

‘I’m so proud of you, love,’ her dad said again. ‘The first one in our family to go to university!’

Lucie smiled, and her dad’s usually tired, strained face broke into a wide grin. He had worked so hard for as long as Lucie could remember. Often worked double shifts at the chemical factory to give them both a good life after Lucie’s mum, Susan, left them when her daughter was just three years old.

Susan emigrated to Germany with her new man, Klaus, a wealthy financier.

Susan had divorced Pete and married widower Klaus within a year. She’d kept in touch with her old family for a while, promising to fly back to the UK three or four times a year to see her daughter, but the visits had never materialised.

Lucie was far too young to remember, but Pete told her that Susan was a successful saleswoman for a major UK telecommunications company. She’d been very forward-thinking when it came to travelling to Europe when overseas business was a much smaller market than it was now.