Where the Missing Go(23)

‘Nope. All fine.’ I shake my head for emphasis. There is nothing like denying you have a problem to make it sound like you have a problem.

‘OK. Well, for now, if you still think you need them, I’m happy to renew your prescription.’ It’s anxiety and insomnia, officially. A fun combination. ‘But you shouldn’t really be waking up on your dosage.’

‘You see, I was trying to cut back.’

‘Perhaps for now, while you’re feeling under pressure, you need that crutch. Why don’t you stick to the prescription, and then we can see about tapering off, sensibly, in due course.’

I can feel myself sag with relief. He’s always been supportive, even after – everything.

‘But the side-effects?’ I ask. ‘I read that you shouldn’t be on them for more than a few months and’ – I can feel myself growing pink – ‘it’s been a bit longer than that.’

He shakes his head. ‘Nothing that you need to worry about.’ He glances at the screen. ‘But it says here in your notes that I referred you to a grief counsellor. Remind me, are you still seeing her?’

He knows I’m not, but is too polite to call me out. ‘We’re taking a bit of a break at the moment.’

‘Kate …’ He looks at me over his glasses. ‘Medication is one thing, but it’s important to tackle the root of the problem. If that counsellor didn’t work, there are others, you know, you might just not have had the right chemistry. There’s a waiting list, but it’s certainly worth referring you. Shall I?’

‘Well, why not.’ I add, slightly sourly: ‘But the root of the problem is hard to get to, isn’t it? She’s not come back.’

‘I can’t imagine … but I’m always here to help.’

Maybe it’s because he’s not someone I’m close to, something in me can unlock. ‘I just feel like I’ve failed, in every way. I failed her, as a mother. And I’m still failing her, even now. Because I haven’t found her.’ I can feel the tears welling up, never that far from the surface.

He leans forward, his blue eyes concerned behind the glass. ‘I know.’ I’ve told him before. And nothing ever changes. ‘I just think if we can get you to some … acceptance of the situation – your new reality – you might feel a little better. I know it won’t make it right. But you might feel more at peace with what’s happened, if that’s the way to put it. That’s why I really feel returning to counselling might help.’

I don’t want to accept it, I want to scream. I will never accept my daughter going away; you shouldn’t ask me to. I told you: she just phoned me.

‘OK,’ I say. I’m already regretting my outburst. So I shift in my seat and do the British thing. I change the subject. ‘OK. Also, I wanted to ask …’ I take a deep breath. ‘If Sophie had had a pregnancy scare before she ran away, would you have a record of that?’

He sits up straighter. ‘And what makes you think she was pregnant?’

‘Oh, I don’t. Not really. Just something her friend said.’

But it’s been preying on my mind all morning. What if, what if. What if it was more than a pregnancy test, if that result wasn’t what she told Holly. The trauma of going through that alone. A procedure. That could explain a lot, perhaps …

‘Well,’ he says. ‘That’s not necessarily something her doctor would know about.’ He pauses. ‘Patient confidentiality is important, of course. But I think you can understand that perhaps she’d be unlikely to raise it with me, as her family’s doctor.’

He raises his eyebrows at me. I get what he’s saying: she didn’t tell him anything. ‘And there are a lot of other options. Young people’s services. Clinics.’

‘Of course.’ I knew it was a long shot. I start getting my stuff together, aware that my ten minutes must be up.

‘But you’ve mentioned this to the police?’

‘Yes, I mentioned it, to this detective. He didn’t seem to think it was important.’

He frowns. ‘I would have thought all the details were important, even now.’

‘You think?’ I feel vindicated – and a little worried. ‘Thanks. And I won’t leave it so long next time.’

‘Any time.’





12


There’s no wind, only a few puffs of cloud hanging high and still in the sky, as I drive through Amberton. Surely there will be a storm soon, this weather’s got to break. It’s not far at all to where I’m going, but I notice the change, the houses getting smaller, less cared for, as the town merges into the outskirts of the city.

I was already nearly home, when I decided, and turned back in the direction I’d come.

I’m going to try to see Danny, Sophie’s old boyfriend, and ask him about what Holly said. I’ve been wondering if I am just being ridiculous, after what DI Nicholls said on the phone. Then I realised I was wasting time, and got angry with myself. Just do it.

There’s a body in the garage, half under a car on a rig, as I drive in. That’ll be Danny’s grandad, Len. I came here a couple of times before it all happened, I was always pranging my big car before I got used to it, and keeping it quiet from Mark. So I knew him to speak to, I would nod if I saw him around.