Just My Luck(83)

Liv looks nervous. Her eyes drop to the dancefloor. The boys snigger and then start to melt away into the crowd, not interested in girls who attract parental attention. Nella stares at them, something close to anguish in her pretty, plump face. I watch as she makes a quick calculation. She does not want to lose the boys; she needs to wrap up this conversation and get rid of me. ‘She’s probably just somewhere with Ridley,’ she garbles.

With Ridley? I try not to alter my expression. ‘Are they back together?’ I hope my tone is lighter than my heart. The girls shrug and then move away from me to chase after the boys they were dancing and flirting with. That’s far more important to them right now than Emily’s goings-on.

I return to where Jake and Logan are standing. Logan is looking tired. Pale and shadowy. I suggest he goes home. ‘One of the security guys could go with you in the taxi.’ He just scowls at me, unimpressed by the idea. I know he wants to be here until the bitter end. We have a licence to play music until 1 a.m. I guess with all the sugar he has undoubtedly consumed, he’ll manage to push through until then.

‘Her friends think she might be with Ridley,’ I inform Jake. ‘I think she might have got back with him.’

He nods. ‘Most likely.’

‘Why would she want to do that?’ I demand, thinking about how Ridley stood by and allowed Megan and her monsters to beat Emily. I should never have agreed to him being here.

‘Because she’s still in love with him,’ replies Jake simply with a sigh.

‘No, she isn’t!’ I say this forcefully because I want to be right. ‘She’d have told me,’ I insist. But then would she? Emily and I haven’t been having many heart-to-hearts of late. ‘Did she tell you?’ I demand.

‘She didn’t have to. I know my daughter.’

It’s an accusation. I hear it loud and clear. When did that happen? When did Jake start to know what was going on in Emily’s head better than I do? I check my phone but there are still no messages. ‘Have you’ve tried that find my iPhone tracking thing?’ We all have this app on our phones; I can’t tell you how many times it’s saved the day when one or the other of us has believed we’ve lost our phone.

‘It won’t be specific enough in a field this size.’ Jake takes a big gulp of his beer, lets his gaze fall on the dancers.

I try it anyway. Knowing she’s on the field would be some sort of reassurance. I mean of course she must be. Why would she be anywhere else? But even so, I’d like the matter confirmed. ‘No joy. It just says her phone is offline.’

‘She’s probably out of power.’

‘She was fully charged when we left the house.’

‘But she’ll have taken loads of photos and been posting on Snapchat all night. That drains the battery.’ It’s a brand-new phone with a huge capacity but I grab the thought anyway. I quickly look at her Instagram account. She last posted when the sky was still light. I tell Logan to check Snapchat, which I don’t have and I don’t understand. He does as I ask him, and I stand by, watching intently.

‘Nope, nothing,’ he says.

‘Most likely she’s just switched off her phone,’ says Jake.

‘I told her to keep her phone on tonight.’ The anxiety begins to swell and solidify. It grows into a throbbing apprehension, cementing in the base of my back, it’s pulling me to the ground. I stagger a bit, prop myself up against a bar table. Legs and hands shaking. My brain behind my body. I breathe in, deeply.

‘So our teenager doesn’t want to be found,’ Jake says, grinning. ‘That’s not exactly breaking news. My guess is she’s sneaked off with some of her new friends. Probably trying dope for the first time.’

‘And that doesn’t bother you?’ I snap.

‘Of course it bothers me. I’m just saying most likely whatever she is up to, it isn’t Armageddon.’

Jake has always taken a looser position on drugs than I have. He sees them as inevitable, experiential. I really do see them as Armageddon. I force myself not to sound too frantic but can’t stop myself asking, ‘So you do think something is up?’

‘I didn’t mean that. Look, have a drink. Try to enjoy yourself, Lexi.’

‘I can’t enjoy myself,’ I insist.

‘That’s half the problem,’ he sighs.

I want to ask him what the other half is. I want to tell him what it is. I shiver, despite the sticky heat in the tent. The heat is intensified by the sentences that also hang in the air, half formed. Too lethal to commit to.

‘We should call Ridley and her friends, everyone in her school year. Everyone we invited from her old school and the new one. We have the new class list. I think I have it on my phone.’ As I scramble to open contacts, Jake places his hand over my phone.

‘Just take a breath, Lexi. She’s just out there, drunk and sleeping it off. Let’s not make a fuss. Blow this out of proportion. What sort of first impression are we going to make on the parents at the new school if we call and say she’s missing at her own party? If we call at this time of night, they’ll all just worry about their own kids, half of which have gone home with different friends etc. It would cause a panic.’

I glare at Jake but reluctantly accept he might have a point. I leave Logan in the dance tent with Jake and go outside to look for Emily. I tell myself that most likely there is nothing seriously wrong but my years of mothering means that I do know one thing: if a child doesn’t want to be found, they probably should be.