The Sister(124)

‘I didn’t come here tonight to talk about society’s ills or what we need to do to make them right. That’s a job for someone else better qualified than I am, but I mention these things because I believe they are all related, part and parcel of the same thing. There’s a limit to what schools can do in support of parents if they themselves do not observe simple disciplines at home.’ He took a sip of water.

‘When I left school, I was unsure of what I was going to do. I wanted to do something worthwhile, and I needed to find out for myself what that was. My education at this school, laid the educational foundations, but it wasn’t until years after I'd left, that I actually found what it was I was looking for. A chance encounter with a teacher from this school pointed the way for me. I won’t bore you with the details, but in a nutshell, as a direct result of that meeting, I chose to become a private investigator and I specialise in tracing missing people.’

He reeled off statistics. ‘Every year, around two hundred and fifty thousand people go missing in this country. Happily, most of them turn up again, safe and well, but some people disappear forever. It’s a dark, disturbing subject, but fascinating at the same time.’

He turned away from the microphone and coughed once into his cupped hand. ‘Excuse me. We all know Fred West and his wife were responsible for the disappearance of – what was it – at least seventeen young people. And because we only find out about the likes of the West’s after they get caught, we’re not in a position to accurately guess how many missing people have fallen victim to opportunistic murderers like them. Serial killers. It’s my belief – and I’m not looking to scare anyone – that there are a number of killers out there, so good at what they do they never come onto the radar. They might not ever get caught. Obviously, there are links to unexplained, mysterious disappearances of adults and children. In most cases, there are no clues. These people simply – just – vanish. Sometimes, remains are discovered years later.’ Miller sipped at his water before continuing. ‘New technology, criminal psychology, neuroscience and DNA profiling advancements are evolving all the time, increasing the chances of the eventual arrest and conviction of these killers, but that isn’t my job. My job is to find missing people alive, before they disappear forever.’ He stepped away from the lectern and bowed to the audience.

A round of applause rippled through the hall accompanied by the hum of male voices raised in conversation, exchanging opinions.

Acknowledging the applause, he raised a hand to doff an imaginary hat and called out, ‘Thank you!’





He made his way to the table, stomach churning with after-speech nerves. It seemed ridiculous a veteran of so many talks could still react as if it were his first speech all over again. Before sitting, he ambled round the table shaking hands with old friends, and introducing himself to those he’d not met before.

A waitress approached with a plate of food the kitchen had saved for him. He held his belly in both hands and grimaced at her. ‘Thank you all the same, but I think I’ll pass. This will do.’ Someone had eaten his roll and butter, so he drew a plateful of unleavened bread towards him.

‘I’ll get you some butter for that,’ she said. Her expression echoed the grimace he’d pulled earlier. ‘It might make it a bit more appetising for you,’ she grinned. ‘Oh, and we saved you a portion of fruit salad.’

Miller shook his head, smiled and politely declined. He ate two slices of the dry bread without realising it was there, not just in case a Jewish diner turned up, but as a gesture to mark the first evening of the Passover. Ironically, it had been passed over by the rest of the men at the table in favour of traditional yeast bread rolls. It was all his knotted stomach would allow in any event, perhaps just as well because a steady stream of interested parties approached him at the table, hoping to engage him in conversation; asking questions relating to his talk. He acquired a fistful of business cards, which he stowed in his pocket. The head teacher collared him for almost an hour before he managed to extricate himself from the conversation on the pretext of having to visit the toilet. When he returned, a number of the men at his table had disappeared. They'd either gone home, or drifted onto other tables. He engaged in sporadic conversation with those who remained, and they gradually whittled down in numbers, until only he and one other were left.

‘Just waiting for the wife to pick me up,’ the other man volunteered.

‘Was this the first time you’ve been back for the reunion  ?’

‘No, I was here once before, years ago. To be honest, I don’t enjoy things like this, but an old friend was supposed to show, and he didn’t—’ he stopped abruptly to answer his mobile.

‘Okay, love I’ll see you outside.’ He stood up. ‘I really had best make a move, it’s been nice talking to you. Loved your speech by the way.’

Miller stood, and they shook hands. He sat down and gazed around the emptying hall. An hour ago the drone of voices meant they had to raise their own to avoid being drowned out, but now they had to speak quietly or risk being overheard. He smiled at that. No one was having secret conversations here tonight. From what he could make out, they wanted everyone else to know who they were, what they were up to and how well they were doing for themselves. I might give next year a miss.

He decided on a top up of red wine. Miraculously, there was still a drop left in one of the bottles, he’d only had half a glass all evening, plus what was left of a small beer, which now looked decidedly flat.