Property of a Lady(22)

‘Yes.’

‘It’s possible, of course, that she’s bunked off for the morning,’ said DI Brent. ‘She’s a bit young for that – it’s usually teenagers – but it’s not out of the question.’

‘No,’ said Nell at once. ‘No, it won’t be that.’ Beth liked the small, friendly school. She said it was much nicer than the big modern one she had attended in North London, and she had made a number of friends.

‘She’s happy there,’ she said to the inspector. ‘I know she is. And she was looking forward to this morning because they were having a spelling test, and she likes spelling. She’s good at it.’ She gripped the sides of the chair. It was important not to remember Beth’s bright eyes and pleased anticipation of the morning, or how the two of them had gone through a list of words last night in preparation, laughing when Nell pretended not to know how to spell cat or dog.

‘Can I ask about her father—?’


‘He died eighteen months ago,’ said Nell, seeing that Inspector Brent was wondering if this was a modern case of a split-up family and the child running off to be with the absent parent. ‘But she’s adjusted fairly well.’ Except for the nightmares, said her mind, and a small alarm bell sounded in her mind. Could this have anything to do with the nightmares? What if Beth had run away because of them? To get away from the man she thought stood in a corner of her bedroom – the man who had no eyes . . . ? But that did not seem to make any sense. She brought her attention back to the inspector, who was saying he was sure there was no cause for real worry.

‘I’ve sent uniform out to look, of course,’ he said. ‘Mark my words, though, she’ll have gone off somewhere with a friend. Maybe they were dared to do it, something of that kind.’

‘Is anyone else missing from the school?’

‘Well, no,’ he said reluctantly.

Nell suddenly wanted Brad more than at any time since his death. He had loved Beth so much; he had cried with emotion on the night she was born, wrapping his arms around Nell and Beth together as if he wanted to shield them from every bad thing the world held. After he had been killed it had been agony to know he would never see her grow up. He would never be there to frown in pretended disapproval at the outrageous clothes she would wear and the music she would listen to, or the boys she would go out with. But what if Beth never grew up – what if she was in the hands of some warped creature who would hurt her beyond bearing?

‘We’ll take you home,’ said DI Brent. ‘I’ll get someone to drive your car – you’re in no fit state – and we’ll come in to check the house in case there are any clues.’ As an apparent afterthought, he said, ‘I dare say there’ll be a recent photograph we can have, will there?’ and Nell understood the photograph would be circulated and maybe even displayed on regional television, with the heartbreaking question: ‘Have you seen this girl?’ She had always felt deeply sorry for parents of missing children, who had to have their private lives broadcast half across the country. Now, she did not care if they beamed Beth’s photograph around the world if it meant finding her.

DI Brent and a woman police officer followed her through the shop and upstairs to the flat. Rain slid relentlessly down the windowpanes, like tears, as if the sky was weeping because Beth was lost. Nell took the recent photo of her daughter from the mantelpiece and removed it from the frame.

‘Will that do?’

‘Yes, certainly. What a lovely girl,’ said the female PC, studying it. ‘I’m sure she’ll be found very soon, Mrs West. I’ll just make a note of what she was wearing this morning if you’ll describe it.’

Nell forced herself to think. Beth had on her ordinary school uniform of grey skirt, white blouse and red pullover. Black shoes and white socks. Asked if Beth’s room could be searched, she said they could ransack the whole building if they wanted.

She sat on the settee, trying to sip the cup of tea the PC had made. If Beth was dead, the world would no longer hold anything, anywhere. She was just about managing to cope with not having Brad, but she would never cope with losing Beth.

While the PC was in Beth’s room, the inspector walked round the sitting room. He paused by the laptop, which was in the shorter part of the L-shaped sittingroom.

‘Does Beth have access to the Internet, Mrs West?’

‘Limited access,’ said Nell. ‘I’ve got the various safeguards on, and I keep an eye on what she does. She doesn’t go in chat rooms or on Facebook.’

‘Can we look?’

‘Yes, certainly.’ It was helpful to have something to do, even something as small as booting up the laptop.

‘She has her own email box?’ he said, opening the email programme.

‘Yes.’

‘Mobile phone?’

‘No. I’ve promised her one for her next birthday though.’

‘They text and email one another even at that age, don’t they?’ he said, with a brief smile, and then scrolled down the few blameless emails. Friends at Beth’s school, some cousins in Scotland on Brad’s side of the family who sometimes sent emails. He paused, and a small frown creased his brow.

‘What’s this one? It’s sent by a Dr Flint, and there’s an attachment.’