Three Hours(63)

*

Rose walks quickly back to the command and control vehicle, the wind slicing through her dress, the snow falling thickly on to her hair and shoulders. She’s numbed with cold by the time she gets inside. Thandie wraps her own jacket around her and she’s grateful.

Before talking to Beth Alton, she’d suggested sending another text with a direct question:

Do you have Jamie Alton with you?



Dannisha had paged her to say Victor had responded.

‘What’s he said?’ Rose asks.

Dannisha shows Rose Victor’s response.





Dannisha types:

How is Jamie?





Is he ok?



Having a fuckin blast man, a fuckin blast



What do you mean?



Need me to fuckin spell it out moron? He’s my pal my wingman





14.


11.00 a.m.


Beth Alton goes outside the Portakabin, scanning for Rose Polstein, the wind blowing snow against her face and into her eyes. She sees a blur of movement, hopes it’s Rose, but it’s three police officers, wearing black and carrying guns, moving fast towards the school. Her mobile is in her pocket, so that it doesn’t freeze or get wet and stop working; her fingers are tightly around it. The helicopter overhead beams a searchlight down and for a moment she is blinded, has to blink to see again.

She takes out her mobile and tries ringing Jamie, expecting it to go straight through to message again. But it doesn’t! It rings and rings, and she thinks he’s going to answer, that he’ll hear her special ringtone and answer! But after seven rings it goes to message.

Rose Polstein is walking towards her through the snow, with that upright marching stance. Beth hurries to meet her.

‘Jamie’s phone’s on! It just rang. Didn’t go straight to his message.’

‘Did he answer?’

‘No. But it rang several times, seven or more.’

Rose Polstein’s face is drawn like she’s suddenly very tired.

‘We think his phone was powered off or the battery was out until very recently,’ she says. ‘But now his phone’s on again and we’re tracing the location.’

Rose goes into the Portakabin. Beth follows her quickly inside.

‘So you can find him; you can get him out!’

Rose sits down on a plastic chair and gestures to Beth to sit next to her but she doesn’t want to sit down. She wants Rose to tell her how they’re going to rescue him.

‘Has Jamie been lonely?’ Rose asks.

What does that matter? For God’s sake, why are they even in a Portakabin while Jamie is out there?

‘Has he ever been violent?’ Rose Polstein asks.

‘Of course not, why—?’

‘Has he said anything to you recently that’s been out of character or strange?’

‘Why are you asking me these things?’

‘Mrs Alton, I need to know.’

A conversation with Jamie, a real one from just a fortnight ago, creeping then pushing its way in:

‘Jesus, just stop the questions.’

‘I just want to know if you’re okay at school, with friends and things, and—’

‘Get the fuck off my case.’

‘I’m worried about you, sweetheart, that you’re lonely and—’

‘Yeah, and what can you do about it? I’m not in fucking nursery school, Mum.’

She’d held on to the ‘Mum’, like a tiny thing at the end of a cruel sentence that still meant they had a connection with each other. Because the truth is that the Jamie she’s been talking to in her head, well, she hasn’t heard from that boy for nearly six months; that long since she went out with him in the car on the farm track, teaching him to drive, longer since they went to visit St Andrews; all those words and phrases of his taken from six months ago and earlier.

He doesn’t mean to hurt her though, she knows that; he still thinks mothers are unassailable. And her lovely boy is there, but hidden inside the bolshie teenager. And she has proof of that because at Halloween she and Mike had talked to him and he’d listened to them, had agreed not to see or talk to Victor again; he’d minded what they said and taken their advice.

But then he’d retreated back into his surly shell, a camouflage to disguise unhappiness. And it’s just being a teenager, for heaven’s sake, unknotting the apron strings, and loads of mothers complain about it, their loving little boys, the girls too, becoming rude teenagers, and it’s worse when you’ve been particularly close, like her and Jamie. And yes it can feel like a stranger has arrived in your child’s body. But her beloved boy is still there. And later, after this terrible thing is over, they’ll be reunited, hugging, and she’ll be crying, heart soft as a baby bird, Mum, and they’ll be close again.

‘Victor and Jamie have been WhatsApping, Snapchatting and phoning each other; over the last few weeks, they’ve spoken more than a dozen times a day.’

‘I don’t understand.’

‘We’ve gathered information on Victor’s phone and Jamie’s too. And we have phone calls logged between them, as well as messages, including earlier this morning.’

Rose Polstein’s face is close to hers, looking at her with sympathy that is damning her son.