Missing Read online

  His eyes closed. Fifteen years on, and the horror of it could still affect him so deeply that he might have been back in that terrible time. Just a few short minutes was all it had taken. Time enough for Jacqueline to go into the garage to pay for her petrol. When she’d returned the car seat was empty. Their eleven-month-old son had been taken.

  His eyes remained closed; his lungs were unable to draw in air as the sickening gulf of that empty space opened up in him again. It was a space that seemed to consume everything around it, as though nothing else had the right, or even the power to exist beyond it. It was a void that he had so often wanted to vanish into himself, as if somewhere inside its amorphous darkness and shadows he might find some kind of relief, or even, by some bizarre miracle, his son.

  In all his life he would never forget the days and weeks that had followed that dreadful day; the search, the hope, the disbelief and indescribable fear as they’d waited for news, whilst living in mortal terror of a small body being found, or even one tiny scrap of recognisable clothing. The torment was like nothing anyone could ever understand unless they’d been through it too: the terrible imagining of what could be happening to their child, what vile or sadistic practices he might be being forced to endure, his lack of comprehension, bewilderment and pain – and the frantic crying for the parents who’d always kept him safe. Then there were the hours of pathetic, desperate hope that someone had taken him because they had no child of their own, so he was being loved and cared for and might even, one day, be returned to them. Such a merciless see-saw of emotions, such a pitiless streak in fate’s plans.

  There had been no witnesses to the abduction; no CCTV, no one to come forward and give as much as a clue as to what had happened, though traffic had been whirling around the roundabout in front of the garage at the time, and always there were passers-by. It turned out that Jacqueline was the only customer during those few fateful minutes, meaning that apart from the cashier, who’d been busy with her credit card, there was no way of being certain Jacqueline was telling the truth about her son even being in the car.

  This was why, eventually, inevitably, the finger of suspicion had started to turn towards them.

  He’d rather forget the nightmare the police put them through then. From supportive, caring human beings, they’d turned into predatory monsters of the law. Though he’d understood they were doing their duty – a child was missing with no convincing sign of abduction – the horror of being suspected of harming, or worse, killing, their own son was, he felt sure, what had ultimately persuaded Jacqueline that not only was she to blame, but that she needed to pay for what she had done. And, to one degree or another, she’d been paying ever since.

  Had she not already been pregnant with Kelsey, he knew that they’d never have had any more children, because a part of Jacqueline’s self-punishment was to deprive herself of love. She wasn’t worthy of it, either as a woman, or a mother, so she cut herself off from him and Kelsey, both emotionally and physically, never seeming to realise that she was punishing them too.

  That wasn’t to say she didn’t sometimes try with Kelsey, and even attempt to be a wife again, but he’d soon come to realise that the woman he had loved so deeply, and missed almost as much as his son, had gone for good. She could no longer function the same way, because she was incapable of trusting herself, or anyone around her. Life had dealt her one of its cruellest hands, and she lived in morbid dread of it happening again. For her there was no getting past it, or even trying to move on, until Sam came back. She even convinced herself that if she did attempt to let go she would lose what little chance they had of finding him. There was no reasoning with her, though many tried; she simply remained stuck in the belief that it was her fault, so she didn’t deserve to be loved or have any kind of life until she found her son again.

  He’d dealt with his own pain by immersing himself in work. It was his only escape. Without it he felt he’d have gone mad too – but then a story would come in about a missing child, or a paedophile, or some other horrendous abuse, and he would feel himself starting to fall apart inside as all the wounds were torn open again. If a child was found alive and well the relief he felt only seemed to intensify his loss, so that he’d have to take himself off to a private place where he’d weep and sob and plead with God to give him a sign that his son was safe. Or even tell him he was dead – anything except this never-ending hell of not knowing.

  He felt certain now that in forcing Jacqueline to move from Richmond he’d sealed her inability to recover. She’d wanted to stay in that house for ever, waiting and watching, needing to be where Sam could find her, storing up Christmas and birthday presents so she could prove, when he did come back, that she’d never forgotten him. He’d tried to explain that the only way they were ever going to get on with their lives was to attempt to start a new one, but she was incapable of seeing it like that. Richmond was the only home Sam had known while he was with them, so it stood to reason it was where he’d try to find them. In the end she’d had to be tranquillised in order to get her out of the house. Since it had already been sold there was no alternative, and he could only feel thankful that Kelsey hadn’t been around to see the doctors struggling with her, or the passers-by, and even the press who’d somehow got wind of it, all regretfully and salaciously lapping up the scene of this poor, tragic woman being drugged and carried from her home. By then Kelsey was away at school, only returning for half-terms and holidays which had been as difficult for her as they were for her mother. It was her father she turned to for love, and because he felt it more intensely than anything else in his life, he’d never held back from giving it.

  As it turned out, the first couple of years in Kensington hadn’t proved quite as difficult for Jacqueline as he’d feared. Though she’d started out bitterly resenting him for making her move, after a few months she began opening up to him in a way she hadn’t since Sam had gone. There had still been rows, and spells of depression, but for the most part she was calm and actually seemed to enjoy redecorating the house to her taste. After a while they even started entertaining and accepting invitations, something she hadn’t felt up to in years, and when he was promoted to the editor’s chair and she threw a grand party to celebrate, she seemed so proud of him, and so like the woman he’d married, that he began to hope that a return to their physical closeness wasn’t very far off.

  How wrong he had been. How very wrong, for only days after the party a woman who’d contacted them at the time Sam had vanished suddenly got in touch again. It didn’t matter that the police had interviewed her back then and established that she had mental problems, or that she was known to have pestered other couples in their position, her accusations of murder plunged Jacqueline back into a depression so black and severe that Miles had almost felt himself going down with her. At first he kept assuring himself, and Jacqueline, that it was only shock; this was simply the final, and probably most difficult hurdle they had to get over and if they just hung in there they’d make it. But as the weeks and months went by he began to realise he was losing her, particularly when she started behaving in ways she never had before, accusing him of sleeping with other women and even of hiding Sam from her. She’d beat him with her fists in an effort to make him tell her what he’d done with their son, or why she was the only one suffering like this. He had no answers to give her, but even if he had, when she was in such a state she was incapable of hearing them.

  Then one day, about three years ago – twelve torturous years after Sam had gone – she’d suddenly announced that she was going to start a new life in America. No preamble, no forewarning, and certainly no discussion, at least not with him. It turned out she’d talked it over with her sister, and they’d both decided it was a good idea for her to go. To say he was dumbfounded would have been the understatement of his life, for until then he’d had no idea she’d even been considering it.

  ‘We’re no good for one another, Miles,’ she’d told him bluntly. ‘I know you still blam
e me for what happened, and I’m sorry, but I can’t live with that any more.’

  In fact, he didn’t blame her, though he couldn’t deny how often he’d wished she’d taken Sam with her when she’d gone into the garage to pay. ‘When are you going?’ he’d asked, ashamed of, and even shocked by, the relief he was already feeling at the prospect of her departure.

  ‘Next week. I haven’t told Kelsey yet. I thought you could do that, after I’ve gone.’

  So he had, and until the day he’d seen the tears well in Kelsey’s eyes, he knew he hadn’t fully understood how dreadful her little life was. Just like any girl, she needed a mother, and though she rarely admitted it, he knew she loved the one she had and was desperate to be loved in return. Feeling his own emotions rise up as he watched her struggle, he’d tried to comfort her as he broke the news, but she’d pushed him away, not wanting him to think she cared. Only later did she allow the tears to flow as she clung to him with all the fear in her heart.

  ‘You won’t leave me, Daddy, will you?’ she’d sobbed. ‘You won’t go too.’

  ‘No, of course not,’ he’d promised, holding her tight. ‘I’ll always be there for you. You’re my precious girl and nothing’s ever going to change that.’

  Though his words had reassured her, he’d known how hard it was going to be to repair the damage Jacqueline had done. Nevertheless, he’d vowed there and then to try.

  The last thing he’d expected during the weeks following Jacqueline’s departure was to find himself becoming involved with another woman. All he’d wanted then was to feel himself breathing freely again as he devoted himself to Kelsey, doing everything he could to make her feel secure. She was so vulnerable and fragile and demanding of his attention that there shouldn’t even have been room for anyone else in his life, but meeting Vivienne had soon shown him that his capacity for love was far greater than he knew. However, for Kelsey, Vivienne was a complication she couldn’t cope with. It frightened and perplexed her to have her around, and she was too young to understand that her father had been starved of a normal relationship for so long that Vivienne’s freshness felt as vital as air.

  Though Kelsey hadn’t realised it, it was Vivienne who’d enabled Miles to deal with the terrible tantrums his daughter had thrown during that time, when she’d blamed Vivienne for everything that was wrong in her life, rather than even mention her mother. And it was Vivienne’s patience that had kept him together when he’d felt about ready to explode at how rude and impossible Kelsey was being at every turn. Now he shuddered to think of just how dysfunctional he and Kelsey must have been by the time Vivienne had come into their lives, but however bad it was, thank God it hadn’t been bad enough to make her walk. But then the story of their relationship hit the press and Jacqueline had staged a panicked return to England to get her husband back.

  ‘For Christ’s sake why?’ he’d roared, over her pleading and begging. ‘You know it’s no good between us. It hasn’t been for years …’

  ‘I can’t cope without you,’ she’d cried. ‘Miles, please …’

  ‘But you have, all this time, and you still can. Jacqueline, I’m in love with someone else now, please try to understand that. I need to get on with my life.’

  ‘But we belong together, Miles. We always have. This past year has shown me that more clearly than ever. I can’t let you go. You’re—’

  ‘You have to.’

  ‘… Sam’s father. You’re all I have left of him, so without you there’s no point to my life.’

  ‘Jacqueline, please don’t do this. You’re stronger than you think. You don’t need me any more.’

  ‘I’ll prove to you that I do. I’ll show you how much I need you. I swear I will.’

  And her way of doing that was to stage the most appallingly manipulative act of her life, when she’d drugged Kelsey, then cut her own wrists. That she could have taken such a risk with Kelsey’s life had left him with no choice but to make sure it never happened again, and because he knew that in her heart Kelsey wanted to be with her mother, in order to keep her safe he’d ended his relationship with Vivienne and gone back to Jacqueline.

  Now, as the taxi pulled up outside an address in Hampstead, he took out two twenties to pay, while reflecting grimly on how the tragedy of their lives had bound him and Jacqueline more tightly than any marriage vows ever could. In some ways he could almost detest her for the hold she had over him, but the pity he felt was too deeply enmeshed in the love they’d once shared for him to do that. He’d give anything to be able to take away her torment, to set her free from the past so she could finally live again, but because the torment was his too, he knew there was never any escaping it, only different ways of living with it. Sadly, Jacqueline had never really found such a way, which was why, he guessed, she’d never really wanted to go on living at all.

  ‘Oh my God, I have just had like the most brilliant idea. What don’t we have a seance?’

  Kelsey’s lovely young features became instantly troubled as she looked at Sadie, who was lying flat on her back in front of the fire. With her huge brown eyes and round porcelain face Sadie was like an antique doll, precious, delicate and a little bit scary, Kelsey sometimes thought. She was only a couple of months older than Kelsey, but she’d already slept with six boys, or so she said, but no one ever really knew whether Sadie was telling the truth.

  ‘No, what I think we should do,’ Poppy giggled tipsily, ‘is go and see if those reporters are still outside the gates. Some of them looked really fit.’

  Kelsey’s worried eyes went to Poppy’s fluffy dark curls and heart-shaped mouth. She didn’t really like Poppy much, or Sadie come to that, but she’d never let it show, she only smiled and tried her best to be friends.

  ‘They’re like way too old,’ Sadie protested, trying to smother a hiccup. ‘Anyway, it’s chucking it down, so there’s no way they’ll still be hanging about.’ She let her head roll round to look up at Kelsey, who was snuggled into an armchair with the last of her wine. ‘What happened to Mrs D.?’ she asked. ‘Has she gone to bed at last? It’s such a downer having her around.’

  ‘Yes, she’s gone to bed,’ Kelsey answered, feeling stupid and angry that her father had insisted the housekeeper stay over.

  ‘She’s a fab cook,’ Martha piped up from where she was sprawled out on one of the sofas. Martha’s upturned nose and rosy cheeks made her extremely cute, in spite of the freckles that helped camouflage an angry rash of teenage spots. She was Kelsey’s best friend, and had been since the day Kelsey started at the school, when she’d made her feel really welcome. She had even gone to the house mistress to ask her to arrange for them to share a room. Now they shared all their secrets, and Kelsey wished it was just the two of them this weekend, because she always got the feeling that the others didn’t really like her very much. ‘I could have eaten four more bowls of that pasta,’ Martha declared.

  ‘To wear on your arse,’ Sadie murmured, taking another sip of the wine that had turned warm in her glass. ‘Do you still have the key to the cellar, Kelse?’ she asked, looking up again. ‘Why don’t we open another?’

  ‘No, Mrs D. took it back,’ Kelsey replied, torn between relief that she wasn’t being forced to disobey her father, and embarrassment at the way Sadie always managed to make her feel like she needed to get over the adults in her life.

  ‘Whatever,’ Sadie said, yawning. ‘Anyway, I still reckon we should have a seance.’

  ‘No way,’ Martha objected, yawning too. ‘That is like so spooky and weird, and what if some crazy spirit gets out of control and tries to possess one of us? I heard that can happen. And they smash up houses and things.’ She shuddered. ‘No way am I doing it.’

  ‘Don’t be such a wuss,’ Sadie snorted disdainfully. ‘Everyone’s doing it in twelfth year. It’s really cool. You can ask it anything, like who— Oh my God,’ she suddenly exclaimed, clapping a hand to her mouth, ‘we could ask it where your mum is, Kelse. Wouldn’t it be amazing if it told us?’
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  Kelsey’s eyes widened in alarm.

  ‘Yeah, and what are you going to do,’ Poppy piped up, ‘if her mother turns out to be, well, you know, like one of them, or something?’

  Sadie wrinkled her nose. ‘One of who?’ she said. Then, getting it, ‘Oh my God, what you mean she might be … Oh my God, what if she came through? That would be so—’

  ‘Why don’t you just shut up,’ Martha snapped. ‘This is Kelsey’s mother we’re talking about, not some random person none of us ever heard of.’

  Sadie treated her to a seriously snotty look. ‘Listen to you getting all stroppy,’ she pouted. ‘Just because you’re scared.’

  ‘You know what,’ Poppy suddenly announced, ‘I’ve just had the most brilliant idea. Why don’t we find a boyfriend for Kelsey? Would you like that, Kelse? I mean, you’ve never had one, and it’s about time. So who do you like? Tell us, and we’ll fix it up.’

  Kelsey looked from Sadie to Poppy, feeling her insides shrinking as she imagined all the local boys who regularly turned up in the school’s back lane in the hope of meeting the girls. She didn’t fancy any one of them.

  ‘I know, why don’t we choose someone for her?’ Sadie suggested. ‘We can draw up a list, and then pull one of the names out of a hat.’

  ‘Why don’t you just get off Kelsey’s case.’ Martha again came to the rescue. ‘She’s not the only one who’s never had a boyfriend. In fact, if you ask me, I reckon you two are all talk, because I’ve never seen you with anyone.’

  ‘Oh listen to her, like she’s got all the boys running after her,’ Sadie sneered.

  ‘I didn’t say that, but at least I don’t go round making things up.’