Missing Page 2
‘I know what you’re going to say, that we’re in no position to be choosy, but cleaning up the image of porn stars isn’t what we want to become known for.’
‘If we want to survive it might have to be.’
Reluctantly conceding the point, Vivienne said, ‘OK, we’ll look at it when you get here. Now, tell me more about the WI and Sharon Goss.’
No reply.
‘Alice? Are you there?’
Realising the connection had been lost, Vivienne hung up and returned to her computer. Alice would ring back when she emerged from whatever tunnel, or dip, or black hole of the English countryside she’d plunged into. Meanwhile it would be a good idea to start reacquainting herself with Irwin’s movie, for six months had passed since their original pitch for the business.
Ten minutes later the phone rang again. Presuming it was Alice she picked up, saying, ‘OK, where were we?’
There was a pause before the voice at the other end said, ‘Now that isn’t a question I was expecting, so I’m afraid I don’t readily have an answer.’
The blood drained from Vivienne’s face as her heartbeat slowed and her head started to spin. ‘Miles,’ she said, thrown by the intensity of her reaction, even though she’d known, since receiving his message last week, that it would affect her profoundly when they did finally speak. She just hadn’t realised how powerfully the sound of his voice would move her.
‘Am I interrupting?’ he said. ‘Is this a bad time?’
‘No, it’s not a bad time,’ she assured him, and as though needing to confirm it she glanced at the clock. Five minutes to ten on a Monday morning. She took a breath to speak again, but suddenly too many thoughts were crowding her mind, while too many emotions filled the spaces inside her. She had never loved anyone the way she loved this man, and as the force of it came swirling out of the past, intensifying the hold on her heart, she had no way to resist it. ‘Did you get my email?’ she asked.
‘I did, but I wanted to speak to you in person. Incidentally, I hope it was OK that I gave your number to the WI?’
‘Yes, yes of course.’
‘I was going to get in touch anyway, then they called and … Well … How are you?’
‘Fine. I’m … Uh, it’s good to hear you.’ Was it? Yes, of course, but why was he calling? Had he found out what she’d been keeping from him? What would she do if he had? Suddenly it was hard to breathe. ‘Is everything OK?’ she asked, managing to push her voice through the tightness in her chest. ‘It’s been a long time.’
‘Just over two years.’
She stood up, and carried the phone to the window. Outside an impervious world was going about its business, carrying on as though nothing extraordinary or momentous was happening anywhere, when it surely must be – not only here, in her small space, but in all the random vehicles crossing Kew Bridge, the planes flying overhead, the barges cruising the river. ‘What are you doing these days?’ she asked, wanting to delay the real reason for his call. It was safer this side of knowing, where hope still had a chance and dread could be ignored. ‘I know you resigned.’ There was an ironic lilt to her voice which echoed in his as he said, ‘Faced with Hobson’s choice I tried to remain as dignified as possible.’
She laughed, and felt the pleasure of it moving through her like warmth after an endless chill.
‘As to what I’m doing now,’ he said, ‘I’m supposed to be writing a biography of our illustrious ex-prime minister, but I confess progress is slow and the subject is, shall we say, not always thrilled by the author’s approach to his inimitable … achievements.’
Again she smiled. As the ex-editor of a national newspaper who’d made no secret of his contempt for recent government policy, or his loathing for the American mogul who’d acquired his paper by fouler means than fair, it was no surprise that a publisher was keen to get Miles into print. Not that his name had disappeared from the media since his very public resignation a year ago, for his opinion was regularly sought on any number of topics, from Middle East unrest to education reforms.
How exhilarating their time together had been, in so many ways, and inspiring and right – and doomed, though thank God she hadn’t known it then.
‘How are things in the world of public relations?’ he asked.
She grimaced. ‘They’ve been better, but it’s starting to pick up again.’ She only hoped she was speaking the truth, but Irwin’s movie was a good sign.
She was gazing at her reflection in the window, a hazy figure merging with the slick, viscous strip of the river outside and the greyness of the sky. It could almost have been the ghost of her former self, staring back with haunted eyes and a pale, heart-shaped face. In reality, her eyes were a lustrous blue. Her cheekbones were high and naturally blushed, her mouth full and red, her hair long and heavy and almost black. ‘We’re still in Pier House, next to the river,’ she said.
‘… and close to home.’
‘And close to home,’ she confirmed, letting him know that she hadn’t moved from the small town house she’d had when they were together, though the arrears on her mortgage meant this might soon become necessary. ‘We have another partner now,’ she continued. ‘Pete Alexander. Actually, he’s freelance, but Alice and I like to think of him as ours.’
‘How is Alice?’
‘She’s OK. I’m sure she’d want me to say hi. Actually she’s been in Kenleigh this weekend.’
‘In response to the WI?’
‘Yes. I’d have gone myself but I was … otherwise engaged.’ What an absurd thing to say. She wished she could take it back.
‘Does that mean what I think it does?’
Realising what he’d read into it, she said, ‘That I’ve met someone else? No, I haven’t.’ Maybe she should have lied, but it was too late now. ‘Where are you?’ she asked, presuming he was at home in Kensington, since it was a weekday and he no longer had an office to go to.
‘I’m in Devon.’
At that her heart gave a painful twist and her eyes closed, but it was impossible to shut out the image of him at the sprawling seventeenth-century farmhouse his grandfather had bought in the twenties and Miles had inherited six years ago. She’d loved the place almost as much as he had; it was where they’d spent every weekend and holiday while they were together, and they had even drawn up plans to modernise it in keeping with its heritage. They’d been so happy then, and in love, until fate had intervened to tear them apart.
‘I guess I should come to the point of my call,’ he said.
The earnestness of his tone caused her heart to trip.
‘Actually, I should probably have said this at the start,’ he went on, ‘but I want you to know that I wouldn’t be putting either of us through this if it weren’t necessary.’
Experiencing a quick panic as the loss she’d felt when he’d told her it was over seemed to move out of the shadows to claim her again, she took a step back as though to escape it. ‘This sounds ominous,’ she commented with a shaky laugh.
‘Maybe it is. I’m not sure.’ Then, after a pause, ‘I need to know … Have you seen or heard from Jacqueline recently?’
She became very still. It could hardly be a serious question, yet he’d never have asked if it weren’t. ‘You mean your wife Jacqueline?’ she said, as if there could be any other. ‘Why would you think I’ve seen her?’ A voice was crying out in her head, you were separated when we were together, she has no reason to come looking for me. She put a hand to her mouth, as though to prevent the words from tumbling out. I’m not the cause of her problems, she wanted to say.
Only when he answered did she realise how tense he’d sounded before. ‘I guess that tells me what I need to know. She hasn’t been in touch at all?’
‘No, but why are you asking?’
He took a breath. ‘The last time any of us saw her was over three weeks ago. She was supposed to be going up to London. As far as I know she got on the train at Exeter, but I haven’t heard from her since.’
‘But it’s never been this long before.’
With a multitude of unworthy, as well as unnerving thoughts whirling around in her head, Vivienne said, ‘What about Kelsey? Surely she must have …’
‘She hasn’t contacted Kelsey either. We’ve both tried calling and leaving messages, but I’m afraid things haven’t changed with Jacqueline, she still disappears at random, and never answers until she’s ready to.’
Feeling the craziness of his life mixing with the anger she felt at how resolutely it stood between them, she asked, ‘Are you sure she came to London?’
‘Only insofar as I dropped her at the station. I didn’t wait around to make sure she got on the train.’
The image of Jacqueline Avery turning heads as she strode into the station at Exeter, all Chanel couture and chic blonde chignon, was an easy one to conjure, and perhaps even to admire. Yet it wasn’t real, because very little about Miles’s wife was what it seemed. She was like a book whose cover told the wrong story, a glittering window masking a room full of dark secrets. To look at her there was simply no way of telling that she often couldn’t cope with her life, because there was nothing to see on the outside that set her apart from any other attractive woman of her age.
‘You still haven’t answered my question,’ she reminded him. ‘Why do you think she’d be in touch with me?’
There was a pause before he said, ‘She thinks we’re still—’ He stopped and her heart turned over as she realised what he’d been about to say. ‘She knows things can’t go on the way they’ve been since she came back,’ he continued, his tone betraying how hard he was finding this. ‘We’ve tried talking about it, God knows we’ve tried, but the next day it’s as though she hasn’t taken anything in. I know she has, but she chooses to pretend—’ He broke off again. ‘I’m sorry, this isn’t your problem. I just needed to know if you’d seen her.’
Though Vivienne’s every instinct was warning her not to become involved again, she knew there was no way to avoid it, not only because of how she felt about Miles, but because of what Jacqueline’s disappearance could mean for her. ‘Did something happen before she left?’ she asked carefully.
‘Not really. She and Kelsey had a blazing row a few weeks ago. They were here in Devon at the time, and I was in London. I only knew about it when Kelsey called to tell me I had to get her mother certified or she wouldn’t be held responsible for her actions.’
Feeling the tragedy of this being no normal teenage cry, she said, ‘I take it you’ve asked Kelsey what it was about?’
‘Of course. She says it was all the usual stuff, Jacqueline’s coldness and refusal to listen or communicate. Her inability to let go of the past …’
Vivienne could feel her mouth turning dry, but the past didn’t mean her – it meant a long time before she’d ever come into their lives. Then, remembering something he’d once told her, she said, ‘What about the flat she used to have? Might she be there?’
‘She sold it over a year ago.’
‘Perhaps she’s bought another without telling you.’
‘I can’t find anything to say she has, and I’ve been through her papers both here and in London.’
Vivienne swallowed hard. ‘Have you contacted the police?’ she asked.
‘Not yet, but I think I’ll have to.’
Her eyes moved to the door as Kayla returned with a bottle of champagne and a dripping umbrella.
‘Sorry, I shouldn’t be laying this on you,’ Miles was saying. ‘I’ll ring off now. You have my numbers, in case you need to call.’
‘If they haven’t changed, yes.’
‘They’re the same.’
A silence followed that neither of them attempted to fill, but there was no need when they both knew what the other was thinking, and even feeling. It had always been that way with them, and finding it hadn’t changed was perhaps more difficult to bear than all the other emotions that were burning inside her.
Finally, hearing the line go dead, she clicked off too and carried the phone back to her desk, suddenly realising she was shaking.
‘Champagne’s in the fridge,’ Kayla shouted from the kitchen. ‘Fancy a coffee for now?’
Vivienne barely looked up as she answered. A hundred more questions were starting to emerge through the longing Miles had left her with, but she wouldn’t call back to ask them. She needed to think, to assimilate how Jacqueline’s disappearance might affect her – and how she might handle it if she turned up here. The thought of it caused a shudder of unease in her heart, and putting her head in her hands she took a deep, steadying breath.
Had Jacqueline not decided to end her marriage three years ago and go to live with her sister in the States, Vivienne doubted she and Miles would ever have been more than a passing introduction at the launch of a new magazine. As it was, Miles was free to pursue an attraction that had been as instant and powerful for her as it had for him, and they’d dropped all the pretence and gone home together that night. Within a week he’d told her everything about his marriage and his life, and it was around the same time that they’d both admitted to something special happening between them.
Their relationship hadn’t been easy, particularly at the beginning, when he’d regularly called Miami to find out how Jacqueline was, or to ask if there was anything she needed. She rarely wanted to speak to him, and when she did she merely told him to get on with his life and forget all about her. Kelsey should do the same, she’d say, and Vivienne could only imagine the hurt that must have caused the poor child.
It was mainly because of Kelsey that she and Miles had never flaunted their relationship in public, preferring to give his daughter some time to get used to her parents being apart before asking her to accept someone else in her father’s life. Not that she and Vivienne didn’t meet, because they did, but the troubled child’s fear of someone stealing her beloved daddy’s affections had made her hostile to Vivienne in a way that had caused several rows between her and her father. However, Vivienne had remained determined to work at it, and Miles wouldn’t be dissuaded from envisaging a future with a new wife, and perhaps even a new family that would give Kelsey the siblings she’d always lacked.
Quite what Kelsey might have thought of her father’s plans they’d never found out, because one Saturday evening, while they were in Devon and Kelsey was spending the weekend with a friend, Miles had received a call from his deputy editor warning him that The News on Sunday, clearly short of a story that weekend, was going to make a splash of his relationship with Vivienne.
Miles had been furious. Since he and Jacqueline were no longer together he could hardly be accused of cheating, so there was no doubt in his mind that the story was being run out of malice. The editor of The News on Sunday detested Miles with a Wagnerian fervour. Not that the animosity had shown in the article, far from it. Gareth Critchley was much too clever for that. He’d merely congratulated Miles on finding true love at last, because no one could have deserved it more after all he’d been through with his tragically disturbed wife. Then Critchley had sat back to watch the fallout that only he, Miles and a handful of others had known would follow.
It hadn’t taken long, because within days Jacqueline was back from the States, by which time Vivienne and Miles were in London, and the scenes that followed would remain with Vivienne for ever. There had been no way she and Miles could have stayed together after that, for Jacqueline had shown them then, in the worst way imaginable, how far she was prepared to go to keep them apart.
Now, a little over two years later, just as Vivienne was starting to feel she might be able to get on with her life, Miles was calling to tell her Jacqueline had disappeared.
‘OK, boss, if you don’t want to answer the phone I will,’ Kayla declared, plonking a steaming mug of coffee on the desk, and like the chirpily efficient assistant she was, she snatched up
the nearest receiver, saying, ‘Kane and Jackson, the one and only Kayla speaking. Oh hi, Alice. Yes, she’s still here.’
Vivienne picked up the phone. ‘Before we go any further,’ she said to Alice, ‘Miles has just called.’
At that Kayla’s head came up and Alice fell silent.
‘So what did he say?’ Alice finally managed.
‘Apparently Jacqueline’s disappeared. No one’s seen or heard from her for about three weeks.’
‘Oh my God,’ Alice groaned.
‘Shit,’ Kayla murmured.
‘This goes to the top of the agenda when I get there,’ Alice stated. ‘Whatever else is going on in our world, nothing takes precedence over this.’
An hour later Alice was pacing up and down the office, a hand buried in her wavy, golden hair, a deep frown darkening her softly freckled features.
‘So no one actually knows if she came to London?’ she said, referring to Jacqueline. ‘I mean, she could have waited for Miles to drive away from the station, then hopped into a taxi and gone anywhere? If what he’s telling us is true.’
Vivienne started. ‘Why on earth would he lie?’ she challenged.
Alice looked at her incredulously, then slightly tempering her instinctive response to such naivety, she said, ‘Try to remember, you’re the one who’s in love with him. The rest of us aren’t clouded by rose-tinted specs, or delusions of romance that—’
‘Don’t be mean,’ Kayla interrupted. ‘She didn’t ask to fall in love—’
‘Kayla, when you’ve got a grip on reality that doesn’t involve Hollywood, you can speak,’ Alice snapped, ‘until then, please leave it to me.’ As she turned back to Vivienne Kayla poked out so much tongue that Vivienne couldn’t help but laugh. ‘Ignore her, she’ll grow up one of these days,’ Alice commanded, lending weight to Kayla’s belief that she had eyes in the back of her head. ‘Now, what I’m concerned about is this: when exactly did Jacqueline disappear? What prompted her to go?’
‘How can I possibly know that?’ Vivienne protested.
‘I don’t suppose you can, but I think it’s important, don’t you, because the last thing you need is that woman turning up on your doorstep, or worse, dropping in on your mother for a nice cosy little chat, so we need to know—’