FW: Just after seven. We were one of the first. The invite said 6.30 for 7, and I think Sharon had actually expected people to come at half past. She was really on edge when we got there. I think she might have been worried no one would turn up. She’d gone to huge trouble about it all – I told her, everyone would have been happy to pitch in and bring stuff, but she wanted to do everything herself. It was all laid out on the tables in the garden, under cling film – that stuff is so horrible, don’t you think, I mean -
VE: You said she was on edge?
FW: Well, yes, but only about the party. She was fine later, once it got going.
VE: And Barry?
FW: Oh, Baz was the life and soul, as usual. He’s always very sociable – always finds something to say. I’m sure the party was his idea. And he dotes on Daisy – the usual dads and daughters thing. He’s always picking her up and carrying her about on his shoulders. She did look very sweet in that flower get-up. It’s sad when they grow out of the dressing-up phase – I wanted Alice to wear fancy dress last night but she point-blank refused. She’s only a year above Daisy but now it’s all crop tops and trainers.
VE: You must know Barry Mason pretty well?
FW: I’m sorry?
VE: You called him ’Baz’.
FW: [laughs] Oh Lord, did I say that? I know it’s awful, but that’s what we call them, well, some of us. ‘Baz ’n’ Shaz’. Short for Barry and Sharon, you know? But for God’s sake don’t tell Sharon I called her that – she absolutely hates it – blew her top once when someone let it slip out by mistake.
VE: But Barry doesn’t mind?
FW: Seems not to. But he’s pretty easy-going. More so than her. Not that that’s difficult.
VE: So when did you last see her - Daisy?
FW: I’ve been racking my brains about that. I think it was just before the fireworks. There were lots of little girls running about all night. They were having a whale of a time.
VE: And you didn’t see anyone talking to her – or anyone you didn’t recognize?
FW: There weren’t many people there I didn’t know. I think they were all from the estate. At least, I don’t remember anyone from the other side.
VE: The other side?
FW: You know. Over the canal. The posh lot. You don’t get them slumming it over here very much. But in any case, as far as I remember Daisy spent the whole time with her friends. Adults are pretty dull when you’re that age.
VE: And your husband – Owen? Was he there?
FW: Why do you want to know that?
VE: We just need to know where everyone was –
FW: Are you suggesting Owen had something to do with it, because I can tell you right now –
VE: Like I said, we just need to know who everyone was at the party.
[pause]
It’s possible we may have found the tights Daisy was wearing. Do you remember if she still had them on when you last saw her?
FW: I’m sorry, I really can’t remember.
VE: And she didn’t fall over or hurt herself at the party, as far as you saw?
FW: No, I’m sure I’d have remembered that. But why do you ask that – what difference does it make?
VE: There was blood on the tights, Mrs Webster. We’re trying to find out how it got there.
*
At 8.30 I’m in the car, parked round the corner in Waterview Crescent, which is definitely one notch up on the property pecking order – three-storey townhouses, and even, would you believe, a couple of stone lions on plinths at the entrance. I’m eating a pasty someone has brought over from the petrol station on the main road. I can feel my arteries clog just looking at it. But there’s a press conference scheduled for ten, and if I don’t eat anything I’m going to be light-headed. And while I’m at it, the car is a Ford. In case you’re wondering. And I don’t do bloody crosswords either.
There’s a tap on the driver’s window and I wind it down. It’s DC Everett. Verity, her name is – I told her once, with a name like that she was destined for this job. And she won’t give up looking for it either – the truth, I mean. Don’t let that stolid appearance fool you – she’s one of the most ruthless officers I’ve ever had.
‘What is it? What did Fiona Webster have to say?’
‘Plenty, but this isn’t about that. The old dear at number thirty-six. She saw something. A couple of minutes after eleven, she says. She’s sure because she was about to phone the council nuisance line about the noise.’
I remember what Sharon Mason said about people reporting you. Perhaps I misjudged her – you’re not paranoid if your neighbours really are shits.
‘So what did this Mrs – ’
‘Bampton.’
‘What did Mrs Bampton say?’
‘She says she saw a man walking away from the Masons’ house with a child in his arms. A girl, and she was crying. In fact more like screaming, the old lady says. That’s why she went to the window in the first place.’
I’m shaking my head. ‘It was a party. How do we know it wasn’t perfectly innocent – that it wasn’t one of the fathers on his way home?’
If I’m pushing back it’s not because I doubt what she’s saying, it’s because I really don’t want this to be true. But her cheeks are pink – she’s on to something. ‘Mrs Bampton says she couldn’t see the man’s face at that distance, so she can’t give us a description.’
‘So how does she know it was a girl he had with him?’
‘Because she was wearing fancy dress. She was wearing a flower outfit.’
*
09.00
Thames Valley Police @ThamesValleyPolice
Can you help find Daisy Mason, 8? Last seen on the Canal Manor estate #Oxford Tuesday midnight. Any info call on 01865 0966552
RETWEETS 829
09.08
BBC Midlands @BBCMidlandsBreaking
There will be a police press conference at 10 a.m. this morning about the disappearance of 8-yr-old Daisy Mason
RETWEETS 1,566
09.11
ITV News @ITVLiveandBreaking
BREAKING: Oxford police to detail the search to find 8yo #DaisyMason at 10 a.m. Will give details of sighting of possible suspect
RETWEETS 5,889
*
For the first fifteen minutes, the press conference was pretty uneventful. The usual questions, the usual non-answers. ‘Early stage of the investigation’ – ‘Doing everything possible’ – ‘Anyone with information’. You know the drill. The audience was edgy – knowing this could be big, but lacking an angle and going in circles. The possible sighting had provoked a momentary flurry, but without either a photo or a description it wasn’t adding up to much. One of the usual suspects tried to elbow herself into the limelight with a pretty crass attempt to make it personal (‘DI Fawley, are you really the appropriate officer to lead a child abduction investigation?’), but everyone else steered clear. I was checking my watch – they’d just about had their allotted quarter of an hour – when someone at the back got up. Looked about seventeen. Sandy hair, pasty skin rapidly going very red as everyone turned to look at him. Not from one of the nationals, I knew that. Probably some intern for the local not-much-more-than-ad-sheet. But I underestimated him, and I should have known better.
‘DI Fawley, can you confirm that you found an item of clothing near the scene that may belong to Daisy? Is that true?’
It was as if the air had been electrified. Two dozen people suddenly fizzing with attention.
I hesitated. Which is, of course, always fatal.
There were hands in the air now, the sound of furious tapping at tablet screens. Six or seven people were trying to cut in, but Pastyface was standing his ground. In both senses.
I noted, in the nanosecond it took me to reply, that he deliberately hadn’t detailed exactly what we’d found. But it’s not because he doesn’t know. It’s because he wants to keep that bit of the scoop to himself.
I took a deep breath. ‘Yes, that is true.’
‘And this – item – was covered in blood?’
I opened my mouth to reply, to set him straight, but it was too late. The room was in an uproar.
*
At 10.15 DC Andrew Baxter sets up a flip chart at the front of the church hall on the Banbury Road that’s been commandeered for the search teams, and props up a large-size map of North Oxford. The immediate area has been covered, and with the number of locals turning up and phoning in, asking if they can help, the next phase needs proper organization.