The photographer raised his camera. In contrast to the journalist’s chic appearance, he looked as if he’d slept in his baggy cords and jacket.
‘I can always get a statement from the press office,’ she said. ‘But if you talk to me, you can make a direct appeal to Constance. I believe you’ve a special relationship with your niece.’
She took a step backwards, as if inviting Karl to challenge this statement, and slid her tongue over her teeth again. Was it a nervous gesture, he wondered, though nothing suggested she was uneasy about arriving unannounced on the doorstep.
‘No comment.’ He stepped back and prepared to close the door. The photographer was already retreating, walking backwards towards the gate, his camera clicking.
‘Who was that woman?’ Jenna came into the hall.
‘A journalist from Capital Eye.’
‘Oh, Jesus!’ Jenna banged her fist against her mouth. ‘Not that rag. What did you say to her?’
‘Nothing.’
‘What does she know?’
‘Just that Constance is missing.’
‘Missing.’ Jenna gasped, as if the word had punctured her lungs. ‘Yes, she’s missing. She hasn’t run away. She’s been taken—’
He pulled her into his arms. ‘Stop it, Jenna. Thinking like that will weaken us. We have to stay focused and concentrate on the most likely explanation. Constance is upset. She’s gone off somewhere to sort herself out. It’s only a matter of time before she comes back to us.’
How long before such platitudes stopped comforting her, he wondered? Even now, they had a hollow ring, but Jenna relaxed against him as if his assurances gave her a brief relief.
By evening time, a search base had been established in the Glenmoore Community Centre. Women offered to make sandwiches, soup, tea. It seemed to happen effortlessly, as if there was a prior plan, ready to handle such emergencies. Yet, it made sense. There was always a plan. Even in the midst of war, the recovery strategy was being quietly mapped out. Karl’s stomach clenched in a spasm of nausea. He hadn’t eaten all day. No wonder he was feeling weak. He leaned against the wall until the nausea passed and he was able to join the volunteers. He drove slowly through the housing estates surrounding Glenmoore Village. Some were recently built but others, like his childhood home on High Strand Crescent, were part of old Glenmoore before it became a built-up suburb. Twilight was settling by the time he returned to the search centre. The emotions of the day – the apprehension, false optimism, dread, disbelief and conviction that Constance was just around each corner, beyond each hill – hung over the centre as the volunteers made arrangements to meet again tomorrow.
Chapter Three
Nicole was preparing their evening meal when Karl entered the kitchen. She swirled pasta in a saucepan of boiling water, a Bolognese sauce bubbling on the hob. The smell of garlic and tomatoes added normality to an abnormal situation but her anger was obvious when she faced him.
‘Jenna told me about that beach party,’ she said. ‘I can’t believe you never told me about it.’
‘It was a stupid thing to do,’ he admitted. ‘I never thought—’
‘It was more than stupid,’ she interrupted him curtly. ‘It was highly irresponsible. Constance could be mixed up in some hare-brained challenge that would never have happened if her parents had known what was going on.’
Her anger strengthened the images in his head. He imagined Constance spraying graffiti inside a railway tunnel, a train coming fast along the tracks. She could have drunk too much vodka and choked on her own vomit. What if she had jumped from an apartment balcony because someone had challenged her to try magic mushrooms? All his fault… all his fault…
‘I made a stupid decision and I’ve been beating myself up over it all day,’ he snapped. ‘So can we just leave it… please.’
‘Keep your voice down.’ She turned back to the cooker. ‘Lara and Matthew are sleeping here tonight. They’re edgy enough as it is. I don’t want you upsetting them any further. Tell them dinner’s ready.’
The girls were playing with Sasha’s collection of dolls in the living-room. Lara was a year younger than her cousin, four on her next birthday, but they looked as alike as twins, wispy blonde hair and fringes, blue eyes, pert noses, the same smattering of freckles on their cheeks.
‘I’m not hungry.’ Lara’s bottom lip quivered when she looked up from their play.
‘You have to eat something,’ said Karl. ‘There’s ice cream afterwards. Where’s Matthew?’
‘In the back garden,’ Sasha said.
‘Okay. I’d better go call him. You two scoot to the bathroom and wash your hands.’
Matthew was sitting motionless on Sasha’s swing, his toes scuffing the grass.
‘Hey, dude, you hungry?’ Karl pushed the swing forward but Matthew stopped it with his heels.
‘Do you think Constance is coming back?’ he asked.
‘Of course she is.’
‘She’s such a crybaby.’
‘She was upset last night. But she’ll be home soon.’
‘She never wants to live with us again.’
‘That was just angry talk, Matthew. Come on inside. Dinner’s ready.’
Nicole kept up a cheerful patter throughout the meal but avoided looking at Karl. Justin and Jenna arrived to say goodnight to the children, their voices strained when they reassured them all would be well tomorrow. Their house had been searched by the police for clues but they found nothing that could shed light on Constance’s whereabouts.
Justin gestured at Karl to join him in the kitchen. ‘You were specifically asked not to talk to the press,’ he said.
‘I haven’t spoken to them.’
‘How do you explain this, then?’ He handed Karl a copy of Capital Eye.
Karl shook out the front page of the tabloid and stared at the picture of Constance. A slightly blurry image that looked as if it had been lifted from Instagram or Facebook. The photograph that had been taken of Karl earlier at Justin’s front door was positioned in the centre of the report. His stance looked aggressive, his expression belligerent.
Local girl missing from Glenmoore
Amanda Bowe