The roads are nearly empty and, though it is largely country lanes between the two places, having someone else in the passenger seat makes everything feel more comfortable.
It’s now been four full days since Tyler was last seen and I can’t remember if this is the same length of time as the previous occasions when he disappeared. The last time was between Christmas and new year. He and Olivia had gone to the Red Lion at lunchtime and ended up having a row over something of which I’m not sure. I only know that much because I went to school with one of the barmaids and saw her in town a few days later. Tyler stormed out, flinging a pint glass into the wall as he went – and that was the last anyone saw of him until after Boxing Day. He was definitely back before new year but I wouldn’t be sure of the actual day. All I saw of it was that Olivia was upset for a couple of days and then the clouds lifted and there were rainbows and unicorns once more.
I do worry about her mood swings, not to mention her infatuation with a young man who thinks throwing pint glasses in a pub is perfectly acceptable. That’s not to mention the time he went off with another girl, or the multiple occasions he’s been arrested for shoplifting. But what is there to do? If I tried to stop her seeing him, she’d rebel even more. And she’s eighteen anyway. My mother used to use the ‘not under my roof’-stuff on me and it only made me spend more time outside with Ellie, Wayne and Jason.
Look where that led.
Olivia hasn’t spoken for almost fifteen minutes. Her head is pressed against the glass of the side window. I suspect she’s dozed off, though, when I glance sideways, her eyes are open.
‘I know you miss him, love.’
Her only response is a deep breath through her nose.
‘Is there anything else I can do?’
‘No. This is good.’
She sounds so pained that it hurts me. I want her to be small enough that I can pick her up, wrap her in a blanket and hold her tight to me.
There’s a little more silence and then: ‘I’ve set up a Facebook page.’
Olivia speaks so softly that I can barely hear her over the warm air being spewed from the vents.
‘That’ll do some good,’ I reply, not really knowing what I’m talking about.
‘It’s called Find Tyler. There are some pictures of him, plus I’ve put down some of the places he used to go. That sort of thing. Some of his friends have shared it.’
It’s a fine line between encouragement and being patronising, so I offer what I hope is a reassuring ‘mmm’, rather than overdoing it.
Olivia doesn’t add anything to that, not speaking again until the Bashington block of flats is in sight. Despite the town’s commendations for its attractiveness, this part is an ugly stain on the area. It’s a ten-storey pebble-dashed mistake which the council have been talking about knocking down almost since it was built. Olivia directs me to a darkened car park and asks if I’ll wait. There are no street lights, only a pair of skips and a line of overgrown trees that flail imposingly against the night sky. I’d rather go with her but don’t have much of a choice. She disappears into the shadows, heading in the vague direction of the tower and I know that I don’t approve of all this.
In essence, my daughter – my teenage daughter – hangs around with dodgy people in dodgy areas. Does that make me a bad mother for knowing about it and not stopping it; or would it make me a bad mother for trying to stop it and only succeeding in causing arguments that make Olivia want to move out? She could end up living somewhere like here. For now, at least there’s some degree of knowing she’s safe. She generally does let either Dan or me know if she’s staying out but, most times, she sleeps in her own bed anyway.
The block of flats is largely in darkness, with only a handful of lights glimmering through curtains or around the gaps in blinds. From the outside, it doesn’t look as if too many people live here. I’ve not been this close before – but it’s hard to miss the blight when driving through.
I wait in the dark for a little over ten minutes before Olivia hurries back from the shadows. She’s hugging her arms across her front, shivering from the chill as she slips back into the car and closes the door with a slam. A puff of breath disappears into the warming air.
There’s little point in asking if she found anything because her features are taut, her gaze distant.
‘Do you want me to take you somewhere else?’ I ask.
She replies breathlessly. It’s hard to know for certain, but I think she mentions someone named ‘Peggy’ – and then directs me through the roads of Bashington until asking me to stop outside a row of housing association apartments. It’s an improvement on the tower block but not by much. The long terrace is grubby with years of neglect. Moss is growing between the tiles that are attached to the facias around the upper windows and there are scorch marks on the muddied lawn at the front.
Olivia opens her door, mutters that she’ll be right back, and then disappears into a walkway between two terraced buildings.
A dog is barking somewhere in the distance and there is so much shadow that it’s hard to see much more than the outline of the buildings. It’s chilled enough that my knuckles are starting to stiffen without the heat from the vents.
Olivia returns after another ten minutes or so, her face grim. ‘There’s a play park round the corner,’ she says. ‘Can we check there?’
Her definition of ‘round the corner’ isn’t literal and she directs me another half-mile or so through the estate until we arrive at a small playground on a patch of green next to a pub. It’s a much nicer area of town, all yummy-mummies and 4x4s in the car park during the day. Olivia first checks the pub and then I spot her emerging from the door at the back. She traces the outline of the park and then sits on the swings, making a phone call before heading back into the pub and re-emerging from the front door. It’s clear she thinks I didn’t see her, so I don’t bring it up.
‘Where now?’ I ask, but I get a long, mournful sigh in response.
‘Can we go for food?’ Olivia replies.
It’s half past ten, past my bedtime, let alone time to eat – but this is the first thing we’ve done in a long time where it’s been only the two of us.
‘Where would you like to go?’
‘McDonald’s.’
A hint of a smile creeps onto Olivia’s face. She bites her lip as if trying to force it back but it’s too late. I’ve already seen it.
North Melbury is a relatively sleepy area – but there’s a service station a little further up the dual carriageway that’s open all day. Aside from The Cosmic, it’s one of the few places for miles that’s open late.
I set off without complaint and we have something approaching a normal conversation. It skirts all our issues, of course. Neither of us mention the impending separation and, for a few moments at least, Tyler is forgotten as well. We talk about her work and she tells me some funny stories about Rahul and her colleagues. She tells me what Ellie already has – that she’s looking at possible college courses for next year. It’s good to hear it from her. I don’t mention that Ellie had already said something.
There’s a small queue at the McDonald’s drive-thru but that only extends the time I get to spend talking to my daughter as an equal. It’s a glimpse of the relationship we could have. I miss her being that little girl I could smother with a blanket – but I look forward to the things she’s going to do in the future. They’re all parts of the same whole.
She orders two double cheeseburgers, large fries and a chocolate milkshake, plus asks for sweet chilli sauce on the side. I pay, obviously, and then any doubts she might be under-eating are shredded completely as she spends the journey home munching her way through the bag of food.
It’s nearing half past eleven when I pull into the garage and park. Olivia has finished her food and is busy cleaning her fingers on a wedge of napkins.
She touches my arm before I can get out of the car, gripping me firmly until I turn to her.
‘Thank you,’ she says.