Declan doesn’t seem to know what to do. He steps forward and then back, pivoting and turning to the side, glancing towards the exposed wires on the wall. His teeth are clenched and I can almost see the cogs whirring in his mind as he tries to figure out the best thing to do.
‘I thought you’d quit.’
‘Who says I didn’t?’
‘So why should you care if I withdraw the complaint?’
‘Because I do care. Because it’s my reputation and I’ve worked with those people for a long time. Because the way people see me is more important than you getting a few quid.’
He glances past me, through the window towards the car park. I check over my shoulder but there’s no one there. When I turn back, he’s taken a stride towards me. For the first time since I got here, there’s a flicker of fear. Declan is bigger than me, stronger, and we’re on our own. This part of the trading estate is new and empty. Anything could happen.
‘If I make the call, what then?’ he asks.
‘What do you mean?’
‘What happens to me?’
‘Nothing happens to you. That’s the end of it.’
His nose twitches as if there’s a bad smell in the room. ‘What do you want me to say?’
‘That you’ve thought things over and that you think there was a misunderstanding. No harm done but you think it’s best for all involved if you do business elsewhere.’
He’s thinking it over. I’m in a hole but he could be, too. I don’t actually have his girlfriend’s phone number; all I have is a name. There are photos of Declan and Nicole across Facebook. He’s not willing to take the chance.
‘Fine,’ he replies. ‘I’ll do it now.’
I listen as he does precisely that. It’s a short, awkward phone call. I can’t hear Graham’s half of the conversation but I can imagine him joining some dots back in the office. Declan has to repeat the ‘misunderstanding’ line three times and I suspect it’s clear to all involved that ‘misunderstanding’ is a poorly concealed version of ‘made it up’.
By the time Declan ends the call, I already have the door open. He shouts after me, asking if the deal’s still on. I don’t reply. This tawdry deal is on, seeing as I couldn’t call Nicole even if I wanted to.
I’m back in the driver’s seat when my phone rings. It’s Graham, perhaps ready to apologise without actually having to apologise. He’s not one for admitting mistakes, so he’ll phrase it in a way that makes it sound like he’s a victim somehow. He might even go for the ‘misunderstanding’ line as well. I should probably take the call and tell him I quit, that I’ll find another job somewhere. Perhaps the guilt will kick in and he’ll offer me the pay rise I very much don’t deserve.
I ignore the call anyway and it goes into the missed calls list along with the two from Ellie. I press to return her call and Ellie answers on the second ring.
‘I was starting to worry,’ she says without a hint of hello. She sounds rushed.
‘What’s wrong?’ I reply.
‘Did Liv call you?’
‘No.’
It’s only the length of time it takes to breathe but there’s a pause from the other end of the line. In that moment, my chest tightens and it feels like I can’t get all the air I need.
‘She ran off halfway through accounting class,’ Ellie says.
‘Why?’
‘She got a call from Tyler and said she had to go meet him.’
Chapter Forty-Four
I stumble over my words because so many thoughts collide at once. Tyler’s back? Olivia’s gone? Is she in danger?
‘Did you hear me?’ Ellie asks.
‘Yeah… I… when did she leave?’
‘About a minute before I called you the first time.’
That was a good fifteen minutes ago, when I was busy with Declan. I should’ve answered the damn phone.
‘Where did she go?’
‘Well that’s the weird part?’
‘What is?’
Ellie sounds unsure of herself. ‘She said she was going to the watermill.’
‘The mill? Why?’
‘I don’t know. She was speaking really quickly. I was trying to keep up. I offered her a lift but she was already half out the door. She didn’t look like she was thinking straight. I think she was going to call a taxi. I don’t know.’
Ellie doesn’t have anything else to add but that’s not surprising considering it sounds like everything happened in a matter of seconds.
I hang up and try calling Olivia. There’s no reply, so I leave a message asking her to call, and then phone her again. Still no answer, so I text, telling her to please call.
If she was getting a taxi, she’d be at the mill in a matter of minutes. If only I’d answered my phone.
I think about calling Dan – she is his daughter too – but he’ll be at school and, besides, I don’t trust him.
Who do I trust? When the confusion and obfuscation is shunted away, is there anyone I have faith in? Maybe.
I race away from the trading estate, trying to think if there’s a quicker way to get to the mill. The very fact it’s on a river means there isn’t. There are bridges a few miles up and downstream on either side – and then one road in and out. The only way to get there is the long way.
The alleged voice assistant on my phone seems to have had a meltdown because, whenever I say ‘Call Olivia’, the voice chirps back ‘Did you say, “All you live here”?’. I give up after the third attempt and try something else.
It takes me almost forty minutes until I bump across the dried mud on the road and pull into the empty weed-ridden expanse of tarmac that was once a car park. A taxi might have dropped Olivia off, but there are no vehicles parked here now.
The breeze has whipped up a light mix of dust and dirt that flits across the crumbling lot at ankle-height. I try calling Olivia once more, without the useless voice assistant this time, but there’s no answer. I try Ellie to let her know where I am but she isn’t answering either.
I follow the once familiar trail into the woods, heading towards the rush of the river and then tracing the route towards the mill. When we were young, this route had been walked bare. It was dry and dusty in the summer, like walking on concrete. Ellie, Wayne, Jason and I didn’t visit as much in winter, partly because the mud could reach knee-height in places but also because the mill itself was so cold. There was never any heating and a lot of the joy was lost when we’d have to traipse out here in coats, scarves and wellington boots. That’s not to say we never came. If ever it snowed, we’d meet on the street and then race here to build snowmen, hurl snowballs, and try to walk across the semi-frozen river. This area felt like more of a home than our respective houses ever did. We grew up here as a foursome. Sometimes we’d allow others into our circle but they never lasted long. It was always us four against the world.
Then there were three and then two.
I get to the fence surrounding the mill and stop, looking for anything out of the ordinary. I’m not sure what I was expecting but there is no sign of Olivia or Tyler. The fence is taller than me and much of it is covered with the bright ‘keep out’ signs that only ever serve as an invitation to see what’s beyond. The rest of the fence is made up of tight rings of thick metal, which makes it easy enough to see what’s on the other side – not that there’s much. The mill is a run-down shell of its former self. Weeds and plants have started to grow around the base and the window frames, climbing and entwining into the rotting wood and brickwork.
‘Liv?’
Her name echoes around the empty space, bouncing from the trees and mill until it sounds like there are half a dozen people calling her name.
There’s no reply.
I phone Ellie again, wanting to double-check she was definitely right about the mill. Could Olivia have said something else that sounds like it? She was off to a hill, or something like that?
No answer.