Disappeared: MANTEQUERO BOOK 2 (5 page)

“Look,” Alison interrupted, “we
do
know that. It’s entirely out of character for her to let anyone down. She’s a
school teacher
for God’s sake. Teachers can’t just up sticks when they feel like it. If she had
decided
not to return she would have let people know. She would have come back to work her notice. SHE WOULD NOT HAVE JUST DISAPPEARED!” She realised she was shouting and her face was hot.

“And what about the information from my friend in Spain,” Heather added, in an ice-cold voice. “And the fact that the house she stayed in has been taken off the books. And the car being returned on the wrong day, probably by someone else. There’s enough there to warrant
further investigation, surely?”
The policeman sighed and cast his eyes heavenwards. Alison wanted to hit him.

“Look, if you insist, you can fill in a missing person report, but I doubt very much whether there’s very much we can do.”

“Of course there is,” Alison muttered, as she pulled the form towards her. “You can get the Spanish police involved. Interpol even.”

Heather nudged her, the gesture clearly conveying there was no point.
Grumbling, Alison began to fill in the form.

****

The next day she felt oddly adrift. She seemed to have done all she could and was now left with nothing to do but wait. She wasn’t very good at waiting.

When she left at four o’clock, for the first time that week without some urgent Miss Blacker-related task, she saw Patsy once again waiting by the gate. She cast her mind back and had the distinct impression that the child had been there every single day,  but this was the first time she had had time to stop and talk to her.

“Patsy?” The child looked up, her eyes were puffy and red-rimmed as if she’d been doing a lot of crying recently. “Oh, hello, Miss Metcalfe.” She attempted a not very convincing smile.

Alison bent down to get to her level. “Are you OK? Are you waiting for your mummy?”

Ignoring the question, Patsy suddenly burst into tears. “She’s not coming back, is she? My Auntie June. She’s never coming back and it’s all Mummy’s fault.”

“What?”

“My Mummy. She upset my Auntie June so much that she doesn’t want to come back – ever.”

“What did your mummy do?”
Patsy hiccupped. “It was at my birthday party. Everything was going really well until Mummy said that Granny was getting a bit frail and it was time Auntie June moved in to look after her. And Auntie June said, ‘Out of the question,’ and said she was going away for Christmas with a friend and then she flounced out.” Patsy managed a half-hearted smile. “Mummy and my other aunties just sat and stared with their mouths open.” The smile vanished. “And then they spent
hours
saying
horrible
things about Auntie June. It made me feel sick.”

Alison put down her briefcase and sat on the wall next to Patsy. “So your mummy expects Auntie June to move in with your granny and look after her full-time?”
Patsy nodded. “Oh yes, she had it all arranged. Auntie June’s the only one who isn’t married, you see. It would be very
convenient
for the rest of them if she did it. Nobody else would have to make an effort.” She looked up at the sky, squinting as if the watery winter sun was too bright. “Sometimes I
hate
my Mummy.”

“You mustn’t say that. I’m sure she’s just trying to do what’s best for everyone.”

“Everyone except Auntie June,” Patsy muttered darkly.

“Anyway,” Alison said with a brightness that seemed brittle, even to her, “are you waiting for her to pick you up?”
“Yes, but she’s probably forgotten again.”

“What?” Alison was aghast.

“Auntie June usually takes me home, you see. We go to her house for tea and then she drops me off at home after.” She began to sob again. “Of course, on Monday it wasn’t Mummy’s fault. She didn’t know Auntie June hadn’t come back.”

“But-” Alison began, then stopped herself. Patsy was looking at her narrowly. “-er,
I just thought she might have checked.”
She must have known. Miss Wetherspoon rang her.

“You know something, don’t you?”

The child was too clever by half. “Her next-door neighbour rang your mummy to say your Auntie June hadn’t returned and ask if she knew why.”

“Oh, Mummy wouldn’t have taken any notice of that,” Patsy said. “She only believes things that suit her.”

Good God,
Alison thought.
The poor child.

“Look, would you like me to take you home? We could ring your mummy and tell her.” Patsy broke into a beaming smile. “Would you? I’d love that. I don’t like walking back on my own. I’m a bit worried about the paedophiles.”

Taken aback by the child’s precocious vocabulary, Alison hid her amusement and bent down for her briefcase to extract her phone. And yes, there was the piece of paper on which she’d made a note of Miss Wetherspoon’s number, Ruth’s and that of the vet.

****

Ruth Owen was nothing like Alison had imagined. She came to the door looking flustered but none-the-less perfectly-groomed and manicured, her clothes hanging elegantly on her slender form, her hair cut in the latest style.

“Oh thank you, so much, I don’t know what I’d have done if you hadn’t rung. I thought my friend was picking her up.”

I bet you did,
thought Alison.

“Come in, Sweetie. I’ll make your tea in a minute.”

Patsy went in and started up the stairs, casting a look over her shoulder that said volumes.

“Well, right, I’ll be off then.” Half-way down the path, Alison hesitated and looked back. Ruth Owen was still standing in the doorway smiling her vacuous smile.

“I could drop her off every night, if you like. It’s on my way home anyway.”

“Oh,
would
you?” Ruth’s smile became a tad more genuine. “I’d be
so
grateful.” She waved her hands about in a brief, meaningless gesture. “I’m so busy, you know, what with . . .”

She tailed off, aware that Alison wasn’t really listening.

“Well, thank you.” And she went inside and closed the door.

I could be anybody,
Alison thought.
She didn’t ask for any identification. She’s just entrusted her child to a complete stranger! What a waste of space!

****

“What I don’t understand is why she didn’t send me another postcard,  just to tell me she wasn’t coming back.”

Alison and Patsy were sitting on the wall by the school gate, Patsy idly swinging her legs against the brick-work.

“Maybe she was ashamed.” Alison dived into her briefcase and fetched out her emergency bar of chocolate. This seemed as good an emergency as any. “Here, have half.”

“Thank you.” Patsy began eating the chocolate with a singleness of purpose that suggested that Alison had successfully diverted her attention. Then, “Why should she be ashamed? Nobody’s going to blame her.”

“She might blame herself,” Alison said. “She might think she wasn’t brave enough to deal with it. That she should have stayed for your sake. Oh, I don’t know. Maybe she thought it
really
was
her job to look after your granny.”
“Yes, I suppose so,” Patsy said, finishing the last of the chocolate and carefully inspecting the wrapper and her fingers for any bits she may have missed. “I’d just have liked to have known, though. If I just knew what had happened and where she was so I could write to her.”

“Will your mummy mind if you’re a little bit late?” Alison said, standing up and bending for her briefcase.

“I doubt if she’d even notice.” Alison was captivated by the child’s adult turn of phrase.
Such a sweetie!

“Then let’s go to my place and play with Jessica.”

Patsy’s face lit up in a beaming smile. “You’ve got Jessica? I was so worried about her being on her own.”

“Sorry, I should have told you before. I brought her home on Monday. She was so lonely in the cottage.” Alison permitted herself a small smile. “Your Auntie June’s going to have to fight for her when she gets back. None of us want to give her up.”

Patsy grinned and jumped down from the wall.

III

“I want to go and see for myself.” Alison leant forward across the counter. “Can you book me a holiday in the same place?”
Heather looked worried. “You’re a teacher. You can’t just go haring off to Spain. You’ll get the sack!”
Alison smiled. “I didn’t mean straight away. Half term.”

Heather raised her eyebrows, “I thought it was urgent.”
“I thought so too, but I can’t risk my job. And anyway, I don’t think it’s so urgent anymore.”

Heather continued to look questioningly at her.

“She had a reason.” Alison went on. “A reason for not coming back. It seems her
sisters
,” she said the word through gritted teeth, “had decided that she was going to become full-time carer for their mother. That’s why she went to Spain in the first place – to avoid committing herself for Christmas. I can well imagine that at the last minute, when it was time to go home, she just baulked and decided to stay.”

“Not quite Shirley Valentine,” Heather murmured, “but not far off. When do you want to go then?”

Alison got out her school diary. “Half term’s from the tenth to the nineteenth.”

“Inclusive?”
“No, sorry. We go back on the nineteenth. So, as much as I can get of the nine days.”
Heather looked at her screen and started tapping on her keyboard. “I see no reason why you couldn’t have the whole nine days,” she said. “Leave it with me and I’ll put a package together.”

“How much is it going to cost?” Alison asked, thinking of her precious savings.

“Not a lot. Not in February.” Heather paused. “Can you drive?”

“Yes, I passed my test last year. My dad bought me lessons for my birthday and I passed first time,” she said, with ill-concealed pride.

Heather smiled at her. “Well done. It took me three goes. So, let’s see – you’ve had your licence for a year?”

Alison stirred uncomfortably on the plastic chair. “Well, about eight months actually.”

“And how old are you?”                                                                                                                                                                               

“Twenty-three.”

“I think the only thing that’s likely to be expensive is the hire car. A lot of companies won’t rent to drivers under the age of twenty-five because the insurance is so high. But I’ll ring round and see what I can do. Can you -”

“Come back after work?” Alison finished for her. “Of course.”

She picked up her briefcase and began to walk out.

“Alison?”
She turned back.

“Are you sure about this? There’s still all the other stuff we were worried about. It might be dangerous.”
Alison swallowed. She was actually feeling rather nervous about the whole thing, but she felt she couldn’t get on with her life until she’d found out what had happened to Miss Blacker. And then there was the child, Patsy, to consider. She had promised her she would do her best to find out and she could see no other way to do it. “Yes,” she said. “I’m sure.”

****

“OK,” Heather pushed a print-out across the counter. “Here you are. Flight out tenth of February, leaving Gatwick at ten-oh-five, arriving Malaga thirteen fifty-five.

Car hire from Cargest- they’re the only ones who’ll accept a driver under 25. Couldn’t get the same house, of course. In fact, when I spoke to Sofia, she said
all
the houses in the village had been withdrawn, but then she came back with a new one - owned by an Englishwoman. It’s only two streets away from where June stayed. Bigger place, though - two bedrooms. And centrally-heated. She says she’s not been to check it out yet, but I can make a provisional booking and she’ll confirm when she’s been up to see it. Whole thing about six hundred pounds.”

Alison winced. It was more than she’d spent on holidays in her whole life.

Heather looked embarrassed. “I can get a cheaper flight if you don’t mind leaving at seven in the morning. But we’re only looking at about fifteen quid difference. The problem is the car hire. It’s nearly twice as much as I could get it from Paco Sanchez, but he won’t take under 25 drivers. And then the house. The only one available is much bigger than you need and a very high spec.”

Alison stared miserably at the figures. She had the money, but it would take almost all her savings. Did she care that much about finding out what happened?

“I’ve got an alternative, though, if you’d consider it.”
Alison looked up eagerly.
“We could go together. I’m over twenty-five, with ten years’ driving experience. We could share car hire and the rent. And –” here she paused for effect. “I get everything at a discount anyway.”

“How much?” Alison asked, actually rather liking the idea of going with Heather. She had been worried about going on her own.

Heather took a deep breath, “Two hundred and fifteen pounds,”

“Good grief! It’s unbelievable! But are you sure you want to do this?”

“She’s my friend too,” Heather said. “I care about what happened to her. But I couldn’t find out anything on my own. I don’t speak Spanish.”

****

The hire car wound its way up the narrow mountain road and Alison sat in a state of terror, occasionally looking past Heather at the terrifying drop below. There were barriers along the road, but they were placed haphazardly and it seemed mandatory that there was never a barrier at a particularly dangerous place – a steep bend, for instance, where if you were distracted for a second you could go straight ahead and plunge into the abyss.

Heather seemed entirely unaffected by this and chatted away, apparently unaware that Alison’s responses were monosyllabic or non-existent.

By the time they reached Orgiva, Alison was a gibbering wreck. She’d never been afraid of heights before, but now, as if to make up for all those carefree years, fear had her firmly in its grip. She couldn’t get out of the car. Her legs simply refused to respond. Heather, finally aware that her passenger was not behaving as expected, came round to her side of the car and hauled her out.

“Right,” she said, “we’ll soon deal with this. Sit here.” And she plonked Alison at a café table and marched into the bar. Alison sat at the table, staring out at the mountains, feeling oddly disorientated.

A few moments later Heather returned with two large glasses. “Here, drink this,” she said, placing one in Alison’s hand. Alison didn’t even enquire what was in the glass, but drank it all down in one gulp, then handed the empty glass to Heather. “Right,” said Heather, who hadn’t even tasted her own drink, and marched back into the bar.

Alison was rather more circumspect with the second glass and only drank half before demanding to know what it was.

“Gin and tonic,” said Heather.

“What, in a glass that size?” Alison looked at her glass, which was surely not much smaller than a half pint pot.

“Well, there’s a lot of ice and tonic.”

“Yeah, right,” said Alison, knocking back the rest.

There was a tall, thin man making his way up the street and Heather stood up to wave enthusiastically in his direction. “Must be Johan,” she said to Alison. “He doesn’t look at all Spanish, does he?”
“Haven’t you met him before?” asked Alison, surprised.

“No. I’ve just dealt with him on the phone and emails, but I feel like I’ve known him all my life.”

The man’s face broke into a broad grin when he saw them, and he quickened his pace. Heather was right, he didn’t look Spanish. His hair was greying, but had clearly once been fair, and there was an entirely un-Spanish purposefulness to his stride.

“Hello,” he said, grabbing Heather by the shoulders and kissing her on both cheeks. “So, we meet at last. And this,” he turned to smile at Alison, “must be your schoolteacher friend.” Alison found herself completely unable to stand and so remained seated helplessly as he bent over and kissed her.

“Sorry about Alison,” Heather said. “She suddenly discovered she was afraid of heights and I had to give her a bit of Dutch courage.” She winked at Johan. “If you’ll excuse the phrase.”

She looked back at her friend. “I think I may have overdone it a bit.”

“Nonsense,” said Johan. “The more the better. Then she won’t notice the heights on the way up to Caserones.” He leant over and whispered. “The road up there is much worse.”

Heather giggled like a schoolgirl. “So, what can I get you?”

“I think I’d better just have a glass of lemonade, since I’m driving. Alison’s already had two double gins, so maybe she’d better have the same.”

Johan grinned. “How about we compromise and make it two tinto de veranos?”

Later, all three supplied with drinks and seated round the table, he filled them in on what he’d found out so far. “Definitely no reports of any disappearance or suspicious circumstances to the local police. I have a mate in the policia local and he’s made discreet enquiries.
I went up to Caserones again during the day a few days ago and all is quiet and apparently normal, but I still had that feeling of being watched. It felt like -” He broke off.
“My parents were in Amsterdam during the war, under Nazi occupation, and they said that everything looked normal but the people lived in constant fear – not just of the Nazis, but of their own friends and neighbours. You had to watch what you said all the time, in case someone reported you to the Germans. People only ventured out when they had to and then they hurried home, looking over their shoulders. At night they slept badly, waiting for the knock on the door.”  He looked up at the sky, his eyes crinkling against the bright sunlight. “I didn’t expect to get that same feeling in a little Spanish mountain village.” He looked down again at his hands grasping a huge litre pot of beer, then picked it up and drank the contents in one go. “But that’s how it felt. They were all waiting for the knock on the door.”

He gave the two young women a watery smile. “You are determined to do this?” Both nodded. “Then I would warn you to be careful. Whatever it is they are afraid of, take it seriously. Your friend disappeared and we don’t know why.” He called to the waiter to refill their glasses, then bent forward so their heads were all close together over the table. “I have a
chalet ready for you at my place. If there is any trouble,
anything at all,
don’t hesitate. Come straight to me.” He pulled a piece of paper out of his pocket. “Here are the directions and my telephone number. You are in number eight, OK?”

Alison’s eyes filled with tears. “You are very kind, Johan,” she said, struggling to keep her voice under control. Her lips seemed to have gone numb.

Heather took the paper and gripped Johan’s hand.

“You’re a good friend, Johan,” she said.

****

Alison slept for the entire journey and was still asleep when Heather pulled up beside a very large house, right at the very top of the village. She got out and looked back down the way they had come. The road had indeed been considerably worse than the main road up. There were no barriers at all and the tarmac was cracked and patched up with concrete here and                                            there. The village itself had cobbled streets, mostly too narrow to admit a car, and she had had to follow the agent’s directions very carefully to find the way through. Even so, she misgave in a couple of places, convinced the car was wider than the street. But she had made it and felt rather pleased with herself as she walked up to a heavy wooden door and knocked.

A small, frail woman with wispy hair and a worried expression came to the door and smiled tentatively when she saw Heather. “Miss Jones?”

Heather nodded and smiled. “And that’s Miss Metcalfe in the car. She fell asleep on the way. She has a very tiring job.” Behind her back, Heather had her fingers tightly crossed, hoping Alison wouldn’t wake up and make it obvious she was drunk before she got rid of the landlady.

“The house is next door, here. It was all one, but I had this part converted to a separate house and if the rental thing works out, I can do at least one more. It’s an enormous house.”

Luckily, the woman didn’t take long to show Heather round and then she shook hands and said, “I’ll have to go now. I’ve got a lot to do. But I’m right next door if you need me.”

With a sigh of relief, Heather headed back to the car, checked that the landlady was safely back behind her huge door, and went to get Alison into the house.
“Wha - what?” Alison looked around her, completely confused. “Shush,” Heather said. “Just get in the house and I’ll sort everything out.”

Once inside, she handed Alison two ibuprofen tablets and a pint of water and said, “Here, take these. And drink the water – all of it. I’ll make you something to eat.”
“I’m not hungry,” Alison mumbled.

“I don’t care,” Heather said. “You must eat something or you’ll feel like hell when you wake up.”
“Wake up?”
“Yes. You’re going to eat this and then you’re going to have a siesta before we go out on the town.”

Alison looked at the huge baguette that Heather had placed in front of her, along with about two pounds of cheese and some spreadable margarine.
“I couldn’t get butter,” Heather explained. “It was margarine or nothing.”