Our Father Who Are Out There...Somewhere (27 page)

Fiona waves a hand but doesn’t look up from her duties. Lily slips from the room. Half an hour later she hears a scream.

“What’s up?”

Jo is red-faced and crying with pain. “It can’t be supposed to be this hard.”

“What?”

“Cream. I’m trying to whip the frigging cream, my arms are on fire.”

“Jesus, I thought something was seriously wrong.”

“Something is seriously wrong,” snaps Fiona, sweat dripping from her forehead. “We’re two hours behind schedule. This sucker was supposed to be in the oven at half past two.”

Lily eyes the large turkey, “What are you doing to it?”

“I’m stuffing it,” says Fiona. “What does it look like? Only I’m not sure it’s meant to be frozen.”

“Hello,” shouts a voice from the hallway. “I’m home, how are getting on?” Stuart opens the door, his gaze sweeping the room as the smiles on his face fades. The sink is so full of washing-up; the girls have started piling dirty crockery on the floor. Vegetable peelings, spilt milk and broken egg shells festoon every surface, Fiona’s hair looks grey with flour, and a lump of pastry hangs from the ceiling.

“What have you been using this for?” Stuart asks as he points to the blender.

“Don’t ask,” Jo and Fiona shout simultaneously. Then they look at each other and laugh. Stuart takes off his coat and starts to roll up his sleeves.

“Oh,” says Fiona. “It was supposed to be a treat for you.”

“I love cooking; it is a treat for me. Just let me get some of these dishes out of the way first.” He puts on his apron, the one he wore the night he cooked for Lily. Lily’s face reddens, but in the heat of the kitchen, no one notices.

Fiona grabs a tea towel and rushes to the oven. “Shit, I mean sugar, the chocolate log.”

“You haven’t baked a Swiss roll, have you?” asks Stuart.

“No,” says Fiona, her tone suggesting she’s offended by the question. “We were defrosting it.” She opens the oven door and four faces peer inside. The chocolate cake has melted and dripped through the rungs of the shelf. It lies in a sticky heap on the oven floor.

“Ah well,” says Jo. “At least there’s trifle.”

It’s almost nine o’clock before they sit down to dinner, having pulled the small, red Formica topped table into the living room. The settee and armchairs are pushed back to the perimeter of the room, and Fiona has covered the table with silver wrapping paper.

“Would you like to pull my cracker?” Jo asks Stuart. “Oo-er, missus.”

Wearing a crooked, crêpe paper party hat, Stuart carves the turkey at the table. “This is delicious,” says Lily, already full from the prawn cocktail starter she’s just eaten. “Last Christmas we had turkey sandwiches; only they’d run out of turkey at the Spar so it was actually chicken.” 

Fiona stands up. “I’d like to propose a toast,” she says, as she sways slightly. “To my sister. The best Christmas present ever.”

Stuart and Jo stand to raise their glasses. “Speech, speech,” chants Jo.

Lily tries to rise to the occasion, pushing her chair back. She bumps the edge of the table with her hip and knocks her glass of red win over. “Shit.”

Jo and Fiona both dab at the spilt wine with red napkins. “I just want to say I love you all,” says Lily, her words slightly slurred. Stuart’s dark eyes meet her own and Lily blushes.

After dinner Fiona insists they play charades, “We have to, it’s traditional.”

“Maybe in your family,” says Lily.

Jo’s attempts to mime ‘Dirty Dancing’ have Lily laughing so much, she holds up her hand and pleads with her to stop. “I’ve got to wee.” Lily runs out of the room. When she comes down the stairs from the toilet, Stuart is waiting for her at the bottom with a bowl of crisps in his hand. He nods his head at the limp bunch of mistletoe hanging in the hall. “It’s tradition.”

Where’s the harm in one Christmas kiss? She takes two steps towards him, her head slightly tilted to one side, aiming for a light brush of his cheek with her lips. He steps forward too, so that they are closer at the point of meeting that she had anticipated. As their bodies almost collide, close enough that she can feel the heat of him through her belly, Stuart turns his head towards to her and kisses her on the mouth. His lips taste of red wine and brandy sauce and chocolate. Lily closes her eyes and doesn’t notice Fiona stepping out of the front room. The first she is aware of her presence is when Fiona coughs. Lily steps back and pushes Stuart away.

“We were under the mistletoe,” says Stuart. Fiona turns to Lily; the look of confusion on her face makes Lily want to cry. Fiona stands staring; waiting for an explanation for about five seconds, and then asks Lily, “What’s going on?”

Lily stands with her mouth open, two bright spots of crimson for cheeks, still saying nothing, so Stuart takes Fiona by the arm. “Let’s go for a walk,” he says.

 Fiona allows Stuart to take her by the elbow and guide her down the stairs, out of the flat door. The fact she doesn’t say anything all the way down the stairs, makes Lily feel scared. Stuart unhooks his black ski jacket from the banister, on their way down the stairs. They walk in silence until they reach the castle, and there Stuart sits her on a low wall and stands in front of her. As he looks into her eyes he says, “I’ve fallen in love with Lily.”

He watches the truth register on her face, and the tears build in her deep, brown eyes. He pulls her towards him, holding her head against his chest, blinking back his own tears. “I’m sorry, Fiona.” She rests her head against him, pressing her nose against its warmth, fighting back the tears. “I wish there was something I could do,” says Stuart, “to make it not hurt you.”

Then she hits him. She jumps down off the wall and hits him again, as hard as she can. He puts his arms up to stop her blows landing on his face. Running at him, she punches him so hard he steps backwards and trips over the low wall. She flings his coat on top of him and runs off into the darkness.

Stuart sits up and touches his fingers to his skull, feeling the warm wetness of his own blood. He looks behind him and sees the stone he hit his head against. Standing up, he calls for Fiona, but there is only quiet. He listens for a moment, but he can’t hear her footsteps. As he jumps back over the wall, he lands awkwardly, going over on his ankle. He starts to run, then limps down the street, unsure of which way she has gone. A number of side streets offer themselves as possibilities. “Fiona,” he shouts into the darkness, “let’s talk about it. Don’t do this.” All he can hear is the wind.

Stuart runs as best he can, his coat in his arms, back to the flat. As he rounds the corner he sees Lily is on the doorstep, the glow of a cigarette tip hovering around her like a firefly. As he passes a street lamp, Lily sees blood on Stuart’s face and she flicks her cigarette onto the floor, sparks flying.

“She ran off,” he calls as he approaches her. “I don’t know where she is.”

“Oh, God. What are we going to do?” Lily turns to Jo, who is sitting on the bottom step in the doorway to the flat, shivering in the cold.

“We’ll have to find her. Let’s try the pubs,” says Jo, as she pulls herself up from the step. She doesn’t look at Stuart. “She’s got to have gone somewhere warm.”

Without speaking, Lily and Jo climb the stairs to get their coats, and the three of them spill out onto the street, the dark December night enveloping them. Flecks of snow start to fall as they make their way through the residential area into town, the houses’ warm amber light glowing against the freezing, black backdrop.

Seven pubs later, they make their way from The Crown, towards The Crossed Keys, when Stuart spots two policemen on the other side of the road, their bright yellow coats reflecting the street lamps. Stuart nods over to them. “We’re going to have to ask for help.”

“Fuck off,” says Jo. She turns to Lily. “We can’t ask representatives of the fascist state to help us. We’ll manage...” Jo realises Stuart is already jogging across the road towards them. She starts to run after him.

“Excuse me, can you help us?” Stuart calls out.

Jo puts on a spurt of speed to catch him up. “We’ve lost our friend,” she calls out, already out of breath from her exertions. “We’ve had a bit of a row and she’s run off and we’re worried because she hasn’t got a coat.”

The older policeman rubs his greying beard, his eyes streaming in the cold night air. “How long has she been gone?” he asks.

“Over an hour,” says Stuart.

The policeman removes a black leather glove to check his watch. “Give her another couple of hours. If she’s not back by midnight, phone the station. They might put out a description.”

“She’s only fifteen,” says Jo.

“What does she look like?” asks the younger policeman, his blonde hair just visible beneath his policeman’s hat. He turns to his colleague, “We can keep an eye out for her.”

“She’s got short hair,” says Stuart, “and she’s wearing a denim skirt with black tights and a blue top, with some kind of pattern around the top.”

“Roses, it has roses round here.” Jo gesticulates to her chest.

“Ok. Well, stick together.” The blonde policeman nods towards Lily, who hovers, still on the other side of the road, then he looks at Jo. His blue eyes glint under the light of the street lamp. “You should have a hat.”

Jo touches the shaved sides of her head. “I know.”

“Give us your telephone number, then if we see her, we can let you know she’s safe,” he says. Stuart recites his number and Jo scrawls it in the policeman’s notebook; her fingertips so frozen the number covers a full page. When she’s finished, he snaps the book shut and replaces the pen. “Have you tried all the pubs?”

“That’s what we’re doing now.”

“Ok. Well good luck, and remember, call the station if she’s not back by midnight.”

Stuart and Jo cross back over the road to Lily. Stuart shakes his head and says, “We’re going to have to ring her dad.” Lily leans against the wall and closes her eyes. “She may have rung him already,” says Stuart. “Got him to pick her up. We could be looking for her all night while she’s safely tucked up in Skipton.”

Lily’s hangover is starting to form. “Oh, God.” 

“It’s not your fault,” says Jo to Lily, while looking at Stuart. She puts an arm around Lily’s shoulders.

They return to the flat and Lily finds the telephone number her grandmother gave her. She tries to hand the scrap of paper to Jo, but Jo shakes her head, “It’s got to be you, Lily.”

“It’s half past ten. What if  everyone’s asleep?”

Neither Stuart nor Jo answer, and Lily reluctantly takes the phone from Stuart’s hand. Lily’s father answers on the third ring. “Hi, er, David. It’s me, Lily. I’m fine, thank you. Um, how are you? No, it’s about Fiona. She’s not with you is she? It’s like, we had a bit of an argument and she’s run away. No. About two hours ago. It’s complicated. No. It’s just, it’s so cold. Do you think she might have gone home? I mean to her mum? Yes. Right. No, ok. Bye.”

The dial tone sounds in her ear. Lily turns to Jo and Stuart. “He’s on his way.”

Stuart kicks at the cupboard. “It will take him an hour to get here. I’m going to go and have another look for her.”

“Hang on,” says Jo, “we’ll all come.”

The weather has worsened, the fine flakes of snow have turned to icy sleet, coming at them horizontally. The town square is filled with drunken revellers, making their way to one of the two clubs in town. Men in shirt sleeves shout and push each other, while groups of women watch from the sidelines, huddled together like nesting penguins.

“Let’s split up,” says Jo. “We’ll stand a better chance of finding her, before her dad gets here. I’ll check out Woolies and round there, see if she’s curled up in a shop doorway. I’ll meet you both back at the flat in an hour.”

“I’ll go back to The Kettledrum,” says Stuart. They’ll be finished up there soon. Roy and Bill might help look for her.”

“Oh, ok,” says Lily. “Where will I go? I could try the bus station?”

Jo nods, “Good idea.”

“See you back at the flat.” Stuart jogs off, leaving Lily and Jo together.

“Will you be ok?” Jo asks as she pulls up the collar of her duffle coat. Lily nods and Jo waves as she starts towards Woolworths. Lily watches her walk a few paces and then turns in the opposite direction.

Jo only walks a few hundred yards before a voice shouts to her. “Hi there. Did you find your friend?”

Jo turns to see the policemen, still walking the beat. She shakes her head and curses the tears that prick at her eyes.

“Come on, we’ll help you look for her,” says the blonde one. He turns to his colleague, “We’ve nothing else on. Let’s try down the Shelters.”

An hour later, Lily and Stuart meet back at the flat. “There was a bus to Skipton an hour ago,” says Lily. “Maybe she was on that.”

Stuart pulls a face, rubbing his hands together to try and increase the circulation. “If she was going home,” he says, “she would have gone to her dad, not to her mum. And I’m sure she would have rung him and got him to pick her up. Unless she feels too ashamed to tell him what’s happened. Oh, God, I don’t know.” He runs his hands through his hair. “Where’s Jo?”

“Dunno,” says Lily. A second later the doorbell rings. “Maybe that’s her.”

“Still no sign?” asks David as Lily opens the front door. He’s wearing a sheepskin coat which makes him look like a shady trader from ‘Only Fools and Horses’. Lily shakes her head. He pushes past her and starts climbing the stairs. “Right then, where have you looked?”

Stuart is standing at the top of the stairs in the hall. He nods hello to David, but doesn’t make eye contact. “I’ve tried work,” he says, “and Lily’s been to the bus station. We’ve tried every pub we can think of.”

“There was a bus to Skipton,” says Lily.

“What about the hospital?” asks David.

“No,” says Stuart, “we didn’t try there. You don’t think…”

David stamps the snow from his boots. “The train station?”

Stuart shakes his head and looks at Lily.

“Taxi firms?” David asks. Silence. “McDonalds?”

“Jo might have tried there,” says Lily. “She said she was going to the high street.”

“Well, that’s ridiculous,” says David. “The last thing we need right now is people going off on their own. I need to ring the hospital. You two wait in the kitchen. You can make me a cup of tea while you’re in there.”