Silent Children (25 page)

Some seconds passed before Ian eased the door open and stepped into the hall, pushing his face forward and turning it from side to side. His expression looked uncertain what to be. Leslie was waiting for Charlotte to make her appearance as part of the game the youngsters were playing when Ian began to inch the door shut. "Don't do that," she said.

His arm jerked, the door slammed, and she saw he had been too preoccupied to notice her. As he raised his face, his eyelids drooped. "What?"

"Don't snarl at me like that, and don't shut poor Charlotte out if she wants to come in."

That was something of an if, she realised, and so she was confused when Ian said "Hasn't she?"

"What's wrong?" Roger said from the kitchen, and from the hall "Where's Charlotte?"

"Isn't she here?"

Leslie had forgotten how much longer family conversations took than any other kind, how much more strewn with repetitions they were. "What would she be doing here the way she feels about it?" Roger said not far short of Ian's face. "Why isn't she with you?"

"She was. She ran off. I thought she'd have come back."

"You were meant to be taking care of her, Ian," Leslie said, and before she'd finished Roger was demanding "Why did she—"

"Maybe she hid in the car. I'll look."

Ian was turning his back with, Leslie sensed, a good deal of relief when his father said "She can't be there, it's locked. You haven't told us why she ran away. Open the door while you're at it, will you."

Ian pulled the door wide. From the third stair up Leslie could see all the way along Jericho Close, which the sunlight emphasised was deserted. Either this or the continuing spectacle of lan's back put an edge on Roger's voice. "You're supposed to be answering my question."

lan's shoulders moved as if considering a shrug, but he said "We got bored in the park. I was taking her to see someone, only she made a scene. You know how she goes."

"Talk to our faces, Ian. Nobody out there wants to hear you." Before Ian had progressed much further than starting to obey, his father snapped "Who?"

"Who what?"

"I don't know whose time you think you're wasting or why. Who were you trying to make her see?"

"I didn't think I'd have to make her. I thought she'd want to go—"

Leslie wondered if he might be more responsive to a hint of gentleness, and so that was how she said "Who would it have been?"

"Crys Nolan."

"Shaun Nolan's sister?" Roger said in a tone that was determined to be answered. When it failed he tried "What was the idea of getting Charlotte mixed up with your gang?"

"She's the only girl I knew for Charlotte to play with."

"So what was the problem?" Leslie felt the need to learn.

"Her. Charlotte. Her not thinking I could know any girls."

"I can imagine," Roger said. "Thank God at least you didn't 
involve her with Shaun and the rest of that bunch. I'd have had some explaining to do to Hilene." His voice hadn't softened much, and now it sharpened. "How long is it since you let Charlotte run away?"

"Don't know what you mean by let."

"I'm wondering, believe me," Roger said, and with all the fury he'd been withholding "Never mind playing word games with me, Ian. That's one of the things you can do without having picked up from your friend who was no kind of a friend. How long has it been since you last saw Charlotte?"

"However long it takes to come through the park."

"Were you running? Were you anxious for her?"

Ian's response might as well have been a shrug. "What do you think?"

Leslie was afraid his father might lash out at him for the first time in their lives, but as she moved close in case she had to intervene, Roger only said "Where did you lose sight of her?"

"On the North Circular by Shaun's."

"Which way was she going?"

"Didn't see. She ran into the traffic."

"Well, I hope you're happy with yourself. You're asked to take care of a child for an hour and you're incapable of even doing that. Try looking at me now and then when you're being spoken to. You can't make a situation go away by pretending you're somewhere else."

"Roger."

"All right, I know this isn't bringing Charlotte back any sooner. Tell me what will if you can."

"I was just going to ask you if you thought that call could have been her."

"Which?"

"The one you said was a wrong number."

"That's what it was, a wrong number."

"Who was it?"

"How should I know? It was a wrong number."

"It couldn't have been Charlotte trying to get through?"

"How, when she's got no money on her?"

"Then you wouldn't have heard her and known it was her."

"It wasn't."

"You're sure. You heard someone that wasn't Charlotte."

"Obviously," Roger said with a stare of disbelief that she'd pursued the subject this far.

"So there won't be any point in seeing if the phone can tell us where the call came from."

"If you think there's a reason to do that despite everything I've said I can't stop you, can I? It's your phone in your house."

Leslie rested her fingertips on the phone and knew at once there was a better reason to use it. "We aren't thinking, are we? There's only one place she'll be."

"Where?" Roger said, and she saw Ian swallow the same question.

"On her way to her mother's, of course."

"Didn't I just tell you she hasn't got a penny on her? What are you saying would make her try to go all that way on foot?"

"She might have called Hilene to pick her up, do you think? Called her and reversed the charges. Should you check?"

"If there's any need," Roger said, and strode to the gate and then to the end of Jericho Close. Having stood in the middle of the junction and used one hand as an eyeshade, he set off in the direction of the park. He was out of sight for so long that dismay tugged at Leslie's mouth when he reappeared without Charlotte. He trudged back along Jericho Close, rubbing his forehead with his knuckles and glancing over his shoulder more than once, to halt by his car. "Do you want to drive and see if you can find her?" Leslie suggested.

"And what would the rest of us be doing?"

"Someone could walk and look for her while the other stays here in case she comes back."

Roger pushed himself away from the car and tramped up the path. "Hilene was going to do the garden. That's how she calms herself down," he said, and less dolefully "If she's out that'll mean Charlotte called."

"If you say so."

"You're right, she'll be fetching Charlotte," he said, though Leslie was unaware of having made any such claim. "I remember now, she told her once how to reverse the charges if she ever needed to."

He used three fingers on the keypad to demonstrate his skill or to get the task finished. His head began to tilt to one side as though the receiver were weighing it down, but when enough time had passed he raised both. He was allowing a look of relief to emerge onto his face when his eyes switched toward the receiver. "Oh, hello," he said.

Leslie experienced a wrench of the disappointment he hadn't managed to keep out of his voice. She glanced along the hall at Ian, who was concentrating on his feet or on the kitchen floor. "Sorry if I brought you in," Roger murmured. "Having a productive time? We'll be seeing more flowers soon, will we?" All this said, and Hilene's answer listened to, it was clear he wished he could say something other than "You won't, I don't suppose you'll have heard from Charlotte?"

Leslie saw expressions she remembered from the beginning of the end of their marriage accompany his words and the pauses when his mouth got ready for another try. "I'm afraid she seems to have toddled off on her own... A bit of a tiff with Ian... No more than, not much more than half an hour... The park, and I shouldn't be at all surprised if that's where she is now on a day like this... I only thought she might have rung you. She isn't likely to ring here the way she feels... I will. Of course I will... I will, of course... That's what I'll do now, and you could keep an ear out just in case."

He planted the receiver on its stand and sent a look of disfavour along the hall. "I don't know when you'll be coming to visit again, Ian," he said, and to Leslie without bothering to change his tone "I'm going to drive and look for her. You'd better both stay here in case she comes looking for me."

Did he think Charlotte would bolt if she saw Ian by himself? Would she have any reason? Leslie tried to think not, but found she didn't want to speak to Ian. She sat on the front doorstep and leafed through her Sunday paper, which contained too much about children in peril all over the world. Dozens if not hundreds of glances away from it kept showing her how deserted the road was. Far too eventually the Peugeot reappeared, containing only Roger, who gave her an interrogative stare that didn't want to own up to being a plea. She was wondering what she could offer him except her empty hands when the phone shrilled.

He was even faster than she was. By the time she lifted the receiver he was almost in the house. Before she could speak she heard "Is Roger there?"

"He is, Hilene, but I'm afraid—"

"May I have him, please."

"All yours," Leslie said briskly as he stepped over the strewn newspaper.

"She hasn't turned up here, Hilene. I've been—" Though the blood didn't drain from his face, the expression did. "Are you sure? You don't think—No, of course I wouldn't want—All right, please go ahead... I appreciate you don't need my permission... I'll wait, shall I?... I'll wait, then."

His fingers appeared not to be working too well as he fumbled the receiver into place. "I'll stay for a little longer if you don't mind," he said, so unsurely and apologetically that Leslie might have thought he was asking for refuge. "I think she's being premature, but if it puts her mind at rest..." He raised his voice for Ian to hear, and Leslie wished it didn't sound so much like an accusation. "Hilene is calling the police."

"Are you looking for someone?" Melinda said.

Leslie turned from watching a man in an elegant summer suit walk past all the offices of film companies he might have dressed up for and vanish along Wardour Street into Soho, perhaps for another kind of meeting. "I was just remembering," she said.

"Poor Leslie."

"Not so poor. I was only thinking about the day Jack Lamb appeared."

"That's what I said, poor Leslie."

"Well, don't keep saying it. I don't feel anything like you think I'm feeling. It's gone. Deleted. No longer in demand. All I'm remembering is how I had the notion somebody had followed me from the house."

"You told me. So now you think..."

"It was him. He already knew about the house. He was pretending he didn't when he saw my notice about the room. That was something else he managed to fool me about for as long as I had him on the premises."

"You wonder how it's possible to be so wrong about somebody you're close to. I don't mean just you, Leslie. Everyone is sometimes."

"Thanks, Mel, but I think I wish you hadn't said that. Maybe I shouldn't have come into work today. It isn't taking my mind off much."

"Leslie, I'm sorry. Come here."

Despite the invitation, Melinda didn't wait for her, instead bustling along the space behind the counter and taking Leslie in her arms. She pressed her cheek against Leslie's and stroked her back just below her shoulders. Leslie felt surrounded by perfume and warmth, and though she was a little uncomfortable with the closeness of both, she returned the hug. She was wondering how long she ought to keep it up when she and Melinda grew aware of being ogled through the window by three wiry youths dressed in singlets and football shorts, who were making sounds and gestures they might have used to encourage a live sex show. "Piss off," the women chorused, and held each other until the youths wandered off, at which point Leslie intensified her hug before letting go. "I feel better for that," she was able to say without lying.

"I'm glad," Melinda said, but held her at arm's length to read her eyes. "Don't you dare start feeling guilty when you've done everything you could."

"Which wasn't much."

"You'd have told the police more if you could."

"More than just about nothing, you mean."

"It wasn't your fault if that was all you knew. I'm sure Ian did his best to help them."

"He told them more of the truth than he'd told me."

Melinda took time to peel the adhesive tape off a carton of compact discs with as little noise as possible, and then she said "What did he say?"

"Apparently after he'd had enough of her, not that he told the police he had but he didn't need to tell me, he was taking her to play with one of his friends' sisters, one of the friends I was hoping he'd grown out of, and Charlotte started prattling on about how bad, let's call him Jack because that's the way I can't stop thinking of him, how bad Jack must be to write his books, so Ian told her who he was."

"You would though, wouldn't you? So..."

"According to Ian she refused to believe him at first, and when he made her she panicked and ran off."

"Made her how?"

"Told her. What else could it have been? They were on a street full of people."

"That has to be right, that's right. If it had been anything else someone would have remembered and come forward by now."

"Why can't we notice things when it's important to? Two of the neighbours say they heard Ian and Charlotte arguing in the park, and another one saw him coming back by himself. For once I wish she'd made a bit more noise, drawn more attention to herself. She's not the kind to go unnoticed when she's upset, and if nobody's seen she is by now, what's keeping her quiet?"

"Maybe nothing you have to worry about."

"You mustn't think that, Mel. It doesn't matter whose child she is, she's a child and I care what happens to her."

"You wouldn't be you if you didn't. I just meant she might be feeling guilty about running off when she was meant to stay with Ian, so guilty she's afraid to go home."