Where Everything Seems Double by Penny Freedman (good books to read for 12 year olds .TXT) 📗

to ring Ellie. Should I have rung already? I am telling myself that there is still the chance that Freda could turn up at any moment. I know it is not true. I pick up the phone but it is David that I ring. Surely he can do something. This isn’t a local case any more, is it? She could be anywhere. His phone goes unanswered. I leave it for ten minutes and try again. This time I leave a message. ‘David, Freda has been missing for three hours. Dumitru is missing too. The local plods need a bomb under them. You have to help.’ And then, because the phone is in my hand and I may not muster the courage again, I ring Ellie.

I think I won’t give you the details of our conversation. I hope never to experience anything like it again. Ellie screams abuse at me and I know every word is justified. She is in agony and I can do nothing to comfort her because it is entirely my fault. She is right. I was stupid to bring Freda into this situation. I am arrogant, self-satisfied, unthinking, self-centred, irresponsible, neglectful. When she hangs up I go into the bathroom and throw up again.

After that, there seems to be nothing to do. I sit, looking out of the window, hoping for David to ring back, watching for the flash of a turquoise t-shirt that will make all of this all right.

Eventually, David rings back. He has his professionally reassuring tone on, but I am beyond reassurance. He has spoken to the SIO on Ruby’s case and an all-areas alert has gone out for Freda and Dumitru, including a description of Dumitru’s car, which has been confirmed as missing from the car park.

‘So he’s got her, hasn’t he?’ I say.

‘It looks like it.’

‘But the other thing I asked you to find out about,’ I say. ‘Did you get anything?’

‘I did. And it looks as though you might be right.’

‘But that doesn’t fit with Dumitru does it?’

‘Not obviously.’

‘Certainly not with Dumitru and Freda.’

‘No.’

There seems to be nothing else to say.

‘You’ve spoken to Ellie?’ he asks.

‘No, actually, I thought I wouldn’t bother,’ I snap.

‘She’s coming back?’

‘Yup.’

There is quite a long silence before he says, ‘I can’t do anything more, Gina. I’m sorry, but I’ve got no authority. But ring me if you want to talk, OK?’

‘Yes,’ I say.

After that, I just sit and watch the light fade over the lake. I am overtaken by a lethargy that is utterly unfamiliar. I don’t do this. I rush about. I phone people and shout at them. I hammer on doors. Even sitting down, I fume, I plan, I plot and strategise. This passivity terrifies me. With an effort, I pour myself some water from a bottle in the minibar, and it makes me feel less nauseous. Later, at some point, I make a cup of tea and eat a digestive biscuit. I keep expecting the phone to ring. They know where I am, don’t they? Eve? David? The bloody police?

Later, when it is quite dark, I think about going to bed, but that I won’t do. I have to keep a vigil of sorts, I have to be on watch. When she is found, then I will sleep. I suppose I do doze, actually, because I am roused from whirling half-dreams by a thunderous knocking at the door. I haul myself up, as stiff and unwilling as an old woman, and shuffle to the door. I expect the police and my heart is skittering with terror, but when I open the door I find Annie standing there.

‘Ellie rang me,’ she says. ‘What the fuck do you think you’ve been doing, Ma?’

Chapter Fourteen SKULL AND CROSSBONES

Monday

It was hot lying here under the duvet, and lying down in the moving car was making her feel sick. And Granny would be so worried. She had no idea what time it was because he had taken her phone away from her, but she was pretty sure that Granny would have rung Mum by now. And the police of course. She had told him that but he wasn’t listening – just told her to stay under the duvet and pulled his hat down further over his face. And she hadn’t dared to put her face out and speak to him again because what she feared most was that he would put her in the boot.

She had no sense of how far they had gone. They sped up sometimes quite terrifyingly and then they would be crawling, it seemed, and she could hear him muttering to himself as they stopped and started. What she was aware of too was the pressure in her bladder. She was going to have to ask him to stop if he didn’t want her weeing all over his car. She had promised herself that she wouldn’t cry but the thought of having to lie here in a pool of wee was bringing her close. Desperate, she pushed an arm out and tapped his shoulder. He jumped violently.

‘I have to stop for the toilet,’ she said.

‘What?’

‘The toilet. I need the toilet.’

The car made a sudden swerve and she could hear prolonged hooting from a nearby car.

‘Here,’ he said.

Emerging cautiously from her covers, she saw that they were in a layby. No chance of a service station, then. Of course not. She climbed out and he did too.

‘Coming with you,’ he said.

She felt a surge of panic. What was he going to do? ‘Please, please, no,’ she whispered to herself as he took her arm and led her into the scrubby grass by the side of the road. Then he let her go.

‘Over there,’ he said, pointing to some rather feeble-looking bushes. ‘Three minutes.’

Feeling horribly exposed behind the thin branches, she struggled with her jeans and allowed herself to enjoy the release of a good wee before pulling them up again and finding them damp round the waistband. He was waiting for her by the