Sweetie (12 page)

They’d only been there five minutes, and he was aware the others were moaning for a go in the driving seat, but he had to pass the chequered flag first and then the others could have their turn. Jamie couldn’t have gone far. Wayne didn’t know why they were all getting so hysterical.

‘Look, his bike’s still here.’ Wayne pointed to the bright blue Chopper leaning against the lamp-post where Jamie had carefully parked it. The other boys’

bikes lay propped up or on the ground. Everything seemed untouched and unmoved, just as it had five minutes earlier. Gillian made sure her boys looked after their toys and bikes. It made them appreciate the value of money, but now all that seemed meaningless – Jamie was missing and his new Chopper bike could go to hell for all she cared.

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‘God, where is he?’ she screamed into the air as if hoping for an answer.

She began to cry in deep anguished sobs. Her distress was infectious and the group of boys looked tearful and afraid as they lined up against the car.

Each hung his head, and shifted uncomfortably from one foot to another. One of them – a good-looking boy with dark curly hair – wouldn’t get out of the driver’s seat, saying he’d only just got his turn, until Wayne said, ‘Gavin, get out now, you prick! Auntie Gill needs our ’elp.’

The boys honestly hadn’t seen anything. They were as baffled as anybody; Jamie had been with them, right there in the car only minutes ago, fighting over who got to sit in the driver’s seat. He couldn’t just be gone. But feeling chastened by this sudden volley of hysteria from his mum, they stood stricken and embarrassed, just like when they’d been caught nicking sweets from the Paki shop last summer.

They’d all been frogmarched back and made to apo -

logise, all over a few blackjacks and flying saucers.

Grace stepped in. ‘Gill, keep calm, shouting ain’t getting us nowhere.’

‘Calm? Fucking calm! You stupid fucking waste of space!’ Gillian continued to vent her frustration on the boy. It was as if Grace hadn’t spoken. Gillian could only focus on Wayne.

Sue stepped past the other two women inside the house and came up to Gillian.

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‘There’s no need to take it out on my Wayne, it’s not his fault.’ Sue was pale and confused-looking, still struggling to get a handle on what was happening.

‘Oh, shut up, you stupid fat cow! He was with Jamie, he’s the eldest, he knows he has to watch out for the younger ones.’ But anger was deserting her now. Gillian’s hands covered her face and she muttered, ‘Oh, God, oh, God, please let him be OK.’

Grace’s thoughts were only for her sister.

Suddenly, Gillian looked alone and vulnerable. Grace really could understand everything that was going through her head in those split seconds. She had been there and was seeing it all flash before her eyes again.

What if Jamie was being hurt right now? Her thoughts suddenly shifted to Adam, her baby, her boy. Could the same person be assaulting Jamie?

Grace placed an arm around her sister and pulled her close.

They had been very different as kids. Gillian was always the tough, chain-smoking teenage rebel, unlike her dreamy withdrawn sister. Grace had been so alone in her own teenage years, struggling with the sickening sexual advances of Uncle Gary. She had never told Gillian, never once confided in her sister, and realised in that moment that she’d been tough too, and now she needed to be tougher than ever to help Gillian. Something inside her took control. In a flash, Grace had the boys organised.

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‘Right then, I want you to go off in pairs and find Jamie. Don’t split up whatever you do, make sure you always stay together. He can’t have gone far, it’s not been long, he must be close by,’ she said hope -

fully even as a cold, sick feeling settled in her stomach.

Wayne was relieved at this opportunity to get away, and the other boys were happy to get themselves out of trouble too. They quickly jumped on their Choppers, Grifters and racing bikes, and headed off in different directions around the estate.

As they vanished down the numerous alleyways and side streets nearby it suddenly hit Grace how easy it was to hide round here. The person doing all this knew their way around so well, it had to be someone who lived close by. A shiver ran through her body, as if someone was walking over her grave. She shook herself and gathered her thoughts.

‘Come on, Gill, let’s go back inside. Jamie’ll probably turn up in a minute, let’s not panic yet.’

But Gillian stood rooted to the spot. ‘I can’t stay, Gracie, I gotta go and look for him. I can’t do nothing!’ Grace’s heart felt like lead. All she could do was look despairingly at her little sister as Gillian stared up and down the road, desperate to see her son.

Lizzie was the first to speak and break the eerie silence that had descended over them.

‘Listen, we’re all getting too jumpy. I’m sure he’s 109

fine. You know what these boys are like – they’re a law unto themselves. Jamie’s probably just gone round the shops to get some sweets.’

‘What with, hot air? He hasn’t had his pocket money yet,’ spat Gillian, still peering up and down the street for a sign of Jamie.

Opposite Sue’s house, by the entrance to a worn-out-looking tower block, a group of girls were playing hopscotch, using a grid crudely drawn on the paving slabs with a chunk of chalk dug from the earth by the swings. They were oblivious to the unfolding drama until an unearthly cry filled the air.

They froze mid-game as Gillian’s patience finally snapped. A terrible wail left her, and the name

‘Jamie’ could be heard ringing through the streets of the whole estate. Suddenly everyone was outside their front door, looking on, and gathering in small groups. Loud whispers filled the air. Jamie Hoare was missing!

Grace calmed Gillian down with difficulty, gripping her flailing arms and keeping them tight by her sides until Gillian’s hysteria was spent and she leaned against her sister for comfort.

‘Sue, come and get Gill. I’m just gonna ask those girls if they’ve seen Jamie.’ It was a command, not a request. Sue obediently made her way over to gather up a by now limp Gill and take her back inside as Grace made her way over to the gang of girls playing opposite.

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There were four of them, all around eleven or twelve years old. She knew them by sight but not by name. She was sure they knew Potty’s Lucy, though.

Typical little cows, all full of themselves and far too old for their years. She was surprised they were even playing a child’s game. Normally they were hanging around with bold mascara-clogged eyelashes and white shiny lipstick, looking at all the boys and trying to be grown-up.

‘Have you seen Jamie Hoare?’ Grace demanded.

The girls knew something was up and were slightly guarded in their response.

‘What, blond Jamie with the long hair?’ asked a cocky-looking girl in a pair of purple suede hot pants with long black criss-cross laces which tied at the sides. She shielded her eyes from the sun with the back of her hand to get a better look at Grace. Just like Lucy Potts, all these girls wanted to grow up to be like Grace one day. That sleek black hair, that tight-fitting denim mini-skirt, the large gold hoops in her ears . . . everything Grace was, they wanted to be.

She held the girl’s gaze and tried to soften her own face into a smile.

‘Yeah, Benny’s big brother. He was here with Wayne and the others just now, but he seems to have wandered off somewhere. You didn’t see him go, did you?’ Beads of sweat were forming on Grace’s brow, her cotton shirt was feeling clammy, but she remained outwardly calm.

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‘They were all playing in that flash motor. Is it yours?’ The girl looked her up and down enviously, drinking in every little detail.

‘Yeah. But did you see him go off on his own?’

Grace tried to keep her voice calm but she could feel the panic rising.

‘Nah. We ain’t seen nothing.’ The girl gave Grace another funny look, trying to work out what this was all about, then added in a quieter voice, ‘Sorry, but is it that paedo again? We’ve all ’eard things, you know, about the sex maniac. Rumour has it he’s hurt three kids. I knew Chantal, she was me mate. We ain’t all silly, ya know. You grown-ups think we know nothing, but we know what’s been ’appening round ’ere, don’t we, Sha?’

The cocky girl gave her friend a knowing look. Sha just nodded back and the two others stared at Grace, waiting to see what would happen next. Unper

-

turbed, she asked again.

‘Listen, it’s important, have you seen anyone or anything unusual? Look, what’s yer name?’ Grace wanted to get on better terms with this girl, who seemed sharp and worldly. Right now Grace needed all the help she could get.

‘Kelly,’ she said. ‘Me name’s Kelly. That Steven knew nothing. He was too stupid, just a poor twat.’

Grace looked at them all, pleading in her eyes. ‘I mean, what’s to see round this shit hole?’ Kelly went on. The girls all looked at each other then, sensing 112

somehow that trouble was brewing. ‘We’ve done nothing, lady. Just hung around, that’s all.’

‘I’m not accusing you of anything,’ Grace replied.

‘But we can’t find my nephew, and just want some help. Have you seen any strangers round here, people you don’t normally see?’ Her voice was rising now, becoming shrill. She could feel herself losing it.

Breathe deeply, she told herself, breathe deeply.

‘No, no strangers,’ answered one of the quieter girls, shyer and smaller than the others and wearing a pair of pink National Health specs fixed with a plaster at the side. ‘Only Slimy George and Harry the Horse.’

‘Who’s Slimy George?’

‘The caretaker from the school. He walked past a while ago, and so did Harry. Oh, and a couple of the old biddies from the flats, going to afternoon Bingo, I s’pose. But no one really.’

Grace knew Harry, of course. How odd that he had found her Adam and been around when Jamie had gone missing. But Harry was a right old softie, he wouldn’t hurt a fly. Christ, she was getting paranoid!

‘OK, girls, thanks. Keep an eye out for Jamie, will you? Tell him to go straight to Sue’s when you see him, his mum is worried sick.’ Grace turned away and headed back. She could hear the girls talk in quiet whispers to each other and then giggle. She resisted the urge to tell them that it wasn’t funny, they could be next.

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She braced herself as she reached Sue’s front door.

Time to get control of herself and this situation. Some bloody fool had the radio blaring out a few doors down. The irritating strains of ‘In the Summertime’

by Mungo Jerry seemed to haunt her. Terry Williams was loitering uselessly in the doorway, seemingly unsure of the best course of action; he usually relied on his wife for instructions but Sue was feeling uncharacteristically subdued by Gillian’s outburst and busying herself instead by making a fresh pot of tea. Gillian sat stony-faced and lost for words at the kitchen table. Nobody spoke, each of the women tortured by her own thoughts, all of them shit-scared.

Grace pushed past Terry after a frosty sideways glance at his unshaven face. He really was a bloody hopeless character, totally pussy-whipped by that fat wife of his, never moving without her consent, always waiting for her nod of approval. Not her idea of a man at all. Suddenly she felt a stab of longing for her John. He always knew what to do, was always reliable, never hesitated . . . even if what he did was wrong. She felt bad for the way she had spoken to him last night. He had only been doing what he thought was right, and Grace had the wisdom to know that you had to let a man be a man. She couldn’t expect them to think just like women did.

Men were different: that was the whole point, that was why you needed them. And right now she needed 114

John badly. She could feel that terrible fear returning and wanted to get back to him and their boys and be safe in their lovely home, but she had to keep it together, for Gillian.

Come on, Jamie, you little sod, she thought to herself, show your face.

Doing nothing wasn’t an option, Gillian was too agitated and Grace knew that, so she made her sister and Benny Jr go with her and together they combed the tunnels and balconies and alleys and side streets of the estate, finally heading up towards the main road where they reached the shops. They stopped in the post office, the City Farm and various factory outlets on the way, asking if anyone had seen Jamie.

Keep busy, keep moving, don’t think, just walk! They called into Ali’s the newsagent’s and then spoke to Costas in the fish and chip shop, but neither man had seen Jamie.

The women left behind in Sue’s kitchen barely spoke. Only the sound of the boiling kettle and TJ

banging his bricks together penetrated the uneasy silence. They occasionally cast worried looks in each other’s direction, waiting for someone else to break the ice. Even with the front and back door open it was stiflingly hot and there was no breeze to relieve the oppressive heat. Nanny Parks removed her pink cardigan to expose the dimpled, wrinkled flesh of a woman twenty years older.

Still not quite fifty, Nanny Parks looked way older 115

than her years. She was a petite, fragile woman who’d been prematurely aged by hardship and a bitterly unhappy marriage to a vicious drunk. Her life had never really been her own. After all the beatings and bouts of rough sex with an uncaring husband, and the weight of the three jobs she’d held down to keep the house going and the kids in shoes, all she wanted now was a bit of time on her own, to enjoy herself while she still could.

Iris Parks had been a beauty in her day, and she’d had her pick of men, but like most women who’d survived a bad marriage, she had suffered lasting physical and mental damage. Her skin hung off her bones, paper-thin and powdery, and only the deter -

mined set of her narrow mouth betrayed her inner strength. First Adam, now Jamie. Why
her
grand -

children? Weren’t theirs the generation who were finally going to have it good? And hadn’t her family been through enough already? That nasty old bastard she’d married had drunk himself into an early grave, her beloved brother Gary was killed in his prime, and now her girls’ babies, her pride and joy, were threatened. Her vision of a contented future seemed to be rapidly fading away.