Page 15

‘Sorry to call again, Chrissie,’ he said. ‘There’s one other thing I wanted to ask you.’

‘That’s OK, Mr Cooper. Whatever you want.’

‘I know you said you don’t know where Maggie is, but is there anything I should know? Maybe she told you something and asked you not to tell me and her mum, but if she did, now is a good time to say so.’

‘No,’ Chrissie said. ‘There’s nothing.’

‘Are you sure, Chrissie? Maybe a new boyfriend she wants to keep secret?’

‘I promise, Mr Cooper,’ Chrissie said. ‘I promise there’s nothing.’

She sounded – as far as he could tell – as though she was telling the truth.

‘OK,’ he said. ‘If anything comes to mind, or if you hear from her, call me. Anytime.’

4

She did not call back. No one did. By ten p.m., Sandra was as worried as him.

They sat at the kitchen table. Sandra had a mug of tea; Martin still couldn’t stomach anything. He was sure, now, that something was seriously wrong.

‘Where the fucking hell is she?’ he said. He rarely swore; even now the words felt out of place in his mouth. ‘I don’t understand what she’s playing at.’

‘Me neither,’ Sandra said. ‘But when she does get home she’s going to be in so much trouble she won’t know which way is up for a month. She can’t do this kind of thing.’

‘What if something’s happened to her?’ Martin said. ‘I can’t stop picturing—’

‘She’s fine,’ Sandra said. ‘Don’t think like that. I did this kind of thing when I was her age. It doesn’t make it any better, but this is what teenage girls do. She’ll be in the park, drinking and smoking. Or with another boy. She’s fifteen.’

‘I didn’t do this,’ Martin said. ‘I think there’s a problem, Sandy, I really do.’

‘You were a good boy,’ Sandra replied. ‘That’s why I married you. It looks like she has some of me in her. That’s all it is.’

‘Maybe,’ Martin said. ‘Maybe.’

5

At eleven, Martin walked out to his car. He couldn’t stay in the house, waiting, doing nothing, any longer. He had to go and find his little girl.

He decided to start at the park. He pulled up at the entrance and walked through the gates. From somewhere in the darkness he heard talking, and saw the red glow of cigarette tips. He headed towards them.

It was a group of four or five teenagers, boys and girls, all a year or two older than Maggie. They were smoking, bottles dangling from their hands.

‘Excuse me,’ he said.

They turned to look at him, their voices falling silent.

‘Yeah?’ one of the boys said. ‘What?’

‘I was wondering if you’d seen my daughter?’

‘Maybe,’ the boy replied. ‘Who is she?’

‘Maggie. Maggie Cooper.’

The name drew blank looks.

‘I haven’t,’ the boy said. ‘I don’t know her. Any of youse seen her?’