'Well, I can't find her.'
'Colleen is probably round her mate's, stop worrying.'
Christy sat down on the sofa and sighed heavily, making Eileen laugh. He was such a drama king when the fancy took him.
'She'll turn up, she always does. Have you been to the library? She was saying about going there this morning.'
'Her mates said she wasn't at school today.'
Lance stopped what he was doing and turned to his little brother.
'What do you mean? Didn't you see her?'
Christy shook his head and said in exasperation, 'That is what I am trying to tell you. I assumed she was with her mates. But they ain't seen her, no one has.'
Eileen caught the inflection in his voice then and saw he was really worried about her. They were so close and she knew he wouldn't worry without cause.
'Didn't you see her at all today?'
He shook his head once more and his face showed them that he was fed up with repeating himself. 'She don't walk to school with me any more, she hasn't for ages, she meets up with her mates and I meet up with mine. I don't always see her in school either. We're in different years, remember. But we always see each other on the way home; we meet up and walk the last part together and we talk about everything, you know.'
He meant their mother's illness, but he didn't want to say that. Eileen understood his reticence, they all felt like that about it. Sometimes she was frightened to talk about it too much, it made it all the more real. Reminded them of what could happen and no one could contemplate her dying. Her not being there any more.
'Have you tried all her mates?'
He nodded.
'Are you sure? There's no one she might have gone out with, played the hop with?'
He shook his head and then he stood up.
'I'm going out to have another look about but she never played the hop, and also, she knew Mum was coming home today. She was looking forward to it, so she wouldn't go anywhere, would she? Especially without telling someone? Use your loafs.'
He was annoyed that no one could see that this wasn't normal behaviour for his sister, she was always reliable. He was the one who hopped the wag and who got in trouble. Not Colleen, she was a good girl, and he resented them trying to say different.
'Stay there, Christy.' Eileen walked out to the hallway and picked up the phone. 'I'm ringing Pat, see what he says.'
Lance looked at his little brother and, sitting down beside him, he said gently, 'You sure you don't know where she might have gone? Is there anyone you might have forgotten about?'
Christy didn't bother answering his older brother, he just shook his head despondently and sighed once more.
The policeman was looking at Patrick Brodie with interest and it wasn't because he was reporting a missing person. He had heard about the family and this was the first time he had ever seen one of them close up. They were a legend and this young PC felt as if he was in the presence of royalty. This encounter would be talked about for a long time to come.
'Are you a bit fucking dense? Go and get DI Broomfield, now!' The young man didn't answer; the way Patrick Brodie was looking at him was scaring him and he knew that he should have taken more notice of what he was saying.
'Are you deaf as well as fucking stupid? Answer me!' Patrick was yelling at him now. The anger was spilling out and he couldn't contain it, not when this prick was not interested in what he was trying to tell him.
The young man was already hyperventilating and, stepping away from the glass window that was supposed to protect him from the more violent members of the general public he said, with as much bravado as he could manage, 'I will get a detective down here, sir.'
Pat stood in the reception of the police station and held on to his temper as best he could. All around him were posters about burglars and stupid fucking photos of no one worth a wank and he had been expected to talk to a kid who he wouldn't trust to go down the shops for him, let alone find a missing person. The place had the filth smell about it, cigarette smoke and lies. He hated them, hated what they stood for and what they meant to other people. He saw a different side to the police than most people and it certainly didn't endear them to him.
It was nearly midnight and Colleen was still nowhere to be seen. He was worried now, they all were. She wasn't the type of girl to go anywhere without telling someone first. Colleen was still a kid in many respects; she had never even had a sleepover at a friend's.
A familiar voice called out to him and he saw that the door leading into the station itself was open and Teddy Broomfield, an old mucker of his dad's, was waving him through.
'Come on, son. Let's have a cup of tea and see what we can do, eh?'
Pat walked through the door, feeling better now that he was actually doing something constructive. He had everyone he knew out searching for her and no one had seen her or heard from her. She was missing. There was no way she would have missed her mum coming home from hospital. He explained all that to Teddy, who agreed with him and who was obviously taking it far more seriously than the little shitbag he had spoken to earlier.
For some reason this just worried him more. It was as if now that he had reported her gone, it meant she really was missing and that she really did need to be found. That she couldn't get herself home, not without help. He was suddenly aware of how serious the whole fucking situation really was.
Lil knew within twenty-four hours that her daughter was never coming home. She didn't know how she knew that and she didn't say it to anyone else, she didn't voice her thoughts. But she knew. She knew that she would never hear Colleen's laugh again or chat to her, never hear her singing or practising the recorder.
She just knew she was gone for good.
She knew that if she saw her again it would be to identify her body; there was no way that the girl had run off, left home as the police seemed so convinced of.
Lil had watched Eileen blame herself and her sons blame themselves and had seen neighbours and friends unable to find any more words of hope or comfort.
She cuddled her little boy and she lay on the bed and wondered at a God who could send this to her on top of everything else she had had to contend with over the years. She had refused to see her priest and she was never going to go back for Communion ever again.
Life goes on. That was a saying she had used so many times herself over the years. But this time she knew it was a load of old crap; her life didn't go on. Not really. She lived from day to day and she hid her heartbreak, her anger and her terror at what might have befallen her lovely daughter from everyone.
But in the night she lived through every nightmare a mother could imagine. Every terrible thing she had ever read in the newspapers or seen on a TV programme was suddenly vivid and real to her, was feasible. Only she wasn't asleep when she saw these things, she was wide awake.
She wondered whether her baby girl was frightened, in pain, had been raped? Had she called for her mummy at any point? Had she needed her and she had not been there to answer that call?
There was nothing for them to hold on to, that was the worst of it. She seemed to have disappeared into thin air. No one knew where she could have gone or where she could be now. It was as if she had never existed, but they all knew she had. Her clothes were still in her wardrobe and her shoes were still in the cupboard under the stairs. Everything tangible, everything that proved she had ever lived here, in this house, was still in evidence. It was as if she had popped out and would soon be returning as usual. And they all felt that in different ways, she knew that; she watched them as they tried to understand what had happened.