Or maybe not. She could be within minutes of sitting in an ambulance as it blue-lighted towards hospital, Naomi with God knows what injuries pale on the stretcher beside her. Or – the worst thought in the world – she could be within minutes of watching police cars scream up and park diagonally across the street, officers running to stretch tape across the entrance to one of these houses – the start of a murder investigation. When her mobile rang she could hardly control her fingers enough to answer it.
‘Naomi isn’t here,’ said David. ‘Go at once to the police station and I’ll meet you there, Nina. There’s more news.’
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Claire’s story – Edinburgh
‘Waah, Gran – did you really walk up these steps all the time when you were little?’
Claire laughed, feeling her breath catch in her throat as she and Naomi arrived at the top of Waverley Steps, coming up from the train station. The escalators were off, and a tired stream of early Christmas shoppers were pounding their way up and down the stairs, helped or hindered by the wind that was a permanent feature there.
‘I certainly did. You get used to it, you know. Let’s go and have some orange punch before we visit Santa.’ Claire breathed in, smelling the roast-chestnuts-mulled-wine-too-much-traffic smell that was so peculiarly Edinburgh at Christmas. She and Naomi were spending the weekend here, a belated treat for the little girl’s sixth birthday.
They wandered along bustling Princes Street, Claire’s hand gripping Naomi’s. She could hear children singing carols further along the street. Good King Wenceslas was followed by Jingle Bells. Sweet, high-pitched, slightly out-of-tune little voices, accompanied by a whiff of mince pies from the stand by the roadside – how lovely it was to be back. The ghost of Christmases past. And how odd to think that Nina was younger than Naomi was now when the two of them returned home to Mum and Dad in Edinburgh.
Claire pulled out her purse when they reached the stand, and bought a paper cup of mulled wine for herself and one of orange punch for Naomi. This was perfect, a visit to her home town with her granddaughter – how blessed she was. The tension that had ruled her life for so many years was all but gone – she had made it. Nina was grown up and the two of them and Beth were successfully running the B&B; whether or not Robert was alive and well she had no idea, and while she couldn’t quite say she didn’t care, it wasn’t such a huge obstacle to her peace of mind. Being a Grandma had helped her get things into proportion. She had a wonderful family, a beautiful home… she even went on the odd date now. Life was good. Who cared what Robert may or may not do? In any case she had every intention of living to be a hundred and fifty, so Robert would never have the chance to contact Nina. Miserable git that he was.
Most importantly, she had come to realise that the very fact that in all these years Robert had never taken the trouble to contact his daughter would prevent Nina forging any real relationship with her father. Robert had rejected Nina. And maybe someday the opportunity would arise for her to sit down with her girl and have a frank talk. Explain things. And if it didn’t – no matter.
‘Can we visit Santa now?’ Naomi was jumping up and down, blonde hair escaping from the Swedish woolly hat one of their foreign visitors had sent her. Happiness surged through Claire. It was almost Christmas and Santa was real; the magic was still intact.
Count your blessings, Claire, she thought. You’re the luckier grandparent. You have a daughter who loves you and a granddaughter who thinks you’re wonderful. Nothing’s worth more than that.
‘‘Course we can,’ she said.
Chapter Thirty
As soon as he walked into the room she saw it, and it was all she could do not to scream.
‘Don’t touch,’ said David Mallony. He placed the evidence bag on the interview room table.
Nina stared through clear plastic. Naomi’s blue and white striped sweatshirt lay there, unfolded, looking for all the world as if the girl had pulled it off and flung it down on the table.
‘Where did you find it?’ Did this calm voice really belong to her?
‘It was on a sofa in number ten, near to where you remembered leaving Wright’s car,’ said David steadily. ‘This proves Naomi was in that house at some point. There’s no sign of either of them now, though, so it may simply have been a stopping-off place. According to the neighbours, the people who rent it are on holiday. And we’ve found the car registered to Paul Wright, so he must be using the other one, the one you transferred to beside this house. It possibly belongs to the people who live in that house so we’re investigating that too.’
Nina sat still, her eyes devouring the sweatshirt. All she wanted to do was rip the bag open and bury her face in soft cotton, blue and white to match the blue sweat pants Naomi wore to play badminton back on Arran. She’d folded it and put it into Naomi’s bag on – yes, on Monday. She hadn’t seen her daughter for four days.
‘It feels as if we’re running along three steps behind him all the time,’ she said, the pain back in her chest. Oh God – perhaps her heart was broken. ‘This doesn’t bring us any further forward at all.’
‘It still might. We know Wright has access to that house and we’ll keep it under observation in case he comes back,’ said David, lifting the bag again. ‘Nina - ’
‘I know,’ she said dully. ‘Go home and rest.’ And how impossible was that?
Back in Sam’s car, Nina called The Elms, only to be told that Emily was asleep and the warden didn’t want her disturbed. Nina sagged in her seat. They had run out of things to do.
‘Let’s go home, like he said,’ said Sam. ‘Have something to eat, and you can phone Bethany and Alan. And you know, maybe they’ll find something quite quickly now they have his car and that flat to investigate too.’
Back home, he made them BLTs, and insisted Nina finished hers and drank a full glass of orange juice. She didn’t have the energy to argue with him. She felt dead inside; the pain in her chest was gone and the agony she’d felt on looking at Naomi’s photos that morning seemed very far away. Would there never be any positive news? And talking of news, she should watch the appeal on television. It would be on after the bulletin at the top of the hour. Apprehensively, she stared as TV adverts for this and that danced across the screen. Perfect families, those soap powder people. All clean and smiling and Mum and Dad and the kids. Shit. They said you couldn’t miss what you’d never had, but you could, you could. How very much she missed being part of a family like that.
The sight of Naomi’s face filling the screen jolted Nina more than she could ever have imagined. First the smiling photo was shown, while a male voice read the text. Towards the end the jigsaw photo was substituted in, and Nina sobbed aloud. How sweet and serious Naomi was with her jigsaw, and right this minute no one could tell them if she was alive or not. No one except Paul. Impossible to imagine what she would do if she lost her child. The thought, the dreadful hope that Naomi might soon be found was all that was keeping her upright today.
Sam hugged her as the appeal gave way to the weather forecast. ‘Come on,’ he said briskly. ‘Millions of people are on the look-out for Naomi now.’
Nina swallowed. ‘I want to go back to the police station. If anything comes in I want to be there.’
‘Well – let’s call by, anyway. You can’t sit there all day. And don’t forget Emily – we should check on her too and that might be more useful than hanging around at the police station.’
Nina heard his mobile ring while she was in the bathroom, and came out to hear him say goodbye to David.