Elisabeth Carpenter - 99 Red Balloons

‘I think I have a line.’

‘Give it here,’ says the man next to her. He picks up a magnifying glass and squints as he scrutinises the ticket. ‘You’ve only got three numbers – at the very maximum – on any one line, Eileen,’ he says. ‘You need five in a row to shout house . Do we really have to do this at every third number he shouts out?’

‘But you know my eyes are bad,’ she says.

‘Well, you shouldn’t play if your eyes are that bad. How can anyone else enjoy it if we’re interrupted every two minutes?’

‘Eh, Jack, leave Eileen alone,’ says another woman. ‘Let her have her fun. You never know, she might be dead tomorrow.’

Oh God, this evening is going to drag. Why do they have to talk so loudly? I must have a bad head from that sherry earlier. Someone shoot me now and put me out of my misery.

‘I said, how’s your card looking?’ shouts Jim.

‘Did you?’ I look down. ‘Fine.’

I glance towards the door and spot the eyes that have been staring at me on and off since we got here. I look back at my bingo card, but I can still see her from the corner of my eye. She’s not as old as the residents – younger than Jim and me too. She must be a visitor. Although she’s sitting on her own, with playing cards or something laid on the table in front of her. Perhaps she’s with the bingo caller.

‘Here, let me take over, Maggie. You’re too slow.’

Jim takes control of my numbers; I can’t concentrate. I keep thinking about the man on the phone. Sitting here in the warmth, amongst people I don’t have to talk to, I feel safe. I almost don’t want to leave and be alone in my house – the home I’ve lived in for nearly sixty years. I don’t feel confident about answering the telephone any more. I can’t think about it.

‘Come on,’ says Jim. ‘Shout bingo!’

‘What?’

‘You’ve won, love.’ Jim’s almost jumping up and down in his seat. He grabs my hand, lifts it and waves it in the air. ‘Bingo! Over here.’

‘Oh, Jim, just pretend it’s yours. Please.’

‘Don’t be daft, you’ve won fifty quid.’

The man from the front jogs slowly to reach our table and checks my ticket.

‘Congratulations, my lovely,’ he says, almost shouting. Does he think I’m deaf? ‘If you’d like to take your ticket to my dear wife over there.’ He points to the lone woman at the table of playing cards. ‘Don’t worry,’ he leans closer and winks, ‘she’s not as scary as she looks.’

He jogs back over to the front.

‘Well done there, Mags,’ says Jim, grinning to his ears.

‘It’s not like I’ve won Mastermind .’

‘Don’t rain on it. Fifty quid’s fifty quid.’

‘Will you get it for me? I’ll split it with you.’

‘Tell you what… we’ve got three games left… I’ll come with you after it’s finished.’

‘Thanks, Jim.’

The bingo restarts, but I still can’t concentrate. Without saying, Jim has taken over my next card. I look at him from the corner of my eye. He never was a looker, bless him, but he looks better now he’s older. What’s it they say about growing into your face? It must be the case with Jim. I think about what’s happened over the last couple of days and I don’t know what I’d have done without him.

‘Come on then, let’s get your winnings,’ he says.

‘They can’t have played three games already.’

‘They have indeed. You’re away with the fairies. But I don’t blame you. You’ve enough on your plate.’

Jim’s up and ready in seconds. He kept his coat on the whole time we’ve been here. He must have cold bones these days. He stands waiting, patiently. I know I’m being slow, but there’s something about that woman that unnerves me. I’m in no rush to get to her.

He almost drags me there; my feet are so heavy. She watches us while we walk and stands when we reach the table.

‘It’s nice to see you, Maggie.’

She holds out her hand. I’ve never seen her before in my life. Her hair is too dark for her age; she must dye it – there’s not a grey in sight. She’s wearing a velvet blouse in maroon that reminds me of my great-grandmother’s curtains.

‘Do you two know each other?’ asks Jim.

‘I’ve never met you before,’ I say to her.

‘Sorry about that, love,’ Jim says to the stranger. ‘Not one for niceties, isn’t Mags.’

‘That’s okay. Sorry,’ she says. ‘I could’ve sworn we’d met before.’

She sits back down. I look at the table and what I thought were playing cards have strange pictures on them, rimmed with gold.

‘I’ll just get your prize ready.’

She counts out five ten-pound notes and puts them in an envelope. Before she seals it, she puts in what looks like a business card. She looks up. ‘Just in case you need to contact me.’

I’ve never heard anything so ridiculous. Why would I need to contact her ?

Jim rubs his hands, again. ‘I’m just off to the gents while we wait for the taxi. Won’t be a min.’

I want to follow him, but that would be a little undignified.

‘I’ll wait in reception,’ I say, trying not to look at her.

I only get a few feet away when I feel a hand grab my elbow.

‘Wait, Maggie.’

I turn slowly, knowing it’s her. ‘How do you know my name?’

She glances at the floor, before looking me straight in the eye.

‘I’m sorry,’ she says. ‘My name’s Dee. I remember you from years ago. When your poor granddaughter went missing.’

‘Right.’

I don’t know why I didn’t think of that before, but strangers haven’t approached me for years. I knew they meant well, but it was mortifying, heartbreaking. It was why we hardly went out.

‘I’d better be going,’ I say.

‘Maggie, please wait a minute.’

‘Hang on. Why do you keep calling me Maggie? I was always Margaret in the newspapers.’

She comes closer to me; I step back.

‘I know you probably think I’m insane – I get that a lot. But…’ She takes a few breaths and taps her chest. ‘Zoe’s still alive.’

We’ve been driving for days and days. It might even be weeks. I haven’t been home for a long, long time. We had dinner at a café on the autobahn : sausages and chips, or bratties und frits – that’s what George called them to the man behind the counter.

‘Not long now, kid,’ he said. ‘Should be there in an hour.’

‘Be where?’

He tapped his nose with his fork. ‘You’ll see.’

‘Is it somewhere scary?’

He almost choked on a frit. ‘Course it’s not. Lovely people. Probably.’

He wiped his mouth with the paper towel, and that was the end of our meal. There was another girl with a man sitting at the table near the window. He was probably her daddy. She kept looking at me, but I pretended I didn’t see as I’m not to look at anyone any more. There were lots of people around. I should have shouted or screamed, or asked someone where my mummy is. I wasn’t very brave at all.

I don’t know how long it’s been since we were at the café, nearly three hours I think. Or was it yesterday? I can’t tell if I’ve been asleep or not. I don’t want to get to where we’re supposed to be going, but I don’t want to stay with George either. At least I know he won’t hurt me – not without me doing something to make him upset anyway, and I’m trying really hard to be good.

‘Almost there, kidder.’

I don’t think he knows my name – he hasn’t used it yet. I’m not sure if he knows my mummy either. If he did, he’d have let me talk to her by now. She gets worried if I’m quiet upstairs for too long. She’s going to be really worried now I’m not even in the house. I can’t remember our telephone number, not in the right order.