Elisabeth Carpenter - 99 Red Balloons

‘Less of the cheek.’

If I wasn’t feeling so out of sorts, I’d have shoved him right off the bloody chair.

After he settles, he picks at the envelope, his hands shaking.

‘I think you’ll have to do this,’ he says. ‘Damn hands. I think my body’s giving up on me.’

I take the envelope from him.

‘Give over. Stop being so melodramatic.’

‘I’m not.’

I get my glasses from the mantelpiece, and glance at the photograph facing the wall. If Jim has ever been curious about it, he’s never mentioned it. Perhaps he’s had a peek when I’m not looking.

I perch on the settee I take the card from the envelope. There’s no picture, just a handwritten message. I read it out to Jim.

‘ I’ve got a surprise for you, Maggie. ’

It gives me the shivers.

We sit in silence.

‘Why didn’t they just knock at the door?’ says Jim after a few minutes. ‘Speak to you face to face without all of these silly games.’

I get up and walk to the window and look through the net curtains. I scan the street, but there’s nothing unusual. There’s my neighbour, John, having a smoke in the front yard – showing up our side of the road as usual. I daren’t ask him if he saw who delivered the flowers; I don’t want him asking questions.

‘Is anyone outside in a mac and balaclava?’ asks Jim, his shoulders shaking at his own joke.

‘You laugh now, but someone might be out to harm me.’

‘Then why don’t you call the police if you’re that worried? Who can you be so scared of to get you into this sort of state? Is it Sarah’s partner – David, was it? Could it be him?’

‘He was her husband. He was a bit… how should I say it… sensitive. I don’t think he’d try to intimidate me. I’ve not wronged him.’

‘Then who have you upset?’

‘What do you mean?’

‘You said you haven’t wronged him. That implies you’ve offended someone else.’

I look at the ordinariness of goings-on outside my front door. Why couldn’t I have had all of that? I’m too old for all this nonsense.

‘Yes,’ I say, walking to the mantelpiece. I grab the photograph that I haven’t looked at for years, and hand it to Jim. ‘I have. My son, Scott.’

It’s getting too claustrophobic in Emma and Matt’s house. I miss my home and it being just Jamie and me. I didn’t get out of the car when I dropped Jamie off at Neil’s. I wasn’t in the mood for talking about Grace when he plainly doesn’t give a shit – even though he’s known her since she was born. Besides that, I didn’t feel like seeing Joanna swanning around on their white carpets, with red toenails and silk nightgown. She probably wasn’t wearing that at all, but that’s how I always imagine her. I waited until Jamie was safely behind their closed door before I set off. At least Neil had agreed to have Jamie for a few days, so I don’t have to worry about him being in such an oppressive atmosphere. I didn’t want to come back inside Emma and Matt’s myself – it was a wrench getting out of my car after a few minutes of freedom.

Mum’s in the kitchen, heating up a lasagne one of the neighbours brought round. I’m not usually one for food when I don’t know the source, so I’m already anxious about that. Why am I nervous about the stupid little things? I’m trying not to think of Grace. Has she eaten? Is she happy? Who’s looking after her? The man in the CCTV photograph with Grace doesn’t seem the fatherly type – but what is that anyway? I still can’t think where I’ve seen him before. His face looked so familiar, but in the way someone on television would. I close my eyes and I can still picture his face in my mind, but there’s no context – no surroundings, no one with him.

Oh God, it’s too much. How could someone take a child? There’s something wrong with them.

‘Washing,’ says Emma, breaking the silence. ‘I need to do her washing. I can’t have her coming back to a mess. Grace wouldn’t want to stay if her room was a shithole, would she?’

She walks out of the sitting room and up the stairs.

Neither Mum nor Matt attempts to follow her.

‘I’ll go.’ I try to walk but sprint up the stairs. I don’t know what’s going through her mind. I can’t know what she’s thinking; how can anyone unless they’ve been in this situation?

She’s transferring clothes from Grace’s laundry basket and floor into another basket. She’s doing it so fast it’s as though she’s possessed.

‘Emma, wait a second.’

She doesn’t stop.

‘Emma.’ I walk round Grace’s bed, grabbing hold of the basket in Emma’s arms.

‘What are you doing?’ she says. ‘I’ve got to do it – to make it nice for her.’

I pull the basket towards me. ‘You can do it tomorrow. You need to rest.’

She’s tugging it back. ‘Rest? How can I rest? This is something I can do for when she gets back.’

‘I know, but I don’t think now is the right time.’

‘Why? What else can I do? The police have already searched her room – they’ve tainted it. They’ve looked through every single thing that she has. How would she feel about that? She’d be mortified. Not even I have looked in her diary, yet they’ve taken it. They’ve taken pictures off the photo collage on the wall – they’ve taken her comb for samples of her hair, her skin – they’ve taken her toothbrush. It’s like she’s not mine any more – she’s everyone else’s. And I don’t know what to do to change that. I don’t know what to think. I don’t know what to do.’ She sits down on Grace’s bed. ‘I don’t know where she is.’ Tears are streaming down her face. ‘I want her to tell me what to do.’

‘But washing these…’

‘What?’ She leans closer to me, her eyes searching my face. ‘You think she’s dead, don’t you?’

‘I never said that.’

‘You don’t need to. Why else would you say to leave her things? Unless…’ She stands up and tips Grace’s clothes onto the floor. ‘Unless you think I did something to her.’

I stand up quickly. ‘Of course I don’t think that. How could you—’

‘No, how could you ?’

‘What’s all the noise – why are you shouting?’ Matt’s standing at the doorway.

‘Stephanie thinks I shouldn’t wash Grace’s clothes because she thinks she’s dead!’

‘I never said that, Matt. I just said that maybe she shouldn’t be washing her clothes…’

Matt strides over, picking up Grace’s things and putting them back into her laundry basket.

‘What are you thinking, Emma? Just leave them.’

Emma puts her hands on her hips. ‘Well I should have realised you’d side with her. I should have bloody known.’ She turns to me. ‘You want everything I have, don’t you?’

‘What? No. What are you talking about?’

‘Why don’t you get your own boyfriend, eh? Instead of fawning over my husband?’

‘Emma!’ Matt shouts. ‘You’re talking shit now.’

‘What the hell is going on?’

Great. Now Mum’s come to give her two pennies’ worth.

‘Steph and Matt are ganging up on me as usual.’ Emma’s shouting, her face is red and her eyes are wide. ‘I just wanted to wash Grace’s things.’

‘You wanted to wash them?’

‘Oh, not you as well. So none of you think she’s coming back? How could you think that?’ She collapses to the floor.

‘Oh, Emma.’ Mum puts her arms around her shoulders and guides her up. As they walk slowly out of the room, Mum says, ‘I’ll get you one of my Valium. You need to get some sleep. You’re so tired you can’t think straight.’