Elisabeth Carpenter - 99 Red Balloons

I enter the password into the website: JamieGrace123 . A few clicks and we are at the post we created.

‘Oh God – why did we put a picture up?’ says Matt. ‘Anyone could have seen that.’

‘I doubt it. You’d have to be really specific in searching to get to this site – they’d have to know our names. We’ll have to delete the post from the official website, plus the photo we posted to that other forum.’

I read the post through again. I can’t believe we uploaded it without telling Emma.

Searching for friends and family of Emma Harper (née Atkinson). Emma grew up in the village of Coningsby, Lincolnshire. Please contact Stephanie Palmer at StephPalmer125@email.com.

Below it, we’d posted a photograph from last Christmas of us all. We look so happy: Grace and Jamie sitting at the grown-ups’ feet; Matt with his arms around Mum and me, and Emma, wearing a purple paper hat from a Christmas cracker – her cheeks flushed from her first glass of champagne after cooking all day. I feel so guilty looking at it that I feel sick.

‘What if Emma comes down?’ I say.

‘She won’t if she’s taken Valium.’

All it takes is a few clicks and the posts are deleted. I lean back into the chair.

‘Thank God for that. I just hope no one’s seen it.’

‘I doubt it. We only put it online last week.’ He folds his arms, but after a moment he sits up straight, resting his hands on the table. ‘You don’t think there’s a connection, do you? What if her mother saw it… then traced us… and took Grace?’

I wrinkle my nose. ‘Surely she couldn’t have managed to do it that fast. We gave an email address. She would have just contacted us.’

‘But what sort of person was she? Sometimes kids are put up for adoption against their parents’ will, if they can’t look after them properly. Maybe she thinks your parents stole Emma.’

‘Don’t be silly,’ I say, but I’d already thought of that. Something inside me is shouting something, but I can’t hear the exact words. Perhaps her real mother wants contact with her grandchild, but then, who’s the man on the CCTV? ‘I don’t know. The only things Mum said was that Emma’s biological mum couldn’t look after her any more – that her new boyfriend didn’t like children. So Mum and Dad looked after her. I don’t know if they kept in contact with her mother or not.’ I put my elbows on the table, and my head in my hands. ‘Which is why we were so stupid to put anything on those websites. It’d seemed like a good idea after too much wine. We should’ve deleted it the day after we posted it.’

Matt puts his arm around my shoulders. ‘It’s gone now. Chances are no one saw it.’

I sit up, but Matt doesn’t move his arm. ‘Should we tell the police that we uploaded that photo?’ I ask him. ‘I mean – even if there’s a remote chance – it’s still something the police don’t know.’

‘Is it?’

‘What do you mean?’

‘The police always know more than they let on. They’ll be digging into every one of us. They might even think we have something to do with Grace’s disappearance.’

‘Really?’

‘Of course. Don’t be naïve, Steph.’

‘I’m not. It’s just—’

I look at him and he’s already looking at me. He strokes my face. ‘You’re so beautiful, Steph. You’ve always been there for me.’

He leans closer to me. When he’s only inches from my face, I stand up quickly.

‘Matt! What the fuck are you doing?’

He blinks quickly as though someone’s just slapped him. ‘Shit. I’m so sorry. I don’t know what happened then. I’m so sorry.’

I walk towards the door.

‘Steph. I’m really sorry. You won’t tell Emma, will you?’

I turn round to look at him. It’s like I’m looking at a stranger.

‘No, I won’t tell her. But I’m going home tomorrow.’

‘Wait, no, you can’t! Emma needs you here.’

‘No she doesn’t. She shouted at me a few hours ago. It’s for the best.’

I walk up the stairs slowly, then open the door to the spare room. The bed Jamie slept on is empty. I get into it and can smell the Lynx he’s used all week still on the bedding. I miss him so much.

What the hell happened tonight? Matt trying to kiss me; Mum taking tablets; Emma shouting in my face. I pull the covers to my neck. It’s like I don’t know any one of them.

She’ll soon get one of my messages. I left them with a friend. Although that friend wanted paying. I should’ve known better than to trust anyone Tommy Deeks put me in contact with. A bloke with the nickname The Panther, which he gave himself, was always going to be a bit of a liability. His real name’s Kevin Tranter. But still – we all have our price, and his was relatively cheap. Half upfront, half on delivery. I just hope he’s compos mentis enough to post it through the right bloody letterbox.

I wish I could be there to see her face when she reads it. Would it make her tell the truth? Probably not. She’s kept her secret for so long now. The next message should do it though. Wait till they find out where their precious little girl is now.

Looking at them playing happy families in the photograph nearly made me vomit. How dare she get to have all of that when I have nothing left? It was a Christmas photo by the look of the posh Christmas tree in the background. Bet that cost them a fair bit. Rich, smug bastards.

It’s pouring with rain outside. I try not to stand for long at the window. People round here don’t like me, so I keep myself to myself. A woman passes by with her dog. She always has a good nosy. I had to put up net curtains so she wouldn’t keep looking in. She uses her dog sniffing round the fence as an excuse to stop, even in the rain. I keep my eye on her – if that dog shits in my front garden, I’ll go out there and—

There’s a bang from upstairs. A dragging sound along the floorboards.

Shit.

I can’t sleep any longer. The sky is violet. Soon everyone else will be awake and I’m dreading it. Last night keeps running through my mind. All these years I’ve often imagined what it would be like for Matt to like me back, yet when it came to the reality, it filled me with shame. Blood or no blood, Emma is my sister. Had I told Matt about Emma’s mother to subliminally distance myself from her should he and I get together? I’ve behaved like a schoolgirl with a ridiculous crush. My cheeks burn with the embarrassment of it. Did Emma know? I wasn’t the most talkative of people, but she’s the closest person to me.

Matt said I’d always been there for him, but it’s Emma who’s always supported me. When my marriage to Neil broke down after he left me, Emma stayed with Jamie and me for a week. I could barely get out of bed, it was like I’d been floored. Mum, on the other hand, said, I’m glad your dad isn’t around to see you like this .

Dad wouldn’t have minded at all. When Neil and I told my parents we were getting married all those years ago, Dad reacted to the news with a smile. But a few hours later, after Neil had left and Mum was out of the room, he said, ‘If you’re pregnant, you don’t have to get married. People don’t have to stay together these days. You’re only twenty-one – you could do anything with your life.’

I laughed and said, ‘I’m not pregnant, Dad. And I know it’s not the nineteen fifties any more. Just because I’m getting married, doesn’t mean I can’t do something with my life . ’

He just nodded and said, ‘Okay.’

He was right. I was pregnant by the time I was twenty-two, and gave up the idea of training to be a teacher to stay at home and look after Jamie. I didn’t begrudge those years – it was just a different path to what I’d planned. Although working in a call centre is the total opposite of my dream job.