Elisabeth Carpenter - 99 Red Balloons

On the doorstep, she folds her arms. ‘What is it, Stephanie?’

She’s always so formal with me.

‘This Andrew. I think he might be the one who’s taken Grace. It all makes sense – the message about happy families, that it’s payback time. It’s because Emma dumped him, you see. She told you that, didn’t she? That he was bitter about it all. You must have seen the texts… the things he was saying to her. He was threatening her.’

Nadia sighs. ‘Yes, she told us all of this. We’ve had this man in for questioning, but he’s been released without charge.’

‘What? Why didn’t you let us know? I thought you were meant to keep us up to date with everything.’

‘It’s not our only line of enquiry. We have other leads. We can’t tell you everything we know – it’d get your hopes up… it’d be a rollercoaster. Do you understand that?’

I nod. I feel utterly stupid. Thinking in my head that I knew it all – that I knew everything there was to know. What an idiot.

‘Why did you ask us for our birth certificates?’

‘It’s another line of enquiry.’

Shit. I thought Emma had made it up as an excuse to get us out of the house.

‘About our family? But surely you’ve got access to the certificates and all the official documents – you’ve got access to everything.’

‘I can’t say much more until we have a clearer picture.’

The front door opens.

It’s Mum. I don’t think she’s as sober as I first thought.

‘Mum, you shouldn’t be drinking. Do you know what time it is? It’s half past eleven in the morning.’

‘I think I know what this photo is about,’ she says, swaying slightly. ‘Your dad, Stephanie. I think he made an enemy. Do you remember?’

‘What? Do I remember what? What am I supposed to remember?’

Mum and Nadia are both looking at me.

‘It’s nothing,’ says Mum, waving her hand. ‘It’s the drink talking. I’m making it up. But he could have made an enemy. If I told everyone about what we did. Oh Jesus, what am I saying? I never drink this early… and the pills. If your father knew I was back on the pills… he always hated them. They make me talk about crazy things. Ignore what I’m saying, Nadia.’

Nadia? Why is she bothered about what Nadia’s thinking?

‘What’s going on?’ I say, looking from one to the other. ‘What the hell are you talking about, Mum?’

Nadia puts her hands around my shoulders. ‘Let’s get you inside.’

Everyone’s quiet when we go back into the sitting room. Mum collapses onto the sofa next to Matt.

‘What did you mean, Mum?’ I say. ‘About Dad?’

I can’t believe Dad would make any enemies. He was the kindest, gentlest man.

‘What’s going on? What’s happened?’ says Emma.

‘Nothing, love,’ says Mum, taking another gulp of whatever spirit’s in her glass.

‘It wasn’t nothing,’ I say. ‘Mum said that Dad made an enemy. And whoever this person is has taken Grace.’

‘What?’ Emma kneels at Mum’s feet. ‘Is this true, Mum? What did Dad do that was so bad?’

‘He didn’t do anything,’ says Mum. ‘Will you stop going on about it. I wish I’d never said anything. Maybe he had an enemy, maybe he didn’t. I can’t remember what’s real any more.’ She leans forward, patting Emma on the top of her arm. ‘I’m just trying to help… wracking my brain thinking about who’s behind all of this.’

Matt gets up. ‘Nadia, is there something you’re not telling us?’

Nadia’s leaning against the doorway. As usual her expression is unreadable. I thought she was meant to be here for us, to be on our side. Why have I been so naïve? Don’t the police always suspect the people closest to the victim?

‘We’ve received a tip-off that we’re looking into.’

‘What is it?’ says Matt. ‘Did someone recognise the man in the picture?’

‘Something like that. This is just one of several lines of enquiry we’re looking into.’

She keeps coming out with the same old lines. I can’t bear it.

‘Can someone get me another drink?’

‘I think you’ve had enough, Mum,’ I say.

‘I’ll get it,’ says Matt.

It’s true that when you spend enough time in someone’s company they lose their shine.

‘Did you know,’ says Mum, her words are slurred. She must have taken more than one of her pills and mixed it with the alcohol. ‘I once knew this little girl, who had the same name as you.’ She’s pointing at me. ‘Such a loving child – used to follow me everywhere, and I followed her right back. She loved daisies. We used to make them into chains. Don’t pick the dandelions , she’d say, they’ll make you wet the bed . She learned that at school – the short time she was at school at least. She loved the colour blue – I decorated the whole of her bedroom blue. I had to paint it myself of course. It was just her and me for years. Your dad didn’t know her like I did – it was always work, work, work, with him. And then… and then…’

Mum’s face crumples.

Matt comes back from the kitchen with her tumbler full. For fuck’s sake, she doesn’t need any more. She’s away with the fairies. Why is she talking about dandelions? She’s finally lost it.

‘Here you go, Milly.’

She grabs it and doesn’t say thank you. ‘All the names on the pieces of paper were Stephanie . Do you remember? You picked it out.’

‘I don’t know what you’re talking about,’ I say. She’s not even looking at me.

‘Can I ask you a question, Matthew?’ says Nadia.

Matt looks confused; I think Mum’s not the only one who’s been on the vodka.

‘Why do you call her Milly?’

‘Eh?’

‘Your mother-in-law. Why do you call her Milly?’

Matt falls, rather than sits, in the armchair. He smiles. I don’t think it’s funny. I want to go over and slap his face, and tell him that he shouldn’t be laughing.

‘You answered your own question.’ He sits there smugly. I want to pour that drink over his head. ‘Mother in law. M – I – L… Milly. It suits her better than Catherine, I think.’

‘I see,’ says Nadia, but she’s not smiling.

I think Catherine suits Mum just right. Distant, no fun, no compassion, no nicknames. She always calls me Stephanie, not Steph. Is that how she thinks I am too?

Nadia’s mobile rings and, as usual, she takes it outside.

I have never seen Mum this drunk. Would she talk about Jean in front of Emma in this state? I daren’t be the one to mention it. It’s too cruel; Emma’s going through enough.

‘So it’s not your little stalker then, Emma?’ says Matt.

‘It’s not a fucking joke,’ she says.

Her cheeks are red and her eyes appear half their size.

‘This is our daughter’s life we are talking about.’

‘Don’t you think I know that?’ He leans forward as though attempting to get up, but stops trying. ‘This is the worst kind of torture anyone could ever deal with. Not knowing where my little girl is. Out there in the shithole of the world with fuck knows who and they’re doing God-knows-what to her.’

Emma winces.

‘But what am I meant to do?’ he says. ‘They won’t let me go out there and look for her. They’ve searched the house three times – taken up our floorboards, for fuck’s sake. Imagine them thinking that we’d done something… What the fuck am I meant to do?’

Emma grabs his glass just in time as he puts his head in his hands and sobs. She looks around at me, at Mum, then places the glass on the floor. She puts her arms around his head and cries with him.

It’s getting cloudy outside, but no one is turning the lights on – are we all going to end up in darkness? After a few minutes of watching Emma and Matt together, Mum wriggles herself so she’s perched on the end of the sofa.