Elisabeth Carpenter - 99 Red Balloons

There’s buzzing in my ears. My knees are sinking. My head hits the floor.

I’ve had to tie her up after she tried to get out of the room yesterday. Who knew that such a little girl would have such a feisty spirit? It’s always the quiet ones, isn’t it? I listen at the door before going inside. She’s asleep, or pretending to be, so I leave her to it. She wasn’t interested in the kids’ videos I’d got from the charity shop. I only had the old telly with a video player – it doesn’t even receive a proper signal now everything has gone bloody digital. I’d thought she’d be grateful that she had something to watch, but she’s been sleeping most of the time. Must be used to better things.

My contact delivered everything to the right people, but he went off-plan when he broke into Zoe’s house. I don’t know what he thought he’d find there. Just as well she didn’t catch him, would’ve scared her shitless. I’ll get someone to have a word with him. Dickhead. He’s a fucking liability.

I sit on the edge of my bed and look out of the window. It could be my imagination, but I’m sure more people than usual are looking at the house. I wish I had a television now. Need to keep tabs on what they know. The radio just plays shit music, there’s never enough news.

There’s a kid playing football in the street. Is it the weekend? I haven’t kept track of the days. What the hell is wrong with me? Is it school holidays? Sometimes I wonder at which crossroads I gave up my choice to have a family – meet a nice girl, have a few kids. It would have suited me, I think. Circumstances can trick us into thinking we’re powerless, but remember: we can control our own circumstances . No – that wasn’t in my readings – I think Tommy Deeks told me that.

In quiet times, I wonder when everything went so wrong. Was it me? My counsellor would go on and on that my brain was affected by the amount of weed I smoked. She’d obviously just been on another course or something.

‘That can’t be right,’ I said. ‘I feel exactly the same as I always have.’

‘But that’s your subjective opinion.’

‘Of course it is. It’s the only opinion I have.’

She hadn’t liked that of course – someone being cleverer than she was. And what did she know anyway? Always going on about my childhood as though it would reveal some hidden message as to why I behaved the way I did.

Being darkened in their understanding, excluded from the life of God because of the ignorance that is in them, because of the hardness of their heart.

I had a happy childhood. I used to go fishing with Dad, when he still liked me. We’d set off at four or five in the morning, some ridiculous time like that. I didn’t mind it then. Mum would have packed us some butties the night before and Dad would make us a giant flask of tea. Actually, it was probably a normal-sized flask, it just seemed giant then. It was my job to carry the radio and the maggots. Wriggly little bastards. They freaked me out even then. We’d sit all day together, side by side, hardly saying a word. But they were good days.

I got in with the wrong crowd – that’s what they call it, isn’t it? I just called them my mates. They weren’t a bad lot. But I never went out fishing again after that. That wasn’t what changed me.

No.

What changed me was that Zoe was stolen. And that bitch will soon realise who she’s dealing with.

Whoever makes a practice of sinning is of the devil, for the devil has been sinning from the beginning. The reason the Son of God appeared was to destroy the works of the devil.

The sound of my mobile phone makes me jump.

A sales text. For fuck’s sake.

I’ve phoned him about ten times now and he’s not replying.

Why did he give me a name and not expect me to do anything about it?

We’ve several hours’ drive ahead of us. I haven’t been out of Lancashire for years. David says Lincoln is nearly three hours away. It’s strange to think that Zoe has been living there all this time and I’ve never even visited there. I grabbed a few things and left, happy to be out of that house for the first time in a long while.

‘Do you think they’ll be on the news yet?’ I say to David.

I don’t think I’ve ever been in a car with him before. He drives so fast, and the motorways are busy; enormous lorries take up most of the left lane. Everyone’s in a hurry.

‘They might not have found them yet,’ he says. ‘Scott only gave me a vague description of where he was keeping her.’

David’s mobile sounds again. It’s attached to the dashboard with some contraption. I can’t see who’s calling, but it’s probably Scott. Part of me longs to listen to his voice. I want to hear him say that he’s sorry, to be the little boy who looked up to his dad, or the teenager who used to take his niece to the park. I want him to be who he was before everything went wrong: the day Zoe was taken.

‘Can’t you just answer him?’ I say.

David keeps his eyes on the motorway.

‘The police said not to. He might realise I’ve told them.’ He glances at me. ‘I’m crap at lying, Maggie. He’d know it in my voice.’

I nearly jump when the phone beeps.

‘He’s left a voicemail,’ David says.

‘Aren’t you going to play it?’

‘Do you want to hear it?’

‘I don’t know.’ I look out of the window. There’s a little girl in the passenger seat of the car travelling next to us. She breathes onto the window and paints a happy face with her finger. I can’t un-hear Scott’s message once it’s been played. ‘Okay.’

‘Are you sure?’

I nod. ‘Yes.’

He pushes a button.

‘David? Why the fuck aren’t you taking my calls? You’ve told them, haven’t you? What did I tell you about this? I’m going to have to move her now, aren’t I? I can’t promise her safety now, can I? You fucking idiot.’

‘Shit.’ David hits the steering wheel.

My heart is pounding again. Was that really my son? He sounded like a thug. Oh God, please don’t let him hurt Grace.

David puts on his indicator and pulls into the left lane. The next services are a mile away. He puts his foot down on the accelerator.

‘Shit, shit, shit.’

He grabs his mobile phone and hands it to me.

‘Can you find Detective Hines? I need to talk to him now.’

I look at the thing in my hands. I daren’t tell him I’ve never used one before. He glances at me, and shouts, ‘Call Detective Hines!’

‘I’m trying, David.’

‘Sorry, Maggie, I’m talking to the phone.’ I can hear the sound of ringing at the other end. ‘Press the speaker button.’

I do as he says.

‘Hines.’

‘Detective Hines, this is David Pearson. I’ve just had a message from Scott Taylor. He thinks I’ve told you – he’s going to move her.’

‘Right. Thank you, David.’

Four beeps. He’s hung up.

David breaks hard as he nears the services car park. He parks away from the other cars.

‘I’m going to have to ring Scott.’

‘Are you sure? What if he does something stupid?’

He looks at me. ‘He’s already done something stupid.’

I hand him the phone, and he gets out of the car. I get out too; I need to listen to this.

‘Can you put him on speakerphone?’

He shakes his head, putting the phone to his head. ‘He’ll be able to tell… the sound of the motorway will be too loud.’ He walks back and forth along the length of the car. ‘Come on, come on… Scott? Can you hear me?… It’s David. What are you doing? I missed your call because I was driving… No, I haven’t told them… I went to see someone…’ David sighs, takes the phone away from his mouth. ‘Do you want me to tell him you’re here?’