Elisabeth Carpenter - 99 Red Balloons

I zip up the bag. There’s room to spare in there.

I grab a couple of jumpers off the airer and stuff them in the outside pockets around her.

Shit. Poor kid. She didn’t ask for any of this.

Can’t think about that.

I hoist the strap onto my shoulder. It’s not that heavy.

I lower the cap visor again and stand behind the front door.

Deep breath. Come on, you can do this.

I close the door behind me. It’s clear outside. Thank fuck it’s not the school holidays; there’s no one about. One foot in front of the other, that’s it.

There’s all kinds of crap in the boot. I have to put the bag on the ground to clear a space.

What’s that?

A car.

Sounds like it’s going at a fair speed. I grab the bag and shove it in, slamming the boot shut.

I take my time reversing. Shit always happens when I rush. Got to calm down. I’ve nearly done this. Twenty miles an hour’s the speed limit on this road – when the hell did they start changing it to that?

Nice and steady, don’t go over the limit and they can’t stop me. That’s what it used to be like anyway, they’ve probably changed it all now. No one’s got any rights these days.

I’m at the junction when I see blue lights in the rear-view mirror; they’re reflected in house windows. I see the lights before the cars. As I turn right, they stop outside my house.

Too slow, you pig bastards.

Nadia is comforting Emma; Matt is pacing up and down. I feel like I’m not here. I’m lying on the sofa with a headache so painful it’s like my brain’s about to explode.

The detective left quickly after he got a phone call. Something to do with them moving Grace. They seem to know where she is – at least that’s what they said to Emma.

‘We’ve got an address from a photo appeal,’ he said. ‘On the local news. A team is setting off as we speak.’

Emma wrapped her arms around herself. ‘Thank God.’

Then his phone went.

‘Right. Thank you, David,’ was all he said before he ran out of the house, the uniforms following him.

It’s all a blur. Did what happen before really take place? Did Mum get arrested or am I confused? I can’t remember. Zoe Pearson. The name isn’t even familiar to me. Surely if I’d been someone else I’d remember. They’ve made a mistake. I look like my dad – that’s what everyone used to say. Or were they being polite? Did I look like my dad?

I pick up my bag. There must be a picture of him somewhere. We were so close. I check all the sections of my purse, but no, there’s no photo. I dig deeper to the bottom, but all there is is a handful of crumbs.

‘What if he hurts her?’ says Emma.

For a moment I forgot where I am and why.

‘Who’s got her, do you know?’ It’s Nadia I’m asking, but they both look up.

Nadia gets up and walks over to me. She has that look of sympathy that she’s used twice on me now. She crouches at my feet.

‘Would you like me to organise for someone trained to talk to you about it? Only, it’s someone from your past… someone you haven’t seen since you were little.’

She’s talking in riddles again, like they did before Mum left.

‘Just tell me, Nadia.’

‘It’s your uncle who has Grace. Your father, David Pearson – the person Detective Hines just spoke to on the telephone – has been searching for you for a very long time. He asked your uncle, Scott Taylor, for his help in locating you – God knows why he asked him , he’s been inside more times than… anyway, he found you, and Emma. He’s been watching you two for a while – had a flat up in Horncastle. I imagine he wanted to get back at your mum, and get your attention.’

‘Right… right.’

I stand up; I don’t know why. The room is spinning and my stomach is turning. I won’t make the bathroom. I run through the kitchen and out the back door, and vomit into the drain.

‘I can’t take any more of this,’ says Matt.

He pulls on his trainers and puts on his coat. ‘Where are they?’

Nadia shakes her head. ‘I don’t know.’

‘What do you mean, you don’t know? I thought you had an address.’

‘He’s not there.’

‘What? Have you got her father’s mobile number then?’

He nodded at me when he said her – looking at me as though I were dirt, as though daggers went from his eyes into my chest. I didn’t think he’d registered anything the police had said to me, but obviously he had. He’s taken it all in quicker than I have. I can’t think about it.

Emma looks up at him. ‘What did you just say?’

‘You heard me.’

She stands up in front of him.

‘Don’t talk to my sister like that.’

He narrows his eyes at her. ‘She’s not even your sister.’

‘How dare you? Why would you even say something like that? We don’t know the full story yet.’

‘Oh, I dare all right. It’s her fault Grace was taken. If it hadn’t been for her, Grace would still be here with us.’

‘It wasn’t her fault. Did you not hear what they said to her? That she was taken as a kid. She was only five years old – three years younger than Grace is.’ She turns round to face me. ‘To think, all this time, Mum took a child. She left a mother, like me, waiting for years and years without knowing where her daughter was.’ She rushes over to me, knocking me sideways as she grabs me in a hug, sobbing. ‘It’s horrific.’

I put my arm around her and smooth down her hair.

‘It’s okay, Em. They’ll find Grace – they’re nearly there.’

It takes a few moments for her to raise her head. The skin around her eyes is red and swollen. She looks so young.

‘I’m crying for you as well,’ she says.

‘Let’s get Grace home before we think about anything to do with me.’

She nods and wipes her face with the cuff of her cardigan.

‘Do you think she’s all right?’

I nod. ‘Of course she’s all right.’

But I’m lying. I really don’t know if she will be. I pull Emma closer so she can’t see my face.

I thought there’d be some banging coming from the boot of the car, but there’s nothing. She must be asleep. She’ll need it – she’s not slept properly in days.

Maggie’s on her way. She’s finally going to see Zoe again. I’m not a total waste of space. I wonder if she’ll have me back at home for a bit, just till I get back on my feet. I’ve been trying to get on my feet for years. Never happened. Black cloud over my fucking head everywhere I go. But it will get better. This was my mission in life, I can see that now.

I just need to figure out what to do with this kid.

Shall I just dump her?

Or ask for money? She might as well be of some use to me. But, it never goes right if you ask for money, does it? That’s what they want you to believe on the telly. They never get away with it, do they? But I’m a lot smarter than those wasters.

I need to think.

I’m on a dual carriageway – I can’t just stop anywhere.

There’s a parking sign for five hundred yards away. That’ll do.

I pull in and there’s a sodding camper van already there. An old couple, folding away their camping chairs and putting away their picnic. A camper van. Now why didn’t I think of that? Could have been on the move all this time, maybe I’d have ended up in Scotland. They’d never have found us. Ah, fuck it, I’m here now.

They keep looking at me; I imagine they want me to say hello.

I nod and smile at them.

Yeah, yeah, you couple of boring camping bastards. Off you go. I reach over to the passenger seat for a newspaper that’s been there for months – I’ve read the same headline a thousand times.