Natália Gomes - Blackbird

‘Yes . . . I think so.’

‘Well, did she tell you we broke up?’

‘What?’

‘I guess she doesn’t tell you everything.’

‘This isn’t a joke. This is a waste of police time. She could be charged or something, I don’t know.’

‘I’m telling you the truth. We broke up. I wasn’t at that party because I knew she was going. I did my own thing, hung out with the boys from the football club.’

‘Why did you break up?’

He frowns, tiny lines forming across his forehead.

I can’t imagine them not together. They’re all I remember. The two of them and Emily have been friends for so much of her – and my – life. Was this because of London? Had they argued about her moving there? Had he refused to go, or asked her to stay?

‘You’ll have to ask her. I would like to know myself.’

He looks uncomfortable, his fingers fidgeting in his pockets. I don’t know what else to say to him. I came here looking for Olivia, but all I’ve done is remind him of a time he seems to want to forget.

‘Um, well if you do know where she is, please get this message to her. She needs to come home. I doubt she’ll be in much trouble now. If she waits too long, she might be.’

‘Like I said, I don’t know where she is.’ He steps back and slowly closes the front door, leaving me all alone on the step.

I turn around and walk down the driveway, glancing back at the house to see if there is any movement behind the curtains. She would have come out if she was there and heard my voice. She’d know everyone was worried about her.

I don’t think she’s here.

I gaze down the street and wonder if she walked here recently. Why would they break up? And why would she not tell me about it? I’m her sister. We tell each other everything, or at least I thought we were supposed to.

Maybe she told her best friend instead. I need to talk to Emily. She’d know where Olivia was. She has to; someone has to.

I lightly jog down to the bus stop at the bottom of the road, and check the timetable. My dad’s face enters my mind and I can’t stop thinking about the look on it when he told me we’d find Olivia soon. He looked like he didn’t believe his own words.

The ache comes back, it’s dull at first then starts getting stronger. My hand grips the metal edge of the bus shelter as I try to steady myself.

We’ll find her.

We’ll find her.

The bus pulls up loudly behind me and screeches to a halt. I close my eyes tight, and take a slow deep breath.

One foot at a time. That’s all I have to focus on.

The doors swing open. ‘Oi, are you getting on or what? I don’t have all day.’

My fingers loosen their grip on the shelter side and I push off slightly to turn around. ‘Yeah, sorry.’

Fumbling around for change in my coat pocket, I briefly glance up to meet the driver’s eyes. He startles for a moment then straightens up his back slightly. ‘So sorry, I . . . I didn’t see who you were. I’m really sorry for your family’s loss.’

‘My sister’s not dead,’ I say, my tone sharper than I’d intended. But she’s not dead. She’s missing, so please don’t call it a loss. We haven’t lost her. We just can’t find her right now.

‘Right, sorry. Where are you off to?’

‘I need to get to Kirbister Road.’

‘I actually don’t stop there, this is a number eight. I only go to Guardhouse Park . . . but I’m almost at the end of my shift, and the bus is empty. I’ll take you.’

‘Thank you,’ I say quietly, pulling out silver fifty-pence pieces from my pocket.

‘Don’t worry about the fare this time.’

I shuffle to the middle of the bus, and collapse down into a navy cushioned seat. My fingers grip the yellow standing bar, again to steady myself.

The loch is on my right, as we head north up the A965. When I look up front, I see the driver’s eyes in the rear mirror. But he’s not looking at the cars behind us, because there aren’t any. He’s looking at me. He must recognize me from the local newspapers. We’re all in there, the whole family. Our faces and names splashed all over the front, for the whole world to speculate. How did they act so fast? What do they want from us?

Shivering, I turn my body a little towards the window and gaze out. If she’s not at Emily’s, I don’t know where to go after that, what to do. We’re in the newspapers, we’re on the news – if she’s out there, she would see how this is getting out of hand.

Olivia, where are you?

Please come home.

What if she can’t come home? What if she’s trapped? Is she being held against her will? Do we know the person who has my sister? Were they in their house right now, watching TV or taking a walk on the beach with their dog? Who is the monster? Whoever it is took my sister from me. Took her from the world, when she had so much to give back.

No, no. She’s out there. I know she is, I feel it. Or do I?

The bus jolts and I know we’re here. The side door pops open, and I’m relieved because I don’t have to talk to the driver again, and face his sympathies, his pity.

‘Thank you,’ I call back as I step off and my feet land on the icy road beneath. I start pounding the pavement up the street and slow down. That’s my dad’s car. It’s parked in Emily’s driveway. He’s here too.

When I pull in closer, I see Emily at the front door talking to him. I can’t hear what they’re saying, but she looks a little scared, or maybe nervous.

‘Dad!’

He turns around, but doesn’t look surprised. ‘I told you to stay in the house.’

‘You didn’t tell me you were coming here.’

‘You didn’t either.’

‘I stopped by James’s too.’

‘James?’ asks Emily.

‘Yeah, me too,’ my dad mumbles.

I look at Emily, desperate. ‘Well, is she here?’

My dad shakes his head.

‘I was telling your dad, I haven’t seen Olivia since the party on New Year’s Eve. Sorry. I would tell you if she was here. It’s all over the newspapers, I wouldn’t lie about that.’

‘Did you know she was going to a party on Hogmanay?’ my dad asks me.

I don’t want to lie to him, but I don’t want him to think Olivia lied to him either. So I ignore his question and turn back to Emily. ‘But surely you must know where she could be if she’s not with you?’ I ask, taking another step towards her.

‘Honestly, lately I never know where she is. We haven’t been hanging out as much as we used to. So you’re asking the wrong person.’

‘Who should we be asking?’ my father says, his jaw tensing slightly.

‘Not me.’ She starts to close the door on us, but then stops. ‘Sorry, I wish I knew more, but I just don’t.’

When the door clicks shut, I turn to my dad. His chin is down at his chest. I know how he feels. Another dead end.

‘Dad, we’ll find her. She’ll come home.’

He nods his head gently, then walks back to his car. I slide in the passenger side and hear a crumpling beneath me. I’m sitting on papers. When I pull them out from underneath I’m faced with Olivia again. It’s a photo of her from her birthday dinner in Aberdeen two years ago. We had gone there for the weekend, stayed on Union Street. During the daytime, we shopped, walked along the River Don to watch the occasional salmon spring to the surface, and even visited Dunnottar Castle. It was mesmerizing. The long winding path down to the castle, the cliff drops on all sides.

In the evening, we had eaten early because Dad likes his meals around half four or five, and walked around the city which really seemed to come to life at night. It was too much for me. Too many bright lights, too many big buildings, too many sounds. But Olivia loved it. I thought it too loud, but for her it wasn’t loud enough. That’s when she decided she wanted to move to London.