Suzy K Quinn - Not My Daughter

‘Yes, it’s me, Miss Miller. Mum left for work already.’

‘Do you know where Liberty is, Julianne? She … she wasn’t in her bed when I woke up this morning.’

‘I’m very sorry to hear that,’ says Julianne.

‘You … I mean, you girls were friends once. Has she told you anything?’

‘We were friends about a hundred years ago,’ says Julianne, sounding suddenly prim. ‘Liberty changed. She doesn’t play chess or scrabble anymore … and now she’s into all that punk rock music stuff.’

‘She talked about someone called Abi. Do you know who that is?’

‘Oh, her . Yes, they hang out all the time, singing. Everyone thinks they’re going to be famous.’

‘Do you have a number for her?’

‘No. I don’t even have Liberty’s number anymore. Have you tried calling Liberty? She has a phone, doesn’t she?’

‘She doesn’t have her phone with her. I took it last night.’

‘Have you looked on her phone? For friends’ phone numbers?’

‘Her phone is locked. I don’t have the passcode. Where could she be ?’

‘I have no idea, Miss Miller. We don’t really hang out anymore. I don’t appreciate Liberty’s attitude at school, to be honest. She thinks she’s better than everyone, just because she’s in a band. We don’t have an awful lot in common.’

‘A band? Liberty’s in a band?’ Panic. Utter panic.

‘Well … yeah. Didn’t you know? They think they’re going to be like the Beatles or something. Well, not the Beatles. I don’t know what sort of music they play.’

‘I didn’t know she was in a band.’ Nausea rises again. And then I start rambling: ‘Julianne. I think … maybe Liberty’s gone to see her father.’

Julianne hesitates. ‘There’s someone I could call. One of Liberty’s bandmates. Freddy. He’s okay. He’s in chess club with me. He might know where she is.’ I can almost hear her nodding at the phone. ‘I’ll text you his number.’

Julianne hangs up and I grab an ancient packet of cigarettes from the kitchen drawer and do something I haven’t done for years – smoke.

When the text finally comes through, I’ve smoked a cigarette right down to the butt, coughing after every inhale.

God bless Julianne’s reliability. I call the number and a young guy with a cracking, adolescent voice answers.

‘Hello?’

‘Hi … Freddy? This is Lorna. Liberty’s mother.’

‘Oh.’ A long pause. ‘Liberty told me about you.’

He means ‘warned’ of course. I take the bullet.

‘Listen, Freddy. Liberty has gone. She ran away this morning.’

More silence.

‘Do you know where she might have gone?’

Freddy doesn’t answer, but I hear him breathing.

I try for a softer approach: ‘How do you and Liberty know each other anyway? She doesn’t tell me about her friends.’

‘We’re neighbours,’ says Freddy, in a voice that conveys both surprise and teenage contempt for the utter stupidity of adults.

‘We are?’

‘Yes.’

‘I can’t see the street from our house. I guess … I’ve never noticed you.’

‘I’m the brown guy.’

‘So?’

‘Well … I stand out around here, is what I’m saying.’

‘You’re in a band with Liberty?’

A pause. ‘Yes.’

‘And there’s another person in the band? Abi, right?’

‘Yes. Abi.’

‘Could she be with her?’

‘I mean … probably not.’

‘How do you know?’

Another long silence.

‘Do you know where she is?’ I feel a horrible pang as the mother-daughter elastic band of closeness snaps completely. This complete stranger knows more about my daughter’s whereabouts than I do. ‘Please, Freddy. Please, please tell me if you do. I can’t look after her if I don’t know where she is.’

More silence.

A horrible chill runs through my stomach.

‘Has she gone to see her father, Freddy?’ I ask. ‘Is that where she’s gone?’

A long pause.

‘Um …’

‘Please tell me. Please. If you don’t, I’ll have to send the police around your house and—’

‘Yes. Okay, Miss Miller. Okay. Liberty’s gone to her father’s house. So there’s no need to worry. She’s been planning the visit for a while.’

‘No need to worry!’ I scream the words.

One of us hangs up, I’m not sure who. And I’m running to the garage, hunting in my pocket for van keys. It’s only when I jump into the driver’s seat that I realize I’m about to drive somewhere I swore I’d never go back to. A place where my worst nightmares came true.

This really is happening. Liberty has fallen right into Michael’s spiderweb and I’m hurling myself into the sticky silk after her.

Until now, I could have pretended. Maybe Liberty was with friends. Maybe she’d gone jogging around the neighbourhood just to scare the life out of me. Maybe, maybe …

I swallow down fear and self-loathing as I start the van.

I’ve always hated being this controlling monster. The woman who watches her daughter’s every move. Spies on her. I’ve tried to keep Liberty safe, but it hasn’t worked. I built tall fences but he got her in the end.

I want to collapse against the steering wheel, sobbing, wailing, but I don’t. Instead I accelerate down the drive and through the automatic gates, aerosol cans and silicone body parts jogging around in the back of the van.

There is only one choice here, and it isn’t to fall apart.

I need to get my daughter back.

As I roar towards the road, Nick’s green MG turns onto the driveway.

I slam on the brakes, seeing Nick’s shocked face. Then I wind down my window.

‘Nick, can you back up?’

Nick leans his head out of the driver’s window. ‘You nearly smashed right into me.’

‘Please. Can you move? Liberty’s gone to see her father.’

‘Her father? You’re kidding.’

‘I spoke to one of her friends. Some guy she’s in a band with. She’s gone to her father’s house.’

‘Liberty’s in a band? That’s cool.’

‘Not cool, Nick. Not cool at all. Her father is in the music business.’

Nick frowns. ‘Lorna, what’s the story with this guy? Don’t you think it’s time you told me?’

‘Nick, please just move. Please.’ My eyes flick to the road. ‘I’ll tell you his name, how about that?’

‘Who cares what his name is?’

‘He’s famous. Okay? Crazy famous. Like, Grammy award-winning millionaire famous. If I tell you who he is, will you move out of my way?’

Nick grips the steering wheel. ‘If that’s the best I’m going to get right now.’

‘Liberty’s father is Michael Reyji Ray.’

‘Whoa.’ Nick stares. ‘You’re kidding me. Michael Reyji Ray ?’

‘She’s gone to his house and I’m going after her.’

‘You know where Michael Reyji Ray lives?’

‘Yes.’

‘Where?’

I hesitate. ‘Not far from here. Huntingdon Woods. He owns them.’

‘Huntingdon Woods ? But … that’s … like a half-hour drive.’

I nod, eyes looking past him.

‘Why, Lorna?’

‘Why what?’

‘You could have lived anywhere. You’re a US citizen. You could have lived in the States. But you chose to live less than thirty miles from the guy, for Christ’s sake. Why?’

‘It’s hard to explain.’

Nick’s eyes harden. ‘Try.’

‘Nick. Right now, I just need to get Liberty out of there. Will you stay here? Someone needs to stay here. In case she comes back.’

Nick’s shoulder’s sag in resignation. ‘I’ll stay. But I’m struggling to get it, seriously. Really struggling. We live so close to the guy … why not live the other side of London at least?’