Stuart Harrison - Lost Summer

‘Working late I see, Adam.’

‘I thought I’d just get this done.’

Findlay glanced at the ads. There was something different about him, a kind of gleam in his eye. ‘Where is it you live, Adam? Over Brampton way somewhere isn’t it?’

‘Just outside Castleton.’

‘Aye, I thought it was. Do you know anything about the gypsies that are camping over there?’

‘I’ve seen them,’ Adam said uncertainly.

‘One of them’s gone missing. A girl. She hasnae been seen for a couple of days now. Do you ever talk to any of them?’

‘Nobody does much.’

‘No, I suppose they don’t. They’re not much liked, eh? Still, this wee lassie is a good-looking girl I’ve heard. Mebbe she just met some local lad, eh? And the two of them have eloped.’ He chuckled, but his gaze was penetrating. ‘If you hear anything, will you let me know?’

‘Alright,’ Adam said.

‘Thanks. Anyway, I expect she’ll turn up. Don’t work too late, Adam.’

In the morning the story was all over the front page of the Courier. The missing girl’s name was Meg Coucesco. There was no photograph, but the police had provided an identikit and Adam recognized her as the girl from the disco. He read the story through with growing unease. She was seventeen years old and had last been seen late on Saturday afternoon when she had left the camp alone. She had never returned. There was little detail in the story other than a description of what she’d been wearing, and a statement from the police expressing concern for her safety. A search of local land had been organized for that day involving local police and volunteers, and anyone who had visited the camp over the summer, or who knew the girl, was asked to come forward and speak to the detectives on the case. The final quote was from a unnamed senior officer who said that at this stage the actions they were taking were merely a precaution. There was always the chance that the girl had simply chosen to run away of her own accord.

Adam wondered about that. If the police thought she had run away, why were they conducting a search and asking to speak to anyone who knew her?

At the end of the day he was glad to be alone on the bus, to give him a chance to think. Whenever he’d seen Findlay around the office that day he’d done his best to avoid him, though he wasn’t sure why. He unfolded a copy of the paper he’d brought with him and stared at the picture of the missing girl. It was a good likeness though curiously expressionless, which made him think of the first time he’d seen her from the bus when she’d stared back at him through the window.

He kept thinking about the times he’d seen her near the sawmill and about the two figures he’d glimpsed vanishing among the trees on Saturday. He’d been thinking about it all day.

When he got off the bus Adam went to the sawmill. The saws were quiet and men were packing up or leaving for the day, though Nick was still working in the shed stacking freshly cut planks of pine. He found David outside the tearoom underneath the office and took him aside before he handed him the paper.

‘Have you seen this?’

He watched as David read the headline, his gaze lingering over the identikit picture of the girl. Though he frowned slightly he didn’t react in any other way.

‘The police want to talk to anyone who knows her.’

David regarded him blankly. ‘What of it?’

‘Shouldn’t you talk to them?’

They could hear David’s father talking on the phone through the open door at the top of the stairs. David lowered his voice.

‘Me? Why me?’

‘Well, you talked to her that night at the disco.’

‘Adam, I spoke to her for about a minute. That’s all. I don’t know her.’

Adam experienced a sense of relief. What had he thought anyway? It must have been somebody else he’d seen in the trees with Meg.

Just then Nick came over from the shed. He looked curiously from one to the other. ‘What’s up?’

David handed him the paper and after he’d read the headlines he glanced at David and gave it back. There was something in his expression that Adam couldn’t put his finger on.

‘So?’

The question was directed towards Adam. Suddenly his relief evaporated, though he wasn’t sure why. ‘I’ve seen her a couple of times,’ he said. ‘In the trees across the river. I got the impression she was waiting for someone.’

‘What if she was?’

He didn’t know how to answer. ‘I’m pretty sure I saw her there on Saturday. She was with somebody.’

Nobody spoke. The silence seemed to press down on Adam like a heavy weight.

‘Did you see who it was?’ David asked finally.

There was something faintly challenging about his tone. ‘Not really. I mean I’m not sure. I thought I did, but …’ Adam broke off. He was struck by the way Nick was looking at him. That same old sneer.

‘But what?’ David said.

Something clicked in his brain. All of a sudden he was certain that it was David he’d seen. ‘Nothing.’ Adam met his eye. ‘Nothing, I don’t know who it was.’

The story about the missing girl remained on the front page for the rest of the week. Findlay wrote a feature about the gypsy way of life which delved into the historical roots of Romany travellers and the suspicion and distrust they encountered wherever they went. The evidence that they were involved in petty crime was indisputable but some of the other things gypsies were accused of such as illegal prostitution and gambling, along with many of the more lurid myths like baby stealing, were less common and in some cases had probably never been true.

As the days passed and despite massive searches there was no sign of Meg Coucesco. The Courier reported the police speculation that she had merely run away. Adam read each report with increasing unease. He kept replaying the scene in the yard with David and Nick when he’d felt compelled to deny what he’d seen. Though he asked himself why he’d done it he already knew the answer. It was for the same reason that he hadn’t asked David since then to explain himself. He wanted to show David that he trusted him, that he could be trusted in return, as much as Nick. Even more.

As the days passed he found himself facing a dilemma. He knew he ought to persuade David to go to the police because he must know something about Meg Coucesco’s disappearance. He didn’t believe that David had done anything to hurt her, but the problem was whenever he decided to talk to David he always found Nick around, and anyway as each day went by he became less certain about what he’d seen. Sometimes he thought he had glimpsed David’s face, if only for a moment, and at other times he was sure he hadn’t seen anything more than a tall, indistinct shape. The fact that David seemed completely normal and utterly untroubled only added to his self-doubt. David, in fact, took little interest in the story.

One evening he questioned Angela about what she remembered. ‘When we were out by the river on Saturday, did you see anything in the trees across from the sawmill?’

She looked mystified. ‘Like what?’

‘I don’t know. Anything. I thought I saw somebody.’

‘You didn’t say anything. Who was it?’

‘I don’t know. It was probably nothing.’

The day afterwards at work he caught Findlay watching him thoughtfully and when he had to deliver some copy to the pub where Findlay was again ensconced, the reporter took it without even a glance and gestured to a chair.

‘Why don’t you sit down, Adam?’

He wanted to refuse but didn’t see how he could. Findlay lit a cigarette and studied him through a haze of smoke.

‘Would you like a drink of something?’

‘No thanks. I have to get back.’