Stuart Harrison - Lost Summer

The first houses on the edge of the village were around the bend several hundred yards away. The railway station was in the next town, where Liz had caught the train to Euston. Mr and Mrs Thomas lived in Cloud Cottage with their three children. Liz had been their baby-sitter until a year earlier, a piece of information Adam had only stumbled across when he’d asked Liz’s father, Paul Mount, to go to the station with him a couple of mornings in a row on the very long shot that he would see something or somebody that would open up a new avenue in what had become a fruitless search.

On the second morning Paul had nodded to a middle-aged man in a suit. ‘Alan Thomas. He works in the City I think. Liz used to baby-sit for them.’

What was it about Thomas that had triggered some kind of internal alarm? He was just another business commuter like hundreds of others. Nothing to mark him out from anybody else, but discreet questioning had revealed that Liz had stopped baby-sitting for the Thomases a year ago. Why?

‘I don’t know really,’ Paul Mount had said. ‘I think it was a bit far and they were often out late.’

Adam had moved into the village pub, which was called the Crown, and for several days had been quietly digging and watching. He knew Alan Thomas caught the seven-thirty-two most days, but sometimes he went in late or not at all. His wife was on the plain side but well groomed. She didn’t have any close friends in the village, which wasn’t unusual for incomers like the Thomases. They tended to socialize with other people like themselves from the country club up the road. Their children attended private schools.

Adam had learned that the police hadn’t interviewed the Thomases. There was no reason to. In the morning he went back to the station and watched the other people who boarded the seven-thirty-two. There was a young woman whom Thomas seemed to know. Adam followed her to her office in the City and after work introduced himself. He said he was a journalist and wondered if she had time for a drink.

‘Adam Turner?’ Her brow furrowed and then her eyes lit up with recognition. ‘I’ve read something of yours.’

Minor fame had its uses. In a wine bar near the station she answered his questions. He didn’t expect her to remember the day Liz had vanished, but in fact she did. Such strokes of fortune happened occasionally and he accepted them as his share of luck. Dig deep enough and often enough and sooner or later something has to fall into place, and he was nothing if not diligent. He hadn’t been home for a week.

‘Actually, it was my birthday,’ she said, as she sipped a Côte de Rhone. ‘So I went in late that day. I caught the nine o’clock. Wasn’t that the one this girl was supposed to be on?’

‘Yes. Did you see her?’

She shook her head. ‘If I did I don’t remember. I sat next to Alan.’

‘Alan Thomas?’

‘Do you know him?’

‘Not really. He was on the same train?’

‘Yes. I remember he said he was running late because his wife was away and he couldn’t cope without her or something. He made a joke of it. Anyway he promised to buy me a drink after work, but he never turned up. Actually, I was glad.’

‘Why?’

She hesitated. ‘It’s just that his wife was away, and you know, I wondered if he was making a pass. He didn’t actually say anything suggestive or anything. I’m probably being completely unfair.’

‘But something made you uncomfortable?’

‘A little I suppose.’

‘Intuition.’

She shrugged. ‘Perhaps.’

But Alan Thomas had sat with her all the way to London, she was positive of that. Had she seen him again after they left the train? She hadn’t. Who was to say he hadn’t bumped into Liz on the platform?

The next day he went back to London and when he arrived home Louise told him that Morris had phoned. ‘You didn’t cancel your appointment,’ she said. Her arms were folded, a wine glass in one hand.

‘I forgot. I’ll call him tomorrow.’

‘Will you make another time to see him?’

‘I don’t know. I think I’m on to something with the Liz Mount story. I might have to put Morris off for a little while.’

‘Christ!’

She slammed her glass down on the counter.

‘Look, it’s just temporarily,’ he said.

‘Right. Your bloody work comes first. Again!’

‘Come on, Louise,’ he said, and reached for her arm as she swept past.

‘Don’t touch me!’ she yelled, yanking free. ‘Just leave me alone!’

‘It’s not a case of my work coming first, dammit. This girl …’

‘I don’t want to hear about her! I don’t want to hear about any of it. There’s always some girl, some parent, somebody. Anybody except me! Where do I come in, Adam? Tell me that. Where do I come into your list of bloody priorities?’

‘That isn’t fair,’ he started to say, but she shook her head and turned away. He watched her go, heard the slam of the bedroom door.

Out of guilt Adam called Morris and made an appointment for two days’ time. When he arrived at the door he suddenly wondered if there was really any point going inside. That morning he and Louise had argued again. Nothing unusual about that, but it had quickly become a bitter fight. Things had been said by both of them that wouldn’t easily be forgotten. The kind of barbed remarks that are designed to inflict maximum damage. He didn’t think she deserved that. He didn’t either for that matter. By the time he’d left the house they’d both been ashamed to look one another in the eye, and anger had been replaced with the dull knowledge that perhaps this was hopeless.

Deep down, however, Adam knew that Louise’s anger stemmed from her frustration with him and he felt badly about that. In the end he kept his appointment and presently found himself at the window while Morris sat behind him, his fingers steepled beneath his chin.

‘During our last session you were telling me about Castleton. You mentioned that you felt lonely when you moved there.’

Adam turned around. He’d been thinking about Liz Mount, wondering what his next move ought to be. ‘It got better after I started school.’

‘The boy you had the fight with went to the same school didn’t you say?’

‘Yes. His name was David Johnson. Nick and Graham, the other two who were there that day, went to the local comprehensive. David and I got to know each other. We ended up being friends.’

‘So, you felt accepted after that?’

‘Not exactly. Sometimes.’

When he looked back now, Adam didn’t think he’d ever felt accepted. Maybe if it had just been David, or even David and Graham it would have been okay. But Nick had never liked him. He tried to explain.

‘Graham was fairly easy-going. A follower I suppose. But when I came along Nick resented me. It didn’t help that David and I both went to the grammar school. David’s dad owned the local sawmill which had the contract for the wood on the estate, so he and Kyle had a lot to do with each other as well.’

‘Nick was jealous?’

‘Probably.’

‘And what was the effect of that?’

‘I think David felt caught in the middle sometimes.’

He recalled a time when they had arranged to go rabbiting. It was early and the town was quiet. They had arranged to meet at the church. Graham and David arrived a few minutes after Adam, but quarter of an hour later there was still no sign of Nick.

‘Why don’t we ring him?’ Adam suggested. There was a phone box on the other side of the square.

‘They haven’t got a phone,’ Graham said.

‘Let’s go to his house then. He might have slept in or something.’

‘It’s best if we wait,’ David said. ‘He’ll come when he can.’ He started idly scuffing his feet along the path between the gravestones while Graham began examining the palms of his hands.