Our Father Who Are Out There...Somewhere (17 page)

“What time is it now?” Lily quickly asks.

Fiona turns another page. “Hey. You’ve got dad down as a headmaster. He’s not the headmaster, he’s only a maths teacher. He isn’t career focussed. Well, that’s what he says. Mum says he lacks ambition and he’s just lazy.”

Jo stands on the settee and snatches the notebook out of Fiona’s hands. “Right, we’ve only got an hour. Let’s go through it one more time.”

Fiona groans and resumes pacing.

They don’t know it but Fiona’s father hasn’t been to work since he got the ransom note yesterday morning. When the note came, he had rung both his school and Fiona’s and told them his daughter was ill and neither of them would be in for the rest of the week. His third phone call had been to the police. He’d told them that a friend of Fiona’s had been in touch and Fiona was with her. He told them he was certain Fiona would come home of her own accord in the next day or so. They had asked him if he wanted them to go and have a word with this friend and he had said no and apologised for troubling them. He figured that even if this wasn’t what he thought it was, he could tell the police he’d been obeying the kidnappers’ orders.

Ruth, his wife, had stayed at the office the night Fiona went missing; something she often did in the lead up to a big trial. He hadn’t troubled her with the news that her daughter hadn’t come home from school; just as he hadn’t bothered her with the news that the Salvation Army had contacted him a few weeks ago. Nor had he mentioned that over the last couple of weeks, on three separate occasions, he had thought he was being followed by two young women; one with dreadlocks.

On Thursday morning, yesterday, his fourth phone call had been to his wife. “I just thought you should know Fiona and I have had words and she’s gone to stay with Caroline for a few days.” Caroline was Fiona’s best friend. All Ruth had said, before asking whether the dry cleaning had been delivered, was “Well, that’s been brewing for some time.”

As he makes himself a cup of tea, he calms himself with the idea that if Fiona has been kidnapped by real kidnappers, he can always claim he didn’t want her to worry. But what real kidnappers demand eighty five thousand pounds?

David is the one that takes care of Fiona. That’s his job. Ruth hadn’t said anything, but David was pretty sure their marriage had been heading for the divorce courts, until Ruth had found out she was pregnant with Fiona. It had been a difficult two years, just the two of them. Fiona had saved his marriage. Given him a purpose in Ruth’s eyes. He had taken such great care of his wife when she was pregnant, cooking for her, massaging her feet when she got in from work. Ruth was 40 years old when Fiona was born. He had given up his job so that Ruth could return to work less than six weeks after the birth. Admittedly it hadn’t been much of a sacrifice, he was working as a bank clerk at the time, but Ruth had been grateful that there was no impediment to her returning to work.

 He had made himself essential to Ruth’s life. Making sure there was always a warm meal to come home to, no matter what time she finished work, running her warm baths, fetching her drinks, anything so that he could be with his daughter.

If it had been up to David, he would have spent the next ten years listening to Woman’s Hour and baking bread, but once Fiona had started at school, expectations had been raised. So he had convinced Ruth that he should take a teacher training course, so that they wouldn’t have the problem of what to do with Fiona in the school holidays and after school.

He sits at his desk in his study and takes out the letter he’s hidden in a pile of school-books. His hand hovers over the receiver for a few seconds before he snatches it up. “Hello. May I please speak to Major Farley-Greystone?”

The phone goes quiet while the voice at the end goes off in search of the Major. David tries to frame the questions in his mind. ‘Did you speak to (he still doesn’t really know what to call her) a Miss Lily Appleyard? My daughter?’

‘How did she take my hurried, unthinking, panic-stricken rejection?’ 

‘Did she sound cross? Cross enough to kidnap my other daughter?’ He replaces the receiver before anyone returns to the phone.

He opens the suitcase and looks at the neat bundles of money all lined up. It was absurdly easy to get hold of it. He had made one telephone call to their financial advisor and asked if he had any policy that could be cashed in without Ruth knowing. He’d told him he wanted to organise a surprise for Christmas. The financial advisor didn’t even question what on earth he would buy his wife that cost eighty five thousand pounds. Instead he had rung him back five minutes later to tell him they had a couple of bonds that Ruth had bought when they were first married that required only one signature.

“So, what I just go to the bank and pick it up?”

 “I’ll ring them. They’ll want 24 hours. It should be ready first thing tomorrow morning.”

So, this morning he had left for work as normal, but gone straight to the main branch of the Nat West, which they’d opened specially for him at 8.30, and picked up the suitcase. Just like that. He’d thought he’d got used to their wealth but when the cashier had handed it to him, he had to fight the urge to say, “It’s not mine you know. This is more than I earn in five years.”

David looks at the money again. Will this make it all go away? That is the question. If he does as they ask, will she return his beloved daughter, the one he didn’t screw up on, undamaged, unknowing to him and leave his family alone? Ruth won’t be back until late tonight and she’s leaving for London on Sunday morning so if he can just get her through another day, then he has some breathing space. He knows his wife is pleased at this perceived falling out, between father and daughter. She’s been telling him for years that their relationship is too intense.

At three o’clock Jo, Fiona and Lily climb into the Mini and start to drive; their sole mission to find a phone box somewhere that isn’t Lancaster. They arrive in Morecambe by chance; no one really concentrating on where they are headed. Jo parks the car round the corner from a telephone box and they all take a moment to hold hands.

At seven minutes past four, Fiona’s trembling fingers dial the number she knows so well. Her father answers it on the second ring. “Daddy, is that you? Oh, Daddy.”

Fiona’s sobs are loud and noisy, real tears surprising her at the sound of his voice. They fall down her face and into the receiver, making the sound of her voice distort. “I miss you, I want to come home, Ouch…” Fiona screams, as Jo pulls a handful of her hair as rehearsed; to add some realism to the occasion. “They’ve told me to tell you they won’t let me go until you’ve paid them the money. No wait,” Lily pulls her roughly away from the receiver, as she shouts, “I love you, Daddy.”

Jo holds one of Stuart’s socks over the mouthpiece and growls down the phone. “Have you got the money?”

“What are you doing to my daughter?”

“I said have you got the money?”

“Yes, but it hasn’t been easy. Don’t think that I can just keep…” 

“We’ll ring tomorrow. No police.”

She bangs down the phone.

Jo looks at the stopwatch: 1 minute 50 seconds. She locks eyes with Fiona and a great snort of laughter erupts from them both.

“No police, Slam. It was like ‘Hill Street Blues’,” says Fiona eventually. She wipes her eyes and starts to laugh.

“He’s got the money!” Jo screams.

“Can you believe they turned me down for Sandy in
Grease
?” Fiona asks. “Blummin’ Janet Jeffries got the part. They only gave it to her because she’s blonde… and utterly gorgeous,” she adds as an afterthought. Tears begin to stream down her face again, as she tries to stop laughing long enough to get out her final sentence, “Shame she’s stupid.”

“You were great,” says Jo, her legs crossed to stop herself wetting herself with laughter. “‘I love you, Daddy’ Fan-fucking-tastic.”

Lily wishes she could share the funny side. She doesn’t want to admit it, but she’s starting to feel something like sympathy for Fiona’s dad. She’s not sure why. Squashed between the metal box of the telephone and the door, she pulls a face, which Jo mistakenly interprets as a request for a spliff. Jo pulls a ready rolled one out of her bag.

“Do you know what he said to me? ‘Don’t worry baby, Daddy will sort it all out.’ It’s like I’m twelve.”

Lily frowns as Jo lights the spliff.

“We should have asked for more money. I wonder what the average kidnap demand is these days. Shall I ring the police and ask?” Fiona picks up the receiver and pretends to dial. “Yeah hi, can you tell me… what’s a white, middle-class schoolgirl go for these days?”

“He’s got the money.” Jo blows a cloud of smoke at the ceiling. “Can you believe it? We might actually get eighty-five grand out of this. I might actually be able to pay off my debts.” She looks over to Lily, her eyes dancing with excitement. “We could go on holiday.”

Lily tries to smile. “Holiday?” Now there’s something she hasn’t considered. “Where?”

“I don’t know, anywhere. We could travel the world.”

“Can I come too? I’ve always wanted to go travelling,” says Fiona. “I was hoping to go to San Francisco in my gap year.”

“You’ve got your exams. Once you’ve passed them and done your ‘A’ levels maybe.” Lily pushes the phone box door open a few inches with her bottom. The cold fresh air wraps around her waist, making her stomach ache worse.

Fiona cocks her head to one side. “I’m not going back, you do realise that don’t you? I mean even if we get the money.”

“Don’t be stupid.” Lily shakes her head as Jo offers her the spliff.

“Don’t you be stupid. What did you think was going to happen? You kidnap me, tell me my whole family has lied to me all my life, collect eighty-five thousand pounds and then I just go back and live there like nothing’s happened? Everything has changed; I’ve grown up.”

Jo winks at her. “We know you have.”

“I don’t mean like that. For your information, we didn’t even do it. We just stayed up all night talking. We talked about me moving here, getting a job. What am I doing at school anyway? All the subjects I’m doing: biology, chemistry, physics, Mum chose for me. She thinks there should be more women scientists.” Fiona hesitates before adding, “Women are terribly under-represented in the field.” The telephone box is filling with smoke. “But it’s not me.”

Lily feels like the walls are closing in.

“I want to drop out and go to beauty school… joke.” Fiona adds, when she sees the expression on Lily’s face. “But drama school maybe. Come on, you didn’t think you could just pluck me out of my life for a couple of days and then send me straight back to it, untouched.”

Lily starts picking at the scab on her arm.

“Did you?”

“Is it foggy out?” asks Jo.

Lily wrests the spliff from Jo’s lips, hitting her elbow on the metal shelf as she does so; catching herself right on her funny bone. She rubs her arm and pushes at the door of the phone box. “Let’s get out of here.”

“I feel like Superman. Where are my tights?” Fiona starts to giggle. She tries to speak, but whatever she wants to say gets lost. She crosses her legs and bends double, screeching with laughter. Lily pushes her out of the telephone kiosk. Fiona gulps some fresh air and tries to stand up. “I think I’ve just become a dope smoker. Will you make one for me? I feel fabulous.”

Jo sits down on the bench outside the kiosk and starts unloading the tobacco packet, her dope tin and cigarette papers out of her bag.

“Stop it,” says Lily.

“What? She wants a spliff. ‘TIFF’ wants a spliff.”

“She’s only fifteen.”

“I’m nearly sixteen.”

“Oh I am sorry,” says Jo. “And how old were you when you had your first one?”

Lily thinks for a moment. Her automatic response is that she was older than Fiona, but thinking about it, she’d been eleven. Dave Marsh had given it to her, telling her it was a roll up. It was the same evening she’d got pissed for the first time, up at the ramshackle garages, where cars weren’t so much parked as abandoned. Most of the estate’s young teenagers hung out there, before graduating to the Dog and Duck. “That’s not the point, its illegal.”

“It’s illegal for you to do it too,” says Jo, not unreasonably. “And I’m not sure kidnapping, or demanding money with menaces is exactly law abiding either. What’s up with you?”

“Let’s just get back to the flat. You can’t skin up here anyway. Someone might come.”

Jo looks up the deserted back alleyway. The Mini is parked at the top of the street. They haven’t seen a soul since they arrived.

 “Come on.” Lily marches on ahead, to the car.

Jo shrugs her shoulders and puts the tobacco packet back into her bag. Fiona holds out a hand and helps Jo to her feet. They follow Lily up the cobbled back street, Fiona’s giggles periodically erupting, like snorts, punctuating the silence.

Lily doesn’t speak all the way back to the flat. As Fiona lets them in with the spare key Stuart gave her, Lily realises how tired she is. She starts to say that she’s going to go straight to bed, when Stuart appears at the top of the stairs. “I was expecting you ages ago. What happened?”

“He’s got the money,” says Fiona as she takes off her boots. “Mmmm, that smells delicious, what is it?”

“Really, he actually said he’s going to pay?”

“I was so nervous, but I did it. You should have heard me, ‘Daddy, Daddy, please rescue me.’ I was great.” Fiona leads the way up the narrow staircase into the hallway where Stuart stands, his bare feet poking out from the bottom of his soft blue jeans. She stands on tiptoe to kiss him.

“Modest too,” says Jo, pushing open the kitchen door, her nose following the smell like the ‘Bisto’ kid. The others follow.

Fiona takes a seat at the kitchen table. “We said, well Jo said, we’d ring him tomorrow. We need a plan. I’m starving. Have you got a map?”

Stuart puts a plate in front of her and smiles as she grabs a knife and fork. He gestures at Lily and Jo to do the same. Jo doesn’t need asking twice. Lily sits down next to Jo and watches Jo remove a piece of chewing gum, before picking up a fork. Lily looks up at Stuart. “What is it?”