Local Girl Missing by Claire Douglas Page A

… and …’
    ‘Oh, come on. We need to eat.’
    ‘Really? Well, in that case how can I say no?’ He laughs, but it sounds forced.
    ‘What’s bothering you, Dan?’
    His shoulders sag so that he appears deflated. ‘I don’t know, Franks. I’m just worried that all this –’ he throws his arms wide ‘– is for nothing. That I’ll never find out what happened to my sister.’
    ‘Daniel …’ I pause. ‘We might never know what happened to Sophie,’ I say gently. I reach out and touch his arm.
    His eyes cloud over and he shrugs my hand away. ‘No, I can’t bear that thought. I need to know, Frankie.’ His expression is pained and I suddenly have the urge to kiss away his grief.
    A thought occurs to me. ‘What happened to your mum?’ I have this mental picture of Anne in my mind,although over time it has become hazier, like a photograph that has faded with age. I’m remembering a woman in a blue nurse’s outfit, with premature lines on her face and dyed blonde hair that was always a little too harsh for her skin tone. A hard worker, a single mother, a bereaved parent.
    ‘She’s OK, considering. After Sophie went missing she moved back to Ireland to live with her sister. On the farm. Then she met Tim. He’s a good guy. They’re married now. I visit, but she’s not interested in ever coming back here. Anyway, she believes that it was a tragic accident and that Sophie slipped and fell. Just like the police do.’ He sounds sad, jaded.
    ‘Maybe that is the truth,’ I say quietly. ‘Maybe it was just a tragic accident.’
    ‘There was more to it.’
    ‘How do you know?’
    ‘Because I know –
knew
– my sister, Frankie. We were close, I
knew
her. And she wasn’t herself before she died, something was bothering her. Something was wrong. And I wish –’ he shakes his head sadly ‘– I wish that I had paid more attention at the time. But I didn’t, I was too busy with my own life. But looking back now, with hindsight, there was definitely something wrong.’
    ‘Hindsight is a wonderful thing. But you were a kid yourself, just twenty-three. And what about me? I was her best friend, and I didn’t know there was anything wrong.’
    Which isn’t strictly true.
    He sighs in answer. ‘What did Leon mean? What did they argue about?’ he asks again.
    I fidget in my seat. I can’t reveal the truth. But I need to tell him something. ‘I warned Sophie about Leon. I told her he was no good …’ I hesitate, feeling sick.
    ‘Why?’ His eyes are hard.
    ‘Because … because he came on to me, and when I turned him down he harassed me, stalked me even. He was pretty bloody scary, Dan.’
    His face darkens.
    ‘There’s more.’ I have to force the words out, I feel so ashamed.
    ‘I slept with him. Nearly a year after Sophie went missing. It was just the once, we bumped into each other. In London. We bonded, over her. I was drunk and …’
    ‘He took advantage.’
    I sigh. ‘I don’t know. We took advantage of each other, I guess.’
    Daniel turns away from me again. We both watch as the woman with the umbrella gets nearer. She has wiry grey hair and glasses. She marches in front of the car and heads towards Beaufort Villas. She’s struggling with the umbrella, as though she’s having a game of tug of war with an invisible person. She pauses outside the front door and fumbles in her bag. Could she be the anonymous letter-writer? She retrieves a key and opens the front door. She must be one of the guests downstairs. Maybe she’s the grandmother of the baby I heard screaming last night. Her eyes flicktowards us as she shakes out her umbrella and discards it on the step. Then she closes the door. A few minutes later the light in the downstairs apartment comes on.
    ‘Let’s go to the pub,’ I say. ‘We can talk about the next stage of the plan. I’ve only got a few days, remember? I can’t stay any longer than that.’
    He smiles and it transforms his face so that he’s the cheeky, happy