Perfect People

15.11 INTERNATIONAL

A shiver rippled through her.

It felt as if some terrible ghostly tendril had reached out across the Atlantic and gripped her soul.

Am I speaking with Mrs Naomi Klaesson?

Who the hell are you? What did you want?

Disciples? Disciples of the Third Millennium?

Hurrying back to the hall, she grabbed the car keys, ran out of the front door, pressed the central locking button, ran over to the car and pulled the rear door open.

Luke and Phoebe weren’t there.

For an instant, time stopped. She stared dumbly at the empty child seats. Then, terror-stricken, she looked round, eyes darting everywhere, at the barn with the double garage doors, at the house, at the shrubs swaying crazily. ‘Luke!’ she screamed. ‘Phoebe!’

Rain pelted down on her.

‘LUKE!’ she screamed again, louder, even more panicky. ‘PHOEBE! LUKE! PHOEBE!’

She ran over to the cattle grid and stared down the long expanse of empty driveway. A white plastic bag flapped, trapped in brambles in the hedgerow. No sign of either of them. She turned in despair back towards the house. ‘LUKE! PHOEBE!’

She ran, stumbling, down the side of the house, then all the way around on the wet, boggy grass, screaming out their names.

Then she stood, frozen with fear, soaking wet, by the back door to the kitchen.

They had vanished.

‘Please, God, no, don’t do this to me. Where are they? Please, where are they?’

She ran back into the house. The phone was ringing. She dived into John’s study and grabbed the receiver. ‘Yeshallo?’

It was John.

‘They’ve vanished!’ she shouted at him. ‘I had a call from someone and they’ve vanished. Oh Christ-’

‘Hon? What do you mean? Vanished?’

‘THEY’VE VANISHED, JOHN, THEY’VE FUCKING VANISHED. I LEFT THEM IN THE CAR OUTSIDE THE HOUSE – OH GOD-’

‘Naomi, hon, tell me, what do you mean? What do you mean, they’ve vanished?’

‘THEY’VE DISAPPEARED, YOU STUPID MAN, THAT’S WHAT I MEAN. VANISHED. SOMEONE’S TAKEN THEM.’

‘Someone’s taken them? Are you sure?’

‘I don’t know. They’ve vanished.’

‘When? Where – I mean – where have you looked?’

‘EVERYWHERE!’

‘Have you looked in the house?’

‘THEY WERE OUTSIDE IN THE CAR, FOR GOD’S SAKE!’

‘Check the house. Have you checked the house?’

‘Noooo,’ she sobbed.

‘Naomi, darling, check the house. Have a look around the house. I’ll stay on the line. Just check all the rooms.’

She ran into the drawing room. Then upstairs along the corridor, water running down her face. Their bedroom door was closed. She pushed it open, and stopped in her tracks.

Luke and Phoebe were sitting contentedly on the floor, absorbed in a tower they were building from Lego bricks.

She stared at them with a mixture of relief and total disbelief.

‘I – I’ve – found them,’ she said. ‘They’re OK. I’ve found them.’

‘They OK?’

Backing out of the room she said, quietly, ‘Fine. They’re fine.’

‘Where were they?’

Feeling confused, foolish, she said nothing. Had she brought them in, taken them to her room and forgotten?

No way.

‘Where were they, hon?’

‘In their room,’ she snapped. ‘In their bloody room.’

‘Are they all right?’

‘Luke and Phoebe? Oh yes, John, they’re fine, they’re absolutely fine. They’ve been thrown out of playschool, now they know how to get out of my car all by themselves, and they refuse to say a bloody word to me. If that’s how you define all right, then yes, they are all right. Our designer babies are all right. They’ve obviously been born with all right genes.’

‘I’m cancelling my meeting and coming home, hon. I’ll be there in half an hour.’

‘Go to your meeting. Don’t cancel that. We have enough problems. Go to your meeting.’

‘I can come straight home.’

‘Go to your bloody meeting, John!’ she shouted. ‘Your children don’t need you. They don’t need me. They don’t need anyone.’