The Janus Stone

CHAPTER 30

Nelson is running, faster than he has ever run in his life. Twice in his police career his life has been in danger and, even at the time, he’d been quite pleased at how he’d handled this. The knowledge that he might have been about to die had sharpened his reactions, made them cold and precise. He had not been scared so much as angry and determined not to let the perpetrators get away with it. But this, this is something else altogether. His heart is leaping in his chest, huge shuddering movements that make him feel sick and dizzy. He lurches as he runs, coordination shot, breath coming in shallow, painful spasms. His daughter. Someone is going to hurt one of his daughters. It is as if they have already cut out his heart.

He reaches his car and looks at his watch. Three thirty. Think. Focus. He forces himself to take deeper breaths, gripping the steering wheel. Like this, he is no good to anyone. Where should Laura and Rebecca be at three thirty? Just leaving school. If he hurries, he can be there in five minutes.

If he hurries… Nelson leaves a trail of bemused and terrified road users behind him as he drives, mostly on the wrong side of the road, to the girls’ school on the outskirts of King’s Lynn. The siren is blaring and he barely slows down for anything, red lights, junctions, pedestrians, anything. Finally, he screeches to a halt beside the school, mounting the kerb, scraping the side of the car against the wall.

The rain has stopped and teenage girls are pouring out of the school gates, all wearing purple sweatshirts and short black skirts. His heart leaps every time he sees a girl with long brown hair but there are so many of them, so many slim girls with minuscule skirts and long, wavy hair, but not one of them is his. His heart pounds harder than ever and he can hear himself making a moaning sound under his breath, almost a whimper. Please God, he prays madly to the God whom he has ignored for most of his adult life, please God make them be all right.

And then, in a knot of purple sweatshirts, he sees Paige, Rebecca’s best friend, ambling along without a care in the world, chatting to a plump girl with hair dyed a virulent pink.

‘Paige!’ Nelson’s bellow makes every head turn in his direction. ‘Paige!’

He races up to her, grabbing her arm. He is aware how mad he must look. Rebecca’s nice, respectable father, a policeman, who is popular amongst the girls for his bad karaoke turns and his willingness to offer lifts, turning into this raving lunatic with staring eyes and trembling hands.

‘Paige! Where’s Rebecca?’

Paige backs away, staring. She seems incapable of speech. Her mouth hangs open and he can see the gum inside it. He is suddenly filled with a murderous rage that this girl, this imbecile, should be safe while his darling daughters are in danger.

‘Where’s Rebecca?’ he repeats, trying to make his voice calmer.

‘I dunno. She’s got an after-school club, I think…’ She is still backing away, her eyes round. Nelson closes his eyes, trying to still the demons inside him. Unexpectedly, the pink-haired girl comes to his aid.

‘Drama club,’ she says brightly. ‘They’re doing Fiddler on the Roof. Room C9, Block 3.’

Nelson is running again before she has finished speaking. Sliding over the wet turf of the playing field, scattering a game of hockey (‘Look out!’), crashing through the main doors to Block 3. Christ, why do schools have so many doors? He runs through endless corridors, door after door banging behind him. He shouts ‘Rebecca!’ and the sound bounces off the glass and plasterboard and a photo-montage of ‘School Journey 2007’. Room C9, the girl had said. Maddeningly, the rooms do not seem to be in any order: A12, B1, B7, D15. He stops and starts to double back, heart pounding harder than ever. He grabs a passing arm, ‘C9,’ he pants. The owner of the arm, a middle-aged man, looks uneasy.

‘Who are you?’

‘Rebecca Nelson’s father. Where is she?’

And then, behind the man’s corduroy back, he sees a door miraculously labelled ‘C9’. Thrusting the man to one side, he launches himself through it.

The large room contains a makeshift stage, a hassled-looking teacher, a few gum-chewing girls and, wonder of wonders, miracle of miracles, his daughter. Ignoring everyone, Nelson enfolds the outraged Rebecca in a fierce hug.

‘Thank God. Thank God.’

‘Dad! Get off!’

‘Rebecca,’ he holds her at arm’s length, ‘where’s Laura? Where’s your sister?’ If anything happens to Laura, he will always feel guilty that he came to find Rebecca first.

‘I’ve got no idea. Dad! Let me go! What are you playing at?’

‘We’re going home.’

‘I don’t want to go home. I’m playing Tzeitel.’

‘Come on.’

Without letting go of Rebecca’s arm, he shouts ‘Sorry’ to the now frankly terrified teacher and propels them both out of the room.

In the corridor, he stabs Laura’s number into his phone. Straight through to answerphone. He tries again, hardly noticing the four missed calls from Judy Johnson. He looks at his watch. Four o’clock. Michelle won’t be home before six. Where is Laura? His darling eldest daughter, so correct and well-behaved always (like one of the girls in Little Women, Michelle used to say). Where can she be?

‘Does Laura go to any clubs on a Thursday?’

‘I dunno.’

‘Keep ringing her,’ Nelson thrusts his phone into Rebecca’s hand, ‘we’re going home.’

Ignoring Rebecca’s litany of complaints, threats and slurs on his parenting (he’s had plenty of practice), Nelson drags her back through the school and across the now deserted playing field to the place where his car is rammed up against the wall.

‘Dad! Your car!’ For the first time, Rebecca sounds shocked.

‘Keep phoning.’

Laura will have gone home. It’s not unlike her to get home first, put the kettle on and cook supper for everyone. An angel, that’s what she is. Nelson’s eyes are wet when he thinks what an angel his eldest daughter is. Rebecca has always been the rebellious one and, besides, Rebecca is sitting beside him, safe and sound, so he doesn’t need to sanctify her. But Laura, Laura is out there somewhere with a madman on her trail. Perhaps he has already found her, perhaps he has… Nelson rams his foot down on the accelerator.

‘Dad! Are you trying to kill us?’

‘Keep phoning.’

He takes the turn into the drive on two wheels. Michelle’s car isn’t there but then he wouldn’t expect her to be home yet. Will she kill him for not phoning her first? No, Michelle would want him to do what he is doing – save their daughters’ lives.

‘Laura!’ yells Nelson, bursting in through the front door.

A silence during which Nelson thinks that he can hear his heart breaking. And then, a faint noise, like a rat scrabbling, directly overhead.

‘Laura?’ Nelson starts to climb the stairs.

‘Dad! Don’t!’ Rebecca grabs his arm. He looks at her, uncomprehending. He tries to shake Rebecca off and, as he does so, notices two things: Laura’s flowery backpack lying beside the front door and a pair of man-size trainers next to it.

‘Dad?’

And there is Laura at the top of the stairs. Not dead but gloriously alive, wearing a dressing gown tightly belted around her waist.

‘Laura! Sweetheart!’ He bounds upstairs to hug her. She’s safe. Thank God, she’s safe. Thank you God. I’ll go to mass next Sunday. She’s alive. They’re both alive… A dressing gown?

He loosens his grip, takes in Laura’s dishevelled appearance, Rebecca’s attempts to make herself invisible, the scuffling sounds still emanating from one of the upstairs rooms. Quick as thought, he kicks open the door to Laura’s bedroom.

And finds a youth, half-dressed, trying to climb out of the window.