Towers of Silence

Chapter Thirty One

It was warm in bed. It was cold out there. I didn’t want to move. Just give me five, ten, fifty more minutes, a couple of hours, the morning.

I didn’t want to have to chivvy the kids to get dressed, unearth their book bags, brush teeth. I didn’t want to make packed lunches and sort out PE kits, make toast, find Tom’s missing glove, pump up the back wheel on my bicycle, set off for school, return to find Maddie’s forgotten recorder, set off for school take two, deposit children, coats, scarves and bags in the correct classrooms.

But I did.

I’d brought my bike because it was neither snowing, raining nor sleeting and the distances between my various places of work were in the couple of miles league. Doing my bit for the environment.

First call was Susan Reeve. I asked to put my bike round the back and she went to open the back gate. The garden was a tip. Obviously no one had kept it tidy for ages; dead weeds stood waist high and an old mattress lay rotting alongside the skeleton of last years Christmas tree. What a shame, I thought, not just the gardener in me but also the parent. Four kids and a garden going to waste.

I accepted a cup of coffee and then recounted the trek Adam had made.

She listened attentively and shook her head in bewilderment as I finished.

“Why knock at first but not later?”

“I don’t know. You’ve not been able to think of any connection?”

“No.”

“Any estranged relatives?” I said. “People Adam might have looked up?”

“No.”

“Mrs Reeve, this might sound like a silly question, but is Adam adopted?”

“What?” she said incredulously. “Adopted? No. Whatever gave you that idea?”

Oh, well. Worth a try. “It could have been a possible explanation, for his behaviour, if he was tracing family…”

“No,” she said. “Besides, I’d have told you.”

“Like I said – silly question. But I had to check. Some people keep it a secret, even from the children. So, what did your husband say about York?”

“I… ” She looked uncomfortable, mouth half open but no suitable words. “He wouldn’t know anyone.”

“You didn’t ask him?”

She played with her mug, her fingers dancing lightly round the rim. She sighed. “No.”

“Why not?”

“He doesn’t know?”

I frowned. “What doesn’t he know.”

“About you,” she went pink.

“Oh. I just assumed…” Too much obviously. “Why?”

She tucked her chin in, looked down at the mug in her hands. “The money. Things are very… difficult. The building society are talking about repossession. We’ve only been able to pay the interest for the last six months. Ken’s work, most of it’s commission, sales have been right down. He’s worried sick. I couldn’t… he’d never have agreed.”

I felt sick. She was up to her ears in debt, they were about to lose their home yet she’d hired me. What was I supposed to do now? I couldn’t afford to reduce my fees and I felt cross at being put in this awkward position.

“But Ken won’t know about anyone in York, really. I’m the one who keeps in touch with people, does all the Christmas cards, that sort of thing. He’s so busy with work. I can’t remember the last time he socialised with anyone.”

“In the contract…” I began, still weighing up money and time.

“Have you done the two days?” she said with dismay.

“Almost; there’s a couple of hours or so left.”

“Only I was thinking last night, if you could find out who lives in that house, it must mean something. If we knew who the people were then I could perhaps get in touch myself. See if they knew Adam. Like you said, some people have to do it themselves. I’d try asking him first. Probably tell him I knew he’d been to York but it would be easier if we had their names.”

“I can do that,” I said. “And as for the money you can pay me in instalments. I think finding out who lives in the house is the next logical step. Yesterday, just before he left to come home, Adam was very upset. He was crying.”

“Crying?” Her face creased with emotion.

“Yes. We still don’t know why Adam is so unhappy. You said before he wouldn’t go to the doctor?”

“Our GP isn’t the most approachable man I can think of.”

Maybe she should change her GP then.

“Is he eating all right, at home?”

“He’s a bit fussy… why?”

“He didn’t have anything all day yesterday, maybe he didn’t have enough money with him, or it could be another problem.”

“Oh, dear. I just wish he’d talk to me,” she said with feeling. “All I want to do is help.”

“You said Adam had friends before he moved into sixth form?”

“Well, it was Colin really. Colin Fairbrother. Adam’s never been one for a big gang or anything but he and Colin spent time at each other’s houses, saw each other out of school.”

“And did Colin leave?”

“Oh no. He’s in the college too but we’ve not seen him this term. They seem to have drifted apart.”

“Perhaps you could suggest to Adam that he invites him round. A friend might help.”

She smiled a little sadly. “Anything I suggest will be ignored. I will try and I’ll mention the doctor again but…”

“What did he say last night?”

“Said he’d been out and it wasn’t that late and to stop treating him like a kid. Then he stormed upstairs. Least he didn’t spin me a load of lies.”

“Why, though?” I was puzzled. “If he’s not prepared to tell you what he’s up to, where he goes, why he’s started acting like this, then he’s obviously hiding something. If he really was intent on keeping it from you wouldn’t he have rung last night, said he’d be late for tea, made some excuse so you wouldn’t grill him when he got in?”

She considered this. “Go on.”

“Well, it looks to me as though Adam is drawing attention to himself, not diverting it.”

“You think that’s it, attention-seeking? A cry for help?”

“Feels like that. You’ve sensed all along that he needs help – in some shape or form.” I thought of the lad waiting on the hill, shivering in the easterly wind, his face rotten with misery.

“And soon,” she said. “Before he gets any worse.”