It swings open.
There’s a gasp and a grunt and my breath catches in my throat as two men, naked and flushed, spring away from each other. The thinner and paler of the two men, standing at the base of the bed, grabs an item of clothing from the floor and presses it to his crotch. The other man, still on the mattress, shouts, ‘What the fuck?’ and picks up a shoe. He stares at me as though deciding whether or not I’m a threat, then launches himself off the bed and slams the door shut. ‘You can fuck off too, Jay,’ he shouts as his flatmate, still standing behind me with his hand on my shoulder, roars with laughter.
‘Come on, mad bird. Time for you to leave.’ Jay moves his hand to the small of my back and manoeuvres me out of the hallway, back into the living room and across to the front door.
‘Please.’ I twist away from him as he reaches for the door handle. ‘Please just tell me where you got the bike from. Is it stolen? I won’t tell the police. If it is Billy’s bike it could be a clue, it could help us—’
‘It’s not stolen.’ Jay glances back at his friends but they aren’t on the sofa any more. They’ve moved to the other doorway, where they’re nudging each other and laughing as they peer into the hallway. ‘It’s Rich’s bike, the guy in the bedroom. He hates us using his stuff, particularly me. Says I’ll buckle the frame.’ He laughs drily.
‘But you saw me, in my car, and you sped up.’
‘What car?’ He looks genuinely confused. ‘I was trying to get the bike back before Rich got up. Look –’ his expression softens as he opens the door – ‘I’m sorry your son’s missing. We’ll stick the leaflet up in the window, okay?’
‘Thank you,’ I say, even though it is no longer in his hand. It’s in a crumpled ball under the table.
‘All right then. You take it easy.’
‘Wait! Are there any other squats around here? My son—’
The question hangs in the air as the door is shut in my face.
‘Oh, crapping hell, missus.’ Liz squeezes me tightly, then holds me at arm’s length so she can look me up and down. ‘I’ve been so worried about you. Where the hell have you been?’
I open my mouth to reply but my best friend gets there first. ‘Come in and tell me everything. Do I need to lock the front door this time? Because if you do a runner again I swear I’ll rugby-tackle you to the ground. I’ve eaten a metric fucking tonne of chocolate in the last few days so I’m packing a few pounds!’
We’ve been sitting at Liz’s kitchen table for ten minutes. I’ve been talking non-stop since I stepped into her house. When I finally pause to take a breath Liz stares at me, her eyes large and round. ‘And all this has happened in the last few days?’
I nod.
‘Why didn’t you come round? I mean, I appreciated the text you sent saying you were okay but Jesus, woman, you only live next door. You could have popped in. When Mark and Jake came round to say you’d disappeared I totally freaked. I thought it was my fault. That bloody newspaper.’
‘I know.’ I reach across the kitchen table for her hands. ‘I’m so sorry. I should have come round earlier but it’s … it’s all been so … I feel like I’m going mad. That’s the only way I can explain it. I’m literally losing my mind.’
‘Of course you are, babe. Anyone in your situation would be. But I’ll tell you something for nothing – don’t you be going to any more places on your own. You need to let the police do their job. Anything could have happened to you in that squat. They could have robbed you or worse.’
‘They weren’t like that.’
‘And you know that for sure, do you? People turn, Claire. You need to be a bit less trusting.’
‘I’m not too trusting.’
‘You bloody are.’
‘But I need to find Billy. If Caleb went missing you’d do everything you could to get him back. I’ve waited six months for the police to find him but I can’t keep doing that. I need to find him. I can’t just sit at home doing nothing. But I’ve started to see him everywhere I go. Everywhere …’
I snatch my hands back from Liz’s and rest my forehead on my curled fists, suddenly exhausted. I don’t know what to think any more. Or what to do. Each time I think I’m one step closer to finding Billy I get my hopes up. Only for them to come crashing back down again.
‘Deep breaths.’ I hear the squeak of Liz’s chair on the kitchen tiles and then her hand on my back. She rubs circles over my shoulders with the palms of her hands, just the way I’d do to the kids when they were little and upset. ‘Take deep breaths, Claire.’
I close my eyes as she continues to rub my back but the darkness behind my eyelids is too dense, too deathless, and I open them again.
‘Maybe what you need,’ Liz says softly, ‘is a bit of normality. Let me finish,’ she adds quickly. ‘I know there’s no normal – I know life can’t be normal until you get Billy back – but what I mean is maybe you need a routine. You’ve got too much time on your hands, Claire. Too much time to think and brood. Have you thought about going back to work?’
‘Oh God, no.’
‘I thought Stephen was a good boss?’ Her voice softens as she says my brother-in-law’s name. I think she’s always had a bit of a soft spot for him, not that she’d ever admit it. ‘He let you take six months off after Billy disappeared. I’m sure he’d be glad to have you back.’
‘I know, but it’s complicated.’
‘How is it complicated? You loved your job at Wilkinson & Son. You were always telling me about the banter you had with the customers on the phone and how you and Stephen had a laugh.’
‘Loved is a bit strong and anyway, what about Mark?’
‘What about him? You went back to work after the argument, didn’t you? And he didn’t give you any grief.’
Mark and his stepbrother Stephen fell out a year ago. It was my birthday and we were having Sunday lunch in a local pub when Billy and Jake came to blows in the garden. They never revealed what started it but there was a lot of name-calling and insults thrown about before Jake landed the first punch. Mark intervened, heavy-handedly, and Stephen made a comment about Mark’s parenting skills.
He said it jokily but Mark bit back, asking what the fuck Stephen knew about bringing up children. It was a low blow. Stephen and his wife Caroline can’t have kids. They’ve tried everything, all the tests you can get. ‘Unknown fertility issues,’ the consultant said. Caroline got pregnant once, after ten years of trying, but she lost the baby in the second trimester. They never discovered why. She was broken by it and so was Stephen. I thought Mark was completely out of order for what he’d said to him and I let him know as much. I went back to Wilkinson & Son the next day, as though nothing had happened. Mark didn’t give
