Danny watched her face disappear behind a veil of smoke. ‘If you say so.’
‘I’ve never liked beards. Your dad grew one once, about a year after we got married. It was like kissing a privet hedge.’
Danny opted for a lighthearted response. He didn’t want to argue with her. ‘You telling me you’ve kissed a privet hedge?’
She waved a hand and swatted smoke. ‘I’ve kissed some rough buggers in my time before I met your dad, but I suppose you’ve got to start somewhere.’
‘True.’
‘You need a nice girl to–’
‘I’m all right as I am.’
‘Are you?’
Danny nodded and plonked his spoon in his half-eaten cereal. He was about to stand up and take his bowl to the sink when the local news came on the radio station:
‘Police are appealing for anyone who has seen missing schoolgirl, Cassie Rafferty, to contact them. Cassie is white, five foot five inches tall and has shoulder-length blonde hair. She has green eyes and wears glasses. She was last seen leaving her boyfriend’s house in Knott’s Lane, Hazlemarsh, at around 11am on Tuesday, third of June. Cassie was wearing a red t-shirt, pink denim shorts and white Nike trainers with a pink trim. She also had a pink and cream canvas shoulder bag. Police say they are concerned for Cassie’s welfare. She hasn’t contacted anyone by phone or been on social media for seven days, and her phone goes straight to voicemail. If anyone has seen Cassie, or knows of her whereabouts, they should call 101 and quote incident 946.’
‘What’s the matter, Danny? You look like you’ve just seen a ghost.’
Danny’s heart shivered. ‘Nothing. Just tired.’
‘Do you know the missing girl?’
‘Me?’
‘No, the bloke standing behind you.’
‘I don’t know her, Mum.’
‘How can someone just vanish like that?’
Danny shrugged.
‘Someone must have seen her.’
‘Let’s hope so.’
‘I wonder if her boyfriend had anything to do with it?’
‘Who knows?’
‘How many times do you see so-called loved ones making appeals on the telly, and then they turn out to be the guilty party? You don’t know who to trust these days. You remember that other girl that went missing in Feelham about nine years back?’
Danny chewed his bottom lip. ‘Yeah.’
‘What was her name?’
Danny didn’t answer. A headache throbbed just behind his eyes. He needed painkillers just to get through the day.
‘My mind’s not what it used to be,’ Rose said, stubbing out her cigarette with unnecessary force. ‘Was it Helen something-or-other?’
‘Ellie Hutton.’
‘They never found her, did they?’
‘Not as far as I know.’
‘Poor kid. Just vanished off the face of the earth walking home from school. Doesn’t bear thinking about, does it?’
‘Then don’t,’ Danny snapped. ‘Done is done. Torturing yourself with imaginary details won’t bring her back.’
‘I’m not torturing myself.’
‘You know what the doctor said about worrying over things you can’t control – it’s pointless and self-destructive.’
‘That’s easy for her to say – she didn’t lose her husband like I did.’
‘I know. But try to focus on yourself, Mum. One day at a time.’
‘Her husband works at the practice. They get to go home together and make plans. Eat together. Sleep together. Wake up in the mornings with each other. Not lie awake half the night thinking about what sort of low-life callous thug would throw a concrete slab off a bridge onto a car.’
‘I know.’
‘I wish I could have ten minutes locked in a room with the swine who did it.’
‘Me too.’
‘They’re too soft with ‘em these days. No one has any respect for the law. Your father was a good man. He didn’t deserve to die like that. I’ve lost count of how many times the police told me they were looking into it. They obviously didn’t look very hard, because they never caught the bastard, did they?’
Danny remembered getting his taekwondo yellow belt just before his father had died. He had a picture on his dressing table of the two of them together at the award ceremony. ‘Cops couldn’t catch a fish in an aquarium.’
Rose nodded. ‘Tell me about it. I went to a medium once, trying to get answers. But all she told me was he was at peace now, and he loved us all very much. Bloody waste of time and money.’
Danny walked to the sink and plonked his bowl on the drainer. ‘Mediums just prey on people’s grief, Mum.’
Rose nodded. ‘All a load of charlatans. I feel so sorry for that young girl’s parents. I know how it feels to have someone leave the house and never come home.’
‘It’s a dangerous world.’
‘The world’s not dangerous, Danny. Just the people in it. There was a time when folk could leave their backdoors unlocked and never have to worry about it.’
Danny thought about reminding her of wars and poverty in this mythical world where people didn’t need to bother with security, but he didn’t want to get his mother worked up any more than she was already.
‘I hope they find the girl alive,’ Rose said. ‘It would be nice to see a happy ending for once.’
‘Maybe she’s just gone to stay with a friend.’
Rose seemed slightly cheered by this prospect. ‘Let’s hope so.’
‘I’ve got to go. I’ll be home around six.’
She ran a hand through her mop of tangled hair. ‘Drive carefully.’
‘I will.’
‘You look tired.’
‘I’ll have a Red Bull.’
‘That stuff will rot your guts.’
Danny pointed at the half-empty packet of cigarettes. ‘And they’ll rot your lungs.’
Rose didn’t answer, but her eyes seemed to say she couldn’t care less about her own health.
He kissed her on the cheek and headed off to work. After stopping at the Esso garage to buy three cans of Red bull, he parked his Skoda outside the Greyhound depot and chugged a can straight down. He sat behind the wheel waiting for the caffeine to boost his energy levels.
He wound down the window – no electric wizardry in this boy’s seventeen-year-old car –and took several deep breaths. His heart fluttered in his chest. Just the drink kick-starting his knackered body. Nothing to worry about.
Keep telling yourself that, Danny-boy. Keep burying your head in the sand. Trouble is, you’re on a pebbled beach.
Danny squeezed his eyes shut. ‘Go away.’
Truth hurts, doesn’t it?
His mind’s eye treated him to a picture of his father’s car after the slab of concrete had redesigned the bonnet and smashed the windscreen. His mother had kept a newspaper cutting of the tragic aftermath. The slab itself hadn’t killed him. Nor had swerving into a ditch. Alan Sheppard had suffered a fatal heart attack, most likely brought on by shock.
He needed to get into work. Load his van and try to take his mind off things. He would feel better once he was out on the road. Wind down the windows and get some fresh air into his lungs. He got out of the car and locked the door. No central locking. Danny Sheppard didn’t have an image to uphold. Just a never-ending battle to keep his sanity in check.