The Roman and the Runaway Page 8

  Five minutes later, the officers had arrived and were asking Shelley careful questions about Pagan's intentions. When they asked whether Shelley knew why Pagan had left, Shelley hesitated.

  "She didn't like Brian," she told them. "She said he was creepy: always making comments about her appearance when her Mum wasn't around, kind of flirting with her, sometimes touching her when she didn't want him to. She couldn't talk to her Mum about it, so she thought if she ran away for a short time, the situation would, you know, come to a head."

  The police officers exchanged glances and Naomi looked horrified.

  That night, Julia barely slept, wondering where Pagan was spending her night and whether she was alright. Neither she nor Brian went to work the next day. Two people were at her doorstop again on the Monday morning. This time, they were both women and neither of them was wearing a police uniform.

  The taller of the two women introduced herself as Detective Inspector Clarke and explained that she was accompanied by Mrs Finch of the local social services department. Once in the living room, the inspector asked Brian if he would mind making them a cup of coffee so they could talk to Julia on her own. He frowned but left to comply.

  DI Clarke sat down next to Julia on the sofa and watched her closely. "Mrs Randall, it has been suggested to the investigating team that Pagan might have left because she no longer wanted to share a house with your partner, Brian. What is your reaction to this?"

  Julia appeared confused. "What? But they get on OK. He thinks the world of her."

  There was a pause as the inspector framed her next question carefully.

  "Do you get the impression Pagan feels the same way about him?"

  "No, she isn't particularly enthusiastic about him," admitted Julia. "But there were never any rows or anything like that between them." She looked over at Mrs Finch. "I'm sorry but I really don't understand why the Social Services are involved in this at all."

  Detective Inspector Clarke gently explained. "Mrs Randall, Social Services have to be informed if there is any chance that a child who is missing from home has been the victim of abuse or exploitation. Information we have received during our preliminary investigations suggest that your partner may have been behaving towards Pagan in an inappropriate manner and that this is what has caused her to run away."

  "No," said Julia, flatly, refusing to believe any such thing. "No, she would have talked to me about it."

  Mrs Finch spoke for the first time. "Mrs Randall, it may have been very difficult for your daughter to do that, especially if she feels you are happy in your relationship with Mr Colson."

  "There don't seem to have been any problems at school or with her friends," the inspector told Julia. "The only lead we currently have is the way your daughter feels about Brian."

  "I just want you to FIND HER!" Julia retorted, her voice rising into a shout.

  Brian came back into the room at that moment, bearing a tray of mugs, which he placed on the coffee table in front of the DI.

  "We are looking for her, Mrs Randall," replied the inspector. "But I hope you can see we are also concerned for your daughter's continuing welfare."

  Julia bit her lip and gazed up at Brian with a trusting expression on her face. "Brian, they're saying Pagan left because of you. You never did anything to hurt her, did you?"

  "Of course not!" Brian responded.

  The inspector changed her approach. "Would it be possible for me to see Pagan's room, Mrs Randall?"

  "Er, yes, I suppose so," said Julia. She got up and showed DI Clarke Pagan's bedroom, leaving her there to search for any clues to her daughter's whereabouts or state of mind.

  When she returned to the living room, Mrs Finch asked her about the events preceding Pagan's disappearance. "Can you tell me what happened the day before Pagan left?"

  Julia had been replaying the day in her mind in a continuous loop and was easily able to obey this request. "The only thing that was slightly different from normal was that Brian told Pagan she might be able to get a job in the hardware store on a Saturday. I thought she'd be pleased but she didn't say much about it really…" Julia looked up at Mrs Finch and then across at Brian. It suddenly became hideously clear to her that the two women had been right. "There is something wrong between you and Pagan isn't there?" she accused Brian. "What have you done to her?"

  Brian raised his hands in protest. "Nothing, Julia, nothing! I've given her the odd squeeze, I admit but nothing more than that. She's a lovely girl!"

  Julia stared at Brian as if seeing him properly for the first time. Her face was white. "You really don't think you've done anything wrong, do you? I think you had better leave. Now. And stay away from both of us."

  Brian glanced from Julia to Mrs Finch and then slammed his way out of the house. Julia dropped onto the sofa and sobbed into her hands. The social worker came to sit next to her and patted her arm in silent comfort and support. A short while later, Inspector Clarke re-entered the room and Julia managed to pull herself together.

  The police officer correctly interpreted the situation and sat down on Julia's other side. "Is there anyone you can call to come and be with you?" she asked.

  Julia shook her head, tears spilling into her lap. "Please," she said, "just find my daughter."

  "We can share her photograph with the news media, if you want us to," the inspector told her. "There's often a good response from the media and from the public when the missing person is as young and as attractive as your daughter."

  Julia cried even harder at this but nodded her consent to the idea of sharing Pagan's picture with the news organisations.

  *

  Birds woke Pagan very early that same Monday morning with loud singing. It was barely light. Pagan rolled over in her sleeping bag and her head fell off the end of the tiny pillow, landing uncomfortably on a stone underneath the floor of the tent. As this meant Pagan was now fully awake, she sat up and decided to explore her surroundings. She picked up her empty water bottle, hoping she would find a way of refilling it.

  The June morning was cool and dewy as Pagan continued through the woods in the same direction as she had travelled the night before. The woods were not as large as she had first thought and soon she was at the edge, next to a square, modern building she thought must belong to the country club. There was no-one around and she went closer, to see what it was. The building was labelled ‘Squash Courts' and another sign declared that its opening hours were 6.30am to 9pm. Squash courts implied changing rooms, toilets and showers to Pagan's practical mind and she was delighted with this find. It was still an hour until the advertised opening time, so Pagan continued her exploration. She found that the main building of the country club was half a mile further on but did not dare to go too close to that, for fear of being spotted from one of its many windows. The entrance to the country club was close to that building and Pagan could hear cars on a road which bordered the club on its eastern edge. She retreated back into the woods to wait for 6.30am and see what would happen.

  At 6.25 a small van arrived at the squash courts and two women climbed out and removed a box of cleaning materials and what looked like a laundry basket full of towels from the back. They went over to the building and entered it. Half an hour later, they emerged, loaded up the van with their box and a basket of used towels and drove away. Pagan's heart was beating hard as she crept back to the building. The front door was now open and she entered. Sure enough, there were men and women's changing rooms, with showers and lavatories. Better still, there were clean towels piled up for the use of the country club's members and tiny bottles of shampoo, conditioner and shower gel.

  Hardly daring to believe her luck, Pagan used the toilet and then took the quickest shower of her life, leaving her used towel in the basket provided for them and putting the partly-used bottles of toiletries in her pockets. She filled up her water bottle and quickly left, making her way back to her woodland hideout before any country club members came to use the squash courts. Back at
the tent, she boiled some water with her new camping stove and made herself a cup of weak black tea, beginning to dare to believe she would be able to survive on her own in this place that she had found.

  After fortifying herself with another sausage roll, Pagan worked to hide her tent more thoroughly than she had had time to, the previous night. She spent an hour artfully arranging the brambles and undergrowth until the tent was hard to see even close up. Once she had finished, she was ready to explore again and to find the small village she remembered seeing on the maps she'd studied of this area.

  Pagan set off to find her way back to the road she'd seen earlier, which she was fairly sure led to the village. She rolled a large log over to the dry-stone wall and used it as a stepping-stone to pull herself to the top. She looked carefully up and down the path before heaving herself back over the wall. Making sure there was still no-one in sight, she collected a small piece of chalk from the side of the path and marked a horizontal line on one of the stones of the wall, at about shoulder height, so she would know where to climb back over it again. With her rucksack on her back now much lighter than it had been the day before, she set off eastward, hoping to join up with the road which she'd seen from inside the country club's grounds.

  It was only a short walk of perhaps two hundred metres to the road. It wasn't busy with traffic but Pagan was surprised she had not heard any cars at all from her tent. The trees had a deadening affect on the noise. Pagan adjusted her rucksack to make it sit slightly higher on her back and then headed south on the road, following the wall of the country club, which was even higher here. Another wall bordered the road on the opposite side and soon Pagan passed the entrance to Hawley Lodge School. She nodded in approval at her new neighbours. Rich kids and a country club, she thought, nice!

  In a short time, she passed the main entrance to the country club on her right. The principle building was a hotel: a grand affair which must have been part of a huge country estate in times gone by. A tall, strangely-shaped statue, perhaps supposed to be a woman, stood in the driveway in front of the building. It seemed to be wearing a white vest, which struck Pagan as a rather odd addition.

  The village was about a mile from Pagan's campsite. She was pleased to find it had a small shop. Inside the shop she bought some cans of soup, some cheese, a loaf of bread and a tub of margarine. The woman behind the counter was deep in a scandal-mongering conversation with the previous customer and paid little attention to Pagan, which suited her just fine.

  After packing her purchases into her bag, Pagan continued her exploration. The village was very small but had a picturesque pond, a pub and a bus stop. She walked on, exploring the main part of the village. A small lane led to a common area surrounded by houses. There was a children's playground in the centre with a number of well-cared-for allotment plots around it. Pagan eyed these neat rows of vegetables with interest: perhaps she would be able to swipe some lettuces or peas to supplement her diet. She returned to the road and followed it around in a large square, of about a mile in perimeter, back to the pond. By now she was getting hungry again. It was well past her usual lunch time and she decided to head back to the tent to eat.

  She walked back up the road to the country club, looking in at the main entrance again. She noticed the statue had lost the vest it had been wearing earlier. Some men were unloading suitcases and golf bags from sporty little cars, while a group of smartly-clothed women with expensive-looking haircuts laughed loudly together at the front of the building. Pagan thought of the illicit shower she had taken in the squash courts that morning and smiled to herself, wondering what these wealthy types would say if they knew she had been gate-crashing their facilities.

  Chapter Ten

  As she approached the school on her right, she saw a group of four teenage boys in white sports strips with blue stripes across their chests turning into the school entrance. Another group of four, these with red stripes, were jogging down the road towards her. Four more, this time with yellow bands, emerged from the footpath which led back towards her camp as she continued walking. They were obviously doing some sort of cross-country run. Pagan suddenly felt vulnerable and alone in the face of these boys. The boys with red stripes stared at her with open curiosity as they followed the blue team into the school entrance. Pagan kept her face down as she passed them. Then the yellow-striped bunch of runners was alongside her. One of them addressed her directly:

  "Fancy a date, gorgeous? I'm looking for a bit of rough!" The boys with him laughed, as if they were hugely impressed by the boy's incredible wit.

  Pagan ignored him, refusing to make eye contact, and was annoyed to find herself blushing. When she got to the footpath she glanced up it, ready to continue walking up the road if there were any other boys running towards her. But the path was deserted and Pagan started to go back to the place in the wall where she could climb over to reach her camp. She had almost reached it when another set of four boys rounded a slight bend in the path. This lot had green bands on the front of their vests.

  Pagan ducked to the right so that she was off the path and partly concealed by a thick-trunked tree. The fourth group of boys were walking rather than running and not very quickly at that. They were so deeply absorbed in their conversation that they failed to notice Pagan, tucked behind her tree. She couldn't help overhearing their words.

  "Well I think it's a great idea," the lanky blonde one was saying, "but where are we going to get them from?"

  "Just pick some up on the roadside?" suggested the tubby, dark-haired boy.

  "No, we need them to look as through they've been freshly-smoked," said one of the others, who looked Indian to Pagan. "And it would look weird if they were all different brands."

  "There's the pub in the village," said the boy who'd spoken first, "but we won't be able to get there until Saturday and even then we'd be likely to be spotted by one of the others."

  "Maybe we could get some from the country club instead," the fourth boy suggested. He was more athletically-built than the others, Pagan noticed, and had dark blonde hair.

  "You must be joking," the other blonde boy said, "after what happened today? If we get caught in there we'll be in deep shit, especially you, Luke. Don't even think-"

  He stopped then, having finally noticed Pagan. She stared defiantly back at them, daring them to make a crude remark like the previous group.

  The boy whose name was Luke regarded her with interest. "Excuse me," he said, "but do you live around here?"

  Taken aback by this politeness, Pagan could only reply "Er, yes, I do. So what?"

  The boy looked at his friends. "What if we ask her to do it?"

  "Do what?" demanded Pagan, ready to get angry if necessary.

  The Indian-looking boy gave her a charming smile. "We are trying to exact revenge for a cruel trick that was played upon my friend here by some of our colleagues."

  "Were they the ones with the yellow bands?" Pagan found herself asking, remembering the way she'd been treated by that set of boys.

  The boy seemed surprised. "Why, yes. And I can see they have caused offence to you in some way, too. We have come up with a plan to get back at them but we are in need of some materials which are hard for us to obtain but which might be easy for you to find."

  Pagan glanced at him suspiciously. This boy sounded like he'd swallowed a dictionary. "You're not talking about drugs are you?"

  The boy called Luke explained that what they wanted were some cigarette butts from the ashtrays of the pub in the village. Pagan didn't like the sound of that but it didn't sound too difficult a task and there might be an advantage in playing along with them.

  "What's in it for me?" she asked.

  "What do you need?" asked the Indian boy. Pagan thought about this.

  "Books," she decided.

  All four boys burst out together: "Books?"

  "Yes, books. You've got a library in that school of yours, haven't you? Well I'd like to borrow some books to read. I'm here on holi
day and I'm bored. I'll gather up some freshly-smoked cigarette butts for you, if you bring me some books."

  "Excuse us for a moment," said the Indian boy and the green team retreated to discuss the matter.

  Pagan watched them in amusement, wondering where this was going to go next and rather enjoying herself. The boys broke apart and came back to her. Luke seemed to have been appointed spokesman, this time. "I've got a training run on Wednesday afternoon," he said. "I could bring you some books at around three."

  "OK," replied Pagan, "I'll meet you here at three with the cigarette butts. And don't bring me any rubbishy books – some decent stuff please."

  "Where are you staying?" Luke asked.

  "At the country club," replied Pagan in her haughtiest manner. This was, after all, strictly true. "But I can meet you here."

  The boys thanked her and started jogging back towards the school. Pagan waited until they were out of sight before finding her mark on the wall and climbing over it, back to her tent. There she unpacked her purchases and made herself a late lunch. Bored of her tent, she went for another walk in the afternoon but this one was uneventful and she returned to her campsite in the early evening, beginning to think camping was rather dull. Not being as tired as she had been on the previous night, it took Pagan a while to get to sleep. She was tormented by feelings of guilt about running away from her mother and it was difficult to get comfortable enough to drop off.

  The following morning, Pagan made another trip to the squash courts, this time arranging to arrive there shortly after the cleaners had left. Feeling bolder than she had on Monday, she took a longer shower and was still out of the building before any early-morning squash players arrived to disturb her. She suspected that the squash courts were never heavily used at this time of day. She borrowed the damp towel she had used, thinking she could use it as another layer of padding underneath her bedding roll, to shield her body from some of the stones underneath the tent.

  Back at her campsite, Pagan made a cup of tea and then had bread and margarine for her breakfast. Toast would be nicer, she thought to herself. The idea of staying alone in the tent all morning with nothing to do was unappealing but Pagan knew there was no point in going to the pub in the village until later in the day, when the smokers would have had time to visit it. She was utterly bored by lunchtime and was beginning to look forward to Luke bringing her some books the following day with eagerness.