‘Is Millie still at the party?’ Nousha asks, but then her eyes narrow. ‘No. If you’ve been to the hospital you were lying about the party, weren’t you? So where’s Millie?’
Despite her occasional jealousy, Nousha does love Millie, so I break it to her as gently as I can, sparing her the details of Ash’s escape.
‘Oh my God! I can’t bear it. How you could have let Millie go with those people, Jo? What were you thinking?’
I’m not surprised by her reaction. She’s asking the same questions I’ve been asking myself for hours.
Becky comes to my rescue. ‘If the police come to your door and say they’re taking your partner into custody and your child has to be interviewed by social services, anyone would have done what Jo did, Nousha. I think she needs your support right now.’
Nousha gives her a look of indignation, unused to being reprimanded, even as gently as Becky did it. She is quiet for a moment, but when she speaks it’s as if the better side of her – and I know there is one – has made its way through.
‘What can I do, Jo? Is there anything that might help you to find Millie?’
‘The police are following a number of leads, and Ash will probably be allowed home tomorrow. We’ve decided that I’m going to do the appeal on my own because Ash’s part in the abduction – kidnap, whatever it was – will confuse matters and the press are likely to be more interested in his escape than asking the right questions about Millie. Do you know if Sami’s coming today? He needs to be told before he sees it on the news, so maybe you could give him a ring. The police are trying to trace your father too.’
Nousha scoffs. ‘Well good luck with that,’ she says. ‘Do you think he’ll care?’
I can’t answer that. I’ve never met him.
Becky stands up. ‘I’m going to leave you now and get back to the incident room. Zoe isn’t here to interfere with your lives, but it’s her job to liaise with us and keep you up to speed with everything. She will try to be as unobtrusive as possible. It would be good if you got some sleep before the appeal, Jo. I know how difficult that will be, but you might find it easier to cope with the press if you’re rested.’
I start to stand up to show her out, but she waves me back to my seat.
‘We’re going to send someone to take fingerprints of anyone who has legitimately been in your house. I know the people who took Ash and Millie wore gloves, but Ash is denying any knowledge of the burner phone in his study. There are no prints on it, but plenty in other parts of the study, so if you could let us know who might have been upstairs, we’ll get them fingerprinted for elimination purposes. I’ll see you later.’
‘Before you go, Becky, would you mind coming with me?’ I say.
I don’t wait for her reply before standing up, heading out into the hall and up the stairs. I push open the door to Millie’s bedroom.
‘I wanted you to see this, to show you that my daughter is a real child, with a real home. I want you to know her, to care about her, because I need you to get her back for me.’
I hear my voice break.
Becky puts a hand on my shoulder. ‘I know, and I promise we do care. I have a child and Tom’s partner is about to give birth to his second. We feel your pain, but I’m glad you showed me her room. I can see it’s a happy place.’
Becky gives my shoulder another squeeze and heads for the stairs, leaving me to gaze into my daughter’s empty bedroom.
‘Nousha, I’m going to have to lie down in a little while to try to get some energy before the appeal. Have you spoken to Sami?’
Nousha has been on her mobile for the last ten minutes, but each call has seemed shorter than the one before.
‘No. He’s not answering his phone, and I’ve tried all his mates – the ones he usually calls when he needs somewhere to crash. None of them have heard from him for a couple of weeks, and he’s not been staying at mine.’
Sami is a bit nomadic. Every now and again he gets a job – sometimes locally, sometimes at the other end of the country – rents a room, and everything is fine for a while. But he never sticks at anything for long, and Ash has refused to keep supporting him.
‘You’re thirty years old, Sami,’ he says. ‘You float from job to job, from place to place. You have to be able to support yourself.’
So where’s Sami now? He could be anywhere between Brighton and Edinburgh, but I don’t want him to find out what’s happened by seeing it on the news.
‘Keep trying him, love. In the meantime, I need to make a list of people who’ve been to the house – particularly upstairs. Any ideas?’
‘They can’t be serious, can they? You have loads of visitors, and Millie’s friends are always coming for tea.’
She’s right, of course, but it’s unusual for people to go upstairs. Sometimes the kids might go to Millie’s bedroom, but she has a playroom on the ground floor and that’s where they usually hang out. They use the downstairs bathroom too, as do most of my friends.
Then I remember last Thursday. The theatre group. Tessa, Faye, Shona, Brian and Donald had all been in the house that day.
Donald and Brian are retired, which is why they were free at four o’clock on a Thursday. Tessa is her own boss, and Shona’s hours seem infinitely flexible. Faye is recently divorced and managed to get a huge financial settlement, so she doesn’t work.
They had all trooped into the house and into the sitting room as I’d headed to the kitchen to make tea.
‘Can I help?’ a voice had said from the door. Faye.
I remember wishing she hadn’t followed me. Much as I love my chaotic kitchen, every surface of which is adorned with some pot or jug that I’ve found at a car boot sale and stuffed with endless wooden spoons, I saw it through her eyes. Her kitchen is all shiny white and stainless steel with not a single unnecessary item marring the immaculate worktop. I bet she thought we’d had burglars.
The afternoon had dragged, and I’d been desperate for them to leave. Finally, just as I thought things were drawing to a conclusion, Faye had asked to use the bathroom.
Brian was speaking to me and for a second I was distracted, until I heard Shona directing her upstairs: ‘Jo’s having the downstairs cloakroom decorated,’ she said.
I couldn’t look at Tessa, who knew it wasn’t true. I made up the redecoration lie when Shona called round one morning for coffee. I’d chucked a load of dirty clothes in the cloakroom earlier, intending to put them in the washing machine, but I’d forgotten, and I didn’t want Shona having to kick my knickers out of the way to get to the loo.
Of course, once Faye had come back down, the two men decided to go too. Everyone, in fact – with the exception of Tessa – had decided it was a good idea to use the bathroom before setting off home, even though most of them live a five-minute drive away. As Tessa lives across the road, if she’d said it too I would have known she was taking the piss.
All of them, bar Tessa, could have left fingerprints on the bannister and in the bathroom. Faye’s could be on the kitchen door.
Have I forgotten anyone?
Then I remember that there’s one other person who goes upstairs: Millie – whose prints they won’t be able to take. At that thought my body tightens and I smother a sob.