Читать книгу The Hour Before Dawn - Sara MacDonald, Sara MacDonald - Страница 12

At lunchtime I locked the house up, drove round to the marina and sat waiting for Jack. He had rung to say he’d taken the afternoon off and we were going to have lunch together on the seafront in Paihia. I sat in the shade of a tree, a book in my lap, watching the Maoris who were often there diving for oysters off the concrete pier, collecting them in great piles to cart away in their aged pick-ups.

Petrol from the boat engines lay in purple-green pools on the surface of the water, but it did not seem to worry them. They called out cheerfully to their beautiful raggedy children who watched with their legs dangling in the water, their white teeth suddenly dazzling at some private joke.

A young Maori boy was poling an ancient canoe around the edges of the bay in the shallows by the trees, bending and digging his pole into the mud, his arm muscles flexing as he began to make it skim across the water, gaining confidence and pace with each stroke.

Out of nowhere came a memory. So slight it was a floater dancing in front of my eyes; a second, a fleeting second of remembrance. A long, empty beach at evening and a Malaysian fisherman poling fast across the horizon as the sun faded. He was silhouetted in black, like a cut-out against the dying sun, before he disappeared into the suddenness of a tropical night. Suddenly, behind me a shadowy figure appeared from nowhere, sliding past me away fast into the darkness; gone before I could turn.

The image faded abruptly leaving me full of unease. I saw Jack coming towards me and I got heavily to my feet and walked towards him. Whenever I saw him from a distance I felt a rush of gratitude. He was a lovely, uncomplicated man who made life easy; made loving effortless.

We got to Kerikeri early and Jack immediately got talking to people he knew, not difficult in a small place with a tiny landing strip. I paced up and down watching the sky, imagining Fleur emerging from the plane, getting into our ancient car, viewing our house for the first time. I wanted the time to come and go in a flash, leaving us as we were, content and hidden in our own lives, without any outside interruptions to halt the succession of each day.

The speck in the sky appeared and everyone stood looking skyward, jangling car keys, waiting. There were mutters and sometimes ribald murmurs. Most families, it seemed, had wanted and not so wanted visitors about to descend from the small jaw of the aircraft.

Jack threw his arm around me as the little two-engined plane circled and landed. Steps were wheeled out, and as the aircraft door was thrown open I realised that I was hardly breathing. Would Fleur be first out? Last?

People descended singly, blinking as they emerged. We watched everyone get off the plane and still we stood staring at the now empty doorway, waiting, but my mother did not appear.

‘Oh dear,’ Jack said.

‘Oh God. I might have known.’

‘Did you check she was on this flight?’

‘Yes. I also checked her flight from Singapore was on schedule.’

‘OK. Let’s go and talk to someone at the desk.’

The girl looked down her list. Yes, Mrs Campbell was on the passenger list. The girl got up and went out and talked to the two pilots and then came back. Mrs Campbell had not taken the flight from Auckland, despite calls over the Tannoy.

Was it possible, Jack asked, for her to make a telephone call to see if Mrs Campbell had been on the flight from Singapore to Auckland?

The girl looked irritated as I rummaged in my bag for Fleur’s flight number from Singapore. She obviously wanted to go off-duty. ‘I’ll try, but you might have to do it yourself from home…the lines get busy.’

‘That would be great of you. Melanie, isn’t it? So sorry to be a nuisance…’ Jack said smoothly, giving her his most toothy and boyish grin. It did the trick.

She spoke on the phone for some time, obviously being transferred from one department to another. Then she looked at us and nodded. ‘Oh,’ she said. ‘Oh.’ She shot me a look. ‘Yes. Someone’s here in Kerikeri to meet her. Her daughter. Yes. OK. I’ll put her on.’ She handed me the receiver.

‘Hello?’ I said. ‘I’m Nikki Montrose, Mrs Campbell’s daughter.’

‘Hi there.’ The Kiwi voice was relaxed, wanted to reassure. ‘Now, Mrs Montrose, try not to worry, perhaps there is a message waiting for you at home. Mrs Campbell was on the passenger list from Heathrow to Singapore but she was not on the second leg of her flight from Singapore to Auckland.’

‘Did she book in for her flight to Auckland from Singapore airport? Did her luggage have to be offloaded when she didn’t board?’

‘No. The information I have is that she did not return from her stopover in Singapore and the flight left without her.’

‘Oh God,’ I said.

‘Could I have your home telephone number, Mrs Montrose? If we hear anything we’ll contact you straight away, but what I advise is for you to contact her stopover hotel. Do you have the name of it?’

‘Yes. It was the Singapore Hilton. It’s Miss, by the way, I’m not married.’

‘I’m sorry’ the man said ‘to hear that, Ms Montrose.’

Humour was the last thing I felt like responding to. I also caught a quick flash of regret cross Jack’s face, because I didn’t want to get married.

‘It could be your mother has been taken ill or missed her flight for some reason and is booked on a later one…’ I could hear him fiddling with his computer. ‘She is not on any of the flights out of Singapore tonight or tomorrow…Sorry, I don’t think I can help you further at the moment…’

‘Thanks…you’ve helped all you can. Thank you for your time. If you hear anything you will contact—’

‘Of course. No worries. Good luck, Ms Montrose. I’m sure you’ll find your mother safe and well. Old people do go astray, you know.’

I laughed as I put the phone down. Fleur, old! Never. But she was vague.

We thanked Melanie and left the now deserted little terminal. As we drove slowly home I didn’t know what to think. I didn’t know whether I was annoyed or anxious.

‘It seems you were right, Nik, she has gone walkabout.’ Jack looked at my face. ‘Darlin’, you really are worried something’s happened to her?’

‘I was being facetious before, Jack. Fleur is perfectly capable of travelling long distances. She spent her whole childhood doing it. How can you miss a plane on a stopover? A bus picks you up and deposits you, bang, at the airport. She knew we were meeting her. If something has happened why hasn’t she rung us?’

‘As soon as we get home we’ll ring that Singapore hotel. There may be a message waiting for us.’

But there wasn’t. Dark seemed to descend quickly and the house seemed oddly stilled. We had been poised waiting for Fleur. I didn’t want her to be ill and alone in some huge hotel full of strangers.

I rang the Singapore Hilton and could not make the first girl understand what I wanted and needed to know. I could feel my voice rising and Jack took the phone and calmly went over it all again. Then he put his hand over the mouthpiece.

‘They’re getting the manager.’

Jack repeated his message once more and then listened. I watched his face change and he flashed me an anxious look. He gave the man our number and said, yes, we would ring later. He put the phone down and came over to me.

‘Your mother booked in for one night only…’ He hesitated. ‘She didn’t catch the airport bus when it came and no one could find her. Her luggage is still all in her room and she hasn’t booked out of the hotel. No one has seen her since early yesterday morning.’

I stared at him, felt the blood drain from my face. Something really had happened to Fleur.

Jack took my hand. ‘I’m going to run you a bath and then make you toast. You’re getting into bed. Do you hear me? We’ve had one fright with the baby, we don’t want another…’ He paused.

‘What?’ I asked. ‘What is it?’

‘The manager is going to contact the police if she doesn’t return tonight. We’re to ring the hotel in the morning. They are going to ask Fleur to ring us immediately if she comes back.’

My back ached and Jack ran me a bath and made me get in it. I was glad to be in bed. He came and sat on the edge of it with toast, which we shared. Then he brought the phone upstairs where we could hear it and I checked my mobile was switched on. He went for a shower and then got into bed and held me tight, and even though he warmed me I could not stop imagining all the terrible things that could have happened to Fleur.

Jack always could fall asleep straight away and he did tonight. He had been up since 5.30. I lay there against him thinking it served me bloody well right. I had not wanted my mother to come and now she was probably dead in some alleyway in Singapore. Or…Or what? If she had been taken ill she would have had her passport on her, and hotel and flight details. If she was in hospital we would know by now. Which meant she was in trouble. Or dead.

I shivered and carried on circuitous conversations in my head. It was a long time since I had prayed. I tried to remember what my mother had said to me on our one and only telephone conversation, how her voice had sounded, and I couldn’t.

If my mother was dead, I would be to blame for not checking all her plans in detail, like any daughter would have done. For not phoning or texting or letting her know she could contact me and not feel a nuisance. For not monitoring her progress thousands of miles towards me. For not caring enough; for being wickedly self-absorbed and childishly selfish.

Could it be she had gone looking for some piece of architecture and got lost or gone further than she’d meant to? Or maybe her phone had been stolen and she couldn’t contact us. Maybe she had met an acquaintance or colleague and was staying with them. I was clutching at straws.

I lay very still with a terrible sense of prescience. More than that, fear lay under my skin as if something dark was crawling my way. Jack breathed beside me and the night stretched on and on and the dawn came, surprising me with its suddenness.

The phone went and I leapt upright. It was a Detective Sergeant James Mohktar who spoke perfect English. He was ringing from the Singapore Hilton. He asked me if I was Mrs Campbell’s next of kin. Her luggage was still in her room and her disappearance was worrying. Had she contacted me? Was there any place I could think of that she might have gone to?

No, I told him. She had not contacted me and I had no idea where she could possibly have gone. ‘She once lived in Singapore a long time ago, but she doesn’t know anyone there now. I’m very worried, this is not like her, or the fact that she hasn’t been in touch…’

There was a pause and then the detective said, ‘You are advising me that Mrs Campbell is definitely missing and that you have no explanation whatsoever for her disappearance?’

‘Yes, I am. My mother was flying out to us in New Zealand via Singapore. She caught the plane from Heathrow to Singapore, but did not catch the second leg of her journey to Auckland. She was then due to fly from Auckland to Kerikeri where she knew we were waiting to meet her. If she’d missed her flight or was ill she would have let us know.’

‘OK, Mrs Montrose. We are going to make a search of the hotel now. My men will make inquiries to try to ascertain her whereabouts and safety and which member of staff may have had a conversation with her and who saw her last. Then I will ring you again…’ He paused. ‘If we do not find your mother, I am afraid you must fly to Singapore to register her officially missing and identify her belongings. She did always carry her passport about her person?’

‘Yes,’ I said. ‘I’m sure she wouldn’t have left her passport in a hotel room. She would have kept it with her.’

‘We will’ the detective sergeant said, ‘maintain hope, Mrs Montrose, that there is a rational explanation. I will ring you this evening. Try not to worry. Good day.’

I crumpled on the edge of the bed, Jack’s anxious eyes on me. Was God or fate visiting some sick and terrible retribution on me? Was my mother too going to disappear without trace? Her body never found, so that I would never know what happened or where she had gone, who took her or why?

Just like Saffie. Snatched from under our noses; disappearing from us without trace twenty-eight years ago.