Schoolgirl Missing: Discover the dark side of family life in the most gripping page-turner of 2019. Sue Fortin
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you.’
‘We had swimming lessons.’
Neve filled in the missing information. It was just her luck that the St Joseph’s school bus must have gone across the bridge today at the exact same time she was with Jake by the river. The coach always took a short-cut through the village to get to the leisure centre in a different town where there was more specialised equipment and staff for St Joseph’s children. That explained it.
‘Ah, yes. I forgot you had swimming today.’ Neve looked up to the ceiling. Of all the days! ‘I went to pick up some paints from Jake,’ she said, grateful that an excuse had sprung to mind from nowhere. A plausible one too. ‘For my next painting. I wanted to check it was the right colour before I bought it. We had a little stroll by the river to look at the flowers.’
‘And to kiss.’
Neve’s heart almost leapt into her throat. Poppy saw them kissing. Shit. Double shit.
‘Neve and Jake sitting in a tree. K I S S I N G,’ sang Poppy as she swirled her finger around faster in the milk.
‘Stop that!’ snapped Neve.
Poppy slowly removed her finger from the milk before licking it. Then she continued with the chanting. ‘Neve and Jake walking by the river. K I S S I N G.’
‘Poppy! That’s enough.’ Neve slapped her hand on the work top. Sometimes Poppy would be so engrossed in what she was doing, it was hard to get her attention. A sudden noise often brought her back to reality. Neve wasn’t having any such luck today. ‘Poppy!’ She raised her voice above the repetitive verse. ‘STOP!’ Again, she slammed the counter.
Neve could feel the panic rising in her. Poppy had to stop. Kit would be back anytime now. Before she could consider the consequences of what she was doing, Neve stormed around the island counter and grabbed Poppy by the shoulders, practically pulling her off the bar stool and to her feet. Neve’s face was inches from Poppy’s. The teenager’s warm breath pummelled her skin as she carried on chanting, her voice becoming louder and louder, the words spilling out faster and faster.
Neve could hear her own voice competing with Poppy’s, telling her to stop, to be quiet, but Poppy was in no mood for compliance.
Then Neve’s hand left Poppy’s shoulder and made contact with her face instead. The crack of the slap was like a branch being snapped. Neve gasped and took a step back.
‘You hit me,’ said Poppy incredulously, as she clasped both her hands to her cheek.
‘Oh, Poppy, I’m so sorry,’ said Neve, still not quite comprehending what she had done. ‘I … I didn’t mean to. It wasn’t … I didn’t hit you. It was a slap.’ Somehow in her mind a slap sounded better than a hit, but Neve also knew neither were acceptable. What the hell had she done?
Two big globes of tears rolled down Poppy’s face, the tear on the right side reaching her chin while the other side, just reached her fingertips. ‘You hit me,’ repeated Poppy.
‘I’m sorry. I really am. I was trying to get you to listen to me. I didn’t mean to.’ Neve took a step towards Poppy and gently moved her hand from her face. Neve gave a sharp intake of breath. A red slap mark burned on Poppy’s cheek. Neve felt sick at the sight of it. ‘Come up to the bathroom with me,’ she said, taking Poppy by the hand. ‘We’ll put a cold flannel on it.’
Reluctantly, Poppy allowed Neve to take her upstairs and sit her on the edge of the bath while Neve ran a clean flannel under the cold water. Poppy flinched as the compress was rested against her skin. ‘It’s cold,’ she complained.
‘It’s meant to be,’ said Neve, as she wished with all her heart she hadn’t lost control.
‘You only had to say please, and I would have stopped,’ said Poppy, her voice sullen. Uncharacteristically, she looked up at Neve from under her thick black eyelashes. Neve had only ever seen one photograph of Poppy’s mother, one that Kit had framed and was on Poppy’s dressing table, and for the first time Neve could see a likeness between mother and child. It was the angle of the photograph, taken from above, as Poppy’s mother looked up at the camera, in just the same way Poppy did now. It was definitely the dark thick lashes that did it. She certainly hadn’t inherited her father’s fair colouring. Neve wondered, if her and Kit had a child would the baby be fair, like them? A little pang of desire made itself known in her stomach.
‘I am sorry, I really am,’ she said, taking the flannel away. Fortunately, the pink mark was going down.
‘I’m going to tell Dad,’ said Poppy, as Neve replaced the flannel on her face.
Neve swallowed hard. ‘I didn’t mean to,’ she said. How would she explain this to Kit? She couldn’t even remember having the conscious thought to slap Poppy. If it wasn’t for the hand mark, Neve wouldn’t have believed it possible.
‘I’m going to tell Dad you kissed Jake,’ said Poppy. ‘Neve and Jake sitting in a tree, K I S S I N G.’
‘Don’t start that again,’ said Neve, with a steel in her voice that surprised her. ‘Just stop now.’ And then she added in a softer voice. ‘Please?’
‘OK,’ Poppy said and then fell silent.
Neve knelt in front of Poppy. ‘Look, I don’t think it’s a good idea to tell Dad anything. Not about Jake and not about what’s just happened.’
‘Why?’
‘Because he’ll get angry. And neither of us like it when he’s cross, do we?’ She hated herself for manipulating Poppy’s thoughts like this, but she had no choice. ‘And anyway, I was just saying thank you to Jake for helping me.’
‘Dad will be cross with you,’ said Poppy.
‘And he might be cross with you too,’ said Neve. ‘For singing a silly song and not listening to me.’
‘I did when you said please.’
‘I know. Let’s just forget about it. We were both in the wrong.’
The sound of the door closing and Kit calling out, made Neve and Poppy look towards the bathroom door in unison.
‘Helloooo!’ came Kit’s voice from the foot of the stairs. ‘Anyone home?’
‘Up here!’ called back Neve. ‘Won’t be a minute.’
As she went downstairs, Neve could feel the butterflies in her stomach, so she took time to regulate her breathing in a bid to appear unruffled. Maybe Kit wouldn’t notice the red mark on Poppy’s face. With any luck he’d be preoccupied with work or his lap top or phone, like he often was.
‘How’s Poppy?’ asked Kit as Neve came into the kitchen.
‘She’s OK. I spoke to her teacher and she said she had quite a good day.’
‘Where is she?’
‘She’s up in her room. Leave her for now.’
‘I’ll call her down,’ said Kit, ignoring Neve. Clearly, any hope that he would be preoccupied was wasted. ‘Poppy! Poppy, come down. I want to speak to you.’
Neve took another steadying breath. This was not going to plan at all. She heard Poppy’s feet on the staircase.
‘Hi Dad.’
Neve picked up on the note of caution in Poppy’s greeting
‘Hiya, darling. Neve phoned me today and told me what happened at the bus stop. Are you …’ The abrupt stop to the sentence was all Neve needed to know he had spotted the mark on Poppy’s face. ‘What the hell …’ Kit muttered.
‘She’s OK,’ said Neve, stepping forward and putting an arm around Poppy’s shoulders. ‘Aren’t you, Poppy?’
Poppy nodded obligingly, an uncertain look in her eyes.
‘Well,