Losing You by Nicci French

they’ll be there for ages, they said. I just wanted to know about Charlie. Has she come back yet?’
    ‘No, she hasn’t, and I can’t stop now, Eamonn.’
    ‘But – ’
    ‘If you think of anything, Eamonn, or hear anything, let me know, will you? I’m going to dash now.’ A thought struck me. ‘You don’t happen to know Jay Birche, do you?’
    His face flamed and an odd little smirk twisted his lips. ‘Him? He’s a turd. Thinks he’s so fine. Little private-school idiot.’
    I was taken aback by Eamonn’s outburst. ‘Live and let live, eh? Listen, I might come and talk to you later.’
    ‘Is he with Charlie, then?’
    ‘I don’t know. It doesn’t look like it.’
    As I drove off, my mobile rang. It was Rory. ‘Any news?’ he asked.
    ‘Some things are missing from her bedroom.’
    ‘So she’s staying with someone?’
    ‘I don’t know.’
    ‘Did you two have a row, Nina?’
    ‘No.’
    ‘You mean not ever?’
    ‘I mean that she didn’t leave because of a row.’
    ‘I hear you talked to Tina.’
    I was at a loss for a moment. Then I remembered whom he was talking about. ‘Oh, yes.’
    ‘I was meaning to tell you about her.’
    ‘Rory, this isn’t really the time.’
    ‘It was difficult being on my own.’
    ‘Rory…’
    ‘She’s been a rock for me.’
    I drew the car in beside the cafe´ opposite the library. As soon as I stopped, there was a tap on the window. I lowered it and saw a dark uniform.
    ‘Excuse me, madam,’ said a familiar voice, ‘are you aware that it’sanoffence to use a mobile phone while driving?’
    It was the policeman. Mahoney.
    ‘Got to go,’ I said to Rory, and then pleadingly, ‘Oh, God, I’m sorry. I’m still searching for my daughter. I’ve been on the phone solidly. That was my husband. I’m really sorry.’
    ‘Have you heard anything?’ Mahoney said.
    ‘I’m looking for someone now. He might know.’
    ‘And you’re on a yellow line,’ he said.
    ‘I’ll be five minutes,’ I said. ‘And please tell me if you hear anything at all.’
    I ran towards the cafe´ and looked through the window. Two old men at one table, eggs and bacon and a cloud of cigarette smoke. At another a young woman was sitting with a toddler. This was hopeless. He could be anywhere. I walked along the street to Beans, where you can read newspapers and drink about twenty-seven different kinds of coffee. I went inside. In one corner a group of teenage boys was sitting around a table full of oversized coffee cups, ashtrays and cigarette packets. I walked over to them. ‘Is one of you Jay Birche?’
    A boy looked up. I immediately recognized him from the surprise party. He was about seventeen. Dark hair, pale, stubbly skin, grey eyes that were almost green, clothes worn in layers, as if he’d just got out of bed and pulled on whatever was at hand. He had about him a slouchy, unkempt beauty that reminded me at once of Charlie.
    ‘I’m Charlie’s mother.’ He raised his eyebrows but didn’t move from his place. I started to speak, then felt awkward. ‘Can we have a word? In private?’
    He half grimaced at his companions, as if to say, ‘Old people, what can you do?’ then got up and followed me outside.
    ‘I’m Nina,’ I said. ‘We’ve not met but Ashleigh told me you’re a friend of Charlie’s. Is that true?’
    ‘What’s the problem?’ he said.
    ‘She’s disappeared,’ I said. ‘I don’t know where she is. I wondered if you knew?’
    ‘Disappeared?’
    ‘We were meant to fly to the States this afternoon but she never came home.’
    ‘I haven’t seen her today,’ he said. ‘I thought she’d be at your party, but you know Charlie. She’s not the most reliable person in the world, is she?’
    ‘You haven’t any idea where she might have gone?’
    ‘No.’
    ‘You don’t go to school on the island?’
    At this his expression broke into a half-smile. ‘I’m at the high school.’
    The private school on the estuary by Hemsleigh; that made