The School Gate Survival Guide by Kerry Fisher Page B

if you weren’t worried. The police are very skilled at this sort of thing. I’m sure they’ll find her.’
    If Mr Peters was in charge, it was almost possible to believe everything might turn out okay. The doorbell rang and I dashed to answer it, a tiny beat of hope in my heart.
    Instead of a bedraggled Bronte, a tall brunette with a pointy face, a deep voice, and her hair scraped back into a bun stood at the door.
    ‘PC Blake, but please call me Serena. This is PC Richard Tadman,’ she said, indicating a stocky man with a jolly smile.
    I showed them into the kitchen, managing not to cry. I opened my mouth to introduce Mr Peters but Serena stepped forward and held out her hand to him. ‘Hello Zachary, long time, no see. You remember Richard?’ She sounded very brisk, almost angry. Then she turned to me and said in a much more gentle tone, ‘Is there somewhere we could sit?’
    I took them through into the front room. I tried to stop bustling about like the women I worked for when they had visitors. I found myself doing that ‘Tea? Coffee?’ high-pitched voice thing as though they’d popped in for a bit of Victoria sponge on a Sunday afternoon.
    ‘I’ll make some more tea, Ms Etxeleku, you have a seat,’ Mr Peters said.
    ‘Could I take a quick look at Bronte’s bedroom?’ PC Tadman asked.
    ‘Of course, it’s the first one at the top of the stairs, says “Top Secret” on the door.’
    I perched on the settee while Serena pulled out her notebook. Autopilot got me through the basics, name, age, height, last time I saw her, the hoo-ha over the disco that morning, friends and places she might go. I flinched when she asked me if Bronte had a boyfriend.
    ‘Of course not. She’s nine years old!’
    Serena nodded. ‘I know, but girls do mature at different rates.’
    Bronte still went to bed with her toy gorilla. Whatever had happened to her, I was sure she hadn’t disappeared with a boyfriend.
    Mr Peters came back in with some tea.
    ‘Is she active on social media?’ Serena asked.
    I shook my head. ‘We haven’t got a computer at home. I’m not sure about school?’ I looked at Mr Peters.
    ‘No. The school system is set up so the children can’t access those sites,’ he said.
    I was fighting to stay calm. I just wanted Serena to stop asking questions and get out there, on the streets, searching for her.
    When she asked for a recent photo, all the fear I’d forced down burst out in some kind of wild animal wail. The sound startled me and then I laughed. It wasn’t a noise I’d heard out of myself before, nothing like my giggling at
Only Fools and Horses
or
Mrs Brown’s Boys
. It came from deep inside me, boiling up through my chest and splurging out in a wet burst of sound from the back of my throat. I had that out of control feeling as though I would never stop laughing again, even though I knew that it was wrong, really wrong.
    I felt the settee sag as Mr Peters sat down next to me, his hand gently patting my back. I leaned into him and he put his arm round me, making a quiet shushing sound. He pressed a handkerchief into my palm. Then the laughing moved into great spitty sucks of air followed by gaspy sobs and I became aware of feeling ridiculous. Serena didn’t speak, just sat there, watchful. Almost as though she was waiting for me to stand up and say, ‘Now, for my next trick.’
    I was about to pull myself away from Mr Peters, when I heard the front door open and Colin burst in.
    ‘She back?’ he said, shaking the water from his hair. I must have moved away a bit jumpily because Colin looked at me, then at Mr Peters. ‘What the hell’s going on here? You two having some kind of cuddle-fest while my daughter is God knows where?’
    I saw Mr Peters take a deep breath but Serena stepped in before he could speak. ‘Mr Caudwell! Your wife, partner, is very upset and Mr Peters was trying to comfort her. Now, please, go and put some dry clothes on and come back down. There are a few questions