Warhol's Prophecy

‘Did you get married on the beach?’ Christine asked with genuine interest.

‘No, in a church. Just the two of us, and a couple of locals they hauled in to be witnesses. Then we went back to the hotel for photos.’

Hailey looked at her watch. ‘How long now since the announcement was read out?’

‘About five minutes.’

‘It feels like hours.’

Christine reached across the table and gently touched her hand.

‘You can go back to work if you like,’ Hailey said. ‘I’m not going anywhere, am I?’

Again she glanced at her watch.

It felt as if time had stopped, and she wondered if it would ever begin again.

4

HOURS . . . MINUTES . . . SECONDS . . .

Hailey had lost track of time and its meaning. All its divisions seemed to have blurred into one. Every small movement of her watch seemed to take an eternity. She eventually checked her own timepiece against the clock on the wall behind her.

How long had she been sitting here now?

An hour. Two hours? Longer?

Thirty-seven minutes.

She swallowed hard and looked over at the phone on the desk.

No sense phoning Rob.

Not yet.

She looked at her watch again, as if by doing so she would cause it to speed up – cause time to accelerate.

Where is Becky?

Hailey could hear sounds of organized chaos from the information office outside. Occasionally she heard children’s voices. More than once she had been tempted to run to the door and look out, in the vain hope that one of those voices belonged to Becky. She could picture the scenario in her mind: she would hear the voice, rush out to see her daughter, they would fall into each other’s arms, cry, hug each other, and all the pain would turn to joy. Then they would happily head for home.

And the other scenario?

The policeman would enter the office quietly and officiously, with Christine Palmer behind him, and he would apologize for what had happened to Becky, and he would ask Hailey if she could come with him to the hospital to identify the body of a little girl in a red coat, wearing a white sweatshirt and black leggings. A body that they’d found in an abandoned car no more than five minutes’ drive from the city centre.

Hailey tried to drive this particular chain of events from her mind, but it stuck there stubbornly. What initially had been fear was turning into icy conviction.

Thirty-eight minutes.

She was also beginning to wonder why she was the only parent in this room. If, as Christine Palmer had assured her, fifteen or twenty children went missing every day in this shopping centre, why had she not been joined by other devastated parents? Was hers to be the only lost child today? Was she to suffer alone?

She lit up another cigarette, took a couple of drags, then stubbed it out in her empty styrofoam cup.

Jesus Christ, she felt so helpless. She wanted someone to put an arm around her and tell her everything was going to be all right.

Rob, perhaps?

She feared it might be the comforting arm of a policewoman instead.

Hailey looked up as the door to the small office opened and Christine Palmer peered round.

She was smiling.

Hailey saw a small shape push past her.

Heard a word shouted.

‘Mum!’

Dear God, what a joyous sound.

Becky swept into the room and crashed into Hailey, who had already dropped to one knee, throwing her arms around her daughter and lifting her into the air, tears flowing freely down her cheeks. She held onto her child so tightly it seemed she must break her in half. Hailey didn’t want to let go of her again, ever.

Becky was smiling, kissing her mother and, by the look of it, altogether less concerned about her recent predicament than Hailey had been. She looked hard at her daughter, checking her face as if searching for any telltale signs of injury. She didn’t even see puffy, red eyes – no sign of tears. No indication that Becky had been as distraught as Hailey through this ordeal.

‘Are you OK?’ Hailey smoothed a hand through her daughter’s hair.

‘Yes, Mum,’ Becky said, her blue eyes like sapphires lit from behind by incandescent light.

Hailey hugged her again, for brief seconds fearing that she was imagining all this. She looked into her daughter’s face once again, then touched both her cheeks with her shaking hands.

‘Where did you get to?’ Hailey said finally, a slight edge to her voice, her concern now almost overridden by anger. ‘Why did you walk away from me? I’ve told you before never to leave me when we’re out in a crowd.’

‘I went to look for a CD for Dad,’ Becky said apologetically. ‘I could still see you from where I was. Then some men stood in front, and I couldn’t see you. You ran away.’

‘Because I thought I’d lost you,’ Hailey snapped. ‘I was looking for you.’

Again she hugged her daughter. ‘Are you sure you’re all right?’ she persisted. ‘No one touched you, did they? Where have you been all this time?’

‘Adam found me,’ said Becky, turning. Now, for the first time, Hailey noticed that there was someone else at the door.

She straightened up, still holding Becky as if frightened to release her.

The newcomers moved sheepishly into the room, nervous of intruding on this reunion. One wore the dark blue uniform of a security guard.

‘That’s Adam,’ said Becky, jabbing her small index finger in the direction of the other man by the doorway.

‘Adam Walker,’ he said, smiling.

‘My name’s Stuart Jenkins,’ the uniformed man told her. ‘I’m with Security here.’ There was an officiousness to his tone.

‘Where did you find her?’ asked Hailey.

‘By the fountain outside,’ Walker said. ‘She was looking at the fish – weren’t you?’ He winked at Becky, who smiled coyly.

‘What were you doing by the fountain?’ Hailey demanded of her daughter. ‘That’s nowhere near where we got separated.’

‘Mr Walker actually prevented an accident,’ Jenkins offered. ‘Your daughter wandered outside onto the road. If it hadn’t been for Mr Walker’s intervention . . .’ He allowed the sentence to trail off.

‘What were you doing out on the road?’ Hailey rasped, gripping her daughter by the arm. ‘You could have been killed.’

‘I was looking for the car,’ Becky said, tears welling. ‘I thought I’d wait for you there.’

Walker cut the child short. ‘You’ve got her back, that’s all that matters,’ he said, still smiling that infectious smile.

He took a step back.

‘I’ll leave you alone now,’ he said, retreating. ‘Unless there’s anything else I can do to help. Do you need a lift home or anything? You must be a bit shaken up after what’s happened.’

‘We’ll be OK. Thanks for offering, though.’