‘This is the National Return Letter Centre. We handle undeliverable mail.’
‘Can you try another address?’
‘What address, sir?’
‘You must have records… on computer. Type in the name Chloe Tyler, see what comes up. Or you could try Chloe Chambers.’
‘We don’t have such a capability, sir. Where should we return the parcel?’
‘I don’t want it returned. I want it delivered.’
‘That has not been possible, sir. What action would you like us to take?’
‘I paid the fucking postage. You deliver it.’
‘Please don’t swear, sir. We have permission to hang up on customers who use abusive language.’
‘Fuck off!’
I slam the handset down. It bounces on the cradle and settles again. The phone rings again. At least I didn’t break it.
My father is calling. He wants to know when I’m coming to see him.
‘I’ll come tomorrow.’
‘What time?’
‘Afternoon.’
‘What time in the afternoon?’
‘What does it matter- you never go anywhere.’
‘I might go to bingo.’
‘Then I’ll come in the morning.’
27
Alice Furness has three aunts, two uncles, two grandparents and a great grandfather who all seem to be competing to show the most compassion. Alice can’t take a step without one of them jumping to her side and asking her how she feels, if she’s hungry, or what they can get for her?
Ruiz and I are made to wait in the living room. The large semi-detached house on the outskirts of Bristol belongs to Sylvia’s sister, Gloria, who seems to be holding the clan together. She’s in the kitchen, discussing with other family members whether we should be allowed to interview Alice.
The great grandfather isn’t taking part. He’s sitting in an armchair, staring at us. His name is Henry and he’s older than Methuselah (one of my mother’s sayings).
‘Gloria,’ Henry bellows, frowning towards the kitchen.
His daughter appears. ‘What is it, Dad?’
‘These fellas want to interview our Alice.’
‘We know that, Dad, that’s what we’re discussing.’
‘Well, hurry up then. Don’t keep them waiting.’
Gloria smiles apologetically and goes back to the kitchen.
Sylvia Furness must have been the youngest sister. Her older siblings have entered that long, uncertain period of middle age where years are not a faithful measure of life. Their husbands are less vocal or interested- I can see them through the French doors in the back garden, smoking and discussing men’s business.
The debate in the kitchen is getting heated. I can hear servings of pop psychology and cliches. They’re protective of Alice, which I understand, but she’s already talked to the detectives.
Agreement is reached. One aunt will sit with Alice during the interview- a thin woman in a dark skirt and cardigan. Her name is Denise and like a magician she produces a never-ending supply of tissues from the sleeve of her cardigan.
Alice has to be coaxed from a computer screen. She is a sullen-faced pre-teen, with a down-turned mouth and apple cheeks that owe more to her diet than her bone structure. Dressed in jeans and a rugby jumper, her arms are folded around a bundle of white fur- a rabbit with long pink-fringed ears that lie flat along its body.
‘Hello, Alice.’
She doesn’t acknowledge me. Instead she asks for a cup of tea and a biscuit. Denise obeys without hesitation.
‘When is your father due to arrive?’ I ask.
She shrugs.
‘You must miss him. Does he go away often?’
‘Yes.’
‘What does he do?’
‘He’s a drug dealer.’
Denise draws a sharp breath. ‘That’s not very nice, dear.’
Alice corrects herself. ‘He works for a drug company.’ She sniffs at her aunt. ‘It’s just a joke, you know.’
‘Very funny,’ says Ruiz.
Alice narrows her eyes, unsure of whether to trust him.
‘Tell me about Monday afternoon,’ I say.
‘I came home and Mum wasn’t here. She didn’t leave a note. I waited for a while, but then I got hungry.’
‘What did you do then?’
‘I called Auntie Gloria.’
‘Who had a key to the flat?’
‘Mum and me.’
‘Anyone else?’
‘No.’
Ruiz is fidgeting. ‘Did your mother ever invite men home?’
She giggles. ‘You mean boyfriends?’
‘I mean male friends.’
‘Well, she liked Mr Pelicos, my English teacher. We call him “the Pelican” because he has a big nose. And Eddie from the video shop comes round after work sometimes. He brings DVDs. I’m not allowed to watch them. He and Mum use the TV in her bedroom.’
Denise tries to shush her. ‘My sister was happily married. I don’t think you should be asking Alice questions like that.’
She produces another tissue from her sleeve.
The rabbit has crawled up Alice’s front and tries to burrow beneath her chin. She giggles. The smile transforms her.
‘Does he have a name?’ I ask.
‘Not yet.’
‘He must be new.’
‘Yes. I found him.’
‘Where?’
‘In a box outside our flat.’
‘When was that?’
‘On Monday.’
‘When you came home from your riding lesson?’
She nods.
‘Tell me exactly what you found.’
She sighs. ‘The door was unlocked. There was a box on the mat. Mum wasn’t home.’
‘Was there a note with the box?’
‘Just my name written on the side.’
‘Do you know who left it for you?’
