As Callum drove them back to London, breaking speed limits on both motorways, Joely and Marianne explained about Freda, what she wanted from Marianne and how she’d used Joely to get it. ‘It was manipulative to the point of crazy,’ Joely said, letting her head fall back against the seat as everything throbbed. ‘She’s clearly lost all sense of perspective on what happened to her brother … And I still don’t know what did,’ she said to her mother. ‘Did he go to prison?’
‘Yes, he did,’ Marianne answered quietly.
‘I don’t care about him,’ Callum said brusquely. ‘I’m more interested in my daughter being used to get to you, Marianne. Am I right? Is that what’s happening here?’
‘So did he, or didn’t he rape you?’ Joely demanded from the back seat.
Marianne clasped her hands to her face. ‘There’s so much more to it, Joely,’ she cried wretchedly. ‘What happened back then … I never … He …’
Realizing how distraught her mother was becoming Joely said, ‘OK, we need to calm this down. We’ve called the police, and we’ll soon be there ourselves.’
Several minutes passed in silence as they left the M4 and sped across the Chiswick flyover into London. They were approaching the outskirts of Kensington when Callum’s temper flared again, ‘I can hardly believe this, Joely. Not once during all the years you were a reporter dealing with some of the worst types of humanity did it ever come home with you. Now you’re supposed to be a safe and respectable ghostwriter and we get this …’ He broke off as his phone rang.
It was the police calling back.
‘An officer has been to the house,’ a female voice informed them, ‘but there doesn’t appear to be anyone at home.’
‘Did anyone try to get in?’ he almost shouted.
‘I believe so, but the doors and windows were locked and there was no sign of a disturbance.’
‘But I told you, we think someone could be …’ He stopped as Joely pressed his shoulder.
‘We’re almost there,’ she reminded him. ‘They haven’t got in, so there’s no point arguing.’
Minutes after ending the call he pulled up outside Marianne’s house and Joely threw open the rear passenger door to climb out.
‘For God’s sake,’ he cried, leaping out to help her.
‘Let’s just get in there,’ she said, and hardly feeling the pain racking her shoulder she started up the path.
Marianne was right behind them, taking out her keys, but before she could insert them in the door it opened wide.
All three of them froze.
‘Where’s Holly?’ Joely demanded pushing her way past Freda.
Freda didn’t answer, simply stood aside for them to enter as if it were her home they were barging their way into.
‘Where’s Holly?’ Joely shouted, from the sitting room.
Marianne went through to the kitchen. ‘She’s not here,’ she cried shrilly.
Glaring at Freda, Callum growled, ‘Where is my daughter? What have you done with her?’
‘I know who you are,’ Freda told him, ‘you’re the cheating husband …’
‘Freda!’ Joely shouted. ‘Where is Holly?’
‘She’s gone,’ Freda replied.
‘Gone where?’
Freda fluttered her fingers through the air, and with a small puff of air she flicked them out in a fan.
‘Oh Christ,’ Joely cried, recognizing the movement. ‘What have you done to her, Freda? She’s only a child. This has nothing to do with her.’
‘I’ll check upstairs,’ Callum said, and taking them two at a time he threw open the door to every room, but the only sign of Holly was her school bag and uniform dumped on the bed, and the usual clutter of shoes, hairdryer, brushes and cosmetics scattered about the place.
In the hall, Marianne said to Freda, ‘I understand what you want, and I promise I’ll give it to you, but you must tell us where Holly is.’
Freda glanced at Joely who was using Callum’s phone to call Holly again.
‘No reply,’ Joely said, as it went to messages.
‘Try texting,’ Callum instructed from the stairs. ‘She’s better at responding to that.’
Joely tapped in, Where are you? and pressed send.
She turned to Freda again and found her staring at Marianne. It was disturbing to see how superior she appeared to consider herself in someone else’s home, how in control she apparently felt – and how ready she was for this confrontation. Joely’s eyes moved to her mother. Marianne was holding the stare with a steel and confidence of her own, and yet there was