All That Is Lost Between Us (33 page)

A
s I watch Callum racing up the hill, there's an almighty pressure building in my brain. I'm close to hyperventilating as I turn to the officials. There is already a flurry of activity, people leaning over paperwork, running pens down the sides of lists. I hear a familiar name mentioned, and freeze.

‘What did you just say?' I ask Jimmy.

‘The sports teacher – Leo Freeman – was the last to see her. He's helping the search now.'

I dash around to the marshals' tent so I can see the list of officials and their numbers. There it is in black and white: Leo Freeman manned the penultimate checkpoint. This can't be coincidence, surely.

His mobile number is written next to his name. I key it into my phone and dial.

It goes to voicemail. I want to yell,
What the hell have you done to Georgia?
It takes all my strength to restrain myself. ‘Leo, it's Anya Turner. Did you see Georgia at your checkpoint? She's not come back down the hill.' Something about this still doesn't make sense, but I don't want to let him off the hook. ‘You've got some explaining to do,' I hiss, before I hang up.

I am taking deep breaths, trying to calm myself, when I catch sight of Danny Atherton coming towards us. I skirt around the table and pounce on him. ‘I saw you arguing with Georgia before the race. What was all that about? Tell me the truth, Danny, I need to know right now.'

Danny holds his hands up in surrender. ‘She didn't want to run with me, Mrs Turner. I don't know what her problem was. When I saw her yesterday we were planning to pace each another, and then at the last minute she told me to back off. She seemed really upset, but I have no idea why.'

‘Mrs Turner!' Jimmy Davenport gets up from his chair and walks across to join us. He rests a placatory hand on my arm. ‘Take it easy. I'll bet my bottom dollar that she's sprained her ankle somewhere and she's either hobbling back to base or she's staying put until someone finds her. Either way, we'll have her down here in no time. Why don't you go and wait in the sports hall, out of the cold and the rain?'

A small crowd are beginning to gather, following a crumb trail of whispers with their twitching ears and red runny noses. ‘Where's Zac?' I ask no one in particular, searching among the faces closest to me, trying to remember the last time he was by my side. I push through people, heading back to where we were standing. ‘Zac!'

Chris Jessop appears. ‘Anya, this way.' She tugs on my arm, almost dragging me along, leading me around the side of the sports hall, to a quiet bench where Zac sits folded in on himself, his shoulders heaving as he sobs.

Chris pats my arm and leaves without a word. As I approach Zac I recall Helene's words on the phone.
‘This man Sophia's been seeing, he's so much older than her. I can't bear to think of them together. How can all this have happened right under my nose, Anya, without me having a clue? What kind of a mother am I?'

I think how neatly Helene had paraphrased my own internal commentary. I sit next to my son. ‘What's wrong, Zac? What do you know?'

‘It's all my fault, Mum,' he says, reflections of his younger years re-emerging in his crumpled face.

‘How do you figure that?' I ask, rubbing his back like I've done so many times when he's been sick or plagued by nightmares.

He won't look at me. ‘It's Georgia. I've handled everything so badly. She's never going to speak to me again.'

My body goes cold. ‘Tell me.'

He stares miserably at the ground and sighs, then begins to bite his thumbnail, something I haven't seen him do in years. ‘Okay,' he says. ‘The night Georgia and Sophia were in the accident, I found a photograph.'

I brace myself. I don't want to know. But I have to know.

‘A photo of . . .?'

Zac pauses, catching my eye, his expression pained.

‘There's no time, Zac,' I say as steadily as I can. ‘Georgia is missing. Tell me.'

‘It was a photo of Mr Freeman. He was . . . in bed.'

I want to be sick. ‘And?'

‘It's not disgusting – he was just asleep. But I think Georgia must have taken the photo.' He gulps. ‘It was hidden in her room. I saw it by accident. But – Mum, I copied it onto my phone. Not to show anyone, just – I felt I needed evidence, until I decided what to do. But it got into the wrong hands, and now it's on Facebook.'

I'm desperately trying to fit all these pieces together, to form a picture of what might have happened. ‘Does Georgia know?'

‘Danny showed it to her when they were about to start running.'

‘And what did she do?'

‘Nothing. But she looked devastated.' Zac turns away from me. ‘I'm sorry, Mum.'

My mind is reeling. These past few days I have felt paralysed by fear, but not any longer. ‘You can be sorry later,' I tell him. ‘For now, you need to help find your sister. Let's go.'

I jump up, my mind in overdrive trying to figure out my next move. Then it comes to me. Callum is heading for the woods, and he doesn't know the danger. I need to warn him about Leo.

A
s Callum stumbles up the hill he wishes he wasn't wearing wellingtons. They're fine for standing around in a muddy field but the worst footwear for a scramble – he's slipping all over the place.

‘Callum!' Over his shoulder he sees Mike McCallister scrambling up the slope after him.

‘Not now, Mike.'

‘The organisers are saying they're a runner short,' Mike gasps as he tries to keep up. It seems the man can't take a hint. ‘Is it your daughter who's missing?'

Callum clenches his jaw, keeps moving forward. ‘Yes – she's usually one of the first across the line. She must have had an accident.' He pictures Georgia prone and vulnerable somewhere on the mud-slicked course. He had heard a few of the runners mention fog. It would have been easy to get disorientated – one slip and she might have taken a hefty fall, especially on the ridge, with all that loose shale and the tenacious rain. He tries and fails to brush away the worst images of the few broken bodies he has encountered, eyes eaten to the sockets by crows. He staggers forward, grabbing at the ground, trying hard not to heave up his breakfast.

His nausea has given McCallister the chance to catch up with him. ‘Come on, mate, it's not a good idea to go rushing off alone when you're in this state. Let me help.'

‘There's no time.' Callum waves him away and pushes on, finally reaching the top of the slope.

‘Well, then, I'll come with you. You might need an extra pair of hands.'

There's no one Callum would less rather search with, but he doesn't have the strength to argue. He's about to disappear into the woods when McCallister says, ‘Hang on, shouldn't we do this in reverse?'

It's an oft-used protocol if someone has disappeared on a circular route: to begin at both ends of the journey and meet in the middle. ‘Okay,' Callum puffs, seizing the opportunity to be rid of him. ‘Let's split up. You start at the beginning, and I'll take the end.'

‘Wouldn't it be better to stick together?' McCallister calls after him, but Callum is already racing away. He doesn't want company; he doesn't need stretcher-bearers for his daughter. He's capable of the impossible when it comes to Georgia. Besides, he's the most experienced member of the mountain rescue team – whatever situation she's in, he will get her out.

He knows this route well, and tears down the track only barely aware of the orange race markers. He's fit from fell-walking, but the exertion coupled with panic is robbing him of breath. Still, he doesn't break his stride. He won't stop until he finds her.

He spots a neon-jacketed official sitting on a fallen log beside the path, his phone dangling from his hand. ‘Hey!' he shouts. ‘I'm looking for Georgia Turner. Are you a marshal? Have you seen her?'

The man starts at the sight of him, getting up quickly as Callum jogs closer. ‘I was manning checkpoint thirteen – second from last. She came through a while ago.' He stares blankly at his phone. ‘I don't understand why she would—' He falters.

Callum's senses attune to danger. ‘Why she would what?'

The marshal looks stunned. ‘I, I—' he stutters. ‘His gaze flickers back to his phone. ‘She couldn't – she wouldn't.' He catches Callum's eye, and seems to pull himself together. His voice deepens as he says, ‘I've never known her to quit before.'

The words are discomforting, but Callum can't pinpoint why. ‘You know Georgia?'

‘Of course.' There's a beat of hesitation. ‘I'm head of sports at Fairbridge.'

Callum frowns. ‘I thought Mack Devonish was—'

‘I'm new.'

‘Right.'

The man is just standing there, and Callum feels a surge of irritation. His mind flails, his thoughts twisting and turning.
Calm down
, he tells himself.
Be rational.
His fears are in danger of becoming unfocused rage.

‘Okay. Well, we need everyone helping to find Georgia. Georgia!' he yells, turning a circle as he calls. ‘She wouldn't just give up in the middle of a race. Something has happened.' A thought occurs to him. ‘Do you know the way to the spirit road?'

‘Yes.'

‘I don't know why she'd be up there, but it's the path towards our house – it's worth a look.'

The marshal nods. ‘I'll head there now,' and he dashes away with surprising speed.

Once he's gone, Callum jogs along the race route – calling, listening, looking around carefully. He tries to utilise all his hours of training, to take it steady, to engage all his senses in the hunt for clues. He reconsiders the possible scenarios, but it's as though she has vanished. Gradually, he is besieged by panic. It lays waste to all his intentions, carrying him unheeding along sections of the track, until he's travelling in time slips, glancing back at sections of ground he doesn't remember covering.

He wishes he had stuck with McCallister, because at least McCallister seemed to talk some sense and had a notion of how to help. He has a flashback to McCallister on the day of Hugh's accident; the flapping, frantic man he'd first encountered. How had he ever thought he had the measure of the man from that day? Now their roles are reversed, and Callum understands what it is to be a frightened father, terrified that harm might have come to his child on the fells, unable to reach her. By all accounts Hugh is still recovering from his injuries. Now Callum truly understands Mike McCallister's maps and initiatives to make the Lake District safer, his conscientious volunteering. It's one long attempt to come to terms with what happened to his son, in the best way he can.

His phone rings. It's Anya. ‘Anything?' he asks, picking up.

‘No, listen, Callum – there's a man up there, Leo Freeman. Don't trust him. I think something's been going on with him and Georgia.'

‘What? Who's Leo Freeman?'

‘He's the new head of sport.'

Callum's blood turns to ice. ‘I met him already. He's helping the search.' He turns around and begins to run. ‘I'll find him,' he pants, ‘don't worry.'

His words are interrupted by another incoming call. He looks at the screen and sees it's Liam. He taps the buttons to switch the call. ‘I can't talk now, I'll call you back,' he says, intending to hang up immediately and return to the search.

‘Stop – Cal, listen!' Liam is shouting. ‘I'm driving to your house – Sophia's just been on the phone to Georgia. We think Georgia's had a run-in with the woman we're after.'

Callum's surroundings drop away as his mind grapples with this new information. ‘You mean she's at home?'

‘She was heading there, but we don't think she got inside. Sophia was talking to her when it happened. Apparently Georgia was nearly home when a woman got out of a car and approached her. Sophia said it sounded like Georgia ran, there was lots of scuffling and then she got cut off.'

Callum is already sprinting back to the field, phone still to his ear.

‘You're sure about this?'

‘Cal, Sophia was hysterical. I'm running red lights. Get home
now
.'

‘Where are you?'

‘Only ten minutes from Lancaster, but I'm moving fast and I'll call a squaddie too. How soon can you get there?'

‘I'm on my way.'

As he speeds down the hill, Anya sees him coming. Her steps quicken as she senses his urgency. ‘She's at home,' he calls as he gets closer, unwilling to stop. ‘She's spoken to Sophia, but she may have met our trespasser. She could be on her way back here now.' He sees her jaw drop but he can't stop. ‘Stay put in case she turns up this end. I'll call you when I find her.'

He is sucking air noisily by the time he reaches the vehicle. He slams it into gear and takes the most direct route out, reversing over the grass. The tyres squeal as the car swings around and he floors the accelerator. Liam is too far away, and god knows how long the squad car will take. This is all on Callum.

There is only one road up to Fellmere, and he tackles it like a rally race, the back end of the car swinging wildly round the corners. As he turns into the quiet lane he sees a white car parked just beyond his house, but there is no one around. He pulls onto the driveway and jogs to the front door, fumbling with the key. Door open, he runs into the hallway, shouting ‘Georgia! Georgia!' as he goes. There is no energy to the house, he's sure she isn't here, but he dashes upstairs and checks all the bedrooms anyway.

He is inspecting his own room when he glances through the window, as a woman with long, dark hair emerges from the woods, hugging herself, hurrying back towards the parked white car.

In seconds he is back down the stairs and out onto the path, fresh adrenalin pumping through his arms and legs. ‘Hey!' he shouts as she passes by the front garden.