Page 122 of The Love Letter
‘No clothes, although it was pocket-money day yesterday, so he might well have that. Miss Harrison, I don’t wish to panic you, and I’m sure he’s fine, but the truth is that I’m concerned that, under the circumstances, there’s a very small chance that Jamie may have been abducted.’
Zoe put her hand to her mouth. ‘Oh my God, oh God! Have you called the police?’
‘That’s obviously why I’m calling you. I wanted to ask your permission to do so.’
‘Yes, oh yes! Do it immediately. I’ll make arrangements to fly home as soon as possible. Please, Dr West, ring me the instant you have any news.’
‘Of course. Try to keep calm, Miss Harrison. I’m only erring on the side of caution. This kind of thing is relatively common: a spat with a friend, a telling-off from a master . . . The boy is usually back within a few hours. And it may just be that simple. I’m going to interview all the boys in his class now, see if they can shed any light on his disappearance.’
‘Yes, thank you. G-goodbye, Dr West.’
Zoe stood up from the bed, her entire body shaking, trying to garner her courage. ‘P-please G-God . . . anything, I’ll give anything, just let him be okay, let him be okay!’
‘Señora? Are you all right?’
Maria received no response.
‘I go get ’is Royal ’ighness, okay?’
Art entered the room a few minutes later. ‘Darling, whatever is it?’
‘It’s Jamie!’ She looked at him with agonised eyes. ‘He’s gone missing from school. His headmaster thinks he might have been abducted!’ Zoe palmed the tears from her eyes. ‘If anything has happened to him because of my selfishness, I—’
‘Hold on now, Zoe. I want you to listen to me. All boys run away from school. Even I did once, sent my detectives into a spin, and—’
‘Yes, but youhaddetectives, didn’t you?! I asked you if Jamie was going to get some protection but you said it wasn’t necessary, and now look what’s happened!’
‘There is absolutely no reason to suspect foul play. I’m sure Jamie is fine and will arrive back at the school as right as rain in time for supper, so—’
‘If there was no reason to suspect foul play, then why on earth did you givemea bodyguard and not your ownson? Your own son, who is far more vulnerable than I am! Oh God! Oh God!’
‘Zoe!Will you calm down. You’re blowing this out of proportion.’
‘What?! My son goes missing and you accuse me of being overdramatic! Get me on a plane home,now!’ Zoe began throwing things on top of the half-packed suitcase.
‘Now you really are being silly. Certainly, if he hasn’t turned up by tomorrow morning, then we’ll get you home, but for tonight, come on the boat and enjoy supper with Antonio and Mariella. They’re so looking forward to meeting you. It’ll help take your mind off it.’
Zoe threw a shoe at him in frustration. ‘Take my mind off it! Jesus Christ! It’s my son we’re talking about, not some family pet that’s gone off for a wander! Jamie is missing! I can’t float round the Med enjoying myself while my child, my baby –’ Zoe gave a huge sob – ‘might be in danger.’
‘You’re going completely over the top.’ Art’s lips pursed together in irritation. ‘Besides, I doubt we can get you home tonight. You’ll have to fly out in the morning.’
‘No, youcanget me home tonight, Art. You’re a prince, remember? Your wish is everyone else’s command. Get a plane herenowto take me back, or I’ll find one myself!’ She was shouting now, past caring what he thought of her.
‘Okay, okay.’ He put his hands out as he backed away towards the door. ‘I’ll see what I can do.’
Three hours later, Zoe was standing in the small VIP room at Mahon airport. She was travelling on a private plane to Barcelona, and then from there on a late BA flight to Heathrow.
Art had not accompanied her to the airport, boarding the boat to Mallorca instead. They had said a terse goodbye as Zoe had climbed into the car, kissing each other politely on the cheek.
She fumbled in her handbag for her mobile. It would be midnight before she stepped onto British soil to search for her son. And in the meantime, there was only one person she could trust completely to help her find him.
Zoe dialled his number, praying he’d answer. He did.
‘Hello?’
‘Simon? It’s Zoe Harrison.’
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