Page 90 of From Now On

‘But I—’

Charlie silences his brother with solely a look and it’s the first time he’s felt any small success as a parent. Because of this he’s a little more confident as he raps on the front door.

Maeve’s eyes are bloodshot, as though she’s been crying or has had very little sleep.

‘Where is she?’ Charlie demands. There is no good cop to his bad cop but he’s come here for his sister and he isn’t leaving without her.

‘I don’t know.’ Maeve tries to close the door but Charlie pushes against it with his hand, barges into the hallway. ‘Maeve, she’s fifteen. Underage. Where is she?’

‘She’s not here.’

‘Where’s your dad?’ Charlie feels a sudden, sick dread plummet to the pit of his belly.

‘He’s gone to Tesco.’

‘Right. Good. Well, you must know where Nina is. She’s your best friend?’ Charlie’s eyes flicker to the stairs and then back to Maeve’s face.

‘You can check my bloody room if you’d like.’

Charlie strides up the stairs before she can change her mind, Maeve trotting after him.

He pushes into the first room. An adults’ room. Sean’s room. Minimalist. A double bed in the centre but no sign of his sister, thankfully.

‘My room’s down here,’ Maeve says but Charlie ignores her, throwing open the next door to a room that contains a desk and a stack of boxes, clothes spilling out them. Women’s clothes. Maeve’s mother’s clothes, he realizes with a pang of guilt. He forgets sometimes that it isn’t only his family that has experienced tragedy.

He silently follows Maeve as she leads him to her bedroom.

‘See. You can check under the bed and in the wardrobe if you want.’

Feeling faintly ridiculous, Charlie does both of those things.

Nina isn’t here.

‘But she was here? Last night?’ he clarifies.

‘Yes,’ Maeve says quietly.

‘Can you think of anywhere else she might have gone? Anyone else she might have gone to?’ Charlie asks her a string of other questions and she replies to all in a series of shrugs.

‘Maeve, please. I’m going frantic.’ If she’d gone to Pippa’s then Pippa would have called him. He can’t think of anywhere else she might have stayed overnight.

Maeve covers her lips with her fingers and Charlie thinks she is pushing the words she wants to say back inside her mouth.

‘Please tell me. Did something happen last night? Something I should know about?’

Maeve stares at the carpet. There’s a splodge of purple nail varnish shining among the cream pile.

‘You’re her best friend. She’s been gone all night. I know she doesn’t have any money. She could be… she could be…’ He sinks down on Maeve’s bed. ‘I need to know she’s safe?’ He is one step away from dropping to his knees and pleading. ‘Where is she?’

‘I… I don’t know but she…’

Maeve glances out of the window, the branches of the oak tap-tap-tapping against the glass.

Tell him – tell him – tell him.

‘Please. I need…’ He longs to be a writer but he cannot find the words.

‘She thinks she saw her dad. On a YouTube video. Busking in Cornwall.’

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