Seven Days Read online

  He had not tried again.

  It had confused her, at first, but afterwards she had understood what had happened. He wanted a relationship. He wanted her to enjoy it, as though they were girlfriend and boyfriend. Wife and husband.

  The idea sickened her. The idea terrified her. It showed her just how delusional he was.

  When it was over, he stood up. She turned to look at him. He gestured to the plates, and she scrambled to pick them up. She walked to him and put them in his outstretched hands. Up close his skin was sallow, his face badly shaved. His eyes were sunken and red-rimmed and he looked tired.

  He looked ill.

  Maggie had a sudden sense that things had changed, that she – and Max – were becoming a burden to him. Maybe he no longer wanted her there. Maybe he would welcome the chance to be rid of them. After all, he was getting older, and he must be wondering what to do with them.

  Hope surged in her. There was – perhaps – a crack in the wall. She could offer him a way out. Make it easy for him.

  This was it. This was her chance.

  ‘Can I ask you something?’ she said.

  The man looked at her. After a few moments he nodded.

  ‘Why don’t—’ now she was saying it, it seemed absurd, the right words hard to find – ‘would you consider – is there any chance – would you – would you let us go?’

  There was a long silence. The man blinked, almost as if he had not understood the question. Maggie carried on.

  ‘I wouldn’t say anything,’ she said. ‘I wouldn’t tell a soul, I promise. You could drop us off hundreds of miles from here and I’d tell people I didn’t know where we’d been. I’d say I had no memory, and Max is too young to say anything. I don’t want to get you in trouble. I don’t hate you. I just want us to be free. It would work, it really would.’

  He stared at her, motionless.

  ‘And then you’d be rid of us,’ she said. ‘You wouldn’t have to be back and forth all the time, bringing food, worrying how we were. You could get on with your life, and we would never mention you. I mean, I don’t even know your name!’

  He tilted his head, and for a moment she thought she saw a softening in his expression, and she was sure he was going to say yes, he was actually going to say yes.

  And then he spoke.

  ‘No,’ he said, his voice low and toneless. ‘That’s impossible.’

  ‘It’s not! It’s easy! All you’d have to do is take us somewhere far away and leave us—’

  ‘That can’t happen.’

  ‘It can,’ Maggie said. ‘Of course it can, and you were thinking about it. I saw you. You were considering it. Please. Please. It’s a good idea. Please.’

  He shook his head. ‘No. I can’t.’

  ‘Why? Why not?’

  He pointed at Max. ‘Because of him.’

  ‘Max?’ Maggie said. ‘He’s still a baby! He has no idea who you are. How can it be because of him? He won’t say anything!’

  ‘He doesn’t need to. He’s my son.’

  Maggie felt a growing confusion. Was he saying that he felt some paternal instinct towards Max? That keeping him here was some weird parenting method, and that he didn’t want to be apart from him?

  ‘You can see him whenever you want,’ she said. ‘I prom—’

  ‘That’s not it,’ he said. ‘He has my DNA.’

  ‘I don’t understand,’ Maggie said. ‘I don’t see how that’s a problem.’

  ‘They’ll look at his DNA and it will lead them to me. They have my DNA in their system. They take it for anything. So the answer is no.’

  ‘They can’t do that! It’s not possible!’

  ‘Maybe not. But it might be possible, and that’s enough. I can’t take that risk.’

  ‘Then I won’t let them have Max’s DNA. I’m his mum. I can stop them taking it.’

  ‘They will anyway.’ He shook his head. ‘It’s not going to happen.’

  Maggie watched him walk across the room, his thick ankles clicking above his slippers. He took the key from the chain around his wrist and unlocked the door, and then he was gone.

  Maggie sank on to the bed. Tears welled up; for a moment she’d believed that the end of this nightmare had come, but, like every other hope she’d had for the last decade it had come to nothing.

  She looked at the calendar.

  S

  Su

  M

  Tu

  W

  Th

  F

  1

  2

  3

  4

  5

  6

  7

  8

  9

  10

  11

  12

  13

  14

  15

  16

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  18

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  20

  21

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  23

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  25

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  27

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  29

  30

  Sunday was over. Tomorrow was Monday. Five days until he took Max. She had to find a way to save her son. She had to.

  But she had had to for a long time, and there was no reason to believe that in the next five days she would be any more successful.

  Twelve Years Earlier, 7 July 2006: Evening

  1

  Martin Cooper held the phone to his ear and dialled his niece’s mobile. He read the time on the display: 18.17. Maggie had said she would be back for dinner but she had not showed up. He wasn’t too concerned – she was fifteen and could stay out past dinner if she wanted to, but he would have liked her to let him know, which was why he was calling Anne. It would be an opportunity to remind his teenage daughter that it would be polite to tell the people who were cooking a meal for you that you wouldn’t be coming.

  Anne’s voice came on the line. ‘Hey.’

  ‘Anne. This is Uncle Martin.’

  ‘Oh,’ Anne said. ‘Hi. How are you?’

  ‘I’m good. Could I have a chat to Maggie?’

  ‘Maggie? She’s not here.’

  Martin felt himself become more alert. ‘I thought she was with you?’

  ‘I haven’t seen her. She said she might come over, but she didn’t show up.’

  Martin frowned. ‘That’s what she told me, too. Do you know where she went?’

  ‘Probably to see Kevin. Or maybe Fern.’ Anne paused, then said, with a laugh. ‘You should get her a mobile phone, Uncle Martin, then you could call her anytime you wanted.’

  For a second, Martin thought this was staged. He had a mental image of Maggie telling Anne she’d stay out until her dad called and asked where she was, so Anne could make the point that it was time to get her a phone of her own. Then Maggie would come on the line and say, See, Dad? I need a mobile phone. She may be right; perhaps it was time. At fifteen, she was out on her own a lot more. He and Sandra had agreed that she could have one when she turned sixteen, but perhaps they would have to bring it forward. It was such an expense, though, and then James – still only fourteen – would demand one too.

  She did not come on the line, though. Anne’s voice returned instead:

  ‘If I hear from her, I’ll tell her you’re looking for her,’ she said.

  ‘Thanks, Anne,’ Martin said. ‘Call me the minute you hear, would you?’

  He hung up, then called Kevin’s home number. As the phone rang he felt a mounting sense of worry. He dismissed it; it was not that late, and there was almost certainly nothing wrong.

  But still. You never knew.

  Kevin’s dad, Brendan, answered.

  ‘Hi, Bren,’ Martin said. ‘I was wondering whether Maggie’s with you?’

  ‘Nope,’ Brendan replied. ‘Not seen her. Let me grab Kev. See if he knows.’

  A few moments later, Kevin came on the line. ‘Hi, Mr Cooper,’ he said. ‘Are you looking for Mags?’

  ‘Yes. Have you seen her
?’

  ‘She was out in town this morning with Fern. Me and Mark met her at McDonald’s. We were going to hang out tonight. She said she’d call when she was home and I could come and watch a film.’

  ‘She’s not back yet. You haven’t seen her since this morning?’

  ‘She said she was going to Anne’s this afternoon.’ Kevin hesitated. ‘At least, I think she did.’

  ‘She told me that, too,’ Martin replied. ‘But Anne hasn’t seen her.’

  ‘Maybe Anne wasn’t there when Mags showed up,’ Kevin said. ‘She would have gone to Fern’s.’

  ‘Thanks. I’ll try her there.’

  Martin hung up, then selected Fern from speed-dial. She had a place on it, unlike Kevin, which he had heard Kevin ask Maggie about. He’d sounded a little desperate, and Maggie had sounded a little exasperated. He wasn’t sure how much longer their relationship would last. He’d be sorry to see Kevin go; he was solid and unthreatening, and Martin preferred that to some nineteen-year-old thug with a driving licence and a car that struggled through its MOT every year.

  Fern answered. She had no more information than Kevin; she had seen Maggie that morning and thought she was planning to go to Anne’s. She ended the call by offering to call around and see if anyone knew anything.

  Martin was about to say, No, don’t worry, I’m sure she’ll show up, but he caught himself.

  ‘Yes,’ he said. ‘That would be very helpful.’

  2

  Martin turned the gas hob on and put a pan of water on it. He stirred the Bolognese sauce. As the water began to bubble he heard the front door open.

  Here she is, he thought, and walked out of the kitchen and into the hall.

  It was Sandra and James. James was in his football kit, his bag over his shoulder. He slung it on to the stairs.

  ‘Don’t leave that blocking the stairs,’ Sandra said. ‘Go and put it away. And tidy your room while you’re up there.’ She looked at Martin and shook her head. ‘He’s a savage,’ she said.

  Martin didn’t answer. She frowned. ‘Everything OK?’

  Martin had a tense, almost nauseous, feeling in his stomach. Even though there was probably a simple explanation, he couldn’t avoid thinking the worst. He knew he was unnecessarily anxious, what his mum had called a ‘worry-wart’; whenever Sandra was out at night he couldn’t go to sleep until she was home, visions of car crashes or worse swimming in his head – but knowing he worried too much didn’t help. He was not the kind of father or husband or son who could relax and wait for news to come under the assumption it would be good. For him, no news was always bad news.

  ‘I thought you were Maggie,’ he said. ‘She’s not back yet. I called Anne and a couple of others. No one’s seen her.’

  Sandra stared at him. For a moment there was worry in her eyes, but then she smiled. Unlike him, Sandra assumed that things were generally OK. ‘She’s a fifteen-year-old girl,’ she said. ‘She’s probably with a different friend. Or at the cinema.’

  ‘She should have told us.’

  ‘Yes, she should. But she didn’t. She’s not a little girl any more, Martin.’

  ‘I know.’ He took a deep breath. ‘I still worry though.’

  ‘I know you do. It’s one of your more attractive traits.’

  ‘It might be time to get her a phone,’ he said. ‘Then this won’t happen again.’

  ‘That’s probably why she’s stayed out,’ Sandra replied. ‘So she finally gets the white whale, the elusive mobile phone.’

  ‘Not fair!’ The call came from the top of the stairs. ‘If she gets a phone, I want one!’

  ‘You’re fourteen,’ Martin replied. ‘Not a chance. And wash your hands before dinner. It’s nearly ready.’

  3

  He didn’t eat dinner; he couldn’t. His stomach was tight and clenched and the spaghetti bolognese on his plate looked totally unappetizing.

  James nodded at his plate. ‘Can I have that?’

  Evidently his son was not feeling the same way. Martin passed it over and stood up. He looked at the clock over the sideboard. It was nearly seven p.m. Maggie had never stayed out this late without letting them know; she always told them when she was going to be out, and where she was going to be.

  Not this time. Maybe it had slipped her mind, but he didn’t think so. She was somewhere, and someone knew where that was.

  He went to the phone in the hall and called Kevin.

  ‘Have you seen her?’ he asked, when Kevin picked up.

  ‘No. I was waiting for her to call. About coming over.’

  ‘Any ideas where she might be?’

  ‘No,’ he said. He sounded as worried as Martin, although Martin suspected it was for different reasons. Kevin was no doubt worried she was with another boy.

  He hung up and called Anne again. It sounded like she was in the pub.

  ‘Any sign of Maggie?’ he said.

  ‘No.’ Anne said something to someone and the noise of the pub died down. ‘Sorry about that – I’ve come outside,’ she said. ‘I couldn’t hear in there. Is everything OK, Uncle Martin?’

  ‘Maggie still hasn’t turned up.’

  ‘God,’ Anne said. ‘I hope she’s OK. I’ll ask around, shall I?’

  ‘Please. Call if you hear anything.’

  He tried more of her friends. Everyone he could think of. Chrissie – in Nottingham, but still possibly in possession of some useful information – Jeffrey, Oscar, Fern, Meg, Jessie. They always knew what the rest of them were up to.

  Except now. None of them knew anything.

  He stood with the receiver in his hand. If she wasn’t with a friend, then where was she? Images of bodies in ditches or on hospital trolleys came unbidden. He forced them away. That wasn’t it. There was another explanation, a reason she had said she was going to Anne’s and then not shown up, a reason she had not told anyone where she was.

  And he thought he might know what it was. Maybe Kevin’s fears were justified.

  She had a new boyfriend. Probably older, probably unsuitable – which was why she hadn’t told him and Sandra. And she didn’t want Kevin to find out, which was why she hadn’t told her friends.

  Apart from Chrissie. She told Chrissie everything.

  He dialled Chrissie’s number again.

  ‘Sorry to call again, Chrissie,’ he said. ‘There’s one other thing I wanted to ask you.’

  ‘That’s OK, Mr Cooper. Whatever you want.’

  ‘I know you said you don’t know where Maggie is, but is there anything I should know? Maybe she told you something and asked you not to tell me and her mum, but if she did, now is a good time to say so.’

  ‘No,’ Chrissie said. ‘There’s nothing.’

  ‘Are you sure, Chrissie? Maybe a new boyfriend she wants to keep secret?’

  ‘I promise, Mr Cooper,’ Chrissie said. ‘I promise there’s nothing.’

  She sounded – as far as he could tell – as though she was telling the truth.

  ‘OK,’ he said. ‘If anything comes to mind, or if you hear from her, call me. Anytime.’

  4

  She did not call back. No one did. By ten p.m., Sandra was as worried as him.

  They sat at the kitchen table. Sandra had a mug of tea; Martin still couldn’t stomach anything. He was sure, now, that something was seriously wrong.

  ‘Where the fucking hell is she?’ he said. He rarely swore; even now the words felt out of place in his mouth. ‘I don’t understand what she’s playing at.’

  ‘Me neither,’ Sandra said. ‘But when she does get home she’s going to be in so much trouble she won’t know which way is up for a month. She can’t do this kind of thing.’

  ‘What if something’s happened to her?’ Martin said. ‘I can’t stop picturing—’

  ‘She’s fine,’ Sandra said. ‘Don’t think like that. I did this kind of thing when I was her age. It doesn’t make it any better, but this is what teenage girls do. She’ll be in the park, drinking and smoking. O
r with another boy. She’s fifteen.’

  ‘I didn’t do this,’ Martin said. ‘I think there’s a problem, Sandy, I really do.’

  ‘You were a good boy,’ Sandra replied. ‘That’s why I married you. It looks like she has some of me in her. That’s all it is.’

  ‘Maybe,’ Martin said. ‘Maybe.’

  5

  At eleven, Martin walked out to his car. He couldn’t stay in the house, waiting, doing nothing, any longer. He had to go and find his little girl.

  He decided to start at the park. He pulled up at the entrance and walked through the gates. From somewhere in the darkness he heard talking, and saw the red glow of cigarette tips. He headed towards them.

  It was a group of four or five teenagers, boys and girls, all a year or two older than Maggie. They were smoking, bottles dangling from their hands.

  ‘Excuse me,’ he said.

  They turned to look at him, their voices falling silent.

  ‘Yeah?’ one of the boys said. ‘What?’

  ‘I was wondering if you’d seen my daughter?’

  ‘Maybe,’ the boy replied. ‘Who is she?’

  ‘Maggie. Maggie Cooper.’

  The name drew blank looks.

  ‘I haven’t,’ the boy said. ‘I don’t know her. Any of youse seen her?’

  One of the girls stepped forward. She looked younger than the others. ‘I know Maggie,’ she said. Her voice was slurred. ‘We have English together.’

  ‘Have you seen her?’

  The girl shook her head. ‘No. I mean, I seen her at school, but not out.’

  ‘Do you know where she might be? Are there other places kids hang out?’

  The girl looked at her friends and shrugged. ‘In town, maybe. Some kids go to the pubs.’

  ‘She’s a bit young for that.’

  One of the boys laughed. ‘Yeah, mate. They let anyone in, especially girls. They want them in.’

  Martin didn’t ask for what. He didn’t need to.

  ‘Which pub is most likely?’ he said.

  ‘Could be any.’ The boy sniffed. ‘You’ll have to try them all.’