She was last seen in Chengdu where she was working as a private English teacher. Lorelei is 5’3” tall and of slim build with dark hair and blue eyes.
Do you have any information?
‘Daddy and I need to talk to you about something.’
We are at the table and the boys have just eaten. I suggested to Nick we have something later, left-over stew in the freezer that needs using up.
‘The holidays?’ Finn beams.
‘No, Finn, not the holidays.’
‘A party?’
Nick touches his arm, mouths, ‘Shush.’
Isaac is still, wary.
‘You know Lori’s gone to China-’ Nick says.
‘Are we going?’ Finn jumps in.
Nick shakes his head. ‘Just listen. Well, Lori hasn’t Skyped us for a while and her phone’s not working and she’s not at her house in China, so some people are trying to find her.’
‘Is she lost?’ Finn says.
‘She might be,’ I say.
‘She should ask a policeman,’ Isaac says.
‘That’s a good idea,’ I say. ‘Perhaps she will.’
‘So,’ Nick says, ‘we’re going to be telling everybody she’s missing and asking them to help look for her.’
‘There might not be a policeman,’ Finn says.
‘A grown-up then. Ask a grown-up,’ Isaac says.
‘Lori is a grown-up,’ Finn says.
‘Anyway, we hope we find her soon but we wanted you to know what was happening.’ Nick gets to his feet. He pours himself a whisky.
‘We’ve made this,’ I say, ‘to show people.’ I have a copy of the press release. The ink’s running out on the printer so the picture is faded, the text striped with white lines.
‘Missing,’ Isaac says.
I read the rest of it out for them.
‘Hmm – like Poncho,’ Finn says.
Oh, God. Poncho was Lori’s hamster when she was about eight. Finn wasn’t even born. But it’s a family myth, how Poncho disappeared behind the radiator in the kitchen and was never seen again. How Lori sat up all night keeping vigil, with a saucer full of Poncho treats to tempt him back. How she fell asleep sitting up.
Eager to distract them from the fact that there was no happy reunion with Poncho, I say, ‘But Poncho couldn’t ask anyone the way home. He couldn’t talk, only make noises. What noises do hamsters make?’
Isaac says hamsters don’t make any noises – Sebastian has one and it never says anything. Finn says they squeak. They bicker about that for a while and I clear the table.
I stick the ‘Missing’ sheet up on the cork board. It’s as if I’m waiting for it to hit me, as though we’ve unlocked the floodgates and the water is rushing towards us but we can’t hear the roar, can’t see the torrent racing our way. There is just the caught breath of a pause, a frozen heartbeat, the unnatural stillness, pinning me in place.
