‘How long do we give them?’ Tom is on the phone to Jeremy Chadwick at the Foreign Office, badgering him. ‘It’s been a week since the Chinese police started work,’ he says, ‘and we have to hear second-hand from a mate of Lori’s, who had the decency to get in touch, that Lori was seen on Friday, the fourth, two days later than we thought. Why are the police not keeping us updated?’
‘They may wish to complete their enquiries-’
‘No, that’s not right,’ Tom says. ‘We’re being kept in the dark. And that means that the information we’re using for the appeal is inaccurate. That’s not helping anybody. A week, and they’ve given us nothing. Nothing.’
I can hear the voice, tinny through the handset. ‘It isn’t very long in the scheme of things. A missing-person inquiry can take many months.’
‘Well, we’re not going to sit around on our arses any longer.’
I flinch at Tom’s rudeness – he sees, and juts out his chin, his eyes hard.
Nick arrives back from taking the kids to school and walking Benji. He stands in the doorway.
‘How many people are on the team looking for her? Exactly what are they doing?’ Tom says.
‘I don’t have all those details,’ Jeremy Chadwick says, ‘but I can assure you that they are taking this situation very seriously. Our relationship with the authorities-’
‘I don’t want assurances,’ Tom says, ‘I want action. I want results.’
I’m shaking my head at Tom, signalling with my hands for him to turn it down. Nick watches. I can’t read the look on his face – scepticism, disdain?
‘As do we all,’ says Jeremy Chadwick.
‘I want to come out there,’ Tom says, ‘come and help search.’
Nick looks at me, questioning.
The prospect of travelling to Chengdu has arisen but in a vague way, mentioned as something that might eventually happen, if necessary. But it’s not something that’s ever been thought through. Now, though, I share Tom’s sense of urgency. Inside my fears thrash and churn. Staying put, carrying on as we have been with calls and interviews for the papers, with emails and Twitter, knowing we’re five thousand miles away, is no longer bearable. As soon as Tom says it, I know that he’s right: we have to act.
I glance away from Nick.
‘That’s an option,’ says Jeremy Chadwick.
‘Right. Well, that’s what we’ll do. Can you let Peter Dunne know, in Chongqing?’
‘Certainly. The consulate will need to issue you with letters of invitation for the visa. They can be sent by email.’
When Tom’s hung up, he says to me, ‘I’ve got an auction at midday. Can you call Edward and ask for his help arranging flights and hotels?’
