,
last communication. They toll in my head, formal and final.
‘None of you have heard from her since?’ I check.
A general shaking of heads.
My throat’s dry and I take a drink. Condensation drips onto my knee. The beer is already warmer. The sky is growing duller, a tangerine sheen to the light.
‘It’s, like, where can she be?’ Dawn says suddenly, tears standing in her eyes. Bradley squeezes her shoulder. Rosemary clasps her hands together and Oliver looks away, his discomfort almost palpable.
Tom clears his throat.
I find the rota and pull it out, put it on the table. ‘If anyone can help us leaflet at any time, please put your name down. I know you’ve all got jobs but even an hour or so – we’d really appreciate it. We hope to arrange a press conference soon. Spreading the word is the most important thing. And we want to make sure we’ve got everyone’s numbers so we can keep in touch. Our numbers are here.’ I point to where I’ve copied them onto the paper. My hand is shaking.
‘Sure thing,’ Bradley says. He does a late shift, he explains, starts at 2 p.m. so at the end of his day he’s able to liaise with the company’s American wing, who are just arriving at work. And he has other appointments this coming week, but he can come around with us tomorrow night and Thursday morning.
The others consult their schedules on their phones. Dawn’s time is most restricted – she’s doing extra hours – and she begins to fret, apologizing. I do my best to reassure her: ‘You’ve already been a great help.’
Oliver can join us on Monday morning. And Rosemary all day Wednesday and Thursday.
‘We’d like to talk to you all individually,’ Tom says, ‘to try to find out as much as we can about what was happening around the time Lori went missing.’
Oliver asks if we can see him first – he has an English lesson to get to. Unlike Rosemary’s English, his is hard to follow, heavily accented.
Shona arrives. She’s painfully thin, very tall with light blonde hair cut short. She wears a vest top under denim dungaree-shorts. The bones of her clavicle jut out amid strings of beads, all in different materials, sizes and colours. Despite the fair hair, her skin is tanned and she has surprising grass-green eyes. She stoops slightly as she greets us. Her wrists are ringed with bracelets, which clink when she shakes hands.
Dawn goes to buy her a drink and Shona sits down, folding herself into a chair and propping her feet on the crossbar of the table so her knees almost touch her chin.
