Page 15 of Just Another Missing Person

“I didn’t expect to get PACE quoted to me at home as well as at work,” Julia says, surprised by how seamlessly she slips away from her own problems and into justMum. It’s always been the way. Like pregnancy birthed an entirely different part of her brain.

A voice comes from upstairs: “There were morsels left.”

“It was the disappointment,” Genevieve calls back. “I thought there was some left. And there was not. It is the emotional pain you owe me the apology for.”

“I think you’ll recover,” Art shouts.

Genevieve pours boiling water into two mugs and adds hot chocolate. She leans back against the counter. The kitchen window is open. Julia can hear the sea.

“It’s late for a school night,” Julia says. It’s well after midnight.

Genevieve flicks her eyes to her mother, something she rarely does these days. Bravado, moaning, sure, but hardly ever anything that sits underneath that: vulnerability.

“I’m supposed to be revising cell mitosis but I’m googling oldHollyoakscharacters,” she says, like it’s Julia’s fault.

“Oh, I understand that,” Julia says, still staring at her. And she does. Julia is either hyperfocused, or not interested at all. She doesn’t know how people bring themselves to do jobs they’re not personally invested in. Filing, answering phones... she would last half an hour. But, then, are vocations to be so lauded?

“It’s so boring. Why would I need to know about mitosis? Doyouever use that?” She handles the mugs with a little too much force.

“Not often,” Julia says with a smile. She wants to ask her daughter if she ever told anybody about Zac, and then tomorrow she will try and trace who Zac’s other associates were, to see if he had told anybody else. But she is actually thinking about Matthew James. When the DNA on the cigarette and the glass come back as male DNA, she still has to match it to him. She can’t check because it would leave a trail, but if his DNA isn’t on the system, it won’t flag him up. So how is she going to get a match?

“It’s so mad. If I was designing the curriculum, I’d teach... something useful? Like—how to get a mortgage. Or how to drive, even,” Genevieve prattles.

Julia bites her tongue. The truth is, she entirely agrees, butdoesn’t want to rile her up. A couple of words of encouragement from her, and she’d go on strike. She probablywoulddesign a curriculum.

She lowers her voice so Art can’t hear. “I wanted to ask you something.” Step one.

Immediately, Genevieve seems to know it’s about Zac. Her expression drops. “What?” she says warily.

“Last year. And the—the incident.” This is how they refer to it. Carefully tiptoeing around it, like a frozen lake that might crack further at any moment. Words judiciously chosen. Never wounding. Never a killing. Never a cover-up.

Genevieve’s hand reaches for the kitchen counter, perhaps steadying herself. She keeps her pale eyes on her. The bravado, the wisecracking, all gone. “Yeah...”

“Is it possible—well...”

“What?” she says. Her lips look blanched. Her forehead takes on a sheen underneath the makeup. If she were a suspect, Julia would bet money on her guilt.

“Does anyone know about it?”

“Huh?”

“Like—did you ever tell anyone?” She holds her palms up. “I’m not accusing you. But, if you did, I need to know.” She’s got to trace the web of it. Three spindles stretch out from Julia, Genevieve and Zac, and one of them will lead to the man in the back of her car.

“God,no.” There it is. The defense mechanism. The pallor becomes a flush. Julia watches it closely. “Why would I?” she adds. Logical to a fault, like her mother.

“I don’t mind, you know. I just want to know. You’re not in trouble.”

She skews her mouth to the side. Julia doesn’t think she’slying. She’s bewildered. Isn’t providing the superfluous detail liars do.

“I didn’t tell a soul.” Eyes to her. “As requested.”

“Okay. Okay.”

Genevieve turns away from Julia. She doesn’t ask why.

“Just thinking about it recently,” Julia explains needlessly.

“Me too, now,” Genevieve says.

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