The Daughter Read Free

breath; the words were difficult to push out. “I thought you were her coming in.”
    â€œWhat?” He looked exhausted. His shoulders were hunched; there were deep circles under his eyes.
    â€œNaomi hasn’t come home yet.” I went close to him. A faint smell of burning clung about him; it must have been from the diathermy, spluttering heat, sealing cut blood vessels. He must have come straight from the operating room.
    His eyes, the same sea-­blue as Naomi’s, looked puzzled. “Her play ended at nine-­thirty, didn’t it?” An expression of panic crossed his face. “Jesus, it’s Thursday.”
    He’d forgotten that she had canceled Thursday pickups, but he never knew what was happening in the children’s lives anyway. He never asked. I felt the slow swell of anger.
    â€œShe walks back with friends now. She told you.”
    â€œOf course she did. I’d forgotten. Oh well.” He looked relieved.
    â€œBut tonight was different.” How could he be so relaxed when my heart was pounding with anxiety? “She went out for a meal with the cast.”
    â€œI can’t keep up.” He shrugged. “So, she’s out with her mates. Perhaps they’re having such a good time they stayed on.”
    â€œTed, it’s after two . . .” My face flushed hot with panic and fury. Surely he realized this was different, that it felt wrong.
    â€œThat late? Gosh, I’m sorry. The operation went on and on and on. I hoped you’d be asleep by now.” He spread his hands in apology.
    â€œWhere the hell is she?” I stared at him, my voice rising. “She never does this, she lets me know even if she’s five minutes late.” As I said it, it occurred to me that she hadn’t for a long time now, but then she had never been as late as this. “There’s a rapist in Bristol, it said on the news—­”
    â€œCalm down, Jen. Who is she with, exactly?” He looked down at me and I could sense reluctance. He didn’t want this to be happening; he wanted to go to bed.
    â€œHer friends from the play. Nikita and everyone. It was just a meal, not a party.”
    â€œPerhaps they went to a club after.”
    â€œShe’d never get in.” Her cheeks were still rounded; she had a fifteen-­year-­old face, younger sometimes, especially when she was tired. “She’s not old enough.”
    â€œIt’s what they all do.” Ted’s voice was slow with tiredness. He leaned his tall frame against the wall. “They have false IDs. Remember when Theo—­”
    â€œNot Naomi.” Then I remembered the shoes, the smile. Was it possible? A club?
    â€œLet’s give it a bit longer.” Ted’s voice was calm. “I mean, it’s kind of normal, still early if you’re having fun. Let’s wait until two-­thirty.”
    â€œThen what?”
    â€œShe’ll probably be back.” He pushed himself away from the wall, and rubbing his face with his hands, he began to walk toward the steps at the end of the hall that led down to the kitchen. “If not, we’ll phone Shan. You’ve phoned Naomi obviously?”
    I hadn’t. God knows why. I hadn’t even checked for a text. I felt for my cell phone but it wasn’t in my pocket. “Where the bloody hell’s my bloody phone?”
    I pushed past Ted and ran downstairs. It must have fallen out and was half hidden under a squashed cushion on the sofa. I snatched it up. No text. I punched her number.
    â€œHiya, this is Naomi. Sorry, I’m busy doing something incredibly important right now. But—­um—­leave me a number and I’ll get back to you. That’s a promise. Byee.”
    I shook my head, unable to speak.
    â€œI need a drink.” Ted went slowly to the drinks cupboard. He poured two whiskeys and held one out to me. I felt the alcohol burn my throat, then travel