fine.’ She said it confidently, but in truth she’d never been into the traveller camp before. For years it had sat on the outskirts of Ballyterrin, down by the silty mudflats of the dock area – a place of fear, of lore. She belted up her trench-coat against the thin rain falling.
Guy parked his BMW near the entrance to the camp, on a barren stretch of wasteland outside town. ‘Sometimes they throw bricks,’ he shrugged. ‘OK to walk?’
Paula was always OK to walk, because she didn’t wear heels. Female officers didn’t, and she’d learned that everyone took you more seriously if you could race after them when needed.
The camp consisted of about sixty caravans – some huge and plush, some ramshackle – the ‘travelling’ community who now sat, unmoving, dipping in and out of the town as they pleased, drawing prejudice like a lightning-rod and providing employment for the place’s social workers, doctors, and dole officers.
Guy walked with long strides, and even in her flat boots she struggled to keep up. Rain was collecting in dank puddles on the muddy ground; there was a smell of sewage and neglect. He said, ‘I’m sure you’ll be aware of the sensitivities here. The PSNI have been carrying out interviews since we realised Majella was gone, but there’s a huge backlog to get through, and we’re behind on time.’
‘They didn’t reporther for two weeks, I see.’
‘The parents didn’t, and the school didn’t want to interfere, they said.’ She could hear the anger in Guy’s voice and liked him more for it. No one had worried about interfering when middle-class Cathy Carr went missing. ‘It was Majella’s sister called it in, in fact – when the news broke about Cathy. She’s only twelve. The school thought Majella might have gone to get married, but Theresa said no way. Said there’d have been a huge ceremony. They’ve got money, the family, though you’d not think it.’
‘Yeah, that sounds right. So you think she’s really missing?’
‘Seems like it.’ He ushered her up to the first caravan, large and white, surrounded by a neat fence, and she noticed he was shielding her with his body, as crowds of men in tracksuits began to gather several yards away. The gesture seemed instinctive, and she had time to wonder dimly if Guy had been in the Army. A vicious black dog was tied up outside the caravan, snapping at her heels. Paula made herself stand up tall, show no fear.
‘Here we are. The Wards. Actually, they’re all called Ward.’ Guy sounded embarrassed. ‘Majella’s family are the Paddy Wards – he’s one of the community leaders. They won’t tell us much, I’m afraid.’
Paula nodded; they wouldn’t have much use for the police round here. Then the door of the white caravan flew open and a wrinkled woman shouted out, ‘Yis are too fecking late, she’s gone now.’
‘Mrs Ward?’ Paula took in the woman’s missing teeth and gilt earrings, skin avalanching out of a vest top and pedal-pushers.
‘No fecking point coming round here now – me daughter’s gone.’ Letting the door swing shut, Majella’s mother ducked back inside. Paula had a fleeting glimpse of a clean-scrubbed floor where a baby sat nappyless, pushing a broken Barbie round in circles. She held the door open.
‘Mrs Ward? I’mnew, how are you? Paula’s my name. I just wanted to ask a few questions about Majella.’
‘She won’t talk to yis.’ Paula and Guy turned to see a skinny girl in a navy school uniform, high ponytail, hoop earrings. ‘You’ll have to talk to me. Theresa.’ She pronounced it Treeza . Theresa led them around the side of the caravan, where plastic patio furniture stood collecting rain. ‘Yis are back for more, then.’
‘This is Ms Maguire – Paula. She’s going to help us find your sister.’
‘Not doing a good job so far, are yis.’
Feeling thoroughly steeped in teenage girls, Paula let herself be sized up by the twelve year old. ‘Where did you last
Guy parked his BMW near the entrance to the camp, on a barren stretch of wasteland outside town. ‘Sometimes they throw bricks,’ he shrugged. ‘OK to walk?’
Paula was always OK to walk, because she didn’t wear heels. Female officers didn’t, and she’d learned that everyone took you more seriously if you could race after them when needed.
The camp consisted of about sixty caravans – some huge and plush, some ramshackle – the ‘travelling’ community who now sat, unmoving, dipping in and out of the town as they pleased, drawing prejudice like a lightning-rod and providing employment for the place’s social workers, doctors, and dole officers.
Guy walked with long strides, and even in her flat boots she struggled to keep up. Rain was collecting in dank puddles on the muddy ground; there was a smell of sewage and neglect. He said, ‘I’m sure you’ll be aware of the sensitivities here. The PSNI have been carrying out interviews since we realised Majella was gone, but there’s a huge backlog to get through, and we’re behind on time.’
‘They didn’t reporther for two weeks, I see.’
‘The parents didn’t, and the school didn’t want to interfere, they said.’ She could hear the anger in Guy’s voice and liked him more for it. No one had worried about interfering when middle-class Cathy Carr went missing. ‘It was Majella’s sister called it in, in fact – when the news broke about Cathy. She’s only twelve. The school thought Majella might have gone to get married, but Theresa said no way. Said there’d have been a huge ceremony. They’ve got money, the family, though you’d not think it.’
‘Yeah, that sounds right. So you think she’s really missing?’
‘Seems like it.’ He ushered her up to the first caravan, large and white, surrounded by a neat fence, and she noticed he was shielding her with his body, as crowds of men in tracksuits began to gather several yards away. The gesture seemed instinctive, and she had time to wonder dimly if Guy had been in the Army. A vicious black dog was tied up outside the caravan, snapping at her heels. Paula made herself stand up tall, show no fear.
‘Here we are. The Wards. Actually, they’re all called Ward.’ Guy sounded embarrassed. ‘Majella’s family are the Paddy Wards – he’s one of the community leaders. They won’t tell us much, I’m afraid.’
Paula nodded; they wouldn’t have much use for the police round here. Then the door of the white caravan flew open and a wrinkled woman shouted out, ‘Yis are too fecking late, she’s gone now.’
‘Mrs Ward?’ Paula took in the woman’s missing teeth and gilt earrings, skin avalanching out of a vest top and pedal-pushers.
‘No fecking point coming round here now – me daughter’s gone.’ Letting the door swing shut, Majella’s mother ducked back inside. Paula had a fleeting glimpse of a clean-scrubbed floor where a baby sat nappyless, pushing a broken Barbie round in circles. She held the door open.
‘Mrs Ward? I’mnew, how are you? Paula’s my name. I just wanted to ask a few questions about Majella.’
‘She won’t talk to yis.’ Paula and Guy turned to see a skinny girl in a navy school uniform, high ponytail, hoop earrings. ‘You’ll have to talk to me. Theresa.’ She pronounced it Treeza . Theresa led them around the side of the caravan, where plastic patio furniture stood collecting rain. ‘Yis are back for more, then.’
‘This is Ms Maguire – Paula. She’s going to help us find your sister.’
‘Not doing a good job so far, are yis.’
Feeling thoroughly steeped in teenage girls, Paula let herself be sized up by the twelve year old. ‘Where did you last
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