The Lost by Claire McGowan Page B

Ward, we understand it’s a very upsetting time, but we are doing all we can.’
    ‘You don’t give a shite about a traveller girl.’ He swayed slightly.
    ‘I assure you we are taking it very seriously—’
    ‘Racist, that’s what you are,’ a woman in white jeans was shouting. ‘None of you care unless we’re after robbing your roof tiles.’
    There was a chorus of assent, but Paula was looking at the man’s eyes. Glazed as they were with drink, he was in real pain. When shespoke, it was to him. ‘Mr Ward – I know you miss her. I know you’ve been looking yourself, yes? We’ll help. We’ll do what we can. There’s every chance she’s safe somewhere.’
    He swayed, the hand with the bottle of Buckfast dropping to his side. ‘My wee girl. You don’t give a shite.’
    People were patting Paddy Ward, leading him away and casting angry looks at Paula and Guy. She felt a small tug on her jacket and Theresa was there. ‘Sorry about me da. His head’s wrecked over Maj. Thinks yis won’t bother, now this posh girl’s gone and all.’
    ‘I promise we will.’ But even as she said it, Paula’s heart sank. Could she promise that?
    ‘Jesus,’ said Guy as they reached the safety of the car. ‘Didn’t see that coming.’
    Paula shut the door gratefully on the dry interior. ‘You know how for years we’d no ethnic minorities? ’Cos who’d want to come here, with all that violence? Well, the travellers were our only minority, the ones that got all our racism, and it turned out we had a lot stored up.’
    He looked at her keenly again. His eyes were grey, she noticed; unreadable. ‘Why did you ask about the Mission?’
    ‘Just something Cathy’s friend said. It must be some kind of church group, meets on Fridays. A youth ministry.’
    ‘Cathy went there too?’
    ‘Her friend said so. It was all she was allowed to do, pretty much.’
    He started the engine, looking out at the sleeting rain. ‘If that’s true, you know what it means?’
    She did, but she said, ‘What?’
    ‘It’s the first link we’ve found between the girls.’

Chapter Seven
    ‘Asyou can see, my analysis of Cathy suggests she has a very restrictive home life, with no room for transgression. At fifteen that often leads to rebellion – self-harm, drinking, early sex. This would support the hypothesis of voluntary absence, or running away. But if she didn’t take any clothes or money, that’s a negative indicator. I think there’s a good chance she will have had a boyfriend – perhaps an older man. She has a phone her parents don’t know about, so we can check the records for that.’
    It was the next day, and following another night of rubbish TV (PJ refused to get more than four channels), Paula had woken up early and with a sense of purpose. A few hours in the office had given her time to prepare full risk assessments on each of the girls, which she was now outlining in the meeting room.
    Avril Wright was looking disgusted again. Her blond bob was neatly combed, ankles crossed in unladdered tights. ‘Cathy seems a lovely girl. You can’t assume things about her.’
    ‘Well, you’re right that so far we’ve seen no evidence – except for the fact she’s gone. On the balance of probability, I also think we should be looking more closely at the family, specifically her father.’
    Bob Hamilton was apoplectic. ‘Eamonn Carr is a pillar of the community!’
    ‘Sure – and they never abuse kids, right?’ Everyone fell silent. She ploughed on. ‘Majella Ward has on the surface more vulnerability indicators than Cathy; she’s one of ten children, and no one reported her disappearance for several weeks. Her school is equally out of touch. I’d say it would have been very easy for Majella’s life to fall apart and no one to notice.’
    Guy was watchingher across the table, his expression impassive. ‘Have you found anything to suggest the disappearances are linked?’
    Paula scrunched up her face. ‘The most likely