After Anna. Alex Lake

early days of her and Brian’s relationship. Edna, however, was stern and upright and cold. They did not fit together. No wonder he left.

      Warm as he was, he was nonetheless a distant father. He was dedicated to his grammar school and he gave himself to his work, at which he was very good. He was loved by the pupils, alumni and, for the most part, the staff; known for his careful and even-handed treatment of all those under his professional responsibility, and for his brisk dedication to their welfare. Jim Crowne never turned away from a prospective and deserving pupil in need – whatever their situation – and would use all the resources at his disposal to help them: arguing with the education authorities for more funding if he felt that more pupils deserved a place at the school, or leaning on alumni for donations to ensure that no child missed out on the school trips to Marrakech and Kiev and Hanoi that he made a central part of the school’s wider curriculum. As he was fond of saying, he was in the business of education, which meant he prepared kids for the world and not to pass exams. Jim Crowne was not fond of buzzwords, but he ensured that his school lived out the full meaning of the modern passion for ‘equality of opportunity’. And all he asked in return was that the pupils grasped those opportunities. He had no time for those that didn’t.

      It was a shame that, like so many people who devote themselves to public service, he did not find time to devote the same attention to his own offspring, and Brian had often claimed that he only ever knew his father the head teacher, and not his father the man.

      Anyway, all that belonged to the past. She had plenty to deal with in the here and now.

      She opened her car door. Her feet were cold and she was hungry. She had a craving for a cup of sweet tea.

      Edna was in the kitchen with Brian. She looked up as Julia entered. ‘Here you are,’ she said. ‘We were starting to worry. Thank God.’

      ‘Here I am,’ Julia said.

      ‘I’m not going to beat around the bush,’ Edna said. She was proud of the lack of beating around the bush in her life, was Edna. ‘I know things haven’t always been perfect between us, but now is the time for us to pull together as a family. We can resolve any differences when Anna is back among us.’

      She stood up and took Julia’s hands between hers. Her fingers were cold and white, bloodless. ‘Julia,’ she said. ‘We can get through this.’ She placed a palm on Julia’s cheek, then pulled her into a loose, but still awkward, embrace. Julia was glad when it was over. ‘We can.’

      Whatever she’d expected from Edna, it wasn’t this. Her mother-in-law had not hugged her – if hug was the word – since the wedding day, and that hug was for the guests as much as it was for Julia, if it was for Julia at all. Still, Julia was glad. The last thing she needed right now was Edna telling her she was a foul and irresponsible parent.

      ‘Thanks, Edna’ she said. ‘I appreciate it.’

      ‘The police called,’ Brian said. ‘There’s a press conference at noon.’

      ‘So soon?’ Julia said. ‘She’s only been gone one night.’

      The news is out there, The cops said it might help get more people looking. Someone might have seen something.’

      ‘And we have to be there?’ Julia asked.

      Brian nodded, his face drawn, his eyes on her, his expression unguarded. For a moment she was looking at the man she had fallen in love with, the father of her child, and she leaned forward and put her hand on his.

      He pulled it away.

      ‘Yes,’ he said. ‘They reckon that an appeal from the parents is best. It gets people’s attention.’

      Gets people’s attention.

      This was her life now. She was a parent whose kid was missing. Who made tearful appeals on the television. It was impossible; she couldn’t believe it was happening. She couldn’t believe that she was going to have to shower and dress and deal with a roomful of cameras and reporters. She didn’t want to; it made it all seem so real, so incontrovertible. Some part of her still hoped it was all a mistake; that she would open Anna’s bedroom door and find her daughter fast asleep in her bed, and this would all be over. That was what she wanted. Not press conferences.

      She closed her eyes. She felt dizzy and sick and she pushed her tea away.

      She had to do it. If it brought Anna’s return any closer, she had to do it, but she could not do it alone. She picked up her mobile phone and called the only friend who could get her through this.

       vi.

      DI Wynne sat on the edge of the armchair. Julia was on the sofa.

      ‘I apologize for this,’ she said. ‘But it is a necessity. In any case like this we have to speak to the parents. I’m not suggesting that you are responsible, Mrs Crowne, but we have to examine every angle.’

      Julia looked at her and almost laughed. ‘Am I a suspect?’

      ‘No. But we need to interview you. Mr Crowne, too. And your mother-in-law. Anybody who is connected to Anna.’

      ‘Fine,’ Julia said. ‘Go ahead.’

      DI Wynne nodded. ‘Take me through the events of the day,’ she said. ‘In as much detail as you can.’

      Julia paused, then began to recount what had happened: the meeting that overran, the dead phone, the dash to the school. Wynne listened intently, occasionally making notes.

      ‘Would you say that your marriage to Mr Crowne is healthy?’ she asked.

      Julia shook her head. ‘No. We’re having some problems.’

      ‘What kind of problems?’

      ‘It’s more or less over,’ Julia said. ‘We’ve kind of grown apart.’

      Wynne pursed her lips. ‘Is it an equal decision?’ she asked.

      ‘No,’ Julia said. ‘It’s more my decision.’

      ‘I see.’ Wynne paused. ‘Is Mr Crowne taking it well, would you say?’

      Julia sat back. She frowned. ‘Are you suggesting Brian was behind this? He was at school.’

      ‘No,’ Wynne said. ‘I’m not suggesting that. Just asking questions.’ She closed her notebook. ‘That’s all. Thank you, Mrs Crowne.’

      As Julia left the living room she passed Brian heading towards DI Wynne.

      ‘Your turn,’ she said.

       vii.

      Thirty minutes later Gill – a red-haired Scouser with a perpetual smile and a nervous energy that was infectious – was sitting beside her on the sofa.

      ‘It’ll be ok,’ she said. ‘You’ll be ok.’

      ‘It just makes it so real,’ Julia said. ‘All of a sudden we’re those parents, the ones on the TV doing the press conference. I don’t know how I can pull it together. I can’t even think, Gill. I’m either numb or thinking of Anna, of where she could be, who might have her—’

      Her voice trailed off. There were brief moments when she managed to distract herself enough to achieve a kind of blankness, but they didn’t last. Before long the panic returned. She felt as if she was standing on a stormy beach trying to beat back the waves: it was impossible, they just kept coming, wave after wave, pounding her into submission. It was all she could do to keep on breathing.

      ‘You can do it,’ Gill said. ‘And you have to. I’ll be there. I’ll get you through it.’

      If anyone could, it was Gill. She was one of those people who believe that they can do anything, and because they believe it they make it true. Julia first met her at a postnatal Yoga class; for Julia, it was a foray into exercise aimed solely at removing the baby weight. For Gill it was a gentle re-introduction to exercise aimed