Missing Page 7

  Suddenly the west door opened and Maxine caught her breath. A band of light streamed into the church and someone entered. She couldn’t see who it was because a stone pillar blocked her view. Clip, clip, clip. Footsteps heading down the side aisle. Any second now whoever those footsteps belonged to would come into her sight. Maxine tensed.

  It was an old lady, clipping towards the Lady altar. Maxine felt the relief flood over her. The newcomer caught sight of the young girl in school uniform kneeling in front of St Anthony and her old eyes smiled approvingly. Maxine watched her closely, half expecting her to throw off her disguise and become ... who? Master criminals were always doing things like that in books.

  The old woman reached in her pocket; coins jingled and then tinkled into the box before she reached for a candle. If she was one of those old ladies who took hours to say a rosary, Maxine’s visit would be a waste of time. No one was going to appear while she was there.

  But the woman knelt only for a few moments, then struggled to her feet again. She turned to Maxine with another smile and a nod, then began to clip-clip back up the aisle.

  Maxine glanced again at her watch. The ten minutes had passed surprisingly quickly. Just a couple of minutes more and then, no matter what, she was off. She was hanging around in this quiet, empty church not a moment longer.

  Yet something had changed. For a minute Maxine couldn’t think what it was. She looked all around but saw nothing, no movement. Then she held her breath and realised at once what it was.

  Someone was breathing, softly and steadily, close by.

  She was not alone in there any more.

  Where had he come from? Surely she would have heard someone enter, unless that someone really was a ghost! NO! She pushed that thought away. She would not be afraid. She was there to have this thing settled once and for all.

  ‘OK, where are you?’ she demanded, and her voice echoed up into the highest rafters.

  For a moment there was no answer, just that slow, steady breathing somewhere close.

  Then – ‘I’m here, Maxie.’ The voice was no more than a whisper. It seemed to come from St Anthony himself. She gasped and looked up at the flickering eyes.

  ‘I’m here, in the alcove.’ She peered, but it was dark behind the statue and all she could make out was a vague shape, a shadow undefined.

  She slipped her hand into her pocket. She was ready for anything. ‘Come out, let me see you. I’ve had enough of your silly games.’

  ‘This isn’t a silly game. I’m your brother. You must believe me.’

  Now that he had said it, she believed it even less. ‘No, you’re not! Derek’s dead. Dead and buried up in the graveyard.’

  ‘No. That’s a boy I changed clothes with one day. We laughed because he looked so much like me in my clothes.’ He seemed almost to be talking to himself. ‘So long ago ... I can hardly remember. How can I make you believe me?’

  ‘By coming out of the shadows, by coming home. By stepping out into the light. Let me touch you. Let me see you. You’re not Derek! You can’t be!’

  ‘You don’t know what it’s like to see your own name on a gravestone. To see the story of your death in a newspaper.’ The whisper suddenly became a heartbreaking plea. ‘I don’t want to be dead, Maxie,’ the voice whispered. ‘That’s why I came back. I had to let you know.’

  ‘What do you care what we think? You just went off and didn’t care how much it hurt Mum and Dad. You only care about yourself. Mum’s almost crazy with grief. And you say you’re here. Alive. And you still won’t come home. And you wonder why I don’t believe you!’ With that, she realised herself why she didn’t believe him. It struck her like a thunderbolt. ‘I know you’re not Derek. Because Derek could never be as cruel as that.’

  There was desperation in the voice when it spoke again. ‘I can’t come home. It would just all start again.’

  ‘I won’t believe anything till I see your face. Touch you. I won’t believe you’re my brother. You’re just someone wicked who wants to frighten me.’

  There was a long sigh. ‘You want to see me ... OK, you can see me ...’

  Right at that second the vestry door was being pulled open. Someone was coming, alerted by her shouting.

  Suddenly, St Anthony began to move. He began to topple towards her. She let out a scream. This was it! He was coming to get her. Well, she was ready for him. She reached back into her pocket and gripped the alarm and set it off. The alarm she had taken from her mother’s handbag in case of emergency. And this was definitely an emergency.

  A screeching whistle rent the air. Maxine stumbled back, her scream almost as loud as the alarm. St Anthony was hurtling towards her. The great statue that stood taller than herself was zooming closer. He was going to fall on her!

  And then she was being dragged from its path, just as the statue crashed to the tiled floor and the alabaster saint exploded into pieces and sent debris and dust everywhere.

  ‘Maxine! Are you all right? What happened?’

  It was Father Matthew.

  ‘I don’t know, Father.’

  He took the alarm from her and switched it off.

  ‘It just fell, Father. I never touched it. Honest.’

  ‘Of course you didn’t.’ He was studying the alarm, puzzled she should have such a thing. ‘Was anyone else here?’

  ‘Why? Did you see anybody else?’ She said it too quickly. He looked at her, suspicion in his eyes.

  ‘I heard you shouting. Who were you shouting at?’

  She had to think quickly, and she did. ‘Him!’ She pointed to what was left of St Anthony. ‘I’ve always prayed to him and he’s let me down. He probably jumped on me deliberately to get his own back.’

  Father Matthew managed a smile. ‘I don’t think St Anthony would ever do that. It was just an accident.’ He helped her into a pew. ‘You sit here. I’ll go and get my car keys. I’m taking you home.’

  ‘I’ll help clear this up,’ she offered, but Father Matthew was insistent.

  ‘I’ll be back in a minute,’ he said, hurrying back into the vestry.

  As she waited, Maxine realised she was shaking. She wanted to cry. The statue of St Anthony lay shattered at her feet. It might have killed her. Had he pushed it deliberately? And who was he? There was no one in the alcove now. Where had he gone? She hadn’t heard him leaving, nor seen him. Was it a ghost? Derek’s ghost? She was frightened and too confused to think anything through properly right now. She needed time to sort out her thoughts.

  All at once, the sun illuminated the church and in the sudden light something shining among the debris caught Maxine’s eye. She couldn’t quite make out what it was. She got up from her seat and bent to pick it up. It was a long gold chain with a St Christopher medal attached.

  She knew before she looked at the inscription exactly what it would say.

  DEREK MOODY

  c

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  Her mother’s first reaction when she came in the door with Father Matthew was, ‘What’s she done now?’

  Maxine had wanted to run to her. She wanted her mother to reassure her that the medal she had in her pocket couldn’t be Derek’s. That it couldn’t have been Derek in the church. That Derek was dead, gone for ever.

  Instead, there was her mother’s long-suffering frown to deal with and her annoyed question.

  ‘She’s done nothing, Mrs Moody,’ Father Matthew said quickly, adding, ‘in fact, she was being very good. Putting up a candle to St Anthony.’

  Oh boy, if only he knew!

  Her father came from the kitchen, glasses perched on his nose, a chicken under his arm. He looked so funny, Maxine wanted to laugh.

  ‘Something must have happened,’ he said. ‘Why have you brought Maxine home?’

  ‘She got a
bit of a scare. I’m afraid St Anthony wasn’t very grateful for that candle.’ He gave a little laugh. Priestly attempt at humour, Maxine thought. He should never try it. ‘He almost toppled on top of her.’

  Mum went chalk white and lowered herself gently into a chair. Maybe she does care. That thought made everything seem worthwhile. It only lasted for a second, however.

  ‘I wasn’t hurt, Mum, honestly.’

  Mum was shaking her head. ‘You were praying for Derek.’ She didn’t ask. She was telling her. ‘And the statue fell. Don’t you see, it must mean something.’

  ‘Yes. It means I was almost flattened.’ She knew she sounded cheeky. Didn’t care.

  Dad sat down too and began pointing the chicken at his wife. ‘It means nothing. And don’t try to make something of it.’

  Father Matthew agreed. ‘It was just an unfortunate accident. That was all.’

  Her father looked at her. ‘You didn’t touch the statue, did you? Push it or anything?’

  She felt he wanted her to say she had. That it was all her fault. Like everything else. Well, she wasn’t taking the blame for this. ‘No. I didn’t.’

  ‘I thought for a minute there was someone else there.’ Father Matthew’s eyes bored into her. ‘But Maxine says there wasn’t.’

  ‘There wasn’t! Why would I lie?’ Her dad’s eye- brows shot up. She wasn’t supposed to speak to a priest like that. He glanced at Father Matthew and the priest shrugged.

  ‘It was simply an accident, Mrs Moody. I’ve always said he wasn’t secured.’ Was that a wee lie, she wondered, to make everything better?

  Mum was looking at him, but she wasn’t seeing him. She was thinking of someone else entirely. There are no such things as accidents. Everything has a reason. A purpose. Mum was remembering that. Believing it.

  Father Matthew was offered tea, but declined. He had an early-evening mass at the local prison.

  ‘Perhaps Maxine could see me to my car?’ He wanted to talk to her. It didn’t matter that she didn’t want to talk to him.

  ‘I know it looks as if they’re blaming you,’ he said once they were outside.

  ‘They always do.’

  ‘They’re not. Not really. Not deep down. You’re only thirteen, Maxine, and you have to be so grown-up right now. Your mum and dad are hurting. Your dad is trying to understand your mother’s behaviour and to help her. If they’re neglecting you, it’s only for this short while. This will pass, and you’ll be a happy family again.’

  How she wished she could believe that! A happy family again – it seemed an impossible dream at the moment.

  ‘I just want you to tell me one thing, Maxine.’ He hesitated, searching for the right words. ‘I don’t mind if you lied to me before, and I think you did.’ Maxine couldn’t stop her blush. ‘But I’d like the truth now. Someone else was in the church.’ He stared at her, with blue eyes that seemed to reach right down to her soul. ‘Who was it, Maxine?’

  She swallowed and tried to look away from that hypnotic gaze. ‘You won’t get anyone into trouble. It was an accident. I just want to know who was with you. Was it someone you were afraid of?’

  ‘What makes you think that, Father?’

  ‘You did have an alarm in your pocket. What made you set it off?’

  She stumbled over her words. ‘The s-statue falling. I got a fright.’

  He waited a moment. Maxine said nothing. ‘I don’t understand why you can’t tell me.’

  How much would he understand? Could she tell him? He was a priest after all. She fingered the chain in her pocket nervously. Father Matthew waited for her answer.

  What was the point of telling him? She wouldn’t even know where to begin. It was all too complicated. So she said nothing. Finally she lowered her gaze away from his.

  He didn’t seem hurt or angry. Just puzzled. He got into his car and rolled down the window. ‘When you’re ready to talk, Maxine, I’m here. Trust me.’ Then he drove off.

  Nothing much was said about the incident over dinner. It had been too late to cook the chicken, so they had something instead from the freezer. Mum was in a world of her own, and before dessert rose silently and went into the living room. Dad’s eyes followed her.

  ‘And this has only made things worse,’ he said.

  Maxine slammed down her fork. She had been waiting for a comment like that. ‘I didn’t do it on purpose.’

  ‘I know. I know.’ Dad reached across the table and clutched her hand. ‘I’m sorry, Maxine.’ He sat silent for a moment. ‘I just can’t reach your mother any more. She needs professional help.’

  Maxine began to be afraid. ‘What do you mean, Dad? Do you think she’s ... crazy?’

  ‘Of course not,’ he said at once. ‘Mum’s been through a lot. She has to let go of the past. I can’t seem to help her do that. A professional might.’

  At least she wasn’t getting phone calls, nor was she hearing voices in churches. At that second Maxine would have given anything to confide in her dad, but that would only make things a hundred times worse.

  But there was one thing she could ask and not give rise to any suspicion.

  ‘Did you get any of Derek’s belongings back?’

  He seemed puzzled by the question. ‘Not his clothes, if that’s what you mean.’

  ‘No. I meant his St Christopher medal. The one I gave him for his birthday.’ She waved towards the photograph on the hall table. ‘I‘ve been meaning to ask you if you got it back.’

  ‘No. He was living rough, remember. The police said his gold chain would have been the first thing he would have sold to buy food.’

  ‘You think he sold it to someone?’

  ‘Or someone stole it. That’s probably more likely.’ He squeezed her hand. ‘I’m so sorry. It would have been a nice keepsake for you. But I’m afraid we’ve seen the last of Derek’s St Christopher medal.’

  c

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  Cam phoned at seven o’clock. She’d almost forgotten him. So much had happened to her that day. It was impossible to talk to him on the phone so they arranged to meet at Simmy’s arcade.

  ‘I’m just going out, Dad,’ she called into the kitchen. Her reason was all ready, hanging on her lips. Four of the girls in her class getting together for a class project. ‘Whose house?’ he would ask, and she would answer, ‘We’ll meet, then decide. I’ll call, don’t worry.’

  It all sounded plausible and reasonable and meant they couldn’t phone to check up on her. ‘Did you hear me, Dad? I’m going out.’

  Dad appeared at the kitchen door. ‘Fine,’ was all he said. ‘Don’t be late.’

  So much for her excuse. She might have known. It didn’t matter where she was going. They didn’t care any more.

  Cam was challenging the Mighty Zola once again when she went into the arcade. And winning. His name appeared at the very top of the list of Mighty Champions. By now, Mighty Maxie had been totally obliterated.

  What was she confiding in this smart alec for? And of course, that was precisely the answer. Because he was this smart alec.

  ‘OK, what happened that was so mysterious you couldn’t tell me on the phone?’

  She pulled him away from the Mighty Zola and in a quiet corner told him everything that had happened. His expression didn’t change. Even when she described in graphic detail (adding some bits to make it more exciting) how the statue had almost crushed her. Did nothing surprise him? Shock him? Frighten him?

  Finally, she drew the medal from her pocket and showed it to him.

  He took it from her, wound the chain through his fingers and held the medal in the palm of his hand. ‘This is definitely Derek’s?’

  ‘I should know. I bought it for him.’

  He studied it for so long that Maxine grew impatient. ‘A
nd don’t say ghosts don’t leave presents. I know that. This was no ghost.’

  Still he said nothing.

  ‘Well, don’t you see what this means? Derek must be alive.’ She went on when he still didn’t answer her. ‘I don’t know how, but he must be alive.’

  ‘You didn’t actually see him.’

  ‘I saw someone.’

  ‘But you couldn’t swear it was Derek.’

  ‘It was Derek, it had to be. The medal!’

  ‘Why couldn’t he just step out into the light and let you see him? That would have convinced you. The church was empty. There was no danger there.’

  And suddenly it occurred to her that perhaps the church hadn’t been empty. Had Father Matthew been somewhere in the shadows, listening to their murmured voices? Standing stealthily behind the vestry door? She said all of this to Cam.

  His explanation was more simple. ‘Father Matthew probably thinks you’re potty, standing in front of a statue talking to yourself.’

  She stomped away from him in a huff. He hurried after her. ‘I’m trying to be logical.’

  ‘Oh, Mr Spock returns! You were the one who suggested Derek might still be alive in the first place. There are three possibilities, you said.’ She mimicked him in a singsong voice. ‘One. Someone is playing a trick on me. Two. Derek is a ghost ... oh, but I forgot, ghosts don’t make telephone calls. Scrub that one. And there is a third. Derek is alive and well and living behind St Anthony’s statue! Well, he is. The medal proves it. Smart alec!’

  She sounded childish. She knew it and blushed to her roots.

  Cam didn’t seem to notice. ‘Now I think there could be another possibility.’

  For the life of her Maxine couldn’t think what that might be. ‘And what is that?’ she asked.

  ‘Derek was gone for a long time. You don’t know the kind of people he might have met. Not very nice people. Perhaps he told someone all about his family, and that person stole his medal, and now that Derek’s dead he’s come to make you think he’s Derek. And someone like that would be dangerous.’ He hesitated. ‘The question is, Maxine, did the statue fall ... or was it pushed?’