Not My Daughter. Suzy K Quinn

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СКАЧАТЬ we’re not married yet. ‘Lorna Armstrong. We live at Iron Bridge Farm, Taunton Wood.’

      The policewoman is soothing. ‘First things first. Are there any friends your daughter could have gone to?’

      ‘I don’t know. I don’t know who her friends are. If I did, I’d have Facebook stalked them by now and harassed their phone lines.’

      The policewoman hesitates for a moment, and I think she’s going to make a comment like most people do. Something about me being overprotective. But instead she says, ‘It’s good that you care.’

      Some people understand. The ones who’ve seen the bad side of the world.

      I give more details, and then the policewoman tells me she’ll get someone over ASAP.

      ‘In the meantime, call people you know,’ says the policewoman. ‘Try not to worry too much. This happens more than you might imagine and they always turn up unharmed. How old is your daughter?’

      ‘Sixteen.’

      Another pause.

      ‘And you think she left home of her own free will?’

      ‘Someone could have put her up to it. Tricked her or … something.’

      ‘But no signs of force? I don’t want to scare you; I just want to get things clear. No signs of a … a scuffle or anything like that?’

      ‘No. She made her bed.’ I’m crying again now.

      ‘We’ll get a police officer over to you now.’

      ‘There’s something else.’ I leave the sentence hanging, not sure if I’ll manage to finish it.

      The policewoman is kind, offering a gentle, ‘Yes?’

      I grip the phone. ‘I think she might have gone to see her father.’

      ‘Oh. Right. Well, that could be a simple answer, couldn’t it? Do you … What’s the situation there then?’

      ‘She’s never met him before.’

      ‘You have sole custody?’

      I hesitate. ‘Yes. He’s … not a good guy.’ I pause, considering my next words carefully. ‘He’s famous. It’s hard to explain.’

      ‘What’s her father’s name and address?’ the policewoman asks.

      ‘Her father’s name?’ My throat goes tight again. I know what comes next. I know what happens when I say his name. It’s like a witch’s curse.

      I look up then, seeing my scared face in the sliding-door glass. White skin. Black hair. Blue eyes cornflower coloured again, bright with fear.

      ‘Michael Reyji Ray.’

      There’s a long pause.

      ‘Michael Reyji Ray?’

      ‘Yes.’

      ‘Michael Reyji Ray is your daughter’s father?’

      And suddenly the policewoman’s tone totally changes – a subtle thing, but I feel it. She’s gone from being on my side to thinking I’m crazy.

      This is Michael’s power. A man she’s never met is controlling her.

      ‘Yes.’

      ‘But your daughter’s never met him before?’

      ‘No. She’s never met him. I don’t want her meeting him. He’ll use her to get at me.’

      Another pause.

      ‘I thought … Michael Reyji Ray is married, isn’t he? Has been for years.’

      ‘Yes. Married men can still have children with other women.’

      ‘Have you … do you stop your daughter seeing her father, then?’

      ‘Of course I do.’

      ‘So she’d have a good reason for wanting to meet him?’

      ‘He isn’t the person you think he is,’ I say. ‘This kind, environmental, happily married man. It’s all just an image.’

      ‘Sometimes when people hurt us—’

      ‘He’s a bad person.’ I shriek the words.

      The police officer’s voice becomes more serious. ‘Listen. I understand why you’re feeling threatened, but let’s not start throwing accusations around. You’re worried. Your daughter is very young to just be packing a bag and leaving without telling you. But she is legally allowed to do so.’

      ‘Please. You have to get her back.’

      ‘Look, we can’t go knocking on Michael Reyji Ray’s door, accusing him of taking your daughter away. If she’s sixteen and he … well if he is her biological father, she has a right to see him. She has a right to leave home if she wants to. Have you tried calling her?’

      I put a hand to my throbbing forehead. ‘I took her phone away last night.’

      ‘Oh. Right. Why did you do that then?’

      I pause. ‘Because … because she was looking up things about Michael.’

      ‘Listen, we’ll send someone over,’ says the policewoman. ‘But I think you’re playing a risky game. If you’ve stopped your daughter see her father, well, this is the age they rebel, isn’t it? And there’s no law against that. You can’t control them when they get to this age, Ms Armstrong. At some point, you have to let them fly.’

      ‘No.’ The word is firmer than I meant it to be. ‘She can’t fly. It’s not safe out there.’

      There’s a long pause.

      ‘We’ll get someone over to you. In the meantime, try to stay calm. I’ve been in this job a long time. This sounds like something that will blow over. Not as bad as you think.’

      ‘It’s absolutely as bad as I think,’ I say. ‘Every bit as bad.’

Once upon a time …

      The day after I slept with Michael Reyji Ray, he was all I could think about. If I’d been obsessed before, that was nothing to how I felt now. It was like being a drug addict, wanting another hit.

      Michael Reyji Ray was in my head, like a catchy song.

      Danny, Michael’s driver, dropped me off outside my shabby brown walk-up apartment, and I climbed three flights of stairs, dropped into bed and stayed there all day.

      When the light started to change, Dee came into my room with a bowl of curly noodles. She was soft and round СКАЧАТЬ