Free Local Girl Missing by Claire Douglas

and as far as we’re aware my dad never tried to find us.
    I could sense Leon’s eyes probing me, waiting for an answer. ‘My parents split up when I was really young, I haven’t seen him since,’ I said. He must have sensed I didn’t want to talk about it because he squeezed my hand gently, as though he understood and no other words were needed. We walked onto the old pier after that, and kissed as the sun made its descent into the sea. I haven’t felt as close to a guy in years. It felt so right.
    And now it feels so wrong after what Frankie told me today.
    After work I went to see her. I know it’s ridiculous, but I was nervous about telling her about me and Leon. We arranged to meet at her hotel after my shift at the kiosk. It was another hot day; the pensioners and tourists were out in force, so I was running late. By the time I ambled over to the hotel it was getting on for 4 p.m.
    The Grand View Hotel would have been elegant once, but someone, probably around the 1950s, had the bright idea of painting it the sickly pink of a Wham bar so that it stood out amongst the many other hotels that lined the main road for all the wrong reasons.
    Frankie’s dad, Alistair, answered the door. I haven’t seen him in three years but I’ve always been fond of him. When I was a kid he went to great pains to welcome me into their home. I think it was mainly because Frankie is an only child and he wanted her to have company, and being without a dad myself, Ilooked up to him. He was – is – attractive, clever, with a dry wit and good dress sense (for a dad!). I have to admit to having a bit of a crush on him when I was a teenager.
    ‘Sophie Rose Collier!’ he exclaimed when he saw me. ‘The wanderer returns. And all grown up.’
    The last time he’d seen me I’d been a gawky, shy eighteen-year-old, just about to leave for university, with glasses and knobbly knees. He ushered me into the hallway, all the while asking me questions about university, what my course was like, which books I’d read for my English degree, what mark I got, what my future plans were. And it reminded me how much interest he always took in my studies.
    Just being in the hotel again with Alistair took me right back to my childhood. It hasn’t changed a bit: the red carpet with the swirly gold pattern still covers the hall, stairs and landing; the cream walls, the heavy wooden furniture in the lounge-bar area, the huge glass chandeliers hanging from the high ceilings, the smell of red wine and beeswax.
    Alistair sat me in a chair by the window in the lounge, so I had a view of the beach beyond, crammed with bodies. The net curtains floated in the open window, which let in the cacophony (my new word for today!) of voices, traffic and faint music from the arcades. The lounge was empty; the guests must all have been out on the beach, or mooching around the high street. Even though I wanted to stay there talking to him, part of me was desperate to speak to Frankie,knowing I had to tell her something she’d be unhappy about.
    ‘Too early for a glass of wine?’ he asked to my surprise, walking over to the curved bar at the other end of the room. Despite being twenty-one, my mum never offers me alcohol, being a teetotaller herself. That’s the thing about Alistair, he always treats me as a grown-up and with respect. Even when I was a kid he listened to my opinions as if they meant something. It wasn’t as if my mum didn’t listen to me – my mum is great – but she’s always worked so hard. She’s never had the luxury of time, bringing two kids up on her own.
    I opened my mouth to answer when Frankie came swanning into the room, diverting his attention. As usual she looked stunning, in a short floral sundress that skimmed her thighs, her thick hair braided down her back, her skin already tanned thanks to her Italian heritage (her mum’s from Naples). I felt pale and lanky in comparison. Alistair used to refer to me as the English Rose and