Free Father Unknown by Fay Sampson Page A

eyes. The eyes themselves had a look which Suzie could only describe as haunted.
    Suzie struggled to find the words of casual greeting she had been going to say. Instead, she blurted out, without preliminaries, ‘I’m sorry to hear Tamara’s not well. Millie’s been missing her.’
    Lisa Dawson’s eyes flew to her husband, as if seeking permission to speak. Her voice took on a forced cheerfulness. ‘Tamara’s fine. Nothing to worry about.’
    The imposing figure of Mr Dawson stepped forward, almost shouldering his wife out of the way. A smile Suzie would have described as ‘professional’ creased his fleshy jowls. His voice was higher than she expected.
    â€˜I’m afraid she’s been overworking. Girls that age live on their nerves, don’t they? We decided she needed a break. Peace and quiet. I’d be grateful if your daughter would leave her alone for a bit. School’s not what she needs to be reminded of, just now.’
    Nick’s voice came from behind Suzie, firm, with a hard edge. ‘I should have thought we all need friends, especially when life’s not going too well. I’m surprised she didn’t tell Millie she was going away.’
    The smile vanished. ‘Are you trying to teach me my job, Mr . . .?’
    â€˜Fewings.’
    â€˜And are you a child psychologist? No? I thought not. In case you are unaware of the fact, let me inform you that I have the care of nearly a thousand children. I think my judgement about Tamara’s state of mind might be worth something. Now, if you’ll excuse us . . .’ He took his wife’s elbow, forcing her round.
    â€˜Give Tamara my love, and Millie’s,’ Suzie said hastily as they turned away. ‘I’m fond of her. Tell her I hope it’s . . . I hope everything works out well for her.’
    Is it true? And do they know? she thought frantically. Do they know Tamara’s pregnant? Has she told them? Or did she just . . . disappear?
    Mr Dawson’s small eyes stared back at her coldly. ‘What could you possibly mean by that, Mrs Fewings?’ Before she could answer, he steered his small wife towards the door.
    â€˜Well,’ said Nick when they had gone. ‘Did you see that bruise on her temple under the hair? I may not be a child psychologist, but I can recognize a battered wife when I see one. I’ll bet good money she didn’t walk into a door.’
    Suzie stared back at him, her thoughts churning. Nick had seen more than she had, but Lisa’s expression had been enough.

TEN
    T he drizzle had stopped. Sunshine lit the flower beds with vibrant summer colour. Nick dried the patio chairs, while Millie laid the table outside for lunch.
    They were halfway through their lasagne and salad when the conservatory doors burst open. A tall eighteen-year-old erupted on to the patio, glowing with health and laughter and a Mediterranean tan. The waving black hair and deep-blue eyes were the mirror image of Nick’s.
    â€˜Tom!’ Suzie flew from her chair to hug him, ridiculously glad of her son’s strong embrace, of his almost mature height. He had only been gone ten days, but she realized suddenly how still and colourless the house had been without him. ‘What happened? We weren’t expecting you back till Tuesday. But it’s lovely to see you.’
    â€˜Thunderstorms in the South of France, would you believe? For weeks, we’ve been sweating in that exam hall in a heat-wave, and then we get flooded out of our campsite in the Camargue. There’s no justice. Our gear was so sodden, we reckoned we might as well pack up and head back for the Channel ferry. Hi, Dad. Cheers, Millie. How’s things?’
    Their laughter faded. It had been a casual question, not expecting a serious answer.
    â€˜Tamara’s missing.’ Millie delivered the news with genuine solemnity, but relishing, Suzie sensed, being able to position herself