Waiting for Wednesday

wanted was to be a father
and I was a father. I had a lovely wife and I had the two boys and then there was Lila.
I loved the boys, kicking a ball with them, taking them fishing, everything you’re
supposed to do. But when I saw Lila, the moment she was born, I thought, You’re my
little …’ He stopped and sniffed, and Frieda saw that his eyes were
glistening. He coughed. ‘She was the loveliest little girl, smart, funny,
beautiful. And then, well, why do things happen? Her mum, my wife, she got ill and was
ill for years and then she died. Lila was thirteen. Suddenly I couldn’t get
through to her. I’d thought we had a special bond and then it was like I was
talking a foreign language. Her friends changed, she started going out more and more and
then staying away from home. I should have done more but I was away so much.’
    ‘What about her brothers?’
    ‘They’d left by then.
Ricky’s in the army. Steve lives in Canada.’
    ‘So what happened?’
    Dawes spread his hands helplessly. ‘I
got it wrong,’ he said.‘Whatever I did, it wasn’t
enough or it wasn’t what she needed. When I tried to put my foot down, it just
drove her away. If I tried to be nice, it felt like it was too late. The more I wanted
her to be there, the more she rejected me. I was just her boring old dad. When she was
seventeen, she was mainly living with friends. I’d see her every few days, then
every few weeks. She treated me a bit like a stranger. Then I didn’t see her at
all. I tried to find her, but I couldn’t. After a while, I stopped trying,
although I never stopped thinking of her, missing her. My girl.’
    ‘Do you know how she was supporting
herself?’
    Frieda saw his jaw flexing. His face had
gone white.
    ‘She was having problems. I think
there may have been drugs. She hadn’t been eating properly. Not for
years.’
    ‘These friends. Do you know their
names?’
    Dawes shook his head. ‘I used to know
her friends when they were younger. Like Agnes, the one you’ve met. They were
lovely the way girls are together, laughing, going shopping, thinking they’re more
grown-up than they are. But she dropped them, took up with a new crowd. She never
brought them back, never introduced me to them.’
    ‘When she moved out for good, have you
any idea where she lived?’
    He shook his head again. ‘It was
somewhere in the area,’ he said. ‘But then I think she must have moved
away.’
    ‘Did you report her
missing?’
    ‘She was almost eighteen. One time I
got so worried, I went to the police station. But when I mentioned her age, the
policeman at the desk wouldn’t even write a report.’
    ‘When was this? I mean, the last time
you saw her?’
    He knitted his brow.
    ‘Oh, God,’ he said at last.
‘It’s more than a year now. It was November of the year before last. I
can’t believe it. But that’sone of the things I think
about when I’m working out here. That she’ll walk through the door, the way
she used to.’
    Frieda sat for a moment, thinking.
    ‘Are you all right?’ Dawes
asked.
    ‘Why do you say that?’
    ‘Maybe it takes one to know one, but
you look tired and pale.’
    ‘You don’t know what I normally
look like.’
    ‘You said it’s your day off. Is
that right?’
    ‘Yes. Basically.’
    ‘You’re an analyst. You talk to
people.’
    Frieda stood up, ready to go.
‘That’s right,’ she said.
    Dawes stood up as well. ‘I should have
found someone like you for Lila,’ he said. ‘It’s not really my way.
I’m not good at talking to people. What I do instead is to work at something, fix
something. But you’re easy to talk to.’ He looked around awkwardly.
‘Are you going to search for Lila?’
    ‘I wouldn’t know where to
start.’
    ‘If you hear anything, you’ll
let me know?’
    On the way out, Dawes found a piece of
paper, wrote his phone number on it and gave it to Frieda. As she took it, an idea
occurred to her.
    ‘Did she ever cut your hair?’
she asked.
    He touched his bald pate. ‘I’ve
never had much to cut.’
    ‘Or you hers?’
    ‘No. She had beautiful hair. She was
proud of it.’ He forced a smile. ‘She’d never have let me anywhere
near it. Why do you ask that?’
    ‘Something Agnes said.’
    Back on the street, Frieda looked at the
map and set off, not back to the station she’d come from but the next one along.
It was a couple of miles. That would be all right. She neededthe walk
and she felt more alive now, alert to her surroundings in