‘Any clues?’ Danny’s at my shoulder.
I tell him about the something else. ‘This property has always been residential. It doesn’t appear to have ever been a centre of any sort.’
Danny shifts closer. ‘1994 is a long time ago. Perhaps what it was in those days is lost in the mists of time.’ I feel that enigmatic smile of his. ‘If you got the information about this Suzi Lake Centre from Sugar’s room maybe he got it mixed up with somewhere else. You know cops back then.’
I’m stung. ‘Cops back then.’ What’s that mean? ‘What are you implying about Sugar?’
Let’s get something straight. I can have a pot shot at Sugar because he’s my Sugar. Anyone else bad-mouthing him needs to watch out. I don’t enlighten Danny that I did not find the information about the centre in Sugar’s room but from somewhere else.
Danny shrugs. ‘Why has he got a room that’s such a big secret? Why won’t he tell you what he’s doing in there?’ His tone changes. ‘What’s he hiding about your mother? I have a mind to—’
‘No! Don’t go anywhere near Sugar.’ My body jerks as if he’s pressing against an open wound. ‘Besides, you were right to suggest we keep our relationship from him.’ Hell. More secrets! My chin tilts. ‘There’s no way on earth Sugar would be up to no good. You don’t know him the way I do.’
‘No, of course I don’t.’
My birth father soon slides back into full, open-armed Danny style for the returned manager. I sigh inwardly and then turn back to ask her. ‘Do you mind if I ask if there’s ever been a police investigation into these premises?’
Shock fills her face. ‘A police investigation? Certainly not. What sort of establishment do you think we’re running here?’
The question was a mistake. A bad one. Suddenly I get the impression we’ve outstayed out welcome. I try to rally. ‘Not now, obviously. I meant in the past.’
She sniffs. ‘I’ve no idea. Perhaps you should ask the police.’
Our tour is nearly over but I’m now nearly excluded entirely, the manager’s attention squarely focused on Danny. A curious child appears from under the main stairs – a space that would usually house a cupboard has been creatively turned into a toy shop. Danny playfully sticks out his tongue. The kid loves that, giggling wildly before scampering off.
‘Hearing a child laugh is one of the most precious sounds,’ he tells me, tiny lines crinkling the corners of his eyes. They disappear when he adds, ‘I can’t say there was much of that in my life when I was sent to boarding school.’
That’s the first time my birth father has spoken about his childhood. Danny steps briskly out of the past and the manager waves us goodbye. The sound of the door closing behind us reverberates through me like an almighty bong signalling this pathway to finding the women and my mother is closed for good.
I stand in the middle of the street and scream and scream and scream my frustrations.
Of course, I don’t. It’s in my head. It’s what I’d like to do.
We stand next to Danny’s car. His shoes shuffle in an awkward motion. ‘I’m sorry that didn’t give you the answers you need.’
‘As you said, it was nearly thirty years ago.’ Though why does the internet insist it was always residential? Unless Patrick Walsh has got it all wrong. Well, it only serves me right for trusting a man who talks about extra-terrestrial extractions and experiments in the same tone you use to buy a loaf of bread. I have only myself to blame.
Danny’s next words have my hand freezing on the passenger door. ‘Can’t you get into that room and find out what Sugar’s got in there? What he’s up to?’
Danny’s insistence on this is, if I’m honest, beginning to hack me off. Maybe I should just tell him to lay off, or better yet, that I won’t be doing that. But I don’t want discord between us as we’ve only just found each other.
‘It’s locked,’ is my hasty excuse. ‘I think I’ll get the bus back.’
Danny is hurt. ‘I didn’t mean to suggest anything—’
I don’t even let him finish. ‘I could do with the fresh air. It’s a short journey in any case.’
I turn and leave. The sensation of his gaze on me remains until I round the corner. I feel crushing disappointment. Then again, finding anything of value after all this time was always going to be a long shot.
There’s that prickly sensation again of someone watching me and it’s not Danny this time. I turn. A distorted blur shifts and is gone. What the hell? I march to the corner of the street but there’s no one there.