I grabbed my chance to go sit in my back shed and smoke a bag of Joe’s weed, cigarettes and cold beer on the workbench beside me. I hadn’t smoked a cigarette in months, but still, I’d picked up a packet.
I knew this was me running away from everything. I didn’t want to do this every time things turned to shit, but I did. My friends who used pot didn’t binge like I did. I’d been hiding the binges from Evie.
I’d been a heavy drug user before I met Evie. Not just pot but everything I could get my hands on. I’d hated myself at every step, following in my parents’ footsteps. Evie had given me a different direction.
I leaned on my knees, head down, blowing smoke onto the dirt-crusted concrete floor.
It seemed like there was something I was supposed to be doing right now, something about Evie. But I didn’t know what the hell it was. Maybe I’d beg Verity for money and go searching for Evie. But where would I start? Where would I go?
Evie, where the hell are you?
A hundred possibilities flashed through my head.
36. Constance
I NEEDED SOME NEW CLOTHES. I’D packed warm gear for the Sydney winter, but I hadn’t anticipated heading off to Europe. The London summer had produced a sticky, hot day. The grey rain of yesterday had been a ruse.
Leaving my apartment, I wandered down to the streets, looking to buy shorts and a couple of tank tops. I sweated horribly in the heat.
Young people moved in groups along Southwark Street, laughing, bumping each other, checking phones. High on life. The girls wearing tiny shorts and halter tops. The boys proudly shirtless. Backpackers, probably.
What was Kara doing right now?
If I could just see her, all this could end.
I found myself heading into a set of crowded food stalls. Scents of spicy Indian curries and Spanish paella. A sign proclaimed the area as Borough Markets. My first instinct was to about-face and flee.
But there was no point in doing that. Kara could be here.
I let myself thread into the crowd of people.
This was the London I’d loved on my previous trips. For minutes, I lost myself, buying earrings for Kara and myself, cute summery scarves and a couple of second-hand books to read back at the apartment.
Rosemary hadn’t set me any tasks to do. I was free to keep wandering. I trusted that she was hard at work doing whatever it was that she did. I decided the best way of spending my time was to walk the streets in case Kara was out there somewhere today. It was the tiniest of chances, but at least it was something. Waiting in the apartment wasn’t going to help anyone.
I peeled off a long-sleeved top and jeans in the changing room of a clothing store and stepped into a pair of khaki shorts and a black tank top. I didn’t understand the sizes, so I’d just picked up what I thought would fit me. I knotted a multi-coloured summer scarf around my neck and put on the earrings. Looking at myself in the mirror, I felt mentally lighter.
I paid for the new gear then headed back out onto the street, tossing the old clothes in the trash. A trendy health-food stall advertised thirty-six different types of juices. Wheatgrass and kale and beetroot and exotic fruits I hadn’t heard of. I ordered their Liver Zinger. I didn’t ask what was in it. I didn’t much care about the taste of things. It was the nutrient value that mattered.
I kept walking, through the markets and on to the music and song of several street buskers, muffled by the beeps and grinding brakes of the busy London traffic.
My phone buzzed inside my tote. Juggling the drink and the bag of things I’d bought for Kara, I fished out the phone. Rosemary’s number was displayed on the screen. “Yes, Rosemary?”
“Hello, how are you?”
“I’m just out getting a few things. Not sure where I am now. I was on Southwark Street. All so incredibly busy!”
“Yes, you’ve arrived in peak tourist season.” She paused for a moment. “Constance, I have a little bit of news.”
I steeled myself. News could mean anything. It could be something extremely bad. “I’m listening.”
“I’m not sure whether Kara’s in the UK at all.”
“What?” I stopped still, the light feeling I’d had earlier instantly vanishing. “Then . . . where?”
“I’m not certain. I’ve had a busy night and morning. It’s Kara’s close connection with Wilson Carlisle that’s been concerning me the most. I don’t know what his game is. And because I don’t know, I’m pulling out all stops. The sooner we locate Kara the better. The fact that he had a young girl like Kara living with him tells me quite a bit about him. He might have been grooming her, gaining her trust. Let me explain further. For the past few years, a great deal of my work has been in locating trafficked persons. Very young persons, I might add. From age twelve upwards. There are groups trafficking from the Balkans and former Soviet Union to London and Greece and other countries within northern Europe. And I—”