The Summer That Never Was by Peter Robinson Read Free Book Online Page B

matter of some heated discussion.
    “Is he happy at school?” she asked.
    “He’s never complained,” said Martin. “No more than any kid would. You know, he doesn’t like his geography teacher, doesn’t like games and algebra’s too hard. That sort of thing.”
    “He’s not a sports fan?”
    “Unfortunately, no,” said Martin. “I’ve tried to get him interested, but…” He shrugged.
    “What about the other boys at school? Even if he is, as you say, a bit of a loner, he must have some contact with his classmates?”
    “I suppose so, but I’ve never seen any evidence of it.”
    “He’s never brought friends to the house?”
    “Never.”
    “Or asked permission to visit their houses?”
    “No.”
    “Does he go out a lot?”
    “No more than any other boy his age,” said Martin. “Maybe even less.”
    “We want Luke to have a normal life,” said Robin. “It’s hard knowing what to allow and what not to. It’s hard to know how much discipline to apply. If you don’t give enough, then the child runs wild, and the parents get the blame. If you keep too strict control, he doesn’t develop naturally, and he blames you for screwing him up. We do our best to be good parents and strike a fair balance.”
    Annie, an outsider herself at school because she was brought up in an artists’ commune, the “hippie chick” to the other kids, understood just how alienated Luke might feel, not through any fault of his parents. For a start, they lived in an out-of-the-way place like Swainsdale Hall, a grand place at that; secondly, they were minor celebrities; and thirdly, he sounded like an introverted personality anyway.
    “I’m sure you do,” she said. “What did he do yesterday?” she asked.
    “He went into the town centre.”
    “How did he get there?”
    “Bus. There’s a good service, at least until after tea time.”
    “Did he have any particular reason to go to Eastvale yesterday?”
    “Nothing in particular,” Robin answered. “He just loves hunting for second-hand books, and he wanted to look at some new computer stuff.”
    “That’s all?”
    “As far as I know. It was nothing out of the ordinary.”
    “Has he ever stopped out all night before?”
    “No,” said Robin, putting her hand to her throat. “Never. That’s why we’re so worried. He wouldn’t put us through this unless something…something awful’s happened.”
    She started to cry, and her husband held her, smoothing her silky, spun-gold hair. “There, there, darling. Don’t worry. They’ll find him.” All the time his intense eyes were looking right at Annie, as if daring her to disagree. Not that she wanted to. A man used to having his own way. A man of action, too, Annie had no doubt, used to running ahead with the ball and slamming it into the back of the net.
    “What about the rest of the family: uncles, aunts, grandparents?” she asked. “Was he close to anybody in particular?”
    “Robin’s family’s down in Devon,” said Martin. “My parents are dead, but I’ve got a married sister living in Dorset and a brother in Cardiff. Of course, we rang everyone we could think of, but nobody’s seen him.”
    “Did he have any money with him?”
    “Not much. A few pounds. Look, Inspector,” he said, “I do appreciate your questions, but you’re on the wrong track. Luke has his mobile. If he wanted to go somewhere or do something that meant he wouldn’t be coming home, or that he’d be late, then why wouldn’t he give us a buzz?”
    “Unless it was something he didn’t want you to know about.”
    “But he’s only fifteen ,” said Martin. “What on earth could he be up to that’s so secret he wouldn’t want his parents to know about it?”
    Do you know where your children are? Do you know what your children are doing? It was Annie’s experience, both through her own memories and as a policewoman, that there was no one more secretive than an adolescent, especially a sensitive, lonely adolescent,