The Lost Girls

Contents Title Page The Lost Girls Mercy Carmel Beth Mercy Carmel Beth Mercy Carmel Beth Mercy Carmel Beth Mercy Carmel Beth Mercy Carmel Beth Mercy Carmel Beth Mercy Carmel Beth Carmel Beth Epilogue Acknowledgements Extract: The Girl in the Red Coat About the Author Also by Kate Hamer Copyright THE LOST GIRLS No one ever knew what happened to Mercy Roberts. Although after she left her Appalachian home and had been gone a good while she still sometimes drifted through people’s thoughts like a trail of smoke from a bonfire. Sheila from The Cherry on the Cake bakery store would insert her tongue delicately but precisely in the mauve buttercream of one of her own blueberry cupcakes, making a perfect triangular groove. She would look out through the window onto their single main street as the sweet gloop dissolved in her mouth and remember how Mercy was also particularly partial to blueberry cupcakes. Tony, a man now, thought of her as he threaded bait on his fishing line because he’d shown her how to do the exact same thing down at the pond. The image of her thin little arms as she threw the line and it wicking across the surface of the water was a stamp in his memory. She’d turned to him, beaming, because she’d done it perfect first time. Bob, in the grocery store, would occasionally shift on his feet uncomfortably as he stood behind the counter, and remember her high five, her funny little eyebrows like window arches rising up as she performed it. He should’ve paid closer attention, he rebuked himself. He shouldn’t have been so worried about interfering. But his wife had been 2sick with cancer at the time and although she’d now made a full recovery, he’d been too distracted to pay much attention. Besides, the town had changed so much. New people had come, old people had gone, everything shifting into fresh patterns so the place that Mercy had filled became smaller and smaller, less significant. Miss Forbouys, with her rows of little ones in the classroom, would sometimes think of Mercy when she carried out her customary practice of putting some music on the old-fashioned record player at the end of each day when she was tired to the bone. She remembered how Mercy always did love the devotional music in particular, even though Miss Forbouys wasn’t sure if she was really allowed to play it in school. But heck, music was music and her children should be introduced to all the good things in the world, wherever they sprang from. How Mercy had loved it, her little feet in their shoes with cut-off toes tapping away under her desk in time to the rhythm. Miss Forbouys would at this point give a shake of her head. At least she’d had nothing to do with it all, she told herself. Something had stopped her becoming part of the whole enterprise and she was glad of it now. That she couldn’t have lived with. Mercy 1999, West Virginia The day Mercy was saved she stood on the front porch and hollered in through the broken window of the bedroom. ‘Ma, Father. I’ve been saved!’ Silence. The hole in the glass was pretty much where her mouth was so she knew her voice must’ve sounded in the room good and loud. ‘Lazy asses,’ she muttered. They were probably still asleep even though it was well gone noon. Inside would be shuttered up and dark, the malfunctioning microwave light blinking on and off in the kitchen-diner. Either they were asleep, or they were inside and ignoring the good news, probably because it highlighted the fact that they were no more likely to be saved than the spider weaving its fine, tiny web in the corner of the front door. It occurred to Mercy that perhaps they were even afraid and sorrowful a mere eight-year-old girl like herself would fly like a bird into heaven’s kingdom and they would never get to see the shining gates, not even a gleam of them. In truth that made her somewhat sorrowful too. She turned away from the wooden shack with its rickety porch and set off down the dirt path that led to the river where she had a hope of meeting Tony, her friend, and telling him the good news. She knew for sure he’d want to hear all about it.4 As she walked along the road the joy she’d felt earlier returned, only now it had taken on a kind of shimmering quality that was outside and inside her at the same time – whereas before it was only contained inside. Now it had become beautiful to both feel and behold. The mountain trees either side of the road seemed lit with a perfect kind of light. She looked down at her yellow cotton skirt and her skinny legs and the blue shoes, which, despite the fact they were opened up at the toe with a knife because they had grown too small, were still comfortable to walk in and in which she could get along pretty well. Though if she went too fast the ends of her toes tapped painfully on the dusty road so that fact gave her a problem on occasion. Then she heard the noise of a car engine behind her and as it came closer she realised it was slowing down. Sure enough, a red truck came up alongside and the engine idled down to a steady beat as it stopped. She could only see the reflections of the trees on the window so it was impossible to see who was inside. Slowly, the window wound down and first off, all she could see was a battered suede hat with a leather thong around the crown, and then it got wound down further so it was completely open and she could see the face. She felt her own face practically splitting in two in a grin. ‘Bob,’ she said, joy