Chapter 63
The telephone rang as Cheryl was putting the empty milk bottle outside the front door and she rushed to answer it.
Phone calls were unusual enough in the Young household to get Sheila out of bed; a call right now she’d inevitably assume was something to do with the tokens and insist on dealing with it herself.
‘Hello?’
‘Hi.’ The voice was male. Deep. Not young but far from old. A nice voice, with a hint of a West Country accent. ‘Is that Miss Young? Cheryl Young?’
‘Speaking.’ It would be a journalist. She’d ask him to call again in the morning, tell him that her mother was dealing with all calls from the press.
‘My name’s Craig Lewis,’ the man said. ‘I’m one of the token recipients. Like you.’
Cheryl recognised the name instantly. She’d written all of them down after they’d been announced on the Peter Morgan show. Her mother had insisted, screeching at her to find a pen and paper. Craig Lewis and Trevor Winter were the missing two. Holly, Tara, Sabri, Robin, Cheryl, Trevor and Craig.
‘Hello,’ she replied.
‘I hope it’s not too late to call,’ he went on. ‘I’ve been speaking to the others – well, texting the others. We’ve got a WhatsApp group, I don’t know if you know that.’
‘Yes, I know. Tara told me. I met her in the library the other day. I can’t join it, though. I don’t have a smartphone.’
‘Cheryl, I wanted to make sure you’re OK,’ Craig said. ‘This whole business, well, it’s been a big shock for all of us. I don’t want you feeling isolated.’
No one, not even Tara, had asked her how she was dealing with the shock of it all.
‘So, are you?’ he repeated.
The question threw her. ‘Am I what?’
He laughed. ‘Are you OK? You and your mother have been on TV a lot. Those people can be very intrusive. You must be feeling the pressure.’
Cheryl glanced over towards the front door.
‘A bit, I suppose,’ she admitted. ‘There are people hanging around outside the house. We keep calling the police but all they can do is ask them to move on and then ten minutes later, they’re back.’
‘I know how you feel. I had to move out of my house a few days ago too. It’s very unsettling.’
‘It is,’ she agreed. She was so glad he’d called; she was feeling better already.
‘We can help each other, though, Cheryl, don’t you think? We’re all in the same boat. We can support each other.’
‘Yes, yes, we can.’
‘How would you feel about a meeting if I can talk the others into it? I think, if we all get together, we might be able to make some sense of what’s going on. And at the very least, we can help each other out.’
‘That’s a good idea.’
She was surprised Tara hadn’t suggested it. It would be nice to meet this Mr Lewis, and wouldn’t it be lovely if the two of them became friends?
Cheryl’s fragile bubble burst when she realised her mother would insist on coming, might even want to take Cheryl’s place entirely.
‘I’m glad you think so,’ he said. ‘I’ll put it to the others, and we’ll be in touch. Would you like my number? In case you need anything?’
Cheryl took down the number he gave with trembling fingers.
‘Goodnight for now, Cheryl.’
‘Goodnight, Mr Lewis.’
‘Craig. Call me Craig.’
She took her time, framing the words in her head before she said them out loud. ‘Goodnight, Craig.’
He’d gone.
Cheryl stood by the phone for a long time, until the house grew cold around her. When she slept that night, the romantic lead in her dreams was no longer called Nick. Craig was her new favourite name.