“I’m in here, Jack,” Mrs. Shortt called out, as though they were lifelong friends.

He went through to the unsurprisingly gleaming kitchen. The washing machine was running, RTE Radio 1 was on in the background, and the kettle was building up its crescendo to boiling point. From the kitchen there were French doors that led out to the back garden and again it was as well maintained as the front, with a large birdhouse, currently accommodating a greedy-looking robin singing between each peck at the seeds.

“You have a lovely home, Mrs. Shortt,” Jack said, taking a seat at the kitchen table. “Thank you for the kind invitation.”

“You can call me Susan, and you’re welcome.” She filled the teapot with boiling water, covered it with a tea cozy and waited. Jack hadn’t had tea like that since his mother used to make it. Despite welcoming him into her home, Susan was still on guard and stood by the counter with one hand on the tea cozy, the other fiddling with a tea bag. “You’re the first friend of Sandy’s to call by since she was a teenager.” She looked deep in thought.

Jack didn’t know how to respond to that.

“Everybody after that knew better.” She smiled. “How well do you know Sandy?”

“Not well enough.”

“No,” she said more to herself, “I didn’t think so.”

“Every day that I search for her, I learn something new about her,” he added.

“You’re searching for her?” She raised her eyebrows.

“That’s why I’m here, Mrs. Shortt-”

“Susan, please.” She looked pained. “I look around for Harold’s mother and the scent of cabbage when I hear that name. Everything was cabbage, cabbage, cabbage with that woman.” She laughed at the memory.

“Susan.” He smiled. “The last thing I came here to do is worry you, but I was due to meet with Sandy last week, as you mentioned. She didn’t show up and since then I’ve done everything to try to contact her.” He deliberately left out the details about finding her car and phone. “I’m sure she’s fine,” he insisted, “but I really want-” He started again. “I really need to find her.” Sending Sandy’s mother into a panic was the very opposite of his intentions and he held his breath awaiting her response. He was relieved if not a little shocked to see a tired smile crawl onto her face but it gave up, collapsing in a sad heap before reaching her eyes.

“You’re right, Jack, you certainly don’t know our Sandy well enough.” She turned her back to him to pour the tea. “Now let me teach you another thing about my daughter. I love her very much but she has the ability to hide as expertly as a sock in a washing machine. No one knows where it goes, just as no one knows where she goes, but at least when she decides to come back, we’re all here, waiting for her.”

“I’ve heard that from everyone this week.”

She whisked around. “Who else did you speak to?”

“Her landlord, her clients, her doctor…” His voice trailed off guiltily. “I really didn’t want to have to call on you about this.”

“Her doctor?” Susan asked, not minding at all that she had been left until last. She was more interested in the mention of her daughter’s doctor.

“Yes, Dr. Burton,” Jack said slowly, not sure whether to reveal Sandy’s private information to her mother.

“Oh!” Susan tried to hide a smile.

“You know him?”

“Do you know by any chance if it’s Gregory Burton?” She tried to hide her excitement but failed miserably.

“That’s him, but he isn’t so keen on me, in case you’re talking to him.”

“Indeed,” Susan said thoughtfully, not hearing what he’d said. “Indeed,” she repeated with her eyes alight, answering a question Jack wasn’t privy to. She was clearly delighted, but remembering Jack was in the room, she composed herself, intrigue taking the place of a mother’s excitement. “Why is it that you want to find Sandy so much?”

“I was worried about her when she didn’t turn up to meet me in Glin, and then I was unable to contact her, which made me even more concerned.” It was partly true but it sounded lame and he knew it.

Susan appeared to know it too. She raised her eyebrows and spoke in a bored tone. “I’ve been waiting for three weeks for Barney the plumber to come and fix my sink but I haven’t yet planned on visiting his mother.”

Jack looked absentmindedly at her sink. “Well, Sandy is looking for my brother. I even got in touch with a member of the Gardaí in Limerick.” He felt his face flush as Susan let out a sound of surprise. “Graham Turner is his name, in case he calls.”

Susan smiled. “We called the police on three occasions at the beginning but we’ve learned not to, now. If Garda Turner asks around he’ll know not to continue with his investigations.”

“He’s already done that,” Jack said grimly, and then he frowned. “I don’t understand all this, Susan. I can’t understand where she’s gone. I can’t fathom how she can disappear so cleverly without anyone knowing where she is, without anyone wanting to know where she is.”

“We each have our hiding places and we each put up with the little quirks of the people we love.” She rested her head on her hand and seemed to study him.

He sighed. “That’s it?”

“What do you mean?”

“That’s it? Just let people vanish? No more questions asked? Come and go as you please? Flutter in and out. Disappear, reappear, and disappear again? No problem!” He laughed angrily. “Nobody worry about a thing! Don’t bother caring about all the people at home that love you and that are worrying themselves sick to death about you.”

There was silence.

“You love Sandy?”

“What?” He screwed his face up.

“You said…Never mind.” She sipped her tea.

“I’ve only ever spoken to Sandy on the phone,” Jack said slowly. “There was no…relationship between us.”

“So by finding my daughter, you find your brother?” He didn’t have time to answer the question. “Do you think your brother’s hiding place is the same as Sandy’s?” she asked boldly.

And there it was. A complete stranger, someone who had met him no more than ten minutes before, had summed up the ridiculous notion behind his frantic search, in one question. Susan allowed a few moments to pass before offering, “I don’t know the circumstances of your brother’s disappearance, Jack, but I know he’s not in the same place as Sandy. Here’s another lesson,” she said softly, “a lesson Harold and I have learned over the years. No one ever finds the other sock in the washing machine, not through actively looking, anyway.” She waved her hand dismissively. “Things just turn up. You can drive yourself crazy trying to find them. It doesn’t matter how neat and tidy you keep your life, it doesn’t matter how organized things are.” She paused and laughed sadly. “I’m a hypocrite, I somehow pretend to myself that a tidy house will make Sandy come home more often. I think, if she can just see everything, if she can see that everything is in order and has its place, then she won’t have to worry about things going missing.” She looked around the spotless kitchen. “Anyway, it doesn’t matter how much, how often, or how closely you keep an eye on things because you can’t control it. Sometimes things and people just go.” She waved her hand through the air on the last word. “Just like that.” Then she placed the comforting hand over his. “Don’t destroy yourself trying to find out where.”

They said their good-byes at the door and Susan, trying to hide her embarrassment, said, “Talking about things turning up, if you do come across Sandy before we do, tell her I found her purple diary with the butterflies. It was in her old bedroom. Unusual, because I’ve cleaned out that wardrobe dozens of times but never came across it.” She frowned. “Anyway, it would be important for her to know.”

She looked up and waved again across the road and Jack turned to see a woman similar in age to Susan. “That’s Mrs. Butler,” she said, although it was of no importance to Jack. “Her daughter Jenny-May went missing when she was ten years old, the same age as Sandy. Such a lovely little girl, an angel, everyone said.”