Usual Place

2 March

Dear Dairy,

Something is off. I can’t place it yet.

Mum started packing today. Not properly—just pulling things out and putting them into boxes without labelling them. The linen cupboard is empty.

She hasn’t touched those boxes since the year Dad left.

I walked into the kitchen while she was on the phone. She hung up immediately. Too quickly.

“What do you want?” she said.

I told her I just needed a drink. She didn’t answer.

Last night, I woke up around midnight. The hallway light was on.

Her door was slightly open.

She was sitting on the floor, sobbing, I think.

I didn’t go in.

I thought about asking her this morning.

I didn’t.

3 March

Dear Dairy,

When I got home from school, there was a note pushed under the door.

I know what you did. Meet me at 10. Usual place.

I assumed it was meant for someone else. I threw it away.

When Mum came home, she asked if anything had been delivered.

I told her about the note.

She told me to get it back.

She read it once. Then again.

“Don’t worry about it,” she said.

She asked about my exams after that. Too casually.

At 9:30, she came into my room.

Said a colleague had an accident.

Said she didn’t know when she’d be back.

She left at 9:42.

The note is on my desk now.

I don’t think it was a mistake.

4 March (9.00 a.m.)

Dear Diary,

Mum said she would be back soon, but it is morning now and she still hasn’t returned.

Something feels wrong.

I called her phone, but it started ringing inside the house. It was lying on her bed. When I checked it, there were several messages.

I know what you did.

The same message again and again.

I finally did what I had been debating since yesterday. I called Dad.

He said I should have told him earlier. He was right. He said he would come immediately and asked if I could pick him up from the airport. He sent me his flight details.

After the call, I noticed something strange. The boxes Mum had packed yesterday were gone. I could have sworn they were still in the hallway when she left last night.

I went to the airport to pick Dad up.

He never arrived.

I’ve been calling him, but his phone goes straight to voicemail.

There’s still no sign of Mum.

I called Mum’s boyfriend — the one I can’t stand — and told him everything. He said he would report it to the police and then come over.

I hope he comes soon.

4 March (1.30p.m)

Dear Diary,

I couldn’t just sit and wait. I went into Mum’s room to see if I could find something that might tell me where the “usual place” was.

When I opened her wardrobe, a pile of clothes fell out.

That alone felt wrong.

Mum has always been obsessively organised. We used to argue about it all the time because my wardrobe looks like a disaster zone.

Hers never did.

As I bent down to pick up the clothes, something small slipped out and fell to the floor.

A business card.

An attorney.

I stared at it for a long time. Mum had never mentioned a lawyer before.

Lately we barely talked at all. I suddenly realised how little I knew about what was actually going on in her life.

I called the number on the card.

The receptionist said the attorney would be in later, but she could give me an appointment today.

I took it.

After that I searched Mum’s drawers. In the bottom one I found a small notebook filled with phone numbers. No names beside them.

Just numbers.

I don’t know what they mean.

It’s past lunchtime now and I suddenly realise I haven’t eaten since yesterday.

I’m not really hungry though.

I just want to know where Mum is.

4 March (11.30 p.m)

Dear Diary,

I just got back from the attorney’s office.

Mum’s boyfriend never came by as he had promised. When I called him, he said he was dealing with a family emergency and would come later. He also admitted he hadn’t reported Mum missing yet.

I hung up before he finished.

I decided to go to the attorney’s office myself before going to the police.

The office was in a run-down building on Little Lygon Street. The kind of place people usually avoid.

I wondered what Mum’s connection to it could be.

The receptionist called the attorney to say I had arrived and I was sent in immediately.

The man inside had his back to me.

When he turned around, I nearly lost my balance.

It was Mum’s boyfriend.

Before I could react, he searched me. I didn’t resist. There were two men standing near the door.

Then he smiled.

“Thanks for bringing me the notepad,” he said.

I didn’t answer.

He leaned back in his chair and studied me for a moment.

“Your mother got involved in business she shouldn’t have,” he said calmly. “But don’t worry. She’s fine. Wherever she is.”

My stomach dropped.

“And your father,” he continued, “my men picked him up at the airport before he could reach you. I knew you’d contact him.”

He shrugged.

“I’ll let him go once I finish a few loose ends.”

I don’t know what those loose ends are.

But I think I just became one of them.

I keep thinking about the last few days and how many signs I ignored. The boxes. The phone calls. Mum crying in the middle of the night. She must have known something was coming. Maybe that is why she started packing. Maybe she was trying to leave before things got worse. I wish I had asked her what was wrong instead of pretending everything was normal. Now she is gone and all I have are pieces of her life that I never understood.

I locked the front door tonight.

For the first time in years, I checked the windows too.