When I came home from work the light on my Ansaphone was flashing. I pressed to hear the message while I put the kettle on. Molly's voice stopped me in my tracks. It sounded different though, as if in a wind tunnel. I recognised that sound.
'No?' I pleaded inwardly.
'Mum? Where are you? Mum? I can't find my way back, Mum?' her voice faded out. The Ansaphone bleeped and the machine intoned that
'There are no more messages' before switching itself off.
This was the first time I had heard Molly's voice in the six years since her disappearance and I had missed her call. I sat and sobbed before calling the Police. I stayed by that phone and waited for a second call that didn't come, before going through Molly's room and searching for what I feared all along was at the root of why Molly and I were apart. Finally, at midnight, I laid out her Ouija Board and lit two black candles.
'Okay Molly', I whispered, 'if you can't find your way back to me, then I'll come to you'.