“Helen, you must try to feed her,” Mrs. Mason said. She placed the child in Helen’s arms and the little girl began to nurse, sucking like a normal child. Except for her obvious deformity, she appeared to be healthy.
“What will you name her?” Mrs. Mason asked gently.
“I don’t know. You don’t need to stay, Mrs. Mason. We’ll be all right on our own.”
“I’ll stay with you until David comes home,” Mrs. Mason replied. “I’ll make some tea, and you should have something to eat.”
“I can’t eat,” Helen said, shaking her head. “I just can’t.”
“You can and you should. You’ll need your strength in the days to come, Helen.”
“To do what?”
“To cope.”
“Will she live, Mrs. Mason?” Helen asked. “Can she live like this?”
“I think you’ll need to speak to Dr. Ross. He’ll advise you.”
Helen nodded, sniffling loudly. What could Dr. Ross possibly say? It wasn’t as if there was a way to grow limbs. Even if the baby was basically healthy, she’d never be able to fend for herself. She’d need round-the-clock care for the rest of her life. What kind of a life would she have if she lived into adulthood? Helen had encountered plenty of patients with missing limbs at the hospital, had seen their struggle for independence and their anger and frustration at being pitied or perceived as being less than whole. Most of them were missing a single limb, but Annie was quadriplegic. Her emotional struggle would be as severe as her physical disability, if not more so.
At the thought of David seeing the baby, Helen began to cry again. What would he say? What would Davy say? Dear God, how could she explain this to a five-year-old boy? Helen gingerly touched the baby’s soft pink cheek. The skin felt like velvet beneath her finger. The baby’s head was covered with soft brown curls, her face angelic. She was just as Helen had imagined her, and when wrapped up, she looked like the daughter she’d dreamed of.
This was all her fault and she would do anything to make things right, but it was too late. She’d gladly have died if this little girl could have been born healthy. Why should she have to bear the punishment for her mother’s selfishness? Helen’s grip loosened and she dropped the baby onto her lap, unable to bear the pain any longer. Mrs. Mason took the child and returned her to the cot, before going downstairs to fetch Helen’s tea.
“Here we are,” Mrs. Mason cooed as she edged into the room with a tray. “I brought you tea and a ham sandwich. Nothing like a cup of tea to revive you.”
“No,” Helen protested, and tried to get up, but Mrs. Mason, who’d set the tray down on the bureau, gently pushed her back down.
“You’re too weak to be gadding about.”
Helen sank into the pillows and wished she could go to sleep and never wake up, but Mrs. Mason pushed a cup into her stiff hands. The sweet tea tasted good, and Helen marveled that something could still feel normal after what had just happened. How could anything ever be normal again? Was there any way they could come to terms with this, or was a blood sacrifice required by a vengeful God? She stifled a sob. This wasn’t the Old Testament, and no amount of sacrifice would ever make things right again. Her only choice was to soldier on.
Helen nearly spilled her tea when she heard the front door open and Davy’s excited voice piping up the stairs. “Can we go see Mum now? Did she have the baby? I want to play with it.”
“I don’t think you can play with it just yet, but maybe you can hold it,” David said in his most reasonable voice.
“Okay. Let’s go.”
“You wait down here for a moment, while I check on Mum. Go wash your hands,” David added.
Helen heard David’s heavy tread on the stairs and then he was there, in the room with her and Mrs. Mason, and their child. David looked from Helen to Mrs. Mason, then his gaze traveled to the cot. He looked momentarily confused. He could obviously sense the tension in the room, taste the bitter tang of tragedy that permeated the small space, but he couldn’t understand what was wrong. Helen appeared to be well, and the child was sleeping peacefully in its cot. David looked to Mrs. Mason, who lowered her eyes, as if she were at fault somehow.
“David, may I have a word outside?” she said quietly.
David looked at Helen in utter bewilderment but followed the midwife out of the room. Helen heard their muffled voices, then David came back inside, his face white as a sheet. He walked over to the cot and stared down at the baby, as though unable to believe what he’d just heard. Silent tears ran down his cheeks as he bent down to pick her up. He held her against his chest, rocking her gently.
“Hello there, sweet angel,” he said. “Don’t you worry. Your mother and I will love you till our dying breath and we will do everything in our power to make your life happy and fulfilling.” He kissed the baby on the forehead and turned to Helen.
“So, what shall we name our daughter, love?” His eyes radiated love and support, and Helen nearly choked on the lump that welled up in her throat. “What about Annie? I’ve always liked that name. I seem to recall you liked it too.”
Helen nodded, unable to speak. David returned the baby to its cot and came to sit on the bed. Helen leaned into him and buried her face in his neck.
David enveloped her in a life-saving embrace, holding her as if he were trying to save her from drowning in grief. “It’ll be all right, Helen. We’ll be all right. We’ll look after her. She’ll want for nothing.”
They sat like that for a long while, and when Helen looked up, she saw that Mrs. Mason had slipped out of the room and Davy had come in and was looking down at his baby sister. Helen’s heart shattered into a thousand pieces when his thin voice pierced the silence.
“Where’s the rest of her?”
Chapter 37
Helen stood off to the side, head bowed, as Dr. Ross examined Annie. He’d tried to hide his shock when Helen unwrapped the blanket and laid the child on the examining table, but she had heard the sharp intake of breath and seen the involuntary widening of his eyes.
Dr. Ross pressed the stethoscope to Annie’s little chest and listened intently, then looked into her eyes and mouth, and palpated her belly. He then turned to Helen, his eyes warm with sympathy. “Helen, Annie seems to be healthy, on the whole. Her heart is strong, and her organs appear to be functioning properly. I know you want answers, but I can’t tell what caused this. I’ve never seen anything like it in all my years of practice.”
“What do we do, Dr. Ross?” Helen asked. It took a herculean effort not to break down in front of the doctor, but he must have been well aware of her distress.
“You do what you would do with any newborn. You feed her, change her, put her down for naps, and take her for walks. She needs fresh air.”
“But what will happen when she gets older? How will she live?”
“Helen, there are quadriplegics who lead semi-normal lives. Of course, they need constant care, but they still find some happiness in their lives. Some even learn to use their mouth as a tool.”
“A tool for what?” Helen asked, taken aback by the suggestion.
“To pick things up with, even to paint with. Look, Helen, I know you’re in despair, and I can’t say I blame you, but there’s nothing you can do for Annie other than love her. She will need all your support as she grows. How’s David handling this?”
“Better than I am,” Helen replied truthfully.
“And young Davy?”
“He’s confused, and disappointed. He wanted a sibling he could play with, and instead he got one who’ll never be a companion to him. He’s too young to understand, but she will become his responsibility someday. She’ll be his burden.”
“Don’t say that. Once Annie is older, you might consider placing her in a care home where a medical staff will look after her needs. She needn’t be a burden on anyone.”
“Thank you, Doctor,” Helen said with a deep sigh. “You’ve been very kind.”
“I’m not being kind; I’m be
ing truthful. Helen, I know this is devastating, but it’s not the end. Annie will have a future, as will you. Make an appointment for next month on your way out. I want to see Annie every month for the foreseeable future.”
“I understand.”
Dr. Ross patted Helen on the shoulder as she prepared to leave. “Don’t lose hope, my dear,” he said. “Not ever.”
Chapter 38
June 2015
London, England
Quinn inhaled the tantalizing smell of freshly brewed coffee and toast emanating from the kitchen. Gabe was already up and making breakfast. Quinn considered getting up but decided to give herself an extra five minutes before heading downstairs. She was still shaken by Brett’s unexpected visit, but knowing they’d be leaving for Berwick on Saturday made her feel more optimistic. She had two days to get through, and she would make sure not to open the door to any unexpected visitors or leave herself vulnerable to being intercepted in any way.
She’d gladly have stayed in the house for the duration, but Colin had finally rung, and she was due to meet him at the mortuary in an hour. After that, Jo was due to stop by. She’d sounded conciliatory on the phone, so Quinn had invited her for lunch. She’d tell her about Brett’s arrival in London, since Jo had been very curious about him. Quinn swung her legs out of bed and prepared to face the day, convinced today would be better than yesterday.
The taxi deposited her directly outside the mortuary door, which was a good thing since it’d started to pour, and she’d forgotten her umbrella. Quinn sighed as she walked down the corridor toward Colin’s office. She wasn’t as curious about what he had to say as she’d been only a few days ago. Now that she knew what had happened to Annie, she wasn’t looking forward to hearing the rest of it. Dr. Clegg had thought the baby had died of natural causes, but he’d also intimated that it’d been dismembered, a theory Quinn was sure Colin would dispute.
“Quinn, good morning,” Colin called out. “Go on in. Be right with you.”
Quinn let herself into the lab and was pleased to see Dr. Sarita Dhawan in her usual place. “Sarita, welcome back. I was very sorry to hear about your grandmother,” Quinn said.
“Thank you, Dr. Allenby.” Sarita always used Quinn’s title, as if using her name would be inappropriately familiar. “It’s not all bad news, though,” she said, smiling shyly.
“Oh, really?”
“I’m to be married in December,” Sarita said. She blushed prettily, and her eyes shone with happiness. “The wedding is to be in Mumbai, since that’s where our families are, but after our honeymoon, Shan is coming to live in London.”
“What does Shan do?” Quinn asked.
“He’s a pulmonologist. He’s using the time until our wedding to study for his exam so that he can practice medicine in the U.K. I don’t think he’ll have any trouble. He’s brilliant,” Sarita gushed, her blush deepening. “Really attractive too.”
“Congratulations, Sarita. I’m very happy for you.”
“I wish Dr. Scott was,” Sarita replied. She stealthily peeked toward the door to make sure she wasn’t overheard. “He thinks I’ll have babies on the brain as soon as I get married and leave him. He wasn’t pleased with his temporary assistant.”
“So I heard. Will you leave, do you think?”
“Of course not. I worked too hard to get to where I am to just chuck it all in. Sure, I want children, but not right away, and I have no plans of being a stay-at-home mum. Shan doesn’t want that either. He understands what medicine means to me.”
“I’m glad you’re on the same page.”
“In time, I’d like to work with the police, as a Home Office pathologist,” Sarita said dreamily. “It’s so much more rewarding than performing postmortems on people who died of heart attacks or cancer. Your extraordinary cases made me realize that I want to solve crimes. These people are beyond my help,” she said, jutting her chin toward the two fresh corpses in the lab. Quinn was grateful they were covered with green hospital sheets and she didn’t have to see their faces.
“I’m sure you’ll excel at it,” Quinn replied, and meant it.
Sarita’s gaze returned to the computer screen when Colin finally walked in.
“Sorry about that,” he said. “Had to finish a call.”
“No worries. Sarita kept me company. So, what have you discovered?”
Colin walked over to the slab where the tiny skeleton lay like a broken doll. “Well, the first thing I have to say is that I don’t agree with Dr. Clegg’s assessment. Any of it. Had this child been dismembered, you’d see stubs of broken bone where the limbs had been severed, but the sockets are perfectly smooth, and empty. This baby was born without limbs, which must have been devastating for the parents.”
“Do you have any theories on why that would happen? Could it have been a genetic defect?”
“I don’t believe so. The child was born roughly fifty years ago, which places it squarely in the thalidomide tragedy era. You’re too young to remember any of this, but toward the end of the 1950s, a new drug had come on the market. It was first introduced in Germany and was used as a sedative; however, it also helped relieve morning sickness and insomnia in expectant mothers, and was prescribed to many pregnant women in the U.K. The most severe side effect of the drug caused a condition called phocomelia, a malformation of arms and legs. Given that this child was born without even a hint of developing limbs, I would hazard to guess that the mother began taking the drug very early in the pregnancy and probably continued taking it for several months.”
“Was this condition fatal?” Quinn asked.
“No. And this baby did not die a natural death, as Dr. Clegg suggested.”
“Are you sure?” Quinn asked.
“Quite. Take a look at this.” He beckoned her to come closer to the tiny skull. “If you look here,” Colin pointed to the nose, “there’s a hairline fracture in the bridge of the nose.”
“Do you think the child had a fall and died as a result?”
“It’s possible, but not likely. I think this child was smothered. Holding a pillow over someone’s face often leads to a broken nose.”
“She was murdered,” Quinn whispered. She hadn’t meant to reveal that she knew the sex of the baby, but she was too upset to notice she’d slipped up until after the words were out of her mouth.
“She?” Colin asked. “Why do you think it was a girl?”
“I don’t. I just felt awkward referring to the baby as it,” Quinn replied, feeling foolish in the extreme. “Were you able to obtain any DNA?” she asked. DNA sequencing would showcase the single nucleotide polymorphism, which would display large chunks of identical DNA if the child had been born to people who were closely related. It would act as tangible proof that Helen and David were indeed brother and sister.
“I’m afraid not. There was no hair left, and the child didn’t have nails and had been too young to start teething. We did find several strands of hair on the shawl. They must have belonged to the owner of the shawl, most likely the child’s mother.”
“Anything?”
“Nothing of interest. I didn’t run the full panel of tests since there’s no way to compare the DNA to that of the child. That shawl could have belonged to anyone.”
“I see. Thank you.”
“Happy to help. How are things with you?” Colin asked as he walked her to the door.
“Everything is okay,” Quinn lied.
Colin answered with a heartbreakingly sad smile. “He’s gone, you know.”
Quinn nodded. “I’m so sorry, Colin.”
“Yes, so am I. I thought maybe this was just a bump in the road. A very large bump, but one we could get over, but I realized that this wasn’t a bad judgment call on Logan’s part; it was his opening salvo. Whether he realized it or not, he wanted out, and this was his way of accomplishing that. He hoped I wouldn’t forgive him and the decision to break up would be mine. I didn’t share this with him—I have my pride, you know—but I’d forgive
him anything.” Colin’s eyes shimmered with tears. “I’ve never loved anyone the way I love Logan.”
“Perhaps you two will be granted a second chance.”
“I think not. We clearly don’t want the same thing, at least not right now, so this appears to be the end of the road for us.”
“Well, if we’re to continue with travel metaphors, please allow me to say that you never know where the road will ultimately lead. I never expected to wind up with Gabe. I took his love and friendship for granted until I almost lost it, and then I realized that I’d loved him all along. I was just too blind to see it. Logan might still come round. He just needs a bit of time to drive down the motorway with the top down and the radio blasting.”
Colin laughed. “You mean, eventually he’ll get a headache and it’ll start to rain?”
“Not quite what I meant, but something like that. At the end of the day, everyone wants comfort and security. Everyone needs a destination. There’s only so long you can barrel along without knowing where you mean to end up.”
“Logan is still in his twenties. From where he’s standing, comfort and security seem more like stagnation—a dead end, you might say.”
Quinn patted Colin on the arm in a gesture of sympathy. Having spoken to Logan, she didn’t think he was coming back, at least not for a while. He needed time to figure out what he really wanted, and she didn’t think Colin would wait that long. She could see the resignation in his eyes and sense his desire to let go. “I’m sorry,” she said again.
“Thank you. Talk soon?”
“Of course,” Quinn replied, and stepped out into the street.
Chapter 39
Jo glanced at her watch as she approached the house. 10:45 a.m. Quinn had mentioned that she had an appointment with Dr. Scott at ten and had invited Jo to come for lunch at twelve, which gave Jo at least an hour alone with Gabe.
The Broken (Echoes from the Past Book 8) Page 19