by Tudor, C. J.
Katie might not have achieved much in her life. But one thing she was proud of was being a good mum. Yes, she had made mistakes. All parents did. But she had always put her children first. Always tried her hardest to give them a happy, secure childhood. To not let history repeat itself.
And now, her mum was doing it again, disrupting Katie’s life, upsetting her children’s lives. She rang Lou’s doorbell. Waited. She could hear the usual commotion inside: Mia crying, Sam shouting, “Mum’s here!,” Gracie singing some song from CBeebies.
The door swung open. “Didn’t think you’d be this long,” Lou said, letting Katie step through.
“Sorry,” Katie said. “Something came up and I had to deal with it.”
“Mum?”
Katie hesitated and then said: “Actually, Fran.”
Lou stared at her. “Fran?”
Katie recounted as quickly as possible what had happened at their mum’s.
Lou’s eyebrows rose higher. “Fran has a daughter?”
“Well, that’s what Mum said.”
“I can’t believe she never told us. I never even understood why she took off to start with. I mean, we all loved Dad. It wasn’t as if she loved him more.”
“Maybe she had her reasons.”
“Maybe.”
Katie rubbed at her temples. She could feel a headache edging in. “Hopefully, she’ll turn up and the police will find the little girl.”
If there is a little girl, she thought.
“Anyway, I’d better get Sam and Gracie back home.”
They walked into the open-plan living room and kitchen. Sam was engrossed in his iPad, Grace and Mia were watching Gigglebiz.
“Hi, everyone,” Katie chirped as cheerily as she could manage. “Time to say goodbye to Auntie Lou.”
“I’ll just grab their stuff.” Lou darted back out into the hall.
Her sister was being unusually organized, Katie thought. She had also brushed her hair and applied a little makeup, she noticed. She wondered why. And then she spotted the jacket slung over the back of one of the kitchen chairs.
Lou reappeared, clutching Sam and Gracie’s bags and coats.
“Where is he?” Katie asked.
“Sorry, who?”
Lou was a terrible liar. She followed Katie’s gaze and her shoulders slumped, her face adopting its usual sulky look.
“I wasn’t supposed to pick your kids up today. I’d already made plans. I couldn’t just cancel. I was doing you a favor.”
Katie opened her mouth to argue but knew that, this time, she was on the back foot.
“You should have told me,” she said. “I just like to know.”
“Know what?”
They turned. Steve stood in the doorway, shirtless, skin glistening with water from the shower. He was muscular and stocky, with a shaven head and tattoos down one arm. As always, his manner was superficially pleasant, but there was something about him that Katie didn’t like. Or maybe it was because she knew the losers Lou normally picked and was always expecting the worst from him.
“Hi, Steve,” she said neutrally.
“All right, Katie.” He smiled, and Katie felt sure that he was enjoying her unease at his semi-naked appearance. He held out a shirt to Lou. “Could you be a darling and stick that in the wash with my jacket?”
“No problem.”
Lou took the shirt and then picked up the jacket from the chair. A high-visibility police officer’s jacket.
“Just off shift?” Katie asked.
“Yeah. Doing a bit of overtime. Got a couple of days off now, though.” Without taking his eyes from hers, he reached over and rubbed Lou’s backside. “Plan to spend it wisely.”
Katie smiled tightly. “Nice. Well, I should get going. Come on, Sam, Gracie. We need to go home. It’s getting late.”
* * *
—
SHE BUNDLED THEM into the car, distracting them with questions about their day, their friends, their lessons, what they had for lunch. All of which were generally greeted with the same responses: “Good.” “Okay.” “Can’t remember.” “I’ve forgotten.” “Can we watch TV when we get home?” “I’m hungry. Have you got any sweets?”
It wasn’t until they were halfway along the high street that Gracie asked, “Why were you late, Mummy?”
Katie smiled at her in the rearview mirror.
“Just bad traffic, sweetheart.”
Once home, she settled the pair of them in the living room and went to make them some bedtime snacks. As she poured milk and arranged biscuits on a plate, she thought about her mother again.
“She was here. Today.”
Okay, her mother had invented dramas before. Worked herself into histrionics, fueled by drink and paranoia. But something about this afternoon’s episode was troubling Katie. She had seemed so certain. And yet it was so implausible. Why would Fran come back after all this time? Did she really have a daughter? It was obvious what the young police officer who had responded to her call had thought.
“I’ll put out a call,” he had said as she walked him to the door. “See if we’ve had any reports of a little girl found wandering on her own. Better safe than sorry, eh?”
Better safe than sorry. Katie got the implication. I think your mother’s probably a nutjob, but I’ll ask a few questions to ease my conscience.
She had nodded. “I understand. Thank you.”
“And if you hear from your sister, could you let us know?”
“Of course.”
She had watched him climb into his car and drive away. From the kitchen she heard the clink of the wine bottle.
She couldn’t blame him, really. Part of her would like to dismiss the whole thing as a figment of her mother’s drunken imagination. But somehow, she couldn’t. And that raised questions:
If Fran had come back, why go to their mother? They had never been close. And if she did have a daughter, why on earth would she leave her and disappear? And where was the little girl?
She put the snacks on the tray and walked back to the living room. Gracie was intent upon Peppa Pig and Sam was spread out across the sofa, watching Spider-Man on his iPad. She hovered for a moment in the doorway, soothed by the sight of them, happy and safe in their cocoon.
Her mobile rang. She reversed, put the tray back down on the kitchen table and picked it up.
“Hello.”
No reply, but Katie could hear breathing.
“Hello?”
“Is that Katie?”
A young girl’s voice, hesitant, nervous.
“Yes. Who is this?”
Another pause. “My name is Alice. Fran told me to call you if I was ever in trouble.”
Alice.
“Where’s Fran?” Katie asked.
“I don’t know. Please, can you help me?”
Katie debated. She peered in at Sam and Gracie. Warm and secure in their cozy home. She couldn’t just leave them here, on their own. Then she thought: what if they were lost, alone and scared, in the dark? She would want someone to help them.
“We have to find her. Before something terrible happens.”
“Okay. Tell me where you are.”
A hotel corridor. Gabe stumbled along it, staring at doors with numbers. It felt as strange and unfamiliar to him as an alien spacecraft. He glanced at the card in his hand: 421. He squinted at the directions on the walls. Right, then left, left again, and he found himself in front of a door bearing the matching number.
For a moment, he couldn’t think what to do with the piece of plastic in his hand. Then it came back to him. He swiped it in the slot by the door handle. There was a buzz. He pushed the door and walked inside.
Gabe fumbled for a switch. Nothing happened. He tried again, felt bemused. Then he remembered. The card. He had t
o put the card in another slot by the door. He stuck it in and the room flooded with light.
He stared around. To most people, this room would probably seem small, basic. To Gabe, it seemed immense. It had been a long time since he’d slept in a proper bedroom. A bedroom with a double bed, a desk, a bathroom. The contrast hit him like a sledgehammer. He had spent so long existing in his small van he’d forgotten what it was like to live like a normal person. The space felt extravagant. As did the cost. Gabe had a reserve of savings from the sale of the house, and his outgoings were minimal. But he couldn’t afford to do this for more than a couple of nights.
He chucked his bag on the bed and took out his painkillers. He walked into the bathroom and filled a plastic glass with water to swill them down. He avoided glancing in the mirror. He’d never liked mirrors and he knew what it would show him. A pale, thin man with greying hair and too many lines for his age. A face carved with lost hopes and regret.
We talk about life like it’s some magical elixir, he thought. Yet life is your own slow crawl along the dead man’s mile. Doesn’t matter how many diversions you take, eventually we’re all heading one way. The only difference is how long the journey takes. He placed his hand on the wound on his side. Tonight, he almost took the fast lane.
He closed the bathroom door and walked back into the bedroom. He sat on the bed, suddenly at a loss. What to do? He flicked idly through the folder telling him about the hotel’s services. TV, free wi-fi, bar/restaurant and something sticky between the final pages. He hastily put it down again.
It took several attempts before he managed to summon a few blurry channels on the TV. He gave up and walked around the room. He looked in the wardrobe—a few hangers fastened to the rail and some extra pillows. He opened the drawers beside the bed. Empty except for a small Bible. He stared at it, thinking about the other Bible. The underlined passages. An eye for an eye. The Other People. He slammed the drawer shut again.
He should be exhausted. And a full-sized bed was a rare luxury. But he had gone past exhaustion. He felt alert, wired.
He thought about the hotel services. Bar/restaurant. He probably wasn’t supposed to drink, after the blood loss and on top of all the painkillers. But he was marooned in a strange hotel, with no purpose, no food and nothing better to do.
He picked up his card key, grabbed his phone and wandered downstairs to the bar.
* * *
—
HE ORDERED A glass of red wine and took it to a quiet table in a corner. From speakers somewhere above him, Neil Diamond crooned about “Sweet Caroline.” This was after Phil Collins had opined that she was “an easy lover,” following on from Lionel Richie saying “Hello.” He was pretty sure that somewhere along the line Robbie Williams would be declaring his love for “Angels.” Which was somewhat ironic on a playlist obviously forged in hell. Bar music, Gabe thought—music for people too drunk to get away from it.
He sipped at the wine. It tasted a bit sour. He wasn’t sure if that was a reflection on the quality of the bottle or just the fact that he hadn’t drunk wine in a long while. He and Jenny always used to crack open a bottle—or sometimes two—in the evening. They would sit around the breakfast bar and talk to each other about their days over the rims of their glasses. At least, they used to. Later, he would end up drinking alone with his reheated dinner after Izzy had gone to bed and Jenny had retreated to the snug with a book.
And yet, he really wished Jenny was here. The thought slunk in out of nowhere like a stray cat. And once settled in his mind, it refused to move. He remembered her arms around him, the citrusy smell of her hair. Her warm breath on his face as she told him that it would be okay.
It had been a long time since Gabe had been comforted by anyone. Touched by anyone. Gabe tried not to think about it too much. But, sometimes, it got to him. He yearned to be part of a couple again. To have a female body next to his at night. To share secret smiles, kisses, jokes. Even if, for a long while, the communication between himself and Jenny had been more in the way of stone-cold silences. He even missed that.
You don’t need another person to make your life complete. But life, like a jigsaw with missing pieces, is hard to complete on your own. And there endeth the drunken philosophy for the evening. His phone started to ring.
“Hello?”
“Gabriel?”
A woman’s voice. No one else called him Gabriel.
“DI Maddock?”
“Can you talk? Is this a bad time?”
“Yes. I mean no, I can talk.”
“Where are you?”
“A hotel.”
“No van?”
“Not tonight.”
“Okay. Which hotel?”
“Erm, Holiday Inn, off Junction 18. In the bar.”
“Okay. I’ll be there in about half an hour.”
“Why? I mean, I didn’t expect to hear from you again so soon.”
“There’s been a development.”
“What sort of development?”
“I’ll tell you when I get there.”
“Can’t you just tell me on the phone?”
“No.” A pause. “You need to see this.”
Katie pulled up near the park. She felt nervous and guilty. She had never left Sam and Gracie on their own at home before. Christ. She could be reported to the police. She had locked the door but left Sam a key. In her sternest voice she had told him not to open the door to anyone but her. She would be half an hour, tops.
He had rolled his eyes. “I’m not an idiot.”
“I know. You’re very grown-up, which is why I’m trusting you like this.”
“Where are you going, Mummy?” Gracie had asked, hovering at the living-room door.
“I just have to help a little girl who is in trouble.”
“Why?”
“She’s your cousin, and she’s lost, and I have to bring her back here.”
“We have another cousin? What’s her name?”
“Alice. Now, I’ll make hot chocolate for everyone when I get back. Okay?”
“Yay! Hot chocolate!”
The park was only a ten-minute drive away. Katie knew it well. She had played there herself as a child and even taken Sam and Gracie once or twice. But this evening it looked smaller and more run-down than she remembered. The street felt narrow and gloomy; several of the streetlights were broken.
Still, the girl had been clever. The school was just up the road and parents would often bring their children here to let off steam on the way home. Of course, at seven thirty, all the other children had gone—back to nice, warm houses with families that loved them. Or so Katie liked to think. Perhaps that wasn’t true. Perhaps some went back to homes where their parents argued and threw things, or to homes where Dad was busy, and Mum didn’t care, and they were left to fend for themselves. It was easy to imagine that other people had the fairy tale, but the truth was the shiny front doors, hanging baskets and neatly mown lawns didn’t tell the whole story.
She locked the car and looked around. No sign of anyone; even the small bungalows that lined the road looked quiet and empty, only the faintest slivers of light through pulled curtains. She shivered.
What are you doing here, Katie? You should be home, with your own children. Let the police deal with this.
She zipped up her jacket and shoved the thoughts away. Whatever was going on, a little girl was in trouble, and if either of her children were ever alone and scared, then she hoped someone would help them. It was something their dad had always said to them: If not you, then who?
She entered the park and walked along a pathway that ran past a small pond. The playground was on her left. It looked deserted. She took out her phone and pulled up the most recent number. She pressed call. Distantly, she heard the sound of another phone ringing. She waited and then a small figure emerged from t
he shadows beneath the climbing frame.
“Alice?”
The girl hovered uncertainly. She was very slight, dressed in jeans, Uggs and a dark hoodie. In one hand, she clutched a small pink rucksack decorated with purple flowers. Katie’s heart constricted. She looked so young, so vulnerable.
“Are you Katie?”
Katie nodded. “Yes, I’m your—” She hesitated. “Aunt” sounded odd when they had only just met. “I’m your mum’s sister.”
The girl looked down, her face cast into more shadows. “Fra—…Mum told me, if something ever happened, that I should call you. That you would do the right thing.”
“Where is your mum, Alice?”
“I— I don’t know.”
“Is she in some kind of trouble?”
Alice nodded then jumped at a rustle of bushes from the right. Katie jumped, too, squinting into the semi-darkness. The girl’s twitchiness was contagious. Probably just a bird or the wind. Still, Katie realized that she didn’t really want to hang around here in the deserted park any longer.
“C’mon,” she said. “It’s getting late.”
Alice walked slowly out of the playground, clutching her bag like a shield, small shoulders hunched. She stopped a short distance from Katie. When children are scared, Katie thought, they bundle up like hedgehogs, all tightly bound, spikes out. But at some point, especially when they are tired and hungry, they have to let it go.
“Have you eaten?” she asked.
Alice shook her head.
“D’you like cheese on toast?”
A tentative nod.
“So do my children.”
“You have children?”
“Yep. Sam’s ten, Gracie is five. They like cheese on toast with brown sauce. What about you?”