The Babysitter

by Phoebe Morgan

  DS Bolton: Mrs Grant, would you say you and Caroline Harvey had remained close since university?

  JG: [pause] No. No, not really, not the whole way through. We’ve been closer recently, in the last few years. She – she’d told me about Callum. I thought of him straight away. He wasn’t very nice to her, I don’t think – something happened between them, something bad. They’d stopped seeing each other a few weeks ago, she said, but it was obvious he still had a hold on her. I’m worried she might have called him, that he came over and lost his temper. [presses a hand to her mouth]

  DS Wildy: When you say something bad happened between them, what do you mean?

  JG: I don’t know. I really don’t. I never found out, but I know there was something, a reason she stopped seeing him in the first place. She was angry with him.

  DS Wildy: Why did you choose Caroline to look after your daughter?

  JG: Like I said, there was no one else at the time, that first night, when Margaret was taken ill. And when we got home Eve was fine, she was sleeping, she was completely fine. I don’t understand how any of this happened.

  DS Wildy: Let’s return to the night in question, then, August 10th. You took Eve over to Caroline’s flat this time, didn’t you? Where previously she’d been in your house.

  JG: Yes. Yes. I would have preferred Caroline to come to ours because that’s where all Eve’s stuff is, you know, her cot, her things, but I’d already put Caro out on the night of the heart attack; I didn’t want to be selfish. I was so grateful that she was helping us. Rick was – Rick was very upset about his mother. [pause] It was stressful. I wanted to make things easier for us all.

  DS Bolton: And what time did you take your daughter over to Caroline’s flat? For the benefit of the tape, this is location A, 43 Woodmill Road, Ipswich.

  JG: It was about 6 p.m.

  DS Wildy: And how did Caroline seem when you took Eve to her?

  JG: She seemed fine. She was really happy to see us; I remember thinking she was so natural with Eve. [pause] I thought, she’ll make a great mother some day. Sorry – I just, I just need a moment. [long pause]. I can’t think straight, Detective, my mind is – it’s all over the place. All I can think about is Eve, I can’t really – I’m not really thinking about Caroline. I know that sounds awful but she’s my baby, my only girl. I need her back. [pause, crying].

  DS Wildy: Take your time.

  JG: [takes a deep breath] Sorry. I’m OK now. Caroline seemed fine. I’d brought Eve’s travel cot, we set it up in the bedroom when I arrived—

  DS Bolton: In Caroline Harvey’s bedroom?

  JG: Yes. It’s a tiny flat. There wasn’t anywhere else.

  DS Wildy: Please continue, Mrs Grant. You set up the cot. Was Eve sleeping when you dropped her off?

  JG: No, she was awake. She’s often awake until about seven, that’s when I normally put her down. That’s the right time, that’s what all the books say to do.

  DS Wildy: We’re not disputing that, Mrs Grant. Please don’t worry. So, you left Eve with Caroline. What time did you leave the premises to go to the hospital?

  JG: I stayed for about twenty minutes, I think, just running through everything with Caroline, you know, everything Eve might need. I left her some formula, we put it in the fridge. And a change of clothes – I’d been changing her clothes a couple of times in the night, recently, because it’s been so hot. She would get very hot in her cot; we’d started keeping the window open.

  DS Bolton: Did you run through all of the details with Caroline on the night of the heart attack, a few nights before, the first time you left Eve in her care?

  JG: [pause] No. No, I didn’t. There wasn’t any time. I did text her from the hospital. I told her where everything was then. But I was rushing out the door, the hospital had said Margaret might be about to die. Rick was distraught. He’s very close to his mother. [pause] He always has been.

  DS Bolton: So you left Caroline Harvey’s flat at around twenty past six on the evening of August 10th. And you went to the Norfolk and Norwich hospital.

  JG: Yes.

  DS Wildy: And where was your husband during this time?

  JG: He was already at the hospital with his mother. He’d barely left her bedside since the heart attack. Like I said, they’re really close.

  DS Bolton: So would you say it had been difficult for you, for those past few days, looking after Eve alone whilst your husband was with his mother?

  JG: No, I would not. I’m her mother. I didn’t find it difficult. Why are you even saying that, what are you suggesting?

  DS Wildy: And what time did you leave the hospital to come back to collect your daughter from Caroline Harvey’s flat?

  JG: It was just after ten. We’d stayed at the hospital until visiting hours stopped – Rick wanted to. Then we both drove back. I dropped Rick at home and then I went to get Eve.

  DS Bolton: Why did you drop your husband off first?

  JG: [pause] He was exhausted and upset. I knew he wanted to be at home. So I said I’d go get Eve. I was worried I’d end up talking to Caroline for a while, and that it would get late. I wanted Rick to be able to relax and go to bed. He’d had a really long day. We both had, I suppose.

  DS Bolton: And can you tell us what happened when you arrived at Ms Harvey’s flat?

  JG: [pause]

  DS Wildy: We understand this is difficult to think about, Mrs Grant. But it’s important, for your daughter’s sake, that you are as detailed as possible in your recollection. Any small detail could be crucial to our investigation at this stage.

  JG: I – I took the lift up to her flat. She’s on the fifth floor, at the end of a long corridor. As I walked down the corridor, I could see that her front door was open, just a bit, and I was confused. I worried that I must have left it open, when I left for the hospital, and that Caro hadn’t noticed. I reached the door and knocked on it quickly, then pushed it open and went inside. I didn’t think she’d mind, you know, I was calling out to her, hello, it’s me. I thought she’d be expecting me because I’d texted her when I left the hospital, just to say I was on my way back. I asked her if she needed anything from the shops. I wanted to say thank you to her, for looking after Eve twice in one week.

  DS Wildy: Did she reply to your message saying that you were on your way?

  JG: No. No, I told DS Bolton yesterday that she didn’t.

  DS Bolton: What time was the message sent? Remind us, if you could.

  JG: It was about ten past ten, I think. I said I was dropping Rick home and then I’d be straight over. I offered to get her a bottle of wine as a thank you. Asked if she needed any milk, that sort of thing. I felt guilty for being quite a long time, and I wanted to make it up to her, make sure she knew I was grateful. Eve isn’t always an easy baby.

  DS Bolton: What do you mean by that?

  JG: Nothing out of the ordinary – just that she’s a baby, Detective. She’s one and a half – she cries sometimes – well, she cries a lot, she can be tricky to put down to sleep. That sort of thing. I just – I just didn’t want Caroline to think I was taking advantage. I got the impression that she sometimes felt – I don’t know – different to Rick and I. I didn’t want her to think we were just using the fact that she was single and didn’t have any other ties, you know, getting her to babysit for nothing.

  DS Bolton: So you didn’t pay Caroline for babysitting?

  JG: I – no. I offered to, but she’s a friend. Was a friend. It would have been odd for me to give her money. Why does this even matter?

  DS Wildy: What happened when you walked into Caroline’s flat, Mrs Grant? Can you tell us about that?

  JG: At first I couldn’t see her. It was really quiet, and I felt myself begin to panic because the whole flat just had such a strange air about it, you know. I thought I could smell cleaning fluid, something chemical. [pause] Sorry, sorry. I’m OK.

  DS Wildy: Take a deep breath, if you can.

  JG: I went into the kitchen, to see where Car
oline was, and she – she wasn’t in there. She was gone.

  DS Wildy: What happened next?

  JG: I ran into the bedroom – it’s a tiny flat, very small, but I had to check. I thought Caroline might have had to go out, an emergency or something, and that she’d taken Eve with her so as not to leave her alone. I wouldn’t have minded, you know, as long as she was safe, as long as she had her. But in the bedroom – I found – [pause] the cot with…with…

  DS Wildy: Do you think you’re able to continue?

  JG: [silence, sobbing]

  DS Bolton: Interview paused at 10.45.

  Chapter Seven

  France

  13th August: The day of the arrest

  Siobhan

  The morning they come for him, there isn’t any time for Callum to pack. The French police stand at our door, looking horribly out of place in the hot sun, their dark uniforms a stark contrast against the bright blue of the sky and the deep pink roses that climb up along the door frame. They must be hot, I think stupidly. Maria speaks to them in rapid French as Callum and I stand there, dumb, and I feel a stab of jealousy at how cleverly my sister can interpret their words. Emma has for once followed my instructions to remain downstairs, or so I think, but as Maria invites the police inside, I see the flash of her blonde hair disappear out of sight, proof that she has in fact been listening in. I reassure myself that she can no more understand the French than I can.

  ‘Callum, they want to take you back to the UK,’ Maria says to him, her words quick and urgent as the police look on. I try to meet the policewoman’s eyes, but they gaze past me, flat and deadened in her face. I wonder what she thinks of us – the half-dressed English tourists linked to a dead woman back at home.

  ‘I’ve done nothing to Caroline, what’s happened to her?’ Callum is saying, over and over. His eyes are welling up, tears threatening to spill over, but the police officers ignore him. I stare at him, wondering how real his reaction is. Crocodile tears, or the real emotion of a grieving lover? How much did this woman mean to him that he’s prepared to risk admitting their affair? Or is he playing us all for fools?

  ‘Suivez-nous,’ the man says, and Callum swallows, looks at me, his face suddenly like that of a little boy. ‘Come with us.’ I stare back at him, feeling sick with dread.

  ‘You’d better go with them,’ Maria says, ‘they can handcuff you otherwise. This way, you’re cooperating.’

  All at once, I am immeasurably grateful that she is here, taking control – she speaks again to the police and they nod, apparently satisfied.

  ‘Get him some clothes, S,’ Maria says, and I run into our bedroom, where Callum’s clothes are scattered across our unmade bed and a little on the floor on his side. He has always had bad habits when it comes to tidiness; I scoop up the clothes he was wearing yesterday, shorts and a white shirt that still has a splash of aloe vera aftersun lotion on the collar. His shoes, brown loafers, are discarded by the wardrobe and I grab those too, hurrying back into the hallway where the little group stand waiting.

  ‘Siobhan—’ Callum says to me as I hand them to him, my hands beginning to violently shake, ‘I didn’t have anything to do with this, I mean—’ he swallows, ‘I know Caroline, I do, but I didn’t hurt her. I’d never hurt anyone! I know you’ll be angry but please, Siobhan, you have to believe me.’

  I look up at him, and in that second, I feel as though I don’t know him at all.

  ‘Allez, vite,’ the policewoman says, her accent thick, and Callum struggles into the clothing, in front of us all, pulling the shorts up over his boxers. The police avert their eyes. I stare at Maria, willing her to tell me that this is all a joke, an elaborate trick designed to unnerve us – for what purpose, I don’t know. But she doesn’t. She doesn’t say anything at all. I wonder if she is embarrassed, by my family coming to her beautiful house and causing all this upset. Shame curdles in my stomach.

  ‘Emma,’ Callum says to me, and I step forward, place a hand on his, grip onto him as tightly as I can.

  ‘We’ll come home,’ I say, ‘we’ll get the next flight. I’ll speak to Emma. Don’t worry, Cal. Just do what they say, for now at least.’

  ‘I’m sorry,’ he says, ‘I’m sorry.’ His eyes look desperate, hunted, but is it all an act?

  For a moment or two, I feel the younger of the two police officers look at me, but I avoid their gaze. I don’t want anyone looking too closely.

  ‘Can I pack my things?’ he says to Maria, and she translates quickly, before shaking her head and wincing.

  ‘They want everything left as is,’ she says, ‘for now, anyway. But you need your passport.’ Carefully, she reaches out a hand and touches my husband’s shoulder. I watch as she gives it a squeeze, so tight that it almost looks painful. The male police officer says something else, and Callum looks around, grabs his iPhone from where it sits on charge on the top of the bookshelf near the door. He hesitates, the phone in his palm, before giving it over to the policeman without complaint. Maria raises her eyebrows at me and I run back into our bedroom, fumble for Callum’s passport, which is sitting nestled on top of mine in the drawer where I’ve put my underwear. My fingers are shaking as I bring it back to the hallway, hand it to my husband. The policeman takes it from his grasp.

  ‘Things will be easier in England,’ says Maria, and I watch in horror as Callum steps towards me, kissing me and whispering that this is all nonsense, lies and rubbish, that it will all be sorted in no time at all, that I am to tell Emma not to worry. He smells stale, of our twisted up sheets and of the sun. I stare at him, uncomprehending, and then he is walking away and the police are smiling grimly at Maria as she says something else that I don’t understand, and then the front door is closing behind the three of them and the bright patch of sunlight is shut out, gone.

  For a moment or two, my sister and I stand in silence in the darkened hallway. The main shutters that cover the huge sliding doors are still closed, none of us had got round to opening them yet. We had all slept in. I think of the bright red numbers on the alarm clock next to my bed – it feels like a lifetime ago now that the doorbell first rang, although in reality – I glance at my watch – it has only been twenty-six minutes.

  ‘Do you know who she is? Caroline Harvey? Callum obviously does,’ Maria asks me bluntly, and as I watch her mouth move, I feel the bare flagged stones of the hallway rise up to meet me, feel the world swimming in front of my eyes.

  ‘Put your head between your legs, S,’ Maria says, and her hand is on my lower back, guiding me gently towards the sofa in the large open-plan living room. The soft padding is comforting, and I sink down, Maria’s reassuring voice in my ear, rubbing my back as she sits down next to me, telling me that it’s all OK, that it’s all going to be OK.

  But it isn’t, I want to scream, it isn’t.

  Outside, there is a loud splash, and despite my dizziness, I lift my head. Maria is swearing, running to the doors. Emma has jumped into the swimming pool.

  I sit on the large double bed, the windows to our bedroom still closed against the sun. Callum’s belongings are scattered around me – his wallet, his keys for our house in Ipswich. What will he do without them, I wonder, then realise there probably isn’t much call for shopping inside a police station and that they’re not likely to let him go home first anyway. Maria is on hold to the airline whilst she sits at the table, trying to book us all onto the next flight back home. None of us want to stay here – how can we, when this has happened?

  Getting up, I pull back the shutters on the bedroom window and see Emma emerge from the pool at last, dripping wet. Hurriedly, I rush out, bringing her a thick, fluffy towel to the side of the water.

  ‘I wanted to feel something,’ she says, by way of explanation, and I nod as though I understand.

  ‘Dad is going to be fine,’ I tell her, watching as she dries herself off. I bite the inside of my mouth to try to calm my anxiety, and taste the rusty tang of blood.

  ‘It’s a misunderstan
ding,’ I say, ‘but we’re going to go home and sort things out, straight away, OK, Ems?’

  She stares at me; her blue eyes look huge in her face. She has Callum’s eyes.

  ‘Who is she?’ she asks me. ‘Who is the woman they’re talking about, Mum?’

  I hadn’t realised she’d heard.

  Chapter Eight

  Ipswich

  3rd August: One week before

  Caroline

  ‘Caro? We’re home!’

  Jenny’s voice startles me. They’re home from the hospital. Quickly, I back out of baby Eve’s bedroom and close the door behind me, leaving her sleeping in the warm little room. The blue and white mobile spins as I shut the door, fluttering above her head like a bird.

  I slip my phone back into my pocket and go to greet them, pasting a smile on my face even though that horrible text message is still burning in my mind. Don’t take what isn’t yours. They must mean Callum, mustn’t they? I was hardly about to take little Eve! But then, who knows about the two of us, apart from Jenny?

  ‘Hi,’ I say, ‘hi. How is she, how’s your mum?’

  Rick sighs. He looks shattered; the pair of them do, but he especially. His face is strained, as though he might’ve been crying. It’s funny, you don’t often see grown men cry, but he and his mum are close. Jenny’s told me enough times. He runs a hand through his hair, bends down to start untying his shoes.

  ‘She’s stable,’ he says, ‘they’re keeping her in for at least a few nights, maybe more, they said. I’ll go back first thing in the morning. Christ, I’m knackered.’

  ‘Is Eve all right?’ Jenny asks me, bustling past me before I can even answer. She goes into the bedroom, and I hear her murmuring gently to her daughter.

  ‘Of course she is,’ I say, ‘she slept the whole time. No trouble at all.’

  ‘Thank you so much, Caro,’ Jenny says, reappearing in the hallway, putting a hand on my arm. ‘We really appreciate it. God, I don’t know what we’d have done if you weren’t here! She’d have screamed the place down if we’d woken her up. They probably wouldn’t have let her into the ward.’