Taken

by Lisa Stone

  Kelsey’s eyes filled and she squeezed her daughter’s hand. ‘I’m so sorry.’

  ‘Running away was like a game to begin with,’ Leila continued. ‘Colin told me not to take anything from here because he would buy me new clothes. I’d never had new things before, so I was happy. But the first night I was at his flat I realized I didn’t have Buttons, so we came back here to get him.’

  ‘I thought I heard you,’ Kelsey said.

  ‘Did you? You seemed to be asleep. It was funny then, the two of us in the middle of the night creeping into the flat. You were snoring and I laughed. Colin told me to be quiet. I got Buttons and we left. But the next day Colin went to work and locked me in the bedroom in his flat. It was then I started to get scared. I didn’t like being locked in and I had to use a potty like a baby. He threatened to tie me up and gag me if I made a noise.’

  ‘Did he touch you …?’ Kelsey began but had to stop and try again. ‘Did he touch your privates?’

  ‘No. But he slapped me and shouted a lot, and he was really scary if I didn’t do as he said or if I didn’t like the food or the clothes he bought. He wasn’t at all like the person I knew from before, and I wanted to come home. I could hear you being hurt and crying in here and I told him you needed help, but he wouldn’t let me come. He said you could take care of yourself and you didn’t really want me anyway. Which I sort of knew.’

  ‘That’s not true!’ Kelsey cried, upset. ‘I did want you, but I was a mess.’

  ‘I know that, and from now on I’m going to help you, so I can stay here.’

  Kelsey didn’t say what she was thinking – that it wasn’t possible for her to stay as the social services had a care order. For now, she needed to hear Leila’s story, and waited for her to continue.

  ‘Colin gave me new clothes so I wouldn’t be recognized and threw away my old ones. He took me in his car to Granny Goodman’s cottage. It was horrible – freezing cold, and there was no television. I don’t think he liked being there either. He moaned a lot and got more angry. He cut my hair so he could take me out. All the time I was looking for a way to run off, but I knew he would catch me. Then one day he left me in the cottage by myself and I knew that was my chance. I took some of his money – he had loads in a carrier bag – and I forced open a window and climbed out. There was thick fog and I could hardly see anything, but I walked all the way along the lane. It was scary but not as scary as staying with him. I knew the way the lane bent from seeing it when he took me out in the car. Eventually I came to the village and found a bus stop. I had money to pay, but when I got on the bus the driver asked where my mummy was and I said I was meeting her in town. When we arrived I’d no idea where I was and it was dark and cold. I knew I needed to find somewhere warm to sleep. I had plenty of money, but I knew I couldn’t book into a hotel by myself. Then I saw a woman sleeping rough in a shop doorway and I asked her if she would like to go to a hotel for the night. She thought I was joking to begin with, until I showed her the money. She found us a cheap hotel and spoke to the receptionist and signed us in.’

  Kelsey looked at her daughter with admiration. ‘That was good thinking.’

  Leila smiled. ‘It was lovely and warm, Mum, not like the cottage, and Misha was nice. We had a bed each. She told me she was eighteen and used to work in a hotel but had lost her job and ended up sleeping on the streets. There was a phone in the room and she used it to call home. I thought about calling you, but I wasn’t sure you wanted to hear from me. I was still thinking Colin was right when he said you didn’t want me, and I thought you’d be angry if I got in touch.’

  ‘Oh, love, I’m so sorry you should think that.’ Kelsey’s eyes filled again, and she held her daughter close.

  ‘Misha and I stayed there for two weeks.’

  ‘You were there all this time?’ Kelsey asked incredulously.

  Leila nodded. ‘Misha was kind to me. We talked a lot. She was lovely and I told her about what had happened to me. She said I should come back home to you and tell you about Colin, because he was a bad man and the police needed to know, as he might come after me.’

  ‘He can’t come after you – he’s in prison now,’ Kelsey reassured her.

  ‘Good. Misha finally got another job in a hotel that was fifty miles away, so we had to say goodbye and leave.’

  ‘So then where have you been since then?’ Kelsey asked, amazed.

  ‘Trying to get back here. I thought about what Misha said and I decided Colin had been wrong and you did love me. And anyway, you are my only mummy and I wanted to be with you. I knew the cottage was a long way from here, but I began getting on buses, trying to find my way back. I used those maps at the bus stops and asked people if I didn’t know. I kept my hoody up so people couldn’t see my face very well. I had to be careful and I couldn’t stay on the same bus for long just in case. I always got on with an adult and chose a bus that was crowded so no one noticed me. Then at night I found a homeless woman and asked her if she would like to book us into a hotel. They always said yes when I showed them I could pay. They were nice apart from one who got very drunk. I cleared off early in the morning while she was still asleep and left her to pay the bill.’

  Kelsey laughed.

  ‘Some of them wanted to talk and tell me why they were on the streets and others just wanted to shower and sleep. I never told anyone else about Colin and just said I was twelve and had run away but I was going home.’

  Kelsey looked at her daughter, impressed by her resourcefulness. ‘You did well. When did you get back to Coleshaw?’

  ‘Late last night, Christmas Day, but there weren’t many people out. I guess they were all at home having a nice Christmas. I was excited coming back and a bit nervous. I was careful no one saw me. I still had my front door key. I kept it safe. But when I let myself in and found you’d been drinking again I was very sad. I thought things might be different, like you’d learnt your lesson, but it seemed nothing had changed. I cleared up and went to bed.’

  ‘I’m sorry you found me like that, but I have changed, honestly,’ Kelsey said, taking her daughter’s hand. ‘Last night was a mistake, a relapse. I’ve been off the booze and drugs for weeks. I drank last night to try to forget.’

  ‘Forget me?’ Leila asked.

  ‘No. Not you, love. The pain of losing you. I thought you were dead. I’m sorry I was such a shit mother. Can you ever forgive me?’

  ‘Yes, I can, and I’m sorry I wasn’t a better daughter. I should have helped you more. We can work together now so I can stay here.’

  Kelsey looked at her daughter. There was no easy way to say this.

  ‘There’s something you need to know,’ she said quietly, her voice faltering. ‘Peter, our social worker, took out a care order when he thought you’d run away. It still applies. You’re going to have to live with Aunty Sharon for now.’

  ‘But I don’t want to live with her! I want to stay with you.’

  ‘I know, and I want you here too, but it’s not possible right away – the court has decided. And it’s better you go to Aunty Sharon than a foster carer you don’t know or a children’s home. We’ll be able to see each other whenever we want. She promised.’

  ‘Will you try to get me back so I can live here?’

  ‘Yes, of course.’

  ‘And we don’t have to tell Peter I’m home straight away, do we?’

  ‘I suppose not,’ Kelsey agreed.

  ‘So we can spend a few days together, just the two of us, like a proper mother and daughter.’

  Kelsey’s eyes filled again. ‘Yes, love, we can. But stay out of sight. If anyone finds you here, I’ll be in big trouble.’

  ‘I’ll hide if anyone comes. I’m good at hiding.’ Throwing her arms around her mother, she hugged her for all she was worth.

  THIRTY-SIX

  Sharon was watching the news.

  ‘In an astonishing turn of events, schoolgirl Leila Smith, missing since the thirteenth of November and presumed dead, has bee
n found alive and well at the home of her mother,’ the news reporter said, looking earnestly into the camera. She was giving her report standing in front of the block of flats where Kelsey lived. ‘The exact details of Leila’s miraculous return are as yet unclear, but she was taken from her mother’s flat by two social workers earlier today. Mrs Kelsey Smith left with police officers a few minutes later to be questioned, it is understood, about the disappearance of her daughter.’

  The camera panned to the entrance to the flats where other reporters and a group of onlookers were waiting. ‘It’s over six weeks since eight-year-old Leila disappeared without trace, sparking a nationwide hunt,’ the reporter continued. ‘The obvious question now is: where has she been all that time? Mr Colin Weaver, who lives in the flat directly below Leila and her mother, was charged with Leila’s abduction and murder. Clearly the murder charge will have to be dropped now, but what was his involvement in Leila’s disappearance, if any? Could it be that the police made a dreadful mistake and he is completely innocent? Leila’s aunt, who is close to the family, was unavailable for comment, but a neighbour and friend of Kelsey Smith’s said she wouldn’t be surprised if Mrs Smith had been hiding Leila all along.

  ‘Is that really possible? That for six weeks, while police forces across the UK were looking for Leila, she was in fact living in the flat you can see behind me all along?’

  ‘No, of course she wasn’t, you stupid woman!’ Sharon said angrily and switched off the television. They should get their facts right. The police searched Kelsey’s flat and had been there countless times since, as had she. Leila wasn’t there. She was abducted by Colin Weaver just as the police said. OK, he didn’t murder her, but he was still the one who took her.

  Sharon went through to the kitchen and poured herself a large gin and tonic to steady her nerves. It had been a long, gruelling day and it wasn’t over yet. Around three o’clock that afternoon, Peter Harris had unexpectedly phoned with the news that Leila had been found at her mother’s home. Sharon had been too shocked to speak. Apparently Kelsey had called him at ten-thirty that morning, saying Leila had just turned up. He’d gone to Kelsey’s flat with a colleague and the police. He said Leila appeared to be physically unharmed, but she would need to have a medical, and then he would bring her to Sharon’s. He’d said that, as yet, he didn’t know any more about what had happened to Leila. He’d tried talking to her but she was too traumatized to say anything other than Colin Weaver had taken her. He’d told Sharon she shouldn’t press Leila for details. It could take weeks, months, even years before she was able to talk about her abduction. However, if Leila did disclose anything, Sharon should write it down and tell him.

  Now at five o’clock Sharon was anxiously waiting for Peter Harris and Leila to arrive. Coleshaw was over an hour’s drive from her house – Leila’s new home.

  Sharon refilled her glass and wandered into what would shortly be Leila’s bedroom. Peter had been impressed when he’d first seen it – freshly decorated and well equipped. ‘Just like a child’s bedroom should be,’ he’d said. This would be a new start for them both. Leila would quickly see how much her life had improved and would love her as she’d never loved her own mother. Kelsey hadn’t appreciated the gift of children – but Sharon would.

  The doorbell rang, jolting Sharon from her thoughts. She quickly downed the last of her gin and tonic and, leaving the glass out of sight in the kitchen, went to answer the front door. Leila was standing between two social workers.

  ‘Hello, love,’ she said, smiling. The child scowled back.

  ‘This is my colleague, Rana Philips,’ Peter said, introducing the woman standing next to him.

  Sharon forced a smile and stood aside to let them in. She hadn’t expected Peter to bring another social worker with him. He hadn’t mentioned it when he’d phoned and had come alone on his previous visits. Rana offered her hand for shaking and Sharon felt obliged to take it. She was a large woman with a firm handshake, someone with presence who wouldn’t be bullshitted, Sharon thought. Unlike Peter Harris, who Sharon had eating out of her hand. He was so grateful to her for taking Leila, it was embarrassing.

  ‘Come through,’ Sharon said, leading the way into her immaculate off-white living room. ‘Would you like a coffee or a tea?’

  ‘No, thank you.’ Both social workers declined.

  ‘I want a drink,’ Leila demanded, flopping into the armchair that Sharon usually sat in.

  ‘Of course you do,’ Sharon said sweetly. ‘What would you like? Water, juice or milk?’

  ‘Cola or Fanta,’ Leila replied, drawing her feet, shoes still on, onto the cream chair.

  ‘I don’t have fizzy drinks, I’m afraid,’ Sharon said patiently. ‘I thought they were bad for children.’

  ‘All things in moderation,’ Rana said, which seemed to suggest she was siding with Leila.

  ‘I have fizzy drinks at my mum’s,’ Leila added, pulling a face.

  ‘I’ll get you a juice,’ Sharon said brightly, swallowing what she really wanted to say.

  She went into the kitchen and poured a glass of juice. Returning to the living room, she positioned it on a coaster on the coffee table just in front of Leila, then brought in a dining chair to sit on.

  ‘Well, here you are at last,’ she enthused. Leila continued to scowl as she drank some of the juice.

  ‘It’s bound to take her a while to settle in,’ Rana said.

  Sharon smiled and nodded.

  ‘So, a few formalities,’ Peter said, taking a wodge of papers from his briefcase. ‘Here is a copy of the Essential Information Forms.’ He passed her the set of printed forms. ‘You can read them later, although I expect you’ll know most of it already, as you’re a relative.’

  Sharon nodded and put the papers to one side. Rana was looking around, scrutinizing the room. Sharon thought she’d be impressed.

  ‘You need to sign this form,’ Peter said, holding out a pen and another form. ‘It gives you the right to foster Leila. I’ll leave a copy here.’ Sharon signed the form and handed it back.

  ‘Will Leila be allowed to play in this room?’ Rana asked.

  The short answer was no, but Sharon knew that wasn’t what they wanted to hear. ‘She has a gorgeous bedroom that Peter has already seen,’ she replied.

  ‘It’s nice for children to have some of their toys in the family’s main living room,’ Rana said. ‘It gives them a sense of belonging – of being part of the family.’

  ‘Yes, of course,’ Sharon said, bristling at being told what to do in her own home.

  ‘Leila hasn’t come with any toys or clothes from home,’ Peter said. ‘I’ll ask Kelsey if she can let you have some.’

  ‘No need,’ Sharon replied. ‘There was never much there. I’ve bought Leila clothes as well as some toys, books and games.’

  ‘But it’s nice for the child to have some of their own belongings,’ Rana said. ‘It’s reassuring for them to have something familiar when everything else in their life is unfamiliar. The smell of a washing powder, for example, can be a poignant reminder of their home and the loved ones they miss.’

  Sharon set her expression to convivial and swallowed the retort biting at her tongue. She would have thought that the fewer reminders Leila had of home, the better.

  ‘Your foster carer payments should start next week,’ Peter continued, going through a checklist of matters he needed to raise.

  ‘You get paid for looking after me?’ Leila asked, surprised, her juice slopping onto the coffee table as she set down the glass.

  Sharon gave a small nod and wondered why the social worker needed to bring this up now in front of Leila. Life was going to be difficult enough without Leila resenting her for being paid to look after her.

  ‘My mum didn’t get paid for looking after me,’ Leila said. ‘And we needed money badly, more than you do.’

  Rana smiled knowingly at Sharon. ‘It’s an inconsistency many of our older children in care pick up on,’ she said.

>   ‘Really?’ Sharon replied, unable to keep the edge from her voice. ‘If her mother hadn’t had a drink-and-drug problem, they’d have had money. I’m guessing it’s the same for many of the children in care.’ She knew immediately it was the wrong thing to say. Peter had looked up from his paperwork.

  ‘We mustn’t demonize the parents,’ Rana said patronizingly. ‘Children in care need to maintain a positive image of their birth families.’

  Sharon nodded and felt Leila’s gaze bore into her as if she’d just scored a point and Sharon had failed the first test.

  ‘Contact,’ Peter continued, glancing at his notes. ‘I understand from Kelsey that you and she have already discussed Leila seeing her mother. If you are both happy to make your own arrangements, that’s fine with me.’

  ‘Good,’ Sharon said. ‘We are.’

  ‘How often can I see my mummy?’ Leila asked.

  ‘I would suggest three times a week to begin with,’ Peter replied. ‘And phone contact on the days they don’t see each other.’

  ‘That’s a lot, isn’t it?’ Sharon said. ‘I mean, Leila will be going to school in a few days and she’ll have homework. I work and it’s an hour’s drive each way to Kelsey’s flat.’

  Peter looked thoughtful. ‘If you make one of the contacts at the weekend and two during the week – say, Tuesday and Thursday – then it won’t be so disruptive or tiring for you all.’

  ‘It is important Leila sees her mother regularly,’ Rana put in. ‘Some of our younger children see their parents every day when they first come into care. If you prefer, we could set the arrangements for contact ourselves.’

  ‘No, it’ll be fine,’ Sharon said tightly. ‘We’ll work it out.’

  ‘Good.’ Peter made a note. ‘We can always review the arrangements in a month or so,’ he added. ‘Do you have any other questions? If not, we’ll have a look around the house and then leave you to it. I’ll phone you tomorrow and then visit again in a couple of days.’