by Lisa Stone
‘I don’t have any questions,’ Sharon said.
‘I do,’ Leila said, slopping more sticky juice on the table.
‘Yes, love?’ Rana asked.
‘When can I go home?’
There was a short silence, as if the social workers were deciding who should answer.
‘Do you remember what we said in the car?’ Rana asked with an intensity Sharon found quite nauseating. ‘That we need to keep you safe? At present your Aunty Sharon is the best person to do that.’
‘You also said I’d get pocket money,’ Leila replied tartly.
Rana laughed, although Sharon thought she should be telling Leila not to be so bloody rude and demanding.
‘That’s right,’ Peter said brightly. ‘Aunty Sharon will give you pocket money each week.’ Then to Sharon: ‘At Leila’s age it’s five pounds a week, which is included in your allowance.’
Sharon nodded stiffly and moved the glass of half-drunk juice that Leila had left near the edge of the table further away so it wouldn’t get knocked over.
‘I haven’t finished that yet!’ Leila cried and snatched it back, slopping juice everywhere.
‘I’ll get a cloth,’ Sharon said, and disappeared into the kitchen.
As she mopped up the juice, she saw Rana’s judgemental expression, but sod it, it was her house.
‘So maybe you could show us around now,’ Rana said, standing as Sharon finished wiping up the mess. ‘Let’s start with the kitchen.’
Sharon knew her kitchen was very different to her sister’s and probably most others they saw – spotlessly white with sparkling granite worksurfaces. She was sure at least one of the social workers would comment. But they watched her put the cloth into the washing machine, glanced around, then headed out, upstairs and to Leila’s room.
After Rana’s remarks about the importance of Leila having her old belongings, Sharon decided not to make too much of all the new clothes she’d bought Leila, which were now hanging in the wardrobe. She just opened the door to show them. Peter nodded, but Rana opened the chest of drawers where Sharon had neatly folded Leila’s new underwear, pyjamas, socks, vests and T-shirts. Again, there were no comments and Sharon sensed disapproval of her neat, orderly arrangements.
‘Do you like your desk and chair?’ Sharon asked Leila, drawing them to her attention.
‘Where’s the television?’ Leila asked.
‘There isn’t one in here, love,’ Sharon replied. ‘It’s downstairs in the living room.’
Leila pulled a face. ‘All the kids at school have televisions in their bedrooms, and iPads. Have you got me an iPad?’
Sharon stared at her, incredulous. She didn’t seem to be joking, and the social workers were looking at her expectantly too.
‘Children nowadays need access to a laptop or tablet,’ Rana said. ‘With suitable parental controls in place, of course.’
‘But she’s only eight,’ Sharon said as Leila stared at her.
‘They learn how to use them at school in reception class,’ Peter said.
‘Fine,’ Sharon said brusquely. ‘But it’s nice to play traditional games too, like Cluedo and Scrabble, isn’t it?’
‘You sound just like Colin,’ Leila said.
Sharon froze. Both social workers were looking at Leila to see if she would say any more about her abductor, but Leila had moved on and was now rummaging in the toy box. Sharon breathed a sigh of relief.
‘It’s all baby stuff,’ Leila said, tipping the box upside down.
‘We can go shopping tomorrow and buy some more toys,’ Sharon replied, throwing the social workers a rueful smile. ‘I’ve got a lot to learn.’
‘That’s what Mum said about you,’ Leila replied, as sharp as a knife – just like her mother. ‘She said you know jack shit about kids, but I’d soon teach you.’
Sharon resisted the urge to slap her and went instead to the bed.
‘Have you seen these?’ she asked, picking up the soft toys she’d bought and carefully arranged on the pillow. These would surely impress them all, she thought. ‘Peter Rabbit, Rainbow Fish, a Care Bear and a soft furry elephant,’ she said, stroking each one. ‘Aren’t they cute?’ Then to the social workers she said, ‘All I need to buy now is her new school uniform.’
‘Can’t I go to my old school?’ Leila asked, snatching the Care Bear from her aunt.
‘It’s too far away,’ Peter said. ‘You’ll soon make new friends.’
Sharon saw Leila’s face lose its harshness and she appeared almost vulnerable. ‘Have you found Buttons yet?’ she asked, her voice slight.
‘I’m afraid not,’ Peter said gently.
Sharon had been prepared for this and, lifting up the duvet, she took out her pièce de résistance – the teddy bear that was an exact replica of Buttons – and placed it in Leila’s arms.
‘That’s not Buttons!’ Leila declared angrily, hurling it against the wall. ‘You’re trying to trick me just like Colin did!’
‘She’s been through a lot,’ Rana said.
‘I expect she’s tired,’ Peter added. ‘We’ll have a quick look round the rest of the house and then leave you to it.’
Sharon showed them the spare room, then the bathroom. She was about to go downstairs when Rana opened Sharon’s bedroom door and went in. Peter followed her and Leila tried to push past Sharon to go in as if she owned the place. Sharon stuck out her elbow and then pretended it was an accident when she squealed. This was her bedroom, her own personal space, and it would be the first and last time Leila entered it. She waited by the door while the three of them traipsed in and then came out.
Downstairs, Peter wished them a pleasant evening and both social workers said goodbye and left. As soon as Sharon closed the front door, Leila looked at her accusingly. ‘You’ve been drinking,’ she said. ‘I can smell it on your breath, just like I used to smell it on my mum’s. You’re no better than she is. How much will you give me to stop me telling the social worker?’
‘Nothing. You’re a rude, ungrateful little cow! And if we’re going to get on, you need to start doing as you’re told.’
‘That’s just what Colin said, and I don’t like him either!’
THIRTY-SEVEN
At six o’clock it was pitch black as Kelsey got off the bus and entered the Hawthorn Estate. She’d spent the whole afternoon at Coleshaw Police Station, answering questions about Leila’s disappearance while officers had searched her flat looking for evidence that she may have been harbouring Leila while she’d been missing, or had known where she was. They’d found nothing, of course.
Throughout the questioning Kelsey had kept to the story she and Leila had agreed upon: that Leila had come back that morning, not the day after Christmas, and that Kelsey had phoned the police straight away. She’d said Leila had told her Colin had taken her from the play area and then kept her in his flat and then at Mrs Goodman’s cottage, but other than that she’d been too traumatized to say anything else. Eventually they’d released her without charge and now she was looking forward to getting home and phoning Leila at Sharon’s house.
Hands deep in her pockets and head drawn in to protect her from the cold, Kelsey continued across the estate, wondering how Leila had got on when Peter Harris and the police had spoken to her. She and Leila had agreed that it was safer if she didn’t give too many details about her disappearance and return so there was less chance of her slipping up and giving them away. They’d agreed that she wouldn’t tell them she’d taken Colin Weaver’s money, although Kelsey doubted Leila would get into much trouble for that, considering what he’d done to her. Kelsey had also told Leila not to admit she’d gone with Colin Weaver of her own free will, as it could complicate matters and might lead to a more lenient sentence for him. He had abducted her, causing them both unbelievable agony – so he deserved whatever he got. Leila had told her mother he hadn’t sexually abused her, but Kelsey still had her doubts, because why else would he have taken her? It didn’t make sense and s
he told the police that.
The time she’d spent with her daughter had been wonderful, she thought as she walked. Two whole days – talking, laughing, crying, watching television, ordering take-aways, doing silly things, making up for lost time, and creating the mother-and-daughter relationship they’d never had. Kelsey had wished it could last forever, but that wasn’t possible. One day, she told Leila, if she kept off the drink and drugs, they could do it again, for good. She promised she would do everything possible to win her back. She’d lost her older children for good. Her only hope of seeing them again was if, as adults, they decided to contact her. But she still had a chance with Leila.
Others walking on the estate after dark kept to the paths where the lighting was better, but, eager to be home, Kelsey took the shortcut towards the play area. It had emptied now of children and a group of teenagers were hanging around as usual, but other than looking over they paid her little attention. It was too early for Kevin, Jason and Mike to be out dealing. With relief, Kelsey acknowledged that those days when she’d waited anxiously for them to arrive, ticking off the minutes till her next fix, had passed. She had no need for them now and she would make sure she never did again.
Kelsey heard Doris Goodman’s door open behind her, followed by children’s voices saying goodbye and thanking her for dinner.
‘You’re welcome. Good boy. Make sure you go straight home,’ Doris said.
Kelsey supposed she wasn’t so bad really. Her heart was in the right place. She’d often taken Leila in, although Kelsey had resented it. Now her mind was clearer, she was starting to see she’d probably deserved all those lectures. The police had said Mrs Goodman felt really bad that Colin Weaver had used her cottage to hide Leila. Kelsey thought she might call in on her sometime and tell her it wasn’t her fault and that she didn’t hold her responsible. Now Leila had been found safe and well, Kelsey was feeling very magnanimous and forgiving.
As she entered her block of flats, her neighbour Brooke was leaving with her two youngest children, but instead of saying hello or even smiling, she pushed past her. ‘You want to be ashamed of yourself!’ she hissed. ‘Women like you shouldn’t be allowed to have kids.’
‘And you need to mind your own fucking business!’ Kelsey returned angrily. ‘I know it was you who spoke to the press. Concentrate on your own problems. I’ve heard what goes on in your place through the walls.’
Ignoring Brooke’s middle-finger sign, Kelsey continued up the stairs to her flat. As she rounded the corner, her heart sank. Her front door had been graffitied in black paint. Whore! Liar! Slag! Bitch! The council had only just removed the last lot. There were plenty of people on the estate who could have been responsible – ready to condemn others while ignoring their own failings.
Opening her front door, Kelsey was immediately hit by the emptiness inside the flat. Just those couple of days of Leila being there had injected life into it – her laughing and messing around, trying to recover the childhood she should have had. Now it was gone again – as if it never existed. As she went in and closed the door, Kelsey vowed once more to do whatever it took to bring Leila back. In the meantime, she’d make the most of contact. Peter had said she could phone Leila on the days she didn’t see her. But first she needed a hot drink.
Kelsey filled the kettle and made herself a cup of tea, marvelling at all the food in the cupboards, fridge and freezer. While Leila had been there she’d given Kelsey some of Colin Weaver’s money and told her to go out and get what they needed. Kelsey would have loved to take Leila with her shopping, but it was too risky – she would have been spotted. So she’d taken the hundred pounds Leila had counted out and called a taxi – there and back. She wouldn’t normally have spent the money on taxis, but she wanted to be as quick as possible so she didn’t miss any time with Leila. She’d returned laden with bags of groceries. There was still over five hundred pounds left, which Leila had told her mother to keep. Kelsey had promised none of it would go on drugs or alcohol, and Leila had said she trusted her.
Taking the mug of steaming tea and a savoury pastry to the sofa, Kelsey pressed the number for Sharon’s mobile. She’d told Leila she’d buy her a phone of her own with some of Weaver’s money so they could talk whenever they wanted to, but for now their calls would have to go through Sharon. Her phone rang a few times and then went through to voicemail. Typical Sharon, Kelsey thought; she often left her phone in her handbag where she couldn’t hear it. She tried again with the same result and then called Sharon’s landline, which she was sure to hear. She took another sip of her tea and waited for Sharon to answer. The phone rang and rang. Strange she wasn’t picking up. Peter had said he’d make a point of telling Sharon that she would phone. Perhaps they’d gone out. Yes, that must be it.
Kelsey finished her tea, ate the pastry, waited fifteen minutes, then tried Sharon’s landline again. As before, it rang and rang and no answerphone cut in. She tried her mobile and this time she left a message. ‘Hi, Sharon, it’s me. I guess the two of you are out. Can you give me a ring when you’re free so I can talk to Leila? Thanks.’
If felt strange having to ask her younger sister if she could speak to Leila, but she supposed she’d have to get used to it. It was probably difficult for Sharon too – assuming parental duties for her niece when she’d had no experience of looking after a child, and with Kelsey looking on. Or perhaps it wasn’t. Sharon could be a dark horse sometimes, never letting on or talking about her feelings. It had surprised Kelsey that she’d wanted to look after Leila.
Kelsey made herself another mug of tea and returned to the sofa. She’d cook something proper to eat, just as soon as she’d spoken to Leila. She ached to speak to her, to hear the sound of her voice again, and find out how she’d got on since they’d parted earlier. Hopefully Leila would be able to take Sharon’s mobile somewhere so they could talk in private – the landline was in the living room. She’d told Leila not to give her aunt any more details of her return than she’d given the police and her social worker, because Sharon was sure to feel duty bound to pass it on.
‘She’s not like me,’ Kelsey had said. ‘She’s got better morals.’
They’d laughed conspiratorially and Leila had kissed her cheek and said, ‘I love you, Mum. You’re far better than Sharon. You’re not stuck up like she is.’
They’d laughed again and Kelsey had appreciated Leila’s loyalty. Having let her daughter down so badly in the past, it meant a lot to Kelsey to know she still had her on-side. If she was honest, she felt jealous that Sharon was looking after Leila, but there’d been no alternative if she wasn’t to go to a foster carer or a children’s home.
Half an hour passed and Sharon didn’t return her call. It was 7.30 p.m. Surely they were back from wherever they’d been by now? Kelsey didn’t want to make a nuisance of herself by phoning repeatedly, but she couldn’t settle to anything until she’d spoken to Leila. First thing in the morning she’d go out and buy Leila the mobile phone she’d promised her; then they wouldn’t have this problem. She should have bought her a phone of her own months ago when she’d first wanted to – then none of this would have happened!
Kelsey waited another ten minutes and called Sharon’s mobile again. As before, it rang and then went through to voicemail. ‘Hi, it’s me again. Can you phone, please, so I can talk to Leila? Thanks.’
She tried the landline, but still no luck. Where were they at this time? What could they possibly be doing? Surely Sharon had checked her mobile by now and seen the missed calls and listened to her voice message?
Suddenly her phone bleeped with a text message. It was from Sharon: Leila is asleep. Will phone tomorrow. x
Of course. Relief. That was it. Leila was asleep. She texted back: OK. Speak tomorrow x. Leila would have been exhausted with everything that she’d been through today. But why hadn’t Sharon answered her landline? If Leila was in bed asleep, surely she would have answered it quickly so the sound of it ringing didn’t wake her?
For
reasons Kelsey couldn’t quite say, she felt a pang of unease, which she dismissed as anxiety. She’d lost her daughter once through her own stupidity and neglect, and now she was being overprotective. Naturally Sharon would take good care of Leila. Why shouldn’t she?
THIRTY-EIGHT
‘You’re not going to like this,’ Beth said as Matt slid into his office chair the following morning. ‘Colin Weaver’s solicitor is going back to court this morning to apply for bail.’
‘He won’t get it, will he?’
‘The DS says he’s in with a chance now the murder charge has been dropped. We’re opposing the application, but Weaver has no previous convictions, and until all of this he was considered of good character. Forensics couldn’t find anything on his computer to suggest paedophile activity and Leila isn’t saying he molested her. In fact, she’s saying very little. The judge might decide he isn’t a threat to the public and grant him bail.’
‘But he’s pleading guilty to abducting Leila,’ Matt said.
‘Yes, with mitigating circumstances. He’s still claiming he was acting in Leila’s best interests and that she agreed to go with him. He says he was like a father figure to her and only did what he did to keep her safe, because the social services weren’t doing their job and her mother was useless. He’s claiming he planned to start a new life with her, which is why he took out all his savings.’
Matt pulled a face. ‘The judge won’t buy that.’
‘Possibly not, but there might be enough to grant him bail – innocent until proven guilty, after all. And as his solicitor pointed out, some of our case – namely the murder charge – has already been disproved. Forensics have shown that the blood found in the cottage was his and likely to be from when he cut himself opening a can of food as he claimed. The psychiatrist says he’s not delusional and appears to have a good grasp of reality. He was depressed, but no more than one would expect from being in prison.’