Taken

by Lisa Stone

  He was put through and booked an appointment for them to come in an hour and a half. Before they arrived he would go out and buy some food and a new mobile – pay-as-you-go, so it couldn’t be traced. Then he would call her and find out exactly what was going on. It had been too risky in prison to phone, as they monitored all calls in and out. She needed to speak out quickly or it might be time for him to tell the police everything. He wasn’t going to take the blame for all of this any longer. His solicitor had told him that he could get fourteen years for child abduction, so she had to tell them the truth now – or he would.

  FORTY

  Kelsey didn’t sleep at all well knowing Colin Weaver was in the flat below. She tossed and turned, imagining she could hear his voice close by as she had done on the night he’d abducted Leila. She shivered at the thought of him being down there. It made her skin crawl. Although he couldn’t get in now, it was as though his evil was permeating up through the floor from the flat below.

  During the evening she’d heard his door being repaired, but prior to that – when he’d lived there before – she’d hardly heard a thing from his flat, unlike those of some of her neighbours, where the ups and downs of their daily lives were broadcast through the walls and echoed along the corridors. Even if she had heard anything coming from his flat, she hadn’t taken any notice. But now it seemed that every noise in the block – footstep, groan, cry or conversation – could be coming from Colin Weaver’s flat. At one point in the early hours Kelsey had got out of bed and been about to go down when she remembered what Matt had told her about confronting him, and thought better of it. She needed to stay out of trouble if she stood any chance of getting Leila back.

  It was a relief when morning came and the torturous thoughts of the night receded. It was New Year’s Eve; a new year was about to start, full of hope and possibility. Even if she didn’t get Leila back this year – which Kelsey had to admit was unlikely, given her track record – she’d make the most of every minute they spent together and make sure Leila grew to be proud of her. At some point, when Leila was old enough, she’d be able to decide where she wanted to live and Kelsey would make sure it was with her.

  As she showered and dressed, Kelsey pictured the little party they would be having that evening to see in the new year. Celebrate together as a family, Sharon had said, which had made Kelsey feel warm and wanted. She’d texted: I’m making us supper. Come as soon as you can in the afternoon, and stay the night. Sharon had replied with a smiling emoji saying they’d be there as soon as they could. The flat was clean and tidy – Sharon could have Kelsey’s bed and she’d sleep on the sofa. Leila would have her old room. She was very excited.

  Dressed in clean jeans and a jumper, Kelsey made herself some breakfast – coffee and toast – and then filled the washing machine and left it to do its job. She needed to go shopping to buy supplies for their party tonight. Feeling more positive than she had done in years, she let herself out, ignored the graffiti still on her door, which she’d see to later, then caught a bus into town. She had made a list of all the things she needed to buy, and the first stop was the toy shop. At 9.10 a.m. it had just opened and the sales were on. Kelsey was like a kid in a sweet shop and bought a selection of games, including Monopoly and Jenga – not only to play that evening but whenever Leila visited. It was to her shame, Kelsey thought, that she didn’t already have games, but in the past she’d never played with Leila. Not at all. But all that had changed. They were going to have fun tonight and every time she and Leila were together from now on.

  Leaving the toy shop, Kelsey went to the supermarket where she bought a strong detergent and wire wool for cleaning the front door, party food and soft drinks. She’d have one glass of the bubbly Sharon was bringing but that would be all. There certainly wouldn’t be a repetition of Christmas Day evening, when she’d drunk herself into oblivion. She still felt ashamed of that.

  Shopping done, Kelsey caught the bus home and then struggled up the stairs with all the bags. She paused on the landing of the floor below hers and looked along the corridor towards Colin Weaver’s flat. The padlock had gone and there was no sign of him, but how she would have liked to have told him it was his money that was funding their party this evening. Payback, she thought; a small retribution for what he’d done.

  Resisting the urge to knock on his door, she continued up the stairs to her flat where she unpacked the bags and put the party food in the fridge to cook later. She arranged the paper plates, party poppers, whistles and boxes of games on the coffee table, then stood back and admired her work. What a surprise Leila would have when she came in and saw all this. So, too, would Sharon. She could only remember one occasion when she and her sister had sat around a table playing games as a family. It was the night their stepfather had started to abuse her – touching her under the table. After that there’d been no more games or laughter. But that was the past. He’d done enough damage; the future was theirs.

  Now to clean the front door. Kelsey wanted it looking decent and all those foul words gone for when Leila and Sharon arrived. She filled a bucket with hot water, added detergent, then took the wire wool outside. Hopefully, once news spread that she’d had nothing to do with Leila going missing, she wouldn’t be targeted any more. She scrubbed, her hands growing red and sore, but half an hour later the graffiti had gone. So, too, had large patches of paint. But it looked much better. As she finished, Brooke came out of her flat. Kelsey glanced at her suspiciously. ‘Hi,’ Brooke said as an ice-breaker.

  ‘Hi,’ Kelsey replied, relieved. It wouldn’t be long before they were on good terms again.

  The door clean, Kelsey returned indoors, emptied the bucket of dirty water down the toilet, then changed into a new dress – courtesy of Weaver – combed her hair and put on some make-up. Trying to curb her excitement, she went to the living room and looked out of the window, hoping to see Sharon’s car arrive. It was nearly three o’clock and Kelsey had told her to come in the afternoon as soon as she wanted, so she was expecting them any time now.

  It was a bright, cold day and children were in the play area, many of them accompanied by a parent. Parents on the estate were being more vigilant since Leila had been taken. Her gaze shifted to Doris Goodman’s flat – the Christmas fairy lights were on. At some point she would go over and make peace with her. Maybe even invite her into her flat so she could see for herself the improvements she’d made and show her she was turning her life around. She would make it a New Year’s resolution.

  Kelsey stayed by the window, gazing out, looking for Sharon’s car. An hour passed. The daylight began to fade and the children disappeared from the play area. Her phone bleeped with a text message and she quickly picked it up, hoping it was Sharon to say they were on their way. But it was from an old client who’d been working abroad for the last four months and probably hadn’t heard about all the fuss of Leila going missing. Or perhaps he had but was desperate for a bit of what he liked before he returned to his family. Just landed. Can I pop in on my way home?

  No. Sorry, I have other plans, Kelsey texted.

  When then? he replied.

  She hesitated, her fingers hovering over the keypad. Weaver’s money wouldn’t last forever, but she needed to stay off the game and find herself a proper job if she stood any chance of regaining custody of Leila.

  I’ve had a career change so no longer available, she texted.

  Good luck x

  He’d been one of the nicer ones, who’d treated her with respect.

  By five o’clock Kelsey couldn’t stand the wait any longer and texted Sharon. How long before you get here?

  There was no reply, so Kelsey assumed she must be driving and they were therefore on their way. Excited and unable to settle, she paced the room, waiting for them. Another hour passed and it was dark outside. She realized they couldn’t have been on their way when she’d texted or they would have arrived by now. She tried phoning Sharon’s mobile but it went through to voicemail, so she l
eft a message, again assuming they must be on their way. ‘Hi. Looking forward to seeing you both.’

  Another thirty minutes passed, during which time Kelsey thought every sound in the corridor was them arriving and she rushed to the door only to be disappointed. She couldn’t imagine why it was taking so long. At six-thirty she tried phoning again and left another message. ‘What time will you be here?’

  Then she tried Sharon’s home phone, which just rang and rang, so at least they must have left and were on their way.

  She was like a cat on a hot tin roof, walking up and down her flat, listening out, the living-room curtains closed against the night sky. Sharon probably didn’t realize how much this evening meant to her; how much she was looking forward to it and all the trouble she’d gone to. Just as well there wasn’t any alcohol in the flat, Kelsey thought, because she’d have been tempted to have a glass to calm herself down.

  Perhaps she hadn’t made it clear to her sister what time she was expecting them? Yes, that must be it. Instead of saying afternoon she should have given a specific time. But it was evening now, not afternoon. Disappointed but still expecting them at any moment, Kelsey decided to start cooking the party food so it would be ready for when they arrived. They’d be hungry. She arranged the food on trays and placed them in the oven, but – preoccupied and not used to cooking – she forgot all about them until the smell of burning food hit her.

  Rushing to the oven, Kelsey pulled open the door, but it was too late. Most of the delicate filo pastry savouries were ruined. Tears sprang to her eyes. It seemed that no matter how hard she tried, nothing ever went her way. Suddenly the front doorbell rang and she ran to answer it, wiping her eyes as she went. Leila and Sharon, laden down with bags, stood smiling before her.

  ‘Sorry we’re late,’ Sharon said. ‘The traffic was awful and we stopped off to pick up some food.’

  ‘Have you burnt something, Mummy?’ Leila asked as they came in, placing the bunch of flowers she was carrying in Kelsey’s arms.

  ‘They’re lovely,’ Kelsey said, blinking back fresh tears. Then with a small laugh, she said, ‘Just as well you brought some more food – I’m afraid I’ve burnt what I had.’

  ‘No worries,’ Sharon said positively. ‘There’s plenty here to eat and drink. You look like you could do with a glass of something.’

  ‘Too right,’ Kelsey said, relieved that they were here and the evening was salvageable.

  She followed her sister and Leila into the kitchen where they took control. She watched them as they worked together, putting the flowers in water and setting out the already-cooked platters of food and dips they’d brought with them. ‘Thank you so much,’ she said gratefully.

  ‘You’re welcome,’ Sharon said, and put a drink into Kelsey’s hand. ‘To us,’ Sharon said, raising her glass of lemonade.

  ‘To us,’ Leila and Kelsey repeated.

  Immediately Kelsey started to feel better as the alcohol took effect, warming and relaxing her. It wasn’t the bottle of bubbly her sister had said she’d bring but gin topped up with lemonade. The sweetness of the lemonade masked the strength of the gin, so it was easy to accept a refill.

  ‘Let’s play Jenga,’ Kelsey suggested, going to the table.

  ‘Yes!’ Leila exclaimed excitedly. ‘Aunty Sharon and I play it at her house.’

  Kelsey banished the twinge of jealousy she felt at Leila being already familiar with the game from playing it with Sharon, and homed in on the fact that Leila hadn’t referred to her aunt’s house as home, which would have really hurt. The three of them grouped around the table and sipped their drinks as they began to play, taking turns to carefully slide out one of the wooden bricks from the tower, hoping it wouldn’t topple over. It was fun, they laughed a lot, and paused from playing only when Sharon went to refill their glasses again. Kelsey noticed she appeared to be drinking only lemonade.

  ‘Have a proper drink,’ Kelsey said, swinging her glass gaily. ‘You don’t have to drive; you can both stay the night.’

  ‘I will later to see in the new year,’ Sharon said.

  Moderation in all things – typical of her sister, Kelsey thought.

  Leila glanced at her mother and then took her turn and pulled out a brick from the Jenga tower. It went crashing to the floor. She and Kelsey hooted with laughter, clapped and then blew party whistles.

  ‘Sshh,’ Sharon said, pressing her finger to her lips. ‘He might hear us.’

  ‘Who?’ Kelsey asked, hiccupping and finishing her drink. She was definitely tipsy.

  ‘Him below,’ Sharon said, looking down to Colin Weaver’s flat.

  ‘I don’t give a fuck what he hears,’ Kelsey said, then apologized to Leila for swearing.

  They helped themselves to party food and Sharon refilled their glasses again. ‘I mustn’t have any more after this one,’ Kelsey said unsteadily.

  ‘You’re OK. It’s New Year’s Eve,’ Sharon replied indulgently, although Kelsey saw Leila watching her carefully.

  The evening continued just as Kelsey had imagined it, with lots of fun and laughter. But at eleven o’clock, as Kelsey tried to stand, she realized she’d overdone the drink. She took a step, the room swayed, and she would have fallen over had Sharon not grabbed her.

  ‘Oh, Mum,’ Leila cried, rushing to her.

  ‘I think you need to have a lie down,’ Sharon said.

  ‘But it’s only eleven o’clock,’ Kelsey protested, slurring her words. ‘I want to see in the new year.’

  ‘We’ll wake you when it’s time, Mum,’ Leila said.

  ‘Thank you, love.’ She kissed her cheek. ‘Glad I’ve got you two.’

  With Sharon on one side and Leila on the other supporting her, she went unsteadily into her bedroom. ‘Thanks,’ she said again, because without doubt she would never have made it without them.

  Once she was sitting on the edge of the bed, Sharon sent Leila out of her room, then Kelsey became aware that her sister was taking off her shoes and helping her into bed.

  ‘Don’t forget to wake me when it’s midnight,’ Kelsey mumbled, her eyes already closing.

  ‘I won’t,’ came Sharon’s voice. Just before she left, Kelsey thought she saw the flash of a camera, but it was most probably from all the drink. A second later she heard the bedroom door click shut and darkness engulfed her.

  FORTY-ONE

  Shit! As Kelsey surfaced, her first thought was that she’d forgotten to give Leila the pay-as-you-go phone she’d bought for her. She’d been looking for an opportunity to slip it to her without Sharon seeing, but her sister hadn’t left the room. But just a minute – what room was she in? Where was she? Her head throbbed, her stomach churned and bile rose in her throat. She opened her eyes and saw the ceiling of her bedroom. She was in bed with her best dress still on! Then she began to remember.

  It was New Year’s Eve. What time was it? She gingerly turned her head and reached for her phone. It was where she’d left it the evening before, charging. She squinted at the bright light of the screen. Jesus! It was 9.05 a.m. on 1 January. She’d missed New Year. But why hadn’t Leila and Sharon woken her? She was sure they’d promised they would. Or had she imagined it?

  Bitterly disappointed and ashamed of herself, Kelsey slowly eased herself upright on the pillow. She remembered Sharon and Leila bringing her to bed and then nothing. They probably hadn’t been able to wake her to see in the new year so had seen it in together – just the two of them. Her heart fell and guilt engulfed her. She assumed they were still asleep. Sharon was supposed to be sleeping in her bed, but clearly she wasn’t, so she must have taken the sofa. She’d have to apologize to them both.

  As she stood, the room tilted. God, she’d had a hell of a lot to drink. What had she been drinking? Oh yes, gin and lemonade. She had a vague recollection of Sharon refilling her glass, even when she’d told her not to. No good blaming her, Kelsey thought. It was her own stupid fault. Pissed again and in front of Leila! She felt wretched. What sort of example was
that from someone who had supposedly turned their life around? Would they forgive her? It would serve her right if they didn’t.

  Kelsey walked carefully to her bedroom door and then to the bathroom. She made it just in time and threw up in the sink. She hoped she hadn’t woken Leila and Sharon. They’d be even more annoyed with her. Rinsing her mouth with cold water, she then used the toilet and went along the hall to the living room. The sofa was empty. Where was Sharon? Had she shared Leila’s bed? She went into Leila’s bedroom. Her bed was empty too. So they hadn’t stayed the night, and all because of her! Kelsey felt the crushing weight of her failings both as a mother and a sister. She’d let them both down again! What a start to the new year. How was she going to make amends this time? She had no idea.

  Dejected and despising herself, she returned to the kitchen for a drink of water. She was badly dehydrated from all the alcohol. The kitchen was clean and tidy. No empty bottles, unwashed glasses or paper plates of half-eaten food as she would have expected. Everything had been put away and the vase containing the flowers Leila had given to her had been positioned in the centre of the table. She guessed that was Sharon’s touch. Kelsey felt even more of a failure and envious of her sister. She could picture her and Leila united in clearing up while she lay unconscious from alcohol. It would add to their perception of her as an unfit mother, a waste of space, and strengthen the bond between them. She stamped her foot in anger.

  But it was really his fault! Him down there! Fucking Colin Weaver! If he hadn’t taken Leila and highlighted her neglect, they might have survived as they had been doing. Not perfect, but getting by. He’d set in motion a chain of events that had resulted in her losing the last of her children. Her anger and frustration flared. She stamped her foot again on the tiled floor of the kitchen, but barefoot it made little impact. Furious and looking for an outlet for her anger, she grabbed a metal pan from the cooker and began hitting the floor with it. ‘It’s your fucking fault, Weaver!’ she shouted. ‘You should have minded your own bleeding business. You’ll pay for it, I promise.’