Chosen Child

by Linda Huber

  ‘I’ll pop back to the office and see how things are going. I’ll be back in an hour, max. Sorry, love.’

  Chapter Eight

  Friday 16th May

  Amanda stood in the hallway, hands clamped over her mouth, retching as Gareth’s phone sounded upstairs. What was she supposed to do now? Where was the phone, anyway? Was she going to have to rootle through his pockets for it? She collapsed on the bottom step and burst into tears. She was a widow… She had killed her husband. And she had – two children. It was a blacker nightmare than she’d ever imagined and there would be no waking up in the morning.

  Jaden toddled through from the living room, a sweetly concerned expression on his face. ‘Ma-mama.’ He laid plump hands on her knees, where tiny cuts from kneeling on the floor beside Gareth zigzagged across her skin. ‘Boo boo?’

  Amanda lifted him onto her lap, soaking up his heavy warmth and baby smell, pulling comfort and strength from her fourteen-month-old son. She had to get a grip, and fast. Gareth was gone and she could never make that right again, but Jaden was here and she had to build a life for him and the coming baby. James was right. There was no way she could go to prison.

  But – would she really be sent to prison for something that had been a complete accident? Gareth and James had started the fight... Amanda wiped her eyes with her free hand. She had pushed Gareth. To his death. It was her fault, hers and James’. Would there ever be a way to get past that? If the police were involved, at the very least she’d be investigated and heaven knows how long that would take. They would take Jaden from her until it was all resolved.

  And – a shudder ran through her at the thought – the whole sordid tale would come out. The pregnant adulterous wife who didn’t know who the father of her baby was. She and James would be on the front page of every newspaper in the country, the talk of the town. Heads would turn every time she walked along the street, curtains would twitch and people would whisper behind her back. The woman whose lover and husband fought to the death.

  Amanda stood up, Jaden in her arms. She could not let that happen. Her child deserved better.

  ‘Right, mister,’ she said. ‘Mummy has some cleaning to do upstairs, so you can sit in the buggy down here with some raisins and watch Thomas, okay?’

  The novelty appealed to Jaden, and she left him safely strapped in, a saucer of raisins by his side and Thomas and friends tooting around on the television. Soberly, Amanda gathered cleaning stuff for the bedroom carpet – was there blood there? – and a bucket for the broken mirror. Her stomach heaving, she forced her feet upstairs and stood in the spare room doorway.

  James had wrapped Gareth in three large bin bags, one over his head, another over his feet, and the third taped round his middle. Amanda dropped the bucket and clapped a hand over her mouth and nose. Shit… it smelled like shit in here. She’d never be able to open that terrible parcel and search through Gareth’s pockets. Never again would she touch her husband… Bile rising in her throat, Amanda scuttled across the landing and called Gareth’s number from her mobile. Blessed relief washed over her when his phone rang in the bedroom, yes, there it was under the bedside table. It must have fallen from his pocket during the scuffle. Amanda grabbed the mobile and sank down on the bed, her legs suddenly weak.

  The call had been from Gareth’s mother, a newly-retired hairdresser who lived in the west end of Glasgow. Amanda rubbed her chin; she’d need to get hold of herself before she talked to Susie. Her fingers were all over the place, but somehow she managed to text. Busy atm, call you later x.

  Trembling, Amanda gathered the larger pieces of mirror from the carpet and vacuum cleaned, hearing splinters of glass tinkle up the tube. Would she have seven years bad luck now? But Gareth had broken the mirror and his was the ultimate bad luck. Sobbing, Amanda pulled the one remaining shard from the wardrobe door and dropped it into the bucket. Had Gareth slipped on the smooth surface of the glass? If so, he might still be alive if she hadn’t been vain enough to stick a mirror to a wardrobe door where no mirror was intended… her fault, her fault. She would hear the crack of Gareth’s neck breaking every day for the rest of her life.

  As far as she could see there was no blood on the carpet, not even at the foot of the bed where James had been standing. Good. She sprayed carpet shampoo over the floor where Gareth had been, then went to check on Jaden and phone her mother-in-law. This was where she had to prove she could act.

  Three times she broke the connection before it rang, then she bit down hard inside her cheek and forced herself to go through with it. ‘Hi, Suze. How’s things?’

  ‘Not so bad. I’m looking forward to seeing the three of you. How’s my boy?’

  Nausea flooded through Amanda until she realised Susie was talking about Jaden. ‘Oh – he’s, ah, enjoying the Thomas DVD you sent him. I – I’ll take him for a walk on the front soon, get him tired for bed. Suze, Gareth was going to call you back but he’s crashed out upstairs. It was his leaving do at work this afternoon.’

  Now she had done it. She had passed the point of no return.

  Susie laughed. ‘’Nuff said. I know my son. I wanted to confirm what day you were driving north.’

  Amanda’s head was spinning and it was all she could do to keep her voice steady. ‘Oh – a week on Sunday. Less traffic on the motorway. We’re planning an overnight stop in Yorkshire so we’ll be with you by Monday afternoon.’

  ‘Are you all right, hen? You sound a bit funny.’

  Amanda bit her cheek again and tasted blood. ‘Just tired. I need my holiday.’

  Susie accepted this and chatted on for a few moments about an exhibition she wanted to take them to, then rang off. Amanda took a deep breath. The cover-up had started. She could no longer claim that Gareth’s death was an accident. And now she’d do as she’d said and take Jaden for a walk along the sea front to tire him out. She needed him asleep; she needed alone-time.

  The rest of the afternoon passed in a blur. Amanda pushed Jaden’s buggy along Wharf Road, then let him toddle along the sand for a quarter of an hour. The outing did nothing for her nerves. Too many other mums and babies were doing the same thing, enjoying a lovely spring day at the beach, breakers crashing in the distance and gulls crying mournfully above them. Shivering in spite of the warmth of the day, Amanda turned back before she met anyone she knew. Home again, she made Jaden banana sandwiches for his dinner and sat beside him in the kitchen while he ate. Poor baby, he hadn’t had a proper meal all day; a snack for lunch because James was coming, then cake, and now another snack for dinner because his daddy was dead upstairs. Jaden sat munching with a happy smile on his little face, and Amanda wiped tears from her cheeks.

  How was she supposed to get through the next however many days acting as if everything was all right? It was a ridiculous idea, pretending that Gareth had gone on his walk and then disappeared. What if the police found out what had really happened? She would definitely go to prison. It was all so unbelievable and so hurtful; she was hurting more than she’d ever hurt in her life, a million times more. She was numb with hurt.

  When Jaden finished eating they went back to the living room and she put another DVD into the player for him. Now she was being an even worse mother, but she simply couldn’t sit there playing after tea as she normally did.

  Cars were passing by as the neighbours came home from work. Amanda glanced outside. Their Ford was still parked on the street; she should move it into the garage. They never left it outside all night.

  She was searching for the car key – Gareth usually plonked it on the hallway table but today of all days it wasn’t there – when her phone rang. It was James.

  ‘Can you access your garage from inside the house?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Hell. That would have been too easy. Right. Fill two or three of those big black bags with something – clothes, spare bed stuff, whatever. I’ll be with you in ten.’

  Amanda stared at her phone, seeing her hand begin to tremble again. Why
the bags of stuff? He might have told her more. Resentment rising inside her, she nonetheless went upstairs and stuffed duvets and pillows into three large bin bags.

  True to his word, ten minutes later James reversed into the driveway and bounded up the path, looking for all the world like a man come to visit a good friend.

  ‘Here’s the plan,’ he said, closing the front door behind him. ‘If anyone sees us and mentions it later, you say I’m a friend who’s expecting visitors and you’re lending me some bed things. We’ll take the bags out and put them in my car, laughing and chatting, and Gareth’ll be in one of them. Okay, Amanda? We want to do this quickly and look natural while we’re doing it.’

  Amanda’s knees gave way and she sat down on the stairs again. ‘What are you going to do with him?’

  His expression was grim. ‘I won’t tell you that, because next week you’re going to have to act frantic when he disappears. I’ll come back tomorrow morning and we’ll thrash out the details. The important thing now is to get the body away.’

  The body… Unable to speak, Amanda followed him up to the spare room. James crouched beside the bundle that was her husband, testing the weight, and Amanda felt nausea rise. The smell was awful, and that was just… body fluids. When decay set in it would be so much worse. What on earth could James possibly do to hide that?

  ‘He’s starting to go stiff,’ said James in a low voice. ‘This is the pits. But there’s nothing else we can do.’

  He grasped the package, hefting the body into a good position in his arms, his face sheet-white.

  ‘Come on, Amanda. Go down and open the boot. Take one of the other bags. We’ll put that one and Gareth in first and then come back for the other two, then it’ll be thanks and hugs and goodbye out there, and I’ll drive off.’ His voice was vicious but that was how Amanda felt too.

  Almost in a trance, Amanda led the way. James stumbled halfway downstairs, Gareth’s foot inside black plastic hooking in the banisters. Shuddering, Amanda jerked it free. It felt nothing at all like Gareth’s foot. And the terrible bundle in James’ arms obviously wasn’t a spare duvet. This was crazy… if anyone saw… But it was way too late to do anything else, wasn’t it? She opened the front door.

  Bile rose in Amanda’s throat as James heaved Gareth into the boot, then she tossed another bag in after him. James shot her the bleakest look in the world as he flung the remaining bags of pillows in too and slammed the boot shut. He hugged her, a ghastly grin on his sheet-white face, and a minute later the car was turning the corner. Amanda trailed back inside. That was the last she would ever see of her husband.

  Jaden was still intent on his DVD, and Amanda stroked his head. He looked up at her, a hopeful expression on his little face. ‘Da-dada?’

  Amanda burst into tears.

  Chapter Nine

  Saturday 17th May

  Ella waved as Rick drove away. Officially, he was going to the garden centre to get some more compost, and fresh gravel for the driveway. Unofficially he would almost certainly call into work first, because he hadn’t wanted her to come with him. She sighed. He’d been gone well under an hour last night but returned looking grim. Things with the India contract were still precarious, but unless something more had gone wrong overnight, he should be back before too long. Meantime, she had her own plans. She would drive to the furniture store on the edge of town and see what they had for children.

  Aware that her lips were curved in a smile, Ella wandered round the children’s section, looking at little white beds with princess canopies, and miniature desks and chairs. How lovely it was to be planning for a little girl. Rick would have said she was tempting fate, but really, what could go wrong? It was only a matter of time before Soraya joined them. And maybe next year they could start the process again, and complete the family with a little brother for their girl. Ella caught sight of her reflection as she walked through the store, a crazy blonde woman with a grin a mile wide, but oh, she had waited a long time for this. The parent times were beginning.

  On the way out she picked up a catalogue, then stopped off at the butcher’s to buy steaks for dinner. Rather to her surprise the Peugeot was back in the driveway when she arrived home. So Rick’s presence at work wasn’t needed today. Good. And there he was, lugging sacks of compost into the shed. A rush of affection spread warmly through Ella, and she walked across the garden and knocked on the shed window.

  ‘Anyone home?’

  Rick appeared clutching a red and white basketball basket and a ball, and pulled the door shut. He waved the basket at her. ‘Let’s get this up, shall we?’

  Ella stood by while he marked screw holes on the back wall of the shed, arguing amiably about the height. While he was screwing it on she told him about her visit to the furniture shop.

  ‘Good idea,’ he said. ‘Now you know what direction to steer her in when it comes to choosing stuff. I suppose we’d take her along to do that?’

  ‘I’d say it would be the best way of all to help her feel she was an important member of the family,’ said Ella, happiness shivering through her. This was going to be so good. ‘She knows what she likes, too.’

  ‘She does seem to have an opinion about most things, doesn’t she? For such a small person. Why don’t you drive out to Burnside Centre after lunch? There’s a much bigger store there, and a toyshop too.’ Whistling, he went back into the shed and closed the door.

  Ella went to look at Soraya’s shell garden. This was a good idea too, giving her a patch of land of her own. And it was genuinely pretty. They could add some gravel in between the shells, and maybe some rock plants too. It would be up to Soraya.

  She returned to the house and heated soup for lunch. Rick was silent as they ate, and Ella groaned inwardly. She hated it when he was so absorbed in his work that their home life suffered, but it had happened before and she knew it would happen again. It might be difficult persuading him to take time off if – when – Soraya joined their family.

  Something Liz had told them popped into Ella’s head and she leaned towards Rick. ‘We could start making a family photo book for Soraya tonight. I suppose she’d get it when the match is officially approved.’

  He stared at her. ‘Do you think we still have to do that? After all, she knows us; she’s been here already. The adoption parties seem to create a different timeline.’

  ‘I don’t think it’s a must, but it’d help her feel part of the family. We can include photos of our parents, and your sister and her kids.’

  Rick was frowning again. ‘Whatever you like. Are you going to Burnside?’

  ‘Yes. Are you coming?’

  ‘Not today. I want to work in the garden while it’s dry.’

  Ella drove the few miles feeling slightly miffed. Would Rick be so distant if it was a little boy they were adopting? Unlikely – it would be all systems go buying boy-toys. Or maybe Rick was afraid of emotional commitment to a child who still wasn’t officially their own. Hopefully, that would change very soon.

  She arrived back home with more catalogues and a box of board games ranging from Snakes and Ladders to Twister. The family that plays together, stays together. She had heard that somewhere and it was probably true.

  Rick was in the kitchen when she returned, looking rather white. Could he be sickening for something? Ella dropped her bag on the table and went to hug him.

  ‘Are you all right? You’re very pale.’

  He fumbled with the glass he was holding. ‘Sorry, Ella. It’s - ’ His eyes met hers for an instant and she saw worry and frustration there. He sipped his water and went on. ‘I – I’m not sure how safe my job is, and it’s been preying on my mind.’

  Ella was astounded. She’d assumed Rick’s job was a million per cent safe. Logistics was an area where they never had enough well-qualified people, wasn’t it?

  ‘For heaven’s sake, why?’

  ‘Just a feeling. If this new contract doesn’t come through… The next few weeks’ll be critical so I apologise i
n advance if I’m a bit out of things.’

  She kissed him. ‘No problem. And I’ll be ready any time you want to talk. But absolute worst-case scenario, Rick, even if you lost your job, with your qualifications you’d find another one. Certain sure.’

  He shrugged, his face bleak. ‘Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that. Thanks. Why don’t I let you organise dinner while I take some stuff to the dump, and then afterwards we’ll get on with your photo book for Soraya?’ He gave her a thin smile and went outside.

  Frustrated, Ella poured a large glass of Merlot, all the time wanting to scream at him,

  ‘It’s not my photo book. It’s going to be Soraya’s photo book, but for the purposes of this exercise it should be our photo book.’

  She stood at the sink preparing vegetables, and saw Rick drive off a few minutes later. The dump, her foot. He’d be off back to the factory to see who was in the office and what, if any, progress had been made.

  A thought struck her as she was grating carrots for salad. Would they still be allowed to adopt Soraya, if Rick was made redundant? They’d been approved on the basis of Rick in a job…

  Trepidation rising, she abandoned the carrots to sit down at the computer, and quickly found what she wanted. Being unemployed didn’t exempt you from becoming an adoptive parent, but possibly Rick didn’t know this and was worrying needlessly. It might be an idea to mention it casually over dinner. If he lost his job he could be the one at home doing more of the parenting. Ella paused, staring out to where Rick was already pulling up in the driveway. She didn’t want to be the breadwinning parent. She wanted to be a hands-on, full-time, stay-at-home mum for a couple of years at least.

  But maybe she wouldn’t get the chance.

  To her surprise, Rick was more cheerful when he came back in. ‘I popped into the factory; things seem more stable today,’ he said. ‘Fingers crossed they stay that way.’