by K Leitch
Carla woke with a start early next morning when her mobile rang, it was Ted. Carla smiled to herself. ‘So what are you going to do about these gypsies then sergeant?’ she said as she answered it, ‘I’ve been hearing about it from every…Ted are you ok?’
She could hear him take a deep breath on the other end of the phone. ‘Carla, I think we’re going to need you back at the station; the chief asked me to give you a call. A five year old boy has been abducted from his house. Taken sometime during the night, so he could have been missing for about six hours…and we don’t have a bloody thing to go on.’
CHAPTER 7
It was a labour of love.
She had chosen everything that she thought her angel would like. All his favourite foods, which she was laying out carefully on the plate for him…not too many treats though, she knew about how important it was for a growing child to eat healthily. But she hadn’t been able to resist a small chocolate bar which she placed next to the peter rabbit plate, on to which she had piled fish fingers and bread and butter. She carefully carried the laden tray out through the kitchen door and up the stairs, making sure not to spill the glass of milk. It was tricky trying to unlock the little hatch whilst holding the tray but she was sure it would get easier in time.
‘Food my angel…I’m sure you’re hungry by now aren’t you,’ she cooed as she pushed the tray through the opened hatch. No sound came from beyond the hatch…maybe he was still sleeping. Mary was just about to pull the tray back out again when suddenly a little hand shot out and pulled the tray from her, she heard it crash to the floor.
‘Oh you little…why did you do that you ungrateful little brat! After all the time I spent making it nice for you. Well you won’t be getting any more so you can just think about that young man, while you are hungry tonight.’
And with that she closed up the hatch and stormed back down to the kitchen slamming the door behind her. It took her a while before she calmed down…the boy was probably tired. After all he had had a busy morning, she reasoned with herself…he would be better tomorrow after a good night’s sleep. ‘Yes I’ll think of something nice for him for tomorrow…um porridge maybe…no not porridge, that’s what Gran always made.’ Mary shook her head back and forth, as if trying to dislodge the unwelcome memories. Too much time thinking about the past only led her to the madness. And thinking about Gran only made her think about her father and Craig, and all they’d taken from her. White hot uncontrollable anger welled up inside her again needing a release. She slammed her fist into the wall, a wall that bore all the signs that she had done this many times before. Dried blood mingled with the new; the barely mended skin on her hand broke again as she pounded over and over.
Her breath was coming in short gasps now as if she had been running a marathon, she sank down on the floor, her back to the wall she needed to calm down, breathe, take control again. She searched in her pockets for her tin, rolled up her sleeve and carefully took out the razor blade she kept inside the old tobacco tin. She hissed at the first incision, as she ran the blade down the length of her arm allowing the fiery pain and the flow of blood to calm her. Gradually her anger subsided and she leaned her head against the cool of the wall. She mustn’t let the anger take control of her…she mustn’t scare her angel…she had waited so long, worked so hard for this. She sat there for a while watching as her blood streaked down the white of her arms making a little pool on the floor beside her.
CHAPTER 8 - HELEN
Helen stood in front of her big bedroom mirror and looked at her great distended belly, although at nearly seven months pregnant she wasn’t as big as some she’d seen. In fact her bump was really neat and she had managed to keep her weight down to a reasonable level. Although she had to admit that was more to do with the fact that she had barely eaten during the first few months. Firstly because she’d had no idea she was pregnant; but mainly because she’d been so depressed that she had lost all interest in food…well in everything actually. If it hadn’t been for Maggie and the other girls she would have given up. But they had badgered her and bullied her into eating and taking care of herself, so that luckily she had taken enough nourishment to keep her baby alive.
Her baby… Helen could hardly believe that this was finally happening to her. She had longed for a child for so long; and they had tried for years. After finding out that Wills, Helen’s ex-husband, had a low sperm count they had tried I.V.F. Three times she had gone through the painful process of injecting herself with hormones, only to be disappointed each time. Finally they had given up and decided to concentrate on other things. Helen had concentrated on her painting and floristry. Wills had decided to concentrate on a woman he’d met at work.
They had separated very traumatically a few months ago; and Helen, in her desperation had tried to kill herself, an attempt that was foiled by Maggie; who had found her comatose on the living room floor and rushed her to the hospital. This baby had survived all of the abuse that Helen had thrown at her. Helen could feel her lurching about inside her, she was a fighter this one…a true daughter of a witch and Helen couldn’t wait to meet her.
She didn’t know why she hadn’t told the others about the baby, obviously they would find out very soon. It was like she had wanted to keep her all to herself. Also she didn’t want to have to answer questions about whether Wills knew, or indeed if Mike (a disastrous one night stand) could possibly be the father. This baby was hers; she belonged to no one else…she didn’t need anyone else.
Helen pulled her top back down and chuckled to herself, it was amazing that none of the girls had noticed her expanding waistline, or if they had, they had been tactful enough not to mention her weight gain. Although to be fair she had always worn a very loose ethnic style of clothing. Lots of long flowing tops and skirts so unless you were looking, or even had an inkling it would be hard to spot. Anyway enough of that, she had an appointment to meet the owner of a little gallery in Hastings today which she was very excited about.
The sale of her work was steadily increasing; she already had canvasses displayed in galleries in Brighton and Rye as well as online, and her paintings were beginning to become quite well known in and around Surrey and the South East of England. In fact she was making a good living from her work, more than enough to be able to support herself and her child. She had sent back the cheques that Wills had sent her in the early days; she wanted nothing from him. But it had been a struggle for a while; and she hadn’t known if she was going to be able to hang onto the house. Maggie had helped of course, Helen thought with a fond smile, remembering the way her friend had badgered everyone she dealt with through her interior design business either to buy Helen’s canvasses or use her floristry skills when dressing houses… and so she had got by.
As usual Helen felt a twinge of guilt when she thought about how she was deceiving her friend. But then she shook it off, Maggie would understand…wouldn’t she?
There was a knock at the door, Helen looked at her watch. She had put a card in the local shop window advertising for a cleaner. Sometimes just lately she had been so engrossed in her work that she had been neglecting the house. This was brought home to her in a big way recently; when she had come upstairs from her studio, after spending nearly a whole night trying to finish a particular piece, and had discovered practically all her crockery piled high in a bowl full of slimy cold water and had been forced to eat baked beans straight from the tin.
So this must be the woman that had answered her ad; she went down and opened the door.
A tiny little woman with tightly pulled back mousey brown hair, amazing green eyes and an intense look on her face, stood on her step. ‘Mrs Drover?’ she asked giving Helen a wide smile, and saying in faltering pigeon English, ‘I am Maya Dronski…um I phone earlier about cleaning job.’
‘Of course, hi Maya do come in and please call me Helen,’ said Helen standing back to let her pass. She showed her into the rather cluttered sitting room and hastily cleared a place for her to sit.<
br />
‘You can see why I need your help,’ laughed Helen, ‘I’ve really let things slide just recently, what with work and everything.’
Maya smiled at her and nodded; Helen cleared her throat nervously, ‘Um actually I’m not quite sure how we go about this, I’ve never interviewed anyone before.’
‘You like references? I have letter here from the lady I work for last…in Birmingham,’ she started rummaging through her handbag and finally produced a well folded letter which she handed over to Helen.
Helen could barely decipher the spidery handwriting, but eventually was able to determine that Mrs Chowdry had been very happy with Maya’s work and was sad to see her go.
‘Well that all seems to be in order,’ said Helen handing the letter back. ‘Birmingham eh? What made you move down here?’
‘I have family here; I want to be near them,’ said Maya, ‘and also I like…it’s green here …very nice.’
‘Oh I know, it is lovely round here, especially in the spring. Are you staying with your family Maya?’
‘No, they have no room…I have rent rooms, it’s nice…pretty garden.’
‘Oh that’s good, is it near here?’
‘Not too far, on other side of woods…not long to walk, keep me slim,’ she finished with a smile. Helen raised her eyebrows, if she got any slimmer she would fade away.
‘Well that seems fine Maya, when can you start? I was thinking that maybe you could do a couple of hours every morning if that’s ok with you?’
Maya’s smile got even wider if that was possible, ‘Oh thank you Helen, I come tomorrow… early?’
‘That would be great,’ said Helen as she rose and showed the young woman to the door. Maya left with a smile and a wave and Helen felt very pleased with her morning’s work. She looked at her watch, ’Oh blimey I had better get going if I am going to get to Hastings by two!’ She headed for her coat by the door, then she stopped, ‘But not before I’ve had a last minute wee,’ she said out loud and waddled back down the hall to the loo.
CHAPTER 9 - MAGGIE
Maggie threw the letter down in disgust. She hadn’t heard from her ex-husband Greg for ages, and then he has the cheek to send this!
Apparently he had now decided after all these years that some of the furniture in her home in fact belonged to him, just because it was given to both of them by his parents. Maggie was furious; she had loved Greg’s parents and they had adored her. And she had always felt a great sentimental attachment to the beautiful, but enormous, old kitchen table and chairs that they had passed on to her and Greg, when they had reluctantly moved from their beautiful family home and into a smaller but more practical bungalow. She had treasured memories of sitting at that table for cosy cups of tea with Judy, Greg’s larger than life mum. Judy had always had time to listen to her problems, and she never failed to find the humour in most of them, comforting her with laughter. And Geoff, Greg’s dad, who was as lean as Judy was round. A serious man with bushy grey eyebrows, that would be raised in dry humour as he listened to ‘his two girls’ as he called Maggie and Judy while they gossiped and debated, often putting in an provocative comment here and there. Usually to tease his wife who would take the bait every time ensuring a lively argument.
And then there were the memories of the boys when they were tiny, being fed and changed on that table, with grandma and grandpa cooing over them. Or Judy’s famous dinner parties to which she seemed to invite the entire neighbourhood, and with dish after dish of sumptuous food on offer, no one ever refused and invitation. But some of the memories of that table were more poignant, memories of passion. Coming home from an evening out with friends; Greg as eager for her as she was for him, ripping clothes… plates and debris swept to the floor as they came together almost uncontrollably. So strong was their need for each other, over, under, and indeed on top of that very table.
Greg’s parents had died a few years earlier, within a year of each other. Judy had been diagnosed with a brain tumour and was gone within a few months, and Geoff had simply faded away. That was the only way to describe it; he died almost exactly a year later.
Greg had been devastated; it was all Maggie could do at his father’s funeral not to run over and hold him to her. But his new wife and son were with him; and she had to concentrate on her two sons who were equally distraught. All of this had happened a few years after her divorce from Greg and she had still been nursing the wounds of that. The death of Greg’s parents had nearly pushed her over the edge.
Maggie had always had a difficult relationship with her own parents. Her Mum was oober glamorous, having been a very successful model in her youth and running a modelling agency when her own career had waned. And her father was a leading light in the world of physics; lecturing all over the world. So Maggie and her sister Ruth had been looked after mainly by various nannies when they were young, and then eventually they had both been boarders at a very exclusive school in Sussex. Only seeing their high flying parents during the school holidays, when they would be escorted to where ever in the world they happened to be working at the time. Maggie certainly wasn’t complaining, she knew she had had a very privileged childhood. She had been to some of the most glamorous places, and counted celebrities and royalty amongst her friends. But she had never had a chance to form a close bond with either of her own parents and Greg’s down to earth mum had immediately gathered Maggie to her ample bosom and loved her like a daughter.
And now Greg was demanding the table and chairs and a rather beautiful water colour by a local artist that Judy and Geoff had bought them for their tenth wedding anniversary. ‘Well he can bloody fight me for them,’ thought Maggie savagely. She knew she was being sentimental but those things were all she had left of her surrogate parents and she wasn’t giving them up! Certainly not to decorate Greg’s new home which he shared with the tramp and her off spring!
She felt like calling him right now and telling him where he could stick his letter, but she knew he was at football this evening with Dom and Jed and she didn’t want to let them see any unpleasantness. She’d wait until the morning when she’d had a chance to cool down. She tried to put the letter out of her mind, and sat down to watch some telly. ‘New Tricks’ was on which exactly suited her mood, nice easy to watch TV. But soon her eyelids began to droop. One minute Dennis Waterman was sneaking outside the office for a fag, and the next Jeremy Paxman was annihilating some unfortunate stuttering politician on a late night news show, and Maggie’s mobile phone was ringing. Half asleep, Maggie hunted round for her phone which had slipped down behind a cushion, it was Greg. Maggie glanced at her watch it was gone eleven, the boys should have been home a while ago, she answered the phone with a grunt.
‘Maggie? Is that you?’ said Greg somewhat urgently down the phone.
‘What is it you want Greg? I’m not up to arguing with you about furniture right now, although you definitely have a fight on your hands. Did you think I would just roll over and hand over my last links with your parents…bloody hell Greg I loved them too you know!’
‘Maggie…Maggie will you just shut the fuck up and listen.’ Greg was almost shouting, Maggie went quiet.
‘There’s been an accident…’
‘Oh my god the boys…not the boys Greg…please don’t tell me….’
‘Maggie SHUT UP! Jed’s been hurt…he um well he was knocked to the ground during the match…hit his head. We thought he was ok you know just messing around like he does. But he didn’t get up and then we realised he was completely unconscious, so we called an ambulance…’
‘Ok I’m on my way…’ Maggie didn’t need to hear anymore, just pausing to grab her bag and keys she was out of her house and driving down the lane towards the hospital within minutes.
Driving was hard because of the tears in her eyes and the shaking of her hands. Jed, her beloved Jed, was lying in the hospital unconscious. She had to stop herself from gagging…she could not lose him, her baby, she would not lose him. She had no idea
of how she had made it to the hospital in one piece, but soon she was pushing through the double doors that led to the A&E dept. She knew where to go; she had brought the boys in here enough times when they were little. The waiting room was fairly empty; apart from a young man wearing a rugby kit and an enormous plaster on his head and a mother trying to sooth her baby that was red in the face with screaming. She went over to the glass fronted reception desk. The woman behind the glass barely looked up at her.
‘Hi, my son was just brought in by ambulance I’m not sure where…’
‘Name,’ said the unsmiling receptionist, whose name badge said Wendy Hutchins and had a smiley face on it.
‘Wendover, Maggie Wendover.’
‘Not your name, your son’s name,’ she said irritably. Really somebody should report that badge to the trades description board.
‘Jed,’ said Maggie trying to keep her cool, ‘Jed Wendover.’
‘Through the double doors and straight down to the end, he’s in bay number 8.’ On another day Maggie would have had a lot to say about the totally unsympathetic way that she had been treated, but tonight all she could think about was her baby.
She found him behind a blue and white striped curtain surrounded by people. He looked small and vulnerable, and apart from a large gash on his forehead he could be sleeping. Dom spotted her first and came rushing over to her enveloping her in a hug. ‘He’s going to be ok Mum, I’m sure he is…you know Jed he’s as tough as old boots…’
‘What the hell happened, I don’t understand?’ said Maggie tearfully to Greg, who came wandering over as she disengaged herself from Dom. He squeezed her arm, ‘Fuck knows sweetheart, one minute he was up near the goal playing a blinder; then he crashed into this giant of a defender. They both went down …but Jed didn’t get up. Looks like the other guy’s elbow ended up colliding with his head. We all thought he was joking at first; you know making a meal of it, but when he was still down after a couple of minutes I started panicking and I called an ambulance, and then you.’