‘Did she say anything about Malcolm?’
‘She didn’t text or email again. It was only this other person. I blocked the number in the end but then notes were shoved through the door. On their own to start with, then with dog turds, razor blades, syringes. I mean it was sick. There are kids in the house. I called the police then, but they couldn’t do anything. She’d left of her own accord and I had no way of finding out who was threatening me. I guessed it was the man she’d gone off with.’
‘How do you know she went off with a bloke? She might have been kidnapped.’
‘I went through her old emails. He’d been chatting her up. Over time it was clear she’d grown fond of him. He was offering her the world with knobs on.’
‘What was his name?’
‘Didn’t use his name, only his initials. LB, I think. I don’t remember any Malcolm.’
‘He’s been using various names,’ Steve said.
‘So that was it, the police wouldn’t help you?’
‘They called it a domestic. No crime had been committed. If I found out who was dropping rubbish through my letter box they could go and have a word, but that was it.’
‘Do you think it was Malcolm?’
‘I know it was now. Since Paula…’ he blinked. ‘They’ve taken her computer, traced emails to a phone in his name.’
I went to the window as a woman walked past with a Labrador. It was a quiet, normal street.
‘I don’t understand why she would lie about not having children,’ Nathan said.
‘Because it’s a scam. Malcolm’s up to something with those babies. I dread to think what.’ Steve wiped his mouth with the back of his hand as if he’d just spat out something bad.
‘What she’s done it’s… it’s nothing like the woman I know… knew. That I loved. Paula was kind, thoughtful. She loved children and was a good mother. Those boys are broken without her.’ His hollow eyes latched onto mine. ‘Do you think she loved this man, is that what it’s all about?’
‘I couldn’t say. Sometimes they seemed to be easy in each other’s company and other times…’ I brushed my hand on Steve’s fingers, ‘sometimes she seemed scared of him.’
‘Go on.’ His eyes grew wild-looking as though he hadn’t slept for days.
‘A couple of times, I had the feeling she was trying to tell me something, but Malcolm was always there watching her, and then this one time,’ I swallowed hard, ‘there were bruises on her wrist. I thought at first I’d imagined it.’
‘You think he was forcing her to stay? Maybe she had wanted to come home.’ He sat up straight, his eyes a little brighter. ‘I’d have forgiven her just about anything. Why didn’t she come home?’ He covered his eyes with his hand.
‘She had the twins to look after, remember?’ I said gently.
Steve’s phone buzzed. ‘Here, we’ve had a message from yet another woman on the forum.’ He flashed the screen at me.
‘Saying what?’
‘“This man is the intended father of my baby too. I’m booked in for a caesarean on Thursday.”’
‘Shit, get her number, we have to tell the police. They might be able to use her to catch him.’
Chapter Fifty-Six
We left Sarah and Paul’s in the morning, thanking them again for all their help, and arrived home at lunchtime. The phone rang as soon as we got in the door.
‘Charlotte, it’s Lucy from Bedford Radio.’
‘What do you want?’ I was tempted to put the phone down.
‘I heard the news, I’m so desperately sorry.’
‘Are you?’
Steve switched on the TV. I waved at him to turn it down.
‘Of course, we all are. We’d like to show you our support by doing a follow-up interview.’
‘You are joking?’
‘I know it’ll be incredibly hard for you, but we’re willing to pay generously, and I’m sure the publicity will go a long way to help your Twitter crusade.’
At that moment, a photo of me and Steve came up on the news.
‘Hang on, Lucy.’ I covered the mouthpiece.
‘The surrogate, Charlotte Morgan, and her husband, Steven Morgan, are the legal parents of the missing twins.’
The photo of the twins at the hospital, taken by the photographer the day after they were born, flashed up on the screen.
‘The babies were last seen alive on the fifth of December.’
I dropped the phone. Last seen alive. The words shook me. Steve told Lucy to call back later.
‘Charlotte Morgan acted in good faith, handing the newborn twins over to a couple she believed had struggled over many years to have a baby of their own.
‘Paula Bennett went missing from her family home fifteen months ago. Police are appealing for the man known by several names including Malcolm Stewart, Ian Turner and Peter Finch, to come forward. Members of the public are advised not to approach him. It is believed he has fathered several other babies with women he met on an unregulated surrogacy forum. This case throws a spotlight on the inadequate surrogacy law in the UK. Charlotte has started her own campaign on social media and is fast gaining support from an array of well-known faces and members of the public.
‘Police ask for anyone who has information about the missing baby boy and baby girl to please get in touch with Bedfordshire police. The number is on the screen. Anonymous calls can be made to the National Crime hotline.’
I hugged Alice, kissing each of her fingers and toes, rocking backwards and forwards. ‘We have to pray for your half-brother and -sister, little one.’
The photo of Brenda with her real husband and their teenage sons had become permanently imprinted on my brain. Why pretend to be childless? Why say she’d had all those miscarriages? So many lies. They’d played on my sympathy, preyed on my kindness, used my body. The tight knot in my stomach wouldn’t shift. There was something so sick about what they’d done. They’d seemed genuinely pleased when I became pregnant. But I fell for it. Would they have cared if I’d died? Had any part of their relationship been real or had that been fake too? The Brenda I thought I knew wouldn’t have been capable of hurting the babies, but how well had I really known her? Could she have hurt them and Malcolm killed her because of it? Not according to Nathan. His Paula was a kind, loving wife. But he hadn’t guessed she’d do this to him.
A loud banging on the front door gave me a start. Steve looked through the spyhole and pointed to the right, which meant it was Dan and Carly, back from their holiday in Spain.
‘Oh my god, you poor things.’ Carly rushed in and gave me a hug. I breathed in her Parma violet scent. There was something so comforting about it, I didn’t want to let her go. Her newly dyed blue hair made me smile, if only for a second.
‘I don’t know what to say, mate,’ Dan slapped Steve’s arm and they half body hugged. ‘There’s a shedload of reporters outside.’
‘Shit.’ Steve shut the kitchenette window and pulled the blind down.
They sat with us round the TV while we watched the same two reports over again.
‘There must be something we can do to help,’ Carly said when the adverts came on.
‘Could do with some food if you don’t mind going to the shop?’
‘Yeah, course.’
I wrote a short list and gave them some cash. While they were out, I returned Lucy’s call and agreed to the interview if she came to the house. I had to do something. Getting my story out there might help someone. She said she’d come over the next morning.
Steve searched all the news feeds online, hoping for an update. We thought we might have heard back from the police by now.
Dan and Carly returned with the shopping and hot burgers and chips. The aroma made me feel hungry, for the first time in days.
‘One of the reporters wants to do a story on you for their weekend magazine.’ Dan handed me a piece of paper with a name and a mobile number. I stared at the scribble, wondering how my life had come to this.
&nbs
p; * * *
In the morning, I took Alice up to Jean’s flat. She welcomed me with a warm hug.
‘How are you doing?’ she asked, taking Alice’s hand.
‘I’m overwhelmed with everything that’s happened, but I thought talking to Lucy again would help someone else.’
‘You’re being so brave. I’ll be listening. And don’t worry, Alice will be fine. We’re going to stay indoors and play, aren’t we, poppet?’
Alice nodded.
‘Thank you.’ I hugged Jean again, then knelt down and kissed Alice’s hands. ‘Bye bye, sweetheart, see you in an hour or so.’
Lucy arrived at 10 a.m.
‘How are you?’ Lucy asked, handing me a bunch of yellow roses. It seemed a strange thing for her to do. I invited her in.
‘I’m… all right. As long as I keep busy.’ I rushed over to the sofa to straighten up the cushions. ‘Many out there today?’
‘Loads of paps and reporters. They saw the radio signage on my car, I’m afraid.’
‘They’re going to hear this anyway, aren’t they?’
Lucy nodded. Where was all her usual pomp and drama? A part of me wanted it back, so we could act this out, pretend it wasn’t real.
‘Are you okay, you look a bit pale,’ I said, looking at her properly.
Lucy’s smile twisted into a strange shape. She dug deep in her bag, sniffing all the while and pulled out a packet of tissues. Was she crying?
‘I… I’m actually pregnant myself, only twelve weeks, but everything is making me cry, especially to do with babies. And this story. Your twins…’
‘Oh, Lucy, I’m really pleased for you. I was the same, it’s hard not to get emotional about everything. Let me get you a cup of tea.’
I switched on the kettle and allowed myself a little smile. She wasn’t so bad after all.
I brought our drinks over. She took out her notes and wired up a mic to her recorder. After a little intro, she asked me to update the listeners on the situation since Brenda’s death.
I told her I couldn’t talk about the ongoing investigation, but I said we’d driven to Sheffield to meet the old school friend, Zoe, and then Brenda’s real husband, Nathan. I didn’t mention the surrogate who was about to hand over her baby. I expected the police had been in touch with her by now.
‘And I see your campaign is going strong on Twitter. What are your next plans?’
‘I’d like other surrogates to come forward and tell their stories. Why they believe they need more protection in law. Sheila Day’s high-profile case hit the headlines only last year, but has anything changed? No. What are the government waiting for? A death? A trafficking ring to be uncovered?’
‘And remind us about the Day case, for listeners who aren’t familiar with it.’
‘Sheila gave her baby to the intended parents, but they didn’t keep in touch with her. She decided to pay them a visit to see how they were getting on and found they were living in squalor. The baby was undernourished, dirty and in a babygro so small, its toes were buckled.’ Images of Rose and Robert in this neglected state flooded my mind. My eyes welled up. I swallowed hard.
‘Did she report it to the authorities?’
‘Yes, of course, and all credit to them, they acted quickly and took the baby into care. The parental rights were stripped from the new parents. They were convicted of negligence, but the court wouldn’t let Sheila have the baby back. He was put up for adoption.’
‘What a tragic case. I understand she plans to appeal?’
‘I believe so.’
‘Do you have any theories as to why Malcolm was having babies with so many women?’
‘I can’t really comment. I don’t want to jeopardise the investigation.’
‘I understand, but there has been speculation in the press about a possible trafficking ring acquiring these infants.’
‘I can’t talk about what might or might not be the reason. The thought of any of it makes me sick to the stomach. These are innocent babies we’re talking about.’
‘I completely understand.’ Lucy blinked, her eyes watering again. ‘So, what are the main changes you’d like to see to the law on surrogacy in the UK?’
‘Well, the law hasn’t changed for over thirty years, since the first UK surrogate, Kim Cotton, in 1985. Surrogacy grew slowly until the internet took off and celebrities started being honest about using surrogates. Now it’s opened up to single people looking for someone to co-parent a child with, as well as more same-sex couples having families. Anyone can go on a forum right now and hook up with a stranger, agree to have a baby together, whether that is co-parenting, sperm donation or surrogacy, but neither side in a surrogacy transaction is protected by law. I thought I’d transferred my parenting rights to the intended parents. Fortunately for me, the document was fake, but usually that’s the only part of it that is legally binding. Couples come up with agreements which are sometimes pages long, but none of it holds any water in a UK court of law.’
‘Thank you, Charlotte. I’m sure, like me, our listeners feel more informed. I know from the comments we’ve been receiving that many of them remember the first surrogate story over thirty years ago. The law often takes a while to catch up with changing times. We wish you all the best in the search for your twins.’
‘Thank you for having me back on, Lucy.’
* * *
Dan and Carly came over in the evening, and we listened to the interview. I could hardly keep up with the tweets and retweets on Twitter. I noticed that an MP had reposted my tweet, saying how important it was to consider whether the existing law was enough to protect children from being trafficked. She’d even started following me. Perhaps I really could make difference. But there were even more tweets from trolls. I couldn’t help reading a few before blocking them.
@sweatyboy
You should be strung up selling your kids for loadsa cash #kidsforcash
@Monkfishpout
No way do you deserve those babies back! They should lock you up
@muthaf**ker
Your kids would be better off in care than with you #worstmuthaintheworld
I switched my phone to silent. These people didn’t understand.
‘Hey, look at this,’ Steve said, stooped over his phone. ‘There’s a reply from that woman on the forum. She’s admitted that her husband did go to a house in Peterborough. She’s given us the address. Says he followed Malcolm there. Decided to wait outside the tall gates because there were a couple of heavies with Malcolm. He didn’t want to risk confronting him on his own. He phoned her, she told him to come home but he wouldn’t. So she asked him for the address, told him to wait and see if her brother and his mates could come and help him. But she couldn’t get hold of her brother and when she tried to call her husband back, there was no answer. She never heard from him again.’
‘Really? Shit. Right, give it here.’ I took it from him. ‘We’re going there first thing in the morning.’
‘Are you sure?’ Steve sat forward in his seat.
‘Yes.’
‘I’ll come with you.’ Dan finished another can of beer.
‘Carly, would you be able to mind Alice for us?’ I asked.
‘Course. You sure it’s a good idea though? That man is dangerous.’
‘It’s a risk I’m willing to take.’
Chapter Fifty-Seven
At 5.30 a.m. Carly tapped on our door as arranged. She came and sat with a sleeping Alice, while we crept out before any reporters turned up. Steve and I jumped in the front of Dan’s work van. I typed the Peterborough address into my phone. Forty minutes.
‘It’s got high gates, according to Streetmap. Hopefully we won’t need to climb over.’ Steve gave a nervous laugh.
‘I’ve got a ladder in the back. Is the gate likely to be alarmed?’
‘Probably.’
‘Let’s stick to the plan of making out we’re delivering something,’ I said.
As we grew closer, I left a message for
Inspector Johnson, telling him the address we’d been given and that we were on our way there now.
When we pulled up a short distance from the house, it was still dark outside. Dan dipped the headlights. There were no street lamps down this end of the private cul-de-sac. All the houses were set back from the tree-lined road. Mostly oversized detached properties with large front gardens, double and triple garages. Dan leaned over the back of his seat and grabbed three caps and fleeces. They all had a red logo stitched on, Parcels To You, and mini go-fast stripes in yellow.
An early-morning commuter drove past, giving us a start.
‘The boxes full of packing foam are ready in the back. We’ll carry two each to the door. You both need to keep your heads down, make sure you’re hidden so when he opens the door he only sees me.’ Dan blew out a breath.
He wasn’t the only nervous one. My chest tightened. I pictured Carly back at the flat. What if Alice woke up early and wouldn’t stop crying for me? I took a deep breath and tried to focus on what we had to do.
‘Right, as soon as I get in, I’m going straight upstairs to look for the twins. You two need to keep whoever is downstairs distracted. Good luck.’ I high-fived each of them. My heart sped up to full throttle.
‘Let’s get him,’ Steve said.
Dan drove slowly up to the mock-Georgian-style house. The whole property was surrounded by an eight-foot wall with electronic gates to the front. There were no cars on the drive, but there was a triple garage to the right. Two lights were on downstairs. Was Malcolm working this early? If the babies were here, surely he’d need help looking after them.
Dan pressed the intercom buzzer. No answer. He pressed again, firmer this time.
‘Yes?’ A woman’s voice. Or was it a child? Foreign, maybe Chinese. Oh god, had we got the wrong house?
Someone Else's Baby Page 23