11
Geraldine was worried. It was rare for her personal life to distract her from her work, but she could not ignore the fact that something had gone wrong between her and Ian. Having been friends for many years and, as it turned out, both been secretly in love with each other for a long time, she had been confident they would prove compatible when they finally embarked on a relationship. For the past month they had lived together in harmonious companionship which she had believed was a deep and genuine love. She had almost been ready to invite him to move in with her, and disclose their relationship to all their colleagues. Now it seemed that their honeymoon period had been no more than a short-lived fantasy. Ian had abruptly stopped visiting her at home, and was virtually ignoring her at work. If she had not known him well, she might have suspected he was annoyed with her for hesitating to agree to his moving in with her. But their friendship was too well established for such games. If he was angry with her, he would have discussed his feelings, not avoided her in order to get back at her. She knew he would not abandon her lightly. Something was amiss.
On Saturday afternoon he had rushed away from the police station, muttering to Geraldine that he had to attend to some business and might be gone all night. She did not hear from him again that day. They had arranged to go out for Sunday lunch, so the following day she arrived at the pub, hoping to find him in better spirits. He wasn’t there. She waited for nearly an hour but he neither joined her nor answered her calls. She had been stood up by the man who had recently started spending the night at her apartment, but she knew Ian too well to believe he would ever willingly let her down. Undecided whether to be angry or apprehensive, she studied the menu, and ate on her own. She should have been used to her own company but, after just a few weeks living with Ian, the thought of returning to her independent lifestyle made her nervous. She hadn’t expected to lose Ian. Not yet, and not so suddenly. Not ever, if she was honest. She had not understood how lonely she was, until she had stopped being lonely. Now the prospect of living without Ian troubled her, like a physical ache.
Ian didn’t contact her on Sunday afternoon, nor did he come to her flat that evening. She waited up until late, and was growing really worried by the time he finally returned her call.
‘Ian, it’s nearly midnight. Where are you? What’s happened?’
‘I can’t explain right now. I only called because I don’t want you to worry. Everything’s fine.’
‘How can you say everything’s fine when you’ve gone off without a word, leaving me to –’
‘I’ll explain as soon as I can.’
‘Ian, what’s going on?’
‘It’s complicated.’
‘Ian, talk to me. I need to know you’re all right.’
‘It’s fine. I’m fine. Don’t worry.’
Before she could reply, he rang off. Clearly everything was far from fine, but she still had no idea what had happened. Helpless and miserable, she resisted the temptation to phone him back to demand an explanation. Instead, she went to bed and spent a restless night worrying about what might have happened to prompt this unexpected breakdown in their relationship, so serious that he wouldn’t even talk to her, when she had been confident that everything was going well between them. She could hardly believe she had been so wrong about him. She could not help recalling how she had felt there was something odd about Jason concealing his movements from Jessica. Geraldine had interpreted that as a sign of an unhealthy relationship. The suspicion that Ian was behaving in exactly the same way filled her with apprehension.
On Monday morning she arrived at work early hoping to speak to Ian on his own, but he wasn’t in his office. Eileen called a briefing and there was no opportunity to speak to him before the team gathered. When she saw him in the incident room, she was dismayed by how tired he looked. His face seemed more lined than she remembered it, and his eyes were slightly bloodshot. Once or twice she caught him looking at her without seeming to register who she was. His shirt collar was askew, and he was unshaven. Normally he was very careful with his appearance, and she suspected he had been drinking. With a horrible pang, it occurred to her that she might somehow be the cause of his wretchedness. Finally she managed to catch his eye, and a faint smile of recognition flickered across his face, as though he had only just noticed her and was relieved to see her.
Ariadne had been in charge of a team of constables looking for Jason. Her report was frustrating. Having booked the time off work, Jason had simply disappeared. It could be no coincidence that he had gone missing at the same time as the baby had vanished. The mood at the police station was generally slightly less sombre than it had been, as it seemed the baby must be with her father. But there remained the issue of the bloodstains in the cot, and not everyone was confident the baby was still alive.
Geraldine had no chance to speak to Ian before the briefing began but, as they were leaving the room, she caught up with him and asked to speak to him.
‘Yes, I need to speak to you,’ he replied, without meeting her eye.
‘Ian, what is it? What’s wrong?’ she demanded in a low voice, aware that they might be overheard in the corridor.
‘Not here,’ he muttered. ‘We can’t talk here.’
‘Let’s go to your office then.’
He shook his head. ‘No, we can’t talk now. It’s too complicated. It’ll take too long.’
‘Ian, what is it? What have I done to upset you?’
‘You?’ He turned to face her at last, looking surprised. ‘You haven’t done anything. Nothing at all. Please, don’t think this is anything to do with you.’
‘Of course it’s to do with me if you’re refusing to see me,’ she hissed furiously. ‘Tell me what’s wrong.’
‘Can’t you guess?’
‘I have absolutely no idea what’s going on,’ she replied. ‘And I’m not playing stupid guessing games. It’s time for you to be honest with me. This isn’t doing either of us any good. Please, just tell me what the problem is. I’m a grown woman. I can take it.’
Ian sighed. ‘OK,’ he said, ‘I’ll come to the flat this evening and we can talk there.’
He turned and strode away. With difficulty Geraldine quelled an impulse to run after him like a love-struck teenager. She was desperate to grab hold of him and force him to explain himself; only his devastated expression held her back. If he was making her unhappy, there was no doubt he was feeling at least as miserable as she was. In addition to pity, pride kept her from following him. She guessed that the problem had something to do with his divorce but, whatever had gone wrong in his life, she had a right to know. The more she thought about the situation, the more furious she became with him for refusing her the chance to show him that he could rely on her support whatever happened. He was being unfair to her in every way possible, but there was nothing she could do about it. She could not force him to share the truth with her, and she was definitely not about to make a scene at work. She would have to let him speak to her in his own time. Meanwhile, she went back to her desk, fearing the worst.
With a sigh, she tried to settle down to her morning’s work, but the memory of Ian’s pale, tired face haunted her. Wherever she looked, his weary eyes seemed to stare at her, alternately taunting her and pleading with her. At last she could bear it no longer and went to his office to confront him. He wasn’t there. She tried his phone but he declined to answer her call. She had no choice but to wait as patiently as she could until he came to see her that evening. She refused to consider the possibility that he might not turn up after he had said he would. But she was beginning to wonder if she had been a fool to believe that she had ever really known him at all.
12
Once again she was woken in the night by the sound of a baby crying. With a groan, Ella flung off her duvet and clambered out of bed. The walls of her apartment were thin, and she was often disturbed by noises from other people l
iving in the building. If it wasn’t babies crying, it was children shrieking or adults quarrelling. When they weren’t shouting at each other, she would hear her next-door neighbours’ television blaring so loudly it could have been in the room with her. The people living in the flat above her never seemed to wear slippers or trainers indoors, and she was convinced they stamped their hard heels on the floor deliberately, to ensure the sound reached her through the ceiling. But more often than not, the noise came from a teething and miserable baby in her own flat.
‘There, there,’ she soothed the fretful baby, picking her up and rocking her gently in her arms. ‘It’s all right, I’m here. Don’t cry, little one, don’t cry.’ In the same soft tone of voice she added, ‘Just shut the fuck up will you? You’re doing my head in. Just shut the fuck up, for fuck’s sake.’
The baby finally settled into a fitful sleep, but usually Ella barely had time to drift into a light doze before the crying started up again. The hours passed in a haze, until her whole life seemed to revolve around feeding, soothing, and nappy changing. Late that morning she was finally managing to doze when the doorbell rang. She tried to ignore it, but the caller was insistent. Swearing at the neighbour who was no doubt coming to harangue her about keeping her baby quiet at night, Ella dragged herself off the sofa where she had been resting, and shuffled towards the door.
‘What do you want?’ she called out crossly. ‘I’m trying to get some sleep in here. Is it a crime to want to sleep? I hardly shut my eyes once last night. Is it my fault the baby cries from time to time?’
‘Ella, it’s me, Jessica. Let me in.’
‘Oh, shit. Hang on.’
Fumbling to tie the cord of her dressing gown, Ella hurried to open the door. She forced herself to smile at her unwelcome visitor and put on a convincing show, pretending she was pleased to see her. For a few months they had been no more than casual acquaintances, but since her baby had gone missing, Jessica had been coming round to Ella’s lodgings more and more often. Jessica was so grateful to Ella for allowing her to hold the baby that she offered to pay her to help her out. She said she was doing it as a friend, but Ella knew she was only parting with so much money so that she could come and see the baby. Not for the first time, Ella cursed her own poverty that forced her to accommodate Jessica’s wishes.
‘Jessica, come in, make yourself comfortable. I’ll put the kettle on.’
‘No, please, don’t fuss. There’s no need. I don’t want anything. I just want to hold her,’ Jessica said.
For once, Lily was sleeping peacefully on a blanket on the floor.
‘How is she?’ Jessica asked.
‘She’s all right, but I wish she’d sleep better at night.’ On the point of launching into a rant about being kept awake all night, Ella glanced up and caught sight of Jessica’s expression. Stopping herself in time, she said, ‘She’s fine, really. I’m not complaining. I know how lucky I am to have her. I’m just tired and that makes me irritable. But I couldn’t be happier, really I couldn’t. In fact, I’m very happy with things as they are. So, how have you been? It must be so difficult for you.’
Jessica picked the baby up very gently, and held on to her as though she was never going to let go. Lily stirred in her arms and settled back to sleep as Jessica rocked her from side to side.
‘It’s awful,’ she admitted, with tears streaming down her cheeks.
The baby woke up and began to whimper.
‘Give her here,’ Ella said, ‘she must be hungry. If I don’t feed her soon, she’ll start yelling.’
‘I can do it,’ Jessica said eagerly. ‘Let me feed her.’
‘OK. I’ll go and get her bottle.’ At the door, Ella turned back. ‘It’ll be all right, you know. You just have to be patient and carry on believing that everything will work out. Babies don’t disappear forever.’
Jessica nodded. ‘I don’t know what I would have done without you,’ she said. ‘No one else understands.’
Ella grinned. ‘That’s what friends are for. I’ll go and get that bottle now.’
In the kitchen, Ella glanced around and quickly shut the door. Hurriedly grabbing a couple of empty beer bottles, she chucked them in the bin. Having shoved an empty cereal box on top of them she turned round. Spotting another empty bottle by the sink, she pushed it out of sight underneath the cereal box. Grabbing a full ash tray, she tipped the contents into the bin as well, thanking her lucky stars she hadn’t left it in the living room for Jessica to see. The kitchen stank of stale cigarettes. The tiny window was painted shut so she flapped a grubby tea towel, and wafted the reeking air around without lessening the smell. Having concealed her drinking and smoking as far as she could, she warmed the baby’s milk and took the bottle through to Jessica who was still sitting where Ella had left her, cradling the baby in her arms.
‘Here you are,’ Ella said, holding out the bottle.
‘Don’t make any noise,’ Jessica replied in a whisper. ‘She’s gone to sleep.’
That was hardly surprising. The baby lying so peacefully in Jessica’s arms must be exhausted after keeping Ella awake virtually all night, crying and whimpering, but Ella thought better of complaining. At least she still had a baby to wake her up at night, unlike Jessica. So she didn’t answer honestly, nor did she comment on how it must be wonderful for Jessica to be able to have a proper night’s sleep. Somehow that didn’t seem very tactful under the current circumstances, and Ella couldn’t afford to upset her visitor.
‘How are you coping?’ she asked quietly. ‘Are you all right?’
Jessica shook her head and a tear slid slowly down her cheek. ‘It’s been really awful,’ she admitted. ‘Sometimes I wish I’d never had her.’
‘Don’t say that,’ Ella replied. ‘You’ll have her back with you soon. You just have to be patient. It’ll all come right in the end. You have to believe that.’
Jessica seemed to want to stay there forever, staring at the baby lying in her lap, her face concealed by a veil of blonde hair. Ella sat watching in silence, too tired to ask her visitor when she might be thinking of leaving. At last Jessica stirred and handed the sleeping baby to Ella who took her to her cot in the bedroom without waking her.
‘You know it’s not a problem, you coming here like this,’ Ella said hesitantly.
Instead of offering her money, Jessica smiled and thanked her. She stood up to go.
‘I wouldn’t ask, wouldn’t even mention it,’ Ella said, ‘only I’m a bit short this week.’
‘Short?’ Jessica echoed, looking faintly puzzled.
Ella took the plunge. Jessica would be leaving soon, and there was no knowing when she might be back.
‘Money,’ Ella muttered. ‘I hate to ask but I’m skint.’
There was a slight hiatus. Ella held her breath. Jessica had pots of money and so far she had been almost unbelievably generous. Of course, she thought she was helping Ella out with supplies of milk and nappies – endless nappies – all for the baby, but that was only partly true. Jessica’s contribution meant Ella could afford more than her usual meagre fare, and Ella had begun to dread the day when her friend’s generosity ran out. This could be the moment when she shook her head and refused to part with another penny, and Ella was down to her last packet of cigarettes. But Jessica reached for her bag and took a fistful of notes from her purse. Ella tried not to gawp as Jessica counted out five twenty-quid notes and handed them over.
‘Is that enough?’ she asked.
When Ella hesitated, Jessica added another note. Somehow Ella resented her more than ever. She was loaded, without having done anything to deserve her good fortune. It wasn’t Jessica she hated so much as life that was so unfair. What had Jessica done to deserve all that? She had been born to a rich father, that was all. But Ella still had something Jessica didn’t have. Ella had her baby. Her face twisted in a smile as she pocketed the cash. Jessica rose to he
r feet, dabbed gingerly below her eyes so as not to smudge her make-up and took her leave, promising to return the next day.
As soon as the front door closed behind Jessica, Ella burst into tears of relief. She was not used to having visitors in her flat, and Jessica’s presence made her nervous. Ella did feel sorry for her friend, but she wished she wouldn’t come round so often. Sniffling to herself, she went to the kitchen for a drink and a smoke. With a lit cigarette in the corner of her lips, she screwed up her eyes against the thread of smoke rising into the stale air of the kitchen, and carefully hid the cash in a jar of tea leaves. Fortified with beer and nicotine, she checked all the doors were locked, before flopping down on the sofa. No sooner had she begun to doze than she was woken by the sound of a baby crying.
13
‘What is it?’ Anne asked. ‘What’s happened?’
He knew she was thinking about the baby. That was all she had been thinking about for days. He glared at her for a moment, too wound up to say a word.
‘It’s unspeakable,’ he spluttered at last. ‘They could have caused a serious accident. Jesus, someone could have been killed.’
‘David, what are you talking about?’
He sat down, feeling shaken, his anger giving way to what he could only assume to be some kind of delayed shock.
‘I’ll put the kettle on and then you’re going to tell me what’s happened,’ Anne fussed.
He shook his head. ‘No, no, not tea. Pour me a whisky.’
‘Are you sure?’
‘Are you deaf? I said pour me a whisky.’
Anne hurried to fetch his drink and he took a gulp before speaking. Holding the tumbler in the air, he gazed at the amber liquid through the glass.
‘What’s happened?’ Anne prompted him.
‘I’m telling you, they could have killed someone.’
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