Stories From The Heart

by Amanda Prowse

  It was nearly nine o’clock. Jackie clicked the lamp on and ran her bitten nails along her teeth.

  A Girl Is Found

  Neil flicked the indicator and eased the van into the lay-by behind the all-day breakfast caravan and its oversized Union flag fluttering in the breeze. A large whiteboard was propped by the open hatch: the menu advertised numerous fried breakfast combinations. His mobile flashed from its plastic cradle on the dashboard. He took several calls a day on his hands-free set; it was usually the control room issuing new jobs, pick-ups within a short drive of the postcode in which he found himself. His day was without routine, he lived at the mercy of clothes manufacturers whose samples needed to get to buyers, householders who derived a good income from eBay, shipping all manner of junk across county borders, and retailers without their own logistics operations. This call, however, was not one he wanted to take whilst navigating roundabouts and traffic lights. It was DS Gavin Edwards.

  ‘This a good time, Neil?’

  ‘Yes, just pulled over. Everything okay?’ Neil’s breath came in short bursts, as it always did when Gavin called him. The excitement and expectant flip of his stomach that had been there in the first days of Gemma’s disappearance was now replaced with a nervous bile, as if the news he was dreading was about to hit his brain. His hands shook against the steering wheel and he was sweating.

  ‘Where are you, Neil?’

  ‘Just off the A13.’

  There was a pause. Neil held his breath, waiting. Please God, no. Please let her be safe.

  ‘I haven’t contacted Jackie, thought it best to speak to you first.’

  Neil nodded, forgetting that he was on the phone.

  ‘Can you meet me at Queen’s Hospital?’

  ‘Queen’s? Yes of course. Is it Gemma? Have you found her, is she okay?’

  He heard Gavin’s sharp intake of breath, pictured him at his desk in his grey suit, pinching the bridge of his nose as he had seen him do several times before when concentrating.

  ‘There’s no easy way to say this, Neil.’

  Oh God, oh no, Oh God, please no, not my little girl.

  ‘But we’ve found a body.’

  Neil opened the van door and was instantly sick on the ground. He remained hunched over long after his stomach had emptied itself, staring at the watery splat and wanting to stay there forever, not wanting to move or face what came next.

  ‘Jesus, mate! Some of us are trying to eat – you fucking twat!’

  Neil looked up at the two men in high-vis jackets, chomping on bacon butties and holding scalding Styrofoam cups of strong tea. They shook their heads in his direction. He didn’t have the strength to respond.

  The three men walked abreast along the wide corridor. Neil was conscious that his rubber-soled steel-toe-capped boots were squeaking with every step, heralding his presence. He wished he was wearing different shoes, like Dr Mitchell’s or Gavin’s, whose walk was stealthy in comparison. They walked a little too quickly, all three very keen to get the episode over with, for very different reasons. Neil could only think ahead to going home and telling Jackie. He started to rehearse the phrases in his head, not sure which he would choose, all sounding equally horrific, surreal.

  ‘Oh, Christ, please give me the strength.’

  ‘You okay?’ Gavin placed a hand on his back.

  Neil was perplexed, unaware that he had spoken out loud.

  The trio stopped at an innocuous-looking door. The doctor gave him a brief flicker of a tooth-hiding smile, consolatory.

  Neil exhaled. The idea of entering a mortuary was abhorrent to him. He didn’t know what to expect and his gut heaved in nervous anticipation. He felt sick and confused. He exhaled again, trying to calm his pulse.

  Gemma had spent a night at Queen’s three years ago, when she’d broken her arm; it felt like minutes ago. And now here he was in the basement, a section of this disinfected building he had never considered before. A building where misery and joy, the entire human condition, was spread over eight linoleum-covered floors.

  He had never seen a corpse before. His stomach knotted and he swallowed the nausea that swept his body.

  ‘You okay?’ Gavin asked for the second time.

  Neil nodded. No one commented on the lie: he was far from okay. He thought of the day she was born, the moment he had been handed the tiny, wrapped, bloodied bundle. He had loved her, instantly and without measure; his little girl.

  He stepped inside behind the doctor. His tongue stuck to the dry roof of his mouth, his vision blurred and his heart threatened to leap from his chest. The desire to run was strong. He swallowed, his breath coming in odd bursts. His eyes were drawn to the sheet-covered body.

  He walked hesitantly towards the bed in the middle of the room. Neil was trembling, his limbs jerked involuntarily. His stomach muscles were tightly clenched.

  Dr Mitchell held the edge of the cloth in his hands and hesitated. ‘Are you ready?’

  Neil nodded.

  The doctor pulled the sheet away from the face and stood back.

  Neil glanced at her face and looked away, only able to take small glimpses. She looked cold, her complexion bluish grey. He let his eyes follow the line from the soft brow, over the eyelids, along the nose and mouth. An ugly cut severed the colourless top lip on one side, which butterfly stitches did their best to hold together. The skin looked smooth, she reminded Neil of a mannequin. Her hair was matted on the crown and thick with clots of dark blood that was black and treacle-like.

  Neil shook his head. ‘It’s not Gemma.’

  Outside in the corridor, Neil leant against the wall, battling with the new image that would haunt his thoughts in the restless early hours, but also struggling with the shame at the sense of disappointment that engulfed him. He had wanted it to be over.

  He cried. For only the second time since Gemma’s disappearance, he cried.

  ‘Could… could you get her a pillow? I know my girls are much comfier with a pillow.’

  ‘Sure, mate.’ Gavin patted his back. ‘Someone will sort that out.’

  Neil was late home, not that it mattered: things were exactly as he had left them that morning. The cold, silent, semi-dark rooms where his wife sat on the sofa, a fretful sentinel with one eye on the front door and an ear cocked for the telephone; and Stacey in her bed. He hated the way Jackie’s body twisted towards the door and her hand flew to her breast every time his key was placed in the lock. He sometimes thought it would be easier not to go home at all, spare them all the disappointment.

  ‘Any news?’ This was her standard, futile greeting. Both knew that if there were any developments, he would not wait until he got home before putting her out of her misery.

  ‘No, love.’ He shook his head and placed his hands on his hips. ‘No news.’

  She rose to seek out the brief respite of her bed, where, if she was lucky, she might sleep for an hour or so.

  ‘Don’t forget to leave the lamp on.’

  Again he nodded. It was the same instruction she gave every night, afraid that Gemma might not be able to find her way in the dark.

  Jackie turned from the doorway and stared at her husband as he sank down onto the sofa. ‘I’m worried you’ve given up on her, Neil.’ She panted, open-mouthed, as if the effort of getting the words out had left her physically exhausted.

  Neil shook his head slightly, blinking, gathering his thoughts.

  Jackie stepped forward, back into the room, her fingers fidgeting against her face, hooking inside her mouth, pushing her front teeth. ‘Because if you’ve given up on her…’ She paused, trying to properly phrase what she had to say. ‘I… I don’t think I could cope.’

  It took him a second to realise he was sobbing. It felt strange, embarrassing. This was something he usually did in private, as if it was shameful. Jackie felt something akin to relief at the sight of his tears. She placed the pads of her fingertips against his cheek and gently tapped the wet stubble. Neil caught her wrist and placed her f
lat palm over his mouth, pushing a kiss against it. The hand onto which he had slipped a thin gold band and from which he had lifted not one but two perfect tiny newborns. When his words came, they were barely more than a whisper. Jackie had to lean close to hear him.

  ‘I loved her from the first moment I saw her. That very second you put her into my arms, I swore that I’d never let her down and that I’d look after her and keep her safe.’ He paused to swallow the next wave of tears that clogged his throat. ‘I see her every waking second and she is in all of my dreams, always just a little bit out of reach. I will only give up on her when we reach the end, whatever that is, but not until then, Jacks, not until it is over. Do you understand me?’ He gripped her wrists a little too tightly.

  She nodded. Yes, she understood.

  The Unbearable Truth

  It had been nearly five months since Gemma’s disappearance. For Jackie and Neil it felt simultaneously like a lifetime and a matter of weeks.

  Stacey leant around the fridge door. ‘We haven’t got any milk or butter, or juice or bread.’

  She looked across the kitchen at her parents, who seemed fixated by the kettle. Her mum was wearing sweat pants that she had bought when she was fat; they now hung off her tiny frame. Her dad still had his pyjama top on under his jumper. They reminded her of zombies.

  ‘I’ll pop out later, Stacey.’ Neil smiled. It was his new smile, the one where his mouth flicked up but his eyes forgot to crinkle.

  The phone made them all jump. As usual there was a split second when they all looked at each other. Was this it? The call they had been waiting for? The call they prayed would never come? The call they expected and dreaded in equal measure? This expectant dread usually lasted for a second or two, until the caller was revealed as a family member or someone selling something they didn’t want and couldn’t afford.

  Neil pulled the phone from its cradle and nodded into the receiver. His wife and daughter watched as his legs seemed to buckle under him and he swayed.

  ‘What, Neil? What is it?’ Jackie started to question him while he was still listening to the words on the other end of the phone.

  He held the mouthpiece against his chest as the strength finally left his legs. He slid down the kitchen wall until he was huddled in the corner.

  ‘That was Gavin.’

  ‘What? What did he say?’ Jackie twisted her T-shirt against her throat.

  ‘They’ve got her. She’s at the police station. They’ve got her.’

  Jackie lurched forward and fell onto her husband. ‘Oh my God! Oh, Neil! Oh my God! I don’t believe it. I’d nearly given up, I had! Oh my God. Let’s go, let’s go! Come on!’

  She moved quicker than he had seen her move in months as she gathered up the van keys and raced out of the front door.

  ‘Come on!’ she shouted back up the hallway.

  Stacey and Neil followed her outside and into the sunshine.

  ‘I’ve already washed and changed her bed linen; I did that last week, that’s weird isn’t it? As if I knew, cos I haven’t done it for weeks! Her pyjamas are all fresh as well. I expect she’ll want a good rest, won’t she? We’ll get her tucked up.’ Jackie babbled through her tears with excitement and nerves.

  Neil wasn’t sure how to play it. He had tried not to plan for this moment, hadn’t wanted to tempt fate. ‘We’ll have to see how she is, Jacks, take it slow.’

  ‘Take it slow? How much slower can we take it? We’ve been waiting for nearly six months!’ She clapped her hands together.

  ‘I know, love, but you need to calm down a bit. We don’t know what she’s been through or how she is.’

  ‘Don’t!’ Jackie held her hand up. She couldn’t bear to think of those details, not yet. First she wanted to get her home and then they would deal with what they had to deal with.

  ‘I’ll have to stop off on the way home and get some food in. I’ll get her some soup and apple juice, all her favourite little bits and pieces.’

  ‘God, there’s been none of my favourite food in for months and Gemma appears and you are already getting her special treats in – it’s not fair!’ Stacey piped up from the back seat.

  Neil and Jackie looked at each other and laughed. It was the first time they had laughed in a very, very long time. It felt good. He reached across and squeezed his wife’s sculpted thigh beneath his fingertips.

  Detective Sergeant Gavin Edwards and Detective Constable Melanie Vincent stood side by side in the foyer of Romford police station, waiting for the Peters family.

  Jackie rushed through the main door, speaking as she entered. ‘Where is she?’

  Neil wasn’t far behind her. He grasped Gavin’s hand in a handshake. ‘Thank you. Thanks, Gavin, for everything.’ He beamed. ‘Where is she?’

  ‘Come this way, guys.’ Melanie walked ahead and stopped at a bank of chairs set along the wall of a corridor. ‘You can wait here, Stacey, okay?’

  Stacey shrugged and sat in the middle chair, crossing her outstretched legs at the ankle. She pulled her phone from the pocket of her hoodie and ignored the rest of the party as they sidled past and into an empty interview room.

  Jackie and Neil sat on the two chairs opposite the police officers. Over the last few months the line between law enforcers and friends had become smudged.

  ‘I’m so excited! I can’t believe it. Where is she?’ Jackie fidgeted in her seat, grinning.

  The two officers had never seen Jackie so animated.

  ‘I need you to calm down a bit, Jackie.’ Gavin gave a brief smile.

  ‘You’re the second person to say that to me!’ Jackie nudged her husband.

  Gavin looked at Melanie, nodding slightly, handing her the reins.

  Melanie sat in the chair on the other side of the table. She linked her fingers and placed them in front of her, looking more formal than she ever had in their little lounge in Ennerdale Close.

  ‘We have all worked hard, waiting for this day, Jackie, you know that.’

  Jackie nodded, still beaming. ‘Yes, and we are so grateful, Mel, really grateful!’

  ‘We have found Gemma and she appears unharmed.’

  ‘That’s wonderful! Thank you, thank you so much,’ Jackie interjected. Neil was starting to ask himself the obvious question. If she’s unharmed, then where has she been and who with?

  ‘We found her living in a flat in Paddington, with three other occupants. One of them is a man called Vassili Salenko; is that a name you know?’

  They both shook their heads.

  ‘The flat was raided on an unrelated matter and we found Gemma, going by the name of Jemima.’

  ‘He must have taken her, that Vladimir or whatever his name is,’ Jackie jumped in. Her smile had faded. Her chest heaved.

  ‘Here’s the thing,’ Gavin cut in, his words coming slowly. ‘I have spoken to Gemma at length and she is adamant that she went with him of her own accord.’

  ‘What? Why? I don’t understand.’ Jackie shook her head as her eyes squinted in confusion.

  ‘We’re still not sure.’ Gavin’s tone was restrained.

  ‘He’s just making her say that! She’s a schoolgirl, for God’s sake!’ Neil couldn’t hide the edge of aggression in his voice.

  ‘Possibly.’ Gavin tried to throw the man a rope.

  ‘You know what,’ Neil stood and raised his palms, ‘It doesn’t really matter right now, who did what and who went where, we are just bloody glad to have her back. So if we can get her home, let her have a bit of a rest and then we’ve got all the time in the world to sort out what happened. You can talk to her to your heart’s content, but we just want to get her back.’

  ‘I’m afraid it’s not that straightforward, Neil.’

  ‘What d’you mean, not that straightforward? Course it is! Now if you could please just let us have our daughter back!’

  ‘She doesn’t want to see you.’ Gavin looked away, having delivered the cruellest blow.

  ‘Don’t be silly, Gavin, of course she d
oes!’ Jackie spoke to him as if he were a child.

  Melanie stepped in. ‘I’m sorry, Jackie, but she doesn’t.’

  Neil sank back down into the chair and both sat in silence, trying to digest the information.

  Jackie spoke to her lap. ‘He’s brainwashed her or something. Why wouldn’t she want to come home?’

  Melanie swallowed the memory of her interview with Gemma. ‘You have put them through hell, Gemma. They are nice people, would it hurt to give them one quick telephone call?’

  ‘Can I just see her, please, Mel? Please.’

  Melanie hated the way Jackie was almost begging. ‘She’s not actually here, she’s at Paddington Green, but they can only hold her for so long.’

  Jackie placed her head in her hands and sobbed. ‘I don’t understand. I don’t understand any of it.’

  Neil rubbed her back as he tried to order his own thoughts.

  They collected Stacey and the three of them made their way towards the van.

  ‘Neil?’ Gavin called from the top of the steps.

  Neil walked back up to talk to him.

  ‘This breaks just about every rule and if you tell anyone, anyone at all, I’ll be in serious shit, but here is a mobile number for Gemma.’

  Neil took the scrap of paper and pushed it into his jeans pocket. ‘Thank you. Is it as bad as it sounds, Gavin?’

  He looked into Neil’s eyes. ‘Salenko is a nasty piece of work.’

  ‘How the hell has my Gemma got mixed up with someone like that?’ Neil asked, not expecting a reply.

  He walked back to the van feeling exhausted and beaten. They drove home in silence, not bothering to stop and pick up food.

  Jackie would not have believed that it was possible to sink any deeper into despair, but this was a whole other level of sadness and confusion. She was gripped by a numbness that left her feeling blind and deaf, unable to see, hear or communicate with the outside world. She climbed the stairs and lay on top of the freshly laundered duvet on Gemma’s bed, unable to cry, unable to sleep.