The Escape

by C. L. Taylor

  ‘Are there any other bruises on her body?’ Dr McGrath asks as she wheels her chair back a little. ‘Anything else of concern that you’d like me to look at?’

  There’s a look in her eyes that worries me. She’s stopped smiling. Her gaze flicks from the top of my head to the scruffy winter boots on my feet as though it’s me she’s assessing rather than my daughter.

  ‘No,’ I say. ‘Just the bruising. It looks like someone grabbed her. Like fingerprints.’

  ‘Would you mind removing all of Elise’s clothing, just so I could have a quick look? You can keep her underwear on.’

  My hands shake as I help Elise out of her dress, vest and tights. I checked every inch of my daughter’s body after I spotted the bruises and I know there are no other marks but I’m still scared, terrified that she might find something awful that I’ve missed.

  Elise hops from foot to foot on the rough surgery carpet. Without clothes she looks tiny, all spindly arms and legs with a little toddler tummy. I might be terrified but she is more than comfortable dancing about in her My Little Pony pants.

  Dr McGrath crouches beside her and makes a game out of the examination, asking my child to show her arm, her ‘other arm’, her foot, her leg. If she notices anything unusual she doesn’t mention it. Instead she tells me that I can put Elise’s clothes back on.

  Once dressed, I carry Elise across the room to a big box of Duplo that’s been left out then hurry back to the doctor.

  ‘You didn’t answer when I asked about the bruises. Someone grabbed her, didn’t they?’

  Dr McGrath pauses, her fingers on her keyboard, and looks at me.

  ‘There are ten,’ I say, ‘two on her front, eight on the back. They’re grab marks. That’s why I woke up last night. Because Elise cried out. She hasn’t mentioned anything today but she rarely remembers when she wakes up in the night.’ Dr McGrath’s eyes flicker over my face. A small frown appears between her raggedy brows.

  ‘Other than the potential intruder, was Elise roughly handled in any way yesterday? You didn’t have to grab her for any reason? To protect her from injuring herself or falling or anything?’

  ‘No, nothing like that. I drove her from my friend’s house to her nursery then I met my solicitor, picked her up and took her home.’

  ‘And the nursery staff, they didn’t report any accidents or incidents to you when you picked her up?’

  ‘No, nothing. Alice, that’s Elise’s support worker, she commented on the fact she had a bit of a cold. But I knew that. She’s had it for a few days.’

  ‘And you only noticed the bruising today?’

  ‘Yes. I told you. There was nothing last night. I would have noticed when I got her ready for bed.’

  ‘Hmmm.’ She presses her lips together. ‘Are you OK to play with Elise for a few moments while I make a quick call?’

  ‘To the police?’

  ‘No, to the paediatric unit at the hospital. Nothing to worry about,’ she adds quickly. ‘I’d just like them to take a quick look at Elise.’

  ‘You agree with me, don’t you? You think Paula hurt her?’

  ‘Like I said, we just need to get her checked out.’ She gives me a tight smile then swivels round in her chair so her back is to me and reaches for her phone.

  Five minutes later she calls me back to her desk. I’ve been trying to listen in whilst building a fairy castle with Elise but she kept her voice low and I didn’t catch a word.

  ‘OK.’ She greets me a wide smile. ‘I’ll just go and get my coat and then I’ll drive you to the hospital.’

  ‘There’s no need. I’ve got my car.’

  Dr McGrath scratches the back of her neck and clears her throat. ‘No, no. I’ll take you. It’s … er … protocol.’

  ‘Protocol for what?’

  ‘For referrals to the safeguarding team. It’s really nothing to worry about.’

  ‘The safeguarding team?’

  ‘It’s just a precautionary measure. The team will look Elise over and answer any questions you’ve got. Are you OK to hang on here for a second while I just pop out quickly?’

  I look from Dr McGrath’s empty chair, to her computer screen, to my daughter – my tiny, defenceless, happy daughter, chatting away to herself as she builds a tower then laughing with delight as she smashes it back down. Paula hurt her. She let herself into my house with a stolen key then she climbed the stairs to Elise’s room and she watched her sleep. Then she grabbed her so violently that Elise cried out. What happened then? Was she so shocked she dropped her and ran? If I’d just walked in a few moments earlier I could have stopped her. I could have protected Elise.

  If the safeguarding team agree that Elise has been hurt then they’ll call the police and I’ll be taken seriously.

  But what if they think I hurt her?

  I try and mentally shake the thought away but it’s caught in my brain like a fishing hook. Mr Harrison told me that one of the things in my favour was the fact that there’s no evidence that I’ve ever hurt my daughter. There’s no sign of a break-in, nothing missing, nothing taken. Will they take fingerprints from the door handles? What if they don’t find any? What if the only fingerprints belong to me, Max and Helen? They’ll accuse me of hurting her. As soon as Max’s solicitor hears about it it’s all over. They’ll award him the interim residence order and take her away from me.

  I glance back at the computer screen. In her haste to get to her car Dr McGrath hasn’t logged out and I can see the last thing she looked at. It’s a note from Dr Fullerton on my medical record.

  Reports increased feelings of anxiety, mistrust and dread. Suffered a panic attack when she thought someone was staring at her. Said she ‘feels like she’s losing her mind’.

  Chapter 27

  I rush from room to room, yanking open drawers, rifling through boxes and loading my arms with clothes, toys, toiletries and paperwork. How many times have I done this now? Two, three? But I’m not packing for a weekend away this time. I have no idea when I’ll return to this house again. If I’ll ever return.

  I fill the two suitcases on top of the wardrobe, and three overnight bags, and, with nowhere to store Elise’s cot linen, I fill a bin bag too. Then I transport them all into the car and cram them into the boot, along with Elise’s buggy. Elise is back in front of the TV, distracted by Peppa Pig and a lolly I found in the back of a kitchen cupboard.

  I glance at my watch. 10.45 a.m. Half an hour since I fled from the doctor’s surgery with Elise in my arms. The receptionist gave me a startled look as I ran past her desk but there was no sign of Dr McGrath. I have no idea what the ‘protocol’ is for returning to your surgery to find that your patient has absconded with her daughter after you’ve recommended that they see a safeguarding team but I’m not going to take any chances. There’s a cruel irony that the police couldn’t be bothered to turn up to my house after someone ransacked it but they may well be on their way here now.

  ‘Max hasn’t once suggested that you have harmed your child or are likely to do so, and that’s important.’ That’s what Mr Harrison said. He didn’t spell out what it would mean for my case if he had but the implications were clear – you have a chance of winning this as long as you haven’t hurt your child.

  I need to ring him. But I can’t do it here, now, while I’m panicking.

  ‘All right, sweetheart.’ I hurry into the living room. ‘Mummy’s ready to go now. Come on then.’

  Elise whines in protest and snuggles into the corner of the sofa, her eyes still fixed on the TV. I turn it off and her whine instantly becomes a howl.

  ‘You can watch Peppa on your iPad in the—’ I break off, distracted by a thought. I haven’t packed our passports. They’re in the cabinet next to the fireplace.

  I crouch beside it and pull open the doors. As I do, my heart twists in my chest. There it is – the large wooden box, about the size of a shoebox, with ‘Henry William Blackmore’ carved into the top and his date of birth beneath it. Inside is a set of
hand- and footprints, a photograph, his first scan and the hat and blanket the midwife dressed him in after he was born. While other mothers left the hospital with their babies in a car seat, I left with nothing, nothing apart from those few things. For days, weeks, I wouldn’t be parted from them. I held the blanket in my hands during Henry’s funeral service and tucked his hat into my bra, close to my heart. Wherever I went, they went too. Then one day, when my grief had slowly cycled through to acceptance, Max suggested that we should buy something special to keep Henry’s things in. I went online and bought the most beautiful box I could find and paid to have it engraved. As I put his things inside I felt as though I was burying my son for the second time.

  ‘Peppa!’ Elise shouts now, her cheeks flushed and tear-stained. She reaches for the remote control and jabs at the buttons. ‘Peppa, Mummy!’

  A siren wails in the distance and I snatch at the small pile of passports lying beside Henry’s box and shove them into my back pocket. I reach for the box. It feels heavier than I remembered. As I slide it off the shelf Elise slides off the sofa and slaps at the buttons on the side of the 38-inch flat-screen TV, making it wobble precariously.

  ‘Come on, sweetheart.’ I tuck the box under my arm and reach for her hand. ‘Come on, love. Let’s go.’

  ‘I WANT PEPPA!’ she screams as I shepherd her out of the living room, down the hallway and out of the front door.

  I have to let go of her hand to reach into my pocket for the house key. As I turn it in the lock Elise thumps me on the leg. ‘GO WAY! I WANT DADDY!’

  I scoop her up with one arm and carry her, kicking and screaming, to the car and strap her into her seat. I reach into the boot and tuck Henry’s box beneath one of the black plastic sacks then retrieve Elise’s iPad from under my seat.

  ‘Here.’ I press a few buttons and hand it to her. ‘Look, Peppa!’

  ‘Don’t want it!’ She shoves it away.

  My phone rings as Elise continues to screech. It says number withheld on the screen. It has to be Mr Harrison ringing from his office. He said he’d give me a ring today. I jab the speakerphone button and answer the call.

  ‘Hello,’ I say, ‘Joanne Blackmore speak—’

  I’m cut off by the sound of a woman singing, her deep, rasping voice filling the car. I know who it is. I recognise the voice from the first word, but I’m so shocked I can’t speak.

  ‘Ladybird, ladybird, fly away home.’

  I jab at the end call button but I’m shaking so much my finger slips, missing it. Paula continues to sing, each word staccato and mocking.

  ‘Your husband has left you

  And now you’re alone.’

  ‘Go away!’ I jab at the end call button over and over and over again. ‘Leave us alone. Please, please just leave us alone.’

  ‘Mummy?’ comes a small voice from the back of the car. ‘I like that song. Sing it again, Mummy.’

  Chapter 28

  Max approaches his front door, key in hand. The skin on the back of his hand is swollen and sore from a futile attempt to defend himself. His face is a mess. His right eye is puffy and sealed shut, ringed red, black and brown. He touches the key to the lock then pauses. This is still his house but it is no longer his home. The life he knew two weeks ago – when he’d open the door, shout hello, then poke his head around the living-room door to see what Elise and Jo were up to – is over. Should he have fought harder to make his marriage to Jo work? But he had. He’d done everything he could to support her and make her feel safe and loved. She was the one who’d secretly planned to move to Chester, who’d threatened to never let him see Elise again, who disappeared at the drop of a hat, who’d got off her head in the middle of the day and left their daughter, urine-stained and crying, alone at nursery. Everything he’d done, everything he was doing, had been completely vindicated by the choices Jo had made and the things she’d done.

  There was no sign of either of them now. Nine o’clock at night, the house was in darkness and Jo’s car wasn’t parked in the street. Where is she? And, more importantly, where is Elise?

  Max’s heartbeat quickens as he turns the key in the lock and steps into the dark hallway. He flicks the light switch.

  ‘Hello?’

  No answer. Fear pricks at the base of his brain. Paula wouldn’t have attacked Jo and Elise, would she? But she’d sent someone after him. Last night, when he’d examined his split face in the hotel bathroom last night it wasn’t fear he felt, it was anger. Anger with Paula but, more powerfully, anger with himself. He should have taken Jo more seriously. Paula’s more dangerous than either of them thought. He has to protect his family. He has to make this stop.

  This morning, when he woke up in his hotel bed, his face throbbing with pain, his first thought was Elise. He snatched up his phone. 11.07 a.m. He blinked several times with his good eye. 11.07 a.m.? How had he slept so long? He called Jo. Her phone rang and rang and then went to voicemail. He ended the call at the beep. What should he say? He was going to tell her that Paula had beaten him up and that he was sorry, he should have taken her threats against Jo more seriously. Then what? Ask her to let him have Elise so he could protect her? She would have put the phone down on him.

  There was an alternative. Jo and Elise could go up to Chester for a while. They’d be safe up there, while he dealt with Paula. But Jo might refuse to ever come back if that happened. Although she’d have to return for the court case. Once the Paula issue was sorted he’d be able to offer his daughter a safe home and Jo could get the help she needed for her illness. But he couldn’t suggest all that on the phone. He needed to see his wife face-to-face. He needed to gauge how she was feeling before he said a word. He had to tread carefully.

  ‘Hello?’ Max says again, as he passes the empty living room and heads for the kitchen. He turns back. There was something about the living room that wasn’t quite right. Elise’s toy box lid is open, so are the doors to the cabinet in the corner of the room. He crouches down beside it and looks inside.

  It’s gone.

  Henry’s box is gone.

  He runs a hand over the space left behind, as though touching the smooth wood will somehow magically bring it back, and tries not to panic. Jo kept Henry’s things on a shelf in Elise’s room, then decided that it wasn’t the right place and moved it to the cabinet. Maybe she moved it back? Or into their room?

  He runs up the stairs, taking them two at a time, and bursts into the master bedroom. The doors to all the wardrobes are open. The chest of drawers too: knickers, tights and T-shirts hanging over the side and lying on a heap on the carpet, along with some of Jo’s costume jewellery. Both of her jewellery boxes are open, their contents gone. For a second he thinks they have been burgled but then he notices that the tops of both wardrobes are clear. All the suitcases and bags are gone.

  He runs into Elise’s bedroom but it’s a similar scene – clothes and toys gone, her pillow and duvet missing from her cot.

  He walks from room to room to room, his hands in his hair, gripping the roots. Jo hasn’t just taken a couple of items of clothing and a few toys for an overnight stay. She’s stripped the house of everything that ever held sentimental value for her. Almost everything. On top of the closed kitchen bin are her wedding and engagement rings.

  Chapter 29

  I thought you were going to fight back, Jo. After you pushed me, the other day, I wondered if, perhaps, you’d finally grown a backbone. But no, instead of staying and fighting you’ve run away. And you’ve taken something that belongs to me with you. I can just imagine you now – jumping at every dark shadow, flinching at every strange noise. Are you talking to yourself? Telling yourself that you’re overreacting, trying to keep up a pretence for Elise that everything’s fine. But everything’s not fine, is it, Jo? Deep down you know I’ll catch up with you. It’s inevitable. One day you’ll hear footsteps behind you. Your heart will race and you’ll look over your shoulder as you quicken your pace. And then you’ll see me.

  Chapter 3
0

  ‘Well?’ Helen says as I press the end call button on my mobile and place it in my lap. ‘What did your solicitor say?’

  Elise, playing on the living-room floor with her bricks, looks up and smiles. I tear my gaze away from her. ‘That I have to go back.’

  ‘Can you take her to a hospital here instead?’

  ‘No. I have to go back to Bristol. If I don’t they’ll seize her.’

  ‘Seize her? Jesus. He actually said that?’

  Mr Harrison didn’t sugarcoat his advice when I just rang him at home on his mobile. He said I’d made a huge mistake leaving Bristol instead of going to the hospital with Dr McGrath. The situation was already extremely serious, he said, and if I didn’t take Elise back there was a very real risk that the police would come after us and Social Services would take Elise into their care. Then I wouldn’t just be fighting Max for the right to see my daughter, I’d be fighting the state.

  ‘Yes,’ I say. ‘He did.’

  ‘Did you tell him about the phone call from Paula?’

  ‘I did, yes.’

  ‘He said that I should add it to the harassment diary I’m keeping for the police but, unfortunately, it doesn’t actually prove that she was the one who hurt Elise.’

  ‘Oh God.’ Helen slumps forward and rests her elbows on her knees. Her face is creased with concern. ‘I don’t know what to tell you, Jo. I just … God knows how you feel.’

  ‘Terrified.’

  ‘Yeah.’ She gives me a long look. ‘Yeah.’

  We lapse into silence, both of us watching Elise as she wraps one of her dolls in a blanket and then puts it to bed on a curtain she’s pulled off the sofa. I pull a tissue from the box on the side table by my chair and crouch down beside her to wipe away the stream of snot that’s suddenly appeared, then press a hand to her forehead. She feels very warm.