Stolen

by Rebecca Muddiman

  Then it was over.

  The people beside her were moving. A hand was around her arm, lifting her from her seat. She could hear her name being repeated until it faded out and she was in the car on the way home.

  So now she stood next to Beth’s crib. She had no idea what time it was. When was the last time she’d eaten? Slept? When was the last time she’d seen her daughter? She’d heard the door a few times. Heard the voices of neighbours they rarely spoke to, friends they hadn’t seen for years. The phone rang constantly. She heard Paul mutter thank you over and over. She heard him answer a few questions and then say ‘no comment’ again and again like some well-rehearsed politician. She could hear noise outside and guessed there were reporters out there. But she stayed where she was, beside Beth’s crib. She knew she shouldn’t leave Paul to deal with everything but she was too tired, too scared to do it herself. Listening to it all made her head hurt. If she let her mind drift from the thought of Beth sleeping peacefully in her crib she felt the pain of realising she was gone. She saw the hatred in the eyes of the man who raped her. Could smell his breath. She gripped the side of the crib and dug her fingers into the wood.

  A creaky floorboard reminded her of Paul’s presence and she turned to him. ‘In a while,’ she muttered although she couldn’t remember what he’d said. Paul stroked her fingers lightly with his and then turned and went back downstairs to watch their performance over and over on the news.

  Abby pulled her mobile phone from her pocket, staring as its silence mocked her. She knew she should call Simon but had no idea how to start. She wondered if Gardner had found him, had told him.

  She looked down at the phone again, clicked her way into the pictures folder, bringing to life the last photo she’d taken of Beth. She caressed her daughter’s pixelated hair with her thumb and tried not to think about what was happening to her at that moment. She stared into the phone for an answer when the ringing of the doorbell shook her out of her reverie. She heard Paul answer and this time he didn’t say, ‘no comment.’ She could hear his voice but not the conversation.

  Abby raced down the stairs, her heart pumping out of her chest, praying that it would be Gardner holding Beth in his arms. Paul stood with the door half-open, whispering to someone, his face twisted in anger. Abby’s foot on the creaky stair made him stop. He turned to Abby and then walked wordlessly back to the living room. Abby squeezed herself between the stairs and the open door to find Jen on the doorstep. The sight of her friend looking so deadly serious, so completely out of character, was too much for her. Jen stepped forward and took Abby in her arms. Abby ignored the shouts from outside.

  ‘God, Abby, I’m sorry.’

  Abby clung to her friend and tried to rein in her tears. After a while she stepped back and Jen closed the door. Abby led Jen through to the kitchen.

  Abby glanced around, looking for something to do. She picked up the cold cup of tea and poured it down the sink. ‘Tea?’ She stared down at the bowl in the sink, still showing traces of the banana Beth had eaten yesterday morning. She ran her finger over the edge of the bowl. She felt Jen come and take her by the elbow, guiding her to the kitchen table.

  ‘I’ll do it,’ Jen said. Abby took a seat and laid her palms flat on the patchwork tablecloth to stop them from shaking. Jen didn’t say anything and the only noises were from the filling and boiling of the kettle, the cups being dragged from cupboards and the scraping of spoons around the ceramic.

  When she finally took a seat next to Abby she took her friend’s hand. ‘How are you feeling?’ Abby looked into Jen’s eyes and gave a slight shake of her head. How could she describe how she was feeling? Jen shook her head. ‘Sorry, that was a stupid question.’

  Abby took a deep breath and made an attempt to smile. She knew if the circumstances were different and she was the one trying to provide comfort she would’ve opened with the same question, banal as it was.

  ‘I just can’t believe it. I keep thinking that it’s a mistake. That Beth’s fine, tucked up in bed and it’s someone else who’s...’ Abby bit at the loose skin on her lip. ‘I keep checking, going up and looking in her crib thinking she’ll suddenly appear but she doesn’t.’

  ‘I know,’ Jen said stroking Abby’s hand.

  Abby watched as Jen’s eyes filled with tears. She held back a sob and her friend squeezed her hand before letting go. She hadn’t told her friend what had happened to her. What those men had done. She couldn’t. She couldn’t say it out loud.

  ‘What have the police said?’

  Abby rubbed her hands over her face. ‘They have no idea. They thought that maybe someone just took her because she was alone, but if that was true they would’ve brought her back by now, wouldn’t they?’

  ‘I guess...’

  ‘No one has come forward. No one saw anything, or heard anything.’ Abby let her hands drop. ‘They’ll want to speak to you.’

  ‘I’ve spoken to them.’

  Abby paused. ‘When?’

  ‘Yesterday. This morning. They came by yesterday and told me what’d happened. Had a look around. Asked me loads of questions. I wanted to come by last night but...’ Jen said as she pushed her hair back behind her ear. ‘I spoke briefly to that detective, Garner?’

  ‘Gardner,’ Abby said.

  ‘Right. And then I went to the station this morning and spoke to someone else. A fat bloke?’ Abby shrugged. ‘Anyway, they just asked me how long I’d known you, what our relationship was like. They wanted to know who I told about you coming up yesterday.’

  ‘They asked me that too.’ Abby watched Jen, unsure whether to say what she was thinking.

  ‘What?’ Jen asked.

  ‘Did you tell anyone?’

  ‘No. Who would I tell?’

  Abby shrugged.

  ‘So that’s it? No leads?’ Jen asked.

  ‘No. Not yet,’ Abby said folding her hands around her hot cup. The warmth felt good, it was such a relief to feel something else, something different to the pain. She rocked the cup and the tea swirled around making mini whirlpools. ‘Where were you yesterday when I called?’

  Jen froze with her cup midway between her mouth and the table. ‘Do I need a solicitor present?’ she said, smiling slightly.

  ‘Of course not, I just wondered where you went. I tried you on both phones.’

  ‘I went out to the shop for more milk and tea. Those bloody builders are drinking me out of house and home.’

  ‘Builders?’

  ‘Yeah.’ She looked at Abby, puzzled. ‘What? What’s wrong?’

  ‘Where are they from?’ Abby said.

  Jen shrugged. ‘Someone recommended them to me, I don’t know if they’re in the book.’

  ‘No. Where are they from? Are they local? Are they foreign?’

  ‘The boss is from London I think. I suppose that’s foreign.’ Abby just stared. ‘The other two, I don’t know. One never speaks. The other, maybe he’s foreign, I don’t know. I never really paid them that much notice. I just tell them what I want doing and take them cups of tea. Why?’

  Abby stood and went to the phone. ‘Did they know?’

  ‘Know what? What’s going on?’

  ‘Did they know I was coming out to see you?’ she said while dialling, her voice raised with anxiety.

  Paul stepped out of the living room. ‘What’s going on?’ Abby asked for Gardner then moved the phone from her mouth while she waited.

  ‘Did they know, Jen?’

  Jen shrugged. ‘I don’t think so. They could’ve heard me on the phone I suppose but...’

  Abby moved her mouth back to the phone. ‘Detective Gardner? It’s Abby Henshaw. I need to see you.’

  Chapter Sixteen

  Miklos stared at the small TV in the corner of the room. The curtains were closed giving
the room a strange orange glow. At least it disguised the shit-brown carpet and the flea-bitten quilt. Damek was lying on the other bed, cigarette in hand despite the no-smoking sign by the door.

  Miklos licked his lips and glanced at his cousin. He wasn’t even watching. He looked like he didn’t give a shit. Which Miklos knew was probably true. He turned back to the TV and watched the police giving details about where it’d happened. They mentioned the van, the road. If anyone saw anything...

  Then the woman. The woman was to speak. Miklos swallowed hard. She stared out, her eyes glassy. Beside her the woman’s husband slid a sheet of paper from in front of her and started talking. Miklos didn’t really listen to what he said. He was looking at the woman. The woman he’d taken yesterday. He knew her name now. Abby Henshaw. He hadn’t been told that before. He wasn’t sure if Damek had known but he didn’t know. But then he didn’t know a lot. Hadn’t been told lots of things. Like the baby. He hadn’t been told about the baby. And now the baby was gone.

  The news moved on to something else and he switched it off. He turned to Damek who stubbed out his cigarette on the table beside the bed.

  ‘Are you hungry?’ Damek asked. ‘I could eat.’

  Miklos just stared at him. He didn’t care at all. Didn’t care about that woman. About the baby. He didn’t care that they could be caught. He didn’t care about anything. He watched as Damek stood and pulled his trousers on.

  ‘We have to do something,’ Miklos said.

  ‘About what?’

  ‘About that,’ Miklos said and pointed at the TV. ‘About what we did.’

  Damek sat down and started pulling his shoes on. He didn’t even turn around. ‘We got paid, didn’t we?’ He pulled on the other shoe. ‘Where do you want to eat?’

  ‘Listen to me,’ Miklos shouted. ‘The baby was taken.’

  ‘So?’ Damek shrugged. ‘Not our business.’

  ‘They think we took her.’

  ‘So?’ Damek shrugged again. ‘Think what they like. We don’t have a baby. They don’t even know who we are. They’re looking for a white van,’ he laughed. ‘How many white vans are there?’

  ‘They had our pictures,’ Miklos said and walked round to stand in front of Damek. ‘They could find us.’

  ‘It didn’t look like me,’ Damek said and stood up. He patted Miklos on the shoulder. ‘Not handsome enough,’ he said and grinned.

  Miklos thought about the sketches the police showed. Damek might be wrong about many things but he was right about the pictures. They looked nothing like them. But that wasn’t the point. ‘We have to do something. We could call and tell them what we know. We don’t have to say our names.’

  Damek slapped Miklos on the side of the head. ‘Don’t be stupid,’ he said. ‘Besides we don’t know anything. We don’t have the baby.’ Damek slipped on his jacket. He stepped up close to Miklos, bent down to look him in the eye, and put his hand on his throat. ‘And we don’t know who does, right?’

  Chapter Seventeen

  Abby was relieved when the doorbell finally rang and raced to the front door. DI Gardner frowned at her as they listened to the sound of the raised voices coming from the kitchen.

  ‘You’ve always been a selfish cow. If she hadn’t been driving all the way out there to see you none of this would’ve happened,’ Paul said.

  ‘That’s not fair,’ Jen said.

  ‘I’m sorry, have I hurt your feelings? Are you feeling a little bit sorry for yourself? Or is it guilt that’s getting to you?’

  ‘Fuck you, Paul. Where were you then? Why weren’t you there to take care of your wife and baby?’ Jen said.

  ‘Alright, enough,’ Gardner said. Both Jen and Paul looked around like naughty children, suddenly noticing his presence. Paul turned away and grabbed the edge of the table, knuckles whitening, his breathing heavy. Jen folded her arms across her chest.

  ‘Sit down,’ Gardner ordered.

  Jen pulled out a chair and sat. Paul lifted his head and shook it. ‘I can’t do this now.’ He brushed past Abby and grabbed his car keys from the table by the door.

  ‘Paul,’ Abby called out as he slammed the front door. Abby turned to follow but Gardner took hold of her arm.

  ‘Let him go. Give him some space.’

  Abby looked back to the door, letterbox still fluttering, and then turned back into the kitchen and allowed Gardner to usher her towards the table. Jen’s arms and legs were crossed.

  ‘Do you want to tell me what’s going on?’ he asked.

  Abby glanced at Jen and then back to Gardner. ‘Jen had builders at her house for the past week or so.’

  ‘Yes, I believe one of my team spoke to them yesterday.’ He looked at Jen and she nodded.

  ‘They might’ve known I was going there.’ Abby tried to make eye contact with her but Jen kept her face turned away. Abby couldn’t tell if it was because of guilt or anger. ‘They might be foreign,’ Abby said, and even as the words came out of her mouth she felt embarrassed, like she should be handing out leaflets for the BNP. A foreign builder? Of course he did it.

  Gardner took in a deep breath and let it out slowly. ‘They might be foreign?’

  Abby and Gardner both looked to Jen but she remained quiet. ‘Jen said one was from London but the other two could’ve been... foreign.’

  Jen lifted her head. ‘I said I didn’t know. They could be from Middlesbrough for all I know,’ she said.

  ‘Are they still there?’ Gardner asked. Jen nodded. ‘Did they leave at all yesterday?’

  ‘No,’ Jen said, this time looking at Abby. ‘They were there from half eight to about five, I think.’

  Abby felt her face burn. She hadn’t even considered asking if they had an alibi. It hadn’t even occurred to her to ask Jen whether they’d left her house. She closed her eyes.

  ‘I still want to speak to them again. You think they would have used the same road as Abby to get to your house?’ he said to Jen, who shrugged. ‘It’s possible they saw the van. It could’ve been hanging around there all day, or even another day.’

  ‘I suppose,’ Jen said and stood, scraping her chair across the kitchen floor. ‘We can go now. They’re still there.’ Abby opened her eyes once more, surprised to see Jen looking back at her. ‘Do you blame me too, Abby?’ Jen asked.

  Abby shook her head and stood. ‘Of course I don’t. I’m sorry. I just want Beth back.’

  Jen relaxed and moved around the table. ‘I know,’ she said and hugged Abby. ‘You’ll get her back, babe, you will.’

  Chapter Eighteen

  Helen Deal stared at the TV screen, her hands gripping her knees, her fingernails making half moons in her skin. A police officer was speaking on screen, asking for witnesses to come forward, but Helen’s eyes were on the woman. Her heart was beating fast. She had been there yesterday. She had sat there behind her in the doctor’s surgery. She had been there moments before this had happened. Should she go to the police? Should she tell them she was there, that she saw Abby Henshaw? That she saw the baby? What for? What good would it do anyone? She was panicking. She took a breath and turned to her daughter, fast asleep in the Moses basket. She looked so peaceful. So beautiful. She was everything to her. The thought of her being taken away was too much to contemplate.

  The officer introduced Abby Henshaw. She stared into space. Her mouth opened and closed but nothing came out. Why isn’t she screaming? Why isn’t she begging for someone to bring her baby home? Beside her, Paul Henshaw pulled a sheet of paper towards himself and started to speak. His voice reedy, wavering, making the appeal his wife couldn’t make. Helen watched as his hands shook, his long fingers clinging to the paper. She wondered what was going through his mind. He looked like he could fall to pieces at any moment. But he couldn’t. He had to be strong. One of them had to be. For the sake of the chi
ld.

  Helen turned down the sound and looked at the basket once more. She was sleeping so soundly. Helen reached out and touched her cheek. Her skin was so soft, so untouched. She knew she should leave her to sleep but she couldn’t help it. She needed to feel her, needed to hold on to her. Helen scooped her up and she made a soft groan before waking fully into a scream. Helen soothed her until she stopped but she didn’t really care. She appreciated every scream, every cry. At least it meant she was still there. She was alive.

  The knock at the door made her jump. She gently put her daughter down and walked to the window, pulling back the net curtain just enough to peek outside. A policeman in uniform stood at the door. Helen dropped the curtain, switched off the TV and went to answer the front door, closing the living room door behind her.

  ‘Yes?’ she said, opening the front door. The officer stood up straighter before speaking.

  ‘Helen Deal?’ he said and she nodded. ‘I’m PC Cartwright. I’m just making some enquiries about an incident yesterday. Do you mind if I come in?’

  Helen glanced over her shoulder before opening the door to let him in. ‘Of course not,’ she said. She led him through to the kitchen. ‘Would you like a cup of tea?’

  ‘No, thanks,’ Cartwright said, looking around as they walked through the house. As he glanced up the stairs he tripped on a child’s car seat. ‘This shouldn’t take long.’