Stolen

by Rebecca Muddiman

  ‘I know.’

  More silence.

  ‘I just wanted to say happy birthday,’ Gardner said. ‘Sorry it’s so late.’

  ‘I’m up.’

  ‘Right, well, just thought I’d ring and... see how you’re doing. There’s a card in the post,’ he said and cleared his throat. ‘You do anything today?’

  ‘Like what?’ his dad said.

  ‘I don’t know. Did David bring the kids?’

  ‘Haven’t seen him. Any of them.’

  Gardner could hear the babble of changing channels and his dad muttering at the remote control. Some things never change. He could stay away from home for another five years and he’d still recognise his dad’s grumbles.

  ‘Anyway, what would I be doing if they did come? Having a party? Eating jelly and ice cream?’ his dad said.

  ‘Did he ring you?’

  ‘No. Why would he? He never bothers any other time.’

  Gardner sat down. David could be an absolute tosser at times. He used to get away with his selfishness with their mum. No matter how disappointed she was by his lack of visits she was always charmed into submission by David’s kids. Put them on the phone for a few minutes and it absolved David of any responsibility. He doubted it worked on their dad. He wondered if Norman Gardner even cared whether he saw his kids or grandkids.

  ‘I just thought he might’ve popped in,’ Gardner said.

  ‘He’s probably busy,’ his dad said. ‘Same as you.’

  They both let that hang in the air for a moment. Gardner wanted to argue that he actually was busy but somehow it didn’t excuse the fact he rarely called anymore.

  ‘I saw you on the news,’ his dad said. ‘Looks like you’ve got your hands full.’

  ‘Yeah,’ Gardner said.

  ‘She’s probably dead by now isn’t she? Poor kid. Deserved better.’

  Gardner bit his tongue. He knew that his dad didn’t give a shit about Chelsea Davies. He probably hadn’t even watched the full report. He’d have come to the same conclusion as everyone else. Michael Gardner’s on the case, God help her. His dad didn’t give a shit about any of the cases he’d solved, any of the people he’d helped. He just saw the failures and revelled in them. It proved his point. The police were the enemy. You were better sorting your problems out yourself. No son of his would be a pig.

  ‘You still there?’ his dad said.

  ‘Yeah. But, look I’ve got to go.’

  ‘How’s Annie?’

  Gardner froze. ‘What?’ he said.

  ‘How’s Annie?’ his dad asked again, as if he was stupid.

  ‘Dad, me and Annie haven’t been together for years.’

  He could hear his dad mumbling to himself. ‘I know that,’ he said eventually. ‘I was thinking of whatshername.’

  ‘Who?’

  ‘The other one. The other girl you were seeing. I can’t keep track.’

  Gardner sat down. It’d happened half a dozen times now. The confusion and then the lies to cover it. A chimp could keep track of the girlfriends he’d had since Annie.

  ‘Are you alright, Dad?’

  ‘I’m fine,’ he snapped. ‘Thanks for ringing but I’ve got to go.’

  ‘Alright. Happy birthday,’ he said and listened to one last grunt from his dad before hanging up.

  Gardner sat there and listened to the neighbours still going at it. He got up and headed for the fridge before turning back and finding the half-empty bottle of Southern Comfort from the cupboard. He looked at the pile of dirty dishes and doubted there was a clean glass in the place. He raised the bottle. ‘Happy fucking birthday, Dad.’ He took a swig and turned on the stereo. Perfect. Nick Cave.

  Gardner held the bottle up to the light as the CD finished. Quiet suddenly overwhelmed him and he realised that the neighbours had stopped shouting. Maybe they’re both dead, he thought. There was still a little left in the bottle. He found the lid and screwed it back on. Bedtime. He picked up his phone from the floor and stopped halfway to the bedroom. He found David’s number and dialled. It was well past two in the morning. The voicemail kicked in. He should’ve rung the house phone. He’d wake the kids.

  ‘David, it’s Michael. I spoke to dad earlier. It’s his birthday. Or it was. A few hours ago. You obviously didn’t know that though or you would’ve been round to see him. Would’ve taken his grandkids to see him. Maybe even got him a card. But you obviously didn’t know about it. Cause if you’d known and you didn’t go and see him, that’d make you a selfish bastard. And you’re not that are you, David? No, you’re the perfect son with the perfect wife and the three perfect kids. Well, well fucking done on that, David. Well done.’

  Gardner hung up and threw his phone on the bed before following it in.

  Gardner woke up to a ringing phone. His mouth felt like a hamster had been hibernating in there. He grabbed the phone and prayed that it was work telling him all his cases had been solved. No one was missing, no one was dead, no one was in need of help. He could go back to sleep.

  He looked at the screen. David. Gardner declined the call and lay there thinking he should get up. He needed to go to work. Needed to get some water and a bacon bun into him. And he needed to get a birthday card for his dad.

  Chapter Forty-Three

  The seating arrangements made it difficult to see anything. Despite the chaotic spread of families across the field, most of the children were facing towards the stage, eager to be entertained. Even if Abby sat at the front it would be difficult to see all the faces and her actions would be obvious, and, most probably, suspicious.

  She decided to walk around the outside of the crowd on the pretence of looking for somebody, which wasn’t really pretence when she thought about it. After two loops with no luck she took a position on the far side of the field nearest the exit and kept sweeping glances across the sea of faces during the performance. The sight of the children laughing and squealing with delight made Abby feel joy and pain in equal measure. The sickly smells of toffee apples and hot dogs drifting from the various snack vans made her stomach turn.

  As she half-listened to the words coming from the stage she wondered if Beth would really be there. Maybe it was a joke, a really sick joke. Or maybe she’d just read too much into that note.

  She gazed at a couple of kids as they passed, one with blonde hair, one with brown. She guessed Beth would have dark hair. Both she and Simon did. But as the two girls stopped she started to wonder how she would know. How would she know when she saw Beth? Rising panic overwhelmed her. How would she know when she saw her daughter? She always assumed she’d just know, she’d feel it. She thought she’d been right before. She tried to recall what made her believe it before. What was it about those girls? But she’d been wrong those times. So what if she was staring at her daughter now and didn’t know it?

  Abby closed her eyes, drumming up the image of the girl she saw in her dreams. The little girl with the long hair. Somehow Abby had created this image and she was set in stone in her mind. Is that what she’d been looking for all this time? An imaginary girl?

  She shook the thoughts from her mind. No. She would know her when she saw her. She would know her own daughter. And she would be here. She knew it. She just had to keep looking.

  During the interval Abby got up and left her position to stretch her legs and get a reprieve from the overwhelming smell of greasy food. She hadn’t slept the night before, thoughts of Beth, what would happen when she saw her, swirled around her head. She’d watched Simon sleeping and wanted to wake him, tell him that he needed to come, that they’d be getting their girl back. But she’d kept it to herself. He’d try to talk her out of it, tell her she was crazy.

  She circled the field once more, her eyes scanning across the hundreds of faces, taking in each for the briefest of periods, long e
nough to discount them, not too long to make her conspicuous.

  As she approached the back of the crowd a young woman with a small girl caught her eye. The woman was trying in vain to get the little girl to eat some candyfloss. The girl wriggled away from the woman, her face scrunched up, giggling as she fought. Abby smiled at the sight. She remembered having the same reaction to candyfloss when she was a girl. Even as a small child she couldn’t believe that something with that consistency could possibly be edible.

  Abby stumbled. She looked down at the outstretched legs of an unhappy-looking middle-aged man and managed to right herself before she tripped over.

  ‘Sorry,’ she said and walked around the man as he gave her a black look. She moved to the back of the crowd and kept watching the little girl fighting against the evil of candyfloss. The woman with her heaved a heavy, theatrical sigh and then started to pick bits off to eat herself. The little girl giggled again and the woman leaned over and brushed the dark hair from the girl’s eyes.

  Abby’s heart stopped. She stepped forward a few paces, standing over the miserable man once again. Abby stared at the little girl and the rest of the world seemed to fade out. She was vaguely aware of the chatter and the presence of the crowd but they were so distant, so unimportant. All that Abby could see was the little girl.

  The little girl was Beth.

  Chapter Forty-Four

  Abby tried to control her breathing. She fumbled in her pocket for her phone. She had to call Simon. Or Gardner. Someone. Anyone.

  As she took out her phone the performance started up again and the man behind her told her to get out of the way. Abby forced herself to move and found a spot a few feet away from the girl. The woman held her arm out and the girl snuggled up against her. Abby heard a cry escape from her mouth. The girl stared up at the stage, enthralled by Mr Toad. Abby couldn’t take her eyes off her. She desperately wanted to go over and take hold of her. Hug her and never let her go.

  The play seemed to go on and on. Abby shifted position and checked her watch; far more restless than the kids surrounding her.

  Eventually the audience started to applaud and Abby knew this was her opportunity. She moved closer to the little girl and the woman. The woman stood up and started collecting up the remains of the picnic and the blanket. She told the girl to sweep the grass off her dress. She stood and swept her front and then, like a dog chasing its tail, she tried to clean her back. Abby laughed. The girl looked around at her and giggled back. The woman was concentrating on folding their blanket into a bag.

  ‘Hi,’ Abby said, her voice emerging as a croak. The girl looked at her and smiled. ‘What’s your name?’

  ‘Casey,’ the girl said. Abby felt tears sting in her eyes. She wanted to tell her, “That’s not your name”. But how was she to know? It wasn’t her fault she’d been taken away and lied to.

  ‘Hi, Casey,’ she said. ‘Did you like the show?’

  Casey nodded. ‘I like Mr Toad,’ she said.

  ‘Me too,’ Abby said and glanced at the woman who was still shoving plastic cups and plates into a picnic basket. ‘Is that your mummy, Casey?’ Casey looked at the woman and shook her head. Abby felt her pulse race. She shifted her position. ‘No?’

  ‘No, that’s Sara. She’s my nanny.’ Casey turned back to Sara and told her she needed to go to the toilet. Sara stroked Casey’s hair and picked up her bags.

  ‘Okay. Let’s go,’ Sara said.

  As they passed Abby, Casey waved. ‘Bye,’ she said and Abby waved back pathetically before the tears started to fall. She’d been right. The red-haired girl wasn’t something she’d conjured up; the message on the flyer wasn’t her imagination. Someone wanted her to be there. Someone wanted her to know where Beth was.

  But now what? All the thoughts that’d passed through her head last night, her dreams of finally finding Beth coming true, and she hadn’t thought about what would happen when she did.

  She watched as Sara led Casey across the field to the block of toilets and ignored the stares of people wondering why a grown woman was sitting alone in a field crying after a fairly average performance of Wind in the Willows.

  Abby looked down to where Casey had been sitting and saw a small pink and white bag with a picture of a mouse on it. She picked it up and looked back towards the toilets. She stood and jogged across to the block. When Sara and Casey emerged she approached the woman.

  ‘Excuse me?’ Abby said and Sara turned to her. ‘Did you drop this?’

  Sara smiled and reached out for the bag. ‘Thank you,’ she said and handed it to Casey. ‘Say thanks to the lady, Case.’

  Casey smiled up at Abby and said, ‘Thank you.’

  Sara and Casey turned to walk away. Abby walked around them, blocking their path. Sara looked confused but remained smiling. ‘I was just...’ Abby looked down at Casey. ‘What’s the name of the woman you work for? Casey’s mum.’

  Sara’s friendly expression evaporated. ‘Excuse me?’ she said.

  ‘I just need to know her name.’

  ‘I’m sorry,’ Sara said and took hold of Casey’s hand. As she tried to move past, Abby took hold of her arm.

  ‘Please. Just tell me her name. It’s important.’

  Sara looked around for help but everyone was too busy monitoring their own brood and trying to escape the park to notice much of anything else that was happening. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said and pulled Casey away.

  ‘You don’t understand. I lost my little girl,’ Abby said. Sara stopped and waited. ‘And she...’ Abby looked down at Casey. ‘She looks like her. Please...’

  Sara looked at Abby and swallowed.

  ‘Someone told me she’d be here,’ Abby said, fumbling in her pocket for the flyer. ‘Someone gave me this,’ she said, showing Sara the advert for the play. She turned it over. ‘See? They said she’d be here. It was a girl with red hair.’

  ‘I’m sorry but I can’t help you,’ Sara said, cutting her off. She tugged at Casey’s arm and they left Abby standing alone amongst the pandemonium of parents trying to round up excited children and get them home. Abby stood helplessly and watched as Sara and Casey moved out of sight. She jumped as a small boy ran into her legs. His mother grabbed him by his sleeve and apologised to Abby. Abby stared through the woman and then suddenly took off at a run to follow Sara and Casey.

  She weaved in and out of groups of people and muttered apologies as she knocked into them. As she approached the main gates she saw Sara and Casey crossing the road. Abby slowed down and followed at a distance. They got to another road and Abby hid behind a building as they looked both ways before crossing. When they’d got to the other side Abby moved away from the wall and followed. Her heart was racing. She could feel the sweat trickling down her back.

  Fifteen minutes later Sara and Casey turned onto a residential street. Abby watched Sara talking on her phone and after a brief conversation she hung up and then turned around, looking straight at her. Abby stopped.

  ‘Leave us alone,’ Sara said. Abby looked down at Casey. She was no longer smiling and clung to Sara’s hand. Abby felt her cheeks burning with embarrassment that she’d frightened her own child. What was she doing? She tried to think of something to say to Casey, to let her know it was okay, that she wouldn’t hurt her but before she could, Sara turned and pulled Casey away, leaving Abby standing on the street. They disappeared out of view, turning down another road. Unable to control herself any longer, Abby collapsed onto a wall and cried.

  Sometime later a police car pulled up.

  Chapter Forty-Five

  ‘That her?’

  Gardner looked through the glass into the interview room at Abby and nodded. She looked tired; somehow more fragile than when he’d seen her last. The old, ruddy-faced officer, Lane or Lang, he couldn’t remember which, rolled his eyes.

 
‘She said she knew you. She also said that someone had nicked her kid. She was harassing some woman and they called us.’ He looked at Gardner for some sort of acknowledgement but Gardner kept his eyes on Abby. ‘If you ask me, she’s one sandwich short of a picnic.’

  Gardner turned to the man and gave him a look which caused him to blush and look down at his shoes. ‘Her daughter was abducted five years ago. She was attacked.’ The old officer stared at his laces. ‘She’s not dangerous.’ Gardner looked back at Abby. ‘She’s grieving,’ he said, sighing. He opened the door. Lane or Lang attempted to follow him in but Gardner gave him another glare and the man cleared his throat and walked out, thinking better of it.

  ‘I’ll be out here if you need me,’ he said.

  Gardner shut the door with a scowl and took a seat opposite Abby. Abby looked up at him and tried her best to smile.

  ‘Hi, Abby.’ Abby just nodded in response. ‘We meet again,’ he said with a smile and crossed his arms, leaning on the table. It creaked under his weight. Abby shifted her eyes to her hands.

  ‘I saw her,’ she said, her voice barely a whisper. Gardner decided to let her talk. ‘I can’t believe that after all this time, all the time I spent... and now I’ve found her.’ Abby looked up at Gardner expectantly.

  He smiled back at Abby and felt a stab of guilt at what he was going to say. ‘This isn’t the first time you’ve thought you’ve seen her though, is it, Abby?’

  Abby’s smile didn’t falter. ‘I know. But this time I’m sure. I know it’s her. I know it’s Beth. Look,’ she said and pulled out the flyer, pushing it towards Gardner. He looked it over and then his eyes met Abby’s. ‘The other side,’ she said.

  Gardner turned it over and looked at the writing on the back. He hated himself for thinking it, even though it was just a fleeting thought, but it was possible Abby had written it herself.