by Susan Lewis
Anthony was opening and closing cupboard doors, and rummaging through drawers. ‘Oh, for god’s sake,’ he cried angrily.
‘Do we have a spare set?’ Charlotte asked.
‘You know we don’t. Have you looked in your bag?’
Obediently Charlotte unpacked it, found no keys, so went to unpack everything she and Cooper had bundled into the car.
Still no sign of them.
‘I can’t believe this is happening,’ Anthony shouted furiously.
‘All right, calm down,’ Charlotte scolded, catching Chloe’s worried face.
‘Well we can’t go anywhere without the keys,’ he pointed out, heading into the utility room.
‘We’ll find them. Chloe, any luck?’
‘They’re not in the sofas,’ Chloe answered.
Turning cold as she remembered Polly’s blog about Roxanne sabotaging a family day out, Charlotte said, ‘Are you sure you don’t know where they are?’
Chloe’s eyes flashed with anger. ‘Why does it have to be my fault?’ she shot back.
‘I’m not saying it is. I’m just asking if you’ve seen them.’
Enraged, Chloe cried, ‘No! I haven’t. You can go and check in my room if you like.’
Wondering how she could do that without upsetting her any further, Charlotte watched Anthony return from the utility room. The thunderous look on his face was enough to confirm they were still missing.
They continued to search every room, every pocket and every bag, until finally Anthony looked at his watch and said, ‘You might as well get the children out of the car, we won’t be going anywhere.’
Chloe’s eyes were wide as she looked at her mother.
Charlotte was trying to get hold of Rick, but it turned out that he and Hamish were at the Sunday market in Napier, so borrowing their car wasn’t an option.
‘Go and help Cooper out of the seat belt,’ Charlotte told Chloe. ‘I’ll come in a minute for Elodie.’ Once they were alone she said to Anthony, ‘Being angry about it isn’t helping …’
‘She’s hidden them,’ he stated tightly.
‘This was supposed to be her special day out, so why would she?’
‘I’ve got no idea,’ he retorted.
‘I searched her room myself and they weren’t there.’
‘So she’s put them somewhere else.’
Afraid he might be right, she let it go. She didn’t want things getting any more heated than they already were or the day would end up completely ruined.
‘We’re going to have a picnic on the lawn,’ she announced when she returned with Elodie.
‘I want to see the gannets and go to the beach,’ Cooper protested.
‘I know, sweetheart, but we can’t find the car keys and even if they turned up now, we’ve missed the tide.’
Cooper thrust out his lower lip.
Charlotte was watching Chloe as she wandered to the stairs and sat on the bottom step with her chin in her hands. Catching her looking, Chloe cried, ‘You’re still blaming me.’
‘No, I’m not …’
‘Yes you are, I can tell,’ and bursting into tears she turned on her heel and stormed up to her room to start throwing things around.
Ignoring the noise, Anthony said, ‘If we’re not going anywhere I might as well open the cellar door.’
‘Which would be much more enjoyable than having a picnic with us,’ Charlotte retorted scathingly.
His eyes turned flinty. ‘We have a business to run …’
‘We agreed it could close today.’
‘There’s no point now,’ and grabbing his laptop he started outside.
‘Do you know what I think?’ Charlotte shouted after him. ‘I think you hid them because you didn’t want to go in the first place.’
He strode on across the lawn and down through the vines, pausing only to straighten a net before he disappeared.
Sighing as she rested her aching head against Elodie’s, Charlotte said to a very unhappy-looking Cooper, ‘Will you help me to unload the car?’
‘Are we still going to have our picnic?’ he asked.
‘On the lawn, like I said.’
‘Is Daddy coming?’
‘I don’t know.’
‘I want Daddy to come.’
Realising he was about to cry, Charlotte turned away before she said something to make matters worse.
‘I want Daddy,’ Cooper wailed. ‘You shouldn’t have shouted at him, Mummy. It’s all your fault.’
‘Yes, of course it is,’ Charlotte mumbled, wrapping Elodie more tightly in her arms, while upstairs Chloe continued to rant and thump and kick and smash up whatever she was getting her hands on.
Down at the cellar door, Anthony was setting out wines for tasting, thinking of Chloe with fury and frustration. He didn’t understand her, had no idea how to control, or appease her, much less how to reach her. She’d hidden the keys all right, he’d been able to tell by the way she’d looked at him – it was as though she was punishing him by spoiling the day out, which was crazy when it was her special treat, not his.
Picking up his mobile he tried calling Charlotte. She didn’t answer, probably because she was still too angry, so he left a message saying he was sorry and asking if he was still invited to the picnic.
He’d go, of course, and somehow make himself do a better job of setting aside the stress he’d been under since talking with Kim Thorp last night.
The Australian order was in jeopardy.
After dealing with a group of Indonesian wine buffs who’d wandered in from the road, he connected to Kim at Black Barn. ‘Any news?’ he asked.
‘Not this morning,’ Kim replied. ‘It could take a while, a couple of weeks or more before we know anything for certain. I just wanted to give you a heads up in case it’s true. I’ll be in touch the minute I hear anything.’
Ringing off, Anthony abruptly threw the phone into the courtyard as if it might in some way alleviate the frustration building to fever pitch inside him. He didn’t want to share what he’d learned with Charlotte until it was certain the rumours were true. If so, they were ruined.
I had the worst, the most horrible dream last night. The man who says he’s a friend of my real daddy’s reached out of the computer and pulled me inside. Then I was in a big, spooky house, and a very scary woman who everyone said was my real mummy kept banging my head on the floor. She wouldn’t stop even though I was crying. Next, my daddy was there and I was so terrified I wet myself. I kept trying to scream for Mummy, but no sound was coming out. Then Mummy was there, but she didn’t look at me. She was carrying Cooper and Elodie and walking away. I shouted out to her, but she didn’t turn round, so I ran after her and went to get a knife. I was trying to stab myself and pull my hair and scratch my face to pieces.
When I woke up my bed was wet, and Mummy was stroking my face, but I thought she was going to start banging my head so I ran away and tried to find a knife. Anthony caught me and held me so tight I couldn’t move.
I don’t want to have a dream like that again, but I’m afraid I will, because I can’t stop thinking about it. The man who says he’s a friend of my real daddy’s keeps messaging me. He says he’s very sad that I’m not answering him, especially when he knows I’m there. I just look at the screen and try to think of something to say, but nothing comes.
This morning Anthony got someone to repair the window in my bedroom. I don’t know how it got broken, I think I might have tried to jump out in my dream, but I can’t really remember.
Anyway, it doesn’t matter, because it’s mended now, but I’m not going to open it, because I don’t want anyone to come in and get me.
Chapter Nine
Almost two weeks had passed since the day out that didn’t happen, and it was as though they were sliding slowly but inexorably into a whole other dimension of family hell. Anthony had become so stressed he was virtually impossible to talk to, and Chloe was even more erratic in her behaviour, especially towards to the
little ones. She’d had several nightmares too, but she’d never say what they were about. Each time she wet the bed and punched and kicked herself, and raged so savagely that she made her mouth bleed. Worse was the way she could be perfectly calm one minute, and the next she’d start threatening to kill them all.
Charlotte hadn’t read any more of Polly’s blog since the entry about Roxanne sabotaging a family day out and the husband leaving; crazy as it seemed, she was starting to feel that by engaging with it her subconscious was seizing on some ghastly form of mimicry to make the same happen.
If she believed that, she was surely losing her mind.
So was Chloe. She was showing so many signs of going the same way as her birth mother in the peculiar things she said or did, not to mention the random, even terrifying, bursts of aggression, that Charlotte was fearing it more as each day passed.
‘Call me Ottilie,’ she’d growl out of nowhere, her eyes glittering a malicious challenge. ‘It’s my name. I want you to call me Ottilie.’
Charlotte ignored it, just like she was ignoring so much else, including the fact that Chloe had hidden the car keys – in Cooper’s kindi bag, presumably to get him into trouble – the day they were due to go to Cape Kidnappers. Though it seemed a minor issue when compared to everything else she did, it continued to grate with Charlotte, for she simply didn’t understand why Chloe would want to wreck her own day out.
Because somewhere in her tortured psyche she hadn’t felt she deserved it? Or was it because Cooper and Elodie were coming too?
She still hadn’t tackled Chloe about it because she simply couldn’t face the lies or the tantrum that would be bound to follow. She’d told Anthony she’d found them in the fridge, which could only mean that she’d left them there without thinking while putting something away.
‘You lied to Daddy,’ Chloe accused when they sat down to some social studies later in the day. (At least she’d called him Daddy on that occasion, a rare event these days.) ‘You told him the keys were in the fridge, but they weren’t.’
Charlotte regarded her coldly. ‘Does that mean you know where they were?’ she challenged.
Apparently realising she’d walked herself into a trap, Chloe ignored the question and said she was tired so she didn’t want to do any lessons today.
Charlotte didn’t doubt she was tired, she’d been up in the night and Charlotte wasn’t sure for how long. She only knew that something had woken her and when she’d tiptoed out to the landing to investigate who might be out of bed she’d found Chloe, wide awake, in Elodie’s room, standing over the cot and staring in.
‘What are you doing?’ Charlotte asked, an unsteady thump in her heart.
Chloe spun round. ‘I’m not doing anything,’ she protested.
‘So why are you in here?’
‘I thought I heard her cry so I came to see if she was all right.’
Charlotte went to check on Elodie, and seeing she was awake and needed her nappy adjusting she lifted her into her arms. ‘Go back to bed,’ she said to Chloe.
‘I don’t want to.’
‘I’m not arguing … Don’t do that!’ she cried, as Chloe kicked her and tried to thump Elodie. ‘Do as you’re told or I’ll wake Daddy and let him deal with you.’
Invoking the threat of Anthony didn’t always work, but fortunately on that occasion it had, although Charlotte probably wouldn’t have woken him because he’d started getting up before dawn most mornings.
With the picking of early-season fruit under way he was gone right through the day, not returning home until it was time to read Cooper a story, during which he usually fell asleep himself. Chloe didn’t want stories any more, she just wanted to be left alone to read a book or play a game on her iPad. She didn’t even want to go to the bistro with Rick, and when Olivia Munds rang to invite her over for tea she told Charlotte to tell Olivia to drop dead. Of course Charlotte didn’t, but when Sara Munds came on to the line she did admit that she was finding Chloe very difficult these days.
‘Do you have any idea when we might be told what’s going to happen at the school?’ she asked, sinking into a chair and feeling like she never wanted to get up again.
‘It should be any time now,’ Sara assured her. ‘You sound tired.’
Exhausted was actually how Charlotte felt, but she was afraid if she admitted it it might just swell up and consume her, so all she said was, ‘It’s been a bit of a trying time lately, but it’ll be fine. Thank you for inviting Chloe for tea and sorry she can’t make it.’
As she rang off Rowan came in with Elodie.
‘Where’s Cooper?’ Charlotte asked, taking the baby and smoothing a hand over her silky cheek.
‘He’s at Oliver Crouch’s for a sleepover,’ Rowan reminded her.
Charlotte felt strangely confused by the answer, as if it wasn’t quite connecting. Was Cooper old enough for sleepovers? Had he done it before?
Yes, of course he had, and Oliver had slept here.
‘I’m a bit worried about Elodie,’ Rowan was saying. ‘She seems to be running a fever again and she’s hardly stopped crying all day. Poor thing has probably worn herself out.’
Touching a hand to Elodie’s warm, damp brow, Charlotte said softly, ‘It smells like her nappy needs changing.’
‘It does, but I didn’t want to wake her, and she kicked up really badly when I changed it earlier. I think she’s a bit sore down there.’
Feeling her mouth turning dry, Charlotte said, ‘I should have a look. She might need to see a doctor.’ This couldn’t be what she was thinking. She wouldn’t allow it to be. She was tired, she reminded herself, run down, and not able to think straight.
Minutes later, upstairs in Elodie’s room, Charlotte was staring at her precious little girl with a hand stuffed in her mouth to stifle the horror erupting all the way through her. She knew what she was looking at for she’d seen it often enough on children who’d been abused, including Chloe.
Realising she was close to panic, she forced herself to breathe and sat down next to Elodie. Her mind was full of the night she’d found Chloe next to the cot, then it was reeling back to the dreadful time that Chloe, aged three, had suffered from a similar inflammation.
Stop, just stop. It might look like vulvovaginitis, it might even be that, but there are other ways of getting it …
She tried to think if they’d changed washing powder lately, or used a different cream on Elodie, but she could hardly connect with the thoughts. Her mind was going off in too many directions … She should take her to a doctor, but if she did, given Chloe’s history, the doctor would immediately be suspicious and the next thing she knew they’d be taking her precious baby away.
As if it were about to happen, she scooped Elodie up and held her tight.
They might take Cooper and Chloe too.
She couldn’t let this happen.
She had to deal with it herself. No one must know about her suspicions, especially not Anthony; she was terrified of what he might do if he found out. She’d tell him, and Rowan, that she was taking Elodie to the doctor and when she came back she’d say it was just one of those baby things. While she was in the village she’d get some cream from the pharmacy. She’d look up what kind of cream online. It would treat the burning; they could clear it up in no time …
But that wasn’t sorting the real problem.
What was she going to say to Chloe? She could already feel herself shrinking from the questions that needed asking, Chloe’s heated denials, her fury and the way it was likely to erupt into violence …
What was happening? Their lives were turning into an unstoppable nightmare.
That night, for reasons she could barely explain, she went back on to Polly’s blog.
This is singularly the worst thing that’s ever happened to me. I knew it would happen, but I’ve been burying my head in the sand, pretending it would go away. I am being forced to choose between Roxanne and the rest of my family. I know where my duty and loyalties
lie, but don’t they belong to Roxanne too? I’m all she has in the world. If I give her up I can’t bear to think of what it might do to her, or what it’ll do to me. I’ll never stop worrying about her, or feeling that I should have, could have done more. I will never be able to get away from the fact that I’ve ruined her life, and I’m sure it will be ruined if I hand her into care now at her age.
She’s still threatening physical harm to the younger ones if they come to visit, so is it any wonder that my husband refuses to bring them? He keeps asking me if I want her to destroy our marriage, if I’m using her as some sort of excuse to be rid of him, which is hardly fair, but I know how frustrated and helpless he’s feeling too. Yesterday he reminded me of what the psychologists believe, that Roxanne would do better as an only child, but what statistics are there to prove this? I must try to find out, but even if it’s worked for some, who’s to say it will for Roxanne, and who is going to take her in at her age with all her problems? Are they really just going to melt away if she goes into a foster home where there are no other children?
I realise how conceited this sounds, but in spite of everything I truly believe I’m the one she needs, and that no one will love her as much as I do. I want to carry on giving her a chance, but it’s killing me to be parted from the other two, and it’s not doing them any good either. I love them so much, I wish I could explain things in a way they’d understand, but how can I expect so much of them when they’re still so young and we barely understand things ourselves.
If I didn’t love Roxanne so much, if I were unable to see the frightened, vulnerable little girl behind the monster’s mask, this might be easier. Who am I kidding? Nothing about it will ever be easy.
I’m truly at the end of my tether.
Charlotte was so shaken – and terrified – by the entry that she immediately tried to find the next, only to discover that there were no more. She felt so panicked that it took her a while to remember that Anthony was still with her, that no one was asking her to make the same choice, that in spite of the similarities in their stories she wasn’t Polly and Chloe wasn’t Roxanne.