by Susan Lewis
I keep feeling afraid that Mummy doesn’t love me any more. I wish I was still three, I think she would then.
I want to run away to a place no one will ever find me.
I think it’s tomorrow that Mummy’s going to see someone called Julia who I’m supposed to remember, but I don’t think I do. I can’t go with her, she said, because she and Julia are going to catch up on old times and for some reason they can’t do it while I’m there.
They’re not the only ones who have a secret they’re keeping from me, because everyone does. All the children at school, and the teachers, even people walking down the street. They all look at me as though they know something I don’t. It’s like being an alien, all alone in the world where no one else is the same as me. I’m not sure if they’re laughing at me, or feeling sorry for me, but I can tell they hate me. I don’t care, because I hate them even more.
I know Daddy doesn’t like me because I’m not his the same as Cooper and Elodie, but that’s all right, because he’s not my real daddy anyway. My creepy daddy’s still in prison, and Tiger Tim who says he knows him has promised to take me to see him if I want to. I don’t know if I do or I don’t, but I can’t think of another way to ask about the rich people I got stolen from. If they exist. I hope they do, but I suppose they might not.
Anyway, I can’t get in touch with Tiger Tim, because there’s a password on Uncle Ron’s Wi-Fi that I can’t make work.
It doesn’t matter, because I’d much rather be with Mummy like this, even though we’re just lying here doing nothing.
I’m glad Mummy remembered to pack Boots. It would have been mean to leave him behind. When I run away to the place no one can find me I’ll be sure to take him with me.
‘Chloe? Are you crying?’ Mummy whispers.
I shake my head.
Turning so she can see me, Mummy looks into my eyes and smooths my hair. ‘What is it?’ she asks. ‘Why are you upset?’
‘I don’t know,’ I sob. ‘I just am.’
She gives me a hug and gets up from the bed. ‘Shall we go and see how Auntie Maggie’s getting on with dinner?’ she asks.
As I follow her down the stairs I’m thinking that she didn’t try very hard to find out what was wrong with me. She always used to, but she’s different now. I think this proves that she doesn’t love me any more.
I’d like to keep on going out of the front door along the drive and then I’d run and run and run to the place where no one can find me. The trouble is, I don’t know where it is.
Chapter Thirteen
Charlotte wanted to shout at Gabby to shut up and go back home to Devon; to stop moralising and prophesying and telling Charlotte things she already knew about adopted children being handed over to social services. What the hell did Gabby know about anything anyway, with her ideal upbringing, perfect marriage and untraumatised children? She’d never done anything remotely risky, or controversial, or criminal (it had to be said) in her life, so she had no idea how it felt to be Charlotte, much less to be Chloe. (To be fair, she wasn’t trying to put herself into Chloe’s shoes, whereas Charlotte could hardly take herself out of them.)
It was all imagined, of course, for she had no idea how Chloe really felt about anything, although she did know the loneliness and bewilderment of being an adopted child. She’d experienced it often enough while growing up. She hadn’t felt as loved or valued as she could see her sister was. She’d been a cuckoo in the nest as far as Gabby’s mother was concerned – she never thought of Myra as her mother now – although she knew Myra had tried to hide it. It hadn’t worked very well, for Charlotte had never felt like a real member of the family, hadn’t ever believed that Myra wanted her even when Myra was trying to be nice. The rector, her adoptive father, had been a true Christian, kind and sensitive and as generous with his time as he’d been with his affection. She’d always known she wasn’t his though, any more than he was hers.
Was that how Chloe felt about her and Anthony? That she didn’t belong, that she was in the wrong place with the wrong people and all she really wanted was her rightful mummy and daddy – the king and queen of a faraway land – to come and rescue her from the wicked people who’d stolen her and told her nothing but lies.
Charlotte knew how the fantasies went because she’d had them all herself.
She also knew, because Anthony had told her earlier, that it was Chloe’s Google search for information about her father that had brought the depraved individual into her world. How desperate and lonely she must have felt to do this, when she knew the man had tormented and abused her. Surely she hadn’t been so unhappy that even a life with him had seemed better than the one she was living now?
Shooting to her feet as though to escape the distressing thoughts, Charlotte headed for the door.
‘Are you all right, dear?’ Maggie asked worriedly.
Realising the abruptness of her movements must have startled them, Charlotte said, ‘Sorry. I just want to make sure Chloe’s asleep. We wouldn’t want her hearing what’s being said.’
‘I’ve been careful to keep my voice down,’ Gabby assured her in a whisper.
Had she? Since Charlotte hadn’t been paying attention, she couldn’t say for sure.
‘I’ve upset you,’ Gabby said anxiously.
Charlotte couldn’t help wondering why Gabby was so insecure when she’d always been so cosseted and loved, the privileged one, with a charity case for a sister. ‘No you haven’t,’ she insisted. ‘I’ll be right back.’
Upstairs in Chloe’s room Charlotte sat at the end of the bed in the soft glow of the nightlight, gazing at the sweetly sleeping face next to the beloved bear. Just the hint of a scowl betrayed how troubled Chloe was inside. The way she was holding on to Boots was another indication that she was worried, or afraid, or sensing something out there, beyond her understanding. The fact that she’d been ready to leave her bear in New Zealand, clearly not dreaming that she might need him once she was in England and had her mummy to herself, was clawing at the terrible ache in Charlotte’s heart.
What a hard and complicated world fate had created for Chloe.
She’d seemed to have had no idea that by using Anthony’s iPad the way she had she could have put herself in terrible danger, or she could have turned Anthony into a suspected paedophile, someone who was pretending to be her. He still wasn’t sure whether he was in the clear or not, but at least no accusations had been made during his interview with the Puawaitahi investigator. However, they could expect no conclusion any time soon, because he’d been informed that the case was being referred to the Child Exploitation and Online Protection Service in London, which could mean that someone there was already running background checks on both Charlotte and Anthony.
In a normal, sane world they’d have had nothing to worry about, but they both knew, from cases they’d been involved in themselves, that where child protection was concerned there were no guarantees. Many innocent people had had their children removed from the home, and just as many had found themselves in prison with their reputations, future and family in ruins.
She and Anthony were no more immune to miscarriages of justice than anyone else.
Chloe murmured in her sleep and turned closer to Boots. One little girl, one bruised and tender human being who, through no fault of her own, was causing untold stress and heartache to those who loved her. Looking at her now it was hard to believe that she wasn’t like most other girls her age, although in many ways she was. It was the differences, the invisible, irreversible damage, that was tearing her blameless life apart, and Charlotte’s heart to pieces.
Feeling a painful rush of love engulfing her, Charlotte clasped her hands to her face. How could she give this child up who needed her so much, who’d been showing her day after day since they’d been here that she couldn’t love her more if she were her own?
And yet, knowing what Charlotte did, and fearing for how much worse things could get if she didn’t give Chloe a chance with somebod
y else, somebody more able to deal with the trauma, would it be right to allow her to stay?
Word had obviously got out that Tuki River Winery was in trouble, for the price Thomas Reilly had put on the vineyard didn’t even come close to what Anthony had paid for it. Considering all the work that had gone into the estate, the improved quality of the vines, the complete makeover of the cellar door and retreats, not to mention the luxurious family home he and Charlotte had built, Anthony felt almost physically violent towards the broker when he’d had the nerve to suggest such a risible sum.
He couldn’t accept it, and wasn’t going to, and yet he couldn’t refuse it either, for time wasn’t on his side. Already he was having to go back to the bank to borrow more funds against the sale, and that was the kind of loan only a madman would allow to run. He wasn’t even sure if they’d lend him enough to cover the outstanding debts; if they didn’t then god only knew what kind of financial chaos would ensue by the end of next week.
‘Have you spoken to Charlotte this morning?’ his mother-in-law asked, carrying a freshly changed Elodie into the kitchen.
‘About an hour ago,’ he replied, and taking the baby from her he inhaled her sweet, talc scent and felt the responding flood of adoration sweeping through him.
‘Is she all right?’ Anna asked, going to get Cooper’s latest favourite cereal from the cupboard.
‘He told me last night he wants Cheerios this morning,’ Anthony informed her.
With a typical roll of her eyes, Anna swapped the boxes and filled a jug with milk. ‘Charlotte?’ she prompted.
The honest answer to Anna’s question was, no Charlotte wasn’t all right. How could she be when she was in the process of doing something that had the potential to destroy the rest of a little girl’s life, possibly her own too?
Realising Anna was still waiting, he said, ‘She’s seeing Julia Minor today, the psychologist.’
Anna nodded thoughtfully, and gave a laugh as Elodie grabbed her daddy’s face with her jammy fingers.
‘Mm, delicious,’ Anthony twinkled, licking her hand.
‘D-shush,’ she cried delightedly. ‘Nana, nana, dad, dad, dad.’
‘Dad! Dad! I’m taking my scooter to kindi today,’ Cooper shouted, banging the scooter down the stairs.
‘Careful you don’t fall,’ Anna cautioned.
‘Cooper!’ Elodie exclaimed, pointing at her brother.
Anthony planted a kiss on her cheek. He hadn’t told Charlotte yet how much better Elodie was doing with her words; he’d leave it until the time felt right.
‘Nana, I want Cheerios today,’ Cooper instructed, as he whizzed and wobbled through the kitchen on to the terrace.
‘Please,’ Anthony scolded, ‘and you need to come and sit at the table.’
‘Coming,’ Cooper called back.
‘I’m getting together with Sarah Munds again today,’ Anna told him, setting more toast and a boiled egg on the table.
‘Egg!’ Elodie declared, and before anyone could stop her she’d banged her hand into the shell, crushing it. Because it was hot she cried until Anthony kissed it better, and Anna sorted it out ready to eat.
‘Me,’ Elodie protested when Anna tried to feed her.
‘You?’ Anna laughed. ‘OK, off you go,’ and she handed Elodie the spoon.
‘Asking for trouble,’ Anthony warned as Elodie began trying to dig at the egg.
‘She’s an interesting woman, Sarah Munds,’ Anna continued, glancing up as Bob came in looking hot and dishevelled from his early morning power limp. ‘Ah, here’s Ben Kingsley in all his manly glory,’ she quipped.
‘I don’t know who you mean,’ Bob retorted, resting his hands on his bony knees, ‘but Ben Kingsley’s an actor.’
‘Really? Yes, of course he is. I guess I don’t know who I mean either, then. Did you go far?’
‘Only up to Craggy Range and back. Fancy partnering me in a game of doubles later?’ he asked Anthony. ‘Me and you versus Kim and Andy at Black Barn. Of course you’ll have to do most of the work, but being a younger man and all that …’
Thinking of how much he’d love to lose himself in a game of tennis, Anthony was sorely tempted to accept. However, picking was still under way, the winery was working at full tilt, and he needed to focus on persuading Wineworks to fulfil the new order. Added to that was getting the vineyard broker to up his price, Zoe and Will to accept delayed payments on their contracts, and at least a thousand other things that weren’t going to sit calmly on the sidelines while he thundered about a court waving a racquet.
‘How about you, Anna?’ Bob asked. ‘Fancy it?’
‘Even with that foot you’re too strong for me. Anyway, as soon as Rowan’s back from her mother’s I’m going into town to meet Sarah.’
‘Again? You were with her half the day yesterday.’
‘Is there something wrong with that?’
‘No, I’m just saying, that’s all. Cooper, fancy making up a four at tennis?’
‘Yes!’ Cooper cried, punching his hands in the air and letting his scooter thud to the ground.
‘OK, well you get a couple of friends together from kindi and we’ll thrash ’em when you get home.’
When he’d finished steering Elodie’s egg in the direction of her mouth, Anthony kissed her again and planted her in the high chair.
‘Dad, dad, dad,’ she gurgled. ‘Coo-ooper.’
‘Elodie,’ Cooper growled back, pretending to be a monster and making her squeal with laughter.
Unable to remember when he and Charlotte had last been this relaxed with the children, Anthony picked up his phone and laptop and headed out to the car.
‘Got a minute?’ Bob called, coming after him.
Anthony checked his watch. ‘As long as it’s only a minute.’
‘Then I’ll catch you later. Any more news from the police?’
‘It’s still early in the day, but given the time difference something might have come in from London overnight.’
‘Are they saying they think this scumbag is in Britain?’
‘I’m not sure, but given it’s where Brian Wade committed his crimes against Chloe I guess it makes sense to contact the police there.’
Bob nodded thoughtfully, then clapping Anthony on the shoulder, he said, ‘Go to it, and if you change your mind about the tennis you know where I am.’
Charlotte had been with Julia Minor for fifteen minutes or more by now, sitting in the room Julia used for therapy in a double-fronted Victorian town house two streets back from the marina. It was a large, shambolic space full of toys and blackboards, colouring books, child-size furniture, building blocks and a low-hanging punchbag draped in front of the old-fashioned hearth.
The two women were seated at each end of a sumptuous corduroy sofa with a tray of coffee on the table between them, and Julia’s notebook computer beside it. Every now and again she picked it up to type something into it, but for the most part, her round, sunny face was focused on Charlotte as they went back and forth along memory lane. However, it didn’t take long for Charlotte’s light-heartedness to fade; laughter was so alien to her these days that more than a moment of it inflamed her guilt with thoughts of Chloe, and how helpless and wretched she felt about failing her.
‘Do you really think you have failed her?’ Julia probed, her plump features taking on an expression of surprise.
‘I know I have,’ Charlotte confessed. ‘She needs so much more than I can give her, which is something I didn’t stop to consider when I took her. If I had, I’d have realised that I wasn’t in any way qualified to deal with a child who’d suffered the way she had, at least not on a permanent basis. It takes a very special kind of person to be able to handle those sorts of issues.’
‘Yes, it does,’ Julia agreed, ‘and it’s true, not everyone can cope, but there were no indications back then of how the trauma might manifest itself at a later date. You just saw a child in need and gave her all the love and reassurance she needed. Apart from
anything else, it was your job to rescue her from her father.’
‘But we both know what should have happened next. I should have put her into the system.’
‘Should have, could have, it’s irrelevant now. We can’t change the past. All we can do is try to work on the future. You told me on the phone that to date she’s refused to participate in any form of therapy?’
‘We were advised, after the adoption, not to try and force it,’ Charlotte replied, ‘and she really didn’t seem to need it back then.’
‘How many times have you tried since?’
‘I guess four or five, all in the past year. The problem is, the minute anyone starts asking her questions she doesn’t want to answer she just clams up, or throws the kind of tantrum you really don’t want to see.’
‘When was the most recent attempt?’
‘About a month before Christmas. I had the backing of the school, someone was brought in specially, but on that occasion she turned violent.’
After making some notes, Julia put the computer down again and said, ‘After the adoption I believe you and your husband took her straight back to New Zealand?’
‘That’s right.’
‘And your son …’
‘Cooper.’
‘… came along about six months after that?’
‘That’s right, and she seemed to love having a baby brother. She wanted to help with everything, she read him stories, tried to change his nappies, fed him, always wanted to buy him things when we went out.’
‘So she never behaved in a negative way towards him?’
‘Not as far as we were aware. Of course they squabbled and fought the way most kids do, but there was never anything to cause us any concern.’
‘So the problems really began after your daughter was born, which was …’
‘Eighteen months ago. They weren’t too bad at first, just the normal sort of jealousy kids can feel when a baby comes along.’
‘Give me some examples.’
‘Pinching or punching, not very hard, although sometimes enough to leave a bruise. Hiding or breaking toys; shouting at the baby to shut up when she cried.’