by Zosia Wand
‘In the station?’
‘No, silly. Come with me.’
We cross the street to the Railway Hotel, an imposing Victorian building with dark woodwork and deep red carpets. They have a double room for a reasonable price. I pretend it’s all a great adventure. ‘We’re investigators,’ I explain to Milly. ‘Solving the mystery. Daddy’s hiding and we have to find him.’ For a few seconds I can almost believe this is all a bit of fun. Something to entertain Milly. The idea that Neil’s waiting to be reunited with us soothes a wound inside me. He’s been trying to reach me. Lizzie believes he’s a good man. There’s a truth to be found that will exonerate him and I must find it. I owe him that.
I let Milly bounce up and down on the bed for a while, pretending it’s a trampoline, and open the holdall Lizzie gave us. Inside are two cheese scones, a packet of biscuits and two apples. ‘Look! Lizzie made us a picnic!’ Milly throws herself at the food. She’s brightened since we left the house. Since we left Mum. There’s a washbag in the holdall with two toothbrushes, a container of very fancy bubble bath and some moisturiser. I hurry into the bathroom and start running a bath before Milly can see my tears.
When we’ve eaten, we strip off, giggling, as we slide into the bubbles together. Milly wriggles her soapy body up and down my limbs and eventually settles with her back to me, resting between my legs, her head on my chest, and it’s the most comfortable and wonderful feeling in the world.
I help her brush her teeth and settle her into the wide bed. My phone’s still dead. There’s no phone in the room; everyone carries a mobile now.
It takes a few moments for Milly to start snoring softly. I slip out to reception and ask the young barmaid if I can use their landline. She directs me to a pay phone in the hall, under the stairs. I can’t phone Shona, I don’t know her number without my mobile. It’s the last thing I want to do, but I dial my home number and wait for Mum to pick up.
‘Evangeline! Thank God! Where are you?’
‘We’re fine.’
‘What’s happened? Has he abducted you?’
‘Of course not.’
‘I’ve phoned the police!’
My stomach twists. ‘Why?’
‘Because I was worried. You’d both disappeared. I thought—’
‘For God’s sake, Mum! Phone them now and tell them it’s a false alarm.’
She’s quiet. When she speaks her voice is low, authoritative, ‘Come back, Evangeline. We can sort all this out.’
‘I can’t. Not yet.’
A pause. ‘You’re not yourself.’
Now I’m afraid. Red-hot fear. The dragon with its flaming breath. My rational mind tells me this is my mother, an elderly woman with a mobility problem, what possible harm can she do to me? But my body is alert, hairs on end, like an animal picking up the scent of a predator. ‘I’m fine.’
‘You’re not fine, Evangeline. Your behaviour – this is troubling.’
‘There’s nothing to worry about.’
‘Shona is concerned for Milly.’
The silence gathers between us as I try to swallow. ‘What have you said to her?’
‘She says Milly should be returned here immediately.’
‘What did you tell her?’
‘I told her I was worried about you. About your mental health. You don’t know what you’re doing any more. He’s a liar. He’s a manipulator and he’s got you so confused you don’t know who to trust. You no longer know your own mind, Evangeline.’
*
Back in the room, I sit on the bed, Milly curled into the foetal position beside me. My heart is leaping hurdles, my brain trying to keep up. I was planning to go to Betty and Mike’s, but I can’t do that. Neil will be there and I need to be careful. Until the inquiry is completed he can’t be anywhere near Milly. I must follow the rules. That’s what Neil’s been doing, that’s why he left immediately. It wasn’t guilt. He’s doing what’s necessary to achieve what he needs. He’s proving himself worthy, protecting me and Milly, our family, whatever it takes. Betty and Mike’s is the first place Shona, or the police, will look for us. Will the police be looking for me? Seriously? I can’t imagine they’ll listen to my mother. I’m a grown woman; I can leave home if I want to. But Milly’s not yet my child. I have broken the rules. This could jeopardise the adoption. They could they take Milly away.
Think. I try to imagine Shona, her cool, steady voice. What would she tell me to do?
Shona would want Milly to be with someone known to social services, someone they trust, but all those people are in Cumbria and we’re heading south. Our contacts, our established network, are in Hitchin. And as I think this, I remember saying something along these lines to Shona during the adoption process. I was frustrated by the number of referees we had to identify. It’s not easy to find people to vouch for you as potential parents when you’ve only been living in a community for two years. We needed three referees, and only one of these could be a family member. Neil’s mum, as an adopter herself, was an obvious choice, but after that it was more difficult. It was Shona who decided to make the case for someone further afield. ‘What about a friend from Hitchin or Stevenage?’
I phone Naz’s mum. Her landline number is imprinted on my brain from childhood. She’ll give me Naz’s mobile number and Naz will give me Shona’s.
*
‘Jesus, Eve! You’ve had me worried witless!’ I’ve never heard Shona so emotional. She is always professional and controlled. Her panic sends my heart sprinting faster.
‘I’m so sorry. I didn’t expect her to phone you. I was going to call and explain, but my phone—’
‘Never mind that now. Where are you?’ I hesitate. Is she going to take Milly away? Have I ruined everything? ‘Eve, Milly’s safety is paramount right now. Don’t do anything stupid.’
‘I had to get her out of there.’ I try to sound like an adult, like someone who can be trusted. ‘I can’t go back. I know that sounds pathetic, but if I go back she’ll mess with my head and I won’t be able to think straight.’
Shona sighs. I start to cry. She’s quiet on the end of the phone and waits for me to pull it together. She believes me. She doesn’t look at my mother and see a harmless little old woman and she doesn’t see an ungrateful, hysterical daughter in me. She knows how complicated this is. ‘I’m scared.’
‘Eve, you have to do exactly as I say. At the moment this is a low-level inquiry and Neil is playing it by the book and I’m doing all I can to help, but you have to be very careful and this…’ She stops, choosing her words.
I’ve messed it up. I should have called her. I should have talked to her before I ran. There’s a faint crackling down the line. I stand with the receiver in my hand, my eyes squeezed shut, begging the universe to give me another chance.
Eventually Shona speaks. ‘Listen, I’ve been in touch with the foster family. Ruth says they can take her while you do whatever it is you need to do. I’ll say you need some respite, the stress of the allegation. It’s perfectly understandable, but if you take Milly away now, without prior consent, you could be jeopardising everything.’
I don’t want to let Milly go. I may never get her back. I want to cling to her, but she needs security. Routine. She is the priority. She liked the foster family. They have two dogs. We’ll say it’s a treat. ‘Could she see her grandparents while she’s there? Could you organise something? Would that be possible?’
‘I’ll see what I can do. Where are you? I’ll come and get her.’
‘Carnforth.’
‘Carnforth! Bloody hell, Eve! You don’t make things easy, do you?’
‘Can you come?’
‘It’ll take me an hour. Talk to Milly. Get her ready.’
31
Naz was waiting for me at the station. She asked no questions and I said nothing until we got back to the house. Then she exploded. ‘That fucking woman!’ Her rage was entirely directed towards my mother. She had no time for Vincent Lord’s statement, not even when I
told her Neil’s own doubts. ‘She fucks with your head, Eve! And now she’s fucking with his! You saw Tina’s dad! You saw what he did to his wife, how scared she was of him. He’s a nasty piece of work. Why would you believe a word that odious little bully says?’
I need to speak to Neil, but it isn’t easy finding a charger for my old Nokia among the small independent shops of Hitchin. Naz has nipped to Cam’s school with a bargain-shop tray-bake, for a fundraiser she forgot about, and is going to phone me when she’s done. Without a car, I can’t get to the bigger electrical shops. I’m about to give up, when I see an elderly gentleman in the churchyard, checking messages on a phone identical to mine. I explain my predicament. It turns out he lives a ten-minute walk from where we’re standing and he’s happy to take me back with him to charge my phone.
Ted is a retired schoolteacher. Catkin-fluff hair and liver-spotted hands. There’s something comforting about falling in alongside him as he keeps a slow but steady pace along Bancroft. He tells me that his wife died last year. I can almost feel her hovering close, looking out for him. I wonder if he feels her too. I’d like to tell Ted everything, hand the whole ugly mess over to this kindly gentleman and wait for him to fix it, but it would be too much for a man like this. My mother’s accusation has sullied us all.
The sense of that other, benign, presence gathers substance as we reach Ted’s house. I can almost picture her, standing beneath the last of the wisteria, sweeping the dried flower-heads from the stone step. Inside the dark hall there’s a round oak table at the foot of the stairs, a vase of dried hydrangeas at the centre, along with an abandoned clothes brush and a pile of post and free papers. Umbrellas and wellington boots are lined up in the corner. It’s a grand house, but not showy. Dusty, welcoming. A family home with its own unique history. There are photographs of children and grandchildren hanging everywhere. Ted offers me a cup of tea and a scone while we wait for the phone to charge. The scone is excellent. ‘Joyce used to make them for the WI and I’ve kept up the ritual.’ He offers me home-made jam and clotted cream. Damson jam. The words are written in a shivery script. I can picture her at this table, the labels laid out in front of her, pen in hand. What would it be like to have a father like this, a kindly, gentle man, happy to have me pop in? How different my life might have been with a second parent, someone to temper her need and take some of the pressure off. Why did my father leave? Did he abandon me without a second thought, or was it more complicated than that? I think of Neil trying to contact me, Mum wiping the messages, sending him the text to say I didn’t want to talk to him. What was it she said in her defence? She was trying to protect me?
What lengths will my mother go to, to protect me?
Did my father try to keep in touch? Did he write or phone over the years? Did she decide, on my behalf, that he wasn’t to be trusted and I was better off without him? What if he is a man like Ted? Gentle. Maybe a little weak. Someone who prefers to keep the peace and avoid an emotional confrontation. Someone a little like me.
Is he alive? Is he somewhere close right now? Would I know him if I passed him in the street? Does he know me?
I find myself telling Ted about Milly, about the adoption, and he isn’t patronising, he doesn’t tell me I’m noble or that Milly is lucky, he simply says, ‘Well, that’s a wonderful thing.’
Naz calls just as I’m unplugging my phone. I tell her I’m on my way. I try to call Neil, but his phone is switched off.
32
‘So, I’ve done a bit of investigating.’ Naz pulls the spiral-bound notepad out of her pocket. I’m folding a huge pile of laundry, mostly bedding and boys’ T-shirts, that have been screwed up in a plastic basket so long they’ve stiffened into crumpled lumps. Naz is clearly never going to iron this stuff, and I need to feel I’m doing something, so I shake out each item and smooth it into folds. ‘I went back to the Oxfam shop. The woman there said she thought Ann lived in Shephalbury, on Wood Drive. My aunty lives on Rowan Lane which is in that area. Aunty Rupinder knows everyone and everything that’s going on in her patch. She’s the coordinator for her local Neighbourhood Watch scheme.’
She pauses for dramatic effect, clearly enjoying herself. I shake out a dark blue sweatshirt with a school logo stitched to the front. The cuffs are unravelling. ‘Go on.’
‘So, I gave her a call. She has this snazzy little folder she keeps in the top drawer of the sideboard. Max found it when we were there a while back and pulled it out. She went bananas when she saw him; apparently, all that stuff is confidential. Anyway, I remembered that at the back of the folder was a little map with all the houses in her area. The ones who’d signed up to the scheme were highlighted and the names of the residents listed next to them. I asked her to check for me.’
Her chirpiness is beginning to get to me. Has she forgotten what this is all about? I shove the basket towards her. ‘Make yourself useful.’
‘I told her I’d got a Body Shop order to deliver to Ann Lord, after one of my parties, but I’d written down the wrong address.’
‘They were on her list?’
‘They were! Jump two spaces and collect £200 for passing Go, Detective Parker!’
‘Seriously?’
‘They live at number seven.’
She gives a yelp of delight, holding her hand up for a high five.
But I can’t match her celebratory mood. I slip to my knees, a crumpled sheet settling around me. If that bruise of Ann’s is anything to go by, Vincent Lord is a violent man. Naz tries to comfort me but I shove her off. ‘Naz! For fuck’s sake! This isn’t some stupid prank! This is my life. My family!’
Her face is serious now. Her eyes remain fixed on mine as she waits for me to get a grip. ‘I’m sorry. Sorry. I know.’ She sits down on the floor facing me. ‘I can’t do this for you. I wish I could. I’ll do what I can to help, but you’re the one. You have to fight, Eve. You have to protect them.’
I remember the day at the outdoor pool. Lesley Butler and her patronising, hurtful comments. The indignation that welled up inside me on Milly’s behalf. Something stirring, a growing power, and I remember the moment it erupted, after the smack, exploding at my mother in defence of my child. I know now what mothers mean when they say they would kill anyone who tried to hurt their children.
But this is not life and death. Milly’s not in immediate danger. This is a quieter menace, though just as dangerous in its own way, precisely for that reason. Angry retaliation will achieve nothing here and, judging by Ann’s bruise, will only make the situation worse. This isn’t just about Milly, or Neil, or me; there are other people at risk. We need a different approach. And in the absence of anything else I have to consider the resources we have available.
*
I wait at the far end of the street watching Ann Lord’s front door as Naz talks to someone inside. At one point she glances over her shoulder and gives me the thumbs up. Then Vincent Lord appears, pulling on a tweed jacket. His movements are jerky, irritated, his face creased into a frown. He follows Naz up the street away from me. I’m relieved to see that he’s quite slow and struggling to keep up with her, though he’s a sturdy block of a man. Small, but compact. His face is stern. He’s not someone to mess with. I’m beginning to regret this, but there’s no going back now. Naz’s Aunty Rupinder is waiting for them. Some fake paperwork for Neighbourhood Watch volunteers that Naz has put together. I haven’t got long. The form will take five minutes or so, but Aunty Rupinder has been tasked to keep Vincent Lord plied with tea and goodies for as long as possible.
Ann trembles in the doorway. She whispers, ‘What are you doing here?’ searching over my shoulder as if he might return at any moment.
‘I need to talk. Please? It’s all right; he’s gone, but we haven’t got long. I need to ask you about Tina.’
Her face is stricken. She looks anxiously up and down the street once more to be sure, and ushers me inside, closing the door behind us. Hesitating on the threshold of the living room, she changes her mind
and leads me through a small galley kitchen and out the back. She has to press her shoulder against the door to shove it open, ‘It’s swollen after the rain,’ and leads me down the garden, to the end of the lawn where there are several mature fruit trees, beyond which is a wooden gate. We stand in the shade of the trees. It’s chilly out of the sun, but her eyes flit to the kitchen window and back and I feel safer here. I’m aware that Vincent might return at any moment. Naz will call me as soon as he leaves her aunt’s house, but that will only give me three or four minutes’ warning. I’m as frightened by the possibility of him returning as Ann is. For her sake, more than mine.
I cut to the chase. ‘You know about the statement?’
She nods.
‘My husband’s being investigated. We could lose Milly. I don’t know what my mother told you, but we’re in the process of adopting her. Still in the trial period. He’s… Please! He’s a good man. He had no idea. I know it’s awful, unforgiveable, but he was a boy and he didn’t – I can’t believe…’
‘He didn’t.’ Her voice is firm. More solid than I’ve heard before. ‘Vince lied.’
I close my eyes and feel the world spin around me. I knew. Of course I knew, but I still needed to hear it.
‘Tina told me what happened. Vince lied and he lied about her age. She was sixteen. She turned sixteen a few weeks before, but they wanted to make it sound worse.’ They. Not just him, but my mother. She knew he was lying. She knew. ‘It wasn’t assault. It wasn’t anything nasty. She’s a good girl, my Tina. She wouldn’t…’
They lied. If they lied about that, what else did they lie about? Maybe Tina’s son wasn’t Neil’s after all. ‘Why didn’t she tell Neil she was pregnant? Why didn’t you?’