by Linda Huber
He pushed the little girl’s door open. Hailey was sitting on her bed, the doll called Maggie cradled against her shoulder. Her face was tearstained and to Phillip’s horror there was an ugly red welt on her cheek. He could see the outline of Jennifer’s fingers. In two steps he was beside Hailey.
‘Daddy,’ she said, and Phillip took her in his arms.
He sat on the bed with her in his arms and rocked back and forth. This child might look like his own girl, but her character was different, and now Jennifer was turning against her. She wasn’t the same doting mother as she was to the twins.
Phillip took a shaky breath, trying desperately to hold back his tears. The fog had disappeared for the moment and the guilt came crushing in. Hailey being here was as much his fault now as Jennifer’s. Quite deliberately he had done an unforgivable wrong to Hailey. Hailey who wasn’t Hailey, and he didn’t even know her name.
And the horrible, ironic thing was that Jennifer, who had taken the child in the first place, didn’t want her any more. And it wasn’t just Hailey who was unwanted, no, both he and Daniel were surplus to requirements as well. Jennifer had her baby daughter. Nothing else mattered.
And it was much too late to put it right.
Part Four
The Accident
Chapter One
Mid November
A buzz of chatter filled the air, and Katie looked round contentedly. November was such a cosy month in a classroom. The wind might blow and the rain might pour, but here inside they were like those well-known bugs in a rug. The room was bright and cheerful in spite of the greyness outside, and everyone was busy.
That afternoon the children were making birthday cakes with coloured dough.
‘Make the best birthday cake you’ve ever had, if you can remember,’ said Katie. ‘If you can’t remember, make the best cake you can imagine. Tomorrow we’ll have a secret ballot – that’s when everyone votes for their favourite – and the winner gets a prize!’
She held up a red and white striped pencil. The children set to work at the craft table, and Katie sat watching them. She was continuing her Families theme, ready to run it into a Christmas theme in a week or two. After birthdays they would talk about other family celebrations, and that would lead naturally into Christmas.
They’ve made so much progress since the summer, she thought, looking round the group of chattering children. Derek didn’t stutter half as much now, and he got through most days without bashing anyone or being ganged up on, and Hailey - Hailey was much better too.
Katie frowned. Hailey was much better, but... There was a distinctly odd ‘but’ about Hailey, yet it was difficult to put a finger on what it was exactly. The little girl had been much happier in the weeks since her father’s return, and most days she was even quite talkative and certainly a lot livelier than before, but she still had moments of sitting staring into space and looking lost. She often talked about her father and the babies, but her mother might not have existed for all Hailey spoke of her. This was particularly noticeable at the moment, when they were discussing families every day. And while her reading and counting were fairly average, her writing, and most especially her drawing, were immature. If you could call a five-year-old immature. The child was a puzzle, even if she was getting on much better than Katie had expected at first.
Katie rose to her feet and wandered round the table. She found herself missing Mark more each day, and often thought about him up in chilly Aberdeen, looking after four children and running his sister’s house. But at least she’d had no major problems to deal with since his departure, and the way things were going, Katie wasn’t expecting any.
Most of the children had created cakes of the round-with-candles variety. Julia’s, however, was a heart shape, and Aiden was attempting something in green. Katie stopped at his side.
‘What is it, exactly?’ she asked, and Aiden heaved a sigh.
‘It’s a frog. But I’m not doing it very well.’
‘You had a frog birthday cake?’
‘I always have an animal. Mummy makes them. Next birthday I’m having a dinosaur.’
‘Gosh. What a clever mummy you have.’
Katie went on to Hailey, who was creating a more traditionally-shaped cake with a blue and green top. The little girl’s face was pink with concentration, and Katie smiled.
‘You’re looking well, Hailey - bet you’re enjoying having your dad home.’
Hailey nodded slowly. ‘I don’t need pills anymore,’ she said suddenly.
‘Well that’s good. And what a lovely cake.’
‘I had a sea cake with three candles,’ said Hailey, lifting a chunk of brown dough. ‘With marzipan waves and a marzipan boat on top. I love marzipan. This is going to be the boat.’
‘Super,’ said Katie. ‘Did Mummy make it?’
Hailey’s face clouded. She shrugged, and went on shaping her little brown boat. Katie didn’t press her. It was just another instance of Hailey being distant.
When most of the children were finished, Katie clapped her hands for silence.
‘Tomorrow,’ she said, ‘I want you to bring birthday photos. We’re going to make posters. We’ll enlarge the photos on the colour copier, stick them on poster paper and you can draw and write things in between. Bring a photo of your first birthday, your second birthday, your third birthday and so on. It doesn’t have to be a cake photo, just a birthday photo. Does everyone understand?’
Everyone did, and Katie started them clearing up for going home.
The next morning Katie was greeted by a small crowd of children waving envelopes of various sizes.
‘I remembered!’
‘We printed mine out already!’
‘And I brought one of me when I was just born!’
‘What a good idea,’ said Katie, laughing. ‘Right, kids, let’s get settled now, are we all here?’
‘Hailey and Graeme!’ called several children.
‘We’ll wait, then. Has everyone written their name on their photo envelope?’
Four or five heads bent to work, and Katie went to get the poster paper from the office cupboard. When she returned, Mr Marshall and Hailey were standing beside her desk. Hailey was holding an envelope, an oddly defiant expression on her face.
‘Morning, Mr Marshall. Hello, Hailey.’
Katie looked inquiringly at Hailey’s father. He looked tired, but then he’d probably forgotten what a full night’s sleep felt like, with baby twins at home. He cleared his throat, and she noticed a muscle jumping under one eye.
‘We had a problem with Hailey’s photos. I’m afraid a couple of albums seem to have been mislaid when my wife moved house, and my laptop where they are stored is out of order. Hailey only has photos of her first two birthdays.’
‘That’s quite all right, don’t worry. Hailey can draw pictures of her other birthdays, can’t you, Hailey?’
Mr Marshall seemed to be in a hurry, so Katie saw him to the door. Hailey remained standing by the desk, still looking unhappy.
‘It’s really alright, Hailey,’ said Katie, putting her hand on the little girl’s head. ‘Things do get mislaid when people move house. Your albums will probably turn up when no-one’s looking for them.’
‘They won’t,’ said Hailey, blinking hard. ‘My albums are all still at the old house. I didn’t bring them. I didn’t bring anything.’
‘I’m sure Mummy packed your albums somewhere,’ said Katie, patting the short hair, which was looking much better now that it was growing out. Strange how it looked darker though. ‘Don’t worry, Hailey. We’ll manage with what you’ve got here.’
Hailey went to her desk, and Katie thought how the Marshalls did seem to be more than a little casual about their daughter’s treasures. Lost albums now... The list was getting longer.
The class settled down to work on a writing worksheet. One at a time, Katie took the children who needed to photocopy through to the office, leaving Alison to oversee the rest of the class. Hailey
was still looking unhappy when it was her turn.
‘This is a super cake too, Hailey,’ said Katie, holding up Hailey’s first birthday photo. A chubby baby with a thick hatch of unruly hair beamed out from behind a teddy bear cake. Hailey sniffed.
‘I don’t remember it,’ she said.
‘Well, I don’t suppose you do. Let’s - ’
‘I don’t remember any of them. I had a beautiful sea cake, I don’t want those.’
Hailey banged the photos down on the table and stood there, her lip trembling. Her face was flushed, and a slight bruise on her left cheek flared angrily.
Katie was amazed. The child had never been anything other than fully cooperative.
‘Hailey, are you alright?’
‘I don’t want those photos.’
Hailey was speaking through real tears now, and Katie thought quickly.
‘Alright. We’ll go back to the classroom and you can draw your birthday pictures.’
Hailey agreed to this and set to work, alone at the crafts table. Katie finished photocopying with the remaining children then sat down beside Hailey. The sea cake was there, carefully drawn and coloured, plus a round cake with two candles and another with just one.
‘That’s looking good,’ said Katie encouragingly. ‘What about your fourth birthday now? What kind of cake did you have then, can you remember?’
Hailey blinked up at her. ‘I was going to have pink and white candles on a pink cake,’ she whispered. ‘My mum and me bought the candles and we were going to make it and I wanted a party on the beach like last year. I wanted that!’
To Katie’s horror she went chalk white and sat there rigidly, staring at nothing and trembling. Two tears ran down her cheeks. Katie put her arms round the little girl and called to the assistant.
‘Alison, go quickly for Nora Wilson. Tell her Hailey’s ill again.’
The girl shot off, and returned a few minutes later with Nora.
‘She was drawing a birthday cake,’ said Katie helplessly, still cuddling Hailey.
‘Come on, Hailey,’ said Nora, feeling the little girl’s forehead. ‘Let’s get you tucked up with a blanket and a hot water bottle, shall we?’
Katie watched unhappily as Nora led Hailey off, then turned back to the table and collected Hailey’s drawings. Miserably, she went back to the rest of the class. There was still something going on with Hailey, something they just weren’t getting.
Chapter Two
Phillip Marshall turned the car back towards Polpayne. Normally he enjoyed Hailey’s company, but it was a relief to have left her at school this morning. A simple request for a couple of photos had turned into a major problem, and Hailey had been more distressed last night than he had ever seen her. There had been an almost wild look on her face when she’d told him about the photos, and desperation shone out of her eyes when he produced Hailey’s – his Hailey’s – baby albums. She must have been remembering the birthdays she’d had before, birthdays spent with her real family. Something like that could happen any time, any place.
He wasn’t in control of his life now, he thought, biting his lip as he remembered the child’s face when he told Miss McLure they had lost the photo albums. It wasn’t a lie, the albums were nowhere to be found. Jennifer apparently had ‘lost’ the ones with photos of their daughter as an older child. It would have been plain to see in those photos that his own girl and the Hailey they had now were two different children.
Stopped at the lights, Phillip rubbed his eyes, wondering exactly how much Hailey remembered about her old life. She lived in their family and called them Mummy and Daddy, but she must know that they were living a lie. And unless she had blanked everything, which given her reaction now was unlikely, she must remember a whole lot. She definitely hadn’t wanted to take these photos to school. What was stopping her from speaking up, telling Miss McLure who she was? Hailey was very fond of her teacher, he saw that every day, but how did she feel about her new family? It was obvious that she loved the babies, and he knew she liked him too, but - Jennifer?
That bruise on Hailey’s face where Jennifer had hit her, what a shameful thing that was. There had been lies then too, to explain away the mark when Hailey went back to school. He’d kept her off for three days, until the finger marks had gone. Had there been other bruises too, before he came home? He’d looked as well as he could without finding anything when he’d bathed her the day Jennifer had struck her, but then bruises don’t take forever to fade. What if Hailey told someone about the bruise, or about the photos, or about anything at all?
‘She won’t say anything,’ he said aloud, pulling into the harbour car park. There was no need to go home yet, a walk would do him good.
No, Hailey wouldn’t talk. Jennifer had obviously drummed it into her that she was Hailey Marshall now and never to say anything else. But why had she turned so queer and uncooperative about the photos? Was Jennifer’s terrible hold over the child slipping now that he was home taking care of her? Or was it something to do with her birthday? When was her birthday? But she was Hailey Marshall now, her birthday was the fifteenth of August.
Phillip took a deep breath of fishy sea air. How many times had he sat in front of the computer, willing his fingers to type? How often had he ignored those uncomfortable thoughts? Thoughts of that other family, the family who had lost their child. God forgive him for his weakness, but he had taken their child into his heart and he didn’t want to let her go. Worse than that, he couldn’t let her go. If he did he would lose everything, and they would send him to prison.
This was one of the days when the fog in his brain just didn’t hide the horror, and the pain of knowing what he’d done was enough to make him feel physically sick.
He stood by the boatyard, staring out towards the open sea. It was a cold, clear day, and the wind was salty against his lips. He could see a long way down the coast, dark cliffs and blue ocean. It was beautiful; it would have been a perfect place to live. He could have been so happy - a family man, like he’d always wanted. Daniel and Lara, his children. But there was Hailey too.
Phillip turned back to the car, allowing the fog to descend once again. Slowly, his guilt disappeared into the mist. It was better like this.
Chapter Three
Late November
‘Mum! I can’t find my football stuff!’
Joe thundered downstairs and burst into the kitchen where Maggie was filling his snack box for school. She grinned at him.
‘And for once that’s not your fault,’ she said, handing over the box. ‘It’s in the garage. Dad cleaned your boots for you last night, so remember to say thank you.’
‘Um. There’s Sue and Greg now. Bye, Mum!’
Maggie hugged him, and stood in the doorway waving as Sue’s car disappeared down the road. The usual deathly silence descended on the house, and Maggie sighed. Thank God she had her work to go to. Even though today was a free day, her job gave the week a definite structure, and it was something fresh to think about too. At the Geriatric Unit she was with people who didn’t know her except in her new role of helper. Being Maggie-who-feeds-Vi-Simpson felt reassuringly normal, in fact it was the one part of her life where she felt like the same person she had been before. And heaven knows she had plenty of time to do the work - she only had her son to care for now, and he was at school all day.
Joe’s routine was completely back to normal. He went to football practice twice a week and beaver scouts every Monday. His weekends were a mixture of family stuff with Maggie and Colin, and playing – usually football – with his friends, and last week he had gone on his first sleepover since the summer and had a ball. The nightmares had all but stopped, and he certainly looked happier again, almost his old self.
Slinky the cat rubbed against Maggie’s legs and she bent to stroke him.
‘Oh, Slinky. You remember Livvy, don’t you? She loved you to bits.’
Surely he remembered. He had loved Olivia too. And right now he was the only other livi
ng creature in the house, the only creature she could talk out loud to, and she had to talk some of the time to cover the silence.
Sighing, Maggie spooned cat food into Slinky’s bowl and then switched on the radio. She’d never been a background music kind of person before, but now the radio covered the silence more effectively than she and Slinky could. The nine o’clock news was on.
- still no sign of seven-year-old Carla Graham, who went missing during a family outing to Edinburgh Castle yesterday afternoon. The police have asked -
In a split second Maggie was back on the beach realising that Olivia was gone. Bent double, she retched violently before stumbling out to the bathroom. She vomited, then splashed water over her face and patted it dry, staring at her reflection. She was sheet-white and her eyes were wild.
Another little girl was missing. And this child too had disappeared from the middle of her family, just as Livvy had. Could there be a connection?
Had her daughter been taken? Abducted? And if she had, what had she suffered? How long had she been tortured, was she dead, how did she die, had she been raped, had she... Sometimes little girls were taken and abused for years...
A voice screamed inside her. Livvy had drowned, she had drowned...
Maggie struggled to order the thoughts crashing around her head. Edinburgh was right at the other end of the country...
Nausea took hold of her again, but she fought it down and went for the phone. She had to phone Howard. He would know.
Howard was at work, and she was on hold for ages before she eventually heard his voice. Breathless now, Maggie asked her questions, barely able to keep the scream of panic from her voice.
Howard’s voice was calm and reassuring, but he had nothing definite to tell her.
‘We’ve been in touch, of course, and at the moment there’s nothing to indicate a connection. Carla was with a big family group and she disappeared while the others were queuing for tickets or looking over the battlements or buying postcards. It took them about half an hour to realise that she really was gone, and it’s not quite impossible that she ran off. Just before she disappeared she and her mother had an argument about something Carla wanted to buy, and apparently there’s an absolute warren of streets and alleyways with shops around Edinburgh Castle. She still could be simply lost. Maggie, I realise this must be awful for you, but you have to believe that Olivia went into the sea that day. I’m still watching out for her, you know.’