by Louise Voss
This was it, thought Georgia hazily. Now it was all coming out, it didn’t feel too bad. It was all like a dream, anyway, a half-waking nightmare. Nothing left to lose.
She forced herself to remember. She’d been on the loo at Alice’s; that was when she first got the idea …
It was a brilliant idea.
She could pay Jerome back – and buy a car to have driving lessons in with the leftover cash! She was dying to have a Mini Cooper, a red one with a black sunroof. The gripes in her stomach ceased. Georgia sat very still on the toilet, staring at the words ‘£100,000’ in bold black newsprint. It was a dead cert that if they were offering that for the other two missing kids, there’d be a similar reward if a third child went missing, maybe even more.
Frankie knew Georgia. She wouldn’t object if Georgia took her on a little adventure. Georgia had the keys to her parents’ flat in her pocket because that was where they’d filmed their movie. Her mum and dad never went to the flat. Every couple of months her mum muttered something about ‘getting round to renting it out again’ – but they didn’t need the money, so they never did get round to it, and the flat stayed empty. It was only five minutes’ walk from here.
It was a no-brainer.
Georgia felt a new and exciting rush of optimism. She’d found a solution! She flushed, washed her hands and crept back onto the landing and halfway back up the stairs towards Alice’s room. As she’d suspected, all had fallen silent, but when she listened hard she could hear a few little moans and gasps. Excellent.
She tiptoed back downstairs and found a Waitrose carrier bag in the kitchen into which she put a couple of the plastic sippy cups and a bottle with a teat that she selected from the dozens in the cupboard. Helen was the sort of mum who stockpiled stuff in the kitchen like nuclear war was about to break out any minute – the cupboard next to the fridge was packed full of long-life milk, cereal bars, boxes of raisins and Pom-Bear crisps. She found night-time nappies under the sink, and took half a dozen of those. Nobody would notice a few things missing, and tomorrow she could go out and get some more supplies if she stole cash from her mum’s purse. She glanced at the huge clock on the wall – 10:05 P.M. They wouldn’t be back till probably eleven at least, and Alice and Larry would likely be in bed for half an hour.
She left the bulging Waitrose bag by the back door and crept back upstairs. Frankie was wearing pink pyjamas with Tinkerbell on and was breathing steadily around the thumb plugged loosely into her mouth. She was hot, and little spikes of black hair were plastered to her forehead. She looked so sweet.
Georgia had her first moment of doubt. Would Frankie sleep alright with her in the double bed in the flat? What would she do with her, when she had to go out to get stuff? She could hardly take her with her. But, she reckoned, it was only for a few days, and she wouldn’t leave Frankie for long when she did have to go out. Nobody would hear if she cried – it was a garden flat facing away from the road, and as far as Georgia knew, nobody was living in the first-floor flat, and when they’d been there the other day to make the movie, post for the people on the top floor was all piled up in the hallway, so they must be away …
Should she? She looked down at Frankie again. Helen would go out of her mind with worry. Perhaps there’d be some way she could let her know Frankie was safe? No, don’t be stupid, she thought. It would be fine. It would just be for a couple of days, then she could march into a police station carrying Frankie, saying she heard crying in the park, went to investigate and found her abandoned there, of course recognizing her immediately because she was her friend’s little sister. Everyone would be ecstatically happy with her. She’d get the reward – and, undoubtedly, her allowance reinstated. Helen and Sean would be so grateful! She smiled, already bathing in the glory of it all. Already picturing herself driving to college in her new Mini. She’d be able to afford the road tax and driving lessons and everything. All for the sake of two days of discomfort for her and Frankie, and worry for Helen, Alice and Sean.
Yes, it was more than worth the risk.
She scooped Frankie out of her cot and Frankie snuffled, opening and closing her mouth like a goldfish. There was a baby monitor on her chest of drawers, but it wasn’t switched on. Georgia knew that this was because she so rarely woke up any more, once she was asleep, and if she did, her voice was plenty loud enough to alert her parents without additional amplification.
‘Come on, sweetie-pie,’ she whispered. ‘We’re going for an adventure. You up for it? It would really help me out if you are.’ She hoisted Frankie up in her arms so that her head was on her shoulder. Wow, she was heavy. She considered taking the pushchair, then dismissed the idea – surely real kidnappers wouldn’t do that. Frankie babbled something, then went straight back to sleep, still clutching her weird thin little teddy bear. Excellent.
Georgia tiptoed down the stairs and out the back door, picking up the carrier bag on the way. When the cool night air hit Frankie’s fat hot cheeks, she jerked her head up and wailed briefly, and Georgia had to clap a hand over her mouth. She froze in the shadows of the back garden, staring up at Alice’s bedroom window, but there was no movement. Alice was obviously too busy with Larry to have heard anything. The neighbouring houses were dark and silent on both sides.
She hurried down to the end of the garden, Frankie’s weight already making the small of her back hurt. Thank God the flat wasn’t far away. But how would she avoid being spotted on her way? Once Frankie was reported missing, someone was bound to report seeing her being carried away. Georgia hadn’t thought about that. She paused by the back gate, thinking fast. She knew the area well – she and Alice used to play on their bikes in the maze of back alleys that people put their bins out in, the thin arteries connecting all the big houses. Once she crossed the road, it was, she realized with joy, possible to get all the way to the flat just through the alleys.
She waited in the dusk by the back gate to make sure nobody was about, no silent dog-walkers or those bloody insane joggers who seemed to be running around at all hours. Frankie opened her eyes and looked at Georgia with surprise, so Georgia stroked her soft head and pushed the teddy up to her face for her to cuddle.
‘It’s OK, Frankie, go back to sleep,’ she said. A VW campervan rolled very slowly along the road, as though its driver was looking for a parking spot, and Georgia shrank back against the gate. But to her horror, the driver, a black woman, stared straight at her. Shit shit shit, she thought, closing her eyes. Fuck!
She couldn’t believe it. The first person who’d passed by had seen her! Her heart rate accelerated and she thought she was going to cry. Should she just take Frankie back now, forget the whole thing?
But the woman couldn’t have got a clear look at her – and may well have not even spotted that she had Frankie on her shoulder. It was almost dark now. She shouldn’t worry. She was probably just being paranoid.
She waited a few minutes. No more cars came by, and when Georgia stuck out her head, there was no sign of joggers, or anybody else. The street was dark and quiet now, just the lingering smell in the air of a dying summer’s day. A sudden movement startled her, but it was just a fox, slinking silently along the pavement.
Georgia made her move, rushing across the road and a few houses down until she reached the next alley.
She didn’t notice the woman, following her at a discreet distance. She had absolutely no idea that she’d been followed at all, until she was fiddling with the keys outside the secluded front door of her parents’ flat.
The voice hissed in her ear, taking her by complete surprise, so much so that she almost dropped Frankie, and Frankie dropped her teddy.
‘Give her to me. Now.’
Patrick sat in stunned silence for a few moments after the clearly exhausted Georgia finished telling her tale. He stared at the photo on Georgia’s phone. The woman was in her late thirties, he would guess. She looked a little like Helen Philips – the same skin tone, almond eyes, Cupid’s bow lips.
&nbs
p; ‘Did she see you take her photo?’ he asked.
‘Yes. And she grabbed my phone and deleted the picture.’
‘I’m confused.’
Georgia gave him a look that made him feel very old. ‘I have my phone set to save pictures directly to the Cloud. You know, online. So there’s, like, a copy on my phone and one on the internet. That means I never lose them, and I can publish the ones I like on Facebook or whatever.’
‘That’s amazing,’ Patrick said.
The first thing he needed to do, after making sure every cop in London had this photo, was show it to the Philips family, see if they recognized this woman.
‘Why didn’t you come to us, tell us what you’d done? You could see the pain you caused Alice and Helen and Sean. How could you bear it?’
Georgia turned her face away, unable to meet his eye. ‘I couldn’t tell them what I’d done. Alice would hate me forever. Everyone would hate me. And I thought I’d go to prison.’ She rolled her head on the pillow, looked at him at last. ‘I was scared.’
Patrick shook his head.
‘Detective?’ Georgia said quietly. Patrick felt terribly sorry for her. She had done something unutterably stupid, and compounded it through selfishness and fear, but now her face was ruined. Her life would never be the same. Her life would never be as good.
‘Yes, Georgia?’
‘If you find her … If Frankie is alright … Will I be able to claim the reward?’
I’ve got my period. For years, every time it arrived I would cry with frustration and rage. I knew I could get pregnant, that there was nothing wrong with me. The doctors confirmed it. Howard’s sperm count was low-to-average, but they were there, wriggling away inside him and several times a month, without fail, wriggling inside me too. They just never did their job.
And for years – though I could never tell my husband this – I knew deep down why I never got pregnant. It was because of what I’d done. Of what had happened to me. This was my punishment. Every month the blood would arrive, reminding me of the terrible secret I forced myself to forget the rest of the time, that I blotted out with pills and dope and sunshine.
My shame. My past.
Today, though, the arrival of my period doesn’t make me sob or scream. Because now I finally have a child of my own.
Once again.
I will never forget the look on that idiot girl’s face when I confronted her and took Frankie. I knew the teenager wouldn’t scream or cry out. She wouldn’t want to attract attention to what she’d done. She was trapped with her terrible secret.
I didn’t intend to keep Frankie at first. I was going to take her straight back but once I’d got her in the van I realized something: I wanted to spend some time with her. Quality time, getting to know her. She wasn’t scared that night. She was too sleepy and confused. She went to sleep almost immediately and I sat and stroked her hair, thinking that she was beautiful.
When morning came she wanted to know where mummy and daddy were. I promised I’d take her home, and even set off towards their house, planning to drop her off nearby, sure she would find her way home.
But the nearer we got to the house, the more I realized I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t take her back.
She was so perfect. The child I’d always dreamed of. I deserved her and Sean and Helen didn’t. It was as simple as that. Why should they have everything while I had nothing?
So I kept driving. Out of the city. We drove for miles and miles.
I knew the police would think that Frankie (and I would change her name, as soon as I could) had been taken by the same people who had taken Izzy and Liam, the children who were all over the news. Unless that teenage moron confessed – and I couldn’t see that happening – the police would be on the wrong trail.
It was so easy. For the first time in my shit life, I had a stroke of luck.
I used to think God hated me. Now, it seemed, He was finally on my side.
Until they caught the people who took Liam and killed Izzy. Since then, I’ve been worried. Any day now they are going to find out what happened. That teen is going to crack and confess. Or someone will see us.
The more I think about it, the more determined I am that we will never be torn apart again. I can’t let that happen. I lost everything once, and now I’ve got what I’ve wanted all these years, I would rather die than lose it again.
I insert the tampon and wash my hands. Frankie is lying on the bed, her hair matted and filthy. She flinches when I reach out a hand to stroke it.
There’s a newspaper lying on the floor, one I picked up earlier. There, on page five, is the familiar photo. ‘Helen and Sean Philips with their missing daughter, Frankie.’ I touch Sean’s face then fold the paper over so Helen, on the far left, is removed.
A voice behind me says, ‘Daddy.’
The van stinks. I’m sick of living like this. Sick of running.
I know what I have to do.
I sit beside Frankie and stroke her soft hair. ‘How would you like it if we were together forever and ever?’ I whisper.
Chapter 41
Patrick – Day 7
It was 11:15 in the morning and Sean Philips smelled of drink – not the stale morning-after fumes Patrick had detected on his last visit to this house, but the fresh stink of spirits on his breath. His eyes were watery and unfocused and when he said, ‘You again,’ there was a noticeable slur.
‘You’d better come in,’ he said, walking into the living room and slumping down on the sofa. The TV was on, playing a rerun of Columbo. Sean giggled. ‘Got one more thing to ask me, eh?’
Patrick took a seat. ‘Are you alright, Sean?’
‘Oh, never better!’ His head jerked around like he was looking for something, before he deflated back into the folds of the sofa.
‘Where’s Helen?’ Patrick asked.
‘Don’t know. She took off first thing this morning, before I was even up. Probably sick of the sight of me, and who can blame her? She thinks I’m useless. You saw us arguing the other day. It’s like that all the time now. She sleeps so close to the edge of the bed that I keep thinking she’s going to fall out. I think I disgust her. She just sits on Facebook all day. She was on it when I went to bed last night. Marriages don’t survive this kind of thing, do they? And Alice’s staying at Larry’s. I’ve driven them all away.’
‘Come on, Sean … At least you know Alice is safe, anyway.’
‘Yeah but you’re never going to find Frankie, are you?’ He stared at Patrick with red-rimmed eyes. Before Patrick could respond, Sean buried his face in his hands. Patrick promised himself that as soon as he got out of here he would get a FLO back here. Get Sean Philips to a counsellor.
Sean looked up. ‘When I met Helen, I thought she was the best thing that ever happened to me. I mean, I love Alice but …’ He swallowed hard. ‘But when Frankie was born, it was like, like … I was born. Reborn.’
Patrick waited.
‘She was so beautiful. It was a difficult birth, you know? Helen was in labour for nearly two days after being induced. We thought the baby was never going to come out. Helen was exhausted and when she was finally having proper contractions they gave her an epidural. She clung to me as they stuck the needle in her back. There was a tear … it rolled down her cheek, splashed on my bare arm. I’ve never loved her more than in that moment.’
‘I understand.’ Although privately Patrick thought Sean was being sentimental from too much alcohol. He would never have spoken to another man in such soppy terms.
‘And the epidural didn’t work. She was screaming with pain. The midwives were running in and out of the room. Finally, they got another anaesthetist in who did the epidural properly. Then we waited all night until Frankie finally came out. Nine pounds, she was. A bruiser.’
A smile flashed on his face then vanished as quickly as it had appeared. ‘Frankie. From that first moment, I knew how special she was.’ His voice dropped to a whisper. ‘She was my redemption.’
/> He sniffed loudly and wiped his nose on the back of his sleeve. Patrick saw Sean make a deliberate effort to pull himself together. His hands were trembling. ‘And now she’s gone.’
‘We are going to find her,’ Patrick said. He wondered how many times he’d said that in the last week. How many times he’d really believed it.
‘No,’ Sean said. ‘She’s gone forever. I’ve been reading up on it. The odds … they were long before, but now we’d need a miracle.’
‘Sean, something has happened. We’re making progress.’
‘What?’
Patrick took out his phone. ‘I’m going to show you a photograph. I just need to know if you’ve ever seen this person before.’
He crossed the room and, crouching down, showed Sean the photo Georgia had taken with her phone.
Sean stared at the picture for a long time. His hands, Patrick noticed, were trembling more violently now. Finally, he said, ‘No. I have no idea who she is. Why?’
Patrick tried not to let his huge disappointment show. ‘She’s someone we want to talk to, that’s all. Are you one hundred per cent certain you don’t recognize her.’
Sean shook his head. ‘I’ve never seen her before in my life.’
Patrick put the phone away. ‘Can you ask Helen to call me when she gets back?’
The other man stared into the middle distance.
‘Sean?’
‘Huh?’
‘I asked if you can get Helen to call me when she gets home.’
Sean Philips nodded and Patrick still wasn’t sure the words had got through. He sighed and got up. ‘I’ll talk to you again soon, OK?’
Sean said, ‘You’ve got a kid, haven’t you?’
‘Yes. A daughter. She’s almost two.’
Sean leaned in close, his alcoholic breath warm on Patrick’s face. ‘Look after her, whatever you do. Keep her close.’
Patrick paused by the open front door, feeling shaken. He needed to sort out some help for Sean, but the best thing he could do was find Frankie. He just had to find the woman who had taken her from Georgia – and pray that she hadn’t murdered her.