The Lost Child

by Ann Troup

  Her instinct was to answer the phone, but it wasn’t her house and whoever might be ringing might not be aware of her presence in Dan’s life. So she ignored its shrill ring while Dan, wrenched from sleep by the intrusive noise, fumbled for the receiver. His greeting was less than courteous, and his reaction to the caller proved anxiety provoking. He didn’t say much, just asked what had happened, thanked the caller and ended the call.

  ‘That was Tony,’ he said, all trace of sleep vanished by the intrusion of the phone. ‘Shirley is dead. She killed herself last night. The staff found her a few hours ago.’

  Elaine felt a wave of horror and dismay wash over her, it pulsed and writhed and pulled at her consciousness like a bird of prey making a kill. She couldn’t articulate a response, there had been a disconnect between her brain and her voice that felt like white noise, static and impenetrable.

  Dan patted her hand and gave her a look that spoke volumes to her about a man who was fast reaching the end of his rope and who was wondering how much more life wanted to throw at him. ‘I’ll go and wake Brodie, she won’t thank me for not telling her straight away. You put the kettle on,’ he said, rising from the bed. His movements seemed dogged by overwhelming weariness, and Elaine felt the weight of them settling on her conscience.

  Brodie took the news surprisingly well, saying it was bound to happen sooner or later, but nevertheless she sat hunched and unhappy in her onesie. Nursing an undrunk, rapidly cooling cup of coffee she looked like the epitome of misery. Dan was his usual capable, reassuring self while Elaine stood apart, consumed by inadequacy and failed by instinct. She had no idea how to reach out to Brodie and felt tremendous guilt now that the static had cleared. Scared to even admit it to herself, she also felt relief. Shirley was gone and was one less problem to deal with. Horrified by her own lack of compassion, she said nothing and hung back, letting Dan look after things as he always did. It was becoming a habit.

  She took her coffee and made her way into the lounge, standing by the window and peering through a crack in the curtains as if the creeping dawn could provide insight and sanity where age and experience could not. Dan followed her.

  ‘Brodie’s gone upstairs for a bath, I think she wants to be on her own for a bit. You OK?’ he asked.

  Elaine couldn’t even look at him as she nodded. Her instinct was just to keep looking at the world outside and hope it would give her answers.

  ‘She wants to go back to their flat today, get her things. I think she’s frightened that Fern will get there first and she won’t have a chance to take what she needs. I said we’d take her,’ his voice was dull with resignation.

  Elaine nodded again, ‘OK.’

  There was a long pause, she knew that Dan was still there. She could sense him.

  ‘This might change things, Shirley was her legal guardian. I don’t know whether Tony will step up to the plate now, but she might not be able to stay with us.’

  This was one subject Elaine felt confident of being able to discuss. ‘He won’t. He cares about her, but not enough to stick his neck out and do what’s right. He’s not like you Dan. She has no one, only us. Whatever happens I’ll keep her with me – besides she’s sixteen soon, she can make her own choices.’

  She heard him sigh, and it made her wince, ‘OK, we’ll see how it pans out. I’m going to phone Jack in a minute, I think the press will liven up again in light of this so I’d like his advice on how we proceed.’

  Elaine finally turned to him and nodded, wondering how Jack, the man who’d spent half his life trying to find Mandy, felt now that he had found her. She doubted he was finding much gratification in the event.

  *

  Dan parked the Aston in the courtyard that constituted parking for the three tower blocks that surrounded it. The dull concrete blocks purported to be homes, evidenced by the fluttering laundry that flourished on the balconies and the litter of neglected toys, rusting bikes and rubbish bags that flanked the rank of huge wheelie bins. It was a depressing, miserable place and it summed up how he felt. Oppressed. Given that their arrival had aroused significant attention from the locals, in particular a group of youths, Dan was reluctant to leave the car but felt obliged to accompany Brodie and Elaine on their quest. One of the lads had called out ‘Nice car mate.’ So figuring he would catch more flies with honey Dan offered him twenty quid to keep an eye on it, praying the bribe would do the trick and that his pride and joy would be intact on his return. He should have brought the van, or driven Elaine’s car through the reinvigorated throng of reporters who were cluttering up the road outside his house. This cloak and dagger existence was beginning to grate on him. All he wanted to do was wrap Elaine and Brodie up and spirit them away to a better life. Though it seemed that fate had other plans.

  They managed to run the gauntlet of concerned neighbours expressing their less than heartfelt condolences to Brodie. Not to mention the curious stares, which Elaine drew from those familiar with who she must be and the story attached to her. It wasn’t pleasant, but they coped with it fairly well. They managed to reach the worn and uninviting flat relatively unscathed.

  An odour of stale air and rotting food greeted them in the hallway. Embarrassed, Brodie explained that when Shirley had been sectioned everything had happened quickly and they were forced to leave in a hurry. Dan gathered that the contents of the kitchen had been happily rotting and fermenting ever since, not helped by the lack of electricity. The flat had a key meter, and the money had run out.

  The whole flat was tainted with squalor and indifference and he had to wonder how Brodie had survived at all in such a place. No wonder she was such a defensive little thing, she would have had to do something to keep the desolation at bay. It clutched at his heart to think that she had grown up in such awful surroundings.

  Brodie went off to her bedroom to gather her things and he and Elaine were left in the lounge. He watched Elaine as she took in the shrine to her unknown self. Every surface bore an image of Mandy; even the television was topped and dominated by the face of the smiling, happy toddler. That particular picture sported a dusty plastic rose that had been taped to its corner. That single relic seemed to embody and emanate the interminable sadness that hung around the room, as cloying and penetrating as a damp fog. Dan could feel the desperation reach his bones and it made him shiver in a vain attempt to shake it off.

  Elaine moved towards the picture and extended a hand, as if she wanted to stroke the face of the child who had been perpetually suspended in time by the photographer. She withdrew her fingers at the last moment as if the action might acknowledge her sorrow. It seemed as if she was searching the images in the room for something familiar, something of herself that had been lost. The niggling doubts that Dan had been experiencing about the troubled woman in front of him disappeared as he watched her move around the room. In that moment he would have lain down and died if the action would have brought her happiness. The gap between them suddenly felt too great and he stepped across the sad room and put his arms around her, bringing her back where she belonged.

  Brodie came in dragging two black bin liners that obviously contained her worldly goods. ‘Isn’t there anything else you want to take?’ he asked.

  Brodie scanned the room, ‘Nope, I’ve got what I came for. This is all hers, Tony and Fern can do what they like with it,’ she said, dismissive of the place that had been her home.

  Dan sensed the anger that was brewing for what Shirley had done. Brodie may not have cried yet, but it would come. Grief was a strange bedfellow at the best of times. He and Elaine followed her out of the flat, and stood like mourners at a graveside as she shut the front door on her old life. Like a bearer Dan hoisted one of the bags onto his shoulder and carried it down to the car, which was mercifully still in one piece.

  *

  As Dan and Brodie wedged the bags into the car, Elaine moistened a tissue with her tongue and dabbed at the remnants of Jean that lay in the foot-well. Elaine knew that Dan loved the car,
and hated to think that she might have sullied it in any way, much like she hated the fact that she was sullying his life. The pity hug in Shirley’s lounge had been unbearable, it seemed like everything was being filtered through the actions of the two people who had called themselves her mother. In fact the only thing that did feel bearable was the love she felt for Brodie, who seemed to her more lost than Mandy had ever been. As she thought about the little girl and tried to relate what she knew about herself to the angelic image, it occurred to her that she didn’t know how to be loved. Shirley had obsessed, Jean had cleaved, and every man she had known before Dan had treated her as if they were doing her a favour in accepting her flaws. She didn’t know how to be loved, and consequently had never learned how to love. Yet she was mastering it with Brodie. Despite their age difference it felt like there was an equality between them, each was happy to accept what was available from the other. Brodie did not demand self esteem as Dan seemed to, neither did she demand unquestioning devotion as Jean had. Elaine wasn’t sure what Shirley would have wanted from her, but judging from the shrine to Mandy it would have been something extraordinary and ungiveable.

  Realising that Dan and Brodie were waiting for her, she wiped her hands on the Jean-sodden tissue and climbed into the car. As they pulled away she looked at Dan, wishing she could be the woman she thought he wanted, the woman he had been imagining for all the years they had been apart. Jean was having none of it.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Fern arrived the next morning in a cloud of cheap perfume and indignation. Her entrance was accompanied by a flurry of excitement from the press who still thronged the road. Both Brodie and Elaine winced when flashbulbs fired as Dan opened the front door and Fern pushed her way in, demanding to see Brodie.

  Dan stood by looking affronted as the blowsy woman clutched Brodie in a fume-laden false embrace, to which Brodie objected most strongly. After the child had extracted herself, scowling at the assault, Fern turned her eyes to the adults and, hands on hips, demanded ‘So which one of you fuckers thinks you’ve got rights to keep her here against her will?’

  Both Elaine and Dan were struck dumb by the assertion.

  ‘I’m not here against my will, they’re looking after me,’ Brodie said in a tone laden with contempt for the woman.

  ‘Oh, is that right, well, there’s no need now is there? Get your stuff, you’re coming with me,’ Fern said, moving to the door and indicating that Brodie should do her bidding without argument.

  Before either Dan or Elaine could speak Brodie interjected, ‘No chance, I’m not going anywhere with you!’

  ‘Now listen here Brodie, I know you know the score, Tony told me. So, get your stuff. I’m your mother, you’re coming with me.’

  Brodie looked at Elaine helplessly.

  ‘I don’t think we should be forcing her to make any decisions at the moment, do you? She’s been through enough. She’s welcome to stay as long as she likes,’ Elaine said, her words more assertive than the look on her face.

  Fern wheeled round and treated Elaine to a look of utter contempt, ‘And who the fuck are you to tell me what I should be thinking? It’s down to you that we’re all in this mess in the first place. I fucking hated you when you were a kid, and I hate you even more now. You should have stayed dead, lady. You always were a spoiled little brat, looks like nothing’s changed,’ she spat.

  The pronouncement stunned Elaine into silence, but galvanised Dan who had already moved in front of Brodie.

  ‘Get the hell out of my house!’ he shouted.

  Fern looked at him as if he were an annoying fly. ‘I’m not going anywhere without my daughter,’ she said, taunting them with her cocksure confidence.

  Dan took a breath and calmly said through gritted teeth. ‘Leave. Now. Or I will pick you up and throw you out.’

  The controlled calm seemed to have more effect on Fern than the flash of temper and she took a step back. ‘I know my rights,’ she said, her arrogant composure appearing shoddy and ludicrous in the face of Dan’s livid stare.

  ‘I’m sure you do lady, but before rights come responsibilities and it’s a shame you didn’t take more notice of those. Now get the fuck out of my house, NOW.’ He delivered his message with a coldness that chilled everyone in the room.

  Fern faltered and took another step back. ‘I’ll go to court, I’ll have you,’ she said.

  Dan moved towards her, ‘Well off you go and do that, in the meantime Brodie stays here. Got it?’

  Fern treated them all to one final scathing look, turned on her heel and slammed out of the house.

  Elaine watched with mounting dismay as Fern paused to talk to the reporters outside. Pointing at the house with one hand, the other resting on her hip, she told the eager newsmen her tale of woe.

  When Elaine turned to Dan she saw he was still shaking with temper, she looked at Brodie who shrugged and said, ‘Welcome to my world.’

  ‘I’ve got to get out of here,’ Dan said, ‘I need some bloody space.’

  Elaine followed him into the hall and watched as he wrenched his jacket from its peg and rammed himself into it.

  ‘Are you OK?’ she asked, realising instantly that it was a really stupid question.

  ‘I’ll be fine, just need to go and work this temper off. I’m going to the yard,’ he grabbed his keys from the hall table and stalked towards the back door.

  Elaine knew from bitter experience that when someone was in that kind of mood the best thing to do was to leave them well alone. She also knew that generally people told you everything you needed to know by the actions that they took.

  Brodie was close behind her, looking frightened and upset. ‘Is he OK?’ she asked, her voice tremulous.

  ‘He will be,’ Elaine said, her heart sinking. ‘Brodie, I think it’s time we left. Dan has been wonderful but we can’t keep bringing this kind of thing into his life, it’s not fair.’

  ‘But we can’t leave without talking to him,’ Brodie said, her words agreeing but her tone worried.

  ‘We won’t, I’ll write him a note. If we stay and talk to him he’ll talk me out of it because he’s a good and caring man. I just don’t feel we can keep on imposing on him like this.’

  Brodie nodded as if she could see the sense in Elaine’s argument, ‘I know, but I thought you liked him and he liked you.’

  ‘I do, I like him very much, probably too much. That’s why I want to spare him any more of this. I don’t want Fern coming back and shouting the odds. We’re not his problem Brodie,’ Elaine said, appealing to the girl’s sense of justice.

  Brodie sighed, her shoulders slumping with resignation, ‘I really like it here, I like him too. Where will we go?’

  ‘I don’t know, a hotel probably at least until I work something out. Go and get your stuff together while I sort out somewhere to stay and write a note for Dan, and hurry. I want to be gone by the time he gets back.’

  ‘Good job I didn’t unpack,’ Brodie grumbled. Her disappointment was tangible, but she went upstairs to gather her things nonetheless.

  Through the window she could still see Fern, leaning against the front wall and smoking a cigarette. On a whim she tapped on the window and gestured to the woman to come back up to the house. Fern raised her eyebrows, turned, said something to the reporter she had been talking to then started to amble up the drive towards the front door. As Elaine opened it, Fern ground out her cigarette on the step. ‘Where’s the guard dog?’ she said as she stepped back into the hall.

  ‘Gone to cool off.’ Elaine said. ‘Come through to the kitchen.’

  Fern followed her down the hallway and coolly took in her surroundings. ‘Nice gaff, you fell on your feet didn’t ya? Anyway, what d’you want? Changed your mind about Brodie already?’

  Elaine shook her head. ‘No, not at all. But I wanted to talk to you. It seems wrong that we should get off to such a bad start after everything that’s happened. After all it’s not Brodie’s fault, and to be honest it’s not mine.
I was three years old, Fern.’

  Fern gave her a scathing look ‘You trying to fucking say it was mine? You think it’s my fault that kid was an evil little shit-bag and that some woman stole you? You might have been three, but I was only fourteen. Fuck you Mandy, you ruined my life then and you’re trying to do it again now!’

  ‘I didn’t sell you out to the papers though.’ Elaine said distractedly, fine lights were starting to prickle in the corner of her eye. It meant a headache was brewing.

  Fern bristled. ‘Huh! You don’t think that some of us should get something out of this then? Doesn’t seem to bother you that your little boyfriend is milking it for all he’s worth though, does it? Just as long as us scumbags don’t profit, is that it?’

  Elaine didn’t have a clue what she was talking about, the lights had begun to oscillate and her head was getting fuzzy. ‘Sorry? I don’t know what you mean.’

  ‘Old Alex Hoity-Toity, we can’t get away from how marvellous he’s been about you being found. I suppose you don’t mind him benefitting from the good news do you? Quite the little vote puller aren’t you? Does the guard dog know about your “special” friendship, or is he happy to share? I thought I was supposed to be the slutty one in the family.’

  By this point, Elaine was clutching her forehead, unable to see. Fern’s words had become a dull hum.

  ‘Leave her alone and just go.’ Brodie said from the doorway.

  Fern glowered at her daughter. ‘Didn’t anyone tell you you shouldn’t listen at keyholes kid?’

  ‘No need with you talking, you’re like a fog horn.’ Brodie parried. She walked over to Elaine and pressed a couple of her painkillers into her hand, then she fetched some water. ‘Drink that and sit down.’ she said, pulling out a chair for Elaine.

  ‘What’s up with her?’ Fern asked, wrong footed by Brodie’s TLC of Elaine.

  ‘You. That’s what’s up with her. That perfume alone is enough to give someone a migraine.’