Little Darlings

by Melanie Golding

  The wounds on Lauren’s arms, that the doctor had said she’d done to herself.

  The sightings of the woman, whom no one but Lauren could see.

  The missing babies, found by Natasha in the mill wheel tower in the woods, and no one else seen with them except the mother.

  Even the glitch trails on the CCTV: the bare foot. Of course the nurse wouldn’t have flinched, if it was a patient who had wandered by in the middle of the night. And now, the analysis of the 999 call had revealed that Lauren had been alone on the ward all along.

  Finally Harper forced herself to consider that what everyone else was saying might be true: that Lauren had done it all herself. Whether she knew it or not.

  When Harper had spoken to Lauren about the woman who took the babies, she’d talked about her being from the water. She’d said that the woman had taken them into the water, and changed them. Harper realised that Lauren didn’t mean that they’d been altered, or baptised in some way. She meant it literally: she thought the boys were changelings.

  She’s from the water, that woman. Where the two rivers meet. Just like these two.

  What if Lauren also thought she knew what Victoria did, about the solution.

  She’ll have to put them in the water, if she wants her own back. Right under the water.

  Harper pulled the car to the side of the road and dialled Thrupp. There was still time. There had to be.

  “Sir, I’ve had a rethink. I don’t think we’re going to find her at the unit.”

  “No?”

  “No. There’s something she said to me, that I’ve only just remembered. She’ll be heading for the place where the two rivers meet. The Bishop and the Selver.”

  “Where’s that?”

  “The only place it can be is at the reservoir. That’s where we’ll find her, the New Riverby.”

  “The reservoir? Can’t you pin it down any more than that? The bloody thing is miles wide. I’m at the unit now, and there are two routes to the reservoir, to opposite sides. If we go to the wrong one it can take up to ten minutes to get to the other on those tiny roads.”

  “Sorry sir, that’s all I know. We’ll have to split personnel to different search areas. And forget what I said about putting the ’copter on standby. I think we’ll need it as soon as possible.”

  “Oh really. Anything else?”

  “Yes. I’ll have Patrick picked up, and get him sent to the east side. If she’s there, maybe he can be a good influence. I’ll head west to the viaduct, so we’ve got two sides covered at least, with someone that she trusts. It’s closer from here to the east side, so the husband’s ETA will be about the same as mine to the west if we get him blue-lighted. Also, let’s notify the dive team, though I pray we won’t need them: I think we need to consider the possibility that she might intend to drown those babies.”

  CHAPTER FORTY

  Long deep cracks had formed in the mud at the edge of the lake, green algae stretched across the gaps in places, dried-out clumps of weed poking through, dead-looking. Perhaps the rain, when it came, would rejuvenate the plants after the long, dry summer; or perhaps it was already too late. Lauren looked out across the still water and for a moment there was peace. She took a breath, a lungful of the warm fresh air, a short respite before the next part. Her arms were burning inside and out, from the sun, from carrying the boys all this way. It had to be more than an hour since she’d ducked out of the gate with them. The babies hummed and chewed their fists, looking across to each other, and up at her with something like anticipation. As she approached the reservoir they started wriggling, the humming sound getting louder. They knew where they were, how close they were to the end of all this madness. This realisation gave her strength. But the doubts were still there, and growing. She’d been so sure that this was the right thing to do, that she’d ignored a small voice within her that told her she was wrong. What if the voice was her sanity, trying to talk sense to her? What was it the nurse had said? The ones who deny it the loudest are the most insane, in my experience.

  The small doubting voice spoke to her now. Look at the babies, it said, they’re your boys. They’re not changelings; it’s just your mind playing tricks. Think about it. If you put them under the water, they will drown.

  She heard the helicopter before she saw it, a faint disturbance in the air that became an oppressive pressure in her ears as it drew closer. The arrival of the police didn’t come as a surprise, as she knew that once they realised she’d escaped they would be searching. She resented the helicopter for pushing her on, for reminding her that the authorities were doing everything they could to stop her. The creatures gazed up at her, and she did her best to dismiss the doubting voice. They looked a lot like her boys, sure, but they didn’t behave like Morgan and Riley. Besides, she’d come too far to stop now, to consider fully whether she was, in fact, as mad as the doctors seemed to think. There was little time and absolutely no choice.

  Across the water there were figures on the viaduct, waving their arms. They’d seen her, and the people in the helicopter would soon if they hadn’t already, but for those on the ground it wouldn’t be a simple thing to locate her. She was well hidden, in a small cove that could only be accessed by wading through brambles and stingers, scrambling over uneven ground. She’d twisted an ankle, stubbed her toe, gone on regardless. Her legs were torn to shreds, and she’d lost a shoe. She kicked the other off and it landed toe-down, sticking out of a crack in the mud.

  She still had time, but only if she hurried. Bishop and Selver didn’t seem concerned, only eager. Go, they seemed to say, now. They had led her to this place, working together like divining rods, and all she had to do was complete the last part. Under the water, they would see their mother again, and Morgan and Riley would be returned to her. If she could bear it. If she believed it. And yet, the doubts persisted.

  The search teams were drawing closer. Given time, she knew that the officers on the ground would eventually find her, maybe arrest her. She heard a shout from someone searching, the crackle of police radios not too far away in the woodland on her side of the bank. Meanwhile the helicopter hung overhead, pressing down with relentless noise and thudding blades. They started bellowing at her through a loudspeaker, to wait, to stay where she was. She stepped forward into the water and the helicopter seemed to retreat, circling back and away. She heard her name, then. It was Patrick. From somewhere close by he begged her to wait. He sounded desperate. She stepped back from the water, her legs gave way underneath her and she sat down hard onto a ledge of dried mud. Perhaps she couldn’t do it, perhaps she ought not to, perhaps she was wrong after all.

  In her arms the creatures started to sing, and the doubts receded. Then those doubts were replaced with certainty as a third voice joined in, rich and low. It was her, the woman, from under the water. The time was here. She scanned the water for signs, for the exact place she ought to enter, but the surface of the reservoir was opaque with ripples from the helicopter, a broken mirror.

  There was no time for further hesitation. Lifting the creatures in the perfect shape of her sons, Lauren stood and walked into the water.

  CHAPTER FORTY-ONE

  Harper left her car and sprinted past the roadblock to the top of the great brick arches, the structure of the viaduct spanning the width of the valley. Spotting Thrupp, she pushed through to the front of the helpless collection of officers standing near the railing.

  “There,” he said, pointing across the valley. The reservoir was a kilometre wide, the bridge on which they stood, about halfway across it. Directly opposite them at the furthest point, Lauren Tranter could be seen, ankle deep in the water, looking down. To Harper she looked almost childlike in that moment, her shoulders hunched against the noise from the helicopter hovering above them. Harper shouted above the din, pointing up, “Can’t you get them to pull back? It’s frightening her.”

  Thrupp nodded and spoke into his radio briefly. The craft flew over their heads, back towards the city,
not leaving entirely but holding position in a big circle as if trying to land. They wouldn’t find anywhere near—everything in the valley was either reservoir or densely wooded slopes.

  After the helicopter had retreated, Lauren stepped back from the edge of the water and seemed to collapse to a sitting position.

  “She’s not going in. Thank goodness,” said Thrupp, and breathed out heavily. One of the uniformed officers clapped Harper on the shoulder but she shook the hand away, concentrating on Lauren, who was staring out at the water, still clutching the two bundles. Thrupp handed her a pair of binoculars. Through them she could see the waving arms of the infants, and Lauren’s unreadable face. There was no way of telling what she might do next, and until an officer reached Lauren on the shore, the babies were still in danger. Harper calculated the distance across. She could swim that in six minutes, if she had to. She’d done it in training, but not from this side of the reservoir, where the water had dropped so low that yellow Danger signs, usually flush with the surface, stuck out on the ends of their long poles.

  Thrupp raised his radio to listen to a transmission. “The ground team have got eyes on her,” he said, “but they can’t see a way through. It’s dense brambles all the way up that part of the valley.”

  “Where’s Patrick?” said Harper, trying not to spit the name out.

  “He went round the other way. He’s already over there with the search team.”

  “I’ll go, too.” She started to move towards the car, but Thrupp called her back.

  “Don’t bother, it’s a ten-minute drive, at the very least. Listen, Jo—”

  But Harper cut him off by thrusting the binoculars back at him. She kicked off her shoes and climbed to the top of the railing.

  “Hey, what are you doing?” he said, before he swung round and saw what she’d already seen—Lauren Tranter was no longer sitting on the far shore. She had stood up and was walking towards the water.

  Thrupp held Harper’s upper arm and said, “Don’t even think about it,” but she shoved him out of the way and dived off the high wall, bracing herself because the water was low and she had no idea how deep it might be, or what obstacles she might encounter. The church tower could be plainly seen, but there could have been other buildings under there for all she knew, or unrecovered vehicles that had fallen in, or high levels of silt in which she might become stuck. As she dived she caught sight of a sign sticking out of the water on her right, black lettering on a yellow background: Danger of death: do not jump from the bridge.

  Half-expecting to hit something, she entered the water cleanly and was relieved to encounter only a few streaming weeds which caught on her head and arms. The arc of the dive took her under and up again to the surface, where without losing pace she began a front-crawl sprint towards Lauren.

  Every third stroke she breathed and checked where Lauren was, whether there was anyone on the shore, ready to stop her. Every third stroke, Lauren was further into the water, and alone. The distance between them closed agonisingly slowly.

  More than halfway across the reservoir, she couldn’t hear Thrupp shouting at her anymore because the approaching helicopter had drowned him out. The noise became deafening and she realised it was hovering over her, dipping dangerously low, the pressure from the blades slowing her progress, pushing her under. A rope ladder dropped down in front of her and she swam right past it, but they followed. Glancing towards the shore, she saw that Lauren was waist-deep now.

  “Get on the ladder,” commanded the loudspeaker.

  “No,” she shouted, though there was no way they would hear her. “Get back. Get away. I’m fine.” She gestured with jabbing hands. When they finally got the message and it lifted, she started out again, but her arms were beginning to tire.

  Up ahead, only Lauren’s head was visible. The babies were under.

  “No, Lauren, don’t,” she shouted, but then she couldn’t see her anymore, only ripples where she’d gone down and disappeared, concentric circles gradually growing and fading away.

  Time itself seemed to slow as she made the last few strokes to reach the point where she’d seen Lauren disappear. Taking a deep breath, she dived down and searched with her hands, pulling up clumps of mud and slimy matter that felt like old rotting fabric, disintegrating as she swiped at it. Opening her eyes under the water didn’t help—all she could see was the silt she had dislodged, that had turned the water into clouds of murky brown. No sign of Lauren, or the babies. Soon she started to run out of oxygen; her lungs began to burn and her ears were pulsating painfully. With no choice but to surface for air, she swam up, stuck her head above the water and breathed hard. There on the shore was the dark figure of a uniformed officer.

  “Sarge,” he shouted, “don’t put yourself in danger. You don’t know what’s under there.”

  Harper drew a deep breath and dived again. I know what’s under here, she thought. One woman and two little babies. And they only have a few minutes.

  Her hands met rocks, and soft mud. Her feet became entangled in something, but she shook them free. Beyond the dullness that filled her ears she heard someone, probably the young officer on the shore, shouting her name, but it seemed very far away. Much closer, she heard a musical sound, thin and high, like singing but not quite like any singing she had ever heard before; somewhere between a cello and a whale song. Soft but getting louder, the music entered her and she relaxed into it. It was so beautiful. For a moment she forgot about the pain in her lungs. She wanted to stay there, to listen to that song for a few minutes more. Stars appeared in her vision, and distantly she knew that this was not the sparkling display of ethereal lights that she took it for, that it actually signalled oxygen deprivation and imminent unconsciousness, and even though she knew that, she didn’t mind. What am I here for? she thought, before she remembered with a small jolt. I’m here to save lives, that’s right.

  The urgency she felt before had all but gone. She carried on the search for Lauren and the boys with sweeping, dancing motions. If she found them, then great. But if not, what did it really matter, in the great scheme of things? She floated gently in the dark, enchanted by the sound and the twinkling lights. Just as it all began to dim, as she almost gave herself to the drifting, her hand clasped itself around something bony. A cold, round thing. Then, her fingers found a mouth-sized hole, with the unmistakable feel of the surface of human teeth on the pad of her thumb as she grasped it.

  Suddenly, her other arm was pulled violently upwards, and the skull slipped from her hand. The dimming stars and the beautiful song were replaced with searing pain in her chest and eyes as she was pulled out of the lake by two sopping, fully uniformed officers who dumped her onto her knees, where she began vomiting water onto the dried mud at the side of the reservoir.

  She’d failed. She’d been distracted and forgotten what she was doing when she needed to find Lauren and the boys. They needed her to save them, to get them out, before it was too late. Thrupp’s voice stopped her as she tried to crawl back towards the edge of the water.

  “You stupid bloody idiot,” said Thrupp. “Why do you never listen to me?”

  Harper rested on her side, just for a moment, just to get her breath. The air in her lungs seemed to be made of knives. She tried to answer, but at first she could do nothing but cough. When the spasms in her lungs ceased she croaked out, “How did you get here so quick?”

  “I got a lift,” said Thrupp, gesturing at the helicopter. “You could have done that, too. There was no need for you to swim. That was what I was trying to tell you.”

  “I didn’t find them,” she said. “I need to go back in.”

  “No, you don’t.”

  “But sir, what about the babies?” Harper could barely see, but she squinted up at Thrupp from her curled position on the ground. She pushed herself to her knees. “They’ll drown, if someone doesn’t get them out.”

  “Don’t worry, we got them. Look.”

  Harper looked to where he was pointing.
There on the shore, a little further away, was Lauren Tranter, wrapped in a blanket. She was crying, and hugging two small bundles to her. Patrick was there too, crouching next to his wife. He tried to take one of the bundles from her but she shouted no, turning away from him. Harper couldn’t see what was in the bundles. She couldn’t see their faces, whether they moved or breathed.

  “Did you get to them in time?” said Harper, steeling herself for the answer. But before Thrupp could respond she heard a baby crying and another one joined in. Tears burst from Harper’s eyes and she sank down onto her knees in silent thanks.

  The sun was low, the water reflecting the spread of reds and pinks as it set behind the hill. The helicopter had gone away, leaving a kind of peace broken only by Lauren’s voice in the shadows, over and over,

  “Morgan, Riley, you came back to me, you came back.”

  CHAPTER FORTY-TWO

  The water had never dropped as low as it did that summer, not since the reservoir was built and filled more than a century before. Even the record-breaking drought of 1976 hadn’t drained it quite to that extent, though it was close, according to Amy, who’d checked the Met Office data. When the police returned to search the lake for the body that no one but Harper was convinced was under there, they could still see the tip of the old church sticking up above the surface. It was only the second time it had been seen since the water covered it up in 1896, its weathervane, amazingly, still standing almost straight on a sliver of rusty metal. Of all the buildings that survived in the lake, it was the last thing to disappear, the first thing to be revealed.

  Harper led the search, and it wasn’t long before they pulled the human skull from the water and laid it carefully on black plastic sheeting. She looked at the skull for a long time before she turned and addressed her team of divers in a hushed voice.

  “This is a crime scene, people. Let’s give it everything we can.”