by Paul Clayton
She walked out of the hotel and stood for a moment on the pavement. She had to call at a particular bank and produce her passport. The solicitor, who’d reminded Little Girl of her headmistress at junior school, told her the consulate had taken care of the hotel and she would receive a bill for fees. Unfolding a piece of paper on which she’d written the bank’s address, she stopped a passer-by to ask for directions.
Ten minutes later, she was travelling up the escalator to the glass foyer of a private bank. It wouldn’t be her bank for long. Once she’d signed all the papers and gained access to the money, she’d be setting up her own accounts, running her life and spending her time how she chose. Seven months of hell in Dubai and now she was home. And planning for the arrival of her baby.
Chapter Fifty-Eight
Jonny sat at the table with Frankie and Shannon. ‘He came back one night a couple of months ago. Said you’d sent him to give her a note at the wine bar or something.’ Frankie nodded. ‘It sounds like you were the one playing silly games, Mum.’
‘Cora didn’t want me to have any contact with her. Nobody was to see us together in case they thought she was showing me preferential treatment over the job.’ Frankie realised how ludicrous it all sounded, how clever Cora had been in distancing herself.
‘And we know it all turned out to be a hoax,’ said Jonny. ‘Henry thought something was a bit wrong. After he gave her the envelope, he followed her to find out where she lived. He was pretty sure he saw someone spying on him from one of the top flats. He was convinced it was Cora.’
‘Why didn’t he tell us any of this?’
Shannon couldn’t believe what her brother was saying. ‘Right from the beginning when she brought him back, he liked Cora. And she did save him in Brighton.’
Jonny remained silent.
‘She did, Jonny. Shannon is right.’ Frankie didn’t like the way that Jonny seemed to be shifting the whole story.
‘Yes, she did. Though Henry did say that when she reached him, he found it difficult at first to know whether she was trying to pull him out of the water or push him under.’
‘That’s ridiculous.’ Frankie was fast losing patience. ’Why would she do that? She’d hardly be likely to drown him in front of us.’
Jonny looked his mum straight in the eye. ‘Nobody would have known. She would just have failed to save him. What if she was going to drown him and something made her change her mind?’
The three of them sat, unspeaking, at the kitchen table. Shannon broke the silence. ‘You gotta admit it, Mum. Something’s wrong. All this mystery about the job, and now this.’
‘It wouldn’t do any harm to go up to Parkside Tower and take a look around. See if we can find any trace of her.’ Jonny looked at both of them.
‘It’s ten o’clock at night. Your brother is missing. The police are dealing with it. My nerves are in shreds, and you want the three of us to go snooping around a block of flats up near the park?’
***
Keeping up with Jonny and Shannon caused Frankie to break into a slow trot as they made their way over to the park. ‘This is ridiculous,’ said Frankie. ‘I’m a mother of three acting like one of the Famous Five.’
‘I think it’s gonna be fun,’ Shannon said as she strode ahead with Jonny.
‘Fun?’ Frankie fought for breath. Talking and walking wasn’t a good idea. ‘Your younger brother’s gone missing again. This time he’s been lost by a bloody policeman. God knows what’s happened. I’m on the point of a nervous breakdown and you think it’s fun?’
‘Let’s just keep our heads over this.’ In the time since his revelation of Henry’s previous visit to the block of flats, Jonny seemed to have grown up.
‘We all know he’s been there before when he first met Cora.’ There was a bitter impatience in Frankie’s voice.
She could see her breath making little clouds in front of her as she slogged her way up Overbury Road. They soon reached the junction of Parkside and the high street and stopped to gaze up at Parkside Tower.
‘If we find anything, whatever it is, we’re going down to the police station first thing in the morning. We’re not dealing with this on our own.’ Frankie was adamant. She’d insisted they rang the police before leaving the house. The number she had for PC Ashley had gone straight to voicemail, so she’d rung the police station. ‘Langley Park police station now operates on reduced hours between 7.30am and 9pm. For urgent enquiries outside these hours, please redial and call 999.’
‘I don’t believe it. The police station is on bloody voicemail.’
There were one or two lights on in the hallway of the block in front of them. Up on the top floor, a light glowed behind curtains. They crossed the road and stood at the entrance to the driveway. The glass doors were closed.
Frankie was not happy. Out of breath from the walk, and now no way in. ‘I said this wasn’t a good idea.’
‘Sssh.’ Jonny waved his hand at Shannon and Frankie. They crouched down behind the wall. The front door to the flats opened and a man left the block in the opposite direction. Scuttling across the grass like a member of the Special Forces Boat Squad, Jonny hurled himself at the front door and managed to get a foot inside to stop it closing. He turned round and whistled loudly. Two heads peeped over the wall.
‘This is all getting silly,’ hissed Frankie.
Shannon jumped up and ran across the grass to join her brother in the hallway. Frankie took a deep breath and wobbled after them.
They stood in the centre of the hall. On the wall on the right-hand side were mailboxes with flat numbers and surnames. No box had the name Walsh on it, and two of the boxes had no names at all.
‘We don’t know her name was Walsh. It could be any of these flats.’ Frankie felt this was wrong. Anxious though she was about Henry, she had a sudden chill that it would result in no good.
‘We can only try.’ Grabbing a handful of flyers from the ledge above the mailboxes, Jonny pushed the button on the lift. When the doors opened, he jumped in. He turned to his mum and sister. ‘You coming?’
Chapter Fifty-Nine
‘It’s my baby. I don’t want you in his life.’ Lottie stood in the doorway of the bedsit, tears streaming down her face, trying to make Gary understand why she didn’t want to let him in.
‘Most bloody women would kill for a man who says he’ll stand by them. What the fuck is wrong with ya?’
‘There’s nothing wrong with me.’ Lottie pushed the door again but his foot was firmly in place to stop it closing.
‘I want to spend some time with my son. That’s all I’m asking. That’s not fucking unreasonable, is it?’ Gary leaned against the door frame.
This is what happens when they want their way, thought Lottie. They get into your space. They get too close. It’s always the same, Craig was the same. And when they’ve got near enough, they hit you.
‘Just give me some space – a week or two. Let me get myself sorted. Two kids and a baby isn’t easy, and I got benefits to sort and all that. When I’m fixed, I’ll let you know.’
He reached into his pocket, pulled out a handful of notes, and thrust them at her. ‘I don’t want him wishing for anything. Take this. And there’s more.’
Lottie wanted to snatch the money out of his hand and shut the door, but then he’d be buying his way into her baby’s life. Since moving to the town, she’d kept her circle of friends small: Andrea, Daisy and some of the girls at the refuge, Derek the landlord at the Lamb and Flag and, until making the fateful mistake of sleeping with him, Gary Hackett. To be honest, she’d enjoyed the sex, enjoyed one night of merry freedom.
She’d never felt at any moment that the baby was a mistake. How could the gift of a child be wrong? Her trouble was that she didn’t want to share him. He was her child, part of her tribe. She was the protector. Two children growing and happy and looked after, despite al
l that the world had thrown at them – and now a third. Another chance to prove that here was something she could do well. She was a good mother.
She didn’t tell Andrea about her plans to move, but she did visit the refuge and talk to Daisy. ‘I just don’t want him in their lives. I don’t want to have to deal with a man.’
Daisy held up her hand as if trying to pull the stress out of her. ‘He has rights. Given your past experience, I understand why you’d choose to run away. He may let you or he may decide to follow you. If he went to court, it’s highly likely they would give him access.’
‘He’s gonna have to find me first.’
Daisy could see how determined she was. ‘Have you thought where you’d go?’
Lottie smiled. ‘It’s not fair if I tell you. I need to lose myself again, me and the three of them.’
‘I get it. I’m not suggesting you’re right, but I do get it.’
Lottie saw Daisy’s wonderful smile, a smile which shone light into her heart. ‘Thing is, will you help me?’
Chapter Sixty
The lift jerked to a halt, the doors slid open and Frankie, Jonny and Shannon stepped out into the eighth-floor corridor. Frankie wasn’t sure what she’d expected but she was disappointed to see plain magnolia walls and four dark wooden doors, two on each side of the lift.
‘Eight-zero-two didn’t have any name on the mailbox,’ said Jonny. He strode across the corridor and pressed the bell.
‘What are you doing?’ Frankie grabbed Shannon, alarmed at Jonny’s hare-brained action. He signalled with his hand for them to step back into the recess at the top of the staircase next to the lift and hide from view.
There was the rattle of a door chain being removed and the door of 802 swung wide open. ‘Yes?’ A tall grey-haired man with an outlandish moustache stood at the door in shirtsleeves and braces. ‘Yes?’
The fact that the flat was occupied told Jonny it wasn’t the one they were looking for, unless Cora was living with Colonel Mustard from Cluedo. ‘Our pizza. Great offers on production of this leaflet,’ he said, thrusting out the flyer.
‘How did you get in here?’ the man barked, as though he were addressing a parade ground. ‘Did you ring a bell, or did someone let you in? We don’t have hawkers and pedlars in the block, you know.’
Jonny didn’t know what a hawker or pedlar was, but he was pretty sure he was neither. ‘Sorry. Didn’t know whether to leave them in the hall or push them through the letterbox, but someone let me in downstairs as they were leaving. Sorry to trouble you. Won’t do it again.’
‘I should hope not. Good night.’ And the door slammed closed to Jonny’s relief.
He walked along to the top of the landing to find Frankie and Shannon pressed against the wall. ‘It’s not 802.’
‘This is ridiculous,’ said Frankie. ‘What are you hoping to find?’
‘Jonny’s good at this, Mum, and he’s right. The other flat that didn’t have a name on it was 804. Want me to try, Jonny?’
Jonny handed the pizza flyers to his sister and stepped back, dragging his mother out of sight. Shannon walked down the corridor to the door of 804. She was about to raise her hand and ring the bell when the lights went out. ‘What’s happened?’ she hissed.
‘Don’t panic.’ Jonny fumbled over to the lift doors and pressed a white button set into the wall by the control panel. The lights turned on. ‘They’re on a timer. I guess it gives us a couple of minutes every time you push it.’
‘That’s something we should have at home with you lot. Might save some money,’ Frankie said.
Shannon rolled her eyes, making sure her mother saw, and turned to the door. Jonny pushed himself back against the landing wall as she pressed the bell for 804. She held her breath and listened. The door remained unopened. After a while, she pressed the bell again. All she could hear was her mother’s breathing further down the hall.
‘I don’t think there’s anybody in.’ Jonny stepped away from the wall and joined his sister. ‘I think we ought to go in and take a look around.’
Frankie worked her way back up the corridor to the door of 804. Jonny had what looked like a miniature metal nail file in his hand and was pushing it into the lock. ‘What the fuck are you doing?’ She reached up to pull his hand away from the door. ‘Stop that now.’
‘If you don’t want to know, then look away.’ Jonny pulled his arm out of his mother’s grasp and resumed poking at the lock.
‘I’ve done my best to bring you three up. Where on earth you learnt all this from, Jonny Baxter, I don’t know. I am not pleased.’
Jonny continued to work the slim metal file into the lock.
Frankie tried again. ‘You do realise this is now breaking and entering, don’t you? It’s ceased to be “having a look” and it’s now criminal behaviour.’
Jonny felt the file slip into the lock. Pulling the sleeves of his sweatshirt down over his hands to make sure that he didn’t leave any marks, he pushed down on the door handle and opened the door. ‘Step inside and don’t touch anything.’
‘I’m not coming in. It’s criminal.’ Frankie folded her arms to make her point.
‘Fine, then stay out here in the corridor and make people suspicious. I’m doing this to see if we can find something that explains why my brother has disappeared. My brother. I’d do the same if you or Shannon went missing. If you don’t want any part of it, why not piss off downstairs and wait outside?’
Jonny had never used so many words in one go before. He must be angry, thought Frankie. She lowered her head a little to avoid his eyes and stepped into the flat.
They found themselves in a narrow hallway. Jonny tried the light switch but nothing happened. To the left of the front door was a bathroom devoid of any signs of life. Ahead of them was a sizeable room with a kitchen recess at one end. Even up here on the eighth floor, the orange glow of the street lights crept through the windows, silhouetting the furniture against pale walls. An enormous picture window at the other end of the room overlooked the park. To the left was an archway leading into an open-plan sleeping area with a substantial double bed stripped bare. All the furniture seemed basic. There was a small sofa, a coffee table and a dining table by the window with one single chair, but no sign of life.
There was no air of fustiness; someone had lived in this place until not long ago. Frankie could smell a hint of furniture polish in the air. No cushions on the sofa, no television, and empty cupboards in the kitchen. Whoever had been living here had gone.
Suddenly there was a loud bang. Shannon let out a small scream and grabbed her mother. ‘Oh God, what’s that?’
‘Front door which Mum didn’t shut,’ said Jonny, heading back into the hall.
‘Mum!’ Shannon moved over to look out of the window.
‘Be careful, Shannon. You don’t want anybody seeing you.’ It terrified Frankie that they might be discovered. She didn’t want another visit to the police station for breaking and entering.
Shannon took a step back. ‘You can see most of the park from here. In daytime you could see everything. Do you remember how Cora turned up sometimes when we were in the park? Remember how she got upset when we were making that film with Luke?’
Jonny walked into the kitchen and, covering his hands once more, pulled open the remaining kitchen units to find the cupboards bare. ‘There’s nothing here.’ His disappointment rang out clearly as he spoke. ‘It could have been a hideaway but, if it was, she’s gone.’
Shannon stepped back from the window and bumped into the table. Turning round, she saw something flutter to the floor. Apparently it had fallen from between the table and the wall. She picked it up.
‘What’s that?’ asked Frankie.
‘It’s a postcard.’
Frankie and Jonny crowded round her. There was nothing written on it. Shannon turned the card over so they could se
e the picture. Two white cottages with green window frames and doors basking in the sunshine; rising between them, a tall white lighthouse.
Chapter Sixty-One
Little Girl rapidly realised that having other people to do business for you made life much simpler. Money bought people and people gave you time. She stayed away from the individuals whom Mr Howe had recommended. She wanted no connection with her past and its memories. Money allowed you to disappear. Money could buy you an unfamiliar name and, with it, anonymity.
She found a small flat on the south bank of the river in a recent development which she loved for its lack of neighbourliness. She took delight in fashioning it into a home, the first place where she’d felt relaxed since sharing a room with Lottie. Most evenings she sat on the balcony watching the river slip by. Her love for the city grew as the baby in her belly grew.
The arrival of a child changed her life, but even she wasn’t quite ready for the overwhelming torrent of love it unleashed in her. The child was her world now. This was what she was born to do, to raise this child, to give it the opportunities she had lacked, and the love she had craved. She would ensure that her child always felt needed and loved and wanted for nothing. She would protect it, nurture it, fight for it, if necessary.
In her life, she had failed in many things. She’d failed in childhood through no fault of her own; in the house with Mother and Father, she had been invisible and lost her ability to love.
There had been a glimmer of hope in her friendship with Lottie. Hours spent talking, sharing deepest secrets, sharing their lives, their likes, rejoicing in their misbehaviour. When Lottie left with scarcely a word to set up home with Craig and have his child, it hurt more than when Little Girl’s parents had died. She told herself she wasn’t to blame when people hurt her. But was it her fault if they hurt her a second time?
Little Girl determined no one would ever harm her child. She sold the flat for a lot of money, not that she needed it. Wise investment of the money left to her by the Skuras gave her an income to live off and capital in the bank. She bought a tiny house further out of the city in a quiet tree-lined road of obscurity. The local school was excellent, and she settled into the humdrum life of a suburban existence.