Silent Child

by Sarah A. Denzil

  Jake was, is, and has always been a complicated man. That evening when he came home from the police station and wanted me more than ever… well, it made me realise that I was also a complicated woman, because I wanted him too.

  25

  The next day—Wednesday—I learned that women have to pay a price if they allow themselves to be shrill. I was a YouTube phenomenon. The clip of me screaming at the reporters went viral, and the comments were toxic.

  Women can never be shrill. It does something to a man. It hits them square in the testicles and shrivels them right up. I’ve seen Jake physically wince if my voice rises a few notes. I’ve seen the reaction of internet users to popular TV shows where the man is a murdering anti-hero with a wife who, on occasion, dares to yell at him. Guess who they hate.

  The time of societal pity towards my tragic circumstance was over. The media had taken their gloves off.

  Headlines took a punch at my mental health: Back-From-Dead Mother in Banshee Screech, Aiden’s Mum Loses It, She’s Lost her Marbles!, Is This the Face of a Good Mother? They dug out every unflattering photo they could find on social media and plastered them between poorly written paragraphs in online news articles. In nearly every single one I was holding an alcoholic drink. They even found a picture of me drunk off my face in the background of someone else’s photo. My bleary eyes weren’t even looking at the camera. It had been taken not long after my parents had died and I was ill, but of course no one cared about that.

  It was clear that the reporters thought Jake was the kidnapper and they’d found a new angle: I was an accomplice. For some reason it made sense to them that I would have my ‘lover’ kidnap my own son and imprison him for a decade, only to release him and claim him back.

  The house phone did not stop ringing that morning until I unplugged it. The only call I answered on my mobile phone was one from Josie.

  “I’m so sorry,” she said. It was the third time she’d said it. “You haven’t done anything wrong, you know. Those fuckers deserved to be yelled at. Why shouldn’t you scream at them?”

  “It’s okay. I don’t care about what they think anymore. There’s nothing they can do or say that will change my mind.”

  “Just stay safe, all right? Do you want me to bring food around to the house? Stay at home so they leave you alone.”

  “I’m okay, Jo. Honestly. We have tons of food in. We’re staying holed up with Denise and Marcus.”

  “Who are they?”

  I rolled my eyes. “Our family liaison officers.”

  Josie knew me so well that I could tell she knew I’d just rolled my eyes. “Aha. Annoying busybodies, are they?”

  I glanced over my shoulder. “I’m pretty sure they’re only hanging around to see if I know anything. I think Denise suspects Jake.”

  There was a pause.

  “You can ask me if you want,” I said.

  “Okay. But I’m only asking because I’m worried about you.”

  “I don’t suspect him. I really don’t. I honestly don’t think he would even have the time. I know women say ‘but I knew him’ all the time, and I feel like that too, but practically, he just wouldn’t be able to do it.”

  She let out a long sigh. “I get it. I think you’re right, too. Jake isn’t… like that. I’m sure of it.”

  “Have you heard from Hugh?”

  Josie paused. Then I heard the sound of a sob.

  “Jo? Jo, what’s happened?”

  Her voice came out strangled. She was crying—sobbing, in fact. “I didn’t want to tell you because of everything you’re going through, but I think Hugh’s left me.”

  “What? Oh my God, Jo! When did this happen?”

  “I tried to get hold of him to tell him about Aiden, but I couldn’t. He was supposed to be working with his brother in London for at least four weeks, which is normal for him. He used to come back and see me once a week but that fizzled out long ago. Nowadays he doesn’t even call and he’s a nightmare to get hold of. So I called his brother and Steven told me that Hugh hadn’t even been at the office for a week.”

  “What?”

  “Hugh told Steven he was coming home for a few days so Steven figured he was spending some time with me.”

  “What do you think has happened, Jo?”

  “He’s having an affair, I know it. I’ve known it for a long time. A friend of mine saw him with a woman in London. Bitch had blonde hair, apparently. Anyway, I checked our joint account and there’s hardly any money in it at all. I think about ten grand is gone.”

  “Fuck.”

  “I know,” she said. I heard her sniff and then take a deep breath. “I’ve got enough money in my personal account. I’ve been savvy, Emma, don’t worry. I would never let myself end up destitute. I can afford the mortgage, though I’d probably sell this fucking house. I never liked it.”

  I knew that was a lie, but I didn’t point it out.

  “I wish I could come over and see you. There are so many reporters around the house—”

  “Don’t be ridiculous, Em. It’s fine. You stay with Aiden. Jesus, you’ve got enough to be going on with without getting involved in this shit with me and Hugh. Listen, he’s a waste of space, it isn’t even worth discussing. I hope he never does come home. He probably will, though. Steven will kill him if he fucks up the family business by clearing off with some tarty blonde.”

  “Jo. Christ. I don’t know what to say.”

  “There’s nothing to say.”

  “I know. Will you do me one huge favour?”

  “Course, Em, anything.”

  “No matter how shitty you feel, get up, get showered, and go to work. Don’t let that arsehole bring you down. God, I was such a mess after my parents died. Don’t end up like me.”

  “Emma, I’m so sorry about back then. If I’d known you were struggling so much—”

  “Hey, it’s not your fault.”

  “I was working too hard. I got too involved in work and I forgot about my friends.”

  “You’re doing it again,” I said with a smile. “You’re telling yourself off. You always do that. Stop blaming yourself for other people fucking up.”

  She laughed. “You’re right. He’s the arsehole. I’m awesome.”

  “Better.”

  *

  It wasn’t like the first time we holed up, where we played games and watched DVDs. This time there was an uncomfortable atmosphere throughout the house. Denise flapped around making tea and sandwiches. She was much more present than she had been near the beginning of the investigation. Marcus came and went, constantly going for meetings at the police station. When he was here he had private conversations with Denise. Jake stayed off work for a day, but then went back to school on Thursday morning. While he was at home he was like a bear with a thorn in its paw. He kept opening cupboards and then closing them. I often caught him staring at Aiden with narrowed eyes. More than once he suggested that Aiden should go to Rob’s parents’ B&B for the week, but when Jake’s lawyer heard of that plan, he told us not to do it. Apparently if we did that it would raise suspicion.

  But Rob did come to visit, which frankly was a huge help. He sat and drew with Aiden, not even balking at the strange jangle of black spirals that Aiden liked to scrawl. He brought DVDs we’d watched as teens. Nothing too violent or scary. Things like The Breakfast Club and Home Alone. He brought pizza and told stupid jokes. Why do bananas have to put on sunscreen before they go to the beach? Because they might peel!

  “You look better,” he said. It was Thursday afternoon, a mere few days since the ‘shrill’ video had gone viral. “You’ve got more colour about you. I reckon you need to get out of this house though.”

  “I’m taking Aiden for another therapy session tomorrow.”

  “Good,” he said with a nod. “Just be careful, okay? Did you think about what I said? About Jake?”

  I nodded. “It’s not him, Rob. I’d know.”

  He took my hands and smiled. “All right. I won�
��t mention it again. But if there’s anything you need, and I mean anything, you call me. I’m talking ‘Wispa bar in the middle of the night’ shit. Remember when you were pregnant with Aiden and you sent me out for a jar of Nutella at 3am?”

  “Oh yes, I remember that,” I said. “I didn’t even spread it on toast, I got a spoon.”

  “That spread did not stand a chance.”

  It had been a while since I’d laughed. I’d barely cracked a smile for days. We stood in the kitchen watching Aiden through the hallway sat on the sofa. The television was on but I got the feeling he wasn’t watching it at all, and that made goose bumps appear along my arms.

  “Do you think he’ll ever speak?” Rob asked.

  “He will when he wants to tell us his story,” I said. It was what I always said when I answered that question. “But I want to hear his voice. I want to know what he sounds like. He won’t be like the little boy who disappeared all those years ago. I know that. He’ll have a deeper voice, like a man’s, I suppose. Right now he’s more like a shell than a person.”

  “Aiden is in there. I’m sure of it.” Rob set down his mug to hook an arm around my waist. It felt natural. I was being comforted by the father of my child and it felt right. “It’s just going to take some time.”

  “I’m so sick of time.” I shook my head. “Time is what I’ve been robbed of already. Time with my son. Buying him football boots when he grows out of his old ones. Arguing with him about tidying his room. Watching him awkwardly try to flirt with girls.”

  Rob laughed through his nose. “You’ll still get to see him try to flirt with girls.”

  “Will I? Rob, is he ever going to be normal? I know it’s early days, but can you ever imagine him at school or at university? I can’t imagine him interacting with anyone at the moment.” Though the words felt good to let out, they left a sour taste in my mouth because deep down I knew them to be true. Aiden was damaged. He would never be like the other kids.

  Rob’s arm tightened around my waist. He leaned into me and rested his head against mine. “We’ll figure it out, Em.”

  And as we were stood there in the door of Jake’s kitchen, linked arm in arm, I genuinely believed it would be me and Rob who figured out the best path for Aiden. We were his parents and we would know what was best for him. At that moment I didn’t even think about Jake, though later I would look back and feel shame for not doing so.

  The spell was broken when the door opened and Denise stepped in. “It’s chilly out there. The autumn is really setting in now. How’s Aiden doing?”

  We’d stepped away from each other as Denise had walked in. It was a move we’d made countless times when we were young teens in love—every time my mum popped into my bedroom to deliver laundry. Well, we were like silly teenagers again.

  “He’s fine,” I replied. “Any news from DCI Stevenson?” I idly let one hand stroke my belly.

  “You’d better give him a call and speak to him yourself,” Denise said.

  26

  “Try again,” Rob insisted.

  “I’ve called three times,” I replied.

  “He’s bound to be in important meetings,” Denise chipped in.

  “Can’t you just tell us?” I demanded.

  Denise only shook her head. “It’s best it comes from him. Try again in a while. Shall I—”

  “—pop the kettle on?” I mimicked. “No, I’ve had quite enough bloody tea, thank you.”

  Rob smirked. I rubbed my hands and tried not to think of my high blood pressure. I picked up my mobile phone from the kitchen table and clicked through to my recent calls for DCI Stevenson’s number.

  When he answered, I almost dropped the phone from shock. It was my fifth attempt and I’d already come to the conclusion that he wouldn’t answer.

  “Emma, now isn’t a good time.”

  “Denise says there’s been a development,” I said. “What’s happened?”

  “We’ve made an arrest that may or may not be relevant to the investigation. Now, Emma, this is confidential, and it’s important that you don’t look too much into it at this stage. We don’t know if it’s relevant to the case or not, okay?”

  “Stop patronising me and tell me,” I snapped.

  “You’re right, I’m sorry. We have arrested James Graham-Lennox for possession of child pornography.”

  “What?”

  “An IT consultant found images on his personal computer and informed the police.”

  “The Duke of Hardwick?”

  “Yes.”

  “Shit.” Then a disgusting thought popped into my mind. “Is… Is Aiden on—”

  “We’ve not found any pictures of Aiden on his computer.”

  I let out a long, deep sigh.

  “This is very sensitive information. Do not repeat it to anyone outside the family. Is that clear? We need to tread carefully.”

  “Of course. Shit. He’d have the money to do it. He’d have the opportunity. Oh God.”

  “Emma, I need you to stay focussed. There’s no evidence linking the duke to Aiden. Not yet anyway.”

  When I hung up the phone, I could tell by Rob’s expression that I’d paled to a deathly white.

  “What is it?” he asked. “They’ve made an arrest?”

  I could feel Denise hovering over us. I wanted to talk to Rob but I hated her listening in on every conversation. I didn’t trust her. She was police, not family. Her loyalties were with the police and that was a barrier I could not climb.

  “Denise, would you mind checking on Aiden?” I asked.

  “Is everything okay?” she replied with a bright smile.

  “Sure.”

  She hesitated for half a heartbeat before making her way out of the kitchen and through to the living room. But she did it.

  “They’ve arrested someone with child pornography on their computer. But there were no pictures of Aiden.”

  Rob gripped the kitchen table so hard that I could see his knuckles whitening. “And it was that duke, was it? The one who lives up in the big house lording it over us? Was it him, Emma?”

  “Yes,” I confirmed.

  His eyes widened and his jaw dropped and I knew his mind was racing through exactly the same thoughts that had raced through mine when DCI Stevenson had told me. He staggered away from the table and raked his hands through his hair.

  “Fuck.”

  “There’s no connection to Aiden yet.”

  “He’s a paedo living in the area. What else do they need?”

  “They need a lot more than that, Rob. They need to find where he was kept. They need proof.”

  “It’s him,” Rob said. “I know it. It’s him.”

  “Emma!”

  Denise’s urgent call sent a jolt up my spine. I clutched hold of my bump as I rushed through the hallway into the living room. Aiden stood on one side of the room with Denise on the other. He had a pair of scissors in his hand and was holding them up high in a gesture that could be perceived as threatening. Behind him, the curtains had been chopped to pieces.

  “I’m so sorry, I was setting up a DVD for him on the television. I didn’t see what he was doing and then when I did, I tried to get him to stop,” Denise said. “But he kept ignoring me.”

  “Aiden, honey, put down the scissors.” It was only now that I realised how much he had grown since he had been living with us. He was still shorter than the average sixteen-year-old boy, but he had filled out. His pigeon chest wasn’t as prominent. His shoulders appeared broader. He cut a far more intimidating figure than he had a week ago.

  “Mate, it’s all right. You’re not in any trouble. Just put the scissors down, okay pal?” Rob coaxed.

  But Aiden ignored us. He turned around and resumed his haphazard chopping of the curtains, letting the world see into our home.

  *

  The media were spoiled for stories. I’m not sure they knew quite what to report on first. There was the arrest of the Duke of Hardwick and the warrant to search Wetherin
gton House. There were pictures of Aiden cutting our curtains to shreds with Rob and myself standing like idiots behind him, clearly afraid. There was the aftermath of ‘screech-gate’ going on, with the YouTube clip still trending on Facebook. And in the midst of this toxic melting pot, I managed to get Aiden to the therapist, along with Marcus providing a police escort.

  “What do you think brought on this new development?” Dr Foster asked. “Aiden hasn’t shown any other signs of disruptive behaviour. What has changed?”

  “Perhaps he heard me telling Rob about the arrest. That could have triggered something. Or maybe it was all the reporters waiting outside the house. I tried asking him but...” I shrugged.

  Today, Aiden scrawled red and black against a grey background. Then he drew what appeared to be solid steel bars in front of a dark background.

  “This could be his cage,” I said, showing Dr Foster.

  “It’s a shame there isn’t more detail for the police.”

  I agreed. Aiden’s pictures never had an awful lot of detail. When we asked him to draw more, he clammed up and pushed the pens aside.

  “What about at night?” Dr Foster asked. “Any changes?”

  “The same. I’ll check on him at nine and he seems to be sleeping. When I go into his room at around 7 or 8am, he’s usually awake but still in bed. Then he’ll have a shower, though the bathroom door stays open. After his shower we eat breakfast. Then he’ll often sit and watch television. He’ll watch whatever’s on and remains impassive to it all. I’ve stopped trying to fill his days with children’s TV. He sits and watches daytime TV just as easily though.”

  “The routine to his day is interesting. When inmates are released from prison they often live in the same routine that was forced upon them in prison. That means wherever Aiden was, he had a routine. He woke at a certain time, ate at a certain time and went to bed at a certain time.”