I grinned to myself. I liked black coffee now. In the old days I’d only drunk it because I thought it was more chic than white.
I decided to go out into the garden for a while and sit in the sun. When I went to get Grace out of her cot she was fast asleep and I decided not to risk waking her by shifting her to the garden. Instead I opened the study window, so that I’d hear her if she cried. I’d only be a few feet away. I locked the front door and took a rug and my coffee and The Mill on the Floss into the garden. I stretched out under the shade of a big elder-tree. I closed my eyes. The stream was making a gentle sound just on the edge of hearing. Minutes later, the coffee undrunk, I was asleep.
I woke up feeling that something had disturbed me. The sun was hot on my face and glowed red-orange on the inside of my eyelids. I yawned and opened my eyes. The sun had moved round while I’d been asleep. I looked at my watch. My God! Half past twelve. I sat up abruptly. I’d been asleep for three hours – no, nearly four. And Grace hadn’t woken up. Or had she? Was it her crying that had woken me up? I listened intently. The house and garden lay silent under the midday sun. All the fears I’d had when Grace was a premature baby came rushing back. She never slept this long during the day. What if she wasn’t asleep – what if— Oh God, how could I have let myself sleep so long? I ran into the house. It was cool indoors. I rushed down the stairs to my study, my heart heating fast. The cot was over by the window. I could see that Grace was hugging Woolly Bear to her chest with one hand. With the other she was pulling her foot up to her face. She was cooing to herself. I felt a flood of relief. I bent down into the cot to pick her up. She looked up and smiled at me. I froze in mid movement. For a few moments I didn’t believe what I was seeing. I thought I might be hallucinating. I blinked and looked again. Nothing had changed.
It still wasn’t Grace in the cot. It was Agnes.
My own baby had gone.
Chapter Sixteen
‘OH. Oh. Oh.’ It seemed to be someone else who was gasping in shock. I looked round inside the cot as though I could have somehow overlooked Grace. I felt giddy. I groped for the swivel chair by my desk and collapsed on to it. I was trembling and my mouth was dry. How could this have happened? Might it be – was it possible – was she somewhere else in the house? Had I put her somewhere and forgotten about it? Had Kevin left Agnes here earlier?
My heart in my throat, I ran up to my bedroom, knocking over a pile of books on the study floor and nearly taking a tumble down the stairs. The duvet lay on the bed in a series of hummocks. I hadn’t straightened it that morning. I searched the bed pulling the duvet this way and that. She wasn’t there. For a crazy moment I wondered if I’d left her in the car. Could I really have left her shut in there on a warm day like this? I looked out of the window. The car lay inertly in the sun outside the front-garden gate. It was empty. No baby strapped in the car seat.
I couldn’t delay the full realization any longer. Someone had taken her.
I wanted to run round the house screaming. But I walked back down to the study, forcing myself to slow down and think. Agnes was mumbling to herself in the cot. I looked down on her scarcely seeing her. I shouted, ‘Grace! Grace!’ as if she might be somewhere nearby and could hear me and reply. Agnes was startled. She began whimpering. She tried to pull herself up into a sitting position. I couldn’t bring myself to touch her. What was she doing here in the place of my own baby? Someone had come into the house while I was asleep in the garden and had taken Grace, substituting Agnes for her. But if Agnes was here, then…?
I went to the phone and stabbed in Kevin’s number with a quivering finger. Almost immediately the phone was picked up at the other end. A familiar voice said hello. It was Melissa. My hand flew to my throat. The voice continued: ‘We can’t come to the phone at the moment.’ It was a recording. Kevin had left the answering-machine on and he hadn’t changed the message. Perhaps he was there, all the same. I waited in an ecstasy of impatience for him to pick up the phone, but the message played itself out.
I slammed the receiver down and ran upstairs to the study. Agnes was crying, but it was a far-off sound that didn’t have much to do with me. I scrambled up to my bedroom. I seized the binoculars and directed them towards Journey’s End. I saw the boot of Kevin’s red hire-car sticking out round the side of the house. He was at home. I grabbed my car-keys from the bedside table and ran to the study. The moment Agnes saw me, she whimpered. She lifted her arms imploringly. I paused. Could I leave her here? No, she’d have to come with me. When I lifted Agnes up, she sensed my anxiety and impatience and began to howl. I felt a flash of anger, of hatred, even.
‘Stop it, stop it,’ I muttered through clenched teeth.
I just wanted to get rid of her and get my own baby back. Everything seemed to take an age. I fumbled with the clasp on the baby-seat. I stalled the car. And all the time Agnes was screaming with hunger and fear. Then I was off down the rutted track, driving as fast as I dared. The light was red at the level-crossing. Unable to sit still, I got out of the car, and stood by the gate to the track biting the skin around my fingernails. The train was coming from Ely. It advanced across the flat plain with infuriating slowness. After it had passed there was a delay before the light went green, then I was pumping the barriers up, running back to the car, driving through. I didn’t wait to pump the barrier back down.
At Journey’s End I pulled up sharply in a spray of gravel and leaped out to lean on the doorbell. Nothing happened. No one came. I put my ear to the door. Silence. I rang again and I rattled the doorhandle. The door was open. I ran through the dim sitting-room and up the stairs. I pushed open the door to Agnes’s room. The curtains had been pulled back. Sunlight was flooding in the room. There in the cot was Grace. She was awake and sitting up. She had Agnes’s felt snake in her hands and was sucking one of the baubles attached to it. When she saw me, her eyes opened wide and she chortled. I snatched her up. Standing there with my arms wrapped round her I felt that I would never let her out of my sight again for a single moment. But was she really all right? I held her out from my body to examine her. She grinned and wriggled, urging me to joggle her up and down. She was fine, absolutely fine, as perfect and lovely as ever.
As I stood there drinking her in, I heard the door behind me click shut. I turned round. Kevin was leaning against it.
* * *
He was wearing his usual uniform of jeans and a white T-shirt. His feet were bare. As I stared at him he drew one foot up and rested the sole of it against the door. His arms were folded across his chest in a way that made the muscles bulge. His lower face was dark with stubble.
‘What are you doing, Cassandra?’ His voice was cool.
I pulled Grace back to my chest. She protested and struggled, but I held her close. ‘How did my baby get here?’ I said, trying to keep the tremor out of my voice.
‘I’m sorry?’
‘How did Grace get here?’
‘Grace? But that’s Agnes you’ve got there.’
I stared at him, unable to speak. He smiled.
Grace put her hand up to my face. Without taking my eyes off Kevin, I pressed her fingers to my face and kissed them.
‘They do look very similar, don’t they?’ Kevin said gently. ‘And you’ve been under a lot of pressure, haven’t you?’
He continued: ‘Come on now, who’d do something like that? You really think someone came to your house while you were asleep? That someone took your baby away and left another one in her place? Who would that have been? The fairies, perhaps? Bit of a mad idea, isn’t it?’ He unfolded his arms and let his hands drop by his sides. ‘Who’s going to believe you, do you think? Post-natal psychosis, that’s what they call it, isn’t it, when a woman with a baby goes off her head?’
The ground seemed to fall away beneath my feet. Was it possible, could he be right? Was this really Agnes? Was I going mad?
Grace made a little noise of complaint and gripped my T-shirt. I was back on solid ground. Of course this was my own child. It was
n’t something there could be any doubt about. She was part of me. The connection between us was like a gravitational pull.
‘I don’t know why you’re doing this,’ I said. ‘But I’m taking Grace home now.’
He went on as if I hadn’t spoken. ‘You’re overtired, getting a bit muddled up. Giving birth can do funny things to a woman. I mean, look at Melissa.’ He shook his head. ‘I mean, who would have thought it? Running away from a perfectly good home and husband. That is: if she did run away? What do you think, Cassandra?’ He was still smiling but he was clenching and unclenching his right hand, stretching the fingers out in a rhythmic flicking movement then squeezing them into the palm of his hand. The knuckles were white.
‘I don’t know what’s happened to her! I wish I did.’
‘No idea?’ he asked. ‘None at all?’
I shook my head.
‘Mmm. Do I believe you? I’m not sure. You know, Cassandra, until last night I thought you were a decent woman. I should have known better: there aren’t any decent women, are there? It’s a contradiction in terms. No sooner is Stephen out of the way than another man is sniffing around. You’re like a bitch on heat.’
He was looking into my face, but he didn’t really seem to be seeing me. He was still clenching and unclenching his hand.
‘Does anyone know you’re here, Cassandra?’ he asked.
For half a beat there was silence.
‘I rang Stephen before I came out,’ I said.
‘Oh, no, I don’t think you did. I think you came hot-footing it straight over here. Just as I intended. I want you to tell me what you think has happened to Melissa. Is she alive?’ He paused for effect. ‘Or is she dead?’
I shook my head, too frightened to speak.
‘Perhaps this will concentrate your mind.’
He stepped forward and grabbed Grace under her arms. I hung on to her, but he pulled her towards him. Grace let out a protesting bleat. Kevin tried to wrench her away from me. I hung on to her. We were pulling her in different directions and she started to scream. I had to let go.
Kevin stood back and held her away from him. She looked at me, uncertain whether or not this was a game. I reached out for her. Kevin hefted her above his head.
‘Is Melissa alive, do you think?’ Grace giggled. He lowered her. ‘Or is she dead?’ He lifted her again, this time making a whooshing noise. ‘Alive?’ She giggled even more. He brought her back down. ‘Or dead?’
I put my hand on his arm. ‘Kevin, please.’
‘Not until you tell me about Melissa. You do know, don’t you?’
‘No, no, I don’t! I swear I don’t. Please, my baby.’
I heard the pleading in my voice and I hated him. If I’d had a gun to put to his temples or a knife to slip between his ribs, he would have been a dead man. I’d even have twisted the knife as it went in.
‘Can’t you at least hazard a guess?’ He lifted Grace up again. This time he let go of her for a split second. He caught her as she came down but she was jolted. She wasn’t used to being treated so roughly. She hiccuped and screwed her face up. She began to cry. Kevin smiled and lifted her on to his shoulder, patting her back. His eyes were on my face.
‘There, there, Daddy’s got you now.’ Her eyes goggled, she leaned forward, there was a gurgling noise, and she vomited down his back.
‘Oh, Christ, you foul little brat.’ He thrust her away, his face contorted with disgust. I snatched her from him. He pulled his T-shirt up over his head. In the second that his eyes were covered I saw my chance. I stuck my leg between both of his and brought my knee up as hard as I could. He gave a high-pitched scream and collapsed on to his side on the floor. He brought his knees up and his hands went down to his balls. The T-shirt was still attached to his head like a burnous. I ran down the stairs. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw something gleaming on the chest by the door: Kevin’s car-keys. I grabbed them and ran outside. I wrenched open the back seat of my car and flung Kevin’s keys in. I was astonished to see Agnes was still in the car seat. I’d completely forgotten about her. What the hell was I going to do? I fought down an urge to unbuckle Agnes and fling her on the grass verge. There wasn’t time and anyway I couldn’t leave her with this madman. I clambered into the front seat with Grace and pressed down the button for the central locking. I pulled the seat belt over both of us, and started the car. I crunched the gears into reverse and swung the car back into the turning-space.
Kevin appeared at the door of the house. I caught a glimpse of his bare chest, densely covered in dark hair. One hand was nursing his crotch and in the other he was holding a shoe. Adrenaline surged through my body. I swung the wheel back round. The wheels skidded in the gravel, throwing up stones that pinged on the side of the car. Kevin was coming towards me. But the gravel was slowing him down. He was staggering, hopping, trying to put on the shoe. Then he was alongside me, grabbing at the door. I put my foot down. The car shot forward, pressing me to the back of my seat. I veered out of the gateway, clipping my front right bumper. The car swerved and bumped down the track. I put an arm round Grace and steered with one hand. Grace was trying to pull herself up my chest. Her hands were over my mouth and I had to lift my chin to see over her head.
The light at the level-crossing was green and the gates were still open. The car clicked over the rails. As I cleared the other side, I glanced in the mirror. The track was visible right back to the gate of the house, but Kevin was nowhere to be seen. All the same I didn’t risk stopping until I was back on the metalled road. By then I was shaking so much that I had to pull over to the kerb. I looked into the back seat. Agnes was waving her hands about and smiling. She’d been enjoying the ride. I leaned my head back against the head-rest and sat there stroking Grace’s head and trying to take deep breaths. She whimpered and snuggled into me.
There was a flicker of movement in my wing mirror. A figure was advancing towards me. I sat up with a jerk, my heart beating fast. But I saw it wasn’t Kevin. This was a middle-aged woman walking a small dog. As she passed, she glanced at me. I followed her train of thought, as she went on for a yard or two and paused. She turned on her heel, came back and looked at me. I lowered the car window.
‘Are you all right?’ she said. She was older than me, about fifty, with a weather-beaten look and an upper-middle-class accent. A horsy woman, I guessed.
‘Yes, yes, I’m OK,’ I told her.’
I saw her looking at the baby fastened to my chest. She took in my dishevelled appearance and the smell of vomit.
‘I know I shouldn’t be carrying her like this,’ I said. ‘I’m afraid it’s an emergency.’ I groped about for a plausible explanation. ‘My friend’s been taken ill and I have to look after her baby. That’s her in the back. I only live a mile or two down the road.’
‘You don’t look very well yourself, if you don’t mind me saying so.’
‘I’m fine. Really.’
She looked doubtful. ‘Well, if you’re sure.’
‘Yes. Yes, I am.’ I smiled at her and started the engine.
As I drove off, I saw her in my mirror, standing on the pavement staring after us, while her Yorkshire terrier strained at its leash.
* * *
I drove the rest of the way to the Old Granary very slowly and very carefully. I got out of the car on legs that wobbled and took Grace into the house. I put her in her cot and went back for Agnes. I fished Kevin’s car keys out from where they’d slid under the passenger seat and put them in the pocket of my jeans. It was only as I unbuckled Agnes from her car seat, that I asked myself what on earth I was going to do with her? Her enjoyment of the car ride was over and she was beginning to grizzle. I took her inside and locked the door behind me. I put her in the cot with Grace. They were both cross and hungry. Any moment now they’d be screaming their heads off.
I climbed the stairs to the top of the house and picked up the binoculars. I looked out first along the track in the direction of Ely. I almost expected to see Kevin ad
vancing towards me on foot, but there was no one there. I crossed to the other window and looked over to Journey’s End. The hire-car was still there. I patted the pocket of my jeans and felt the reassuring outline of Kevin’s car-keys. He wouldn’t have more than one set and to walk round by road would take him an hour or so. It was much shorter across the fields, but I couldn’t see him wading through the drainage ditch up to his thighs in stagnant water. I opened the window. A waft of air carried in the scent of hay and a brief snatch of birdsong. The Cambridge to Ely train was trundling across the landscape. Ordinary people were on board, tourists perhaps, going to Ely to walk round the marina and the antique shops, to stroll through the narrow streets, maybe even go to evensong. I told myself I could relax now. There was plenty of time to ring the police. The important thing was that the children were safe. And so was I.
And with that knowledge came the reaction.
I began to shake again. A wave of nausea swept over me. I staggered into the bathroom and lowered myself on to the floor by the toilet bowl. I retched but nothing came up. I managed to lie down on the bathroom floor before I passed out completely and lay there gazing at the ceiling. Little lights exploded in front of my eyes. In the room below, first one baby then the other began to scream. Gradually the nausea ebbed away. After a few minutes I sat up slowly I got hold of the side of the bath and pulled myself clumsily to my feet.
I heard the sound of a car approaching. I looked out of the window towards Ely. My heart lurched. A car was coming down the track. The next moment I recognized the car. It drew up outside the garden gate and Joe got out.
Chapter Seventeen
THE doorbell rang as I was making my shaky way down the stairs from the study to the ground floor.
I opened the door. Joe had prepared what he was going to say and he launched straight into it.
‘I woke up this morning feeling a total jerk – that business with Kevin, and what I said later on. I just had to come back to apologize. I mean, we’re not kids any more, are we? We can’t turn back the clock. But, gee, I hope we can be friends – I’ll hate myself if I’ve spoiled that…’
Stage Fright Page 19