Bye Bye Baby

by McIntosh, Fiona

  ‘Now, Annie,’ Pierrot begins, fresh glee in his tone, ‘I’m going to give these lads an education. We’re a gang now. I’ve called us the Jesters Club — do you like our masks? Now, I want you to take these.’ He holds out two small white tablets.

  I recognise them immediately as Rohypnol. After my mother’s suicide attempt, I’m the one who administers her drugs, and I’m very familiar with the little brown bottle that gives her the escape she craves. I shake my head and turn away.

  ‘Take them!’ His voice is less kind now and he forces a Coke bottle filled with water into my hand. ‘Swallow them.’

  ‘No!’

  ‘Then your doggie dies. I’ll throttle him right in front of you. Or should I stick this knife into his gut so you can see his blood oozing out onto the floor at your feet? It’ll be a slower death for him, very painful.’ He reaches into the back of his trousers and withdraws a vicious looking knife.

  ‘Stop it,’ I beg. ‘Why are you doing this?’

  Billy tries to say something but Pierrot snarls at him to keep quiet. ‘I’m not fucking asking your permission,’ he adds, then turns back to me. ‘Drugs or dead doggie, Annie?’

  I can feel the tension in this disgustingly smelly room and realise I’m not going to escape and Beano could die. I take the two tablets from Pierrot and swallow. I want to live, take Beano home, hug my mother, work harder at school.

  ‘Uh-uh, Annie. Drink the water too. I want to see your throat moving as those tabs slip down.’

  I do as I’m told.

  ‘Good,’ Pierrot says. ‘Now, let’s all be friends and have a nice chat. You, runt boy, keep a watch outside.’

  Phil starts to protest.

  ‘Do as I say and you’ll get your go,’ he orders, and turns back to me and takes my hand.

  I want to pull away, I want to scream at Phil to run and get help, but I’m too scared. Instead, I watch as Beano’s taken away from danger, relaxing comfortably in the crook of Phil’s arm.

  The drugs take about fifteen minutes to work. All the time, the four masked figures watch me intently. Pierrot is talking, explaining something about needing to borrow my body. It sounds as if he’s speaking from the bottom of the sea. My peripheral vision fades and a strange warmth and buzzing wraps around my neck. It climbs into my head. I slump to the cold, damp floor.

  I could see myself from above now, a large untidy heap on the toilet block floor. Thirty years had passed, but somewhere deep inside I was still that fat, unhappy teenage girl. I had tried to separate myself from her as a way of blocking out the pain but I could no longer hold her at a distance. I was Anne McEvoy. I no longer looked like that girl and I was no longer a frightened, helpless child, but from this moment I would blend the Anne of my memories with the Anne of today. I could no longer outrun my past.

  ‘Anne, Anne!’

  Someone was shaking her.

  She stared at the person in front of her; it felt as if she was watching them from the end of a long tunnel.

  ‘Let me get you some water.’

  The tunnel began to fade and Anne realised she was still sitting in the comfortable bucket seat in Dr March’s rooms. Her psychiatrist looked worried.

  ‘What’s happening to you, Anne? Articulate it for me.’

  ‘I apologise, Dr March. I haven’t been sleeping well lately. I’m fine. Truly, I am. I didn’t eat breakfast and I’ve got a low blood sugar condition,’ she lied. ‘I didn’t faint, did I?’

  ‘You might as well have. You just disappeared, for want of a better word.’

  ‘Well, as you can see, I’m fine.’ She dug into her bag and pulled out a packet of fruit gums. ‘Three or four of these usually fix me. It’s because I didn’t eat properly this morning.’ She put two of the fruit gums into her mouth. ‘Please, let’s continue.’

  The therapist frowned, glanced down at her notes, and continued reluctantly. ‘Why didn’t Kim want children earlier in your relationship?’

  ‘I don’t think he’d really thought about children to be honest, until I became pregnant. We’d been glued together for so long that I think he believed a child might change our relationship irrevocably.’

  ‘And it did. You seem very calm, Anne, considering the man you’ve loved for so long is parting from you and the child you yearned for is no longer alive.’

  Anne smirked inwardly. Very calm — killing calm, in fact. She pasted an expression of quiet resolve on her face.

  ‘Parted,’ she corrected. ‘Kim and I are parted. In a way, I can understand why he needs to leave,’ she added. ‘The two miscarriages took their toll on both of us. It was so hard the first time. And then the second time, Kim was away, so he missed out on much of the trauma. I only told him about it when he got back and the baby had been gone a fortnight by then. I was trying to be strong for both of us, you see. Trying to protect him from the pain.

  ‘Then I was pregnant again eight months later, and James made it. Both our grandfathers were called James and it felt such a solid name, as though he were here to stay, because they both lived into their eighties. So when we lost him when he was six months old . . . well, it really broke Kim’s heart. I think he blamed me for the pain, and for somehow not saving his son. He fell in love with James, you see, and he wasn’t expecting that. He realised he really wanted a child bearing his name, his blood. And when the obstetrician told us I wouldn’t be able to have any more children, it was the last straw for Kim. It wasn’t about whether we loved one another. It was about grief. He’s running away from the sadness. I understand that and I forgive him.’

  Besides, it’s not really Kim or the loss of my babies that ruined my happiness, she thought. I was already ruined at fifteen.

  ‘And you, Anne. How are you coping with the loss of these precious little ones?’

  Anne smiled grimly. ‘I’m used to losing people, Dr March — my father and brother, my mother. I feel philosophical about our children. I wasn’t meant to have them. And it began earlier than you think. I had a teenage pregnancy that . . .’ She paused for a moment before adding, ‘Well, it failed. I’ve come to terms with not having children of my own during these past few sessions.’

  She watched a flare of interest in the therapist’s eyes at the mention of the teenage pregnancy but she had no intention of sharing any more with Dr March on that subject. She sighed. ‘Which is why this will be our last session, Dr March.’ And that threw the doctor off from her logical next question into what she did say.

  ‘Last?’

  ‘I’m here to say goodbye. I don’t believe I need this therapy any longer.’

  Dr March held her patient with a direct gaze. ‘Are you sure, Anne? I know that living abroad makes the travelling difficult —’

  ‘No, it’s nothing to do with that, Dr March,’ Anne cut in. ‘I realise what I need to do is face my demons myself.’

  ‘That’s excellent, Anne. But perhaps you need a guide to do that.’

  She shook her head firmly. ‘No, this is something I intend to do alone. Thank you for all of your care and counsel the past two years.’ She smiled brightly, loading it with confidence as she stood and offered her hand. ‘I’m taking control of my life and fixing what should have been fixed a long time ago.’

  15

  Jack felt beat. It had been another long day and he found himself once again slumped in his sofa, his energy rapidly being sapped by the welcoming softness of the cushions that just begged him to close his eyes and sleep. But he knew he had to get up, heat the grill and cook the two fat field mushrooms he’d grabbed at Highgate Village’s small greengrocer on the way home. The best he could do tonight was to press the meaty mushrooms between a ciabatta roll with some Dijon mustard and perhaps some rocket if any was still lurking in the crisper. That would be dinner . . . if he could raise his fatigued body from the couch.

  As he imagined the smell of grilling mushrooms his mobile rang and he closed his eyes with a sigh. Dinner would have to wait. He glanced at the screen as he presse
d the button. ‘Yes, Kate.’

  ‘Sorry to disturb.’

  ‘You’re not,’ he lied.

  ‘But I figure you’re at home, so —’

  ‘I could be anywhere, with anyone, clubbing even . . .’ He heard the pause and smiled to himself.

  ‘Right, yes, sorry.’ Her tone was no longer so certain.

  He made it easier for her. ‘But as it happens, I am at home, just trying to find the energy to move from the couch where I landed a few minutes ago.’

  ‘I know the feeling. I just wanted to let you know, sir, that I’ve spoken again with Eva Truro, Fletcher’s old English teacher.’

  ‘And?’

  ‘It’s all fixed. I’m seeing her tomorrow at noon.’

  ‘Okay, that’s good.’

  ‘Seems like this female killer idea has legs.’

  ‘Yes, your instincts are right on the mark. And if Sarah gets a lead on these cold cases, I want you to take her to Sussex with you. Drop her off in Brighton.’

  ‘I’m going to Hurstpierpoint,’ Kate replied. ‘It’s not as far as Brighton.’

  He could tell how hard she was working to keep her tone as pleasant as she could, but still he heard its edge.

  ‘I know, but take her all the same. She can catch the train from Brighton back to you at Hassocks Station for the return journey to London, or work it out whichever way suits, but give her a lift.’ His tone said there was no negotiation on this.

  ‘Yes, of course.’

  ‘Was there anything else?’

  ‘No. Again, I’m sorry to have disturbed you.’

  ‘I told you, you didn’t. I’m just sitting here thinking that I should fix myself something to eat. And if you haven’t already, then I suggest you do the same. I know you’re as tired as I am.’

  ‘I will. Er, night, Jack.’

  There had been absolutely no need for that call, Jack realised. Kate had called him for the sake of it. He wondered why. Perhaps she was still smarting from the way he’d given Sarah the limelight. It was important that he didn’t favour Kate over the others. It would be easy to, of course, because she was fast, smart and in his opinion the best detective on the team. But once petty jealousy began to breed amongst a small group, it was a very short hop to contempt and then he’d be dealing with squabbles all day when what he needed was a slick team working cohesively. No, it had been important to draw a circle around himself today so that Brodie and even Sarah understood he ran a tight but fair command, and to show that Kate stood on the outside of that circle, just as they all did.

  He sighed and stood, stretched as he yawned, then reached for the bag of mushrooms that he’d dropped on the sofa beside him as he arrived home. The landline rang. He closed his eyes briefly in dread.

  ‘Jack Hawksworth,’ he said.

  ‘Ah, formal then,’ said a voice that he took a moment to recognise.

  She helped him. ‘It’s Sophie.’

  ‘Sophie, hi,’ he said, genuinely pleased. ‘I’m sorry to sound so abrupt — it’s been a long day — and I’m equally sorry I haven’t called.’

  ‘That’s alright. I thought I should confirm tomorrow’s theatre tickets.’

  ‘You got them. Well done.’

  ‘Are we still on?’

  ‘Absolutely,’ he said, feeling a thrill of delight that there was something in this draining week to look forward to. ‘I’ve booked a table at Wan Kei in Chinatown for six-thirty — is that okay?’

  ‘Perfect. I’ll see you there, shall I?’

  ‘Will you be alright to —’

  ‘Jack, don’t start. I’ll be fine. I’ll see you outside the restaurant at six-thirty. Don’t be late or I’ll make you do more than pay for dinner.’

  He smiled. ‘I won’t be late, I promise.’

  Sarah arrived at the office before Jack had even unravelled his scarf or taken off his thick jacket.

  ‘Wow, you’re early,’ he said, glancing at his watch as he put down the cappuccino he’d picked up on the way into the Yard. ‘If I’d known, I’d have brought you one too.’

  ‘That’s okay, sir, I don’t drink coffee.’

  ‘Right,’ he said, a flicker of a smile touching his mouth. ‘What’s got you in with the birds then?’

  ‘Remember that former senior policeman I was trying to track down in Brighton?’

  ‘Sergeant Moss, is it?’ he said, taking a sip and feeling the rich caffeine hit the spot.

  ‘That’s the one. Well, he and I have been playing telephone tag but we finally spoke last night. I would have contacted you immediately, sir, but didn’t want to disturb you. I think we might have something.’

  ‘Sarah, always disturb me — I’ll never mind, okay?’ he said generously, thinking about Kate’s call. ‘So tell me what you’ve got for us.’

  Sarah pushed her glasses further up her nose. ‘It’s an abduction case from the mid-seventies — Sergeant Moss said he’d be happy to talk to me about it and he’s going to dig up the file. Says it’s bothered him all these years, involved a teenage girl. The timing suits — it happened in the summer of ’75. My gut tells me it might yield something.’

  ‘Alright, good job, Sarah, it’s all yours. Run with it and get yourself down to see him, but first we’ll have a briefing here — I see Cam, Swamp and the others are dribbling in. Hang on.’

  He motioned to Kate who had just arrived, bringing a gust of Rive Gauche perfume in with her. He liked the scent, always had. ‘Morning, Kate’

  ‘Sir?’ she replied crisply, no doubt also remembering the previous evening’s unnecessary call.

  ‘Sarah’s on to something. As we discussed I want you to take her to Brighton today. Use a pool car.’

  Sarah looked at Kate and back at her boss. ‘Sir, I don’t mind catching the train. I could be —’

  ‘Listen to me, both of you,’ Jack said, and there was a new edge to his tone that neither had heard previously. ‘We are working on a serial murder case, which, I’m sure you both agree, doesn’t seem to be over yet. There are possibly more corpses coming our way — at least two, we’re all guessing. The Super — rather predictably — wants the killer caught, but I’m getting the impression that neither of you is cooperating as fully with each other as I’d like to achieve the Super’s goal. Take this time on the journey south to work it out, would you? Come back with good news from your respective tasks and a new attitude towards one another. Otherwise, one of you is gone. And don’t be too sure about which it might be. I’m not blind or deaf. I see the sneers and I hear the undertone. It won’t do. Not when I lead an operation. Is that understood?’ He eyed them both but he hoped Kate felt the greatest burn from his scorching words, because he knew the animosity was mostly one way, from her. But he wanted to sound impartial at this stage.

  ‘Yes, sir,’ they both answered, glumly.

  Jack softened his tone. ‘Then get on with it, and bring back something that can help us break this case apart.’

  Jack moved into the main operations area and got his team’s attention. ‘Alright, everyone, you know what we’re doing. It’s called legwork. I want to know everything we can about the schools and teenage lives of the two victims. I want to know exactly where Sheriff lived in this place called Hangleton and who he hung around with. We must find the stammerer — start hunting down a William Fletcher or Billy Fletcher. I need a deeper connection made between Sheriff and Farrow by close of today — what they got up to that might be prompting revenge killings now.

  ‘Split up the plod work between yourselves and go at it. I’m going to see the Super and explain where we’re at for his press conference tomorrow evening. By tomorrow lunchtime I want to be able to give him something to start working with, and I want this whiteboard filled with information.’

  A chorus of mumbles greeted his urging and people started moving off to their respective work areas. Jack headed into his own office, hoping to get some thoughts on paper for his meeting with Martin Sharpe.

  Joan followed him
in and spoke quietly. ‘Jack, are you ignoring the messages from that Deegan fellow in the Ghost Squad?’

  He looked at her, irritated. ‘What’s that all about then?’ he demanded, equally softly, for her hearing only.

  She shrugged. ‘He gave nothing away. Said you were to phone him.’

  ‘He can whistle Tipperary backwards. I’m busy.’

  ‘He was rather insistent,’ she warned.

  ‘Well, Deegan can kiss my ar—’

  ‘Now, now, Jack. Don’t make me report you for vulgarity.’

  He found a smile for her. ‘If he rings again, keep him off my back for now, could you? Lie if you have to.’

  She tsk-tsked as she left.

  ‘Please?’ he called to her retreating back.

  ‘I call in my favours from time to time, Jack,’ she said over her shoulder and he knew she would do her best to protect him. ‘Now go and see the Super, he’s waiting for you.’

  The screen she was in front of put itself to sleep and Anne stared back at her reflection, wishing once again that she’d never felt her maternal clock tick over, wished she’d never mentioned babies or being a family. If only Kim had stayed, or if only she’d been able to keep one of the little ones alive, she might have remained solid, grounded, in control. But their son had died and Kim had left. He said it was to go travelling for a year, to recover his equilibrium, but Anne knew it was a way of giving her sufficient time and space to graciously move out of his home in Brittany and settle herself back in England.

  And now she had entered a very new and dark place. She felt as though she was staring into an abyss and whispering at her from its depths was the Jesters Club, still laughing at her, still calling her Bletch, still stealing her life from her.

  Had Dr March been aware of Anne’s teenage trauma, she might have begun pushing some alarm bells. But no one knew. No one except Anne and the Jesters Club. And so now Anne was taking charge and putting things right.