No Child of Mine

by Susan Lewis

  ‘Which isn’t a good influence on Ottilie, I know. I admit, I worry about it a lot, but grief is a strange beast, isn’t it? There’s no knowing how it’s going to take a person, and poor Erica, she’s still suffering terribly over our tragic loss. She hardly leaves the house, and as for letting Ottilie out of her sight, she almost never does. She’s terrified, of course, of losing her too. Between us, I’m sure it’s why Ottilie can’t settle at nursery – in her own three-year-old way she’s worried about her mother, and feels it’s her responsibility to take care of her.’

  Which is a situation that absolutely can’t be allowed to continue, Alex was thinking. ‘What about when it comes time for her to start school?’ she asked. ‘She’ll have to be parted from her mother then.’

  ‘Well, yes – and no. If it’s still an issue, and obviously I hope it isn’t, we’ll probably go in for home schooling.’

  Which was their right, but almost certainly not in Ottilie’s best interests.

  ‘Have you tried to get some help for your wife?’ Alex asked bluntly.

  ‘Oh indeed I have, but as you’ll know very well, you can’t force someone into counselling. They have to want the help or there’s really no point, and I’m afraid my wife seems to feel that her grief is her final connection to Jonathan. If she lets that go, then there won’t be anything left of him at all.’

  Alex knew mothers who’d taken many years to start functioning again after the death of a child. While entirely sympathetic, her main concern was always for the effect the withdrawal, or instability, might be having on any siblings. ‘What about Ottilie?’ she asked. ‘How well does your wife engage with her?’

  Wade nodded, as though pondering the question. ‘I’d say reasonably well,’ he replied. ‘Of course, I don’t see them together when I’m at school, but there never appears to be any disharmony when I get home.’

  As he picked up his tea and scone, apparently seeming to think he’d said enough for now, Alex made a quick assessment of what she’d learned so far. Mrs Wade was clearly not in a healthy state of mind, while Mr Wade, though insisting he was doing his best, wasn’t taking the steps he must know he needed to take.

  She wanted to know why.

  ‘Oh, there is just one other minor thing,’ he added, ‘you’ll probably notice that Ottilie has a small bruise under one eye. I’m afraid she tripped and fell in the garden the other day, you know how children do? I only mention it so you won’t go getting the wrong idea.’

  Alex nodded benignly, and reining in the wrong idea until she’d seen the bruise for herself, she turned at the sound of footsteps out in the hall. She was already bracing herself for an excuse as to why Ottilie couldn’t come down to see her, but her misgivings faded as the door opened and Erica Wade came in first, saying, ‘It’s all right, there’s nothing to be afraid of.’

  Noting the lack of warmth in her tone, together with the fact that it was the first time she’d actually heard the woman speak, Alex rose to her feet – and as the dearest, sweetest little creature came in through the door she felt such a tender catch in her heart that she almost gasped a laugh.

  And then it hit her. This was the little girl she’d seen in the park, the one she’d found alone on a swing, then watched walk away with her father. The one she’d worried about afterwards without quite knowing why.

  Someone up there had brought them together again.

  At first glance, Ottilie didn’t appear to resemble either of her parents: her eyes were large and anxious in her pixie face, and her cloud of fluffy dark hair looked as soft and mussed as a baby’s. She was wearing blue leggings, pink trainers and a white cardigan top that Alex couldn’t quite see, thanks to the large sheet of paper she had clutched to her chest.

  ‘Come along, there’s a good girl,’ Wade beckoned. ‘This is Ms Lake who I told you about.’

  Ottilie came forward, her eyes going cautiously to Alex. Alex wondered if she recognised her, but if she did she gave no sign of it.

  Stooping to the child’s height, she smiled a welcome. ‘Hello,’ she said softly. ‘I’m very pleased to meet you. You can call me Alex if you like.’

  Ottilie was still a few feet away and seemed afraid to come any further.

  ‘Show Ms Lake – Alex – what you have for her,’ Wade encouraged.

  Ottilie glanced at the mother, but Erica Wade was behind Alex now, so Alex couldn’t see how the woman responded. However, after a further quick look at her father, Ottilie held out her sheet of paper.

  ‘It’s for you,’ Wade told Alex.

  ‘For me?’ Alex cried, feigning surprise and delight, and taking it she turned it around to get a better look. ‘Is this your house?’ she asked admiringly, though there wasn’t much telling what it might be.

  Ottilie didn’t answer.

  ‘Or is it a palace for a beautiful princess?’

  Whatever it was, Ottilie’s gaze was fixed on Alex as though she simply couldn’t tear it away. The bruise, Alex noted, wasn’t especially big and could easily have been acquired in a fall, but just as easily not.

  ‘Can I take the picture home with me?’ she asked.

  At that, Ottilie turned to her father.

  ‘Say yes,’ he told her.

  She looked at Alex again and nodded.

  ‘That’s lovely,’ Alex murmured, wishing she could touch the little girl’s cheek or smooth her hair, even sweep her up into her arms, she was so adorable. But she didn’t want to frighten her, or startle the parents, so she simply admired the picture again, and placed it on top of her bag so as not to forget it.

  As she settled more comfortably on her knees, she was surprised, and touched, when Ottilie did the same. ‘You’re a very pretty little girl,’ she whispered with a smile.

  Ottilie only blinked.

  ‘Can you tell me how old you are?’

  Ottilie’s eyes went down and Alex recalled noticing the lavish curl of lashes before. Then she realised that Ottilie had three fingers splayed on her knee.

  ‘You’re three!’ Alex exclaimed, sounding impressed.

  Ottilie’s eyes came up again.

  ‘And what sort of things do you like to do?’

  Ottilie only bit her lips.

  ‘You’re very good at drawing, so I expect you like that, don’t you?’

  Ottilie’s eyes darted to the picture and back again.

  ‘What about stories? Do you have any favourites?’

  ‘Oh, she’s very fond of Peppa Pig, aren’t you?’ Wade chipped in. ‘And she likes the Little Penguin Puppet Book, and The Hairy Fairy.’

  ‘The Hairy Fairy,’ Alex cried with a laugh. ‘I think I’d like that story too.’

  Ottilie was watching her closely, seeming unsure what to make of her, though apparently not ready to run and hide yet.

  ‘I bet you’ve got a lovely bedroom,’ Alex said. ‘Will you show it to me?’

  Ottilie’s mouth started to tremble as she looked anxiously at her father.

  ‘Oh, I think we can do that, can’t we?’ Wade declared, getting to his feet.

  ‘I hope it’s tidy, Ottilie. You did tidy it, the way you were told to, didn’t you?’

  Ottilie nodded.

  Alex turned to find out what Mrs Wade thought of the idea, but apparently Mrs Wade had nothing to say. However, she was watching Ottilie, and Alex could see that Ottilie was aware of it in the way she glanced back at her mother as Wade took her hand and started to walk her towards the door.

  Getting to her feet, Alex said, ‘Actually, this could be a good opportunity for me to have a little chat with Ottilie on her own.’

  Wade stopped and turned around. He appeared both surprised and worried. ‘Why would you want to do that?’ he enquired.

  ‘It’s normal procedure,’ she assured him with a smile, ‘but you ...’

  ‘I’ve already explained that Ottilie isn’t comfortable with strangers.’

  ‘And I was about to say that you can be nearby, and anyway, I think Ottilie will be fi
ne with me, won’t you, Ottilie?’

  Ottilie looked at her mother again, then up at her father.

  Not having quite worked out what was going on, Alex dropped back down to Ottilie’s height. ‘It’s OK,’ she told her gently. ‘I just want to have a look at your toys and books and see where you sleep. If you don’t want to speak to me you don’t have to, but it would be very nice if you did.’

  For such a shy child, Alex was thinking, she didn’t seem to have any trouble holding a gaze; however, this was the second or third time she’d noticed Ottilie pulling her lips between her teeth.

  ‘Tell you what, why don’t we all go upstairs?’ Wade suggested. ‘Then if Ottilie’s feeling big and brave perhaps it’ll be all right for her to be with Ms Lake – Alex – on her own.’

  Not missing Ottilie’s confusion, Alex followed father and child out into the hall, taking note of her surroundings again. The place appeared perfectly clean, and there was a gate at the top of the stairs obviously installed for Ottilie’s safety.

  ‘Does she sleepwalk?’ she asked, watching Ottilie’s tiny legs taking the stairs one at a time, while noting no sign of a nappy or a dummy.

  ‘No, never,’ Wade replied, glancing back over his shoulder.

  ‘But you still need the gate?’

  With an amused groan, he said, ‘I’m afraid it’s one of those things I keep meaning to get round to, you know how it is. It’s never closed these days though, because you can manage the stairs very well on your own, can’t you, Ottilie?’

  Ottilie’s head stayed down as she climbed.

  Alex felt such a swell of affection for the child that it seemed to fill her up completely, and though she hadn’t taken an instant shine to Wade it pleased her to see how proud he was of his daughter.

  Ottilie’s bedroom turned out to be as large as she’d expected, given the size of the house and small number of occupants, and was cluttered with the usual little-girl paraphernalia – indeed it was clear that in a material sense at least, Ottilie Wade didn’t want for much.

  ‘This is a very special room,’ Alex told her, as Ottilie gazed up at her, apparently waiting for a response.

  Letting go of her father’s hand, Ottilie trotted over to a pile of jigsaws and turned one of the boxes upside down so the pieces fell out on to the floor.

  ‘Ottilie, really,’ Wade admonished.

  Ottilie’s eyes immediately showed how worried she was that she’d done something wrong.

  Going to her, Alex said, ‘Will you teach me how to do the puzzle?’

  Ottilie was still watching her father.

  Turning to Wade, Alex noticed that he’d started to sweat. She was curious to know why, unless it was the climb up the stairs. Since she was unable to ask, she said, ‘I really would like to have a chat with Ottilie. Perhaps you wouldn’t mind ...’

  Wade clearly did. ‘But if she gets upset ...’

  ‘Don’t worry. You can leave the door open.’ Though she’d have preferred a few minutes’ total privacy with the child, at this stage of proceedings Ottilie wasn’t under protection, so being completely alone with her was neither allowed nor wise.

  Wade was staring down at Ottilie, who seemed more confused than ever, with her lips sucked tightly between her teeth.

  ‘Really, Mr Wade, it’ll be fine,’ Alex assured him.

  Apparently realising he had no choice but to accept, he said, ‘You’ll be a good girl now, Ottilie, won’t you? I’ll be out on the landing – and don’t forget the little chat we had, will you?’

  Ottilie’s face looked more pinched than ever.

  ‘It’s OK,’ he said softly. ‘There’s nothing to worry about. You just have to do as you’re told.’

  Wondering what might have been said in this little chat, Alex waited for him to leave, then turning to Ottilie she said, ‘Shall we sit on the floor to do the puzzle?’

  Ottilie took a step back.

  ‘It’s OK,’ Alex assured her, ‘I promise there’s nothing to be afraid of. I’d just like to see how good you are at doing puzzles. Is this one of your favourites?’

  Ottilie looked down at the pieces and nodded her head.

  ‘Come on then,’ Alex said, sitting cross-legged in front of it, ‘you can show me how it’s done.’

  Needing no more persuading Ottilie plonked herself down, crossed her own little legs, and began putting the large, colourful pieces together.

  For a few minutes Alex simply watched, captivated by the way the inexpert fingers searched and pressed, while the sound of her almost babylike breathing as she concentrated was as softly rhythmic as the rain outside.

  ‘You’re very good at this,’ she praised, as Ottilie completed the picture of a train with two children on board in surprisingly good time. ‘I think that’s the fastest I’ve ever seen it done.’

  Though Ottilie didn’t smile exactly, Alex felt sure she was pleased.

  ‘Have you got many puzzles?’ Alex asked.

  Immediately getting up, Ottilie went to fetch two more and put them down on the floor between them.

  ‘Can you do these on your own too?’

  Ottilie nodded.

  ‘You’re clearly very good at puzzles. What else do you like to play with?’

  Ottilie looked around uncertainly, then standing up she touched her nose and her toes, then gave an awkward little twirl as she clapped her hands.

  Enchanted, Alex laughed and clapped too. ‘You’re a lovely dancer,’ she told her. How had she not noticed before that neither parent had touched this child in her presence, apart from when her father had helped her up the stairs? For her part she could barely keep her hands to herself, she wanted to squeeze her so much.

  Ottilie was off across the room again, this time coming back with a large pad of white paper and a box that turned out to be full of chalks and crayons. For such a shy child, she certainly seemed to love having someone to show off to.

  ‘I can see you like drawing,’ Alex remarked, noticing several colourful pictures pinned to a board next to the bed, also dangling from the shelves and pasted on to the walls. The bedding, she’d already noted, looked fresh and clean, as did the rest of the room. Whatever else might be happening to Ottilie, her basic needs appeared to be taken care of. ‘Do you have lots of lovely pretty clothes?’ she asked.

  When Ottilie didn’t answer, Alex turned to find her staring at her with an unreadable expression.

  ‘I like clothes, do you?’ Alex ventured.

  Ottilie seemed unsure.

  ‘I know, why don’t we have a look in your wardrobe?’

  Immediately Ottilie got up and went to stand in front of a cupboard door. Since the latch was too high for her to reach Alex opened it herself, and found everything inside exactly as it should be. There turned out to be nothing in the chest of drawers to concern her either.

  Realising Ottilie was watching her, she started to twinkle. ‘I expect you think I’m really nosy, don’t you?’ she said.

  Ottilie didn’t answer.

  Alex clapped a hand over her face. ‘Oh no, I think my nose is growing. It’ll serve me right for poking it into places I shouldn’t go.’

  Ottilie’s eyes widened with awe.

  ‘Does it look big?’ Alex asked, taking her hand away.

  Ottilie looked and shook her head.

  ‘Oh, thank goodness for that,’ Alex gasped in relief. ‘I wouldn’t want to have a big nose, would you?’

  Again Ottilie shook her head.

  Alex knelt down in front of her and smiled.

  Ottilie quickly sucked in her lips.

  It was true to say that most children affected Alex deeply, no matter their age, background, colour or problems, but there was something about this little girl that was folding around her heart in a way that felt more tender, more potent than anything she generally experienced. It made her think of petals, soft and fragrant, or threads of silk weaving and spinning them together.

  Leaning back to get a clearer look at her, she said
, ‘You’re not afraid of me, are you?’

  Ottilie looked as though she might be.

  ‘I promise, you’ve no need to be. I’m here to be your friend.’

  At that Ottilie went to fetch a teddy from the bed. Hugging it closely to her chest she turned back to Alex again.

  Thinking she understood, Alex said, ‘Is teddy your friend too?’

  Ottilie nodded and rested her cheek on top of the bear’s head.

  ‘I expect he’s a very good friend, isn’t he? Does he have a name?’

  Ottilie tightened her hug and began twisting from side to side.

  ‘I’m sure he has a name. Is it Paddington?’

  Ottilie shook her head.

  ‘Dumbo?’

  Again no.

  ‘Eddie?’

  Still no.

  They went through several more options until to Alex’s amazement Ottilie whispered something.

  ‘What did you say?’ Alex prompted gently.

  ‘Boots,’ Ottilie repeated, and buried her face in his fur.

  Having to force back another urge to scoop her into an enveloping embrace, Alex sat quietly waiting to see what Ottilie would do next.

  What was really going on here, she asked herself, as Ottilie set her bear down between them and held a crayon to his paw. Why didn’t she speak when she almost certainly could, and even wanted to, and what had her father chatted to her about before Alex had come here? Picturing him outside on the landing, listening, hovering, she felt a sinking sensation inside, as though he was some sort of intruder in his own home. She really had to get past her antipathy for the man, or it was going to make it even more impossible to remain objective, particularly in view of her instant fondness for Ottilie.

  ‘Does Boots always join in your games?’ she asked, as Ottilie gripped the teddy’s paw and crayon to make it look as though he was doing the drawing.

  Ottilie shook her head.

  ‘No? So what sort of games do you play without him?’ Potentially one of the most leading questions she’d asked so far, and as Ottilie got up from the floor her father broke his silence to pop his head round the door.

  ‘Everything all right in here?’ he asked, trying to make it seem as though he was just passing by.

  Finding it annoying – and interesting – that he’d chosen that moment to reappear, Alex stood up, saying, ‘Ottilie was about to show me some of the games she plays.’