Stolen

by Susan Lewis

  ‘I’m not sure. She’s confused about everything, understandably, and feeling very protective of her father since she found out you and I used to be married.’

  ‘I didn’t know you’d told her that,’ he said, surprised. ‘Do the others know yet?’

  ‘No, but they’re coming at the weekend. I thought we should tell them together.’

  Thinking of how Simon might react, he said, ‘Of course I’ll be there if you want me to be, but it might be easier on them if they have a little time to themselves, once they know, before they have to face me.’

  Realising he could be right, she paused. ‘Shall we discuss it with Pippa? She was always the wise one and I don’t expect that’s changed.’

  His eyes were merry as he replied, ‘I’d be more inclined to call her bossy myself, and no, she hasn’t changed.’

  Looking down at her glass, Rose said, ‘She’s devoted her whole life to you and now …’ Her eyes came to his. ‘How long has she been in remission?’

  ‘Over a year, and you know her, she won’t let it beat her until she’s ready, which we hope won’t be any time soon.’

  Rose was gazing deeply into his eyes. ‘I thought, after Douglas was killed, that you might get in touch … I wasn’t sure where you were …’

  ‘I wanted to come, but it wasn’t the right time. I knew how hard his death must have hit you, and losing your grandson too … You didn’t need me around to make life more complicated, or to bring back memories …’

  She put her fingers to his lips, stopping him. ‘Do you ever think about her?’ she asked in a whisper.

  Understanding who she meant, he found it hard to breathe for a moment. ‘Not a day goes by when I don’t.’ He tried to smile, but couldn’t. ‘Tell me about Becky,’ he said, having to change the subject. ‘From the photos Douglas sent she’s the image of her beautiful mother.’

  Biting her lip, Rose said, ‘Becky’s cut her hair very short and she dresses in quite a mannish way, but you’re right, she is like me. I can see you in her though, around her mouth – she has your smile and the shape of your face. So does Simon, but being fair everyone thought he was like Douglas.’

  ‘He’s like my father,’ John said. ‘Pippa notices it too.’

  Rose’s eyes drifted as she said, ‘I think about her too, all the time wishing I could turn back the clock so I could do things differently. I’ll never stop blaming myself …’

  ‘Ssh,’ he said gently. ‘It wasn’t your fault, you know that.’

  ‘But it was. I’ve ruined your life …’

  ‘Rose, my love, we mustn’t allow ourselves to go back to that time.’

  ‘It’s not a question of going back, we’ve never escaped it, and we never will.’

  ‘Maybe not, but there’s nothing we can do to change it now, so we mustn’t allow it to spoil what lies ahead,’ John told her.

  Her eyes were full of grief and tenderness as she gazed into his. ‘Do you think fate will be kind to us this time?’ she asked. ‘Would it allow that, after what I did?’

  ‘I have no doubt of it,’ he murmured, taking her hand. Then, with a mischievous light in his eyes, ‘To be frank, it’s not fate that I’m afraid of now, it’s my own children.’

  Sarah was reading her mother’s text as she walked into the office with a stack of mail she’d collected from the box in the gatepost.

  ‘So you’re going to deal with it?’ Lucy was saying into the phone as she gave Sarah a wave, followed by a curious look as she remembered Sarah was supposed to be overseeing the house clearance at Nailsworth. ‘OK, great. I’ll be here all afternoon,’ and ringing off she said, ‘Everything all right?’

  ‘More or less,’ Sarah replied. ‘The house turned out to be more of a shed, so we’re all done and the van’s on its way back. Which,’ she continued, ‘is more than I can say for my mother and John. Apparently they’ve gone for lunch.’

  Lucy’s eyebrows rose.

  ‘The next thing you know they’ll be getting married,’ Sarah said snappishly.

  Lucy blinked at the sudden leap from table to altar, but before she could respond the phone rang again and by the time she’d finished Sarah was on the line taking down the details of a toyshop on its way into receivership.

  ‘I’m sure I’ve got an email somewhere,’ Sarah said, going on to her computer as she rang off, ‘from someone who’s interested in old toys.’

  ‘We’ve actually got a couple of collectors listed,’ Lucy told her, ‘and a dealer, if memory serves me correctly. Aaagh! The mail, I’d forgotten about it today. Anyway, that was Michael I was talking to just now. He’s going to pop in later, but apparently he’s received the Maureen email and he’s happy to handle it. Plus, he hasn’t heard anything back yet from the letters he sent out, but it’s still early days, so he thinks we should only be quietly optimistic about the Ring business going away.’

  ‘It would be a great relief if it did,’ Sarah commented. ‘The last thing we need is to start sinking all our profit into legal fees.’

  ‘Too right,’ Lucy agreed. ‘Cromstone Auctions,’ she said into the phone.

  It continued that way for the next couple of hours, with no time to exchange more than necessary information between or during calls, until eventually Sarah had to leave for a viewing over in the next village.

  ‘Could you please get that before you go?’ Lucy said, hanging on the line as another started to ring.

  Scooping up the phone, Sarah was about to announce Cromstone Auctions when a female voice said, ‘Your mother would never have employed a child-killer, and none of us can believe that you’re letting your daughter mix with him.’

  It took a moment for Sarah to realise that the woman thought she was speaking to Lucy. When she did, she felt herself turning cold. ‘Who is this?’ she asked.

  ‘It doesn’t matter. It’s just a few of us thought you should know that until you get the child-killer off your staff no one around here is going to want to work for you,’ and with that the line went dead.

  Replacing the receiver, Sarah busied herself with loading her bag as she tried to decide what to do. Since she hadn’t yet told Lucy about John it didn’t feel like the right time simply to blurt it out; however, if the locals were starting to make phone calls like that then maybe she didn’t have a choice. Looking at her watch and seeing that she was already running late, she decided it was unlikely anyone would make such a call again in the next couple of hours, so it could wait till she got back. In fact, maybe she should consult her mother about it and even ask her to talk to Lucy, since Rose must surely know the truth of this mystery surrounding John.

  It was early evening by the time Michael pulled into the farmhouse driveway, to be met by Hanna who was so busy texting as she came towards the car that she walked straight into it. Since it was no longer moving he knew she wasn’t hurt, but he leapt out anyway, just in case.

  ‘Sorry,’ she said, as he reached her, ‘I was miles away. I suppose you’re looking for Mum.’

  ‘Yes, I am. Is she here?’

  ‘In the office, as usual.’ She was about to go on her way, then thought better of it. ‘You’re a lawyer, aren’t you?’ she said, regarding him closely.

  ‘That’s right. Why, do you need some advice?’

  Her expression remained sober as she said, ‘Actually, yes I do. I want to know if it’s possible to sue someone for telling lies about people.’

  Giving the matter some thought, he said, ‘Well, I guess that depends what’s being said and who’s saying it.’

  Her young face was pinched with resentment. ‘I don’t want to repeat it,’ she said, ‘but if I hear anyone say it again I’ll let you know. How much will it cost?’

  ‘I’ll give you your first consultation for free,’ he promised.

  ‘Cool. Actually, I might get my dad to have a word with them, because he knows how to shut people up when they’re sounding off too much.’

  Watching her walking on towards the gates, he was a
bout to continue inside when she turned back, saying, ‘If anyone says anything to you, tell them you’re going to sue them for libel.’

  ‘Slander,’ he corrected, ‘and I’ll be sure to.’

  Presuming she was involved in some teenage wrangle, he pocketed his keys and walked on under the arch into the courtyard, where some topiary sculptures had recently taken up residence around a fountain full of nymphs.

  ‘Hi, am I interrupting?’ he said, finding Lucy sitting at her desk with her head bent over a letter.

  When she looked up he was taken aback by the terrible pallor of her face.

  ‘You might want to read this,’ she said, passing him the letter. ‘It would seem my parents have gone away for a while.’

  ‘Do they say where?’

  She shook her head, and pushed her hands through her hair as she felt herself starting to shake.

  Tearing his eyes from her, Michael looked down at the letter.

  My Dearest Lucy,

  Dad and I have gone on a little trip for a while. Please don’t worry about us, we are both fine. (I know, because of the very loving person you are, that you will care, in spite of everything. Can we take some credit for your kind and generous nature – I’d like to think so, but maybe you would rather we didn’t.)

  We always knew that what we did was wrong, but when God brought you to us it was like a miracle, so we allowed Him in His wisdom to be the judge. If He hadn’t meant you for us, He would take you away, we told ourselves, but He never did and for that we have thanked Him every day of our lives. No one could be blessed with a more wonderful daughter. You always seemed more than we deserved, and we did everything we could to make ourselves worthy of you.

  When we came to Cromstone we had no way of knowing what awaited us there. Now we are able to see how God was starting to bring together the people He had separated in His mysterious way, but at the time all we saw was a friendly little backwater and the opportunity to own a small auction room. We remember with many smiles how delighted you were when we found it. It has been a challenge, but a joy getting it to where it is now, and we know that you’ll make an even bigger success of it, with Sarah’s help, and of course with John’s.

  You can perhaps imagine our great shock when John first arrived in Cromstone. We hadn’t heard about him, or read about him or his wife, for many years. We knew nothing of Sarah’s family either, apart from the fact that her father was the wonderful writer Douglas Bancroft. How curious God is in the way He moves.

  It seems now that He has revoked his blessing on us, which is why we have gone away for a while. We shan’t be gone long, and when we return we will be very happy to see you, presuming, of course, that you will want to see us. If you don’t, we will understand and won’t blame you at all.

  Until then we will sign off in the way we will always think of ourselves,

  Your loving Mum and Dad. XXX

  When he’d finished his eyes went straight to Lucy. By now her face was so strained he could almost see the veins beneath her skin. ‘Is there a postmark on the envelope?’ he asked.

  ‘Yes, it was sent yesterday from Maidstone, which doesn’t tell us anything apart from the fact that they’re the other side of the country without a phone.’

  And it’s not so far from Hastings, he was thinking, where eighteen-month-old Lucy Fisher lost her life in a fire.

  Her eyes were heavy as she looked at him. ‘I know it’s not there in so many words,’ she said, ‘but you can’t read it any other way, can you? They’re not my parents.’

  Unable to disagree, he simply held her gaze.

  Feeling as though a wrecking ball had crept in quietly to finish shattering her world, she reached for the letter and took a tremulous breath. She couldn’t make herself accept this. Throughout everything she’d experienced in her life, the loneliness and isolation, the rejection of other children, the feelings of never quite fitting in, she had always been able to hold on to her parents. They’d made everything right and safe, they’d never let her down, but now they were telling her it was all an illusion. The safety net had gone and she was falling, falling, disappearing into a void that was black and endless, and she was so afraid.

  As though sensing her need, Michael stooped down in front of her and took her hands. ‘It’ll be all right,’ he whispered gently.

  She wanted to ask how, but what she said was, ‘They’re assuming I know more than I do.’

  He nodded.

  ‘So what do I do?’ she asked. Her voice sounded hollow and distant, as if it, too, had stopped being hers.

  ‘I think they’re telling you in the letter what you should do,’ he replied.

  As her heart turned over she looked away.

  ‘You need to talk to John.’

  John! What did all this mean? ‘He’ll think I’m crazy.’

  ‘Not if you show him the letter.’

  Taking a breath, she closed her eyes as she tried to contain her emotions.

  ‘Would you like me to come with you?’ he offered.

  Looking at him, and realising how alone she would feel right now if he weren’t there, she almost sobbed as she nodded.

  ‘Would you like to go this evening, or would you prefer to wait until you’ve had some time to think?’

  ‘I can’t this evening,’ she answered. ‘There’s a pre-term meet and greet at Hanna’s school. I have to go.’

  ‘Of course.’ Still holding her hands, he drew her up with him as he stood. ‘It’ll be fine,’ he assured her, pulling her into a comforting embrace.

  Not knowing what else to do, she held on to him and allowed herself to feel his quiet strength flowing through to her. ‘Thank you,’ she whispered.

  Pulling back to look at her again, he put a hand gently to her face.

  She tried to smile, but found she couldn’t.

  ‘If you like,’ he said, ‘I could show John the letter for you.’

  Swallowing hard, she turned her head to one side as she thought. Then, realising how much easier it might be if he did, she looked at him again and nodded.

  Half an hour later Michael was sitting on a sofa in John and Philippa’s drawing room, watching John as he read the letter. Though his face had turned white he’d said nothing yet, and when he finished reading his head remained down. Then Michael realised he was sobbing, so hard that he could barely breathe.

  ‘Oh my goodness, what is it?’ Philippa gasped, going to him.

  John pushed the letter into her hand and tried to speak, but it still wasn’t possible. Michael had never seen a man so overcome, and felt a surge of sympathy.

  ‘She’s alive,’ John finally managed. ‘After all this time …’ His voice gave out again, and he wrapped an arm round Philippa as she tried to take in what she was reading. Then she was crying too, and turning to John she whispered, ‘Can it be true? Are you reading this the same way as I am? Yes, of course you are.’

  John’s reddened eyes went to Michael.

  Realising he was seeking some sort of reassurance, Michael said, ‘Obviously, I don’t know the history, but it seems this letter is giving you some news that you’ve … Well, that you …’

  ‘I’m too afraid to believe it,’ John told him roughly. ‘And yet … Oh my God, this is … We’d given up hope. I kept telling myself … We never thought to see her again …’ He couldn’t go any further, it was simply too much.

  ‘John had a little girl,’ Philippa explained in a voice that shook with feeling. ‘A precious wee girl who …’ She gasped for more breath. ‘She was stolen from us when she was almost three, and we’ve never been able to find out what happened to her.’ She used her fingers to dry her cheek. ‘It devastated our lives,’ she whispered raggedly. ‘Everything changed from that day … We’ve none of us ever been the same again. You see, we thought she was … We thought so many things …’

  Being a parent himself, it wasn’t hard for Michael to imagine what they’d put themselves through, and he felt his heart churn with pity.<
br />
  ‘She was so sweet and lovely,’ Philippa told him. ‘We adored her …’

  ‘I have to speak to Rose,’ John said suddenly. He was trying to collect his thoughts, but it wasn’t possible. ‘No, I must see Lucy.’ He turned to his sister. ‘I don’t know what to do,’ he said helplessly.

  Thrown by the mention of Rose, Michael said, ‘Lucy’s gone to the school.’ Did he mean Rose Bancroft, Simon’s mother? Surely not, and yet some instinct was telling him that it was Rose Bancroft. The implications started to make his head spin. Did Simon and Becky know they had a sister? Was Sarah aware of how she and Lucy were related? What was this going to mean to Lucy? How would she take it if he turned out to be right and Rose actually was her mother?

  Silenced by the enormity of what was happening, Philippa was holding tightly to John’s hand as she tried to cope with it all. She was thinking about the day Daphne Fisher had come to see them, just after they’d arrived. What a shock it must have been for the woman when they’d first arrived and confided in her why they were there. Yet the way she’d fled the baker’s shop at their first meeting suggested she’d already guessed who they were. So why had she come that day? To be sure, Philippa supposed. Or to find out if they already knew who Lucy was. What a turmoil it must have thrown her into when she’d discovered who Sarah’s mother was. To think that all these years Daphne and Brian Fisher had had their precious Alexandra, bringing her up as their own, apparently treating her well, but nevertheless depriving her of the life and family that should have been hers. What they’d done to John and Rose, to her too, and Alex, was monstrous and unforgivable, yet never in a hundred lifetimes would she have imagined them capable of such a terrible crime. They should be made to pay, but even if they were, nothing could ever make up for what they’d done. The years, the lifetimes, the dreams that had been stolen could never be returned.

  When he sensed they were ready for him to speak again, Michael said, ‘I think, before we go any further, that we must be certain we’re not misunderstanding anything.’

  Though Philippa nodded agreement, Michael couldn’t be sure how much she was taking in.