Lie For Me

by Mick Bose

  LIE FOR ME

  Mick Bose

  For Mum and Dad

  Copyright © 2017 by Mick Bose

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or

  mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without

  permission in writing from the author.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are

  products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual

  persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  *****

  CHAPTER 1

  I wake up to the sound of police sirens. It’s an unusual sound in our quiet and peaceful neighbourhood. There might be an occasional beep from a car horn as one of the mums gets frustrated during school drop-off traffic, but police sirens? In Richmond, West London, they’re as alien as snowflakes in the desert.

  I lie awake in bed, listening to the sirens wailing as they fade. Where are they headed? The sound persists for a long time, seeping into the walls of houses. I look at Jeremy’s sleeping form next to me, his back curved, vertebrae on his spine outlined like beads in a garland. For a moment I think of snuggling up to him, especially as Molly is still in bed.

  But the police siren has made me restless. My shoulders are tense, and my heart beats faster. I pad over to the bay window and peek out from the curtain. Empty, apart from Mr Mountbatten who jogs past, back from his early morning run on Wimbledon Common. Cars are parked in driveways, soon to be boarded by raucous children and rushing parents. I look at the red numbers on the digital phone. 6:10 am. Stifling a yawn, I try to get back into bed and close my eyes. Jeremy stirs, but doesn’t wake up.

  My eyes are closed, but my mind is full of strange thoughts, half-repressed memories. I can’t make sense of them, and I don’t want to either. This strange state of suspension, half-numb, half-alive, is not one I like. My body still wants to remain in the bed, warmed by Jeremy. If he wakes up, I know I will, too, and one thing will lead to another. But he sleeps with his mouth half-open, almost snoring. So much for that.

  Sighing, I lift myself off the bed, and put on my fluffy Peppa Pig slippers, bought by Molly last year for Mother’s Day. Well, bought by Jeremy, but apparently it was Molly’s wish. I love how snug and warm they feel, especially on this chilly winter’s morning. I go to the loo, then pad downstairs and turn the heating on. The kitchen is quite a mess, despite there being only three of us in the house. After Molly came back from school last night, she dumped all her stuff in the hallway by the front door. I look at myself in the mirror as I bend down to pick up her stuff. My coppery-red hair is getting longer, and needs a trim. There are shadows under my eyes, and I look every bit a mother who could do with an extra hour in bed. I would’ve as well, if it hadn’t been for that bloody police car.

  As I pick up Molly’s gym bag, trainers, hockey stick and scrapbook, I can’t help but wonder what the police were in such a rush about. Something must have happened nearby. I hope all of Molly’s school friends and their families are safe.

  It’s 6.45 by the time Jeremy comes down. Jeremy is six-one, rangy, with a thin but muscular build. His dark hair is closely cut, and his hazel eyes twinkle as he hugs me.

  “Where were you this morning?” he asks, pecking me on the lips.

  “Didn’t you hear the police siren?” Unwelcome thoughts rise up like a shadow in my head, and I turn away so he can’t see the expression on my face.

  He shrugs, and starts to make his coffee. Jeremy is a solicitor at a local law firm. We met four years ago when he moved down here from the South Coast. We met at a bar in Wimbledon, and have been together since. Molly and he hit it off from the start, although she was only four when they met.

  I didn’t want Molly to meet, or know, her real dad. Ever.

  When Jeremy proposed to me last year, it was the biggest moment of my life. After everything I had been through, I never thought I would be this happy ever again. Jeremy is my rock. Steady, dependable, trustworthy. I had no problems saying yes. We had a small registry marriage with a few friends and my dad.

  As we get ready, I can’t shake the feeling of unease in my veins. The street seems quiet outside the window, trees bending in a slight wind. The police sirens mean something has happened close by. A crime has occurred in our neighbourhood, and it could be serious. There was more than one squad car, I could tell by the sound.

  Were they chasing someone? I flip out my phone and scroll through local news. Nothing as yet. An odd premonition of danger has gripped me and I can’t shake it off. My breathing is faster, and strange thoughts flutter in my head.

  I don’t know why, but I feel something awful is about to happen.

  CHAPTER 2

  Molly is up and dressed soon, and by 8.00, we are out of the door. Jeremy kisses us goodbye as he heads off to work. We get into my Audi A4 Estate and drive off towards school.

  Traffic is heavy as we get closer to school, coming to a standstill as we reach the school road.

  Eventually, we park and get to the school gates. We have been at this school for four months only. This is a better school than the one closer to our house, with much better Ofsted ratings. Molly was bullied at her last school, and it was painful for both of us.

  Crofton High is a grammar school, and bullying is almost non-existent.

  Among the gaggle of mothers waiting with their children in the schoolyard, I spot Eva and her daughter, Charlotte. Eva and I have known each other since high school, and we are very close.

  “Horrible news at the hospital,” Eva says, shaking her head. She scrutinises my face. “That’s what the police sirens were about.”

  “How did you know?” I am amazed.

  “Word travels fast around here. Lorna told me.” She points to one of the mums in the distance whom I don’t know very well.

  “So, what happened?” I ask, suddenly curious.

  Eva’s voice drops a notch and her face darkens. “A baby is missing from the labour ward of the hospital. It’s already been on Facebook and Twitter. Someone snatched a baby. Can you imagine?”

  I can feel Eva’s eyes on my face, but I’m not listening anymore. A cold, numb fear is spreading like ice in my veins. Like a gravestone being pulled aside, malevolent thoughts rear up inside my brain, casting long, toxic shadows. Shadows that grip me mercilessly when I am weak. Like now.

  “Emma…Emma…are you OK?”

  I become aware that Eva is speaking to me. I snap back into reality, the cold vapours from my mouth suddenly dispelling, clearing the mist from my mind.

  For a second there, I lost myself.

  “Yes. Yes, I’m good,” I try to force a smile on my face, but my best friend can see through it. But she doesn’t know the half of it. She never will either. There are things I will take to my grave with me.

  “You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” Eva is watching me carefully. “Everything alright?”

  I try a non-committal shrug and fail. “It’s just awful news, isn’t it? Don’t expect it to happen around here.”

  “Hmm.” Eva doesn’t look convinced. Molly distracts me, barging into me from behind, giggling wildly.

  “It’s time to go in, Mummy,” she says. I give her a hug and peck on the cheek, and watch her go in with the other children.

  “Shall we go for coffee?” Eva says, swinging her handbag over her shoulder.

  I check my watch. I am an artist, and I sell my paintings on the internet. I have to meet a gallery owner today about an exhibition.

  But for some reason, I am loath to be on my own. The grey sky seems to have settled on my shoulders like a heavy but invisible weight. Finge
rs are reaching inside my eyes, poking out old, bitter memories. I am afraid, and I look around myself at the sea of faces in the schoolyard, spilling out into the road. Mostly mothers, talking to each other, dispersing back to their homes. No one threatening, but I feel lonely and lost in this crowd. I scan the faces, my eyes jerking around, looking for…what?

  I don’t know. But I don’t want to be alone.

  Powerful Range Rovers and flashy four by fours are being fired up, the engine sounds erupting like gunshots inside my skull. Quickly, I turn to Eva. She is looking at me with a puzzled expression again, and I know I am acting weird.

  “Yes, sure,” I say. “Let’s go for coffee.”

  CHAPTER 3

  I sit in Starbucks, and curl my fingers around the tall cup of mocha. I insisted we sit upstairs, where it is quieter, and more importantly, I can keep an eye on who is coming up the stairs. There is a bathroom here, and I can hide there if need be. I stop myself. Why am I being like this? Panicked, fingers shaking…I take a deep breath and calm myself.

  Eva takes her phone out from her Michael Kors handbag, and puts it on the table. Then she takes a sip of her cappuccino and gazes at me.

  “What’s going on?”

  “Nothing.”

  She sighs. “Come on, spill.”

  Eva has known me since we were sixteen. We became friends at senior school, and did our A levels together. Although we went to different universities, we got jobs at the same place in the city, and have been in touch ever since.

  Looking at Eva now, I remember the abstract landscape I gave her for her birthday last year, and smile.

  “I’m OK, don’t worry. Just got shocked hearing that awful news, that’s all.” I am glad that Eva is here, and I can lean on her for company. The mocha feels hot and nourishing as it slides down my throat.

  “How are you?” I change the topic.

  “Great. Simon’s got a promotion. He’s over the moon. It just means longer hours for him.” She sighs.

  Eva is married to Simon. Like many of the men here, he works in the city as well. One of those faceless, dark-suited men who rush around Canary Wharf looking stressed.

  I smile, genuinely happy for her. “That’s good news, right? Not the long working hours bit, but I guess he doesn’t have a choice in it, does he?”

  Eva shakes her head. “Nope. He loves it as well. But he comes back early on Friday, and in the weekends he’s always there.”

  I nod. I have seen Simon doing Friday evening pick-up. I force myself to smile blandly at him. He always stops and tries to make conversation, I am pleasant to him for Eva’s sake.

  We spend some time talking about the children. But my mind is still on the baby-snatching incident at the hospital.

  “Do we know who the mother was?” I ask, keeping my voice casual.

  “Yes, a woman called Suzy Elliot. Her elder daughter is in Year 3 so you might not know her. Name’s Lisa.”

  I think for a while but the name doesn’t ring a bell.

  Eva says, “Hospitals have CCTV everywhere. Surely they will catch the person, won’t they?”

  “Yes, of course,” I say, draining the rest of my coffee. I wonder how Eva will respond to my next question, but I don’t know if I don’t try. I am thinking about Suzy, and every time I do, a sense of anguish cloaks my heart.

  “Shall we go and see Suzy Elliot?”

  Eva looks surprised, then her expression softens. “Not sure if she’s still in hospital.”

  “Any sign of the baby yet?”

  Eva shakes her head. “Not that I have heard.”

  I nod. I haven’t seen anything in the news or on TV, and I know Eva knows all of the mums in our year at school.

  She looks curiously at me. “Why do you want to see her?”

  I hide my real reason. “It’s a tragedy, isn’t it? She needs all the support she can get. I mean, if she doesn’t want to see anyone I can understand. But we should try and say hello. The police are involved, aren’t they?”

  “Yes. I don’t know the latest from them. But I guess they’re in touch with her.”

  I ring the hospital and find out that she has been discharged. I ask Eva, “She’s gone home, so do you reckon we can ring her?”

  Eva shrugs. “Can’t see why not. I know her so let me try.”

  “Only if you think we wouldn’t be intruding. I can imagine that she wants to be left alone.”

  “True. But on the other hand, think how lonely she must be feeling right now. Some company would do her good, especially if her husband’s at work.”

  I nod in agreement. Eva rings her. She talks for a while, and I settle the bill.

  Eva hangs up and says, “Her husband’s not at home. Poor thing, she sounds so flat. Yes, we can go around this afternoon, before pick-up.”

  *****

  Suzy Elliot lives in a terraced house similar to mine. Two up and two down, in a street of terraced houses, opposite the railway station. The houses are pleasant, several have ivy creeper growing over the front walls. Both of us have driven as we have to go to school after this. I have bought a bouquet of flowers and a card which I carry as Eva knocks on the door. After what seems like a long wait a pale-faced woman opens the door. I don’t recognise her. Eva gives her a hug, and she looks me up and down. She is in her early thirties, I guess, with shoulder-length, brown hair. She looks haggard, and her eyes are red-rimmed, sunk in the hollows. I cannot imagine what she is going through.

  I go to shake her hand, then end up giving her a hug. She doesn’t mind, and I can feel how frail she is. Tears glisten in her eyes as she tries to smile at me, and shuts the door. We walk down the narrow hallway into the living room on the right.

  Shafts of light illuminate the darkly carpeted room. There are some photos on the mantelpiece, of Suzy and her husband with their elder daughter, Lisa. Suzy sits down on the sofa, ignoring the curtains that partially cover the bay windows. She has put the flowers I bought for her in the kitchen.

  “Shall I open the curtains?” I ask. Suzy looks at me and nods. I reach across an armchair and tug on the heavy drapes. More light spills into the room, brightening the drab atmosphere.

  Eva asks, “Any news from the police?”

  Suzy shakes her head. “They are still going through all the CCTV images. From the hospital and the surrounding streets. Also knocking on doors and asking people. So far, nothing.”

  I ask, “Did the police question you and your husband?”

  “Paul, yes.” Her eyes darkened. “They can be very intrusive. They spoke to our friends, parents, digging deep. Almost as if it was us who stole our child.”

  Gently, I said, “Just let them do their job. Anything to get her back, right?”

  Suzy nodded. I ask her, “What was baby’s name?”

  The faint trace of a ghostlike smile appears briefly on Suzy’s face, then disappears. “It’s a baby girl. Her name’s Margaret.”

  Suzy stares at me directly. “Who would do such a thing?”

  I feel her pain. “You have to be strong, Suzy. We will find her. Have you got anyone to help you with Lisa?”

  She sniffs. “My mum is coming down for a few days.”

  “I can help with the school travels,” I say. I know who Lisa is now. Molly’s year is divided into two classes, and Lisa is in the other class.

  Suzy nods. “That would be great, thank you.”

  “How did it happen, Suzy?” I can’t help asking. I know she has been through this with the police already, maybe several times. Eva shoots me a glance, but Suzy doesn’t seem to mind.

  “After she was born, they gave her to me briefly, then put her in the warm cot next to me. She cried a lot later that day.” A terrible, dark shadow flits across her face, and my heart aches for her.

  “She wouldn’t latch on easily. The midwives were really good, they helped a lot. By evening time, she was feeding, and it was a great feeling.” Suzy looks down at her hands. Eva reaches out for her, but she moves away. “Don’t t
ouch me.”

  We sit there, very still, dust motes jostling for space in the shafts of watery sunlight. Suzy speaks without lifting her head up. “Paul stayed with us the whole time, and went home to sleep at night. He was knackered, same as me. She woke up three times at night, maybe more. I can’t remember. But when I woke up in the morning…” She paused again.

  “You don’t have to say it,” I say.

  Suzy stares ahead like she didn’t hear me. I wonder if in a strange way, talking about it helps.

  “…the cot next to me was empty. I pressed the buzzer for the midwife immediately. They didn’t know where she could be. The alarm was raised, and that was it.”

  Her eyes are fractured, broken. There are some people who wear grief like a shroud. It settles on them, covering their souls, dimming the light in their eyes. Suzy wears that iron cloak on her slight body. It is impossible not to look at her and feel unbearably sad myself.

  “I just want her back,” she says suddenly. “Whoever did this will be forgiven. You know?”

  She looks at us, her face briefly animated. It seems like a strange comment to make, but in her state, maybe it is to be expected.

  We leave after a while, promising to come back. I drive to school in a daze, Suzy’s lifeless eyes, her sunken cheeks haunting my mind.

  After I have parked, and about to get out of the car, my phone beeps. I have received an email, from an undisclosed sender. I frown. I open it and there’s no message in the body of the email, only a PDF attachment. I click on it, perplexed. When the document becomes visible, my breath quickens, and a hollow feeling spreads across my stomach, slowly claiming my heart. The panicked feeling is back.

  It’s a birth certificate. With my daughter’s name on it.

  CHAPTER 4

  I have no idea how to find out who sent it. I look at the document carefully. It’s a scanned image of the birth certificate. It says Molly Dixon on it, with her date of birth.

  I wonder if Jeremy has found it in his emails and is forwarding it to me. But I have never sent him Molly’s birth certificate. There has never been a need. He has always accepted Molly as my daughter, and that has been that.