On the train Jody, worn out by the crying and soothed by the motion, fell asleep. Laura leaned her head against the window and closed her eyes. She was knackered. It was going to be a long trip. Three hours on the boat to Holyhead in Wales, then a four-hour train journey to London. But she knew it’d be worth it. She hoped Jody wouldn’t be a pain the whole time. She didn’t want her screeching or whining on the boat and train. She wanted to chill out, not deal with a screaming child.
She wanted to have the best weekend ever. She had butterflies in her tummy. This was it. This was her moment with Danny. She knew they’d get together this weekend. She just had to get Jody out of the way so she could concentrate on Danny. Chloë had better have found a babysitter.
Laura pushed the buggy up the ramp on to the boat. It was packed with families heading off on their summer holidays. Kids were running wild everywhere, shouting their heads off. Laura wanted to get away from them. She didn’t want Jody to wake up. She was enjoying the time out. She looked around and saw a bar to her left. She peered through the glass doors. That’s exactly where I want to be, she thought. I need a vodka to calm my nerves and kick off the weekend. She went in, parked the buggy with the still sleeping Jody in the corner, and sat up on a bar stool.
‘What can I get you?’ the barman asked.
Laura looked at her watch. It was five past eleven and they had just set sail. A bit early, but what the hell? She wanted a drink to celebrate her freedom. ‘Vodka and Coke,’ she said.
‘You’re starting early.’ The barman grinned.
‘I need it to wake me up. I’ve been up all night with her.’ Laura waved over to the sleeping Jody.
‘I’ll make it a large one so.’ He handed her the drink. ‘Get that into you.’
She knocked it back. Because she hadn’t had time to eat any breakfast, the vodka had an immediate effect. It felt fantastic. The tension in her shoulders and back eased; she felt lighter, less burdened. ‘I think I’ll have to have another of those large ones.’
‘How old is your daughter?’ the barman asked.
‘Nineteen months.’
‘Is there a dad in the picture?’
‘Nope.’
‘He left you?’
‘You could say that.’ Laura took a large sip of her second vodka.
‘Must have been blind to leave a gorgeous girl like you.’
‘Do you really think I’m gorgeous?’
The barman leaned over the bar and whispered, ‘You’re a knock-out. You’d never think you had a kid. You look too young.’
‘Thanks.’ Laura lapped up the attention. This was definitely a blue day.
‘You’re welcome. Credit where credit’s due. What do you do?’
‘I’m in college.’
‘Smart and beautiful, the whole package.’ He winked.
Laura giggled and finished her drink. ‘God, these are going down so well. I’ll have one more.’
‘Coming right up.’
As the barman was pouring Laura’s third drink, Jody woke up and began to thrash about in her buggy. Laura climbed down from her stool and went over to unstrap her.
‘Baba … baba …’ Jody said.
Shit. Laura had forgotten to bring her bloody bottle. ‘I don’t have your baba. Here, have some Coke.’ She handed Jody the bottle of Coke she was using as a mixer. There was about a third left.
Jody sniffed it cautiously, the way children always do when faced with something new. She took a sip, crinkled her nose, then smiled.
‘Yummy Coke,’ Laura said.
Jody drank the rest. ‘Mo baba?’ she asked, waving the empty bottle.
‘Oh, for God’s sake. Hold on.’ Laura asked the barman for a bottle of Coke, a straw and a packet of crisps.
Laura sat Jody up at a table in the corner of the bar, handed her the Coke and opened the crisps for her. ‘There now, eat up and be quiet,’ she said. She turned back to her stool, climbed on and began to drink her vodka.
As she did so, a small woman in a brown dress entered the bar and sat in the opposite corner with a book. The barman went over to ask her if she’d like a drink. She ordered some sparkling water.
What a bore, Laura thought, as she gulped her vodka.
11.
Anna
The ferry …
Anna sipped her sparkling water and tried to concentrate on her book, but it was hopeless. The girl at the bar was talking at the top of her voice. She glanced back to the lobby, but it was mayhem out there. Children were running wild, couples were arguing and the place was packed to the brim with bags and picnic lunches and people rushing outside to be sick.
The bar was the only quiet place on the boat. It was too early for most people to drink. A small group of men were sitting in one corner, staring at a replay of some football game and then there was the girl with the loud voice.
‘I’m going to London to see Paul Oakenfold play,’ she announced.
‘He’s amazing.’ The barman seemed impressed.
‘I can’t wait.’ Although she was clearly already drunk, she ordered another vodka.
As the girl continued to flirt with the barman, a tiny child with blonde curls waddled over and tugged at her dress. Anna hadn’t noticed her until she’d stood up.
‘What?’ the loud girl snapped.
‘Baba,’ the child said.
‘I told you I don’t have it. I gave you a bottle of Coke instead and some crisps. Look, you haven’t even finished them. Go back and sit down and be quiet.’
The little girl’s head drooped. She shuffled back to her corner where she scrambled back up on to the couch and continued eating her crisps. She looked so small and forlorn, about eighteen months old, the same age as Hope would have been if … Anna could feel the blood rushing to her head. She forced herself to look away. It’s not your problem. Ignore it, she scolded herself, and stuck her nose firmly back into her book.
‘I’m pissed,’ the girl announced, slamming the empty glass down on the bar counter. ‘How many have I had?’
‘Five,’ the barman told her.
‘How long more to go?’
He looked at his watch. ‘Well over an hour.’
‘So I definitely have time for another,’ she slurred.
The barman poured her another drink. ‘There you go. Will you be all right while I nip down and change a keg?’
She waved her glass and gave him a lopsided smile. ‘I’ll manage on this until you get back.’
The child came over again. ‘Baba … baba.’
‘God, Jody, give it a rest. I don’t have a bottle.’
The child blinked. ‘Baba, peese.’
Her mother swivelled around in her chair and put her face close to the child’s. ‘Look at me. I … do … not … have … a … bottle. OK? I’m sorry, I forgot it, probably because I got no sleep last night. Now, go and play with these.’ She handed her a pile of coasters. The child went back to the table and began to play with them.
‘Jesus, I hope she’s not like this all bloody weekend,’ muttered the drunk. ‘If it wasn’t for her, my life would be great.’
Anna could feel her chest tightening. How could this woman be allowed have a child? She was clearly a terrible mother – drunk, neglectful and horrible to her daughter. Anna had seen so many drunks like this over the years in her school and their children were scarred for life.
The little girl was quickly bored with the coasters and waddled back to her mother, who was polishing off her drink. ‘Baba, peese.’
‘Jesus Christ, child, for the millionth time I don’t have it!’
The little girl’s lip wobbled and then she began to bawl.
The mother shook her finger at her. ‘I’m too tired for this. Don’t start whining. If you do, I’ll take blanky away.’
The child clutched her blanket.
‘Go on over there and be good.’
‘Baba,’ the little girl whimpered.
Anna tried to read her book. She tried looking
away. She tried distracting herself … But she couldn’t. She had to do something. She just couldn’t let it go. She got to her feet and walked over to the drunk mother. ‘Hi, sorry to interrupt you. I was just sitting over there and I heard your little girl crying for a bottle. I was just going to pop into the café to get a sandwich, so why don’t I see if I can find a bottle or a beaker of some sort for her? She seems thirsty.’
‘She’s just had a full bottle of Coke,’ the mother slurred.
‘Baba … BABA!’ the child screeched.
‘Maybe some milk would calm her down,’ Anna suggested.
The mother shrugged her tanned shoulders. ‘Fine, take her with you. You’re welcome to her.’ Turning to the child, she said, ‘Jody, go and get some milk with this nice lady and be good, no moaning.’
Anna held out her hand and Jody took it. ‘Come on, sweetheart, let’s go and find you some milk.’
Jody smiled. ‘Ye … ye … baba.’
Anna left her book on the table and picked up her handbag. She took Jody into the café and asked if they had any bottles or beakers. They didn’t, but they gave her a little carton of milk with a straw.
The two sat up at a table in the corner of the busy café. ‘There you go, pet.’ Anna handed the milk to Jody. ‘Drink that up. It’ll make you feel better.’
‘Ank oo.’
‘You’re very welcome.’ Anna smiled at the little girl. She looked like one of those cherubic angels you saw on Christmas cards, all blonde curls, big blue eyes and chubby cheeks.
Jody beamed and drank the milk quickly.
‘Slowly, pet, or you’ll get a sore tummy,’ Anna warned her.
Jody put the carton down, frowned – and was sick everywhere. The lady at the next table jumped up. Anna apologized.
‘Don’t worry, these things happen,’ the lady said. ‘I raised five children myself and I’ve ten grandchildren, I’m well used to it.’
‘Thanks,’ Anna said, as she wiped Jody’s dress.
‘She’s a beautiful little girl.’
‘Yes, she is,’ Anna agreed.
‘They’re a blessing,’ the woman said.
‘Yes, they are.’
‘You must be delighted with her,’ the woman added.
‘Oh, she’s not –’ Before Anna could finish, Jody threw up again. ‘I’d better take her out and change her.’ Anna hurried out of the café and carried Jody back into the bar, where her mother was still drinking.
‘I’m afraid she’s been sick,’ Anna informed her.
The mother could barely focus, she was so drunk. ‘Bloody brilliant. Well done, Jody, that’s all I need.’
‘It’s all right. Give me a change of clothes and I’ll sort her out.’ Anna willed herself not to be rude. She was furious with this pathetic excuse for a mother. How dare she treat her child so badly? She had no right to be so neglectful. It didn’t matter that she was young: if you had a child you had a duty to take care of it, not ignore it and treat it like some kind of nuisance in your life.
The mother pointed to a bag in the corner. ‘Her stuff’s in there.’
Anna picked up the knapsack and took Jody into the Ladies to change her. She took off her red dress and replaced it with a green T-shirt and denim shorts. Then Anna wet her hairbrush, brushed the vomit out of Jody’s hair and pushed it back with a hairband she found at the bottom of the bag. ‘Now, pet, you’re all clean.’
‘All keen,’ Jody repeated.
Anna looked at the little girl’s pale face and bent down to kiss her. Jody put her arms around Anna’s neck and snuggled into her shoulder. Anna felt something shift inside her. The feel of the child’s hug reminded her of holding Hope. It was as if her heart had begun to beat again, slowly but steadily.
She carried Jody out and sat down on a chair outside the bar that had been vacated by someone running to be sick over the rail. Jody could see her mother through the glass doors of the bar. Anna saw her flirting animatedly with the barman. She was swaying on her stool.
Jody cuddled into Anna and laid her head on Anna’s chest. Anna took Jody’s sandals off and began to play ‘This Little Piggy Went to Market’ with Jody’s toes. Jody squealed with delight. They played ‘Round and Round the Garden’ and Jody giggled uncontrollably when Anna tickled her neck. Anna sang songs to her – Jody knew ‘Twinkle, Twinkle’ and sang along as best she could.
Anna was singing ‘Baa Baa Black Sheep’ when it happened. Through the door of the bar, she saw Jody’s mother slump down on the counter and pass out. The barman looked at the girl in alarm. She watched as he shook her arm gently and then a bit more urgently. It was useless: the girl was out cold.
A voice announced that they were docking in twenty minutes and asked all drivers to go to their cars. Anna looked at Jody. The little girl’s blue eyes stared back into hers. Anna’s heart began to pound. I can’t do it, she thought. I can’t let another child’s life be ruined by a useless drunk for a mother. She’ll end up on the streets or in prison or drinking like her mother. I’ve seen hundreds of children’s lives destroyed and shattered. I’ve seen it happen so many times. I was only ever able to help those children for a year while they were in my class, but this time … this time I can do something. I can help this child. I can save this child. I can give her a wonderful life. I can be a good mother. I know I can love this child and cherish her. That drunk in there will destroy her. I can do it, I can do it … I have to do it.
Anna stopped thinking and went with her primal instinct. She picked Jody up, and as she was walking towards her car, she dropped Jody’s red sandals discreetly over the side of the boat. Jody nuzzled into her neck and sighed contentedly.
Anna walked to her car and didn’t look back.
PART 2
Now
12.
Sophie
London, June 2011
Holly jumped up, pointed to the TV, and stuttered, ‘But – but, Sophie, the artist! She’s the image of you! She is you!’
Sophie was frozen to the spot. She stared at the television, at the woman who looked so like her. What the hell? Who was she? While her brain did somersaults, the interview ended and the artist was gone.
Holly was pacing up and down beside her. ‘OK, what does this mean? Let’s not freak out. We need to analyse it calmly.’
Sophie looked at her best friend and opened her mouth but no sound came out. Her mind was in overdrive. It was too weird, completely freaky. All she could see was red, bright, piercing red – her colour for panic. Her head throbbed.
Holly sat down and grabbed her hand. ‘Oh, my God, Sophie, she looked so like you and she sees colours like you do.’ She chewed her lip. ‘She must be, like, an aunt or something. Maybe your mum fell out with her and they haven’t spoken for years and that’s why she looks like you and has your weird colour thing.’
She could be right, Sophie thought.
‘Hang on, what about the baby thing? Her disappearance,’ Holly mused.
Sophie found her voice: ‘Maybe that’s why my mum never talked about this aunt because she thought she was a bit mad, thinking her kid was still alive when she’d drowned.’
‘That must be it. You always said your mum’s incredibly secretive about her past and Ireland and all that.’
‘And about who my dad is.’
Holly jumped up again. ‘I’ve got it! She must be your dad’s sister, which would explain why you look nothing like your mum and obviously are the image of your dad. And maybe your mum had a fight with her when your dad buggered off and that’s why she took you to come and live in London and cut all ties with this Laura person.’
‘Damn, no, it can’t be that. Mum said my dad was American.’ Sophie could feel panic rising in her throat. Something about this artist felt … real … She felt connected to her. She shook her head vigorously to stop the doubts creeping into her mind.
‘Well, maybe Laura is actually American but lives in Ireland.’
‘She has an Irish accent,’ Sophie poi
nted out. ‘She didn’t sound American at all.’
‘Maybe she’s lived in Ireland for so long that her accent has changed.’
It was all too confusing. ‘But Mum said she didn’t know my dad’s second name. That they’d had a brief fling and then he went back to America. If she knew his sister, she’d be able to find him.’
Holly pushed her hair out of her face. ‘Perhaps she lied because she didn’t want to find him.’
‘She couldn’t do that to me. I don’t believe she’d lie to me about not knowing who my dad is if she did know.’
‘OK, let’s just stick to the facts. This woman is the spitting image of you.’
‘And she has synaesthesia,’ Sophie added.
‘Which is rare, right?’
She nodded.
‘So you have to be related somehow. It’s too much of a coincidence. Could she be your mum’s cousin or something?’
Sophie shook her head. ‘Mum always said she had no family left. She was an only child and both of her parents were, too.’
‘That’s a lot of only children. I thought people in Ireland had loads of kids.’
‘It does seem strange.’ Sophie began to feel really queasy. In the back of her mind a terrible thought was forming. ‘What about Laura’s missing baby?’
‘I think Laura just didn’t want to believe the baby drowned,’ Holly said. ‘Maybe she felt guilty for not watching her more carefully. Most women would go a bit bonkers if their child died. You’d wish for it not to be true.’
Sophie tugged at her T-shirt. ‘But that’s just it. Laura didn’t seem mad to me. She seemed perfectly sane. What if the baby didn’t drown? After all, they never found a body.’
‘Well, that’s just really sad. You don’t think –’ Holly’s face reddened. ‘You’re not suggesting …’
The words tumbled out of Sophie’s mouth: ‘My mum has no baby photos of me. She told me everything got burned in a fire.’
‘Fires happen all the time, Sophie.’ Holly’s voice sounded shrill.
‘Isn’t it all a bit coincidental?’ Sophie stared at her friend. Holly was looking away, avoiding her gaze.
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