by Alex Lake
But it didn’t matter. All that mattered was that Anna was here. ‘Is she ok?’
‘Fine, physically. The police said … ’, he paused, and nodded at Anna,. ‘can we talk about this later? It’s better, I think.’
‘Ok.’
‘You should come downstairs. DI Wynne is on her way. You need to get dressed.’
Anna rolled away from Brian. ‘Can I stay up here with you, Mummy?’
‘Of course.’ Julia put her hands out and folded them around Anna. She was so warm, so present, so alive. Julia had not expected this, had not believed that she would ever see her daughter again. She had accepted that Anna was gone, taking with her the only thing that gave Julia’s life meaning and purpose. Julia had faced what that meant, had stared at a life lived without her daughter and with the knowledge that she was to blame for her loss and decided that it was not a life she could live.
She felt goosebumps prickle on her arms. She hugged Anna tighter, grateful for the throbbing in her temples and the pain at the back of her eyes. It meant she was alive; here to welcome her daughter back to her home.
But, despite her joy, a thought nagged at her.
Someone, for some reason, had abducted her daughter. They had taken the risk of whisking her away in broad daylight, had found a way to keep her hidden during a national – an international – hunt, only to return her a week later.
It was a huge risk; if they were caught then the implications for them were obvious. If they had had killed her or sold her on then Julia could understand why they had done it – they presumably got whatever pleasure they got from killing, or they got paid, and then they disposed of the body. As long as the police had no leads then they were safe. The motive was also obvious: a random poaching of an unwatched child. It was an old story, well understood.
But that was not what had happened. Whoever had done this had taken all that risk, and then they had taken some more: they had returned Anna. Why? What did they gain? It didn’t make sense. There was something missing, something Julia did not understand.
And it worried her. What if it was not random after all? What if they had selected Anna – specifically Anna – for some reason?
Anna wriggled against Julia. Julia squeezed her hard against her chest.
‘Mummy,’ Anna said. ‘You’re squashing me.’
‘Sorry,’ Julia said. ‘But I just don’t ever want to let you go.’
And she didn’t, because if they had selected Anna, if there was some reason for this, then it might not be over.
And whoever had done this was still out there, with whatever reason they had done it for still known only to them.
And they might be watching right now, planning their next move.
iv.
‘Mrs Crowne,’ DI Wynne said. ‘What fabulous news. I’m so pleased for you.’
Wynne’s smile was the first truly genuine expression Julia had seen on her face. She was always the same: steady, professional, measured. Bland, almost. So bland that it had to be an act. No one without passion could do her job, but no one who could not control their passion would be able to stick at it. If you let yourself get too involved, it would devour you, Julia could see that.
And the smile: relaxed, relieved, full, was proof that DI Wynne was human after all.
‘Thank you,’ Julia said. ‘For all you did.’
She, Brian, and DI Wynne were sitting in the living room. Julia’s hair was wet from the shower; she felt cleaner, but her headache was still sharp, despite taking two doses of ibuprofen. Still, it didn’t matter. The world had taken on a soft glow. Anna was sleeping, her head on Julia’s lap.
DI Wynne shrugged. ‘I wish I could say that we’d done more, but this was really not down to us. She just … well, she just showed up.’
Brian had filled her in on what she had missed. Despite the magnitude of the events, there really wasn’t all that much: the police received a call around nine a.m. from a newsagent in the Cheshire village of Tarporley to say that a girl calling herself Anna Crowne had walked into the shop, declared she was hungry, and asked for her mummy. The shopkeeper gave her water and a Crunchie bar, then called the police. By nine fifteen Anna was in the hands of the local police; by ten a.m. she was at the police station with DI Wynne and Brian. Her mum was passed out at home, but nobody needed to know about that.
Anna was fine, Brian said. Lost some weight, but unharmed and quite cheerful. She was very interested in the police station and asked to see the cells; a woman police officer took her down there. When she came back she was eating a choc ice from the canteen. She declared to Brian, DI Wynne, and the doctor who had showed up that she was going to be a policeman when she grew up.
Or a policewoman, DI Wynne said.
No, Anna said. A policeman.
I’m afraid it might be my fault, the woman police officer said. I told her that I didn’t eat many choc ices but that the male officers ate them all the time.
So Anna was fine, except for one thing: she had no memory of what had happened to her. She had no idea who had taken her or where she had been. All she remembered was waking up in the bus shelter and then walking across a field to the buildings she could see, because she was cold and wanted to get warm. DI Wynne pressed gently, asking whether the person was a man or a woman, tall or short, had a nice voice or a nasty voice, but there was nothing. She didn’t have any memory of the events at all.
Julia asked how that was possible.
‘She was probably given some kind of memory inhibiting drug,’ DI Wynne said. ‘There are plenty about.’
Julia wondered, briefly, – before she forced the thought from her mind, although she knew it would intrude again, late at night or first thing in the morning – what had been done to Anna that was so bad it needed to be erased from her memory. She could think of a few things, and none of them were anything other than awful.
‘A child psychologist will have to see her’, DI Wynne told Brian, ‘but there don’t seem to be any signs of emotional trauma.’
There were also no signs of sexual abuse. It didn’t mean there hadn’t been something, but if there had it was not violent or invasive and it had left no trace. Julia found this both reassuring, and disturbing. She didn’t want there to be signs of sexual abuse, but she also wanted to know for sure that there hadn’t been any. The thought that someone might have abused her daughter so cleverly that they left no evidence of having done so was cold comfort.
‘So you don’t know who took her?’ Julia said. ‘Was there anything on her clothes? Fibres? DNA?’
DI Wynne shook her head. ‘Nothing. Someone did a very thorough job of removing all traces of themselves. Her clothes had been washed. My guess is that whoever did this handled them with gloves from the moment they took them from the washing machine. Then they put them on Anna before leaving her in the bus shelter this morning.’
Julia nodded. ‘So you have nothing?’
Wynne sipped her tea. ‘Very little.’
‘And will you keep the investigation open?’ Brian asked.
‘We will,’ Wynne said. She glanced up at the ceiling; it was an odd, evasive gesture. She looked back at Julia. ‘We are still interested in finding the person who did this.’
‘In case they do it again?’ Julia said.
‘That,’ Wynne said. ‘And also … well, this is a bit of a confusing situation. I’ve never come across something quite like this. I’d be happier if we had the perpetrator behind bars.’
‘Right,’ Brian said. ‘The child rarely shows up. If they do it’s often years later.’
He was an expert now, Julia thought. It was an unpleasant thing to have needed to become an expert in, but at least now it was just knowledge, and not his own experience.
‘Exactly,’ Wynne said. ‘But to just return the child, unharmed, well, it’s unheard of.’
‘Perhaps they felt sorry for us,’ Julia said. ‘Maybe they saw our press conference.’
‘It’s possible,’ Wynne s
aid, although it was clear she didn’t think that was the case. ‘But we don’t know for sure. We don’t know much. Why they would do this, for example. Why they would take such a risk, when there’s nothing in it for them.’
‘So you think there is more to this?’ she said. ‘You think there is more to come? Are we at risk?’
Even if this was over, she thought, she would never know. She would have to live for the rest of her life with the fear that it might happen again.
‘It can’t have been for no reason,’ DI Wynne said. ‘That’s what worries me.’
‘But what would the reason be?’ Julia said. ‘It doesn’t make sense. Maybe it’s – I dunno – like a game to them. Maybe they want to create the hardest possible conditions in which to kidnap a child – I mean, we’ll watch her like a hawk – and then prove they can do it.’
The sense of powerlessness was overwhelming. How could she protect her child against some unknown, unquantified, unguessable threat? If, at that moment, DI Wynne had offered her a new identity in Australia she would have taken it without a moment of hesitation. She just wanted to get away, to be able to raise her daughter in safety. It wasn’t too much to ask, was it?
‘We’ll put a squad car outside your house,’ Wynne said. ‘At least until we have more certainty about what is going on.’
Julia nodded, partially – for the moment, at least – reassured. ‘And the press,’ she said. ‘Are they still out there?’
‘No. We moved them on. You need your privacy at a time like this. I can’t say they won’t be back eventually, but hopefully all this will have died down a bit by then. There’ll be another story for them to sink their teeth into.’
‘Some other poor bugger’s life to ruin,’ Brian said. ‘Bunch of bastards, the lot of them.’
On her lap, Anna stirred. Julia looked down at her daughter’s face, her mouth slightly parted, her eyeballs twitching as she dreamed.
What are you dreaming about? she thought. Are you seeing whoever did this? Are they in your mind at this moment, right there in front of me but totally inaccessible?
She looked up at DI Wynne. ‘So what’s next?’ she said.
‘Well,’ Wynne replied. ‘We’ll be carrying on with the investigation. I’d like you to monitor Anna closely, see if she says anything that might give us an indication of where she’s been. The memory is a strange animal. It can throw things up at the least likely moment.’ She looked at Brian. ‘And if you hear from your father, we’d be interested to speak to him. But other than that, try and keep things as normal as possible.’
Brian started to get to his feet. DI Wynne motioned him to stay seated.
‘I’ll see myself out,’ she said. ‘You stay there.’ She walked towards the door. When she reached it she turned around. ‘And Mr and Mrs Crowne? I want to let you know how happy I am for you that your family is back together. Have a good night.’
v.
The front door clicked shut and the house was silent. It seemed to Julia that it was the first time in a week that the house had been truly quiet: yes, there had been plenty of moments when there was no sound, but the lack of sound had almost been a noise; a reminder of Anna’s absence. And, in any case, whether there was noise or not had made no difference to the clamour inside Julia’s skull. Her mind had whirred, cogs flicking her thoughts from memories of Anna to wretched fears about where she might be to lacerating feelings of guilt.
Now, though, with her daughter’s head in her lap, there was peace in the silence.
‘Are you going to take her up to bed?’ Brian asked.
‘I suppose I should,’ Julia said. She looked again at Anna’s sleeping face and fell in love all over again with her daughter. ‘But I can’t bring myself to let her go.’
‘I know. I can’t believe she’s back. I didn’t think – I mean, I hoped, but I just didn’t dare think she’d – you know. Come home.’
‘I know,’ Julia said, aware of the exact feeling he was trying to describe – a mixture of disbelief and wonder with the feeling you get when you realize that you nearly ran into a car or made some huge mistake but just missed it, the feeling of being simply lucky – but equally unable to put it into words.
There was a long pause. It grew heavy and pregnant.
‘We need to talk,’ Brian said.
‘About us?’
‘About us. But also about you.’
‘What about me?’
‘I found you passed out on the couch, Julia, surrounded by sleeping pills and vodka. I’m worried.’
‘Don’t worry about me. I’m fine.’ A bit embarrassed, Julia thought, but fine.
‘You tried to kill yourself,’ Brian said. ‘I’d hardly call that fine.’
Julia shook her head. ‘No,’ she said. ‘No. That’s not what happened. It wasn’t … I didn’t try to kill myself. I just wanted some sleep. A break.’
Brian did not look convinced. Julia felt indignation swell in her throat.
‘Brian! I didn’t try to kill myself! I can’t believe you think that!’
‘If you say so,’ he said. ‘But it looked a lot like that.’
‘If I’d tried to kill myself I would have done it,’ Julia said. ‘I would have taken more than two sleeping pills. I would have taken them all.’ She shook her head. ‘This is ridiculous. The worst thing is that I thought about it, but there was no way I could have done it. Not while there was a chance Anna was still alive. And she is, Brian. That’s what we should be talking about, not some imagined suicide attempt.’
Brian nodded. ‘Ok,’ he said. ‘It’s your business. I have something else I want to say.’
‘Go ahead,’ Julia said. ‘Get it off your chest.’
‘We need to make arrangements. For the separation.’
‘Do we have to do this now?’ Julia said. ‘Can’t it wait?’
‘No,’ Brian said. ‘Now’s best.’
‘Ok.’ Julia kept her eyes on Anna’s face. Nothing could bother her while she had her daughter in her arms. ‘What are you thinking?’
‘That I would leave. Go to Mum’s, maybe. We’d sell the house. Split the proceeds. Or you could buy me out with your share of our money and stay here.’
Julia was ready to accept that Brian and her were over. She wanted her and Brian to be over, but this was not the time. They did not need the disruption of a messy divorce hot on the heels of Anna’s disappearance and miraculous return.
‘Look,’ she said. ‘I know things aren’t great between us, but couldn’t we put this off? I think Anna’s going to need us both. She’s going to need the stability of a familiar home and both her parents.’
‘Our relationship is over, Julia. After what … ’ he paused, uncertain about whether to carry on, then gave a little shrug, as though reconciled that whatever he was going to say needed to be said, and carried on, ‘what you did, there’s no hope of it working between us. You told me you wanted a divorce; that the life I offered wasn’t enough for you, and then you didn’t bother showing up for Anna. The fact that it turned out ok in the end doesn’t justify it, and I don’t forgive you. For either thing.’
‘I get it,’ Julia said. ‘And I don’t expect us to stay together forever. I just think we could hold on before we tear everything apart. We can sleep in separate rooms. It might be miserable for us, but at least Anna will have stability. I mean, it’s not perfect, but we’ll hardly be the only couple with a shitty relationship who stay together for the sake of their children.’
Brian hesitated. ‘How long for?’ he said.
‘I don’t know. Six months. A year, maybe. Whatever it takes until it feels like it’s the right time to do it. And don’t worry. You can see other people, do whatever you want. I don’t care. I just want to protect Anna.’
He reddened. ‘That’s not what I want,’ he said. ‘This is not about seeing other people.’ He shook his head. ‘It’s so typical of you to think that it is. You always find a way to see me in the worst light. I just thought it w
as for the best.’
‘I’m sorry.’ She realized she was about to manipulate him, but didn’t care. ‘If you want to do what’s for the best, then stay, for a while at least. That’s all I’m asking. Do it for Anna.’
‘Fine, I’ll do it. I’ll stay.’ He sat upright, his shoulders squaring in an attempt to keep his pride. ‘But I’m only doing it for her. Not for any other reason. Not for you.’
Julia sighed. ‘Good,’ she said. ‘Thank you.’ She cinched Anna tighter to her, then levered herself to her feet. ‘I think I will put Anna in bed. She can sleep with me tonight. See you in the morning.’
She left him downstairs, the bitterness hanging between them, but she didn’t care. As long as she had Anna she didn’t care about Brian or her marriage or her career. She didn’t care about anything. As long as she had Anna everything was ok.
vi.
The psychologist was not what Julia had expected. He was in his early fifties, had a pot belly, wore black nail varnish on his left hand, and finished every sentence by slightly tilting his head and saying ‘y’know?’
He sat next to Anna on a faded, sagging couch. On the table in front of him were some children’s books and toys. Julia sat in an armchair, a little off to the side. There had been a suggestion that Anna would go in alone, but Julia had not agreed.
‘So,’ he said to Anna. ‘My name is Robert, but you can call me Rob, Robbie, Mr Robbie, Bob, Monsieur Bob, or, if you really want, Dave.’
Anna giggled. ‘Can I call you Thomas,’ she said. ‘Like the train?’
Robert – Rob, Robbie, Bob – nodded. ‘If you wish. ‘Do you like trains?’
‘A bit.’ Anna paused. ‘But not a lot. Boys like trains.’
‘Girls too,’ Robert said. ‘Girls like trains too, y’know.’
‘I know,’ Anna said. ‘But mainly boys do.’
Julia stopped herself jumping into the conversation and explaining that she and Brian had tried to avoid gender stereotyping as much as they could, but, despite their best efforts, Anna had still picked up the idea that girls and boys liked and did different things. It was infuriating to Julia – she was sick of pink fairies and princesses – but there seemed to be little she could do about it.