by Penny Kline
‘Thank you.’ Janet took the tray from Izzy’s hands and started moving towards the dining room.
‘I’ll talk to Kath,’ Izzy promised, ‘find out exactly what’s been going on.’
‘And then? If it’s all out in the open, Harry may feel obliged to move out.’
‘Better to know the truth.’ Izzy wondered if some residual loyalty to Kath remained or she was on Janet’s side. Not that taking sides was going to make any difference.
In the car going back, it was Kath who spoke first.
‘You and Janet,’ she said warily, ‘you were out in the kitchen for ages.’
‘Were we?’ Izzy had no intention of making it easy for Kath.
‘She knows.’ Kath stared through the window at the darkness. ‘She told you. God, what a fool I’ve been. All these weeks I’ve been busting to tell you but how could I? With the three of us working together, think how you’d have felt.’
‘I guess I could have handled it,’ Izzy said sarcastically, imitating Kath’s American accent, ‘but learning about it from Janet … What was I supposed to say?’
‘We’ve always been so careful.’
‘Not careful enough.’ Izzy swerved to avoid a small mammal, a stoat or a weasel, that was making a dash from one side of the road to the other. ‘You were seen in a pub and later standing in the street.’
‘Where?’
‘Pretty stupid, snogging in the street.’
‘We want to live together. It’s a question of waiting for the right time.’
Izzy gave a hollow laugh. ‘It always is. What gets me, Kath, is the way you let me confide in you – about going up to Cheshire to see Dawn’s mother, then visiting Miles’ ex-wife – and all the time you were passing the information to Harry.’
‘No that’s not true, I swear it isn’t. OK, so people sometimes indulge in pillow talk but I knew how important it was to you that no one found out. If what you were accusing me of was right, Harry would never have asked that question about the police being suspicious.’
Izzy shrugged. ‘Once people start lying there’s no end to the tricks they play. At least you could have told me before this evening.’
‘How could I?’ For the first time Kath sounded angry. ‘You’ve always seen Harry as some kind of father figure, someone to go to if you needed advice.’
‘No, I haven’t.’ But even as she spoke Izzy knew there was some truth in what Kath was saying. Harry was almost twenty years older than she was, safe, solidly reliable. How could she have been so naïve?
‘People do have affairs.’ Kath’s voice was silly, like a spoilt child. ‘You could never trust Josh, could you?’
‘Thanks.’
‘No, I wasn’t being horrible. I was thinking of you. You know I was. Only it did occur to me. No, that’s crazy, how could it be?’
‘Now what are you talking about?’
‘The baby. Only Josh could have got some poor girl pregnant, then let her down, and she was getting her own back, leaving the baby with –’
‘People don’t give away their babies that easily.’
‘No. No, of course not. Only if she was desperate enough and Josh had refused to accept it was his and she wasn’t getting any maintenance for it.’
‘By “it”, you mean Cressy. I’ve already thought about this, Kath, confronted Josh with the possibility. I’d know if he was lying.’
But would she? Would she really? When they lived together she had told him about Dawn, let slip little incidents from their childhood. But not the game when they had to think of a name for their baby. Surely she hadn’t told him that.
You’re not listening, Miles. She came here, came to the cottage and had a good nose round. What did she want? I’ve made the situation perfectly clear. Fucking hell, Miles, do I have to do this totally on my own? Anyway, I’ve made a plan. No, don’t look like that. A woman in the village stared at me. Listen, you cretin. Oh, I’m sorry, my darling, take no notice. I’m just a grumpy old … The plan – you want to know about the plan. Nothing you need to worry about. First I have to send this official-looking document to Izzy. What a laugh! These days you can fake just about anything. It’s too easy, like taking candy from the proverbial baby. Miles is a funny name. Miles and miles and miles. Dawn is supposed to make you think of the rising sun. The dawn of a new age. Do you suppose my mother was making some kind of a joke? I am sorry, Miles, I really am. I know how much you worried. But it’s all right now, isn’t it, everything’s going to be blissful. You and me, Miles, what a combination!
Chapter Twelve
‘Alan’s taken Nigel and Pippa to a firework display,’ Bev said, ‘it doesn’t start till it’s dark but they’re eating out – to turn it into a proper treat.’
‘Did you want to go with them?’ Izzy wondered if she should offer to look after Cressy for a few hours – or would that be against the rules? What rules? Surely foster parents were allowed to use babysitters.
‘Not my kind of thing.’ Bev tucked the baby into her buggy and began negotiating the space between the kitchen table and the back door. ‘Besides it does them good to spend time on their own with Alan. Hang, I’d better bring a bag with a nappy. Just in case.’
They were going to take Cressy for a walk. The weather had turned colder but she was dressed in a fleecy suit that would keep out the wind. Her little face peeped out from her warm nest. Izzy tickled her tummy and she smiled.
‘She smiled, Bev.’
‘I know. Isn’t she sweet?’
‘So she must be about six weeks. Isn’t that the age they smile?’
‘Varies a bit, but yes. When you found her two weeks ago you thought she was three or four, didn’t you? I think you were right.’
‘When do they start on solids?’
‘Oh, not yet. Depends. Around four months. The health visitors are always changing their minds. She’s a contented little one so I doubt she’ll need to start any earlier. Why do people make such a fuss about food? No, I wasn’t thinking of babies. All those television programmes and once a mouthful’s been chewed a few times does it make any difference what it looked like on the plate? People seem to talk about food far more than they used to. What is it, do you suppose, a substitute for sex?’
Izzy laughed. Presumably Bev was thinking how glad she was there was no evening meal to prepare for the others. Izzy was hungry, could have done with a sandwich, but the moment had past and Bev was locking the back door on the shopping that had been scattered over the kitchen.
Since the pavement was narrow, it was impossible to walk alongside each other until they reached the road that ran up to the park. Bev slowed down to let Izzy catch up with her.
‘Lucky to live here, aren’t we,’ she said, ‘even though our house is not exactly in the same bracket as these.’ She nodded towards a large Victorian semi. ‘You prefer the city, do you?’
‘Not really. When I moved into my house I didn’t know the area all that well. I suppose it was a way of trying to put down roots.’
‘And did it work?’ An old woman with a walking aid was approaching them. Bev seemed to know her, but as it turned out it was only someone she saw most days when she was taking Cressy for a walk.
‘I lived with my boyfriend up to a few weeks ago,’ Izzy said.
‘Oh, I see.’ Izzy could tell Bev was hoping to hear more.
‘It wasn’t working out. I told him to go but I’m not sure he’s accepted I meant it.’
‘All that to deal with, then Cressy left on your doorstep. No wonder you look a bit peaky.’
‘Looking “peaky” means I looked bloody awful.’
‘Rubbish, it gives you a kind of romantic aura.’ Bev smiled to herself. ‘Oh, take no notice of me. The reason I babble on, I don’t get a chance for much adult conversation. With another woman I mean. Not the same with men, is it?’
‘But you must have female friends.’
‘A few but all the talk’s of schools and moody teenagers.’
They had reached
the park, with its wrought iron gates, and beyond them two rows of trees and a large expanse of grass. For the first time, Izzy wondered how far they were from the sea. She knew the way to Bev’s house but had no mental map of the town in her head. Presumably if the seafront was reasonably close by, that would have been Bev’s walk of choice. But perhaps not. Looking at the sea was a treat for people who lived inland, but not for those who lived in a holiday resort.
Bev sat down on a wooden seat and put the brake on the buggy. ‘If they never find the mother, it’ll be years before anyone’s allowed to adopt. Unless the poor woman turns out to be dead.’
‘Yes, I suppose that’s right.’ As in Kath’s case, abandoned babies lost out all round. First their natural mother gave up on them, then they were denied a permanent long-term replacement in case she turned up out of the blue and demanded her child back. ‘How far away is the sea?’
‘Five minutes.’ Bev pointed to a road. ‘We could go back that way if you like, take a roundabout route. Come on. The weather’s improved but not enough to sit down for long.’
If anything the wind had increased, but Izzy liked it by the sea when waves were whipped up and the boats bobbed up and down.
‘We’re spoiled,’ Bev said, ‘living at the seaside. When we first moved to Dawlish I thought we’d go the beach every day, but you start to take it for granted and in summer it’s too crowded, although Nigel and Pippa don’t mind.’
‘Where did you live before?’
‘Exeter. Then Alan was transferred. In a way, I was sorry to move, but we’re settled now. I’ve never asked you this before, but did the police think there was a particular reason Cressy was left outside your house?’
‘Obviously it crossed their mind.’ Izzy longed to tell Bev the truth. ‘As I said before, my road’s been pedestrianized so it was an ideal place to –’
‘Yes, that makes sense.’
But Izzy knew she was as suspicious as DS Fairbrother. ‘I did have a friend,’ she began, ‘but… I wish I could tell you more, Bev, but it’s all guesswork.’
‘You’re saying you might know who the mother is? She could come back any day.’
‘No. No, I doubt if she will.’ Izzy knew what she was thinking. Without warning, the social worker could phone and say she was coming to collect Cressy. Nigel and Pippa had been prepared for this but the whole family was banking on being able to keep her, at least for a few months. Perhaps they hoped the mother had mental health problems, like Nigel and Pippa’s birth mother, and Cressy would be placed in permanent foster care.
‘It must be so hard for you,’ Izzy said, ‘not knowing what’s going to happen.’
Bev gave her a look, as though to say, it would be easier if you told me everything you know. ‘It’s Nigel and Pippa I worry about.’
‘Yes, but worse for you.’
‘What makes you say that?’
Cressy had woken up and started to cry.
‘She’s not hungry.’ Bev lifted her out of the buggy. ‘Just wants to join in the conversation, don’t you, Cressy? Would you like to hold her?’
‘Yes please.’ Izzy lifted the baby against her shoulder. ‘Oh, you’re right, she does feel heavier.’
‘Than when you found her? They reckon she was probably an average weight when she was born, between seven and eight pounds.’
‘How can they tell?’
‘Well, I expect there’s some guess work but full-term babies develop at more or less the same rate. By five or six weeks they can look at an object and follow it if it moves.’
‘That’s what she’s doing now when you hold up her toy.’
‘Pippa gave her that. Bought it with her pocket money. Do you suppose the poor soul gave birth to her all on her own? At least she was well cared for. And she’s a little fighter. That’s what they call them but I reckon all babies are programmed to fight to survive.’
‘So she wasn’t premature?’
‘Full-term they think, the people at the clinic. She always has a proper check-up, just in case. They know what happened so they have a special interest. Everyone loves her.’
‘I’m not surprised.’ Cressy was snuffling against Izzy’s ear and it brought back a sharp memory of that night when she had refused the bottle because the milk was cold, and Izzy had heated water in a pan and …
Bev had gone silent. ‘You’d like to adopt her,’ Izzy said, ‘I don’t blame you. I wouldn’t mind having her myself.’
‘Really?’ Bev’s head spun round.
‘No, I’m not serious, it wouldn’t be right. What I’d like would be if she could stay with you and Alan.’
‘Thanks.’ Bev sounded close to tears. ‘I can dream. Who knows, we might get home and find the social worker on the doorstep, come to tell us her mother’s been found, alive and well.’
‘Even if she had, surely she wouldn’t get Cressy back unless she could prove she could give her a good home.’
Keenly aware of Bev’s distress, she felt terrible that she had failed to air her suspicions, if not to the police, at least to Bev and Alan. But how could she? Inevitably, telling them would mean talking to the police. November the first. She would give herself another week then it would be impossible to keep it to herself.
Back home, Blanche had gone missing. Once it was dark she was usually curled up in one of her favourite places, but Izzy had searched the house and there was no sign of her. For an hour she waited, getting up now and again to look through the window or check the yard, opening the front door and calling Blanche’s name. Cats often stayed out. It had happened once before when she was only five months old. Josh had panicked, gone tearing all over the place, only to return to the house at the same moment Blanche squeezed through the cat flap at the back.
By nine o’clock, Izzy was unable to stay in the house. One more check, to make sure Blanche had not slipped in unnoticed, and she set off down the road. No point asking passers-by if they had seen a cat, even though Blanche had a distinctive white coat. Best to check round the back where there was a patch of rough grass.
Half an hour later, she had walked up and down, peering under bushes and staring up into the branches of trees, without seeing any sign of a cat. Her biggest dread was that she would find her in the gutter, having been hit by a car. She turned corners, holding her breath until she had checked. At the bottom of hill, something was lying in the middle of the road, and she felt her heart begin to thump, but it turned out to be a supermarket bag, full of rotten fruit.
A familiar figure was coming towards her, familiar although it took her a couple of seconds to take in who it was.
‘Izzy?’
‘What are you doing here?’ It was Stuart Robbins.
‘I might well ask you the same.’
‘I’m looking for my cat. She’s gone missing.’
‘Can I help?’
‘Thanks, but I’m going home now. She may have turned up of her own accord. I need to check.’
He walked alongside her, crossing the road when she did and pausing at the top of her street so that she guessed he had known all along where she lived. Had he been coming to see her? If he had, why not say so, but if she had to describe him she would say he was a private kind of man who liked to keep his thoughts to himself.
‘You look cold,’ she said, ‘would you like some coffee?’
‘Coffee?’
‘Up to you.’ Izzy had her hand on the door, waiting impatiently. There was no need for him to sound so surprised, making her feel as if a simple offer of a cup of coffee was tantamount to asking him to stay the night.
‘Thanks.’ He followed her into the house. ‘What kind of a cat is it?’
‘She’s white. I chose a white cat because I thought it would stand a better chance crossing the road.’ Her voice was shaky with emotion. She hoped he hadn’t noticed, but he had.
‘I’m sure she’ll turn up. Why not pour yourself a drink? When I was a kid, I used to get myself into a terrible state if a pet went missi
ng or looked like it was on its last legs. On my ninth birthday, my rabbit died. I found it stretched out in its hutch and when I told Dawn she burst into floods of tears and insisted on making a wooden cross to stick over the place where my mother had buried it.’
He noticed Izzy’s face and put his hand up to his forehead. ‘I’m sorry, how stupid can you be. Stories like that are just about the last thing you want to hear.’
‘No, no it’s all right. Wasn’t Dawn a bit young at the time?’
‘Four or five, but people often imagined she was a good deal older. She was so solemn, like she had the whole weight of the world on her shoulders.’
‘Yes, I know what you mean.’
He took the two glasses she was holding and filled them from the half-empty bottle of red wine. ‘No news then? I thought you might have heard from Rosalie.’
‘No, nothing.’ Had he heard something and come looking for her to check out if she knew more than she was letting on?
The house felt cold, as though the central heating had broken down, but when she touched a radiator it nearly burned her hand. If only Blanche would come back. If only Dawn would contact her, explain why she had abandoned her baby, and say where she and Miles were living. But that would mean Bev had to give up Cressy. She had only looked after her for a couple of weeks but people were supposed to bond with a baby in minutes. No, that was their own baby. With someone else’s it had to be different. However appealing the child was, a part of you had to hold back. Bev had fostered other babies, but in those instances she had known more or less for how long a period because the mother had been ill or homeless.
Stuart had moved across to the window and was looking out. ‘Do you like living on your own?’ He had his back turned but when she remained silent he turned to face her. ‘Nice to have someone to come home to, but it’s not that simple is it?’
‘No.’
‘Harry said …’ he began. ‘I’ll go when I’ve finished this and on my way I’ll have another look round for your cat. What’s her name?’
‘Blanche.’
‘How much has Harry told you about me?’
‘Nothing. Just that you have an interest in old buildings. And the birds. Look, if you know anything about Dawn … I know she’s my friend but just now that’s irrelevant, all that matters –’