In the Blood

by Ruth Mancini

  ‘Which school is that?’ she asks.

  ‘Samuel Watson. The special school up on Tollington Road. But... he’s not there now. They won’t know anything. He goes to an after-school club. I’ve phoned them. They say that Alex... my partner... picked him up early, at five o’clock.’

  ‘And have you spoken to your partner?’

  I shake my head. My forehead prickles; I feel faint with terror. Keep breathing, I remind myself. Deep breaths, in and out. ‘No. That’s the problem, PC...’

  ‘Hindley.’

  ‘PC Hindley,’ I repeat. I shake my head again. ‘He’s not answering. If he picked him up at five, they should have been home by five fifteen at the latest. They should be here now. I don’t know where they are.’

  PC Hindley looks at her watch. ‘Well, it’s only a quarter past eight. Maybe they went out somewhere? Maybe your partner lost your door key and has taken Ben to his house instead?’

  ‘You don’t understand,’ I protest, my voice shaking. I put my hands onto my trembling knees and hold them still. ‘He’s not who he says he is. My partner – he’s crazy. He’s dangerous... I think he tried to kill his own baby, and now he’s got mine.’

  She nods, slowly. ‘OK. Tell me about his baby,’ she says.

  ‘He was in hospital. He got hurt – poisoned – and then he was nearly killed, and... the baby’s mother’s on trial for his attempted murder, but I don’t think it was her... I think it was him.’ My words tumble out rapidly, one after the other.

  ‘And why do you think it was him, not her?’

  ‘Because he’s not who I thought he was. I saw a photo of him in a magazine on my way home tonight; that’s when I realised. He’s lied to me about who he is for months. Everything he’s told me is a pack of lies.’

  PC Hindley nods. ‘OK. What’s your partner’s name?’

  ‘Alex. At least,’ I correct myself, ‘I thought his name was Alex. That’s what he told me. But it’s not. His name’s Jay. James. James Barrington-Brown.’

  ‘Ballington?’ The officer frowns. She stops writing and looks up.

  ‘Barrington,’ I correct her, trying to keep my impatience in check. My mouth is dry. I lick my lips. ‘B-a-double-r. Barrington-Brown. It’s double-barrelled, hyphenated. Look, I know what you’re thinking,’ I add. ‘I asked him to collect Ben, it’s only been a couple of hours... he’s taken Ben out, his phone’s died. But you have to believe me, it’s far worse than that – I know. I know something’s wrong. He’s done this before.’

  ‘Done what before?’ The officer shifts a little in her seat and leans back, frowning.

  ‘He’s gone missing with Ben, twice before. He told me Ben was sick... and then there’s his son. He made him sick too. He poisoned him.’

  This is coming out all wrong. I’m not sure if I’m making any sense.

  The male officer stands and picks up the photo frame from where I’ve left it, lying on the coffee table. ‘Is this Ben?’

  I nod. ‘Yes.’

  He lifts his radio. I can hear him giving his call sign, the case reference number, my address while the female officer continues talking to me at the same time, asking me about Ben, his age, his medical history. I explain about Ben’s vulnerability, his history of chest problems, his epilepsy. The male officer radios it all through.

  ‘So, your partner.’ PC Hindley reads from her notebook. ‘James Barrington-Brown. What’s his address? And his date of birth?’

  ‘I don’t know.’ I shake my head, despairingly. ‘He told me his name was Alex White and that he lived at a flat in Lewisham, but that’s obviously not true; none of it’s true. His name’s James Alexander Barrington-Brown and he’s a doctor, a neurologist. His family are millionaires and he lives in Richmond... or Chelsea. Markham Square. Yes, that’s it. He owns a flat in Markham Square. But he spends a lot of time with his parents at the family home in Richmond. He told me his birthday was in August. Nineteen seventy-four, he said, but I don’t know if that’s true, I don’t know if anything he told me was true...’

  ‘What’s his phone number?’ she asks me. I pick up my phone and find Alex’s number at the top of my call log. With shaking fingers, I then hand it to her. She takes down the number, then calls it from her own phone. I wait with bated breath; perhaps it’s just me he’s ignoring. Maybe he’ll answer for someone else.

  But the call rings out, as it did for me. I can hear the vibration next to her ear, the pleasant woman from the phone company announcing, yet again, that he’s unavailable.

  The officer leaves a brief message with her phone number and then ends the call. ‘CRO check,’ she says to the male officer.

  ‘We want a CRO check on a James Alexander Barrington-Brown,’ I hear him say. ‘It’s a misper. Possibly a domestic.’ He pauses. ‘Partner’s gone to kindergarten to pick up son and hasn’t returned on time.’ He pauses again. ‘Routine,’ he says. ‘She knows him.’

  ‘No, I don’t,’ I scream at him. ‘I don’t know him at all. He’s a stranger to me, a complete stranger, and he’s got my son!’

  The female officer puts a hand on my arm. ‘But he’s your partner? You did ask him to collect Ben for you?’

  ‘Before I realised!’ I protest, tears filling my eyes again. ‘Before I found out who he really was!’

  ‘A doctor.’ She nods. ‘A millionaire doctor.’

  ‘Yes.’ This is hopeless. They don’t believe me. They think I’m just a neurotic parent who’s fallen out with her boyfriend, who’s let him go off with her son and now wants him back.

  The officer nods slowly, then looks up at her colleague. ‘We’ll need to do a check on you too,’ he says.

  ‘You know who I am. I’m a defence lawyer. You’ve seen me at the police station.’

  ‘Of course. But it’s standard to do background checks. We have to cover all angles. We’ll also need to search your home.’

  ‘What for?’ I ask, bewildered.

  ‘As I say, it’s standard.’ PC Hindley smiles. ‘You’d be surprised how many missing children turn up in a cupboard or an attic.’

  ‘This isn’t a game of hide-and-seek!’ I cry out in exasperation. ‘My son is severely learning disabled. He wouldn’t know how to hide in a cupboard, or what the point would be. I told you, he’s with my... he’s with Alex. Jay,’ I correct myself again, shaking my head. ‘They could be anywhere by now. But one thing’s for certain, they’re not here!’

  ‘All the same. If you don’t mind?’ The female officer gets up and follows her colleague out to the hallway and into the kitchen. I follow behind them and watch in despair, the minutes ticking away, as they search through each room, opening doors, rooting through cupboards, looking under beds.

  ‘Please,’ I beg them, following them back into the hallway, watching as they turn my under-stairs cupboard inside out. ‘You have to believe me. You have to circulate this as an abduction – a high priority. I’m begging you. You have to get someone out there now, looking for him. I can give you his vehicle registration. He’ll have triggered an ANPR camera somewhere... he can’t be too hard to find. And you need to check on his son, too. He might have tried to kill him again.’

  ‘Why do you think he tried to kill his son?’

  ‘Because he’s crazy! Please, PC...’ I turn to the male officer, who’s now standing back up again, his hand on his radio.

  ‘Hood,’ he reminds me.

  ‘PC Hood, please run a check and you’ll see that I’m telling you the truth. His son is called Finn Stephens and someone tried to kill him on the twenty-fifth of July last year. The case is at the Old Bailey – it’s in court next week for trial.’

  PC Hindley stands up and shuts the cupboard door. ‘But you said the baby’s mother has already been charged?’

  ‘Yes. But they’ve got the wrong person. It’s Alex. Jay,’ I correct myself for the millionth time, clapping my hand to my head. ‘It’s Jay who’s done this. James Barrington-Brown.’

  PC Hindley eyes me suspiciously. S
he walks back into the living room and I follow her. ‘So, what’s your involvement with this case?’ she asks.

  I sink down into a chair and put my head in my hands. I know exactly where this is going. I know how this is going to sound. ‘I represent the mother. Ellis Stephens.’

  There’s silence in the room. PC Hood’s radio has gone quiet. I lift my head up and look at them both. PC Hood sits down on the sofa.

  PC Hindley is still frowning. ‘So, you represent the mother... but you’ve been having a relationship with the father. Your relationship with the father is now over, and you’re now saying that he, not your client, is responsible for attempting to kill their child?’

  I nod and lift my hands up, helplessly. ‘Yes. Look, I know how that sounds...’

  ‘Isn’t that something of a conflict of interest?’ asks PC Hood.

  I sigh. ‘Yes. Of course it is. It’s a huge conflict of interest. Only I didn’t know; that’s my point. I didn’t know who he was. I found out today – this evening – on my way home. That’s when I realised that Ben was in danger. Like I said, it’s happened before. Twice before. He was looking after Ben, both times, and then Ben got ill... sick, and he took him to hospital, and—’

  ‘He took him to hospital,’ PC Hindley interrupts me. ‘So, what you’re telling me is that, both times before, when your partner and your son went “missing”’ – she puts air quotes around the word ‘missing’ – ‘what had actually happened was that your son had fallen ill. He’d needed medical attention – and your partner got that for him?’

  ‘Yes, but... now I’m wondering if my son was really ill. I don’t know if he was really ill, or if Alex— Jay. I mean, Jay...’

  The female officer puts her head to one side.

  ‘I think Jay might have done something to him,’ I finish. I take a deep breath in. ‘I know it sounds a bit... a bit crazy. But I think he might have made him ill and then...’

  ‘And then taken him to hospital?’ PC Hindley has stopped writing down what I’m telling her.

  ‘Yes,’ I say, weakly.

  ‘But you told me your son has a long history of medical problems. That he has epilepsy?’

  ‘Yes.’ I nod.

  ‘And last time... last time, they’d just gone to A&E?’

  ‘Yes...’

  ‘So... is it possible that your son has fallen ill again?’ she asks. ‘That your partner has taken him to A&E again?’

  ‘Yes.’ I nod. Oh my God. Why didn’t I think of this? I’ve been too busy panicking to think of this. The nearest hospital; that’s where they’ll be. ‘The Whittington,’ I say. I leap up. ‘We need to go to the Whittington.’

  The male officer speaks into his radio. ‘Whittington Hospital Accident and Emergency department.’ He looks at his colleague and she nods.

  ‘Let’s go.’

  18

  I’m first out of the police car and in through the hospital doors. A strange blend of relief and fear washes over me as I immediately spot Alex, seated in the waiting area. He jumps up to greet me, his face a portrait of anxiety and concern.

  ‘Where is he?’ I demand.

  ‘Sarah, he had another seizure. I couldn’t wake him up...’

  ‘Where is he?’ I repeat, louder this time.

  Alex lifts his hand and points towards an open door a few feet away. ‘He’s in there.’

  I turn on my heel.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ Alex calls after me. ‘I’m sorry if I worried you. I was just about to call you. But Ben was so ill, I couldn’t wake him...’

  He takes a step to follow me, but I hold up my hand. ‘Stay there!’ I bark my command, glancing up over his shoulder as the officers walk in through the hospital doors.

  I run across the corridor. Behind me, I can hear PC Hindley asking Alex, ‘Are you James Barrington-Brown?’ and Alex’s surprised voice answering, ‘What? What’s this about?’

  I tap on the door to the consultant’s room and open it. Ben is in the corner, fast asleep on a hospital bed. His mouth is slightly open and one arm is flung out beside him, his chest rising and falling in a gentle rhythm. I breathe in sharply as I spot the cannula protruding from the back of his hand, but it’s empty and there are no drips or wires.

  The nurse and consultant are standing in the opposite corner, talking. Both look up as I enter the room.

  ‘I’m his mother,’ I say. ‘Is he OK? Is he conscious?’

  The consultant, a woman, holds out her hand and shakes mine. She smiles. ‘Yes. He’s doing OK. His breathing is a little irregular and his reflexes are reduced, but that’s common after a seizure, as the body recovers. We’re minded to simply monitor him overnight and see how he does.’

  I ask, ‘How long did the seizure last?’

  ‘Well, your partner says—’

  ‘Never mind what he says,’ I interrupt her. ‘What did you see? What did you witness for yourself?’

  The consultant frowns. ‘Well, nothing. He was stable by the time I arrived.’

  ‘What do his notes say? Can I see his notes?’

  There’s a tap on the door, and PC Hood walks in. The consultant looks from me to the officer and back again, in surprise.

  ‘We’ve had a report of a missing person,’ he says to the consultant. To me, he says, ‘Is this Ben?’ He points to the bed.

  I nod. ‘Yes.’

  PC Hood lifts up his radio. ‘Misper located at Whittington Hospital.’ He turns to the consultant. ‘How is he?’

  ‘He’s stable,’ she answers, looking confused. ‘We’re told by the male who brought him in that he’s had more than one seizure this evening.’

  ‘Please... what do his notes say?’ I repeat.

  The consultant looks from me to the officer again for a moment and then pulls a clipboard from the back of the bed. She scans the page and looks up. ‘He was stable on triage examination. Very drowsy, but not ataxic.’

  ‘Ataxic?’

  ‘There wasn’t a complete loss of bodily function. He was much as he is now, it seems. He’ll be asleep for some time, I imagine. But his observations are good.’

  ‘Are you sure?’ I ask. ‘What if... if he’d been given salt? Would you know? Can you test for that?’

  The doctor frowns. ‘Salt?’

  ‘Sodium. If he’d been fed salt, or... or injected with saline or...’

  The doctor looks confused. ‘His renal function appears fine. There’s no evidence of raised sodium levels. Why do you—’

  ‘I think he might have been given something... something that made him have a seizure...’

  ‘Well, your partner said—’

  ‘I don’t care what he said!’ I snap at her. ‘And he’s not my partner!’

  Her face falls in alarm.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ I apologise. ‘I’m just...’ I take a deep breath. ‘He’s not my partner,’ I explain. ‘He’s just someone I’ve been stupid enough to leave my son with.’

  I burst into tears as I say the word ‘stupid’. The nurse immediately moves over, puts her arm round me and guides me to a seat.

  The consultant looks down at Ben’s notes again. ‘There’s no obvious way of telling exactly what has occurred,’ she says. ‘Not without carrying out further tests. But I’m not minded to go down that route, to be honest. We’ve run the usual blood tests and they haven’t revealed any abnormalities so far. His recent CAT and MRI scans didn’t flag up anything either. So, I think we can safely say that his seizures don’t appear to have any underlying cause.’

  I wipe my eyes with the backs of my hands. The consultant continues to look vaguely baffled for a moment before she says, ‘It’s good news, Ms...’

  ‘Kellerman. Sarah,’ I say.

  ‘Well, it’s good news, Sarah. We’ll have to monitor him overnight, of course, but I’d say that he’s going to be just fine.’

  The nurse smiles at me and puts her arm round my shoulder. ‘There,’ she says. ‘You heard what she said.’

  I nod, unable to speak for
a moment. ‘Thank you,’ I say, finally, standing up. ‘I really appreciate everything you’ve done.’

  The consultant walks over to the door. ‘I’ll send someone to take Ben up to the ward,’ she tells me. ‘And we’ll see him again in the morning.’ She exits the room, followed by PC Hood. The nurse gives me a sympathetic look and leaves the room too. I sit down next to Ben and stroke his head. A few moments later a porter arrives. I establish the name of the ward that Ben’s going to and then lean forward and plant a long kiss on his forehead.

  ‘I am so, so sorry, my darling,’ I whisper into his ear. ‘I promise – you have my word – I will never, ever let this happen to you again.’

  Alex is sitting outside in the waiting area. PCs Hindley and Hood are seated either side of him. Alex jumps up as soon as he sees me and stretches out his arms.

  I take a step backwards. ‘Don’t touch me!’ I spit.

  ‘Sarah,’ he pleads. ‘I can explain.’

  The officers stand up. PC Hindley says, ‘We’ll leave you to talk.’

  I turn to face them. ‘What? What do you mean, you’ll leave us to talk? You mean, you’re not going to arrest him?’

  PC Hindley shakes her head. ‘There are no grounds.’ The look on her face is clear: she thinks I’m neurotic. She thinks I’ve been wasting her time. ‘You told me that Ben has a long medical history, a history of seizures, and it seems that Mr Barrington-Brown has behaved entirely appropriately in bringing him here.’

  ‘But he’s lied!’ I protest. ‘He’s lied to me about who he is!’

  She nods, slowly. ‘Well, that’s a matter between the two of you. It’s clearly not a crime. We’ll pass everything on to the Child Protection Team. They may be in touch.’

  The officers turn and walk out through the hospital doors. I watch in hopeless silence as they go, before spinning round to face Alex. ‘What did you give him?’

  ‘What did I give him?’ Alex looks confused. ‘Well, nothing. I didn’t give him his medication, if that’s what you mean? It wasn’t due for another hour.’

  ‘I’m not talking about his medication! I’m talking about what you gave him, what you injected him with to make him that sleepy.’