This Little Piggy

by Bea Davenport

  Amy stuck out her lower lip and thought for a minute. “I think I should go to bed now,” she said.

  Clare stared as Amy got up and took the hot chocolate mug into the kitchen, where the washing machine was whirring. She got up and followed her.

  “Are you sure you’re all right?”

  “Yep.” Amy didn’t look Clare in the eye as she swerved past her and headed for the spare room. Clare listened as the door clicked shut. She sat on her own bed and thought. These days, it felt like Amy was always on the point of telling her something. Something big, at least big to Amy’s ten-year-old mind. But then she kept backing out at the last second.

  twelve

  Sunday 5th August

  It was shortly after four in the morning, when it was starting to get light, that Clare woke to a sound in her back yard. She sat up and inched back the edge of the curtain. Amy was quietly replacing the lid on Clare’s dustbin and slipping back through the kitchen door, clicking it shut as silently as possible.

  Clare lay still, waiting until she was fairly sure Amy had gone back into the little bedroom. Then she pulled on a T-shirt and went out to look in the bin, to see what Amy had dropped in there. She hoped it wasn’t more bed sheets.

  At first Clare couldn’t see anything obvious among the piles of cartons and newspapers. She leaned over and poked around, her hand finding something wrapped up in a sort of bundle. She pulled it out and opened the layers of paper. It had been well wrapped, she thought. It reminded her of the child’s game of pass-the-parcel: layer after layer of paper. And just when she was beginning to think that that’s all there was, and there was nothing at the centre of the bundle, she peeled back the final layer to find something small and soft. It was a baby’s blue and white checked sunhat.

  Clare jumped and her skin felt as if electricity was jolting through it. She could feel her heart palpitating. She wrapped the hat quickly back in its final layer of newspaper and ran back inside. She put the little parcel on the kitchen bench and stared at it, her heart thumping so hard and her breath so short it was making her feel dizzy. Her thoughts raced, unable to form any sense. How had Amy come by this? Why was she carrying it around with her? Fingers shaking, she edged the paper back again just to be sure she had seen what she thought she’d seen. There could be no doubt about it. This had to be baby Jamie’s missing sunhat.

  She heard a tiny shuffling sound and turned quickly to see Amy standing in the doorway, watching her. She found herself going hot, as if she’d been caught in the act of doing something she shouldn’t.

  “Amy. Hi.”

  Amy said nothing. She just stared at the bundle on the kitchen bench. Then she looked back at Clare. Clare couldn’t read her expression.

  “Look, I heard you putting something in the bin so I got up to see what it was, that’s all. I have to ask where you got this. Is it what I think it is?”

  Amy nodded.

  “How did you get hold of it?”

  “I found it, that’s all. Out beside the bins at home.”

  “When was that?”

  Amy blew air out of her cheeks, thinking. “Just the other day.”

  Clare leaned forward and put her head in her hands for a minute. “You’re saying you found baby Jamie’s missing sunhat beside the bins, just a few days ago?”

  Amy said nothing. She pressed her lips together and looked at Clare. She took a step backwards and the wariness in her eyes suggested she was expecting Clare to get angry.

  “The thing is,” Clare went on, “I can’t see how that would be possible. The police went through that area very carefully just after Jamie died. They would have found it then, wouldn’t they?”

  Amy still didn’t reply. She twirled a ratty strand of hair round her fingers, her eyes still fixed on Clare.

  “You must have found it quite a long time ago,” Clare went on. “And you knew the police were looking for it. Why didn’t you hand it in? It could be really important in helping them to catch Jamie’s killer.”

  Amy’s chin crumpled.

  “Don’t cry. I’m not angry, I promise. I’m just trying to understand.”

  “I wanted to give it to you.” Small tears trickled slowly down Amy’s face. “I thought if I gave it to you then you’d get a really good story on the front page. But then I got scared. So I thought I’d just put it in the bin and forget about it.”

  Clare didn’t know what to say, for a moment or two.

  “Okay, Amy. We are going to have to give this to the police and tell them, you know that, don’t you?”

  Amy’s mouth dropped wide open. “You can’t. They’ll put me in prison.”

  “They won’t.”

  “They will. It’s called holding evidence or something. I’ve seen it on the telly. They always put people in jail for it.”

  “But you’re a kid, Amy.”

  “They might put me in care though. I don’t want that.”

  “You’re really scared of that, aren’t you?”

  “Me mam says it’s just like prison. She says people beat you up all the time and lock you up in your room and it’s really scary and there’s no one there to be nice to you.”

  “I’m sure it’s not really like that. Anyway, they won’t do that. They might tell you off a bit, that’s all.”

  “Me mam said I hadn’t got to speak to the police anymore, about anything, because it just causes trouble.”

  “I’ll speak to them, then. Your mum’s not here to decide. But you must promise me that you’ll never do anything like this again. Tell me again exactly where you found it. And when.”

  Amy bit her lip. “I’m hungry.”

  “It’s a bit early for breakfast.”

  “But I’m starving.”

  Clare sighed. “I’ll make some toast. And then we have to think about this. It’s important.”

  “We don’t have to see the police today, though?”

  “Yes, we do.”

  Amy’s face twisted. She didn’t eat her toast and her usual constant chatter dried up completely, no matter what Clare tried to talk about. At around five-thirty, she started yawning.

  Clare looked at her and softened. She was being too hard, expecting Amy to respond like an adult. “You know what? It’s still really early. Neither of us have had much sleep. Why don’t we both go back to bed and try to get a couple of hours? And then we’ll go and see my friend Chief Inspector Seaton and explain everything.

  “I promise they won’t put you in prison. And when we’re done, we’ll do something nice. We’ll go out for a picnic. Or maybe see what’s on at the cinema. And we’ll forget all about it, okay?”

  Amy nodded and got up. She turned to Clare. “When it’s all sorted out, can I come and live here?”

  Clare blinked and smiled. “No, Amy, you can’t.”

  “Why not?”

  Clare had to think about that. “Your mum will miss you. You belong to her, not to me.”

  “She won’t miss me, not one bit. She wants Mickey, not me.”

  “I think she wants both of you.”

  “Do you not want me, then? Is it because of your new boyfriend?”

  Clare hesitated. “I really like you. Amy. And it’s nothing to do with Finn. But the law wouldn’t let you just come and live with me. It could never happen. I’m sorry.”

  Amy gave a little sigh and went into her room, without another word. Clare closed her own bedroom door. She lay down on top of her bed, not expecting to be able to rest. But she drifted off, into a heavier sleep than usual, and when she slowly opened her eyes it was almost eight o’clock. She jumped up and opened the bedroom door. The place felt strangely quiet. Amy must still be asleep. Good, Clare thought. For such a little girl, she had unnaturally dark rings around her eyes. A long lie-in would do her good.

  By the time Clare was dressed, Amy still hadn’t stirred. Clare turned on the radio, in the hope that Amy would hear it and emerge from her room. But when time ticked on, Clare thought perhaps she ought to wake
the girl up, if they were going to do anything with the rest of the day. She tapped lightly on the bedroom door. “Hey, Amy. Want any more breakfast? How about scrambled eggs? It’s the one thing I know how to cook.”

  There was no answer. Clare tapped a little louder. Then she opened the door. The room was empty.

  Clare’s stomach lurched as if she was travelling down fast in a lift. Amy had taken her little carrier bag of clothes. She had left a scribbled note on the bed, written in her childish handwriting. It read: Dear Clare, Im sorry Im so much trouble. Im gone away now and I will be okay. Amy.

  “Oh god,” Clare said out loud. She grabbed her bag and ran out to the car. Then she drove slowly around some of the nearby streets, trying to spot Amy, before heading off to Sweetmeadows, hoping against hope that the child had done the obvious thing and gone back home.

  But there was no answer at the flat. There wasn’t even the sound of barking. After Clare had thumped and banged at the door for a while, a woman put her head out of the next door along. “There’s no one there, pet. I saw them leave the other day with their bags.”

  “Yes, I know, but I’m supposed to be looking after the little girl and she’s gone missing.”

  “Amy? She goes where she likes. I wouldn’t fret about her.”

  “I really have to find her. Are you the neighbour who was feeding their dog?”

  The woman shook her head and shrugged.

  Clare wandered back to her car and drove home, in the faint hope that she would find Amy sitting on the doorstep. She wasn’t there. Clare flicked through her contacts book until she found an out-of-hours number for Geoff Powburn.

  “Geoff, it’s Clare Jackson from the Post. Are you busy?”

  “It’s Sunday. I’m sitting in front of the telly. I can think of only two reasons why you would be calling. Either I’ve made some massive cock-up and there’s a big scandal about our social services ready to break in the paper. Or you’re asking me out, at last. Please say you’re asking me out?”

  “Remember I mentioned I was worried about a child? I think I need to speak to someone about it. Urgently.”

  Geoff sighed. “It’s not my weekend on, strictly speaking, but seeing as it’s you. Where are you?”

  When Geoff arrived, Clare told him an edited-down version of Amy’s story. “So she thinks she’s in all sorts of trouble and she’s run away from here. And the mum’s nowhere to be found. Off with a boyfriend somewhere, no contact numbers, possibly away abroad.”

  “You shouldn’t have got so involved, you know. You should have told someone like me, as soon as you had concerns.”

  “Yes, thank you, I know that. But can we start from where I’m at now? How can we find her? And then what will happen to her?”

  Geoff rubbed his eyes and sighed. “I’ll get a colleague to come with me. We’ll check out her flat first of all and talk to the neighbours.”

  “I’ve already done that, I told you. She’s not there.”

  “We have to start somewhere.”

  “If you find her…”

  Geoff raised his eyebrows. “What?”

  “Just… be kind.”

  “I’m always kind.”

  As Geoff drove away, Clare spotted Mary McKenna walking down the street towards her, her face tight. She frowned at her. “Mary? Is everything okay?”

  For a second, Mary just looked at Clare. Then her tense face seemed to crack and crumble, like a stone dissolving into sand. She let out a small sob. “Oh, god. He’s not here, then.”

  “Who? Finn? Of course he isn’t. Have you not seen him?” Clare stopped and put her arms around Mary. “Look, come in. Come in and sit down. Tell me what’s going on.”

  Clare made Mary tea, but she didn’t drink it. “We’ve had a letter.”

  “From Finn? What’s going on with him?”

  “He told us that he’s working for…” Mary pursed her lips and put a hand over her mouth. She closed her eyes. For a moment, Clare thought she was going to be sick. Instead, she spat out the words. “He’s been working undercover. Infiltrating the strike. Passing things onto the police.”

  Clare felt dizzy. “No. That can’t be right. Finn was passionate about the strike.”

  Mary shook her head, her lips still pursed as if she was trying to stop herself from screaming. “It’s been a lie. He says he did it because he didn’t want to go to prison. But to be honest, I’d rather see him in jail than disgrace us like this.”

  She leaned over and grasped Clare’s hand, hard. “I want you to know we had no idea. He lied to his family and he lied to the men he called his friends. We had absolutely no idea.” She paused and looked at Clare, her eyes bright and wet. “Did you?”

  Clare shook her head, dumbly. Shapes passed in front of her eyes, as if she’d been hit hard across the head again. “I think he wanted to tell me, but I wasn’t ready for more bad news. I stopped him I still don’t understand.”

  “I don’t think I’ll ever understand. His dad’s disowned him. From now on, Finn’s dead as far as we’re concerned.”

  “So where is he now?”

  “He didn’t say. Only that he’ll be changing his name and we won’t hear from him again. Off to betray some other poor beggars, no doubt.” She stared into her cold tea. “I don’t know how anyone can do that sort of thing. Especially not a son of mine.”

  Clare wiped her hand across her face, surprised at how wet it was. “I owe him money.”

  “What?” Mary looked at her as if she had started talking gibberish.

  “He paid some bills for me.” Clare groped around for a tissue. “I didn’t know. But when I was in hospital, someone cleared all my red bills. It must’ve been him. He had my keys for a while.”

  Mary sniffed. “Now and again, he’d turn up with a bit of extra cash for us, or a cut of meat, that sort of thing. He told us not to ask how he’d got it, he just promised he hadn’t pinched it.” She curled her lip. “He was using his blood money. It makes me sick to think about it.” She gripped Clare’s hand even tighter. “Don’t tell anyone. I know you’re a journalist but please – just think what it would do to our family, if the word got out. The shame is bad enough, without everyone else knowing about it too. Just let them think he’s gone off somewhere. Anything but the truth.”

  Clare gave a small nod, the best she could manage. “Did he… did he say anything in the letter about me?”

  “He said tell Clare I’m very sorry.”

  thirteen

  An hour passed after Clare watched the hunched figure of Mary make her way back down the street. Clare crouched on her sofa, her curtains drawn, clutching her arms around her queasy stomach. The whole day felt surreal, as if she was in a very lucid kind of nightmare. When the phone rang, she leaped at it. It was Joe.

  “Hey, Clare? Haven’t heard from you for a couple of days. A few of us are in the pub at the sea front if you want to join?”

  Clare resisted the urge to scream. “I’m waiting for an important call. Sorry.”

  “No worries. I hope you’re not working, though.”

  “It’s not work.”

  “I’m glad to hear it. Hey, I’ll tell you who I saw when I was parking the car up here. Your little pal. What’s her name again? Amy?”

  “Seriously? You saw her just now?”

  “Yes. She was with that beast of a dog. I told her not to wander along the edge of the cliffs and she gave me the V-sign. What a little charmer. Clare? Are you still there?”

  Clare dropped the phone and grabbed her car keys. She drove out to the sea front so blindly she could barely remember how she got there. There were cars in the car park and dozens of families with kids and people walking dogs. Clare rubbed her eyes, staring around. The whole scene seemed so wrong: parents and sunshine and children laughing and playing. She found it jarring.

  Clare couldn’t say for certain, but there was a little figure in the distance that could possibly be Amy, walking erratically next to a big dog. Clare started to r
un, dodging anyone strolling in the opposite direction. As she got closer, she knew for sure it was Amy. Clare opened her mouth to call out, before instinct told her not to. The girl might panic and run away again. Clare slowed to a walk, but gained on the child, keeping a distance behind her until they were a little way away from most of the day-trippers, further along the cliff edges.

  Something made Amy stop and turn. If she was surprised to see Clare, she didn’t show it. She just stayed still, waiting for Clare to catch up.

  “I’m so glad I’ve found you. You gave me such a fright. Are you okay?”

  Amy didn’t say anything. As Clare got closer, trying not to look over the edge of the cliffs, she could see that the girl’s face was red and her eyes were swollen and veined with crying.

  She held out her hands. “You mustn’t be so upset. I’ve told you, I’ll talk to the police with you. We’ll explain that when you found the hat you were too frightened to hand it in. You’re only a child, Amy. They’re not going to be hard on you.”

  Amy sat down on the yellowing grass. Max flopped down beside her, his huge tongue lolling out of his mouth. Amy cuddled him closer to her. “He’s hungry and thirsty,” she said. “No one’s been feeding him. Me mam lied. She just left him on his own.”

  “Let’s go back to mine and get him some dog food, then.”

  “I gave him a pie already.” Amy stared out to the sea. “I took some money out of your purse. Sorry.” She turned out the pocket of her shorts and some coins fell out.

  “Tina said a neighbour was looking after him,” Clare said. She could have slapped the woman.

  “I know. I just wanted to see him, though. And when I found him, he was on his own. He was all whiney and sad.” Amy hugged the dog a little tighter.

  Clare hated heights. The cliff edge wasn’t making her vertigo any better. How were these cliffs not fenced off? She tried hard not to look over the top, but her gaze kept travelling back over the edge. Her body felt covered in sweat.

  “It doesn’t matter about the money. But how about we go back now? You can bring Max, for the time being. We can take care of him.”