by Tania Carver
The team followed him, as carefully and quietly as they could.
79
The baby’s eyes closed.
‘That’s it… good girl, that’s it…’
Hester held the baby with one hand, stroked her neck with the other. So fragile, so small, the difference between life and death. Like a toy, a child’s toy.You could play with it for years but then one day you decide to burn it, or hack away at it. Just to see what happens. And you do see what happens. But after that moment’s gone, you’re left with a melted lump of plastic, or something broken and useless. Only good for throwing away.
And that’s what the baby was now. It would only take a moment, just a few seconds, less than a minute, even. And it would all be over. Then things could go back to normal. Her husband could return and they could be together again.
Just one moment.
The baby’s breathing changed. She was asleep. Hester smiled again. She had done it. She had talked to the baby, rocked her, got her to sleep. Like a real mother would do.
She sighed.
A real mother.
But it didn’t matter. Not now. She had a plan. She had to follow it through. She had to make things happen.
She placed the baby back in her cot, careful not to wake her. Covered her with the blanket. Looked at her. Then knelt beside her, placed her hands gently round the baby’s throat.
And something sparked within her. Stopping her.
She. She had called the baby she. Not it. She. Like a mother would do.
Maybe that meant something. That she was a proper mother after all. That she didn’t hate the baby; she was capable of looking after it.
She closed her eyes, her head starting to hurt. No. She had to do it. Had to kill it. It was the only way for her husband to return. He wouldn’t come back so long as the baby was there, she knew that. Whatever else she felt, she knew that.
So she had to do it. Had to.
She placed her hands round the baby’s neck again. Tried to speak. Couldn’t get the words out. Noticed for the first time that she was crying. It stopped her.
‘Buh-bye bye, buh-baby…’
Still sobbing, but as quietly as she could so as not to wake her, she placed her hands tenderly around the baby’s neck.
And began to squeeze.
80
The house was surrounded.
Phil couldn’t believe anyone actually lived there. His initial impression had been right. It looked almost totally derelict, with black plastic sheeting and hardboard patching up holes and rotting areas in the wooden cladding. Tiles were missing off the roof and the yard outside was so full of junk it looked like a health and safety officer’s worst nightmare.
It was the right place. He was sure of it.
The team were in place. Phil was standing beside what he supposed was the front door, next to a team armed with a battering ram, ready to break it down. He spoke into his radio.
Gave the signal.
The battering ram was in place.
The door was smashed off its hinges.
They charged in.
Hester’s hands were round the baby’s neck when she heard the noise.
It was a huge crash, like an explosion. At first she wondered if it was an earthquake or a bomb. And her immediate thought: she hoped it didn’t waken the baby.
But then she heard movement behind her. Shouting, running, lights, bodies.
In her home. In her home.
She turned, shocked, tried to take in what was happening. Couldn’t. Didn’t know what was going on. All she knew was that she was scared.
There were men. And women. Some holding fearsome guns. All shouting at her. Telling her to do things. Step away, lie down, things like that. She looked from one to another in turn, trying to make out what it was they wanted her to do. Lie down, step away. Pointing their guns.
Her heart was beating like it was ready to burst. She didn’t know what to do. She turned away from them, heard them shout even louder, move closer to her. She looked at the baby. She was starting to wake up. They had made so much noise they were waking up the baby.
In desperation, she grabbed hold of her and pulled her out of the cot. She had to rock the baby back to sleep. Couldn’t have her awake, not now. She clutched the baby to her chest, turned round again.
They had taken a step back. Still shouting at her, but there were more words in the orders now. Put the baby down, step away, lie down, put your hands on your head. It was like a game she didn’t know the rules for and that she couldn’t keep up with.
So she clutched the baby to her.
The baby started to cry.
She closed her eyes. Tried to will them all away.
Anni focused on the scene before her. She saw Phil at the front of the team, commandingly issuing orders. She quickly took in her surroundings. First she checked for exits and entrances, anywhere they could be attacked from. Task-force members had positioned themselves there. She looked round.
She had seen squalor before, but this place was one of the worst. It looked like someone had been squatting in a dilapidated garage or outhouse. There were attempts at homeliness: armchairs and a settee with antimacassars draped over them. But the furniture was worn and old, like it had been salvaged from some tip. A rusted old tin bath had been set up as a cot; there was an attempt at a kitchen area, but Anni wouldn’t have wanted to eat anything prepared there.
The most frightening thing was the person holding the baby. She had expected something, or someone, out of the ordinary. But she hadn’t been prepared for the sight of the figure that greeted her. Tall, over six feet, wearing a faded flowered sun dress over what looked like at least two layers of vests and T-shirts, with filthy old denims and boots. A badly fitted wig had slipped back to reveal a shaven head, and make-up had been applied as if without a mirror. There was also facial stubble where this person hadn’t shaved for a day or two.
Anni tried to hold her revulsion in and concentrate. She thought instead of Graeme Eades, and the last time she had seen him as he lay sobbing in the cheap chain hotel, thoroughly repentant and guilt-eaten, begging them to return his baby, the only link to his dead wife. That sharpened her concentration.
She looked at Phil, standing in front of her, using the calm and reasonable voice he used in interviews to make suspects open up. The earlier shouting and gun-brandishing hadn’t worked, just made Hester cling even tighter to the baby. So he had changed his approach. He was asking her to put the baby down, to move away. But his words, no matter how softly spoken they were, didn’t seem to be having any effect either. Anni thought she knew why.
She softly placed her hand on Phil’s sleeve. He looked at her, stopped talking. She gestured with her eyes: let me try. He nodded. She stood alongside him.
‘Listen to me,’ she said. ‘My name’s Anni. Is your name Hester?’
Hester’s eyes were all over, roving about, trying to take in what was happening. Fluttering round the room like a swallow trapped in a barn. Her hands were back on the baby’s neck. Anni knew that the slightest application of pressure could kill the baby.
‘You are Hester, aren’t you? That’s your name?’ Anni tried to keep her voice soft, but had to raise it to be heard over the crying of the baby. She kept looking at Hester, willing her to look back.
‘Hester…’
Hester’s eyes stopped fluttering round the room, began to focus on Anni and her softly spoken words.
‘Your name is Hester, isn’t it?’
Hester held her eyes, blinking rapidly. She nodded.
‘Good. Listen, Hester, I’m not here to hurt you. Nobody wants to hurt you, okay? We’re just worried about you. You and the baby.’
Anni waited, hoping the words had sunk in. She kept on talking, still using that soft, soothing tone.
‘Look, Hester, why don’t you put the baby down, yeah? Then we can talk. Talk properly.’
Hester looked down at the baby, began shushing and soothing it. The baby
’s crying began to gradually subside.
Anni edged a couple of centimetres forward.
‘You’re good with babies, Hester. Very good. Now why don’t you put it down, yeah? Then we can talk…’
Hester frowned, still clutching the baby tightly to her. Rocking it from side to side. ‘Wh-what about? Why…’
‘You’re out here on your own, you’ve got a baby to look after, you need help, Hester…’
‘I’ve got my… my husband, he’ll… he’s away, he’s… got to come back…’
‘Your husband. Right.’The last thing they wanted was for the husband to return while Hester was holding the baby. ‘Listen, Hester, don’t worry about your husband now. He’s not here. Just think about what’s best for you and the baby. I can help you, Hester. Give you the support that you and the baby need.’
Another step forward.
‘Come on, Hester, let’s talk, yeah? Just two women together.’
She risked another step. Hester, still rocking the baby, had reacted when she had said ‘two women’. Clearly that was the right thing to say. Anni kept going.
‘Look,’ she pointed at the team behind her, ‘don’t worry about them. They’re men. They don’t understand. Guns and that, shouting, that’s how they respond to things.’ She turned back to Hester, looked her directly in the eye. ‘Women are different, aren’t we? We know how to talk properly, without all that. So come on.’ Another step forward. ‘Let’s talk. Just you and me.’
Hester looked between Anni, the baby and the tooled-up task force. It seemed, from the confusion in her eyes, that she genuinely didn’t know what to do. She kept rocking the baby from side to side. It was silent now.
Anni risked another step forward. She was almost level with her now.
‘Come on, Hester, you must be tired standing there. Are you tired?’
Hester thought about it, nodded.
‘Thought so.’ Anni held out her arms. ‘Let me put the baby down, then we can talk. Properly.You and me.Yeah?’
Anni smiled. Hoping she looked trustworthy and honest.
Hester looked at the baby and then at Anni, her world having shrunk down to that choice. She began to release her grip on the baby, to hand it over.
Anni’s heart was racing, her hands shaking. She hoped it didn’t show too much.
‘Come on, Hester. Let me take the baby and we can have a chat…’
Hester, with the simplicity of trust that a child would have, hesitantly stretched out her hands, the baby held firmly in them.
Anni stepped up close to her, smiling all the while. She placed her hands beneath the baby, took her gently from Hester.
She held the baby tightly to her. She looked up, saw Hester’s face. Expectant, waiting. Trusting. It really was like betraying a child, she thought.
She nodded to Phil, who gave the order. Hester was rushed. Grabbed by the task force, pushed to the ground. She let out a cry of rage that turned into a wail of sorrow.
‘I’m sorry,’ said Anni, but her words were lost in the noise.
She carried the baby away from Hester, right to the back of the house. Phil followed her.
‘Well done,’ he said.
‘Get the paramedics,’ said Anni, without turning round. ‘I’m going outside.’
And she left the house, clutching the baby to her chest. Still not turning round.
Not allowing anyone to see the tears on her face.
81
‘ We’ve searched the whole house, sir,’ said one of the uniforms. ‘No sign of Marina Esposito. No sign of anyone. But we found this.’ He handed Phil a piece of paper. ‘It was nailed to the wall in the kitchen.’
Phil looked at it. Couldn’t believe his eyes. They were all there. Lisa King, Susie Evans, Claire Fielding, Caroline Eades. Other names followed them. Beside each name was a date. Due dates, thought Phil. But it was the name at the bottom of the list that concerned him most.
Marina Esposito, it said in handwriting different from but no better than the earlier entries. And next to it, from the coppers.
Phil tried to keep panic, desperation from his voice. He addressed the uniform again. ‘You’ve looked everywhere. What about basements? Lofts? Anything like that?’
The uniform shook her head. ‘Nothing. We’ve checked.’
‘Outbuildings?’
‘Checked them too. Apart from some chickens and pigs, there’s no one else here.’
‘Keep looking.’
Phil moved swiftly outside. Hester was just about to be escorted away. He ran to the van, confronted Hester. The policemen holding her didn’t let her go.
‘Where is she?’ he said. ‘Where’ve you put her?’
Hester just stared at him, mouth hanging slackly open, fear in her eyes.
Phil brandished the list before her face. ‘Here,’ he said, stabbing the name with his finger, ‘Marina Esposito. Here. Her name. Now where is she? Where’ve you put her?’
Hester tried to back away from him, terrified. She started whimpering. Phil kept going.
‘Where is she? Where is she?’
Hester cowered away from him, turning her face into the arms of one of the officers holding her. ‘No… no… don’t, don’t hurt me… go away, go away…’
‘Where is she…’ Phil realised that his words weren’t working. Hester didn’t know.
It wasn’t her. She didn’t know.
He turned away. ‘Oh God…’
They bundled her into the police van.
Phil stood there watching her go, his heart as black, dark and heavy as the Wrabness night.
He was lost.
Marina crept along, bent low, walking slowly. The light was getting brighter as she reached its source, the shadows lengthening, flickering as they came round the corners. It was accompanied by noise. Rhythmic pounding. Hammering.
She pressed herself in tight against the wall, gripped the screwdriver firmly in her hand. Risked a look round the corner.
The walls were lined with shelves containing canned food, cartons of milk, bottles of water. It was like a survivalist’s larder. In the centre of the space, a figure was kneeling down, hammering nails into wood. Marina looked closer, tried to work out what was being made.
There were huge squares of wood, metal mesh. The wood was being turned into frames, the mesh covering the frames. Marina was chilled by something more than just cold. She knew what was being made.
A cage. A cage for her.
She gave a gasp. Involuntary, unplanned. Cursing herself for doing it.
The figure stopped hammering, looked up.
He smiled. It wasn’t pleasant.
‘Hello,’ he said. ‘Welcome to your new home.’
82
The baby had been taken to hospital in an ambulance. The paramedics had given her a cursory examination and decided she was quite well, considering, but really needed full nursing care. Graeme Eades would be contacted.
Anni was sitting on the step, looking out towards the beach, her coat pulled tight round her, a blanket over that.
Phil sat down next to her.
‘Hey,’ he said.
She nodded, kept staring straight ahead.
‘Well done in there,’ he said.
She sighed. ‘I lied.’
‘You did what you had to do. What was best.’
She shook her head. ‘I lied to a vulnerable, damaged human being. I just made someone who’s lonely and fucked in the head feel even worse about themselves.’
‘You did your job, Anni.’
She didn’t reply, just continued to stare.
‘You coming back inside?’
She didn’t reply at first. ‘I think I’ll stay here a bit longer. If you don’t mind, boss.’
‘Okay.’ Phil stood up, looked round. Took in the desolation of the place once again. He looked across the field the way they had come, passing his eyes over the caravan site. Who would want to come here for their holidays? he thought, not for the first time.
>
Something jarred within him.
The caravan site.
‘Anni…’
She looked up.
‘When you checked the details on the Croft family, didn’t it say something about owning a caravan site?’
Anni looked up, startled out of her reflective mood. ‘Yeah, yes it did…’ She stood up, joined him in looking. ‘D’you think…’
‘Worth a try,’ he said. ‘Tell the rest of them where I’m going. If I find anything I’ll come back, let you know.’
He picked up his torch, started hurrying across the field.
Marina started to back away from the man. She held the screwdriver out in front of her.
‘Don’t…’ Her throat felt dry, parched. Her voice small, croaking. ‘Don’t come any nearer… I’ll… I’ll stab you…’ The words sounded unconvincing, even to her.
The man smiled again. Shook his head. ‘No you won’t.’ His voice sounded like he looked: rough, callused, feral and powerful. He was tall, his body thick-limbed and bulky. Dressed in old suit trousers, braces and a once-white shirt with the sleeves rolled up, he was sweating and dirty. Work boots on his feet, an old, festering overcoat on the floor beside him. He was bald, but his thick, powerful arms were covered in hair. He had a large stomach protruding over his trousers and straining his shirt buttons, but it looked as solid as granite. He turned, giving Marina his full attention. His eyes looked like dark, stagnant, treacherous pools, his unshaven face red like bad blood. He smiled, his teeth yellow and stained.
‘It’s… it’s you, isn’t it? You’re the one who’s been taking all the… all the babies…’
‘That idiot bitch of mine. She wanted them. Wouldn’t fuckin’ shut up about it. On an’ on… so I had to. Kept her quiet.’ He smiled again. It reached those stagnant eyes. ‘Can’t say I didn’t enjoy it, though.’