by Maggie James
I thought of nothing else. I didn’t have much in my life. All I had that meant something to me were the times when I saw Daniel, and the way he filled all my thoughts. He’d become my whole world. In three short months, he’d be taken from me and I’d have nothing left.
Life was screwing with me again. It had given me my beautiful baby and then snatched him away from me. Now it intended to do the same thing all over again, and I swore to myself I wouldn’t let that happen.
The answer didn’t come to me for a while. I’d been turning things over in my mind and getting nowhere, my desperation growing all the time. I thought of moving to London, but I had no guarantee of getting a job or a place to live that would enable me to see my boy. I had no idea what his future nanny would do on a daily basis that would mean I’d get to spend time with him.
His nanny. They’d be palming him off on some new woman. She might be the strict type. At the thought of somebody smacking my Daniel, I reached breaking point.
No. Enough was enough.
The idea came to me then, and took root and grew.
The details could come later. I didn’t know how I’d accomplish what I’d decided. It was the only solution, though.
My Daniel deserved a loving mother and I would give that to him. I’d take him away from Bristol and let the huge anonymity of London cover our tracks and swallow us up.
Yes, Daniel would be going to London.
He wouldn’t be going with his undeserving parents, though.
He’d be going with me.
22
BANGLES AND BITTERNESS
‘These ones are set with turquoise. Those, they’re with amber. I prefer silver to work with. I like its coolness.’ Sarah Cordwell held up the bangle she’d been working on, its chunkiness a sharp reminder of Katie. Daniel remembered she’d told him she’d got a lot of her jewellery from her sister, but he’d assumed at the time she'd meant they’d been bought for her as presents. Now, standing in his mother’s workshop the day after their reunion, he realised where they’d come from.
He rubbed his thumb over the stones. ‘Seems like I have a very talented lady for a mother.’
Sarah Cordwell laughed. ‘We’re a creative family. Your father – well, he’ll show you later. Woodworking’s his thing. Not much he can’t do with the right wood and those old hand tools he insists beat modern ones any day. He made that big kitchen table and the matching chairs – yes, he did,’ seeing Daniel’s look of disbelief. ‘Katie, well, she’s pretty artistic too, at least until she started her doctor training. Then she didn’t have time for anything apart from studying.’ His mother smiled fondly. ‘She took sculpture classes and found she really liked working with stone. Turned out some lovely pieces, she did, mostly heads and figures, as I recall.’
Daniel thought of the small reclining nude on top of Katie’s bookcase, of the cool caress and simple lines of the stone. He’d admired it when she was making coffee one day, intending to ask her where she’d bought it, but then she’d come in looking delicious enough to eat and the question never got asked. Now he realised she had probably carved the piece herself. The family’s creative genes had delivered Katie to him on a sacrificial platter the day she came to browse through the Balinese sculptures in his shop. A woman who turned out to be forbidden territory, all because of their shared DNA.
He’d emailed her the night before, mentioning the proposed joint party, and saying he didn’t think they’d be able to avoid meeting again.
Her reply had been brief and to the point. ‘I agree.’
Then another email, five minutes later. ‘I miss you like hell. We’re doing the right thing, though.’
His mother was talking again. ‘I started doing this a couple of years after it happened, as a hobby at first, and then as a part-time business. I had to give up work after your abduction. No way could I carry on. I’d been such a career woman, so sure I’d end up as the best sales manager in the company. Looking back, I can’t think why I ever believed that was important. Nothing else mattered after you were taken.’
‘I can’t imagine what my kidnap must have been like for you.’
‘Both your father and I endured sheer hell, Daniel. Time went on and the leads didn’t seem to go anywhere. I could see in the eyes of the police officers dealing with the case that they were losing hope. I don’t blame them. They worked themselves into the ground trying to find you, but without clues or witnesses it all seemed impossible. The guilt ate away at me, all day, every day.’
She wiped away a tear. ‘Logically I knew Howard and I should be able to enjoy an evening out together – God above, what with his career and mine we didn’t get to spend a great deal of time with each other – but I still thought myself the worst mother in the world. I gave myself an incredibly hard time for not being more thorough with choosing a nanny. She was so young, fresh out of college, but she really took to you and you to her. I thought everything would be fine. I hated her for what happened but I loathed myself even more.’
Daniel flinched inside at the raw emotion in her voice. ‘It wasn’t your fault. You decided to enjoy an evening out, and why not? I don’t doubt the nanny has suffered huge guilt herself. She’ll find out soon enough about all this, anyway. The story’s made the papers already. Front-page news. Spotted the headlines when I bought those flowers for you.’
‘Did you read what the papers said?’ His mother’s rising voice betrayed her concern. ‘I hope the police are right and that the media will respect our privacy. Last thing I want is some tabloid hack pounding on the door, asking inane questions about how I feel about getting my son back. Like I’d be able to put something so miraculous into words.’
‘I didn’t read what they said, no. The police liaison officer told me he’d emphasised very strongly to them the need to stay away from us, at least at first. We may need to give a brief press conference soon, though. Keep them off our backs. Listen, none of what happened was your fault.’
‘I’ve never allowed myself to believe that, in spite of what your father’s always told me. I didn’t think I’d ever experience happiness again. Everything else in my life, the job, the company car, seemed so pointless. I was walled around with grief and unable to let Howard in, even though I wanted to.’
Daniel sensed they were leading up to the bad place in his mother’s life, where she’d grown so desperate that letting her blood drain into a bath of hot water became a blessed release. He thought back to a time, years before, buried deep inside. His mother’s despair mirrored how his life had turned into hell for him as a teenager, how he’d nearly succumbed to the seduction of killing himself. Suicide had beckoned him, its appeal being the freedom it promised. Empathy moved him to take hold of her wrists and trace his fingers over the scars.
‘I went into a very dark place, Daniel. Wasn’t able to find my way back.’ Her voice trailed off for a while and she wiped away more tears. ‘Your father hadn't realised how bad I’d got. Afterwards, though…well, he was so strong, and when I got better, I tried to give something back to him. He was hurting too; he’d lost you and nearly ended up without me as well, yet he still found the strength to help me with my grief. I felt humbled when I understood what kind of a husband I’d married. I always knew him to be a good, solid man, but he proved it beyond all doubt in the months after I was hospitalised. We’re lucky to have him in our lives, my love.’
‘I can’t wait to get to know him.’
‘No time like the present. He’s down the bottom of the garden, in what used to be one of the garages. We converted the second one into a workshop for him years ago. He’d spend days in there, sawing and sanding, if I didn’t rescue him with food and cups of tea from time to time.’ His mother laughed. ‘You go and check on him. I want to call Mum and Katie anyway.’
Howard Cordwell was smoothing some wood, his hands working the sandpaper slowly and rhythmically, as Daniel entered his father's workshop.
‘Decided to come and take a look at what I
do to relax? I’m surprised your mother let you go.’ His voice teased Daniel. ‘She’s – well, I don’t think I’ve ever seen her happier, apart from the day you were born.’
‘When was I born?’ It sounded like a strange question. ‘The birth certificate I have, well, it’s obviously not mine so neither is the birth date.’
‘March 3rd, 1986. Best day of my life, too.’
‘Wow.’ Daniel shook his head. Not only did he have a new name to get used to, but he was also three months younger than he’d always thought. ‘It’s going to take a while to wrap my head around all this.’
‘It will for all of us, Daniel. We have time, though. You’re back with us now, and that’s like a miracle for your mother and me.’ He squeezed Daniel's shoulder. ‘I thought so often, over the years, of getting that phone call, of the police saying you’d been found alive and well. I never believed it would really happen. And then when Sarah called me at work, told me the police had phoned and were on their way over, well, I could hardly grasp what she was saying; she was laughing and crying and not making sense.’
‘I missed having a father growing up. A real father, something my stepfather never turned out to be. The woman who took me – well, I wonder. Did she ever think of the devastation she caused?’ Daniel thought of the scars on his mother’s wrists. He thought back to the dark time of his teenage years. ‘Why the hell did she abduct me?’
His father shook his head. ‘We may never find out. Whilst you were with your mother in her workshop – she’s got an amazing talent, don’t you think? – I took a call from the family liaison officer. He said Laura Bateman isn’t talking. Not at all, not to the police, her lawyer, or even her husband. They’re bringing in psychiatrists to assess her mental state.’
Daniel snorted. He’d not allow the bitch the slightest leeway on this. ‘She always did suffer some issues that way, whether genuine or not, I can’t say. Probably all an act. She’ll ramp up the mentally disordered bit, so she can get off more lightly.’ Daniel heard the bitterness in his voice. ‘She kidnapped me when I was tiny and kept me from my family all these years. She lied to me, about who my father was, who I was, everything. She’s an evil woman and she won’t hesitate to do what she has to in order to protect herself.’
‘Are you so sure, son? Your mother says the same as you, but me, I’m not so certain. Think, Daniel. She took you as a small child, raising you as her own. To me, her actions indicate she had to be healing some hurt in her own life. There’s the birth certificate, the one that isn’t yours. What happened to her child? Did she lose a son and try to replace him with you?’ Howard Cordwell took hold of Daniel by the arms, forcing him to return his gaze. ‘Perhaps she deserves our sympathy, not our judgement.’
Daniel looked away, unable to comprehend his father's apparent compassion. ‘She kidnapped me. Took me away from my family. To say I didn’t have an easy time growing up, well, that’s an understatement. Think about Mum, too. I’ve seen the scars, heard her talk about what it was like for her. I can’t forgive that woman. There’s no reason good enough to explain, or excuse, what she did. None.’
His father moved away, running his hand over the smooth wood lying on the workbench. ‘Well, you might think differently about things in time. Now, let me show you what I’m working on here.’
Daniel spent the rest of the morning with his father, wrapped up in the heady experience of being with the man who had given him half his DNA. His grandparents came over again in the afternoon, the warm ebullience of India Trebasco stabbing him once more with poignant reminders of Katie. He dragged himself away late in the evening, mindful of work the next day, his mother’s reluctance to part with him echoing in his thoughts all the way back.
Tim was still up when he got home. They hadn’t seen each other for a couple of days, his flatmate having been away with work. Daniel had texted him the afternoon before to tell him the DNA results and about the imminent reunion with his family.
‘Dan! Been waiting for you, mate. Come on; spill the beans. How did you get on, meeting your parents again?’
Daniel sat down opposite him. ‘My family – they’re great, Tim. Mum and Dad are everything I’d hoped they’d be. I’ve met my grandparents too, and they’re wonderful as well.’
His tone of voice didn’t match his words; besides, he’d shared a flat with Tim for too long to fool him. ‘I'm sensing a fly lurking in the ointment, Dan?’
‘Yeah. Sort of.’
‘Which is?’
‘They’re all so talented. You should see what my father does with wood. He turns out furniture, incredible pieces, just perfect. Mum, too – she makes amazing jewellery. Got her own workshop.’
‘And that would be a problem – why?’
‘Because I can’t help thinking how different my life would have been if I’d never been taken from them. I'm talking about my art.’
‘You mean you’d have got more encouragement?’
‘Yes. Exactly. I always wanted to do an art degree; never even thought about studying anything else. I got saddled with a stepfather who despised anything creative, though. Got told art was for no-hopers. He denied me the chance to go to college, when painting was all I’d ever wanted to do.’
‘I can understand that must rankle a bit.’
‘Yeah, it does. I can’t tell you how fantastic it is to be with my family again, Tim, but I’m bitter. Why did this have to happen to me? I might be putting on gallery exhibitions and making my living as an artist if I’d never been kidnapped. Instead I landed a job peddling marble Buddhas in some rich woman’s play shop.’
‘Being resentful about this won’t help, Dan. OK, so you’d probably have gone to college, as you always wanted, I grant you. Does anyone make a living from art these days, though? Don't kid yourself. Perhaps you’d have still ended up with the marble Buddhas.’
‘Yeah, well. Like you say, who knows?’ The truth behind his flatmate’s words irritated Daniel. He stood up. ‘I’m going to take a shower, go out. I need to hit the clubs. Check out who I can pull.’
‘Thought you’d given up on all the screwing around.’
‘So did I. Looks like we were both wrong.’
Time to find out if fucking things out of his system worked better than drink. He wouldn't be hunting women tonight; he couldn’t go there yet, not so soon after Katie. No, he needed a man to fuck, mindless sex to smooth over her loss and wipe away the emotional trauma that accompanied the discovery of being Daniel Cordwell, abductee and failed artist.
He’d find himself a willing male body and with his looks that shouldn’t take long, and they’d go back to wherever the guy lived, and he’d fuck him through the mattress, hard as hell. Down through the floor, too, and in doing so he’d be symbolically fucking all the crap out of his life. For one night, anyway.
23
HATCHING PLANS
I had the keys to the flat. Now I had to find the right opportunity.
I needed to arrange my new life in London as well, which meant finding a place to rent for Daniel and myself.
The next time I had a day off, I took the bus to London. Thankfully, I had the cushion of money from the sale of Gran’s house to tide me over for a while. My lack of income, until I got a part-time bookkeeping job, bothered me. I wouldn’t be able to afford much at London prices; I’d probably end up living somewhere run down, like my bedsit, a place few people would want to rent. Well, that didn’t matter; I’d learned some DIY skills whilst living with Gran, and hard work didn’t scare me.
I found nothing that day.
I went up again the next available day off I had. This time I widened my search, starting with the London train map – not being able to drive, living close to transport links was essential. The plan was to find somewhere a bit further out, where I hoped the prices would be more affordable. I checked out the last stops on the lines and found myself getting off the train at Bromley South.
It didn’t appear too bad a place. I looked in the est
ate agents’ windows. The prices still seemed high to me after the cheap rent I paid for the bedsit, but they were more in line with what I wanted. I did find one possibility, after quite a bit of searching. The flat was small, and above a fish and chip shop, but I didn’t mind that. It had the necessary two bedrooms and the rent was cheap. I went inside.
I had my story all sorted, telling the woman behind the desk I’d found a job nearby and planned to move to the area in the near future. I deliberately made no mention of Daniel; she had to think I wanted the flat for myself only.
‘The landlord’s allowed the place to get a little rundown,’ she said. ‘We can go over and view it straight away, if you want.’
Well, the flat was certainly shabby. Like my bedsit when I first moved in, I doubted anyone had got to work with any cleaning materials for a while, and the decor was tired and old-fashioned. The furniture, too. Strong whiffs of fried fish and vinegar assaulted my nostrils as I walked through the cramped rooms. No wonder the rent was so cheap; few people would choose to live in such a dump. None of that mattered to me. I didn’t care about the colour of the walls, and I’d scrub the hell out of everything else with bleach and disinfectant. The cost was affordable and being within walking distance of the local primary school and Bromley South train station made the flat perfect for my purposes. I’d found the ideal home for Daniel and me.
‘I’ll take it,’ I told the woman. ‘I’ll give you the deposit within the week, plus six months’ rent up front.’
That made me a gift horse, and she wasn’t going to look me in the mouth, not with the flat being in such a state.
I returned the following week, paid the money and got the keys. I also took as many of my belongings as possible, my photos of Daniel and Gran, her jewellery, my clothes and books. I left just enough stuff in the bedsit that would fit into a large rucksack. I wanted to be able to travel light when the time came.