by Maggie James
‘Sheesh. Are you always this blunt?’ Daniel drained his drink. ‘You’re right. There’s a catch. I feel so damned furious about the whole thing. Part of it is the fact my family’s so great. The woman who kidnapped me deprived me of twenty-two years of being with them. My mother went through hell because of what happened. And the life I got thrust into – well, let’s say it wasn’t always the proverbial rose bed.’
‘She treated you badly? The woman who took you?’
‘No. She didn’t. My stepfather was a total prick, however. Plus, I lost my girlfriend when the truth came out.’
‘Listen.’ Annie’s tone was firm. ‘Don’t get me wrong. I have no idea what happened between you and your stepfather and I’m sorry you broke up with your girlfriend. I’m not going to mince words here, though. Girlfriends come and go. If you split up over this…’ She shrugged. ‘Well, perhaps it wasn’t meant to be. As for your stepfather, well, all the Scotch and screwing around in the world can’t change that. It’s in the past, and you have to find a way to deal with things.’
‘Ouch.’ Daniel gave her a pained smile. ‘You were right. You don’t mince your words, do you?’
Annie slammed her glass down. ‘You had something precious taken from you. Now you have it back. So don’t dwell on the other stuff. Focus on what you do have.’ She leaned in closer. ‘Some people get what matters most to them taken away, and they don't ever get a chance to get it back. You’re one of the lucky ones, believe me.’
25
MUMMY’S HERE
The walk up to Clifton took less time than I’d anticipated; in my desperation to take Daniel, I walked much faster than usual, arriving hot and sweating outside the flat. I held on to the wall, taking deep breaths. All the saliva had drained from my mouth, leaving it desert dry, and I yearned for some water.
I walked off around the block to regain some measure of control, doing my best to avoid other people. I crossed the road if I saw anybody and I stuck to darker, tree-lined streets. I didn’t hurry; I wanted to appear calm in case anyone did see me. In my jeans and hooded jacket, I looked nondescript anyway; no one would be able to give an accurate description of me, or so I hoped.
By the time I arrived back at the flat, I’d managed to get a grip on myself. My mouth was still dry, but my legs didn’t shake as much; I felt better inside my head about what I intended to do. I walked slowly past and round the corner, where I could see the door of the flat through the trees overhanging the passageway.
I stood for a while, waiting, and then I got handed my chance.
The door opened, and the nanny came out, shutting it behind her. She walked up the passageway and turned right, towards the rank of shops.
To my amazement, she didn’t have Daniel with her.
She must have left my little boy all alone in the flat, whilst she went out for God knows what. Wrong, so wrong. My duty was clear; taking Daniel from such a neglectful environment would be the right thing, the only thing, to do. The nanny’s negligence had dispelled all fear, all worries. My nerves had never been steadier, all tension gone. I was ready.
I was sure no one else would be in the flat; she’d never mentioned bringing a friend along when she babysat and I knew from things she’d said she didn’t have a boyfriend. Besides, I’d do what I’d already planned. I’d open the door a fraction, and check out the flat before I entered, in case anyone was still there.
I figured the nanny had probably gone to get a takeaway or something and that I didn’t have much time. I went round to the steps leading down to the passageway, slipped off my shoes, and put on the cheap ones I'd bought. I daren’t risk any footprints from my trainers; I’d switch shoes later and ditch the other ones. I padded softly down the steps, taking the rucksack with me and leaving the pushchair hidden behind the dustbin.
I walked to the front door, keys in hand. I took a final deep breath, and inserted the Chubb key in the lock, carefully turning it.
Next, the Yale one. I edged the door open, slowly and just enough to look inside the flat.
All the doors were closed, and the flat had an empty atmosphere to it. Nobody was there, except for my Daniel. I went inside.
I pushed open the door to Daniel’s room, and there he was, asleep and looking adorable, and I moved swiftly to the side of the bed. I didn’t want to frighten him in any way and had to count on my face already being familiar to him. I dug under the duvet, scooping my hands underneath him and lifting him up as he started to come awake, and wrapped the blanket from the rucksack around him.
‘Everything’s all right, darling. Mummy’s here,’ I whispered in his ear, his hair soft and wonderful against my cheek. He smelled of bubble bath, shampoo and sleep and I held him to me, revelling in being able to cuddle him for the very first time.
I moved quickly, striding down the hallway, through the front door and into the evening air with my precious bundle heavy in my arms. I deliberately left the door open to give the impression the nanny had left it unlocked. Daniel had hardly stirred and he lay, still half-asleep, with his head against my shoulder. I dragged out the pushchair, pulling it open with one hand and carefully lowering Daniel down. I pulled the blanket around him, tucking his feet in and making him as warm as possible. He relaxed into the pushchair, asleep again.
Time to get as far away as possible. I slung the rucksack onto my back, hauled the pushchair up the steps and rounded the corner. I started to walk towards the Triangle, my destination the bus station. I’d decided Daniel and I would travel to London by bus. Not only would it cost less, but also because Bristol’s bus station was rundown and grimy and I figured the chances would be high of any security cameras not working, if they even existed. I had my nondescript clothing and big hood to help conceal my identity as well.
Before long, I arrived at the bus station, hot and breathless again. My first priority had to be getting Daniel dressed properly; I didn’t dare take the risk of anyone noticing he still wore his pyjamas, even under the blanket. I found the toilets and prayed I could do this OK. It meant waking Daniel up, and that worried me.
‘Come on, sweetheart. Let’s get you dressed. We’re going on a big adventure, you and me.’ I pulled him gently upwards, and saw his eyes begin to open, still thick with sleep. He stared at me, his gaze unfocused. I stroked his hair reassuringly.
‘You know me, darling, don’t you?’ I smiled lovingly at him.
He nodded. ‘Lady who brings me juice. I like you.’
I pulled the clothes I’d brought for him out of the rucksack, and gently stood him on his feet. He balled his fists and rubbed his eyes, and he was so utterly endearing; I reached for him and pulled him against me, hugging him tight.
‘My boy. My beautiful Daniel,’ I murmured into his ear. My words seemed to reassure him. He had no fear in his eyes as he looked up at me. I couldn’t have borne it if I’d seen distress in his face. My Daniel had nothing to be frightened of with me. I started to pull off his pyjamas. He didn’t resist in any way as I put on his clothes and shoes. I got him to use the toilet; then he let me sit him in the pushchair and strap him in.
We were ready.
I wheeled him back out onto the concourse. It was now eight ten. The next bus left at eight twenty. Perfect. I bought the tickets, along with sandwiches and juice for both of us. Hunger was gnawing at me; I’d not eaten since lunchtime, what with nerves knotting my stomach and having to get everything ready.
I pushed Daniel over to a seat, pulled the plastic wrapper off one of the sandwiches and broke off a piece. ‘Here, my love,’ I said, proffering it towards Daniel. He put it in his mouth, smearing egg and mayonnaise around his lips, and the sight was simply wonderful. I smiled adoringly at him as I ate my own sandwich.
‘Where’re we going?’ he lisped at me through a mouthful of food.
‘On a big adventure, darling. Isn’t that exciting?’ The trust implicit in the solemn nod he gave me tore at my love for him.
I stowed the pushchair, boarded the
bus and took the first two available seats. Eight twenty had already come and gone. The bus driver was in his seat, doing something with some paperwork, and I prayed for him to get a move on. Every minute counted, every second took Daniel and me closer to the flat in Bromley, closer to our new life. By now, the nanny would have returned and found Daniel missing. She would have alerted the police. I had no pity for her. She’d gone out and left a four-year-old child alone and I figured she deserved every moment of the anguish she must be going through right now.
We were so nearly there. Once the bus rolled out of the station, I’d be able to relax.
At eight twenty-five, the driver started the engine, and began to reverse from the concourse. We were London-bound at last.
I let out the breath I’d been holding. Daniel was asleep again, small snuffles escaping his lips, his noises reminding me of the sounds my sleeping baby used to make, all those years ago.
Fate, if it did exist, was definitely on my side that night. Few passengers had chosen such a late departure; that meant less potential witnesses. Daniel slept most of the time, waking up occasionally to eat more of his sandwich, but never doing anything that would draw attention to us, thank God. I even managed to doze a little along the way, my eyes lulled shut by the dullness of the M4 corridor in the glare of the motorway lights.
We arrived at Victoria bus station right on time. I undid my own and Daniel’s seat belts and pulled his unresisting body, warm from sleep, into my arms.
‘We’re here, darling. And there’s more of the adventure to come.’ I dreaded the journey across London towards Bromley, what with having to change Tube lines and wait for the night bus. It was already after eleven o’clock. I grabbed the pushchair from the hold, and sat Daniel in it, strapping him in. Chocolate might be a good idea. There was a vending machine nearby, and I bought a bar of Dairy Milk, breaking off a piece for Daniel and taking a chunk for myself.
Time to pull my hood up again. I walked out of Victoria Coach Station into the cold London night, heading towards the Tube. I broke off more pieces of chocolate as I hurried along, leaning down into the pushchair to press them into Daniel’s eager fingers.
I hated every minute of travelling across London, cursing the fact Victoria and Bromley were so far apart, wondering why the hell London was so expensive I’d had to go to Bromley to rent anything vaguely affordable. Bless Daniel; he was a little angel, sleeping as the night bus hurtled towards Bromley, faint smears of chocolate around his lips. I kept my gaze on the grimy floor of the bus, avoiding eye contact with the other passengers, praying for the driver to go faster.
Eventually we arrived at Bromley. I pushed Daniel’s chair as quickly as possible, my body getting hot under my jacket, the growing heat contrasting with the cool night air as I strode along. We went past the school where I intended to enrol him as my son Daniel Mark Covey; I realised I had no idea what my boy’s former surname had been. It didn’t matter. He had my name now, the birth certificate, safe in my rucksack, proof to the world he was mine.
At last, we got to the door of the flat. I took the keys from my pocket, hands trembling, and fumbled for the lock. Then we were inside. I was desperate for sleep, warm and safe with Daniel in my arms.
‘Come on, darling. Let’s get you into bed.’ I stripped him quickly out of his clothes, replacing them with his pyjamas. He sat on the edge of the bed, rubbing his eyes, a bewildered look on his face. I knelt down in front of him, my fingers stroking his arms reassuringly through the fabric of his pyjamas.
‘It’s all right, darling. You know who I am, don’t you? You’re safe with me.’ I gathered him close. ‘Mummy’s here, my love.’ I pulled back to look at him. I hated the confusion on his face. He was so young, I told myself. He’d forget what he’d known before, and get used to me, and we’d be so happy. I had my Daniel with me again, and everything was now perfect in my world. Maybe I did believe in Fate after all.
‘Come on, sweetie-pie. Let’s clean your teeth.’ I was tempted to crawl straight into bed with him, but a responsible mother wouldn’t send her son to bed with chocolate on his teeth.
Daniel brushed his teeth like a good boy, and I did my own, and washed my face, then led my beautiful son back into the bedroom.
‘You’re going to sleep with Mummy tonight, darling,’ I told him. ‘Just for one night, and then you can sleep in your very own room. I’ve made everything as nice as I can for you. I’ll show you tomorrow, and we’ll play together, with all the lovely toys I’ve bought for you.’ I leaned over and kissed him.
He gazed at me, still with an expression of bewilderment on his face.
‘Mummy?’ His voice sounded shaky, unsure. ‘I want my mummy.’
‘Mummy’s here, sweetheart.’ I hugged him tightly. ‘I love you, Daniel. And I’m never going to leave you. Never.’
26
TYING UP LOOSE ENDS
‘Don’t dwell on the other stuff. Focus on what you do have.’ Annie’s words, thrown at him with such conviction, had stuck in Daniel’s mind, after he’d left the bar without the pick-up he went for. Sassy, that Annie woman, he thought; not short on plain speaking. To his surprise, he found himself doing what she’d advised. He’d spent far fewer sessions on the booze, less time obsessing over his anger concerning the loss of Katie, being denied his art. He was elbowing his recent self-absorption out of his life, he realised, passing his free hours outside work with his parents and grandparents, soaking up the novelty of being with his family.
Yeah. Concentrating on what he did have was good. Annie, bless her, had been right.
One thing was missing, though. A lost piece to slot into place. The need to find it had brought him to Bristol today. To this particular house.
He checked the time. Two o'clock, almost certainly too early. A small park opposite had a few benches on which to wait. From there, he had a clear view of the house in case anybody turned up. Specifically, Alison Souter. His nanny with the swinging dark hair.
He’d never harboured any resentment towards her, despite what both Katie and his mother thought. OK, she shouldn’t have left him alone, but the part of his memory where she lived, forever young and laughing and tossing a ball to him, retained a deep affection for her. No way did he hate her. Some need was driving him to find her; she formed part of the jigsaw puzzle of his life and the piece with her picture on was missing. Alison Souter was a loose end he needed to tie up.
Nobody knew what had become of her after the kidnapping. Daniel did the necessary digging, without telling anyone at first what he planned to do; his findings had led him to this shabby house in a rundown area of Bristol.
He wondered what life had been like for her after the kidnap. She hadn't been much more than a kid, after all; and she must have taken a lot of criticism from all sides. His mother had experienced guilt strong enough to make her slash her wrists; what dark emotions had Alison Souter gone through back then, once she understood the role she’d played in enabling Laura Covey to snatch him?
The wait ended up stretching to over three hours; she must be at work, he thought. Eventually he spotted a woman walking down the street towards the house. A petite woman with dark hair who appeared to be in her early forties, the age Alison Souter would be. She unlocked the door and went inside.
Daniel walked over and rang the bell. Seconds later, the door opened; he looked into the face of his former nanny, and another piece of the jigsaw clicked into place. The same certainty as he’d experienced when reunited with his mother hit him in the gut.
‘Do you know who I am?’ he asked.
She didn’t speak, staring at him with a gaze he couldn't fathom. Then she nodded.
Daniel stepped past her into the hall and then the front room. Alison Souter followed him, and they gazed at each other for a moment. Then Daniel held out his arms and she ran towards him.
He pulled back to look at her, as she fumbled in her coat pocket for a tissue. Still the same dark hair, cut in a shoulder-length bob, greyin
g now at the sides; her features were less familiar to him, her face in his memory being too indistinct. She'd been pretty, no doubt about that; and still was, in a way, but an air of self-neglect clung to her. Bare skin, devoid of make-up; baggy clothes in dull don't-notice-me shades; no jewellery of any kind. Her expression spoke of unhappiness. A stab of sadness twisted in him at the contrast between this woman before him and the carefree girl of so long ago.
She wiped her eyes. ‘I heard about it on the television. They said you’d been found, safe and well. Such incredible news. I’d always hoped…I wondered whether I’d be able to see you. I didn’t know how to get in touch with you, though, or if you’d want anything to do with me, after what I did.’
‘I needed to come. I’ve never forgotten you. You’ve always been part of my life, even when I didn’t remember exactly who you were, didn’t realise the truth of what happened to me.’
‘How did you find me?’
‘Electoral register. Not difficult, once I managed to get your full name. I could have asked the police family liaison officer to help, I suppose, but to be honest I preferred not to. He’s been great, especially with Mum, but I wanted to track you down myself.’
‘I imagine I wouldn’t be hard to find. I’ve never married or moved away from Bristol.’
‘Even if you had, I'd have found you somehow. I needed to see you again.’
‘I've searched for you every day since, you know. That's why I've never left Bristol. I thought perhaps, if you were alive, you might still be here. I used to stare into young boys' faces, hoping one day to see yours. I wanted to be the one who found you, to help put right the terrible wrong I did.’
‘I’ve never blamed you for what happened. No, really,’ Daniel continued, seeing the look of disbelief on her face. ‘You’re one of my earliest memories, and one that helped lead me to the truth of what happened. I remember you in the back garden playing ball with me. I can still picture how your hair used to swing about as you moved. It’s a distant memory, but I’ve always carried it with me. Always treasured it.’