I paced the house, thinking, thinking, always thinking what I could do. Should do. Eventually I got my bike out. I had been a champion cyclist in the old days. It had gone unused for so long that cobwebs hung across its burial place, out in the garage. It took me some time to retrieve it because it was so tightly wedged behind the heavy old lawnmower and some posh deckchairs we never used. The front tyre was a little flat; I pumped it up and then I rode the bike out onto the heath, cycling round and round in ever growing circles. It made me breathless; it made me want to fly from here, wind streaming through my hair, like I used to before I met Mickey. But I daren’t go too far. You never knew, Louis might be back at any minute now. I thought about cycling down the hills to Silver and asking what he was doing next to find my son.
And then Robbie rang. He called my mobile, and his voice was tremulous and distant. He sounded really strange.
‘I know what you’re thinking, Jess,’ he started, and I shook my head in sorrow. I sat astride my bike, and I sighed quite hard.
‘Do you, Rob?’
‘Yeah, and I haven’t. I swear I haven’t got him.’
‘D’you know what?’ I said slowly. ‘I think I believe you, Robbie, deep down I do. Only it doesn’t look good to all these coppers, know what I mean? Doing a bunk. It really doesn’t, mate. And they’ll find you, Rob, even if you don’t tell me where you are.’
He laughed unsteadily. ‘Yeah, well, that makes sense. But I wouldn’t—you have to believe me, I wouldn’t take him.’
I strained my ears, detective-like, for background noise, for a clue, but there was nothing discernible. ‘Where are you, Robbie? Are you with that—that girl?’ I couldn’t bring myself to say her name.
He laughed again, without feeling. ‘Yeah, I am, and that’s why we went. Cos of her old man.’
‘What? Her dad? I thought he was in France?’
‘Her boyfriend. Gorek. He’s nasty.’
It was my turn to laugh. ‘Oh, come on! You’re mixing with those tossers up in Soho, and you’re frightened of her bloke? Pull the other one.’
I thought I heard a mewing in the background. ‘What’s that noise, Robbie?’ I demanded. ‘Have you bought Maxine a love-kitten?’
He ignored me. ‘It’s true, Jess. It’s him the pigs wanna check out. He’s got a nasty temper. You should see her bruises.’
‘From what I hear, Robbie, from all that mess, it’s you who she—’
‘Jess,’ he intercepted brutally, ‘I’m sorry, yeah? I—’
‘What?’
‘I’m just—I’m really, really sorry.’ There was a tiny pause—I thought he’d hung up. ‘And look, Jess, if I do find out anything, I swear I’ll let you know, yeah?’
‘Robbie—’
It took me a second to realise that he’d gone. Wearily, I cycled home. As I rounded the corner past the bay-windowed pub, I saw Silver’s car outside my house. My heart pumped extra hard, my stomach rolled uneasily.
Silver looked fresh. He’d recovered himself now, was as shaved and fragrant as he’d ever been. He even smiled, though I wasn’t sure it reached those steady, hooded eyes. I told him what Robbie said; he raised an eyebrow as he leant against the kitchen worktop.
‘He could be telling the truth, I suppose. Gorek didn’t strike me as a particularly nice lad. But there is no reason for us to suspect him, no hard evidence at all. We’ll put a trace on Robbie’s call now.’
I brushed past Silver as I reached up to the cupboard to get a glass. My skin almost hurt where it had just touched his. ‘Did Deb offer you a drink?’ I asked courteously, like we were at a party.
‘Forget that.’ He turned me round, and I flinched from his hands. ‘Look at this.’ He shoved a brown envelope in front of me. A Polaroid of Louis’s smiling face; another one of him sitting propped in some baby seat, his double chin creased beautifully as he looked intently down at something he held, a dewdrop of dribble caught for all time, tumbling from his bottom lip.
‘Oh God.’ I staggered slightly as I gripped the photos. I felt like I was falling headfirst into Alice’s burrow, like Silver was the White Rabbit who led me through this insanity, always hurling me towards more madness. The shock was too much; tears flooded my eyes, and silently I wept. But I knew Louis was still alive, I really did. Whoever took these pictures had bought him things. He was dressed in clothes I’d never seen; he was playing with toys I didn’t choose. Whoever took these pictures loved my son. They’d brushed his silky hair so carefully; they’d taken time to make him smile.
Silver stepped towards me, and I stepped back.
‘Where—’ I sniffed hard. ‘Where did you get them?’
‘Bloody courier again. Picked up from a doorstep of a Knightsbridge shop this morning at dawn. Dropped at one courier firm, delivered to me by another.’ He looked at me and grinned that lopsided grin. ‘We’re closing in, Jess, I promise you. It won’t be long now.’ He rattled his keys in his trouser pocket, fishing out his mobile phone and tapping in a number.
‘We’ve managed to keep David Ross in a little longer—General, you know him as—again, in the light of Robbie’s disappearance. I have to say, though,’ he broke off as someone answered his call, then came back to me, hand over the receiver, ‘my gut feeling is the bastard’s not involved.’
Into the phone: ‘Kelly I want to speak to Gorek Patuk again. Find him.’
With a sinking feeling, I realised they were just going round and round in circles—like me up on the heath just now. It was down to me. I’d had enough. I was going to have to find my son myself.
*
In the early hours I woke, and it was so close in my room that I couldn’t get back to sleep. Eventually I slipped out of bed and went downstairs. I checked Louis’s website, and added the date: DAY TWELVE—it looked so stark in black and white. There was nothing new apart from a few postings from a weirdo or two, and a woman who posted every day now, whose husband had taken her children to Pakistan, rambling on and on about parental abduction. Nothing that would help me. I unlocked the kitchen door and breathed in deep, felt the stillness almost solid around me. Nothing in the garden moved, no breeze stirred, not a leaf. I felt stifled by the lack of air, by my longing, by the eternal wait. I leant against the door and closed my eyes. I felt that Louis was closer now; my son was near, I sensed it.
In the morning I sat by Mickey’s hospital bed. He wanted to know where my bruises had come from and I mumbled vaguely about General; I didn’t want to worry him unduly. I distracted him with copies of the pictures of Louis. Mickey smiled with huge relief, and stared at them.
‘I miss him terribly,’ he said quietly, tracing Louis’s face, and I loved him then for understanding what I felt. I felt our bond strengthen now; invisible but there. I told him about Maxine and Robbie, whom he’d never met. I muttered that I couldn’t believe my brother was involved, and Mickey squeezed my hand.
‘Sure, you might have to accept it, Jessica, however much you love your man there,’ he said. I hated the fact he could be right. Then he apologised again for not remembering more. ‘They say my memory will come back, they just don’t know when.’ He was doleful.
‘Are you looking forward to coming home?’ I said, with a buoyancy I didn’t quite feel, and I thought I caught a flicker around his mending eye. He looked away.
‘It’s just—Louis, not being there,’ he muttered, and I had a nasty feeling he might cry. My mind scrabbled round in panic.
‘It’ll be fine,’ I said, falsely bright, ‘he’ll be home soon.’ If only I believed my own words. ‘Like you. And I should let you rest now, shouldn’t I? I need to get on anyway. You know, check the—the police reports and things.’ I fiddled nervously with the flowers on his bedside table. I still found it so hard to face his emotion. An uneasy feeling kept pounding through my exhausted head again and again: Without the sex, without my son, what actually existed between Mickey and me?
He grabbed my hand, pinching the skin painfully. I pulled back and
frowned, rubbing my sore fingers.
‘Ouch! That hurt, Mickey.’
‘I wanted to tell you. About Agnes,’ he muttered, ‘I think she’s in town.’ He cleared his throat. ‘I think she tried to see me when I was out.’
‘Out?’ I said blankly.
‘Unconscious.’ He was impatient now. An icy claw crawled across my gut. I stuck a spiky dahlia behind a bit of green stuff.
‘I saw her,’ I mumbled.
‘What?’ His mouth set hard and cruel, like it did when I said something stupid in company.
‘I saw her.’ I was defiant; I had to be. ‘She’s very beautiful, isn’t she? I wanted to know why she’d seen you. I did ask you the—the other night.’ It came out in a rush. Before I nearly fucked you senseless, when I was mad, I didn’t add, staring at my feet like a naughty child.
‘Did you? I don’t remember. And I don’t remember seeing her either.’ He looked hard at me, and his eyes were very dark, and glittered, as if he had a fever still. ‘And so?’
‘She said you had a love like no other. I don’t know. Some bollocks like that. I didn’t like her, Mickey.’ Steadily I met his look.
‘No, well,’ he was first to drop his eyes. ‘Why would you?’ He sighed, a rattling sigh full of self-pity. A large nurse with a fat, shiny face bustled in, followed by the consultant with tiny ears, and behind him a sweaty porter with a wheelchair.
‘I’m sorry, Mrs Finnegan,’ Noddy said cheerfully, and I was sure one little ear twitched, ‘but it’s time for us to take over. We need to do a final MRI, a scan, you know, before we can release him into your loving arms.’ They started to wheel Mickey out.
‘I’d say just one thing, Jessica,’ Mickey murmured as he passed me. ‘Don’t trust my ex.’
‘What do you mean?’ I called urgently, but the lift had swallowed him already. His consultant smiled at me benevolently from the door.
‘The sooner we get on, the sooner you’ll have him home,’ and then he was gone too. I was left alone in the funereal room. Picking up my jacket from the chair, I dislodged the Harrods Food Halls bags Pauline had crammed with goodies for Mickey when she last visited. They fell like green and gold dominoes at my feet. I stared at them.
‘Knightsbridge.’ I smacked my forehead with my hand. ‘Bloody Knightsbridge.’ The photos of Louis left in a shop doorway. How could I have been so dense? I thought of missing Maxine and her penchant for uniform—the uniform in particular of a Harrods doorman. I ran out of that hospital like I was Linford Christie.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
DS Kelly met Deb and me down in Greenwich, near the language school. We had no idea if Gorek would be there; they’d tried to bring him in last night but apparently there’d been no sign of him in the house he shared in New Cross, although they’d rounded up two of his brothers.
Silver came running up the stairs from the school, chewing almost fanatically.
‘Do you want to wait inside, Kelly? His mates say they’re expecting him, but I’m not so sure.’ Silver twisted the spearmint wrapper in his hand and checked his watch. ‘Let’s get a quick coffee next door.’
‘Sir.’ Deb muttered something in his ear. He grinned at her. ‘Of course. See you in—what?’ He checked the time again. ‘Thirty minutes?’
I followed him into the greasy spoon. A patrol car and three uniformed coppers sat outside the school. My coffee was so hot I scalded my tongue.
‘I’ll say this for you, Jess.’ He put sugar in his tea. ‘You’re nothing if not diligent.’
‘Any mother would be, surely?’
‘Shock affects people very differently.’
The past twelve days streamed through my head. I flinched at the image of myself in the hospital after all those pills; I was truly ashamed I’d been so weak.
‘You mustn’t be so hard on yourself.’
I stared at him. ‘Are you a mind-reader too now?’
He smiled. ‘No, but I know that guilt is every parent’s first emotion—and that’s when everything’s fine and dandy. And women feel it worse than men, I’d hazard a guess?’
His phone blipped.
‘Yes?’ He winked at me as he listened, before chucking the phone back on the table. ‘They’ve nearly caught up with Gorek. He was with his wife and daughter in Bow this morning.’
‘Any sign of—’
He placed his hand over mine where it was curled desperately around the coffee cup. I’d forgotten for a moment just how hot the china was. ‘No sign, no. And apparently he got the sack from Harrods days ago. So it’s unlikely he’d have been in Knightsbridge anyway.’
I swallowed hard. I tried to make light of my latest disappointment. ‘Wife? Blimey. I wonder if Maxine knew?’
‘Would she have cared if she did?’
I shrugged. ‘Probably not.’
He picked up his phone again; my hand felt suddenly naked where his fingers had been. ‘I’ve got to get on, Jess.’
‘Okay.’
Deb was outside the window now, waving, a carrier from the local chemist in her hand. She took me home.
The evening was balmy, more comfortable at last. Out in the garden with Shirl and Leigh, we opened a bottle of Mickey’s expensive wine. Shirl had lit a huge spliff, long legs resting on the tabletop; Leigh, carefully re-tanned, painstakingly painted her nails a seashell sort of pink, splaying her fingers periodically to admire them. I fiddled with my newly washed hair, put it up, took it down again. With some apprehension I was about to bring up the ex, the perfect Agnes, to seek a bit of female advice and solidarity, when the news came.
Deb appeared from the porch steps; immediately, I noticed the vein throbbing beside her eye; like a warning-drum, I knew that it spelt trouble. Egg-belly Kelly wasn’t far behind. Politely they overlooked Shirl’s joint. With casual ease she tossed it, still smoking, into my scrunchy-headed petunias.
‘An unexpected turn of events,’ Deb called it. They’d intercepted another delivery, this one addressed to me. A package with another tape, a note typewritten and misspelt. ‘A ransom demand.’ They, whoever ‘they’ were, were now demanding money. I could have my son back if I stumped up £50,000.
‘Is that all they want?’ I said, incredulous, and I laughed out loud, a laugh that bubbled up from somewhere very deep. The others all looked suspiciously at me; suddenly, I felt like dancing. I looked joyfully at the evening’s last sunrays refracting in my glass of golden wine, so rich and oily it slicked the glass like Fairy Liquid.
‘It’s good news, don’t you see?’ I glanced around, smiling encouragingly. ‘Fantastic news. Fifty grand-well, it’s bloody nothing, is it? Not these days. Not in the greater scheme of things. I’d pay anything for him, of course I would.’
But Deb looked concerned; her vein still throbbed.
‘I suppose—’ began Leigh cautiously.
‘It means I’ll get him back. If that’s all they want, I’ll have him back in no time.’ I toasted the others excitedly with my drink.
‘But why—’ said Shirl quite slowly, and she wasn’t really addressing me, she looked over at the police, puckering her lips in thought, ‘—why has it taken them over a week to ask for cash?’
‘For God’s sake, Shirl!’ I snapped, and I slugged some wine back. No one was going to taint my optimism, not now, not when I’d waited so flipping long. ‘They’re probably just realising what hard work a baby is,’ I joked hopefully, but no one else joined in. I pushed my chair back in frustration. ‘I can’t believe you’re being like this.’ I was starting to feel cross. ‘It’s good news-I’m sure it is. It has to be.’ I looked at Kelly, impassive as ever. ‘It is, isn’t it? What does Silver say?’
Kelly shrugged noncommittally ‘He’s with the boss, Mrs Finnegan. I’m sure he’ll be in touch.’
Boss. How strange. I’d always thought of Silver as the boss. ‘Well,’ I was more than a little flushed with drink, ‘I’ll ring and ask him myself.’
I went inside and did just that. ‘Can you com
e round, please? I really need to talk.’ I was bold with alcohol.
To my mortification, he declined. ‘I’ve got to stay here, Jessica. Work on the logistics. You just sit tight.’
‘But,’ and I was floundering now, falling from my high, ‘what should I do?’
‘Sit tight, kiddo,’ he repeated, and my heart began to sink. ‘We think—well, we need to be very circumspect about what we believe at this stage. You should prepare yourself to—it might just be a hoax, Jess.’
There was a pause—a silent, deathly pause. He carried on. ‘I don’t see any reason for someone to put a ransom demand in now. But do talk to your husband about the possibility of raising the money, by all means. It’s good to be prepared, if the worst comes to the worst.’
To my husband. The worst coming to the worst.
‘Okay,’ I said stiffly, and I reached for my almost empty inhaler, which I squirted rapidly in short, fast bursts. Then I finished up my wine. ‘Thank you. I’ll do that. I’ll talk to my husband.’ I put the phone down rather hard. I stood in my living room and I gazed at my Louis on the wall. ‘I’ll get you back soon,’ I promised him, ‘I’ll bring you home if it kills me. If it’s the last thing I ever do.’
There had to be a clue somewhere, something that had been missed. The police had already mounted a full-scale operation to find Robbie and Maxine; they were on the tail of Gorek—but still I couldn’t rest. What Mickey had muttered earlier kept coming back to haunt me. ‘Don’t trust Agnes,’ he’d said—but why?
I went upstairs and dug out her number. Her mobile went straight to answer-phone, so I left a message asking her to call. Then I crept back into Mickey’s study. I took one deep breath, and then I pulled the place apart. I hunted again for traces of Agnes, some clue to her history with my husband. Nothing. Mickey had told me once that he’d destroyed everything, and he hadn’t lied. That photo must have been it.
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