by Emily Gunnis
‘It seems like the pneumonia is getting worse, despite the antibiotics and oxygen we’re giving you. The only other option would be a ventilator in the intensive care unit, but I don’t feel that would be right in this case. You are very frail and might not survive it.’
Time stops. I feel emotionally numb, frozen in thought.
The doctor’s lips are moving, but I don’t hear what he says after that. For as long as I can remember, I have feared life, not death. A constant feeling that my life is beyond my control, passing me by. But I will not die as I have lived. It is too late to change the past but it is not too late to take control of the present.
I pull off my mask and ask for Rosie.
‘She’s the care worker who has been visiting Cecilia, Doctor. I believe she may have just left.’
The doctor looks into my eyes for a minute and I stare back. He asks the nurse to find out if Rosie is still in the hospital. He tells me they will increase my pain medication and that I must let them know if there is anyone I would like them to call.
They leave and I am alone, drowning in fear that it is too late, that I will never see Rosie – or my daughter – again. I turn my head slowly and look out of the window. I see a woman in a blue coat walking away from the hospital. I know from her walk and her beautiful long hair that it is Rosie, and I am powerless to do anything to stop her leaving. I want to get out of bed and bang on the glass, scream at her to come back. But I can only watch her leave.
Suddenly, I am back at Greenways. Standing at the barred window watching Harriet lead my baby away. I banged on the glass then, as I wish I could today, and as Harriet and my five-year-old daughter turned and looked up at me I knew instantly that I was right and the doctors were wrong. They tried to tell me that I drowned my baby, that I took her into the sea with me and she never came out.
But they were wrong, I left her in the cave. And Harriet found her.
The little girl holding Harriet’s hand had my hair. She had my eyes. She was mine.
Chapter Thirty-Two
Harvey
8 p.m. Wednesday, 19 November
Harvey Roberts stood in the silence of the black dunes and yelled his daughter’s name into the night.
His voice was hoarse and his legs burned from walking up and down the frozen sand.
His heart was heavy with a creeping feeling that felt all too familiar. The same feeling he’d had the night Liz died. A hopeless inevitability. The fight was lost; there was nothing he could do to stop the tide that was coming in to take his daughter.
‘Jessica!’ A dozen police officers’ voices echoing through the night.
His fury at Rebecca was starting to fade. Perhaps it had something to do with meeting Cecilia. And now Rebecca was on her way to meet her.
Harvey had spent only a few minutes with Cecilia, yet he knew she was telling the truth.
Everything she had said made sense. Rebecca looked nothing like Harriet and they were nothing alike as people. It was something that had always niggled him, but he had never verbalized it.
And she knew so much, her story had to be true. About seeing Rebecca at Greenways, about the night Rebecca’s parents had been killed, about Harriet.
Deep down, he suspected that Rebecca had always known that her family was never as it seemed. That the night which blew their lives apart was waiting in the wings all her life. Rebecca had always been lost. It had driven Harvey to the limits of his patience: her inability to sit still, to stop pushing herself, to stop running away from herself and her past.
But perhaps all this time it was he who had been at fault for trying to make her forget, to stop her talking about that night. Convince her there had been nobody at the door. It must have been the storm. You must have imagined it. He had claimed to love her, but it had only ever been on his terms.
Even now, fifty years on, that night was still driving their lives. And never more so than tonight. Cecilia had been gripped by postnatal psychosis. So had Rebecca. Did Jessie now have it too?
It was in Rebecca’s DNA, and yet he’d been unable to handle it and had punished her for it. Taken her child away from her.
Liz made it so easy to say ‘enough’. To convince him that how things were couldn’t be good for Jessie or him. That he had a right to put himself and Jessie first. He was so tired and when Liz wanted to take the reins he let her. Women are women’s fiercest critics, as Rebecca always used to tell him.
This isn’t fair on Jessie. He could hear Liz’s voice now and feel her putting her hand over his. We need to make some rules. Rebecca can’t just turn up here whenever she wants and have us all jump through hoops. It’s not good for Jessie to be in the car for two hours a day. To be left in a hospital crèche until it shuts. And then what happens when Rebecca becomes unwell again, and we have to pick up the pieces? So he had taken the easy route, established routines and rules for Jessie’s sake.
Made life harder for Rebecca and easier for him.
And destroyed Rebecca and Jessie’s relationship so that history was repeating itself.
But really it was his fear. Of Rebecca’s psychosis. Of having to go back to that night. Of watching her re-live it time after time.
The past returned in cycles. And here he was again. Close to midnight. Stormy sea. Frozen night. The sound of shouting. On nights like these he and Rebecca would run to their hiding place, and talk by candlelight, play, laugh. All the world to each other. In a safe place, where no one could reach them.
Harvey heard someone shout his name and at the same moment he knew where Jessie was.
The torchlight which had been moving slowly through the dunes began to move faster.
‘Harvey!’ Another shout, coming towards him, clearer this time, his name, the torchlight jogging up and down.
Harvey suddenly realized the phone in his pocket was ringing.
It was DC Galt’s number. ‘Mr Roberts, we’ve had a call from the officer who is with Rebecca Waterhouse. Is there a bomb shelter under the cottage?’
‘Yes, but it’s blocked off.’
‘Can you get to it from the house?’ DC Galt’s voice was frantic.
‘There used to be an entrance under the stairs, but it’s been screeded over.’ But Harvey knew as he spoke the words that Jessie had found a way in.
‘There’s another entrance in the cornfield,’ he said, ‘behind the cottage, but it’s been shut fast for years.’
Harvey started to run towards the steps up to Seaview. ‘It’s a vault lock, it was rusted, and it’ll be covered in foliage. How could Jessie get down there?
‘Apparently Rebecca Waterhouse said Jessie may have got hold of a diary belonging to Harriet Waterhouse and that the only place it could have been was in the bomb shelter. It’s possible Jessie may have managed to get access before she had the baby, then returned there this morning with her.’
Taking two steps at a time, stumbling twice, Harvey headed for the field between Seaview Cottage and the farmhouse. His chest hurt from the cold, as he sucked in the freezing night air, pushing himself on. Looking up for a moment, Harvey saw two police officers running towards Seaview Cottage with the owner of Seaview Farm.
‘They’ll break in under the stairs if you can’t find the entrance here,’ said one of the police officers who’d followed Harvey.
Harvey felt panic rising in him. Why hadn’t he thought of the bomb shelter earlier?
‘We planted grass over it,’ said Harvey, rushing towards where his memory told him the entrance was, ‘so no one would know it was here. Where is it?’ His head span, the cold air and all the turmoil of the last few days draining his ability to think.
‘Here!’ said an officer.
The policeman’s torchlight revealed a cement circle with five spokes sticking out from a steel band in its centre. Harvey leaned in and began to turn the rusted wheel, which squealed until he easily lifted it and revealed the heavy iron steps his father had built down to the shelter in the weeks after the Second World Wa
r broke out.
‘Jessie, hang on!’ Harvey turned to lower himself down.
DC Galt had arrived and now put her hand on his shoulder. ‘Harvey, wait! We don’t know what we are going to find down there – the baby may be very poorly.’
‘I know! That’s why I need to get to her,’ Harvey said desperately.
DC Galt grabbed Harvey’s arm. ‘But you need to understand that the baby is our priority. If Jessie is in there and won’t hand her over, we’ll have to force her. We need to work together.’
Harvey pulled his arm away and started to climb down the wrought iron steps he knew so well as a boy. ‘There’s a light flickering! I think she’s down here!’ Harvey called up to DC Galt, his voice cracking.
DC Galt handed Harvey a flashlight. ‘Get two ambulances here now!’ she called out to her colleague. Harvey looked along the dark tunnel and could see what appeared to be candle light flickering against the curved wall. He could hear her but still he couldn’t see Jessie as he crept along, fearful of what he was about to find. He could hear DC Galt’s shoes on the rusted steps, following him down. As soon as he reached the bottom, he could make out the faint sound of his daughter crying.
‘I can hear Jessie,’ he called up. ‘She’s down here.’
Harvey reached the bottom and called softly, ‘Jessie, it’s me, Dad. I’m coming, sweetheart.’
‘Dad, tell them to go! Please, I don’t want them here, they’ll hurt Elizabeth. Dad, please don’t let anyone down here.’ Jessie’s voice was weak.
‘Jessie, it’s so good to hear your voice. Is Elizabeth okay?’
No reply. Harvey couldn’t hear the baby at all. As DC Galt reached the bottom, Harvey called to Jessie.
‘Just you! No one else,’ she hissed.
‘Try and keep calm, Jessie darling. I’m here with a policewoman who has been helping to find you.’
‘No, Dad, please!’ Jessie sounded hysterical.
DC Galt stepped forward and her torchlight fell on a figure crouched at the back of the small, dank room. The moment Harvey saw Jessie his heart broke. Her face was white and covered in dirt, her clothes filthy. She held her hand up to her face to protect her from the bright light and he saw that baby Elizabeth lay limp in her arms. She was sitting on what looked like a turned-over bookcase, and on the floor in front of her was an open tin and a bottle of water. A single candle burned on a pile of books next to Jessie. There was a damp smell in the air, and various bits of junk furniture scattered around.
‘Oh God! Jessie!’ he said.
Jessie pulled Elizabeth to her. ‘Get away from us. The medicine they gave her has made her sick. Look at her! I’m not letting anyone near her!’ Her screams thundered around the walls of the shelter as baby Elizabeth’s body hung limp like a rag doll.
‘Jessica, your baby’s very poorly and we need to get her to hospital as quickly as possible.’ DC Galt’s voice was calm.
‘No, no hospitals! They were trying to kill her!’
DC Galt signalled to Harvey and they hurried back to the ladder. ‘This isn’t working,’ she said. ‘The baby is unconscious. I need more people down here. Try and keep her as calm as possible. We’ll have to restrain your daughter, I’m afraid. Do you understand? We need to get that baby to the hospital now.’
At that moment they heard the ambulance sirens.
‘I’ll help to hold Jessie,’ Harvey said firmly.
DC Galt paused for a moment. ‘Okay, but she will fight, hard. We can take an arm each. You have to hold her tight. Just keep telling her that she will be okay and to trust you. We’ll get her to release her grip on the baby. Okay, Harvey?’
‘Daddy, where are you?’ Jessie started to cry, howling sobs of fear and desperation. ‘Don’t let them take her, Dad.’
‘Ready?’ asked DC Galt as three more officers appeared beside her.
‘Okay,’ said Harvey.
Harvey walked slowly back towards his daughter.
‘Daddy, what are you doing? Don’t let them come any closer.’
‘Darling, give me the baby, please. They’ll have to restrain you if you don’t give her to me. Please, Jessie. You’ve got to trust me, I won’t let them hurt Elizabeth.’
Jessie began scuttling towards the corner of the bomb shelter like an animal who had been tortured and trusted no one. Harvey felt hot tears falling down his wind-burnt cheeks and he struggled to speak.
He sank down on the floor next to her. ‘Sweetheart, please give her to me. Please.’
‘Why are you on their side? They’ll kill her, Daddy.’ Tears were streaming down Jessie’s dirt-covered face.
Harvey looked to DC Galt who nodded and as Harvey grabbed Jessie’s left shoulder and arm, DC Galt launched herself at Jessies’s right side.
‘Take the baby,’ DC Galt directed the policeman next to her.
‘No!’ Jessie spat at the man as he reached for the child and kicked out frantically.
The second policeman put his arms around the baby and pulled her away gently as Jessie fought with everything she had to get away. Harvey watched as a paramedic rushed forward and the baby disappeared out of sight.
It had all happened in five seconds, but Harvey knew those five seconds would be etched in his mind for the rest of his life. He clung to her daughter as Jessie thrashed, spat and screamed for her baby.
‘It’s okay, Jess,’ said Harvey.
‘You let them take my baby!’ Jessie broke free and Harvey watched helplessly as she curled up into a ball and sobbed in the corner of the bomb shelter. He couldn’t bring himself to go closer, to try again. His legs wouldn’t move, he had nothing left.
‘I’m her sister.’ Harvey heard a voice he recognized and looked up to see Iris coming along the tunnel towards him.
‘It’s happening all over again,’ he said quietly, burying his head in his hands. As Iris focused on her sister and slowly moved towards Jessie, the paramedic spoke to her.
‘Jessie, we need to give you something to help you feel a bit calmer,’ he said.
‘Stay away from me!’ spat Jessie, now crouching in the corner of the room.
Iris stood up. ‘Can I talk to her?’
‘Can she be with her baby?’ Harvey pressed.
‘The baby will have gone ahead, but depending on how she is doing, there’s talk of putting them in a mother-and-baby unit.’
Iris was crouching down now, a few paces from her sister. ‘Jessie, it’s Iris. Can I come over, please?’
‘They’re going to lock me up. I’ll never see my baby again!’ Jessie sobbed, backed against the wall. Iris looked down and saw the diary, covered in black dust, on the ground next to Jessie.
‘Jessie. They want to take you to the same hospital as your baby, but they need to give you something to calm you down so you can go in the ambulance. Is that okay? I’ll stay with you. I promise.’
‘They took my baby,’ said Jessie, but she was crying more softly now.
‘Everyone wants to get you back together. Please trust me.’ Iris couldn’t help crying at the state Jessie was in as she collapsed into Iris’s arms. She clung to Jessie.
The paramedic approached Jessie and whispered to her as they gave her an injection in her hip before wrapping a blanket around her. Slowly Iris laid Jessie down in her lap as the sedative took effect.
‘Look, Harvey,’ said Iris, pointing to the book laid on the dust-covered floor next to where Jessie had been.
Harvey picked up the red leatherbound book and saw the words ‘Five Year Diary’ embossed on the front.
‘That’s how me and Mum knew she was here. Harriet’s diary is the only way Jessie could have found out about Cecilia.’
‘They stole her baby,’ whispered Jessie, as Iris stroked her hair and looked up at the book in Harvey’s hands.
Chapter Thirty-Three
Harriet
July 1952
‘I need to see Cecilia.’ Harriet glared at Dr Hunter.
‘I’m afraid that won’t be po
ssible.’
‘Why not?’
‘She’s on a secure wing. She isn’t allowed visitors.’
‘Why? She isn’t a danger to anyone. Cecilia wouldn’t hurt a soul.’
‘I’m sorry, Mrs Waterhouse, but it is out of the question.’
‘Does Charles Barton know Cecilia is here?’
‘I’m not at liberty to discuss another patient’s treatment with you, Mrs Waterhouse. I believe you came here to see your husband.’
Harriet glared at the man. The warm, comforting voice she had heard on the phone was gone.
‘Mummy, I’m hungry. My belly is making grumbling noises.’ Rebecca tugged at her.
‘Cecilia is my friend and ex-employer. Mr Barton wants Cecilia here to lock away a scandal. If I don’t help her no one will!’
‘Mummy, what’s wrong?’ said Rebecca, stroking her mother’s hand. Harriet crouched down and picked the little girl up, making a barrier between her and Dr Hunter.
‘I don’t know what you are implying, Mrs Waterhouse. Two doctors have to certify every patient based on evidence and behaviour – it’s not enough for the family, however influential, simply to declare someone insane.’
Harriet pressed on. ‘I know how hard it is to get out of here once you are in. You need family support, and she has no one. If Mr Barton wants her in here, she’ll be here for the rest of her life.’
‘I’m sorry, Mrs Waterhouse. You still can’t see her. You aren’t family and I would lose my job if Mr Barton found out.’
‘Fine, then I’ll go to the papers. I know how the law works. Charles needed to have Cecilia certified insane so he could remarry and he wants her to stay in here. He never loved her; she was just a child. It’s wrong and, as God is my witness, I will do the right thing by her.’
‘You need to be very careful, Mrs Waterhouse,’ said Dr Hunter. ‘You are playing with fire.’
Harriet looked at Rebecca then back at Dr Hunter as her eyes filled with tears. ‘Her baby is alive, Dr Hunter. She didn’t drown her. You can’t keep her in here for something she didn’t do’. Tears slid down Harriet’s cheeks as Dr Hunter looked at Rebecca.