by Sue Fortin
‘I love that child, like she’s my own,’ said Neve, the passion in her voice surprising her.
‘But you don’t,’ said Kit. ‘That’s just it, you don’t love her like she’s your own because if you did, then you wouldn’t have kept saying to me that you wanted a child of your own.’
‘No, that’s not true. You don’t understand. Just because a woman has one child, it doesn’t quell her desire to have another. And that’s exactly how it was … it is … for me.’
Kit walked over to the bench and sat down. He rested his forearms on his knees, his hands clasped together, and his head bowed.
Sensing the fire had, for now, abated, Neve sat herself beside him. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said.
‘Don’t keep saying sorry,’ said Kit. He lifted his head slightly to look at her. ‘I just need to know the truth about everything. If I don’t know that, then I can’t even think about what’s going to happen to us.’
Neve felt her stomach drop. ‘I can’t just spill it all out here,’ she said, her mind treading water.
‘I don’t expect you to,’ said Kit. ‘To be honest, I’m totally rinsed. Exhausted. I don’t think I can deal with much more today. But we need to have the conversation.’
‘I know,’ she whispered. He was throwing her a lifeline, one where there still might be hope for them as a couple.
‘I don’t think it would be a good idea to stay at the house right now. Mum’s there. It won’t be good for Poppy.’
Neve went to protest but changed her mind. She wasn’t in a position to argue. ‘I could stay at Lucie’s,’ she said.
‘Yeah. That’s what I thought. At least that way you’ll still be close by.’ Kit stood up. ‘I need to get back to Poppy.’
‘Can I just see her?’ asked Neve. ‘I just want to see her safe at home.’
Kit grunted an approving sound and they climbed silently back into the car, before heading home. On the way, Neve messaged Lucie asking if she could stay over for a few days. Lucie replied almost straight away, saying of course Neve could and she would put a bottle of wine in the fridge right that minute. Neve thanked the stars that she had such a good friend.
‘Does Lucie know about … about your friendship with Jake?’ said Kit, breaking the silence between them.
‘No. There was nothing to tell,’ said Neve. She couldn’t see from the look on Kit’s face whether he thought this was a good or a bad thing but decided not to push for an opinion.
Ten minutes later, Kit swung his Mercedes onto the drive and led the way into the house. From the living room Cheryl appeared.
‘Hello, Neve,’ she said, folding her arms as she stood at the foot of the stairs. ‘I’m surprised to see you here.’
‘Hello, Cheryl. Nice to see you too and, by the way, it is my home.’ Neve looked at Kit.
‘Home is where the heart is,’ said Cheryl. ‘And from where I’m standing, your heart isn’t here.’
‘Mum,’ admonished Kit. ‘Leave it.’
‘I’m only saying what I think,’ said Cheryl. ‘Honesty is the best policy.’ She looked pointedly at Neve.
‘Just go and sit back down, Mum,’ said Kit.
‘In other words, don’t get involved,’ Neve found herself saying. After seven years of marriage, Neve was an expert at biting her tongue, but today she was in no mood for offering Cheryl any leeway.
She ignored Cheryl’s protests to Kit that Neve shouldn’t speak to her like that and headed for the staircase. At the half-landing, she glanced over the banisters to see Kit closing the door on his mother, rather like you would a toddler or a puppy you didn’t want escaping.
Kit looked up at her. ‘Thanks for that.’
‘She started it,’ said Neve, acknowledging she sounded rather childish; a thought reinforced by the eye-roll Kit gave.
Neve nimbly made it to the top of the landing and, stopping outside Poppy’s bedroom door, she gently turned the handle. The spring gave a small squeak of displeasure before releasing and allowing Neve entry. She poked her head round the door.
The curtains were drawn but they were thin enough to allow a soft haze of daylight through for Neve to see Poppy’s sleeping figure on the bed. Dressed in her pjs and cuddling the bear that Neve and Poppy had brought from the bear workshop place in Brighton. Neve padded across the deep carpeted floor.
Poppy’s hair had been washed and was still a bit damp at her scalp. Cheryl had probably washed it for her and a small pang of jealousy shot through Neve. It was her job to wash Poppy’s hair. It was their twice-weekly ritual, something they spent time together doing. A gesture that often reminded Neve of the monkeys and gorillas in the zoo and how they groomed each other in a display of affection.
Neve knelt down at the bedside and tucked a strand of hair behind Poppy’s ear. Then very carefully, she picked up the patchwork quilt she had made Poppy several years ago and draped it over her daughter’s shoulders.
As she stood up, she noticed Kit standing in the doorway. She couldn’t quite read the look on his face. Was it sadness, love, warmth or was it pity? She wasn’t sure she wanted pity. What was he feeling pitiful about? Her? Them? Poppy?
He jerked his head towards the landing and Neve followed him out of the room, pausing to take one last look at Poppy. She was home and really, at the end of the day, that was all that mattered. With an overwhelming realisation, Neve acknowledged that wanting anything else from this situation had been totally selfish.
It shouldn’t take something like this to repair her broken marriage. Her and Kit should try to work it out themselves, although she wondered now if she had left it too late. That she had made an error of judgement and got this whole thing totally wrong.
Chapter 25
‘There she is,’ said Kit, slipping his arm around Poppy’s shoulder and giving her a hug. ‘Blue Horizon. And the sun has even come out for us.’
Poppy gave an indifferent shrug. ‘The sun comes out every day, so it’s not true to say that it has come out for us.’
‘True,’ said Kit, with a smile. It seemed that whatever had happened to Poppy, it hadn’t affected her. Not that he had noticed yet anyway. The psychologist had said it may be some time before the effects were fully understood but Kit hoped with all his heart that wouldn’t be the case. Still, they’d deal with it if and when it happened. He wasn’t sure if bringing Poppy back to the boat so soon was a good idea or not. He gave his daughter a sideways look as he tapped in the entry code for the moorings’ gate and opened it for her to walk through. She did so without hesitation. He took this as a good sign.
‘Is my bag still on board?’ she asked as they approached the boat.
‘Everything is,’ said Kit. ‘I had Sean bring her back after …’ His voice trailed off, not knowing how to describe her disappearance.
‘After I went missing,’ supplied Poppy, in her matter of fact way.
Kit inwardly sighed at his daughter’s bluntness. A child psychologist had counselled Poppy a couple of times now, but had been unsuccessful in gleaning any information out of Poppy, who it appeared remembered very little and certainly nothing of note. Her memory appeared to be either blank or locked out of reach. It was difficult to say what, if any, the long-term effects might be.
‘Yes, after you went missing,’ said Kit. He could feel a lump in his throat the texture of ballast. He felt weak compared to his daughter. Even the thought of what happened was bringing him to the edge of sanity.
As the pontoon bounced gently under their step, one of the other boat owners was climbing down from his launch. As he looked up, Kit watched the man startle at the sight of Poppy and Kit walking along. He then quickly schooled his face into a smile and gave a nod of his head.
‘Morning,’ he said, making eye contact with Kit.
‘Morning,’ replied Kit, looking away. He had never exchanged more than a few words with the guy, perhaps accompanied by some inane comments about the weather, and he certainly didn’t want to start now. Kit felt self-consci
ous. Not a feeling he experienced often. And there was another emotion tucked away there, one he didn’t like and could barely admit to himself. Shame. He felt ashamed of himself. Everyone in the marina would know what had happened to Poppy and, no doubt, they all had their own opinions about who was to blame. Kit could forgive them for blaming him. They had every right to. He had failed as a father to keep his daughter safe. He hadn’t been able to protect her when she needed him. He wasn’t sure he could ever forgive himself for that one.
Now alongside Blue Horizon, Kit pulled himself up and over the side ropes. As he did so, he felt a moment of light-headedness. He closed his eyes, waiting for the sensation to pass. He’d been feeling like this since Poppy had disappeared off the boat. The whole incident had put a tremendous amount of stress on him and he was finding it hard to even think straight at times. The moment passed, and he placed the small step ladder against the side of the boat, so Poppy could climb up.
‘I can do it,’ said Poppy, refusing the hand her father held out to her. She climbed over, her foot catching on the rope but still insisting she didn’t need help.
Kit wondered how she had managed to get off the boat so easily on her own the night she went missing. She would have either had to lower the ladder herself and slide it back onto the deck which would have made a noise. Or someone helped her. He still couldn’t make sense of her exit that night. He wished he could remember at least some sort of detail.
He unlocked the cabin door and descended the three wooden steps, ducking his head as he did so. The crime scene team had been in and searched the place. All their belongings lay around, as if they had been freeze-framed. Poppy’s sleeping bag, pillow and rucksack were spread out across the aft cabin. Another blanket that Kit vaguely remembered being over Neve’s legs at some point, was on the floor. From the two washed up wine glasses sitting on the draining board, it was obvious he and Neve had been drinking. An empty bottle of Shiraz was on the small worktop next to the sink and another empty one was in the bin. Had they really drunk two whole bottles between them?
A sudden image of himself and Neve sitting on the sofa, wine glasses in hand and Neve throwing her head back, laughing, came to mind but disappeared the next second. So fleeting was the image, Kit hadn’t been able to pin down the time or the occasion. Was it last week, last month, last year? He tried hard to think, to visualise them on the boat a few days ago, but he couldn’t. He could get as far as mooring up and even that was hazy, but beyond that his memory was just empty.
He closed his eyes and tried to recall the snapshot of memory he had just experienced. If he could just hit the refresh key in his brain, then maybe it would trigger a whole host of other memories.
‘I need my bag.’ Poppy’s voice broke his thoughts as she made her way into the saloon and then brushed past him to her cabin. Her blue and white daisy patterned rucksack was on the bed, the contents strewn across the sleeping bag where the police had searched for clues.
Kit stared around the small living space. What the hell had happened that night? As his gaze brushed the door to the cabin at the forepeak where he and Neve had slept, he experienced another flashback. Neve propping him up with her shoulder lodged under his arm, as he draped himself over her. Just as before, the mental image was gone as quickly as it had arrived. But that brief snippet of information was enough to convince Kit that he had been very much more drunk than he had assumed.
Where was Poppy when all this was going on? Again, he had no recollection to call upon. He could only suppose that she was sleeping in her cabin. Reluctant to ask her, in case it pre-empted a funny turn or traumatic memory, Kit was none the wiser. If only Poppy could remember or at least open up with what she did recall, then the police might stand half a chance of catching the bastard who did this.
‘Your shoelace is undone,’ said Poppy, coming into the saloon and plonking herself down on the bench seat. Picking up her rucksack, Kit watched her fish around for her purse and taking the coins from it, she began counting them out, stacking them on the seat cushion. ‘Your shoelace is undone,’ she repeated without looking up at him.
He crouched to tie up the errant lace. As he went to stand, he rested his hand on the seat to push himself up. The cushion sank and sent the pile of coins tumbling across the floor of the boat.
‘Dad!’ cried Poppy, diving onto the deck to gather up the coins.
‘Oh, sorry. Here, let me help.’
‘There’s a two-pound coin missing,’ said Poppy, after they had collected all the coins. ‘It’s a special one. It has St Paul’s Cathedral on the back.’
Kit looked around but couldn’t see it anywhere. ‘Are you sure?’
‘Positive.’ Poppy was frantically searching through the coins.
‘Here, I might have one in my pocket,’ said Kit.
‘No. It has to be the St Paul’s Cathedral one.’
Knowing his daughter wouldn’t accept anything less than finding the exact coin, Kit dropped to his knees once more and swept his hand slowly back and forth across the floor in the hope of locating the coin. He had no luck.
‘Maybe it rolled away,’ he said, still on his hands and knees. He crouched even lower and peered under the freestanding kitchen units. Taking his phone from his pocket and switching on the light, he illuminated the two-inch gap. ‘Aha! There it is.’ Kit slid his hand underneath and patted around on the wooden boards. Something brushed his fingertips. Not the coin, but something else. He pulled out the item and inspected his find. It was a small glass vial with a cork stopper in the top. It reminded him of something from his chemistry set when he was a lad.
‘That’s not my coin,’ said Poppy.
‘Oh, yes. Sorry.’ Kit slid his hand in for the second time and retrieved his daughter’s treasure. ‘There you go.’
As Poppy put her money back in her purse, Kit stood up and took a closer look at the vial. He tipped it at an angle, and a minuscule drop of liquid slid down the tube. Strange, Kit couldn’t for the life of him think what it was or where it had come from, but he had an uneasy sense of déjà-vu. He forced himself to focus on that feeling, trying to pull a conscious memory from the subconscious thought. The vial felt important, but he had no idea why. He took the stopper out and gingerly sniffed the tube but there was no aroma. Again, he tried to harness some connection to the tube as he gazed at the worktop but all he could picture was a hazy memory of Neve looking over her shoulder at him and smiling.
‘Will we be long?’ came Poppy’s voice.
Kit turned to his daughter. ‘What? Oh, no, not too long.’ He adjusted his estimation for Poppy’s peace of mind. ‘Twenty minutes and we’ll be done.’ He watched his daughter pull a face of displeasure. ‘Poppy,’ said Kit, sitting down beside her. ‘Are you OK being here after what happened?’ He didn’t want to upset her, but it felt a good time to ask. He wished he knew what had happened to Poppy. Not knowing was the worst possible thing. He’d hated not knowing where she had been during those missing days and he’d thought that once she was back, he wouldn’t care. At the time, just having his daughter home was the most important thing. Now, though, the not knowing was another kind of torture to endure.
Kit had at one point or another suspected practically everyone of taking Poppy or being involved with her disappearance, but he’d come to the same conclusion every time, the only conclusion that made any sense – Jake must have been involved. He either wanted Poppy out of the way, so Neve wouldn’t have any qualms about leaving Kit or, and this one seemed more likely, he wanted to play hero to Neve by finding Poppy.
Kit looked at his daughter as she considered his question. ‘You know you can talk to me, don’t you?’ he said.
‘Yeah. I’m just bored. Can we take the boat out?’ Her eyes lit up with excitement.
‘Not today. But we will another day. Soon. I promise.’ Kit took a reassuring breath before he spoke again. ‘Being back here, has it reminded you of anything that happened that night?’ He ventured.
�
�I won at Monopoly,’ said Poppy.
‘Apart from that?’
‘You were drunk.’
‘What?’ Kit gave a laugh.
‘You were!’ replied Poppy, clearly amused at what she was saying. ‘I saw you.’
‘I had a glass of wine,’ said Kit, glancing back at the two washed up glasses on the drainer. He attempted and failed to dredge up the elusive memory of that night.
‘Neve had to help you to bed,’ said Poppy gleefully. She stood up and, swaying from side to side, staggered to the bedroom, holding onto the doorframe as she did so. Then collapsed back down beside Kit in a fit of giggles.
Kit ruffled his daughter’s hair. ‘I was that bad, huh?’ It was good to see Poppy laughing, she had such a beautiful smile, just like her mother’s. Kit felt a small tug at his heart. It didn’t happen often, but now and again the memory of his first wife caught him off-guard. Although, he acknowledged that these days it wasn’t so much a small pain, but a deep sadness. He pulled Poppy in for a hug, reminding himself of the fact that he had his daughter back. And somewhere at the back of his mind, a distant nagging voice grew a little louder, prodding his conscience that he was denying Neve the very same privilege he cherished so dearly.
He had so many mixed emotions where Neve was concerned. The revelation that she had been on the brink of an affair with Jake hadn’t been as much of a surprise as Kit thought it should have been. He acknowledged that somewhere, deep down inside him, somewhere he had avoided visiting, he knew, or at least suspected, that Neve and Jake were closer than was normal for a student and tutor. Now, he supposed, he had been in denial because it would have meant challenging his own behaviour and how he had treated Neve, what he had done to cause his wife to seek comfort and love from someone else. It cut him deep. He felt betrayed and yet guilty, at the same time. Ultimately, he could have stopped the situation from snowballing any further, by speaking to Neve in the first place. Speaking to her when things first started to go wrong for them, but he had been too bloody stubborn and full of injustice to himself. He wasn’t sure where or when he’d crossed the line into being bloody-minded and passing the buck to Neve, but that’s what he’d done. He realised that now. He’d made a huge mistake and his heart was paying dearly.