by Tess Stimson
‘Not if it’s at your child’s expense.’
‘I have a career,’ Alexa says. ‘In the minds of a lot of people, that’s enough right there to make me a bad mother. It’s hard enough when stay-at-home mothers accuse me of putting myself first because I love my job. Trust me, many of them have been kind enough to share their views with me on social media over the past two weeks. But you know what’s worse, Ms Wilde?’ Her sarcasm is thick, and bitter. ‘When other women, career women like me, do it, too.’
The barb hits home. Quinn doesn’t know why she went after Alexa like that, and she doesn’t want to dig too deeply. This is why she prefers covering wars. Being shot at is so much less complicated.
She’s not surprised when her mobile vibrates with an incoming call from INN’s editor less than five minutes after they come off-air.
‘What the actual fuck?’ Christie Bradley says.
‘Look, I know, but—’
‘You just created one hell of a shitstorm,’ Christie says. ‘Hashtag QuinnWildeApologiseNow is already trending on Twitter. I’ve had INN’s board chair on to me! Since when do we go after the victim, Quinn? Not to mention attacking women for trying to juggle kids and a career. Jesus.’
‘She opened that door—’
‘Then shame on you as a journalist for letting her set the agenda.’
The editor’s judgement burns, not least because Quinn knows she’s right.
‘Well, you’ve got what you wanted,’ Christie says, her tone heavy with disappointment. ‘You’re off the story. I don’t want you anywhere near Alexa Martini. I’ve told the International Desk to book you a flight to Syria first thing.’
Except Quinn has never let a story go in her entire journalistic career.
chapter 28
The child chafes against my rules, even though I explain they’re for her own good. I’ve cut that distinctive bright blonde hair, but I still don’t risk taking her out in public, except when I’m forced to get food. She’s more of a handful than I expected, and I lose my patience with her quite quickly.
‘Where’s my mummy?’ she demands, with increasing frequency.
‘I’m your mummy,’ I tell her.
She flies into a rage, kicking and biting. My legs are soon covered with bruises, and, in the end, I’m forced to do things I’d rather not. She’s quieter after that.
None of this is going the way I thought it would. I expected her to be upset at first, but surely she realises by now I’m doing this for her? It hurts she can’t see how much I love her. Her precious ‘mummy’ wasn’t any kind of real mother to her. What was she doing, letting a child this age wander the beach on her own? I doubt the woman even misses her now she’s gone.
Whereas I’ve proven my devotion. I’ve risked everything for her.
But she doesn’t make herself easy to like. She’s sulky and rude, and throws a tantrum whenever she doesn’t get her own way.
I try to make allowances. We’re both suffering from cabin fever, trapped within the same four walls day after day. I didn’t expect to be here this long. I’d planned to lie low for a few days, while the fuss died down, and then we’d start our new life together.
But the fuss doesn’t die down. Her name is on everyone’s lips. Her photograph is everywhere.
I follow every development in the story obsessively, waiting till she’s asleep before going online and trawling through news sites and social media. They parade the mother on television – as if that’ll do any good – and she doesn’t come across well. It doesn’t take long for the press to turn on her. The police need someone to blame for their lack of progress, too, and she’s a handy scapegoat. No one questions their failure to turn up a single lead when everyone is busy blaming the woman who should have kept the child safe in the first place.
But I worry we’ll start to attract attention if we stay in this roadside hotel. It’s the kind of place people pass through for a night, maybe two. No one stays longer than they have to.
It’s a risk to move, but it’s more of a risk to stay.
My options are limited. I can’t chance anywhere decent, so I pay cash in hand for a small room at a cheap B&B in a transient part of town. It smells damp and musty, and the child complains the sheets feel slimy. She’s fractious and complaining, and constantly, constantly hungry. There are no cooking facilities here so she has to make do with crisps and sandwiches, and she doesn’t do so gratefully. This isn’t the start to our new life I’d envisaged.
I’m beginning to realise I’ve made a mistake.
I’d hoped it wouldn’t come to this.
chapter 29
alex
Stay alive. That’s all you have to do, Lottie. Nothing else matters.
Just stay alive.
Wherever you are right now, just concentrate on that. Oh, God, you must be so frightened. I’m coming for you, Lottie, I promise, and I’m going to find you. I’ll never stop looking, no matter how long it takes. You just have to be brave and hold on for me. I know you can do that. You’re the toughest, bravest, most stubborn person I’ve ever met.
– oh my baby, my baby –
No more crying. I won’t if you don’t.
Did I ever tell you about the day you were born? You were nearly two weeks late and, even then, they had to induce you, as if you didn’t want to be born at all. So angry, so outraged, at the indignity of it all. Daddy fell in love with you the moment he saw you, red-faced and furious, but all I could see was a stranger I didn’t know and was expected to love, and it terrified me. Your hair was dark, then. It only went blonde when you were two or three months old. We used to joke we’d brought the wrong baby home from the hospital, but the truth is, you’re just like me. Neither of us have found it straightforward to get along with the world, have we? You were a difficult baby. You didn’t make yourself easy to like. But as Daddy said, why should you? You didn’t ask to be born.
You had two baby teeth at birth, did I ever tell you that? Natal teeth, the paediatrician called them. So typical of you. You made my life hell breastfeeding.
I’m so sorry I didn’t protect you. I promise, when you come back, I’m going to do a better job of that; of everything. I’ll even quit work, if that’s what you want. Daddy was always so much better at all of this, wasn’t he? I’m so sorry I’m the one you were left with.
Baby girl, please don’t be scared. You just have to find a way to keep going, to stay alive. That’s all you have to do. Stay alive. Nothing else matters, do you hear me?
They can’t hurt who you are. I’m going to find you. Just hold on, baby.
I’m coming.
fifty-two days missing
THE MORNING EXPRESS
Monday 9 December, 2019. Transcript/p.4
Panel:
Carole Bucks
Pete Lee
Nasreen Qaisrani
Jess Symonds
JESS:
Sorry, I’m just not buying that. Even Alexa Martini’s sister—
CAROLE:
Oh, here we go.
JESS:
No, Carole, no, sorry, I’m not having that. You’ve had your say, let someone else get a word in. Even Lottie’s aunt says it’s time to wind down the search and for Alexa to come home.
CAROLE:
If it was my child, I’d not stop looking, no matter how long it took.
PETE:
We have to be realistic. I think it’s very sad but, in the cold light of day, it does seem like this has gone on, more and more money is being put into the search, in America and here at home, and it doesn’t seem to be getting any nearer, tragic as this is, to getting solved.
CAROLE:
Can I, can I—
NASREEN:
Before you go on, and this is an incredibly difficult conversation, I’m the parent of a two-year-old, but there are issues of race that come into this—
PETE:
I wondered how long it’d take before—
[overlapping speech]<
br />
NASREEN:
I think – and I have to say, my heart goes out to Lottie’s family, and it’s really sad, and I feel for them, I have to start by saying that – but at the same time, it’s been seven weeks now since she disappeared.
PETE:
Fifty-two days.
NASREEN:
And there are issues of race, and as a brown person, as the only brown person here—
CAROLE:
I think that’s incredibly racist, you’re implying that as a white person, I can’t speak to—
[overlapping speech]
NASREEN:
All I’m saying is, there’s the case of Shemika Jackson, and she’s very vocal about the fact that because she’s Black, she isn’t getting the attention. Alexa Martini’s lucky, in a way—
CAROLE:
Lucky?
NASREEN:
In a perverse way, she is, because at least her missing child, she knows that every day, somebody is out there looking for her. All these parents of other children, their kids, they’ve been forgotten.
JESS:
Nasreen’s right, but I think there’s something else going on here as well. I think there’s definitely a race issue, if Lottie had been brown or Black, this wouldn’t be one of the most expensive and publicised inquiries since Maddie McCann, but I think something else is going on, which is the Martini story is box office.
PETE:
She sells newspapers.
JESS:
Sexy Lexi, all that.
NASREEN:
Oh, can we not.
CAROLE:
If the media’s been a part of it, I feel a huge—
PETE:
Of course the media’s been a part of it.
NASREEN:
Yeah, but you can’t get away from the race issue – wait, I’ll shut up in a minute – if this was a Pakistani mother from Bradford who’d left her kid on her own, there wouldn’t be all this attention, the president of the United States, for God’s sake.
CAROLE:
So should we police according to race, is that what you’re saying?
NASREEN:
Well, in this instance, yeah, what I’m saying is, and I’ll repeat it again, if this was a single mother from Bradford, we wouldn’t be here.
JESS:
I don’t want to cast blame, but some of the stories that’ve come out, putting aside the fact she’s admitted she was having sex on the beach when her daughter disappeared—
CAROLE:
For God’s sake. It’s not 1950. She’s entitled to a sex life.
PETE:
Hashtag TeamAlexa.
CAROLE:
We wouldn’t be having this conversation if she was a man.
NASREEN:
The truth is, no one wants to admit it, but it’s simple biology – I’m sorry, Carole, it’s true – kids need their mums. Something has to give, and it’s the kids who suffer.
CAROLE:
When did this stop being about finding a missing child, and turn into a referendum on whether Alexa Martini is a good mother?
NASREEN:
She opened the door with that interview.
JESS:
It’s not about taking sides, but this isn’t the first time she left her kid on her own. And just looking at the pictures of Lottie, I’m not fat-shaming here, but looking at the photos of her—
[overlapping voices]
JESS:
It’s not the child’s fault, the parent’s the one responsible for cooking and feeding them, you don’t get to that size, we’re not talking about a cheeky McDonald’s now and again, this is child abuse.
PETE:
Oooh, you’ve done it now.
CAROLE:
She’s three! You’re fat-shaming a baby!
PETE:
What did I tell you?
NASREEN:
I think we’re getting away from the—
PETE:
So you think Sexy Lexi is innocent, do you, Carole?
CAROLE:
I do, yes.
JESS:
I’m not saying she isn’t, though if I were the FBI, I’d be looking at the groom, Marc, he’s way too invested, he’s on TV every five minutes. But the question is, all the resources being put into finding this one girl, here in England and in America, sad as it is, when a child goes missing in the UK every three minutes. What about all the other kids who never come home again?
CAROLE:
It shouldn’t be about money. If there is even the slimmest chance of finding Lottie, we have to keep looking.
PETE:
The problem is, and I don’t want to sound cold-hearted here, but the problem is there have been cases solved, and it just gives false hope. There was that case in South Africa, where there was a little baby, it was taken out of its mum’s arms—
NASREEN:
Zephany.
PETE:
She turned up seventeen years later, but not because of expensive police searches. You can’t keep throwing good money—
JESS:
There was one in Austria, wasn’t there, kept in a cellar eight years. Natascha Kampusch. She escaped, didn’t she?
NASREEN:
And Jaycee Dugard, she was missing for eighteen years before she turned up alive.
PETE:
Thank you, you’ve all just made my point. They make the news because it hardly ever happens. Even though we know the chances are almost nil, people say, oh, Jaycee Dugard or whatever, they found her, you can’t give up hope.
CAROLE:
Are you saying we should give up?
PETE:
No one wants to be the person to pull the plug, but we have to be realistic here. The trouble is, and I appreciate the irony here, we’re just keeping the story alive every time we do a show like this and talk about her, and it’s not doing the family any favours in the long run. They need to be able to move on.
CAROLE:
How can Lottie’s mother possibly move on when her child is still out there?
PETE:
No one wants to say it, but the chances she’s still alive are—
[overlapping voices]
PETE:
I’m just being realistic.
JESS:
We all know, if a child isn’t found in the first seventy-two hours, it’s basically over.
CAROLE:
Can I just say, the Lottie Fund, they’ve raised nearly a million pounds online already. And Jack Murtaugh, the Tory candidate for Balham Central—
PETE:
Bandwagon alert.
CAROLE:
Can we just put the party politics aside for five minutes?
PETE:
Don’t be naive.
CAROLE:
He’s promised if he’s elected on Thursday, he’s going to raise the issue of Lottie Martini with the Foreign Office.
NASREEN:
This is where it comes back to race and class again – no, I’m sorry, but it does. You have a white, middle-class lawyer who’s getting all this support from MPs and politicians. I mean, if she was poor, she wouldn’t be able to afford to stay in Florida for months on end.
JESS:
It’s a horrific, horrific, tragic situation, but the fact is, all she’s doing now, staying out there, is sucking attention from people like Shemika Jackson, who really need it.
CAROLE:
It’s not about race or money—
PETE:
Of course it is.
CAROLE:
We’re the ones who’re privileged. We go home to our kids at night. What does Alexa Martini have to go home to?
chapter 30
alex
I pull into my reserved spot in front of our campaign office and steel myself to run the gauntlet of protesters camped on the pavement outside: #TeamAlexa on one side, #JusticeForLottie on the other.
They’ve been here for six weeks now, ev
er since the INN interview aired. Their numbers vary, depending on whether it’s a slow news day, but the core supporters of each group show up every morning, waving their placards and shouting slogans whenever someone enters or exits the building. I’ve long since stopped wondering if they have jobs and homes to go to.
Ignoring the catcalls, I hitch my bag on my shoulder and keep my head down till I’m safely inside. At least the abuse is only verbal, now. In the immediate aftermath of the interview, I had death threats and, on one occasion, someone threw eggs.
When Quinn Wilde cornered me on live television, I defended myself as best I could, wanting only to change the narrative and refocus the spotlight on the search for Lottie, but all I did was open up a whole new front in the media war. Of course I care about the struggles of women in the workplace, and the hypocrisy around male and female parenting, but the noise I’ve created has almost drowned out the mission to find my daughter. I’m starting to wonder if I’m doing more harm than good by staying in Florida.
Jon Vermeulen, the Find Lottie campaign’s new manager, is waiting for me inside. When Marc returned to the UK three weeks ago, he hired Jon to take over. An ex-CNN producer, he’s a tough, shrewd South African in his mid-fifties who bears more than a passing resemblance to a Sherman tank.
‘Your fan club is back in force today,’ he says, handing me a cup of Colombian dark roast.
