Her phone rings. She digs out the handset from her bag: it’s Giles.
She’s here without permission, can’t trust herself to speak to him without giving her anxiety away, and she mutes the call, replying with a text. Sorry can’t talk. Bess in meltdown. All fine tho. Speak later.
Giles texts back immediately. Call me now. I need to speak to you.
The shop assistant taps her on the shoulder. ‘How can I help?’
Ruth stares at the woman in panic, the phone hot in her hand, and the assistant tips back her head, eyes wide with alarm. ‘Is everything OK?’
‘Yes. Fine.’
‘Right.’ She flicks a pleading look over her shoulder before returning to Ruth. ‘What kind of handset do you need then?’
The shop’s tinny music rattles in Ruth’s ears. ‘Whatever’s the cheapest pay-as-you-go. And the quickest to set up.’
Another text comes in from Giles. On my way home. Where the hell are you?
15
Ruth’s heartbeat accelerates in line with her increasingly frantic driving, her urge to return to Bess a singular compulsion. Giles texts again – You have so much explaining to do – and Ruth fumbles to reply – Home v soon – terrified of digging herself any deeper into trouble. Will Giles make it home before she does, and if so, will Leila have stayed with Bess or panicked when she heard him coming and run away? She’s promised to do both in the past and Ruth won’t know exactly what she has to explain until she herself walks into the house. The girl’s words replay in Ruth’s ears: ‘I am here with Bess. I will not leave.’ She grips the wheel, fingers cramping with the pull of home as the vehicle flies over a speed bump, suspension wheezing as it hits the tarmac.
When Ruth reaches her road, she struggles to find a space, the street even more jammed than usual. As she passes her house, she glimpses Giles’s bike leaning against the wall and her stomach flips. At least if Leila has run off, someone is home with Bess now. There’s nowhere to pull over so Ruth floors the accelerator, breaking sharply at the end of the cul-de-sac, where a street light flares off the bonnet of a parked police car. The officer inside the vehicle faces away from Ruth’s headlamps as she attempts not to hit his vehicle, her panic swelling – he’s here for her – before she sees the blackened lump of a melted bin on the pavement. The officer must have been called out to deal with more fire-starters; not everything needs to be about Ruth, but worry is her addiction, an adrenal response that puts her error at the centre of all problems.
Eventually she finds a space close to the main junction of her road, parking without noticing she’s turning the wheel or shifting gears, her thoughts consumed by what’s waiting at home. She runs along the pavement. Ahead, Frieda’s curtains have been opened, lights switched off, and a wheelie bin put outside the gate for the next collection. The lid won’t close over Frieda’s twiggy bouquets and what looks like the rest of her craft table supplies. A cannabis leaf blows across the road and into the hedgerow, and the litter tray has been emptied and left standing next to the bin – Liam’s had a thorough purge, only what does that mean he’s done with the cat? Later. Ruth will have to check on it later. At least she got Leila out in time, though what problems has she brought the girl by bringing her to her own house? Crumbs fill Ruth’s fingernails as she fumbles in her bag for keys and Bess’s cry is a clear bell through the window, the ever-unfurling cord pulling Ruth home. Her muscles tense; she could simply run, now, leave all this, but her fear is instantly trumped by guilt that she could be so cowardly when Leila needs her, and when being away from Bess would kill her anyway. A woman’s voice, too soft to make out what’s being said, but it means Leila’s inside; she’s waited for Ruth after all. Giles’s anger will be incandescent at this stranger left in charge of his daughter and Leila will be sobbing on the sofa as he paces in front of her with questions and recriminations, but at least this way Ruth won’t need to convince Giles that Leila is real. Ruth’s more relieved than she’d have guessed that at last the Leila dilemma will be taken out of her hands and given to someone with more tools to help. Giles is a good man, he’ll come round to understanding why Ruth did what she did to help this vulnerable young woman.
The gate squeaks and bumps shut behind her. Giles has the front door open before she’s even crossed the concrete yard. He greets her with flint in his eye. Ruth focuses on the floor as she passes into the lounge.
There on the sofa, now fully made up, bouncing Bess on her knee with all the vigour of an aunty at a wedding, is Sandra. Bess’s face is scrunched in tears and she looks like she’s going to be sick. Ruth wants to tell Sandra to stop, only her mouth won’t work. Standing next to the sofa is the same policewoman who came before, legs planted in a downward V, arms crabbed at her sides in anticipation of what this crazy woman might be capable of. Behind Ruth, Giles comes into the room, blocking her exit to the kitchen.
I know this, Ruth thinks, I know why they’re here; this is a mutiny. Giles wants to send her away, but it can’t happen now, not without knowing Leila is safe.
‘Thank you, Officer,’ Giles says, rubbing his forehead. ‘She’s OK, obviously. I’m really sorry to have bothered you.’
The woman sidles past Ruth without making eye contact, the snub telling Ruth she’s not the same as the rest of them, a patient consigned to her illness, not wholly human. ‘I’ll need to fill out a missing persons report,’ the officer says. ‘And the necessary agencies will have to be notified – social services will be in touch – but I’ll give you some privacy for now.’
‘Thanks, I appreciate it.’ Giles shows the policewoman to the door. ‘Again, I’m really sorry to have wasted your time.’
‘Leaving a baby on her own in the house is not wasting police time, Mr Woodman. I’m just relieved everyone’s safe for now.’
The officer leaves and Giles shuts the door behind her.
Ruth says, ‘I can explain.’
‘There is nothing’ – a fleck of Giles’s spit lands in Ruth’s eye – ‘you can say that will convince me you are well enough to look after our daughter for one more minute.’
No words will pass the stone in Ruth’s throat.
‘Jesus, Ruth!’ Giles holds up his arms, bracketing the enormity of his outrage. ‘This is the worst.’ He looks to Sandra as he jams his fists into his hips. She’s stopped jiggling Bess and is giving the baby a tight squeeze. Giles continues, ‘Just as well someone used their intuition.’
Sandra’s jittery in her seat, circling something that needs to be said. ‘I’m sorry, honey.’ That high girly voice with a whiff of Marilyn Monroe and none of the coldness she had for Ruth just a couple of hours earlier. She runs a hand over Bess’s head to flatten the baby’s sweaty hair. ‘But I’m always looking out for you, you know that, so after I saw you earlier, my alarm bells went off. As soon as I got home, I called Giles, just to check he was with Bess, and of course he wasn’t.’ A little laugh comes out as a sob. ‘I got Liam to check on the house as he was only next door at his mum’s.’ She hugs Ruth’s baby harder and Bess grimaces. ‘He could hear her crying through the window . . .’ Sandra puts a hand over her mouth to cover her tears. ‘You’d left your little baby all alone in the house. Liam found her in her cot.’
Ruth switches her focus between Sandra and Giles before saying, ‘Then how did he get in?’
Sandra catches Giles’s eye and turns her face to the floor. Giles replies on Sandra’s behalf. ‘Sandra has keys, you know that. We got them cut for her months ago, just in case. Doctor Fraser said it was a good idea for someone else to have access in an emergency. Remember?’
Ruth says, ‘And Liam just happened to have them on him, did he?’
‘Yes,’ Sandra replies. ‘One of us has them at all times. It’s what we discussed with Giles. I’m sorry, hun, but we all had Bessie’s safety to think of, as well as yours of course. Anything could have happened today.’ A mascara tear stripes Sandra’s cheek as she says, more quietly, ‘But Liam wouldn’t have needed the keys anyway be
cause you’d left the back door open.’
‘What? No I didn’t.’ Bess reaches out to her mum and Ruth holds on tight to her hot little hand, her anger at Leila mounting, that she not only left Bess alone, she left her vulnerable too. ‘Look, there’s something I have to tell you, Giles.’ Everyone’s attention is now firmly pointed at Ruth. ‘There was someone else—’
‘Who?’ Giles pushes his face close to Ruth’s, like he’s attempting to read her subtext. ‘Did you think someone else was here? Was it one of your imaginary friends looking after our daughter?’
‘No, of course not. I just—’
‘Don’t you understand?’ Giles’s voice booms in the small space. ‘You are ill. These people you see don’t exist. There was a girl in the wall, remember? You thought she was your sister. You nearly broke the house down to get her out.’ He spins away from her, his movements fluid in rage. ‘All these girls, Ruth, they’re all invented, but the one you’re actually supposed to be caring for is the least real to you of the lot.’
‘That’s not what I meant.’ Ruth turns her thoughts to that day in the downstairs toilet when she’d been her most floridly psychotic and had tried to make a hole in the wall. She checks every recess of her brain where illness may linger. Nothing remains of that old fantasy. Leila is real, she’s sure of this, though there’ll be no convincing Giles or Sandra now. ‘I was unwell then, I understand that. You’re not giving me a chance to explain what happened today.’
Giles paces, shaking his head in the way a dog would to keep flies away. ‘This is it, the end of the line. I’m so close to being finished with this, Ruth.’ Sandra looks at the floor, a sheen breaking through her foundation, but Giles doesn’t notice her discomfort, his anger too excitable, like it’s been kept in for a long time and the rush of it is now an elation. His eyes glitter, the monologue turning into a rant. ‘I don’t think I can stand much more. You’re always searching for something outside of all this, and none of what you’re looking for makes any sense to me.’
‘Ruth, honey,’ Sandra says more quietly, eyes widening towards Giles, imploring him to bring the temperature down. ‘You’ve just got it muddled in your head.’ She reaches out and her touch jump-starts Ruth.
‘Give me my daughter.’ Ruth pulls Bess from Sandra’s arms and hugs her baby. Tufty hair dances close to Ruth’s nostril as Sandra blots her eyes with a tissue.
‘Sit down, Ruth,’ Giles says, gravel in his throat.
‘I don’t want to.’ She sways a little with the now-familiar undertow dragging her feet; she’s been cut adrift, marooned. Leila abandoned Bess and left Ruth with the blame. And after all Ruth has risked for her.
Giles takes Ruth’s arm. ‘I need you to do as you’re told, Ruth.’ He leads her to the sofa, her muscles oddly compliant in confusion. His hand gently and persistently pushes her down and her legs fold to the seat, arms still clasped round Bess. Giles pulls out a dining chair and he sits heavily, groaning with bone-deep weariness. ‘Things are going back to how they were at the beginning and I can’t let that happen.’
‘I’m not ill,’ Ruth says, anger whirling that Leila helped deliver this final blow. ‘You can’t send me away.’
Sandra stands to leave and Giles puts a hand out to her. ‘Please, just stay for one more minute.’
‘I’m not sure you need me here for this.’ Sandra’s cheeks are a high pink, like she’s put on extra blusher. ‘I have to get home to Ian, Liam’s waiting for me.’
‘Just for a little while,’ Giles says, keeping his eyes on Ruth. ‘In case . . . well, you know.’ Sandra hides her face behind her hair as she sits back down, and Giles continues. ‘You need to get better, Ruth, and the only way for that to happen is for you to be with people who know how to help. Professional people. Because I’m all out of solutions.’ He slaps his knees with his hands. ‘I’m going to speak to Doctor Fraser. I’m sure they’ll agree with me when they know how much worse things have got. They’ll find a bed on a mother-and-baby unit somewhere – I doubt it will be the psych ward, but if it is, it is, that’s what it’s come to, I don’t care any more. I can look after Bess. And whatever happens, it will be a darn sight better than what you’re putting her through at the moment.’
‘I’m not crazy,’ Ruth says, her heart thumping against her ribs – this battered old muscle that will soon surely break. ‘And I don’t need to go to hospital.’ She leans towards him, holds on to his fingers that remain slack in her grip. ‘I’ve been doing so well recently and we’ve been good too, haven’t we?’ Giles pulls his hand away, blinking hard. Ruth continues, racing towards any excuse that might regain the tiniest bit of his trust. ‘I’m sorry, OK? I wasn’t supposed to go out, I realize that, but I didn’t take Bess with me, just like I promised.’
‘What? When did you promise?’
‘That time I went out in the night, when it was late and Bess wouldn’t sleep.’
‘Jesus, Ruth, if that’s your reasoning, then I’m even more worried about you. I mean, it’s just unacceptable to leave Bess on her own.’
‘I know, I know, I’m sorry. I made a really bad call, I can see that now.’ Her head is dizzy with tension. ‘I just needed something for supper from the shops. You weren’t due back until later and I’m banned from the petrol station, so I went to the Nisa on the high street.’ Her words tumble out as she searches Giles’s face for any sign of softening. ‘I took the car to be quick. I left Bess asleep in her cot so I knew she’d be safe. I didn’t want to wake her by putting her in the car seat because she’s been teething and it had taken me so long to get her to sleep in the first place. I was only meant to be ten minutes, but there was a hold-up.’
He shakes his head, mumbling more to himself than anyone else in the room. ‘You should have thought of that. It’s totally unacceptable.’
‘I made a mistake, that’s all. It doesn’t mean I’m ill. People leave their kids on their own sometimes. It’s not right but it’s not unheard of. They don’t get the police called on them and they don’t get sent to hospital. I promise I won’t do it again, OK? Please, Giles.’
Giles sighs and leans forward. ‘Apparently you’ve been camping out at Miss Cailleach’s and sleeping in the spare bed. There was a nappy and an empty pouch of baby food in the bin.’ His nostrils flare. ‘Liam’s mother’s at death’s door, for God’s sake. He’s not been able to get into her house and all this time you lied to him about having keys!’
‘Frieda wrote a note telling me not to let Liam in. I didn’t know what to do. It’s not like I could question her about it, could I? I was only watering her plants and feeding her cat.’ She straightens her back, looking between Giles and Sandra, whose eyes are locked on each other. Ruth continues, ‘And I . . . I changed Bess on the bed once. Must have forgotten to remake it.’
Giles turns back to Ruth. ‘And what about the rest? These thoughts you’ve been having about losing control and harming Bess?’
‘What? Who told you that?’ Ruth checks Sandra, who’s untangling a clump of hair with her fingers. That day at the cafe when Ruth had felt she was turning a tiny corner, finding the confidence to open up to a friend, and Sandra hadn’t possessed the empathy to understand anything more layered than her own experience. Now she’s turning that singularity back on Ruth. ‘What did you tell him, Sandra? What’ve you said?’
Giles speaks first. ‘Sandra’s been looking out for you and Bess, that’s all. She’s filled in the gaps, put together a picture of what’s been going on.’
Sandra carries on stroking the same piece of hair over and again, mouth curled down. ‘I only repeated what you said to me, hun.’
Ruth stands. ‘How could you? I trusted you.’ She paces out her inadequacy, the shame of believing Sandra was an ally when all along she’s been a double agent. ‘You know I didn’t mean it like that.’
Giles places both hands on Ruth’s shoulders to keep her still and speaks softly as if trying not to spook a horse. ‘Have you hurt Bess? Tell me, you need to b
e honest so I can get her checked out.’
‘Of course not. Are you really going to believe someone like Sandra over me?’
‘You know what?’ Sandra stands and straightens her clothes. ‘I don’t care if you’re not well, I’ve had enough of this now.’ She flicks her mane of hair over her shoulder. ‘I’ve tried and tried, even when I didn’t want to, but I just can’t do it any more.’ Her words are breathy. ‘You are such a snob, Ruth.’
‘That’s not what I meant.’
‘Then what did you mean?’
‘I . . .’ She can’t look Sandra in the face. ‘I don’t know, I’m sorry.’
‘Anyway,’ Sandra continues without even registering Ruth’s words, ‘I’ve seen you flirting with Liam, so don’t give me this wronged friend stuff. He’s told me how you keep coming on to him really strong. It’s embarrassing.’ She glances at Giles. ‘Sorry, I didn’t mean it to come out this way, but you should probably know. She’s deluded about more than just seeing people who aren’t there.’
Giles’s mouth hangs open. ‘I had no idea.’ His eyes are on Ruth and he takes a moment before he follows Sandra to the door. She steps outside. Giles touches her arm. ‘God, I’m so sorry.’
The Hidden Girls Page 22
