Daria's Daughter

by Linda Huber

  ‘Right.’ Sergeant Bryson poked at the bag. ‘That’s not enough for us to be sure this was Evie’s jacket, and even if it is, we still have to find out how it got here.’

  Was he doubting the jacket was Evie’s? Daria grappled for her phone. ‘I have a photo of her wearing it. There’s a mark on one sleeve.’ She scrolled though photos; Evie laughing over a game, Evie in the bath, Evie blowing out birthday candles. Here it was, Evie in the park with her pink jacket. The usual agony poured into Daria’s heart. She might get Evie’s jacket back, but what did a scrap of material matter when her child was gone forever?

  Liane came running downstairs. ‘Frith’s playing in her room. What’s happening? Are you okay, Daria?’ She sat down heavily on the sofa, glancing at the photo on Daria’s phone.

  ‘Is that…? But – oh my God!’

  Daria jumped in fright as Liane clapped one hand over her mouth and stretched her other hand out to Steve.

  ‘Steve, oh, no – look.’

  Daria almost dropped her mobile. ‘Liane? What are you—’

  Liane’s hand was shaking as she pointed to the photo on the phone. ‘That’s Bridie. Isn’t it, Steve? I don’t understand.’

  Daria clasped her hands together. The world was revolving around her and she was deadly still and quiet in the centre of it all. Her breathing was calm now, calm as death. The accident. The forgotten crash. And then… she’d heard a child cry; she’d been so sure it was Evie. If Margie was passing and saw Evie on the ground…

  Was it even remotely possible that Bridie was Evie?

  Daria moaned, pressing both hands against her chest, oh, she was so full here; she was bursting with the hope and the horror of it all. Her wonderful, sweet Evie with a frail, sick old lady in a house that was ‘in a state’, for weeks and weeks? No, no, please, that mustn’t be. But what was she talking about, of course she hoped with all her heart that Evie’d been there in filth and squalor all this time because that would mean Evie was Bridie, and Bridie was alive.

  But where was she?

  Liane was crying quietly, and Steve put his arm around her. ‘Daria – do you want to call Noah?’ His eyes met hers over the top of Liane’s head.

  Noah? No, no. Not yet, not until there was definite news. ‘Later.’

  Sergeant Bryson plucked the phone from Daria’s hand. ‘We’ll need that photo.’ He strode out to the hallway to talk on his own phone, his deep voice droning as he paced up and down, but Daria couldn’t make out what he was saying. She leaned forward, her elbows on her thighs and her head resting in her hands. Upstairs, Frith shrieked for her mother, and Liane ran, leaving Daria alone with Steve and Jill. Her stomach was churning furiously.

  Frith’s high-pitched voice floated downstairs, saying something about Daddy, and Daria’s throat closed in grief and frustration. Her child had been here in this district, in Liane’s garden, all this time, and no one had known.

  What would have been going through her girl’s head all these weeks? Daria bit down on her lower lip and tasted blood. A month was an eternity at that age. Evie might have been concussed, confused, she might think she was Bridie, she might think Margie was her true family. Perhaps she didn’t remember her real home. And that was before you even began to think about how she might have been injured in the accident. All these unknowns, too many of them. And where was she?

  Panic rose in a huge wave and broke over Daria. If she didn’t get her Evie back, her life would be destroyed for the second time.

  Chapter 45

  It was as if she had taken root in Liane’s sofa. Daria pressed her phone, now returned to her, against her heart, her eyes following Frith as the little girl followed Liane into the room. Both of them sat down in the armchair vacated by Sergeant Bryson, Frith cuddled on Liane’s lap. Daria’s throat closed.

  ‘Mummy, when will the police find Bridie?’

  Liane stroked the little girl’s head. ‘Soon, I hope, sweetie.’

  Steve appeared with a tray of mugs and handed them round. ‘Drink, Daria. You’ve had a shock.’

  Daria accepted a mug of sweet tea and sipped. She didn’t even have the strength to find it disgusting, she cared about nothing except her girl. Bitterness rose in her throat as Frith nestled further into Liane. Some people had all the luck. Oh, that wasn’t fair, Frith’s little life had been full of bad luck as well as good, but at least Liane had her child to cuddle. What if the police didn’t find Evie? What if the worst happened and her daughter vanished all over again, this time for ever?

  ‘Mummy? I want Bridie to come home.’

  Frith’s lips were trembling, and Daria winced. The child wasn’t stupid, she knew something was wrong here. How to start explaining to her that Bridie wasn’t Bridie?

  ‘Policemen are good at finding people, Frith.’

  Reassuring, nursey tones from Steve.

  The little girl pouted. ‘O–kay. And when Bridie comes back very soon, can she stay for tea? And cake?’

  Liane kissed the worried little face. ‘We’ll see.’

  And all the time they were waiting, waiting. Daria thumped her mug down on the coffee table. This was wrong, she should be out there, doing something, looking for her girl. She half-stood up, then dropped back onto the sofa as Jill came into the room.

  ‘We’ve got dozens if not hundreds of officers out combing the streets, Daria, and Evie’s photo’s being distributed everywhere.’

  What did ‘everywhere’ mean? Anger hardened Daria’s voice. ‘It might not be enough. She’s only four years old – suppose she’s been taken again?’

  ‘That’s what we’re trying to prevent. Is there anyone we can contact for you? Evie’s father?’

  ‘We’re separated. I should – I’d better give you his number.’ Daria passed her phone to Jill to note the number, then jerked round to stare into Liane’s face. ‘Can you drive?’

  ‘Yes, but—’

  ‘I want to go out looking too. Can you take me?’

  Jill was shaking her head. ‘That’s not a good idea, Daria, you’re distraught and—’

  ‘I’ll be more than distraught if my daughter isn’t found! There can’t be too many people out looking, can there?’ Daria pushed herself to her feet and stepped over to her crutches, lying abandoned beside the sofa.

  Jill put a hand on her shoulder. ‘We can go in a police car if you—’

  ‘No. A police car might scare Evie off. I want to go alone with Liane.’

  She grabbed her crutches and stood straight.

  Liane shrugged at Jill. ‘I can take you in Steve’s car, I guess. Are you insured for me driving it?’

  He was shaking his head. ‘Sorry. It’s insured for me and Jon only. I’ll take you, Daria. Liane should stay with Frith anyway.’

  Frith was wide-eyed on her mother’s lap. ‘Why’s Daria looking like that? Is she cross with Bridie?’

  Liane kissed her. ‘No, baby. She’s just worried. We’ll stay here in case Bridie comes back by herself, huh? We’ll make some strawberry milk while Steve and Daria are out looking for her.’

  ‘Ooh, yes!’ Frith vanished into the kitchen.

  Liane hugged Daria tightly. ‘They’ll find her, Daria. They have to.’

  Jill sat down again. ‘I’ll contact you straightaway if anything happens here, then.’

  Daria looped her bag over her head and followed Steve outside. Last time she’d been in this car was the day she’d lost Frith and Liane had been so angry with her. Now it was Evie who was lost, lost once after the accident and lost again before she’d ever been found. Dear God.

  Steve jabbed the key into the ignition. ‘Where do you want to go?’

  ‘You know the area better than I do. Where would a little girl run off to?’

  ‘Frith told Jill they’d gone up the hill and seen some houses that Br— Evie said were like your place. Let’s see if we can find those.’

  Daria gave him a brief nod. But the police were already doing this, weren’t they?

 
Steve drove up the hill and along Montgomery Road, passing some fabulous old detached houses with large gardens. These hadn’t been split into flats, but she could see why Evie’d thought they were like home.

  They came to a mini roundabout, and Steve steered the car right round it. ‘Evie wouldn’t have come this far, would she? Let’s go back and try the other direction.’

  Daria couldn’t speak. If someone had bundled Evie into a car, she could be anywhere by now. Her heart thudded painfully as they passed a couple of police cars. Several officers were out on foot too; they’d be talking to the people who lived in the houses. Had anyone seen Evie? But they’d let her know, if anyone had. Wouldn’t they? The traffic was moving faster here; they’d left the residential area and were passing the cemetery and—

  ‘Stop! Please. I want to get out for a moment.’

  Steve shot her an uneasy glance and pulled over into a narrow parking space beside a row of shops. He switched off the engine. ‘Is this…?’

  Daria pushed her door open and got out, not speaking. Steve came round to help her. Rain was falling now, fat drops plopping onto her jacket, turning the pale blue several shades darker. Dark to match her life. Daria stood with her back to the car, staring down the road, her mouth working.

  ‘That’s where it happened. The accident.’ She swung forward on her crutches and Steve followed. Daria limped on, away from the shops, past an empty building and – here. She stopped, rain mingling with the tears on her face. Across the road was the cemetery, further on was the college and the burned tree, blackened further now by rain.

  Steve put a hand on her shoulder and rubbed. ‘Do you remember being here?’

  ‘Vaguely. I remember lying on the ground and hearing Evie crying. Everything hurt. Next thing I knew I was in the hospital. By that time, it was the Saturday and they’d operated on my leg. Oh, why can’t I remember more, Steve?’

  He put an arm across her shoulders, hugging tightly without knocking her off balance; Christ, he was too good to be true, this bloke. Despair washed over Daria along with the rain. Margie had somehow taken Evie away, and no one had seen it. And even that didn’t matter because Margie was dead now and Evie was who knew where. There was no comfort in all the world that anyone could give her. Daria whimpered.

  ‘Daria, do you want to go back? We could drive round the park near Liane’s.’

  Daria wriggled her shoulders away and started up the road, her face grim. ‘I want to go into those shops first, and show them Evie’s photo.’

  Her crutches slid on the wet pavement, but she didn’t stop walking.

  Chapter 46

  The funny music was in the far corner. Evie trotted along to where the sound was coming from, but a row of bushes at the end of the path was hiding whatever was behind them. She came to the end of the row and peeked round the bushes and – how lovely! It was like a little fairy garden here, with much smaller stones, and most of them were white, not grey or black like the big ones, and as well as flowers they had toys here, too, and stone angels and windmills, and – a windchime was stuck in the ground beside one of the white stones and it was making the tinkly music. Evie crouched down to look at it. It was a bit like the one a friend of Grandma Millie’s had hanging up in her window, one day when Grandma Millie had taken Evie there to visit. This one was nicer, it had silver tubes hanging from a round silver circle, and it was making lovely fairy music.

  She stood up again and moved to the next stone. This one was shaped like a heart, and there was only one word on it. When she was bigger, she’d learn to read, but she knew the first letter already; it was a D like Mummy had in her name.

  A cold wet splash hit her hand, and Evie turned her face up to the sky. Dark grey clouds were pushing against each other and big fat raindrops were pattering down faster and faster. The stone angels were getting wet. She should go back to Mammy’s, and if Mammy still wasn’t there she could go and find – oh, no! Evie pressed her hand against her mouth. She’d forgotten all about Frith, waiting in the den. Back around the hedge, quick, onto the bigger path, along to the gates, out onto the street, and it was this way now. Or that way? No, this way.

  Evie started along the pavement, then her tummy went all tight and sore. The funny old man was there. He was limping along, coming closer and closer. Better go the other way after all; she didn’t want to have to run past him. Quick!

  The road was busier again. Cars were swishing along fast and nobody else was out in the rain. A car skidded just ahead, tyres screeching before it caught its balance and went on. Evie stopped, her hands pressed to her cheeks. That screech – it was making her tummy all funny and scared. She pressed back against the wall and looked across the road at a big building. What had happened to the tree over there? It was all sad and burned and this wasn’t a nice place, look, no no no – big boys were shouting at each other, further along the road. Run, Evie, quick, away.

  Evie ducked back in through the cemetery gates and ran past the first few rows of stones. She’d go back to the windchimes and the angels. It was safe there. Where was the little path going to the stone angels? It wasn’t here, and the fairy music was gone too; all you could hear was rain pattering on the path and people shouting in the distance. The big tree wasn’t far away, though. It would be dry under there.

  Evie pushed past the thin branches that were almost down to the ground, and yes, it was almost dry under the tree. This was like a tree house. She would sit here with her back against the tree trunk and wait until the rain stopped and then she’d go home to Mammy’s. The tree was making a whooshing sound in the wind. She and Mammy had been here once, hadn’t they? Maybe Mammy was back now, wondering where Bridie was. And Tabitha might be, too, maybe she’d had her kitties and they were all waiting. And Mammy would make beans on toast for tea, and they’d sit on the sofa with the cats and tell stories about Ireland. Oh, she wanted to go back there, back to Mammy and Tallulah and Tabitha and everyone, and be safe. Mammy was happy when they were all home together. Evie pulled her knees up to her chest and leaned her head on damp blue trousers. She didn’t want to cry here, all alone.

  ‘Room for another one?’

  Evie jerked up, pressing back against the tree. Oh, no. It was the old man with the big coat. Her throat was stuck; she couldn’t say a word to stop him coming right in under the tree and sitting down almost beside her. He pulled a can of beer from under his coat and popped it open.

  He winked at her. ‘Good day for the ducks, eh?’

  His voice was fuzzy like cotton wool. Evie gaped. ‘Why?’

  ‘They like the wet, don’t they? It’s fair pi— pouring down out there. You’ve found the best place, hen. What’s your name?’

  Evie wrinkled her nose as he leaned his head back and had a long drink from his can. Daddy had beer sometimes too and it smelled yukky. The old man smelled too, worse than the beer. She inched away.

  ‘Sometimes I’m Bridie and sometimes I’m Evie.’

  ‘And who are you today?’

  He was chuckling into his can, then he coughed like Mammy.

  ‘Bridie.’ But was she? She’d been looking for Mummy, hadn’t she, and at Mummy’s she was Evie. But that was such a long time ago. A drip landed on Evie’s hand, and she wiped it off. It was sad when you wanted to be in two places and you didn’t know how to get to either of them.

  ‘Well, Bridie, when this rain stops, we should go home. Where do you live? You’re very small to be out all by yourself.’

  The old man rummaged around under his coat. His hand came out with a scrunched-up paper bag. He opened it out and offered it to Evie.

  ‘Reckon you’ll feel better after a sweetie, hen. Go on, take one. They’re magic sweeties. They make the rain go off.’

  Evie stood up. There was something wrong about the man, and Mummy had always said, never take sweeties from strangers because they would make you ill. That would be nasty and she’d been ill once when she was at Mammy’s so she didn’t want to be ill again. Anyway, Ma
mmy had drunk all the pink medicine.

  ‘Go on, hen. Take one.’

  He was standing up – he was coming after her! Evie ran, fast as she could, back towards the big black iron gates. Quick, quick, home to Mammy.

  Chapter 47

  They walked along the narrow pavement, side by side but without speaking. A food bank was first in the row of half a dozen shops, and Daria turned in. It was well populated; dear heavens, what had the world come to? Steve stood by as she showed Evie’s photo around amongst a warm wave of Glasgow concern. But no one had seen Evie, and they returned to the street. No one in the bookmaker’s had seen the little girl, and neither had the assistant in the newsagent’s.

  ‘I don’t think so, but we get so many kids coming in and out here.’

  ‘But you definitely didn’t see this child today?’

  Righteous indignation filled the woman’s voice. ‘If she’d come in alone, I’d have called the police. Kids that size shouldn’t be out on their own. Unbelievable what some parents allow their kids to do these days.’

  As if she was to blame for small children going into the shop alone. All Daria could do was thank the woman and swing out of the shop again, Steve holding the door for her. On the pavement they stood still and looked at each other.

  ‘Daria, we shouldn’t be doing this. You could end up getting an earful of abuse. This is a job for the police.’

  Raindrops were splashing ever faster onto their heads, and Daria’s heart sank in defeat. The odds of finding anyone who’d seen Evie today were minute. She shivered. On a sunny day, there’d be more chance of people being out and about for the joy of it, with time to notice a small girl out on her own, but not today.