by Linda Huber
Steve gripped her arm. ‘You’re cold. Come on, let’s go back to the car and see what you want to do next.’
Daria swung her crutches forward, and Steve put a hand on her arm, steering her back along the pavement. The crutches clicked every time they struck against the pavement, over and over, and the rain was falling ever faster. But here was the car. Steve opened the door, and Daria collapsed into the passenger seat, breathing heavily.
‘Wait. Give me a minute.’
He sat back, and Daria dabbed her wet cheeks with a tissue. A minute to do what? She stared back towards the shops, seeing nothing. The cloudburst was coming to an end, and the sudden flash of light as the sun emerged from behind the clouds was hard to bear. Rain suited this day so much better.
Uncertainty and helplessness were wafting across from Steve, and anyone would understand why. Poor guy – he was probably scared he was out with a poor crazy woman who was going to lose it any moment. A police car sped past, lights flashing, and skidded into the alleyway behind the row of shops. Daria’s gut tightened. Were they looking for Evie too? But there were no sirens, and surely that must mean they hadn’t found her.
Her phone buzzed in her pocket. Noah.
‘Daria – why the shit didn’t you tell me? I’ve just had the police on the phone. This is crazy. Unimaginable. Where are you?’
He was right, of course she should have called him. ‘I’m with a friend. There’s nothing we can do except let the police get on with the search.’
Heavy breathing sounded in her ear. When he spoke again his voice was lower than usual, and uncertain. ‘Shall I come? Are you all right?’
A confrontation with him would be the last straw. ‘Of course I’m not all right. Wait at home, Noah. Call your mother, but leave my parents alone. I’ll be in touch soon, okay?’
Daria ended the call and squinted at Steve. ‘Can we go back to Liane’s, please?’
He jabbed the key into the ignition and the engine leaped into life. ‘Hang on, Daria. You’ll get through this. They must find her.’
Steve reached out and gave her hand a squeeze, and Daria sat silently while they waited for a gap in the rush-hour traffic. The sun was glistening ever brighter on the wet road. Was Evie still outside? Had she sheltered somewhere, or was she wet, desolate, lost, afraid? Or worse. Don’t think it, Daria. Leave the blackest thoughts until you know for sure.
Hopelessness was pinning her down; city streets even in sunshine were no place for Evie all alone. And the ‘golden hour’ was long gone. The likelihood of finding her girl was shrinking with every minute, every second that passed. All she could do now was go back to Liane’s home, to be close to the place where Evie had spent the past four weeks. More than four weeks.
A gap appeared in the traffic, and Steve swung out, grabbing the sun visor to shield his eyes against blinding sunlight. Daria grappled for her sunglasses and jammed them on, staring straight ahead. Ten minutes and they’d be back at—
A horn blared, and a scream – hers? – rang through the car as a small figure pelted out of the cemetery gates, straight into the path of the car in front, which swerved violently. No no no no no.
Steve yanked the car to the side and they screeched to a halt by the burned tree. Daria had the door open before the car had stopped and tumbled out, forgetting her crutches, limping across the street to a growing crowd gathered around a small figure sprawled over the road.
‘Evie!’ Daria dropped to her knees on wet tarmac, bending over her child, fighting off the hands trying to stop her. Evie wasn’t moving.
Chapter 48
The police had left them alone. Jill had given Liane a card with a number to call ‘if you need me’, and she tucked it into her handbag where it wouldn’t get lost, but really, it wasn’t likely she’d need the police when she was here at home with Frith. Unless Bridie – Evie – came back under her own steam, and after all this time, that did seem unlikely.
Frith trailed into the living room, baby doll under one arm. ‘When’s Bridie coming back? And why’s Margie in hospital? Can we take Bridie to visit her? I want Bridie to be here again.’ She flung the doll onto the sofa and folded her arms.
Liane patted her knee, but Frith wasn’t in the mood for cuddles. The little girl perched on the sofa, her chin jutting stubbornly forward. Liane’s heart ached for her. There were no reassurances she could give her poor girl. Was this the time to tell her that Bridie wasn’t Bridie and Margie was dead? Liane gazed into the middle distance. No. Not yet. Better to wait until Evie was found, then at least there’d be good news to mix in with the bad.
‘We’ll ask Steve about Margie when he comes home. She was on his ward, so he’ll know all about it.’ Cripes, that past tense had slipped out.
Fortunately, Frith didn’t notice. ‘And Bridie?’
‘The police are working as hard as they can to find her, don’t worry.’ Inspiration struck, and Liane stood up and held out her hand. ‘But there is one thing we can do to help. I think I know where Tabitha’s hiding.’
Frith’s petulance disappeared as if by magic. She jumped up and took Liane’s hand. ‘Ooh! Can we go and look?’
‘We might need to ask a policeman if we can go into Margie’s house to find Tabitha, but I’m sure they’ll say yes.’
Fingers crossed they would, because there was no saying Tabitha was coping with her new family, was there? Surely no policeman would deny them permission for a quick check.
Margie’s garden was empty of police officers as they crossed the scrubby grass, though several cats appeared and wound their way around Frith and Liane, miaowing loudly.
‘I think it might be dinner time, you know.’ Liane put on her best cheerful voice. Her job was to keep Frithy occupied and as happy as possible, in the circs, and she would give it her best go.
‘Can we feed them?’
The back door was closed, and Liane hesitated. Was this breaking and entering? There was no police seal, though, and when she scooted round the front to look, a solitary officer was on the other side of the road beside his car, talking into his phone. He glanced up as Liane approached Margie’s front gate.
She gestured at the house. ‘Is it okay if I go in to feed the cats?’
He gave her a thumbs-up. Liane swivelled round and trotted back the way she’d come. Frith was sitting on the step trying to stroke about six cats who were clearly queuing up for one thing only, and it wasn’t cuddles.
Inside, the house was eerily quiet – or did it just seem that way because she knew that Margie was gone forever? There wasn’t a sound to be heard from Tabitha’s cupboard, and the door was as she’d left it. Liane scrutinised the messy kitchen. A packet of cat food was leaning crazily against the toaster, and she set Frith to filling food bowls while she did the same with water. When the cats were all occupied, she beckoned to Frith.
‘Don’t make a sound. I think Tabitha’s in here. We’ll have a quick look and if she’s okay, we’ll leave her alone. And, um, any kittens she might have had.’
Margie and Bridie were forgotten as Liane eased the cupboard door open and they peeked in. Tabitha was stretched out in the box, four kittens suckling vigorously. Frith’s face was a picture of awe. Tabitha glared and hissed.
‘She’s fine. We’ll leave her alone, love bug.’ Liane pulled Frith away and pushed the cupboard door to again.
‘When will they come out of the box? Can we have one? Mummy, Tabitha hasn’t had any dinner yet!’
Frith’s anguished whisper filled the kitchen. Liane opened the back door. ‘As soon as the other cats have gone back out, we’ll put some grub down for Tabitha.’ She whipped up both water bowls as an inducement and placed them on the cracked concrete slabs behind the house. Marmaduke and Socks followed her out, but the others were still chomping away and Liane didn’t like to pull food bowls out from under hungry chins. They could wait five more minutes.
Frith was crouched by the cupboard, squinting in through the centimetre-wide gap Liane had
left, but at least she wasn’t fretting about Bridie. Liane pulled out her phone – no messages. Bummer.
The front door rattled as someone knocked vigorously on the other side, and Liane nearly died of shock. Good grief – was that the police officer? Why didn’t he come straight in? Frith sticking close behind her, she strode down the hallway and yanked the door open.
A man in a dapper grey suit stood there, a shock of salt and pepper hair falling over his brow. He stepped back, eyes widening as they went from Liane to Frith.
‘Can I help you?’ Liane took in the cut of the suit and the shine of the black leather briefcase the man was holding. He’d be more at home in a swanky bank, this bloke. What was he doing at Margie’s?
‘I’m sorry – do you live here? I’m looking for Margaret Donohoe?’
What an odd accent he had – guttural Glaswegian with a lilt, somehow, and a hint of something foreign, too.
‘I’m her neighbour. Who are you, please?’
‘I’m her son.’ He slid a hand inside his jacket and presented her with a business card. Liane stared at the name, her heart sinking to her boots. Aiden Donohoe. Oh, my gosh, no. She found her voice and gave Frith a little push towards the kitchen.
‘Just check on Tabitha, would you, baby?’
When the kitchen door swung shut behind Frith, Liane held out a hand to the man. ‘I’m Liane Morton. Aiden, I’m so very sorry…’
Chapter 49
Daria knelt beside Evie, thankfulness flooding her soul. She had her daughter back she had her daughter back she had her daughter back. Evie lay on the wet road, eyes unfocussed, oblivious to her mother by her side, but she was breathing, she was alive. Daria laid a gentle hand on the child’s chest. Evie’s hair was filthy, her little face was pale and she was wearing the same jumper she’d had on the day of the accident, though her trousers were different.
Steve, crouched above Evie, was holding the little girl’s head still. Sirens swooped towards them, their shriek niggling through the haziness in Daria’s mind. She’d heard that swoop of sirens before, right here, lying on the wet road by a tree that would soon be scorched and maimed. But she should focus on here and now.
‘It’s all right, Evie. Mummy’s here. You’re going to be all right.’ Please let that be true.
Two green-clad paramedics arrived, and after checking Evie and talking to Steve, they loaded Evie, now immobilised with a neck collar, into the ambulance. Daria was ushered in too.
Steve called after her. ‘I’ll follow on in the car.’
He was smiling, so Evie couldn’t be badly injured, could she? Daria leaned over and stroked the grubby hair from Evie’s forehead.
‘We’ll soon be at the hospital, darling, and the doctors will put everything right. Mummy’s here.’
‘Mummy?’
A breathy little croak of a voice. Oh, how she’d dreamed of this. Evie was talking to her again. Too choked to speak, Daria squeezed Evie’s hand, and the answering squeeze came. The ambulance moved off, and Daria glanced out. Steve’s car was already gone.
In just ten minutes, her crutches were clacking over the floor of the Children’s Hospital as she walked beside Evie on her trolley. The ache of loss was gone, replaced by apprehension. What if Evie was horribly changed? What if there was something they didn’t know about yet? What if they didn’t let Evie come home to her broken family and her mother who hadn’t insisted on a car seat?
Steve joined them as they were going into A&E. ‘Breathe, Daria. Not long now.’
He was greeted by several people as they went – of course, he’d worked in Children’s before moving on to his current job. Evie was taken into Paediatric Trauma, an echoing chasm of a room with six generous treatment bays. Steve pulled Daria back a few steps as the team of doctors and nurses descended on the trolley. Evie was definitely awake now, and definitely not too horribly injured because she was answering yes and no to the questions they were asking her and moving her arms and legs as directed. Daria’s tears were flowing freely, but these were healing tears. Two nurses moved away, and Evie looked straight at her.
A young doctor stepped over to Daria. ‘She has no obvious injuries apart from grazed knees and a scrape on the head. I’ll talk to the consultant and we’ll do a scan to see if it shows anything. We’ll keep her still for the moment, but I’d say she’s got away with it.’
Daria staggered backwards, and Steve gave her a little push. ‘Evie’s waiting. On you go, Mrs.’
Dark blue eyes widened as Daria arrived at the trolley – something solid to hold on to – and she stretched out her hand to touch Evie’s head. Take it slowly, Daria. Oh, my, in four short weeks her child had shot up. All the baby chubbiness was gone. Daria bent her head and held her face next to Evie’s. She was floating on air, she was delirious with elation, but deep inside she was raging too, wasn’t she? Raging at the taxi driver, at Margie, at herself and Noah for not being better parents while Evie was gone. No one could say if this oddly silent little girl would ever be the same Evie again – in fact, she wouldn’t be. None of them would come back unchanged from what had happened.
There was a commotion outside, and voices, then a nurse ushered Noah in. He crept up to the trolley and put a trembling hand on Evie’s head, stretching his other arm towards Daria. Daria stood frozen to the spot, then grasped the offered hand. Evie needed her family.
It took an hour, but by the time Evie returned from her scan, she was talking again and her eyes were shining in almost the old way.
‘She’s a trouper,’ said the nurse who arrived with the scan results. ‘We don’t often have kids that age who cooperate so well, and it speeds things up no end.’
Evie pulled herself up to sit cross-legged on the trolley. A tiny smile flickered over her face. ‘I was looking and looking for you, Mummy. I couldn’t find the right house.’ She frowned, peering at Daria’s crutches. ‘Why have you got those?’
Daria bent her head and kissed Evie’s forehead. Nothing, nothing else mattered. ‘I broke my leg. I was looking for you, too, all this time. Can I give you a big hug?’
Evie stretched out both arms, and Daria pressed the child to her heart. The consultant arrived and reached for Evie’s arm, bending her wrist this way and that and feeling up and down the length of the bones before pressing around on her hand.
His eyes crinkled at Daria. ‘Her head’s fine, and we only found one other injury, which I’d guess was from the accident four weeks ago. She had a greenstick fracture here below her elbow, but it’s healed beautifully. We’ll keep her in tonight as she was pretty dazed when she came in, but all being well, she can go home tomorrow.’
‘Mummy, I want to see Frith. And Mammy. And Tabitha and the cats.’
Her heart breaking, Daria reached out and stroked Evie’s grubby hair. ‘We’ll see Frith very soon, I promise. And Liane.’
Evie nodded solemnly. ‘And Mammy.’
Steve came up to the trolley. ‘Mammy’s in another hospital, Evie. She’s – sick, I’m afraid. Don’t worry, Liane and Frith are going to feed the cats.’
‘I want to see Tabitha’s kitties, too, when she has them.’
Pleading eyes were staring at her, and Daria managed a smile.
‘I think we’ll manage that.’ She would manage anything now.
Steve put a hand on her shoulder and murmured in her ear. ‘Liane’s next door with someone you’ll want to talk to later. He’ll be able to give you more insight into Margie.’
Evie pulled at Daria’s sleeve. ‘Is Frith there too?’
Steve shook his head. ‘She’s at Oliver’s. She’ll see you tomorrow, huh?’ He bent his head closer to Daria’s ear and murmured, and Daria breathed out through pursed lips. Oh, my. Margie’s son was here. How horribly tragic.
If Aiden Donohoe had come just a day earlier… Daria dabbed her eyes. It was too late for Margie and Aiden, but not for her and Evie. She would grab this chance she’d been given to be Evie’s mum again. Life was for living, and she w
ould live every minute to the full.
Day Thirty-Four – Wednesday 20th May
Chapter 50
‘I liked it better when Bridie lived with Margie. And I don’t want all the cats to go to a nice new home.’
Frith stomped across the kitchen, scowling at the toast and chocolate spread Liane had waiting for her. Liane pulled up a chair too. The news that her little friend was going to live with Daria, and the looming loss of the cats – the RSPCA were picking them up tomorrow morning – had hit poor Frithy hard, harder even than the news that Margie was dead.
‘We’ll go over when the cat people come. You can help them check they’ve got everyone, and say goodbye. And we’ll ask about a kitten for us, too, shall we?’
Frith’s scowl lifted marginally. ‘One of Tabitha’s?’
‘We’ll see. But kittens stay with their mums for a few weeks, remember.’
Frith’s lips were trembling, and Liane nearly dropped her coffee mug as inspiration zinged into her head.
‘Which is your favourite cat, love bug? Apart from Tabitha?’
Frith cocked her head. ‘Socks, because he plays a lot and he has nice feet.’
‘Mm. I think so too.’ Say no more, Liane. No point making promises you don’t know you’ll be able to keep, but if they were having one cat, they might as well have two… Her mobile buzzed in her pocket, and she slid it out to read the message from Daria. All good for this afternoon. See you in the car park at two? Coffee at The Swan Hotel afterwards.
Liane sent a text to confirm and sat back with her toast. A child-friendly memorial for Margie was a brilliant idea. Aiden was taking the ashes back to New Zealand, where he and his brother would have a ceremony of their own, but he’d been touchingly pleased to join in with Daria’s idea too. And this afternoon would bring closure for Evie.
The park where Daria and Noah had planted their tree was north of the city. Liane hadn’t been there since she was a child, but it was a lovely area. They went in Steve’s car, and pulled into the car park to see Daria, Noah and Evie there already, with Kit Johns and an older couple who must be Noah’s parents. Frith rushed over to Evie, her face alight.
