Bound By Blood

by Paul J. Teague

  ‘Why do you have Hollie’s phone?’ Callie snapped.

  ‘As I said, it’s a long story. But if it’s any consolation, I can take you directly to Hollie Wickes. Both you and I need to find some answers from her.’

  Isla brought a bowl of chips over on a tray.

  ‘Thanks, Isla, that’s great. Are you allowed to eat chips, Callie?’

  ‘Yes, thank you. Remember, I don’t know who Callie Irwin is. That’s why I’m here. You can help me, so I don’t have to get involved with the police.’

  She looked away, avoiding Charlotte’s gaze.

  ‘And I need somewhere to stay. I was also thinking of contacting that Nigel Davies chap who’s also reporting on the news story, but he doesn’t have a guest house. I hope it’s not too much to ask?’

  ‘It’s no problem at all. Of course we can find you a room here.’

  ‘I’ll leave these with you,’ Isla said, passing over the tray. ‘As I said, if George or I can help out, just say.’

  Charlotte nodded.

  ‘I hope those chips will keep you going for now. We can cook something more substantial for you later if you’d like. Just tell me what you can and can’t eat. We cater for a lot of vegetarians and vegans these days, but I don’t have much experience with diabetics.’

  Callie tucked into the chips and Charlotte gave her some time to finish the bowlful. They were gone in no time at all.

  ‘So, what are we going to do next?’ Charlotte asked.

  ‘I want to understand what happened,’ Callie replied. ‘I can’t get my head around this; it’s been so sudden. If I hadn’t fallen into a coma and then had the police confirm it through the DNA test, I wouldn’t have believed it. Apparently, my birth mother is somewhere in this town, but nobody can tell me where. Or they don’t want to tell me. I bet you know, don’t you?’

  Charlotte thought about Tiffany, held in the care home as if it was a prison, wondering for all those years what had happened to her babies. She couldn’t begin to contemplate how painful it must be.

  ‘I do know where your mother is. I’ve met her and I’m sure there wasn’t a day that passed without her thinking about you and your siblings—’

  ‘And that’s another thing,’ Callie interrupted. ‘The news stories reckon I’m supposed to have a brother too. And what the hell happened to my birth dad? Did he survive? My head feels like it’s going to explode. It’s so hard to deal with it all.’ Her voice quivered with emotion.

  Charlotte put her arm out to comfort her.

  ‘Where do you want to start?’ she asked quietly.

  ‘At the beginning,’ Callie replied. ‘I want to go to the slipway and hear the full story from you, with nothing left out. I want to understand what happened that night. And then I want to find my birth family.’

  Chapter Four

  Christmas 1998

  Tiffany placed the final bauble on the Christmas tree and held up the golden star for Callie and Jane to look at in the playpen. She’d put the tree close enough for them to get a good look, but not so close that they could lunge for any of the decorations. Both were at the stage where anything small and capable of choking them invariably ended up in their mouths. And now the baby was kicking away like it wanted to break out and enjoy its first Christmas ahead of schedule.

  It was a struggle to stretch up and place the star on the tree, with her stomach being so rounded. She placed it to the side; she’d ask David to do it when – or if – he decided to show his face that night.

  ‘Okay Callie, Jane, are you ready for the lights?’

  Excitement burst from the confinement of the playpen. She counted down from three; after all, it was never too soon to start basic number work.

  ‘Ready? Three... two... one... go!’

  The lights began to flash, making both girls whoop with delight. Tiffany moved over to the light switch and turned off the main lighting in the living room. The glow from the bulbs cast pretty shadows from the branches across the walls and the blue, yellow, red and green hues created a pyrotechnics display for the two children to wonder at.

  Tiffany sat in the armchair by the side of the tree and gave her legs a rest. This baby seemed heavier than the first two; she couldn’t recall waddling at six months before.

  She heard a car door slam outside. The children jumped in expectation and moments later David Irwin burst through the door. His mood on entering the house was all-important. There was a time, not so long ago, when he would step into the hallway and give the children a cheery welcome. It had been short-lived. The children picked up on his mood immediately and Jane began to cry.

  As he came into view in the doorway of the lounge, he tripped over two small pairs of red wellington boots which had been discarded in the hall when they’d come back from a walk in the village. Tiffany had forgotten to line them up tidily, as David preferred.

  ‘Jesus, Tiffany, I’ve told you before about cleaning up the kids’ crap. It’s all over the place; their toys are like a creeping rash. Tidy up, for Christ’s sake. It’s like living in a pigsty.’

  Tiffany had learned from experience it was better to say nothing. She’d tried defending herself once, saying she had her hands full and the pregnancy was tiring her out so much that she could barely keep up with her own basic needs, let alone look after the kids, but it hadn’t had any effect. David was not the sort of man who mucked in, but he had a strong impulse towards tidiness and order. At least he didn’t hit her or the children; he kept things verbal.

  She tried to ignore David’s huffing as he turned back to the hall to take off his shoes and coat. They’d be put away neatly, for sure. As he walked into the lounge, he changed the mood instantly, like an unwelcome guest at a party. The baby jumped inside her. Ever since she’d felt the movement in her belly, she’d been aware how tense she was around her husband. It was as if the baby was urging her to get rid of this man before it showed its tiny face.

  The girls looked expectantly at him, but he didn’t respond. Tiffany could have cried as she saw Jane raise her arms to be picked up. If he saw it, he didn’t show it.

  ‘I’ve decided you’re not coping well again, Tiffany,’ he announced after examining the tree. ‘You’re struggling, I can tell.’

  ‘I’m fine, really I am—’ she began.

  ‘It’s not just the boots and the mess. Look at you. It’s not even five o’clock and you look like you’re ready for bed already.’

  ‘It’s just that the girls are tiring, there’s a lot to do—’

  ‘Anyhow, I’ve sorted it. It won’t be a problem anymore.’

  She looked at him, knowing she had no say in this. All she could do was wait to hear what he’d decided in her absence.

  ‘I’m bringing someone in, a nanny,’ he began. ‘I’m moving her into the other en suite bedroom at the end of the upstairs hallway. She’ll be self-contained over there and close to the children.’

  ‘We don’t need any help—’

  ‘Have you got dinner on yet, Tiffany?’

  ‘No, I’ve been doing the Christmas tree with the girls.’

  ‘Exactly. You can’t even stay on top of the basics. You need some help. The sooner we can get you back on your meds, the better—’

  ‘David, I told you, I’m not taking medication while I’m pregnant.’

  This was the closest she got to a protest. The kids’ welfare forced her to stand up for herself. She tried to be grateful for the smaller things; at least he didn’t get violent or shout, but he appeared to have very little interest in any of them.

  ‘Are you advertising for a nanny?’ she ventured.

  ‘It’s sorted already,’ he announced, walking over to the pile of post she’d left for him on a bookshelf. Most of the post had his name on it; the words Mr & Mrs Irwin were a rare sight on an envelope these days.

  ‘Sorted? What do you mean? Don’t I get a say in who comes into my house?’

  ‘There’s really no need,’ he continued, as if she was an annoy
ing fly which had dared to buzz into the house. ‘She’s highly recommended and is exceptionally good with children. She just happened to have an opening, so I snatched her up. She’s never done live-in before, but her flat is up at the end of December and she needs somewhere to stay. It makes perfect sense.’

  Nothing about the situation made any sense to Tiffany. He’d swept through her life like a tornado, charming and attentive to her and the children at first, but the moment the whirlwind romance was cemented by a marriage certificate, the remoteness began. But after what she’d been through, she was glad for some stability in their lives; love didn’t seem to matter so much.

  Being off the pills helped. Having Jane so close to Callie had knocked her for six. Her world had spiralled out of control. She’d never known anything like it. She hadn’t had any previous problems with mental illness. The medication had helped, and when David came into her life, he’d consulted a doctor friend who had prescribed something stronger. It certainly solved the problem, but she hated being on it. It gave her a sense of not being herself, as if she was existing outside her own body. This pregnancy gave her the ideal excuse to come off the medication and regain some sense of control over her mind.

  ‘Do I get to find out who she is?’ Tiffany asked. She knew she had the chance to ask a few questions now, then he’d brush her aside, tired of pretending she even had a say in the matter.

  ‘Her name is Joanne Taylor; she lives in Morecambe and she’s the same age as you. She doesn’t have kids of her own, but she’s had lots of experience working with young children. She’s moving in on December 30th, the day before her tenancy ends. I’ve arranged for her to meet you tomorrow morning. You’ll like her, she’s great.’

  With every move David made, she wondered when she’d dig her heels in and insist enough was enough. But she never found the energy for it. Each little thing didn’t seem worth a big bust up in front of the children, but when she looked at the ground she’d lost in her own life, it added up. If only she’d fought harder, but she was always so worn out, constantly postponing the battle for another day.

  David was working through his post, all of it typewritten and official. He stopped at one letter and studied it.

  ‘You still haven’t signed the paperwork, Tiffany. I thought we discussed this?’

  ‘I’ve been so busy with the children. I wanted to take a proper look at everything first. It’s a big step.’

  David moved over to her, kissing her on the forehead and waving his hands playfully at the children. They jumped at his attention like stray dogs being thrown a scrap of meat by a butcher. She loved it on the rare occasions when he was kind and engaged. It was why she’d fallen for him in the first place. But now she’d take any kindness, wherever it came from.

  ‘I’d better start getting dinner on. You must be hungry,’ she said.

  David helped her out of the armchair. Even that felt like a major operation; soon she’d need a pulley system to hoist her up. Cooking a meal was the last thing she felt like doing. She would have slept for a straight twenty-four hours if she could. But she had to stall him from the paperwork. She would smear some food over the forms, pretending the kids had spoiled them. Then she’d make an excuse about the replacement paperwork going missing in the post.

  Once the birth was safely out of the way, she finally had a plan and the hope of a new life. She just had to hang on in there a little longer for the sake of the kids. She’d already made the concession of using David’s surname for the children. There was no way she would let David adopt the two girls.

  Chapter Five

  ‘You need to eat and rest,’ Charlotte told Callie. ‘I know I do, and you’ve just come out of hospital, so you have even more reason to get a good night’s sleep.’

  She thought about Will. She had a small advantage over Vinnie Mace for a short time. As far as he knew, she could have drowned at sea after he was forced back to the shoreline. She assumed he would have searched her car and possibly found the document hidden beneath the spare wheel there. However, the other papers were still secure, one set in Jed’s boat and the other on its way after she’d posted it to herself earlier that day.

  She could risk a night staying in the guest house. The police and RNLI hadn’t been involved in her rescue, so there was no official record of what had happened out at sea. It would give her some time to trace Will’s last movements, and if her meeting with Toni Lawson went well, she would call in the cavalry and put an end to everything. She had to get Will back safely, without alerting the rogue copper at the police station.

  ‘I’m going to put you in room 10,’ Charlotte said as she stood up. ‘Eat what you want; there won’t be a bill.’

  ‘Thank you.’

  Callie stared up at her with exhaustion in her eyes.

  ‘You know, the night before I was found in a coma, I actually slept on the beach,’ she said. ‘I won’t be doing that again. I was in such a rush when I left home, I forgot to take my cash card too.’

  ‘Well, you’d always have been welcome here,’ Charlotte said, and she held Callie’s gaze, so she knew how sincerely she meant it.

  ‘But please promise me one thing.’

  ‘Of course. What is it?’

  ‘Please promise me you won’t contact Hollie Wickes, not just yet, even though you must be desperate to speak to her. Besides, I have her phone, and I intend to return it.’

  Callie studied Charlotte’s face as if she was trying to work out whether she could trust her.

  ‘Is there a reason for that?’

  ‘Yes, a good one. Hollie reached out to my husband at the university; she’s a student there. Doesn’t that strike you as a bit odd? Why would she? We’re not even involved with—’

  ‘What?’ Callie probed.

  Of course they were involved with it. If DCI Summers was linked through her brother and had laid her hands on documents which Vinnie Mace and Fabian Armstrong wanted, then Will was a route to Charlotte. Her connection with DCI Summers had been well catalogued in the newspaper coverage of their last escapades together.

  They wanted DCI Summers, and Will was just the fall guy for some set-up or blackmail. But why would Hollie Wickes get involved? Charlotte decided to keep her questions to herself for the time being. She also thanked her lucky stars that she hadn’t given Will too hard a time over her suspicion that he was having an affair.

  ‘I just remembered I have a meeting along the road just before five o’clock. It’s an important one too, with the police press officer. Let me have this meeting, you get a good night’s rest, and we’ll sort all this out tomorrow. I’m exhausted too, I’ve had quite a day.’

  Charlotte explained to Isla what was going on and asked her to keep a room free for her that night. If she used the rear entrance and didn’t enter the family accommodation, she would be safe from Vinnie Mace for the time being. She had the mobile number from which he’d called her earlier that day; she would call him next time, when she was no longer on the back foot.

  She looked at the clock in the hallway.

  ‘You know what I’m going to say, don’t you?’ she grimaced at Isla. ‘It’ll be over soon; I’ll be back here over-cooking the fried eggs before you know it.’

  ‘Go off, do what you have to do and be safe. I’ll hold the fort here. Just come back to us in one piece.’

  Charlotte yearned for sleep, but once the meeting with Toni was out of the way, she could take to her bed and then devote her energy to finding Will the following day. Poor Will. Hang on in there one more night, she told herself. She prayed they wouldn’t harm her husband as long as they believed DCI Summers was alive. He was their guarantee that she wouldn’t snitch to the police too.

  She changed out of the clothing she’d been given by the wind farm team and felt immediately more human. Things were getting so bad that Isla hadn’t even commented on her temporary clothing.

  When she arrived at Brucciani’s, she cursed her bad luck. It was closed already and they
were wiping the tables down as she walked through the door.

  ‘Sorry my darling,’ the waitress said as she looked up. ‘We’ve stopped serving.’

  Charlotte apologised and looked around for Toni then checked her phone. Damn, Toni hadn’t even got back to her yet. She paced up and down outside the café until the waitress started giving her funny looks. As she stood at the kerb, looking up and down the street, Toni frightened the life out of her by approaching from behind.

  ‘Hey, Charlotte, good to see you. Nice to see you’ve put some decent clothes on since last time.’

  She laughed at her own quip and Charlotte joined in. It was a good job Toni hadn’t seen her half an hour earlier.

  ‘The café is closed, I’m afraid. Shall we walk over to the Midland Hotel and grab a table there?’

  ‘Yes, why not?’ Toni agreed, looking across the road towards the hotel. ‘Would you believe it, I’ve been in my new post almost a month and I still haven’t been in there yet.’

  They crossed the road, bought soft drinks and found a seat. It wasn’t yet six o’clock, so they were in the quiet phase between late afternoon teas and the arrival of the early drinkers.

  ‘Sorry I didn’t get your text. I’ve been in meetings all afternoon, but I saw it as I was getting ready to leave the office and dashed over in the car.’

  ‘I’m relieved you did; I didn’t want to wait until tomorrow to speak to you.’

  ‘How can I help you?’ Toni began. ‘You said it was about a police issue. I might not be the best person to speak to.’

  ‘You’re the only person I can speak to at the moment,’ Charlotte replied. ‘Do you know DCI Kate Summers?’

  ‘Not personally. She’s the most wanted police officer in Morecambe at the moment. But I’ve only exchanged a few words with her, all about press matters rather than personal issues. Why?’

  ‘I have to know I can trust you.’

  ‘Of course you can, Charlotte.’

  ‘There’s a bad cop in Morecambe. I don’t know who it is, but I can’t risk what I’m telling you now getting back to him. Or her.’