Not My Daughter

by Suzy K Quinn

‘Back in a minute,’ Michael told the women. ‘Top up your champagne glasses, ladies. I don’t want to see them run dry.’

  We went to the kitchen and Michael said, ‘This better be an emergency or you’re out of here. I mean it.’

  ‘Annalise says she’s pregnant and you’re the father.’

  ‘What?’ Michael blinked at me. ‘She said what?’

  ‘She says you’re the father of her child. It’s not true, is it?’

  ‘Of course it’s not true.’ Michael glanced back at the kitchen door.

  ‘She looks pregnant.’

  ‘What are you girls doing talking to each other anyway?’

  ‘Is she pregnant, Michael?’

  Michael hesitated. ‘Listen, she might be.’ He put a hand on my shoulder. ‘But I’m not the father. That’s total nonsense. No way. This is worse than the tabloids. She’s just trying to upset you, love. Make you jealous. She’s young. You’re the grown-up here, okay? I’ll talk to her.’ He gave me a quick disconnected kiss. ‘All right? Go back to your room.’

  ‘She has to leave, Michael,’ I said. ‘I mean it.’

  Fury settled into Michael’s forehead and cheeks. ‘Of course she bloody well has to leave. That girl is in a whole world of trouble, Lorna. She’s going to be begging for her mad mammy by the time I’m finished with her.’

  I felt uneasy then, noticing Michael’s balled fists and hunched shoulders. Michael had lost his temper with me many times, but I didn’t like the idea of him hurting someone else, especially someone so young. I imagined Annalise falling to the floor, protecting her pregnant stomach.

  She’s a liar, a voice said. She’s not even pregnant. She’s a liar and she tried to hurt you. She deserves everything she gets.

  I looked away from Michael. ‘Just a telling-off, right? You won’t hurt her.’

  ‘I’ll handle it how it needs to be handled. She’ll be out of this house today. And stop eating those crisps. You’ll end up with a fat arse.’

  He patted my bottom and sent me upstairs, where I ate more junk food to ease my guilt.

  Later that day, Annalise’s bedroom was empty. There was no mess of hippy and babydoll dresses over the bedroom floor. A decorator guy was stripping rose wallpaper from the walls and the linen had been torn from the bed, revealing a bare, unloving mattress.

  ‘She’s gone back to her mother,’ Michael told me when I found him downstairs eating breakfast. ‘I gave her a talking-to and we both decided she needed to leave the house.’ He threw his knife and fork noisily at his half-eaten fried breakfast plate and stood up.

  ‘Where are you going?’ I asked.

  ‘To the cottage. The renovations are really coming along out there, but I have to oversee every detail. Honestly, you turn your back for a moment on those guys and they do everything back to front.’

  Michael stayed in the cottage all day. When he came back that night, he didn’t come to my bedroom. He didn’t come the next night either.

  I knew I was in a lukewarm bath that was getting colder by the day. But it was freezing outside and I didn’t have the courage to get out.

  Liberty

  Skywalker is lying deathly still on the bed, his chest making the tiniest movements.

  ‘Good boy, Sky,’ I say, wiping at tears. ‘You’re such a good boy. Just … stay cool, okay? Stay cool.’

  I can’t stop crying. I’m pretty sure this is trauma. Seeing Michael transform like that, from like this good guy to a dead-eyed monster … it’s totally freaked me out.

  Crazy how can someone can seem so charming, but have all that rage going on just below the surface. Malevolent intentions can be so well hidden.

  I’ve explored every corner of the turret room, checking every angle.

  At first, I pulled and hammered on the door, shouting my head off. But it was stupid. I knew it was stupid. Who would come? Michael?

  After the futile door hammering, I threw a chair at the door, but all I succeeded in doing was smashing a probable antique into pieces and hurting myself in the process.

  I put a cheek to Skywalker’s soft fur. ‘Now I know why Mum is so scared, huh? Why she runs from him. Crazy is scary.’

  I go to the window, pressing my nose right against the glass.

  It’s a good view – I can see right over the woodlands, all the way to the gate. The sun is setting and although I can’t feel the temperature drop in here, I shiver.

  Michael strides out of the trees on his short little legs, carrying two rifles in his arms with a box of ammunition balanced on top. He’s dressed all in black: jeans, shoes, T-shirt and sunglasses.

  My heart is beating so hard. So he’s been to his gun shed. I expected that. Arming himself before my mother arrives. I’m shaking so hard that my vision is blurry.

  This is what you wanted, Liberty. A change. Liberation. Right? Be careful what you wish for.

  Michael has crossed the moat now and is heading into the house.

  I scuttle back to Skywalker, crouching back beside him as I hear Michael climbing the stairs.

  ‘Hello, Liberty, love.’ Michael’s chubby body appears in the arched doorway. I expect him to still be holding the rifles and ammo, but instead he carries a tray.

  ‘Where did the guns go?’ I ask.

  ‘What guns?’ Michael’s outline reminds me of a frog stretched out – large belly over skinny legs. A frog carrying a tray of sandwiches and bottled water. He surveys the room, eyes darkening when he sees the smashed-up chair. ‘You’ve made a real mess up here, haven’t you? A real mess.’

  Michael puts the tray down on the bed and the bottled water leans precariously. ‘Lorna hasn’t come yet. I thought she’d be here by now. How are you, anyway? You must be getting hungry. I brought you a little supper.’

  ‘My dog needs a vet.’

  ‘Oh, your poor little pup.’ Michael shakes his head. ‘He’s still not himself, is he?’ He crouches beside Skywalker, putting a hand to his chest. ‘He’s in a bad way, if he’s still not moving.’

  I shrink back. ‘You did it,’ I say. ‘You poisoned him. At breakfast, or … when we were in the music studio.’

  ‘You really are sounding crazy, love, saying things like that,’ says Michael.

  ‘You were carrying guns. I saw you.’

  ‘Now you’re sounding really crazy.’

  ‘Just let me out.’

  ‘Listen, Lorna will be here soon. You’ll stay here until then, won’t you?’

  ‘I need to get my dog to a vet.’

  ‘God, Liberty, I mean, all the vets’ offices will be closed by now, won’t they? And is he really all that bad?’

  ‘Of course he’s that bad. He’s barely moving. There are out-of-hours services. For emergencies.’

  ‘Well, listen, I can’t take you anywhere now, not with Lorna on her way. I hope she hurries along. When she gets here, we might be able to do something for your doggy. Okay, love?’

  ‘We need to go now.’

  ‘We can’t, love. Sorry.’

  ‘Is this what you did to Annalise and that other girl? Lock them in?’

  ‘What other girl?’

  ‘The German girl. The one who went missing after your show.’

  Michael’s head flicks towards me. ‘You’ve been reading too many newspapers. They’re full of lies. Don’t believe a word of them. A girl went missing. What’s that got to do with me?’

  ‘Two girls going missing? Don’t you think that’s a big coincidence, considering you’re clearly a psychopath? What – did they both starve to death up here?’ I start to cry.

  Michael pushes his sunglasses into his shaggy white-blond hair. I see cold, hard, dark eyes within a puffy, tanned face.

  ‘Liberty. I’ve just brought you a meal. You’re hardly likely to starve to death. This is all sounding very dramatic. And no one’s locking you in. The door handle gets stiff, that’s all.’

  ‘Skywalker could die.’ I start crying. ‘He’s just an innocent animal. What did you give him?�
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  ‘How do you know he’s been poisoned, love?’

  ‘It’s happened before. He ate chocolate. He had to have his stomach pumped. He nearly didn’t make it.’

  ‘Maybe he ate something out in the woods,’ says Michael. ‘Animals can be dumb, can’t they?’

  I stand, and Michael places himself between me and the door.

  ‘Remember your doggy now,’ he says. ‘You can’t leave without him, can you?’ Michael scratches at his black and white stubble. ‘And even if you did, I don’t think you’d get too far. I’d have to come after you. I’ve got a few all-terrain bikes out there; I’d catch you in no time.’

  ‘Why are you trying to hurt me like this?’

  ‘I’m not trying to hurt you, Liberty. I think you’re being a little full of yourself. It’s Lorna who’s going to get hurt.’

  ‘Why?’

  Michael’s shoulders hunch forward and his voice drops two octaves. ‘I told you. Lorna was my little pet, just like that doggy is yours. And for her to leave … it was the worst betrayal. She can’t get away with it. Not while I’m still breathing.’

  ‘Please,’ I say. ‘My dog is sick. He could die.’

  ‘Just stay where you are. Stay right there and wait for Lorna. When she comes, do everything you’re told. And you might just come out of this okay. You don’t want to end up disappearing like your real mother. Right?’

  More tears come. ‘What did you do to her?’

  ‘They never found your mother’s body,’ says Michael. ‘Did they? You know that part. So for all the world knows, she could still be alive. Nothing to suggest otherwise. But you know, I’ve got acres of woodlands out there. Acres. If I ever wanted to hide a body, that’s what I’d do. I’d hide it out there. Chop her up first and scatter the limbs around. I don’t think I’d ever get caught if I did that. Sit yourself down, Liberty, there’s a girl.’

  I sit.

  ‘Let’s wait for Lorna to arrive,’ says Michael, closing and locking the turret room door. ‘This is the best view in the house.’

  Once upon a time …

  I woke to Cat Cannon’s loud voice, raised to screeching pitch.

  ‘WHERE IS SHE, MICHAEL? WHERE IS ANNALISE?’

  Whoa. I felt early-morning sun on my eyelids, bright and warm, and a downy duvet over my bony body.

  I sat on the edge of my single bed, trying to get a handle on what was going on.

  ‘She did stay here.’ Cat’s voice shattered into heartbreaking howls. ‘What are you doing with these girls, Michael? What are you doing with them?’

  I tiptoed down the stairs, my Michael Reyji Ray T-shirt hanging over bony legs.

  Cat was in the hallway, hands on hips, lips bleeding red lipstick, eyes bloodshot. She looked unusually svelte in a Vivienne Westwood spikey shoulder suit, pale skin glimmering under Michael’s chandelier.

  Michael’s face was inches from Cat’s, furious. He wore striped pyjama bottoms and a shabby grey T-shirt, white-blond hair sticking up around his head.

  Cat was equally furious, glaring back at him.

  Seeing me on the stairs, Michael said: ‘Go back to bed, Lorna.’

  Cat turned to me then, eyes huge and desperate. ‘Lorna. Is Annalise here?’

  ‘She was,’ I said. ‘But she left. Michael asked her to leave.’

  Cat spun back to Michael. ‘You fucking liar. You LIAR. I knew it.’

  ‘You’re going to believe Lorna?’ said Michael, giving an outraged laugh. ‘Come on, Cat. She barely knows what day of the week it is. You have to listen to me – Annalise was never here.’ His voice had turned smooth then. If there was one thing he could never do, it was to out-temper-tantrum Cat. They were equally matched when it came to aggression.

  ‘But … she stayed in the room next to you,’ I said, feeling even more insane than I usually did.

  Michael turned to me and barked: ‘Go back to bed, Lorna! Sleep it off.’

  ‘I knew she was here,’ Cat raged. ‘I knew it. You’re a fucking liar, Michael.’

  ‘I. Don’t. Lie,’ said Michael, voice low, shaking his head in disgust. ‘Listen – okay, Annalise came to my door a while back, bags on her shoulders. But it was months ago. She’s not here now, end of.’

  ‘Why didn’t you tell me she came by?’ Cat demanded.

  ‘You two are always arguing,’ said Michael. ‘Some drama going on. How was I supposed to know she didn’t go back to you? What was there to tell? She came here. She said she was going home. She left.’

  I tensed then, knowing Michael was twisting the truth. Annalise had come here. But she hadn’t left straight away. I thought about Annalise’s rounded stomach under that cottony dress.

  ‘If you slept with her—’ Cat began.

  ‘Don’t you start throwing accusations around,’ said Michael, pointing an angry finger. ‘What kind of parent are you anyway? Three days out of rehab and you think you’re Mother Superior? Like you haven’t neglected that girl her whole life?’

  ‘I haven’t been the best mother. I know I haven’t. You think I don’t feel guilty? It doesn’t make me love my daughter any less.’ Cat’s red fingernails clenched into fists. ‘WHERE IS SHE, MICHAEL?’

  ‘You should know the answer to that,’ said Michael. ‘You’re her mother. Don’t put your bullshit on us. You’re the one who’s taking care of her.’

  ‘Lorna, when was she here?’ Cat demanded.

  ‘Um …’ I was a dumb, frozen rabbit in headlights. I hate myself for that now. Absolutely hate myself.

  Michael’s voice turns quieter. ‘Earlier in the year some time.’ He turned to me. ‘A long time ago. Wasn’t it, Lorna?’

  My stomach churned. When Michael’s voice went quiet like that, I knew I was in trouble. And he wasn’t lying – Annalise had left earlier in the year.

  I felt myself nod.

  ‘Listen.’ Michael put an arm around Cat’s shoulder. ‘She’ll turn up. You know she will. She’ll be staying with a friend somewhere. Do you want to call the police?’

  Cat’s eyes faltered. ‘Do you think it’s come to that? She always turns up in the end. You know what the police will do. Call Social Services.’

  ‘She’ll surface soon,’ says Michael. ‘She always does, doesn’t she? Like you always say, she’s fifteen going on forty. A real little grown-up.’

  ‘But it’s been so long now. Months and months.’ Cat looked Michael right in the eye then. ‘Tell me the truth, Michael. Do you know anything, anything you’re not telling me?’

  Michael’s jaw set hard. ‘Now pull yourself together. And stop throwing accusations around.’

  Cat started crying, tears pouring down her face, red mouth opening and closing.

  I couldn’t bear it, and for once my decency overcame Michael’s control.

  ‘Cat, why don’t you try the hospitals?’ I said.

  ‘Hospital?’ Red nails shot to Cat’s mouth. ‘You think something happened to my baby?’

  ‘She said she was pregnant.’ I glanced at Michael. ‘So maybe she visited a hospital. For a check-up or something.’

  ‘She was pregnant?’ Cat glares at Michael.

  Michael gave me an angry smile, and I knew I was in trouble. ‘Annalise wasn’t pregnant, love,’ he said. ‘She just made all that up. A big story to get attention. They were jumpers stuffed around her middle. Didn’t you notice?’ Michael scratched his nose. ‘Cat, she came here and left. That’s the whole story. At the end of the day, Cat, I’m not her parent. You’ve let your daughter live away from home for all these months.’

  ‘She said she was staying with a guy from the tour. I was in rehab. I thought she was okay …’

  ‘Cat, you’re wasting your time here,’ said Michael. ‘I’ve got work to do. Show yourself out.’

  Michael headed past me, up the stairs.

  Cat loitered in the hallway for a few desperate minutes. Then she said in her gravelly opiate voice, ‘Is he telling the truth, Lorna?’

  I shuffled on the stai
rs. ‘Annalise did leave, Cat. A long time ago. She … she told me she was pregnant. But I guess she wasn’t.’

  Cat shook her head in disgust. ‘One thing I can’t stand. A woman who lets a man think for her.’

  ‘I don’t do that,’ I said.

  ‘Yeah, you do.’ Cat left then. I watched her American 1968 Ford Mustang drive over gravel onto the winding woodland path and away.

  Later I was in the gym room, red-faced, trying to run away from the morning.

  Michael came striding in and I tensed, mid-run.

  I expected him to punch me, then drag me up to the turret room and leave me without food for the next few days.

  If I was lucky.

  I braced myself. Self-defence was useless. It only made him angrier.

  ‘Turn that thing off for a minute,’ said Michael, pressing the treadmill emergency stop. ‘I’ve got something for you.’ He gave me a stubbly kiss on the cheek and held out a sheaf of magazines.

  I flinched at the kiss, still wary. ‘What are these?’ I asked, head rushing, seeing glossy models in white dresses.

  ‘Wedding magazines. Time to plan our future, right? I’ve decided to divorce Diane. It’s been long enough. Keeping the poor girl hanging on isn’t doing either of us any good.’

  ‘You’re kidding me.’

  ‘I’d hoped for a smile at least,’ said Michael, squeezing my hand. ‘It’s what you wanted, isn’t it? You and me, happily ever after.’

  He was right, I should have been smiling. If this were a normal relationship, I would have been.

  I said the truest thing I could, without aggravating Michael’s temper: ‘It’s weird timing. I thought you’d be mad at me. About Cat.’

  ‘Forget about Cat,’ said Michael. ‘She’s a drug addict who should take better care of her daughter.’

  ‘And Annalise?’

  ‘Like mother, like daughter. She’ll be living with junkies somewhere and she’ll find her mother again in time.’

  He gave me a hug, but it felt hollow.

  ‘So now you’ll have something to focus your mind on,’ said Michael, giving me the magazines. ‘Right? Not Cat coming here and shouting about her daughter.’

  My eyes couldn’t quite meet his.