Chosen Child

by Linda Huber

  He seized the child and tickled her, amazed he was managing to do such a daddy-like thing, feeling like this. Soraya shrieked, twisted from his grasp and ran inside, giggling.

  Rick wandered round to the back garden. The shed sneered at him and he glowered at it. He’d been terrified there would be a smell, even after Gareth was safely underground. And even more terrified Ella would notice what he was doing. It hadn’t been easy, lifting half the floor, digging a deep enough hole – he was sure the body was in what would be described by the media as ‘a shallow grave’. As for manhandling Gareth, stiff and reeking of something other than a man in a plastic bin bag – it had been desperate. He’d scattered a load of lime around the body – it was supposed to get rid of animal smells as well as do whatever it did to the soil. It had worked, and now that he’d chucked out the bone meal, bought especially to create a stink of a different kind, the shed was back to its normal smell-free state. Which didn’t stop him having nightmares about it nearly every night.

  He stuck his head in to check, then saw a man in the garden next door was trying to attract his attention. Ah – the new neighbour. He’d moved in on Monday with an older woman who Rick assumed was his mother, but beyond a wave and, ‘Good morning’, they hadn’t spoken. Rick strode over to the fence separating the two plots of land.

  ‘Hi, I’m Owen Fife. Pleased to meet you.’

  Rick shook hands. Owen was somewhere between thirty-five and forty, with a shock of dark hair that was greying at the temples. His handshake was firm.

  Rick glanced towards the other house. ‘Has your mother settled in?’

  ‘In a way. She has her own place in Penzance, but she’s staying with me for a few weeks while she’s recovering from a broken leg.’

  The expression on the other man’s face was wry, and Rick grinned. ‘Ah well, at least it’s a bungalow. Will she be able to live alone again?’

  ‘She will if she has anything to do with it. She’s away at one of those health spas this week. Lots of physiotherapy. And free time for me.’

  Rick hesitated. He really should ask the guy over for a drink, but he wasn’t feeling sociable today. Mind you, having Owen there to talk to might be a good distraction. All this pretending to Ella was another item on his list of worst things.

  ‘Come and have a drink, meet my wife,’ he suggested. ‘You’re very welcome to stay for a meal too, but I should warn you it’s spag bol from a jar. My – daughter’s choice.’

  It was the first time he’d called Soraya his daughter, and the words stuck in his throat as thoughts of another child crashed into his head, a child who wasn’t born yet but who was almost certainly his and whose mother he had cold-bloodedly deserted. Was Amanda coping?

  Owen’s face brightened. ‘I’d love to, if you’re sure your wife won’t mind?’

  ‘Oh, Ella loves having people round. She’ll be interested to hear about your mother, too.’

  Ella was interested, and Rick left her opening a bottle of Merlot and chatting to Owen in the kitchen. He ran upstairs two at a time for his shower; oh how good the hot water felt, raining on his shoulders and running down his back. He’d never been so tense. There was no getting away from the fear and the guilt – he was constantly checking his back to ensure that Amanda wasn’t creeping up on him, as she often did in his dreams.

  When he went downstairs Soraya was laying the table in the kitchen and Owen was looking very much at home grating parmesan. Ella handed him a glass of wine, and Rick forced a smile on his face. This was the woman he loved; all he wanted in the world was to put the clock back four months and just not go to the stupid event where he’d met Amanda.

  But… Amanda was carrying his child. His child. Another thought came and he jumped, sloshing wine on the kitchen floor.

  The baby might be a boy. Not an anonymous ‘baby’. A son.

  The idea was earth-shattering. He’d always wanted a son, and now… Jeez, what had he done? He’d been so busy worrying about Gareth and Ella that he’d lost sight of what was important here. His baby.

  ‘Butterfingers,’ said Ella, handing him a wad of kitchen paper to wipe up the wine. ‘Owen says he’s getting a ramp made up to his mother’s front door in Penzance, and I was recommending those plasterers we had when we did up the bathroom.’

  ‘Yes, they were excellent,’ said Rick, stammering as something else struck him. His poor brain was having a workout this afternoon and no mistake. But this was a good idea – he could lay a base of concrete under the shed. That would stop any future smells, and more importantly it would prevent the body being found easily. The earth might settle or shift, but a layer of concrete would hold everything together. He felt his smile stretch as he raised his glass to Ella and Owen.

  ‘To good neighbours!’

  And to sorting his own mess out as soon as possible, he added silently. He had to make a choice – Ella and Soraya – who wasn’t his child – or Amanda and the baby who was his.

  Owen and Ella were looking at him and he realised he was frowning.

  ‘The wine’s okay, isn’t it?’ said Ella. ‘I’ll put the spag on.’

  She stepped over to the cooker, closely followed by Soraya, and Rick turned to Owen, searching for something to say.

  ‘Great you were able to take time off work for the removal. What do you do, anyway?’

  The other man swirled the ruby liquid in his glass. ‘I’m a police officer.’

  Chapter Two

  Wednesday 11th – Friday 13th June

  Amanda wandered round the second flat of the afternoon. As soon as she’d seen the area she knew it wouldn’t be any good, but the letting agent was already singing the flat’s praises. They still had another two to view after this one and if neither of those suited her – well, she didn’t know what she would do.

  This coming Friday would mark four weeks since Gareth and James had fought so disastrously. She’d been a widow for almost a month, but only she – and James – knew this. As far as everyone else was concerned Gareth was missing, presumed drowned. With the pullover considered likely to be his and no positive sightings elsewhere, the police appeared to have given up the idea that he’d run away voluntarily, but of course there was no proof that he was dead, and without legal proof her life would be difficult for some time to come. Four weeks ago she’d been a stupid bored housewife having an affair… and if she’d known then what she knew now she’d have behaved very differently. Amanda closed her eyes for a second and the usual thought tortured its way through her head. Your fault, all your fault…

  ‘…and you don’t often see a place with this much cupboard space, do you?’ The agent talked himself to a standstill and simpered expectantly.

  Amanda ran her hand over the gleaming kitchen units and sighed. It was a lovely flat, and it was in her price range, but…

  ‘It’s great, but I need a place nearer public transport links,’ she said.

  The agent’s shoulders sagged. Obviously, she hadn’t been supposed to notice the lack of bus stops in the vicinity.

  ‘Okay. But keep it in mind, huh? You have a car, don’t you?’

  ‘I’m planning to give it up. I’ll be working from home for the foreseeable future, so I need a place within walking distance of a supermarket and close to a bus stop.’ All of which she’d told him already.

  The agent brightened. ‘Well, the next place ticks both those boxes. Let’s go.’

  Amanda followed him down to his car, listening as he began yet another song of praise. They’d have to hurry if she was to pick Jaden up at five. She’d left him with her friend Eva to give herself the luxury of an afternoon’s flat-viewing without a rampaging toddler in tow.

  A smaller place to live was the first part of her strategy. The three-bed semi she and Gareth had been so pleased to find was much too big for her and two little ones. They didn’t need a dining room, and the large garden was an inconvenience now.

  But in spite of the problems, things were improving; she was taking c
ontrol of her life. Thanks to benefits and her parents, her finances were okay for the time being, but in a macabre way this only added to her guilt. She and James and their behaviour had killed Gareth, and she would have to live with that for the rest of her life. What would she tell Jaden when he was old enough to ask?

  The next flat was up the hill, in a block with five others, with a lovely view over the ocean. Further up the road Amanda saw larger houses with gardens, and there were two small supermarkets within walking distance too. The location was ideal, and Amanda crossed her fingers as she followed the agent inside.

  The rooms were small, but large enough, and the kitchen was separate, which she liked. The downside was she would need to carry everything up and down two flights of stairs, but that would keep her fit without a gym membership.

  ‘A serious contender,’ she told the agent, looking pointedly at her watch. ‘Let’s have a quick look at the last one and unless it’s better, I’ll take this one.’

  He glanced at his own watch and hurried towards the stairs, Amanda following on, grinning in spite of herself. Things went faster when you were nearly at knocking-off time.

  They were standing beside the car, the agent fumbling for the key, when a little group of schoolchildren approached, accompanied by a couple of mothers. Amanda watched idly as they passed. That could be her in a few years. The tail end of the group went past and Amanda stared at a dark-haired girl holding the hand of the tall blonde woman who was pulling her along. All at once it was difficult to breathe.

  This was the woman and child James had been with in the swing park. The shock had imprinted their faces on Amanda’s memory. The pair were walking towards the larger houses, the woman talking and laughing and the little girl giggling up at her. James’ wife and daughter.

  Amanda gripped her bag to stop her hands trembling, and made an instant decision. ‘Wait – I’ll take this one.’

  The agent didn’t need to be told twice. ‘Excellent choice. Shall we go back in and I’ll run over the contract with you? As you saw it’s available straightaway...’

  That night Amanda bathed Jaden, letting him play for longer than usual. The new flat was a real weight off her mind, for more reasons than one.

  ‘We’re going to a lovely new place, sweetie,’ she told him. ‘Nice and near the beach. And near James too, I hope.’ She muttered the last part, but Jaden heard.

  ‘Jay-jayjay.’ It was what he called himself too, and Amanda kissed him. If only it was Da-dada she had found. Two tears dripped from her chin into the bathwater.

  She put Jaden into his pyjamas and took him downstairs to play for a while before bedtime. He sat on her lap with one of those games where you hit a button according to the animal on the screen; Jaden couldn’t do it properly but he loved the rude noise it made when he hit a wrong combination so it didn’t matter. Amanda cuddled him – poor baby, he wouldn’t remember this house any more than he’d remember his daddy. She could only hope his two remaining grandmothers and his grandad would stick around long enough to make memories for him. Susie was due to visit this weekend, so she’d better have a bit of a tidy. And maybe she’d have found James by that time.

  Amanda sat planning, stroking her tummy where the bump would be. What would she do, when she found him? Ask for money? That would be undignified, and it wasn’t money she wanted as much as… help. A father for her babies. It might be best to play the whole thing fairly quietly until she could get a paternity test done. It would almost certainly be positive, and that would be the time to push James, the man who’d been happy to lie in Gareth’s bed and then disposed of his body. Heck. Did she really want a man like that in her life? But what choice did she have? She had two children to support.

  And the body, that was the important thing. She’d have no peace of mind until she knew where Gareth was. She would make James tell her.

  But first she had to find him.

  At ten to four the following day Amanda was stationed outside her flat-to-be, Jaden in his buggy, waiting for the schoolchildren on their homeward journey. She felt alive as seldom before. The chances were excellent that one day, if not today, she would see the same woman and little girl. And then she’d have found James. How dare he dump her like that?

  The children were just round the corner; she could hear them. A chattering group passed by, older children who walked themselves home from school. Amanda stared down the street. Another older group was approaching but there were no younger ones in sight today. She waited another quarter of an hour, then started the long walk home, disappointment making her more determined. The younger ones must have finished school at a different time today. Ah well, there was always tomorrow.

  Friday was rainy and cool, and Amanda huddled under an umbrella, thinking savagely that this time four weeks ago, she’d been stuffing duvets into black bags in preparation for James taking Gareth away. And this was Friday the thirteenth, an omen if ever there was one. She was so deep in thought she didn’t notice the children until they were passing right by. Kids of all sizes today… and a few mothers… and yes. Yes. They were here, James’ wife and daughter. Both were clutching umbrellas so Amanda had little more than a glimpse of them, but it was enough. She waited till the group had passed then followed on, pushing the buggy with a sleepy Jaden. Up the hill went the pair she was following… round a corner… across the road… and through a garden gate.

  Amanda walked past on the other side of the road. It was a nice house, detached with a big garden, posher than hers, and it would be their own place and not rented. At the next junction she crossed over and walked back, passing James’ house once more. Yes, very nice. Lucky James.

  It was time for some serious planning.

  Chapter Three

  Saturday 14th – Sunday 15th June

  ‘Can we go to the beach today?’

  Soraya peeked at her across the breakfast table, and Ella’s heart contracted. It was lovely having her child here. This was Soraya’s second week with them and it was so far, so very good. Of course they were still in a honeymoon phase where they were all on their best behaviour and everything was rose-tinted and special – but what the heck, she had waited years to have a child to love and she was going to enjoy every minute. And best of all, Soraya was beginning to realise she was loved – the little girl skipped around the house, often with a happy smile that won Ella’s heart every time. It was like watching a butterfly emerging from the drabness of its chrysalis, fluttering its wings, preparing to fly into sunlight. Oh, life wasn’t all pink and fluffy; their new daughter had a mind of her own and wasn’t afraid to speak it – but it was an excellent beginning.

  ‘How about a picnic lunch on Porthmeor Beach,’ Ella suggested. ‘You haven’t been there yet and it’s a good beach for children. We might see some surfers, too, if the tide’s right.’

  ‘Yay!’ Soraya descended into her cereal.

  Rick came in with his Saturday luxury, a real newspaper, and settled down at the other end of the table with a cup of coffee.

  ‘Are we furniture-shopping today?’ he asked, turning to the sports section.

  ‘Tomorrow,’ said Ella. ‘Burnside Centre’s having a summer sale; I thought we could try there. Picnic on the beach today.’

  Rick winked at Soraya. ‘Got your bucket and spade ready? Bet we can make the best sandcastle ever.’

  Soraya immediately abandoned her breakfast and ran upstairs.

  ‘Oops,’ said Rick.

  ‘Right remark, wrong time,’ said Ella ruefully.

  They had learned that to think was to act with Soraya. She rarely sat still for longer than it took to finish her food; even watching television she would jump up and down, checking that Ella was still in the kitchen, or dancing around in front of the set.

  ‘She’ll calm down,’ Liz told them. ‘She needs continuity and she needs to learn to trust you, and that takes time.’

  Ella topped up both their mugs. They all needed time. Rick still had spells of staring into
space with a vacant expression on his face, which come to think of it was permanently pale these days, but he was much better with Soraya than she’d expected. Maybe the grumpiness had been down to his job, and not the adoption. She still didn’t know what was going on in Rick’s office. He assured her the Indian contract was safe now, and as far as she could tell he went to work every day… but it was difficult to judge, and she didn’t want to ask too many leading questions.

  Ella’s gut twisted in fear. What had he been doing, those days he hadn’t gone to work? Another thing she didn’t know was how long it had gone on for – a couple of weeks might mean he’d simply needed time to digest the fact that he’d soon be a father. It couldn’t have been longer – could it? The only way to find out was to ask him, but that might disturb the balance of their new family life. In a few weeks the adoption would be finalised – she could start sorting out her marriage then.

  And at least he’d given up visiting the shed ten times a day. The tomato plants were here in the kitchen and the veggies were in the garden. Things were improving, thought Ella, grinning as Soraya thundered downstairs. She rose to her feet to pack the beach bag.

  ‘Are we going in the car?’ said Soraya, leading the way out the front door.

  ‘It’ll be murder – um, much too busy in the car park today,’ said Ella. ‘It’s not far to walk, and if we’re tired afterwards we can get the bus back.’

  Rick was locking the front door, his mouth a tight slash. What was wrong now? Ella gave his arm a shake. ‘Come on, Mister Grumpy. When was the last time we had a day on the beach?’

  ‘A decade or so ago?’ His voice was quieter than usual.

  ‘At least,’ said Ella. So maybe this wasn’t what Rick would have chosen for his Saturday – hopefully he wasn’t going to be boring about family outings. She was still searching around for something encouraging to say when Soraya squeezed between them, taking a hand of each. Ella pushed the awkward feeling away.