Lily Alone

by Vivien Brown

*

  Agnes was wiping the little girl’s arms and legs with a soapy flannel when William let the police in. She hadn’t been sure if she should try to make her sick, in case she’d swallowed any of the headache pills he’d found lying about, but she seemed okay. Scared, tired, hungry, dirty … But not ill. She wasn’t sure whether to take her knickers off either. They were clearly on back to front. Or whether she should undress her completely and pop her into a warm bath. The girl could certainly do with it, but Agnes had seen too many crime shows on the telly. She didn’t know what the child had suffered. Who might have done what to her, before they’d left. The police might need evidence, want to take photos, do DNA tests. She didn’t want to put herself in a vulnerable position, be accused of something unseemly. From what she could gather, it was a risky business these days, touching a child, no matter how well intentioned. But she couldn’t leave her smeared in faeces, or bleeding. It wouldn’t seem right.

  There were two of them. A young male copper who hardly looked old enough to be out of school uniform, and a woman, mid-thirties probably, clearly the senior of the two.

  ‘She was covered in filth. Maybe I shouldn’t have, but I couldn’t just do nothing,’ Agnes said, defensively, but the woman smiled at her and signalled for her to carry on.

  ‘Right. Mrs Munro, isn’t it? Just tell us what happened. You found her by herself, is that right? In a neighbouring property?’

  ‘Well, technically it was my son, William, who actually found her.’

  The officer turned to William, hovering in the doorway of the bathroom. ‘Sir?’

  ‘Well, there was water coming in through the ceiling. In the kitchen. Obviously from the flat above. And my mother’s cat had gone missing.’ At this point, Smudge decided to appear, working his fluffy body in slinky slalom patterns around the policeman’s uniformed legs. ‘Well, we found him, as you can see. But what I’m trying to say is—’

  ‘Oh, for heaven’s sake, William!’ Agnes was losing patience and was only too happy to take over. ‘We went upstairs and knocked. Nobody answered the door, but Smudge, my cat here, came out through their cat flap, and we were sure we could hear someone still inside, behind the door. To cut a long story short, it was this little thing. All by herself. And just look at her. Covered in her own mess, and half starved to death. She guzzled a whole glass of milk no sooner I’d put it in her hand, not to mention the jam sandwich. All children love jam, don’t they? Strawberry —’

  ‘So there was no sign of a parent there with her?’ the female officer interrupted. ‘No responsible adult at all?’

  ‘Nobody. William went in and checked, in case there was anyone unconscious in there, or a body or anything. Which, thank God, there wasn’t. And to turn off the tap and empty the sink, to stop the leak getting worse. The phone was off the hook too. But all that only took a few minutes, and since then, well, we’ve both been here with her and she hasn’t said a word. Nothing. Won’t even tell us her name, will you, darling?’ Agnes dabbed the child’s legs dry with a towel and carried her through to the living room, one arm under her bottom, as she cradled her head with the other. ‘But my son did have a quick look round for anything that could be useful. There was a handbag, but it was all tipped up, like the little girl had been in there, you know, rummaging about the way kids do. And a purse, but nothing much in that. Nothing with names or numbers. And there were these.’ Agnes reached for the packet of pills from the table where she’d put them so she wouldn’t forget. ‘We thought they might be important. You know, just in case she …’

  ‘Right. We’ll have to call Children’s Services.’ The policewoman smiled at Agnes. ‘At the council,’ she explained. ‘Part of the Social Services department. We’ll see what they have to say, and they’ll probably sort out somewhere safe for this little one to go until we can find out who should be with her, and, more importantly, why they’re not.’ She turned to her colleague. ‘Ambulance first, I think. These are only aspirin, and there are one, two … Six missing from the packet altogether. Nothing to say she took them all, or any of them, but I don’t know how bad these might be for a child this age to take. We’d better get it checked out. Just as a precaution. Better safe than sorry. Then we’ll have to go for Powers of Protection. That’ll give us seventy-two hours anyway, a chance for the parents to show their faces before any big decisions have to be made. But let’s make those calls first, okay?’

  The younger one nodded. It was pretty clear this was all new to him, but he had his notebook out already and went out into the hall to make the necessary calls.

  Agnes slumped into her armchair, taking the sleepy child with her. ‘They’ll take her away, will they?’ She watched the girl curl into the folds of her lap. ‘After the hospital check, I mean. Off somewhere to be looked after, by strangers?’

  ‘A foster carer, probably. Only very temporarily, maybe just for tonight, until we can track down her mum and dad, find out what’s happened. That’s our priority now. Do you know them? Know who they are? Anything about them that might help?’

  ‘No. They kept to themselves. As do I, I suppose. We did have a little talk a while ago, the mother and me, but, I’m sorry, this sounds terrible, but I can’t even remember her name. She’s young though, very young. Hardly more than a kid herself. And, as for him, I haven’t seen hide nor hair of him for ages.’

  ‘Never mind. Let’s take a look in the flat then, shall we?’

  ‘don’t you need a search warrant? To break in and hunt about?’ Agnes was remembering all those crime shows again. Drug searches, and stolen goods, and escaped prisoners on the run.

  ‘Not if it’s open, and there’s a risk to a child involved. We’re not going to do any damage, don’t worry. Just try to find out what’s happened here, and look for some ID. Could you lead the way, please, Mr Munro? You did leave the door open for us, didn’t you?’

  Agnes could see William close his eyes and take a big gulp of air. He hadn’t! The damn fool boy had closed it behind him. Now they’d have to force their way in, break the door down. She knew about these things. She’d seen it once, on an episode of Morse.

  *

  Patsy was enjoying being by herself. Much as she loved Michael, staying in his old childhood home, and sharing it with his mother, was becoming a strain. There was a strong breeze coming off the sea, lifting her hair and flapping it back behind her ears, and she was glad she’d decided not to wear a skirt or it would surely have been a battle to keep it where it was supposed to be, somewhere south of her knicker line.

  She’d just strolled past Geraldine’s shop. It was easy enough to spot, with its Bits & Bobs sign in dire need of a lick of paint, and its cluttered window display. The whole place looked dated, in need of a makeover, but it was Geraldine’s business, and not her place to say. There was a young girl working behind the counter. The famously inept Kerry, no doubt. From where she was standing, Patsy thought the girl looked competent enough, ringing up some tacky souvenir on the till, dropping it into a paper bag, handing out change. It wasn’t as if the place was heaving with customers either. Patsy doubted that it ever was.

  Kerry waited until the customer left and then sat down on a stool behind the counter and nibbled at her nails. With her thin straight hair pulled back into an untidy ponytail and her maroon nylon overall looking like something from an old corner grocery shop from the sixties, the poor thing could do with a makeover of her own.

  Patsy walked on. It was best to keep her opinions to herself, keep her nose out of Geraldine’s life. The sea was up ahead, glistening in the sunshine, the aroma of fresh coffee wafted out from an array of cafes, and the prospect of bigger and better shopping brought a smile to Patsy’s face, offering a much more inviting way of spending the day than wondering about Geraldine and her sorry little gift shop.

  She hadn’t spent any time alone for weeks. Months, even. Since she’d persuaded Michael to follow her to the Portugal office, there had seemed little point in him looking for a flat of his
own. They had become a couple quickly. Too quickly, some were no doubt saying, and there was a definite case for keeping work and pleasure apart, as she well knew, having seen others in the office rush too quickly into instant coupledom after some drunken kiss at a party and then come a cropper even quicker, then have to find a way to carry on working together afterwards.

  But Michael moving in with her had seemed the right thing to do. She had no regrets. She loved him, loved being with him, and the line between work and pleasure had, for her, always been a thin one. Her life and all its strands had come together in a way she could never have imagined since she’d met Michael. They lived together, worked together, played together, and their sex life was still new and exciting, still in the exploring stage.

  If it wasn’t for his mother, his ex-lover and his child, then everything would be as near perfect as it could possibly be. But, she told herself, settling down at a pavement table and ordering a frothy cappuccino and a bun, most people come with baggage of one sort or another, don’t they? He was twenty-eight. No man of that age, barring some kind of monk, would have a completely clean slate. Past relationships would be echoing through their lives in one way or another, no matter who she hooked up with, and she wouldn’t swap him. Not in a million years.

  ‘Mind if I sit here?’

  Patsy looked up and was surprised to see it was the girl from the shop, Kerry. She’d taken off the overall and let her hair fall down over her shoulders, so she looked like a different person altogether, like someone suddenly unshackled and relishing her freedom.

  ‘No, feel free.’

  The girl had no idea who she was. Why should she? They’d never met.

  ‘Lovely day,’ Patsy said, feeling mischievous, wondering if in starting up a conversation she might be able to find out a little more about her mother-in-law to be, maybe even dig up a bit of juicy dirt.

  ‘Is it?’ The girl shrugged. Her loose cardigan hung off her shoulders as if it was three sizes too big, and her skin was pale and spotty, although she’d tried to cover it with an inexpertly applied layer of make-up that didn’t suit her.

  ‘Well, weather-wise it’s pretty good, considering the time of year.’ Patsy crossed her legs, slipping out of one of her high heels and letting her foot dangle, relishing the cool air where a blister had started to form. She should have packed some more suitable shoes. ‘But not so lovely for you, by the look of things. Having a bad day?’

  Kerry yawned. ‘Oh, don’t mind me,’ she said, beckoning to a passing waitress and ordering a king-size burger, chips and a Coke. ‘Work’s just getting to me a bit. I’m in a shop, just up the road there, and I’d been due to finish early today, but the boss had to dash off somewhere without any notice at all, and she just expects me to stay on late and hold the fort. I had a date lined up, see, and I’ve had to text and put him off. A new guy I’ve only just met. Here on holiday and going home tomorrow, so that’s that chance blown. So, I’ve closed up and snuck out for an early lunch. Stuff holding the fort, that’s what I say. There were other things I’d been hoping to hold tonight!’ She blushed and let out a little scream of embarrassment. ‘Oh, that must have sounded awful. Hands! I only meant hands!’

  Patsy laughed. ‘Oh, dear. It’s tough when work pushes the old love life aside, isn’t it? But she’s that sort of a boss, is she? A hard taskmaster?’

  ‘Oh, she’s all right really. Just me moaning. I don’t have much in the way of qualifications – well, none to be honest – and she was the only one around here to give me a job and to help me find a place to stay as well. I know I should be more grateful. She’s got a soft spot for people like me, I think. The waifs and strays, she calls us. You know, kids having a bit of trouble at home, chucked out of school, that sort of thing. She’s not a bad old bird once you get past the outside layer. I’ll miss her if the shop closes.’

  ‘Oh, dear,’ Patsy said again. ‘Is that likely?’

  ‘dunno. I know she’s been looking at the books a fair bit lately, and we’re lucky to get more than a couple of hundred quid through the till most days, so it’s on the cards, I reckon.’

  They sat in silence after that, until Kerry’s food arrived and she proceeded to smother it in ketchup until it looked like some kind of bloodbath from a horror film.

  So, Geraldine was hiding a heart of gold, was she? Well, Patsy had yet to see it. It could explain why she still seemed so attached to Ruby, so loyal to her, despite the fact that Michael had decided to leave her behind. Perhaps Ruby had been one of Geraldine’s waifs and strays? Someone she took pity on and tried to help. Michael had told her that Ruby had come to live with them but had never fully explained why. It would certainly fit.

  Patsy glanced over at the crusty ridge of ketchup congealing around the edges of Kerry’s plate and trying to do much the same around the edges of her mouth. She nodded a brief goodbye and went inside to pay her bill.

  *

  Gina picked another tiny fragment of broken china out from the rubber sole of her shoe with her fingernail and plonked the shoe back on her foot. That was the last one, as far as she could tell, but her nail was chipped now and catching on the threads in her tights, and her last emery board was so old and flat it was about as much use as rubbing her nail along a sucked lolly stick.

  It had been one of those mornings. A bit of a niggly headache from too much wine and nowhere near enough sleep the night before, the accident with the bowl in the kitchen and nowhere near enough time to stop and clear it up properly, and now this.

  She had seen plenty of sick children in A & E before, many of them dripping with blood or screaming in pain, but this was something else. The first time she’d come across anything quite like it. An abandonment case. A child who looked no more than two or three, not only found alone, but who’d been that way for some time, apparently. Nobody knew just how long, but from the state of her when she’d been found, they’d said it must have been days rather than hours. Now she was quiet, half asleep but still clinging tightly to the old lady in the funny clothes who’d come in with her, trailing an ambulance crew and a couple of police officers, one male, one female. They always seemed to bring a policewoman in when there was a child involved.

  Nobody seemed to know the child’s name or her date of birth, or where her parents were. Everyone was trying to help, but she could see they were mostly just getting in the way, crowding the tiny cubicle as the ambulance crew completed their handover, a student nurse dug out a teddy to make the little one feel more at ease, and the doctor did her best to calm things down and just do her job. An open pill packet was produced and the doctor peered at it. Gina heard her count. Six missing from the foil. Aspirin. Not good, but nothing too terrible, so long as the poor kid hadn’t taken more than one or two. They’d do tests, take bloods, to make sure, if they had to, but the most likely option, from looking at her, was that she hadn’t taken any at all. You couldn’t be too careful when it came to drugs. Drugs and children didn’t make for a good mix at all, but nobody would want to put this little one through any more trauma if it wasn’t absolutely essential. The doctor would probably take a ‘wait and watch’ approach for now.

  They all seemed to be talking at once over there, enough to disturb the patients in the other cubicles. It was bad enough at the best of times, with nothing but a collection of animal print curtains and plastic chairs separating them, and their young occupants in pain or scared already. Or in many cases, both. The little girl who was the centre of everyone’s attention wasn’t in pain but she was undoubtedly scared. She looked bewildered, her thumb stuck deep in her mouth, her eyelids beginning to droop, with no interest in the second-hand teddy at all, but still she clung on to the old lady with a vice-like grip that said she’d never let her go.

  ‘No name for her yet, I’m afraid.’ Gina pulled her attention back, startled by the sudden appearance of the policeman now leaning on the desk, just as she was wiggling her foot around to try out the comfort of the shoe and about to go over and d
o something about the noise. ‘We have an address, obviously, and your reception staff are checking that on the computer. We have officers in the flat now too, checking things over, so it won’t take long to get some kind of formal ID.’

  He was young, not much more than Gina’s own age, and looked almost as white and terrified as the child. In fact, he looked pretty much as he probably felt, like a spare part, out of his depth, talking too much, trying to find something useful to say that she didn’t already know.

  ‘Is she hurt, do you think?’ He was clearly upset. Like one of those new young coppers who’d just seen their first dead body. She’d come across one or two of those over the years, and held the bowl as they’d spewed up the contents of their stomachs. ‘Has anyone …’ He went on, almost in a whisper. ‘Well, you know, has anything bad happened to her? Apart from just being on her own, I mean, and the pills?’

  ‘Abuse, you mean? Sexual? No, there’s no indication of that. Not that is obvious, anyway. She’s hungry and a bit dehydrated, and she has quite a few superficial scratches and cuts. She’s very quiet, but her pulse and BP were fine in the ambulance. Someone will try to talk to her soon, about what happened to her, I’m sure, when Social Services get here. Yes, she’s drowsy, so she may have swallowed some of the pills, but there are no real signs. She doesn’t seem to have a tummy ache and she’s not been sick. Besides, they won’t have tasted very nice, so I think probably not. It could simply be that she’s tired, and who can blame her?’

  She looked across again, saw yet another woman approaching the bed, and gave out a deep sigh. ‘Oh, for God’s sake, the poor child must be overwhelmed by all this. All these people, and now Social Services have turned up, right on cue! Your uniforms and radios probably aren’t helping either. Can’t you shut them up while you’re in here? It’s all just going to scare her, and every other child in here, for that matter. Why can’t they all just back off and let us deal with this for now? She’s perfectly safe here. She’s not a criminal, about to run off. It’s not as if we’ve got a suspect here to interrogate, is it?’