by Rona Halsall
Ten days ago, it had been time to revisit the ‘let’s have a baby’ conversation, because she was at the peak of her cycle and the whole getting pregnant thing was taking far too long. Now she was almost forty, she was starting to worry that it would never happen. And that was an idea that she couldn’t bear to think about, not when she’d already told all her mummy friends that they were trying and they kept asking her if she had any news yet. It had been going on so long it was getting to the point where it was embarrassing and their words of encouragement were tinged with pity.
She’d cooked his favourite meal for tea; a rich beef lasagne, with a nice rioja and tiramisu for dessert. She’d packed the kids off again and it was a little while until he worked out they weren’t there.
‘Oh, Annabelle invited them for a sleepover.’ She beamed at him, buoyed up on the thoughts of how the evening would pan out. ‘I think there’s a little gang of them going.’
His mouth twitched at the corners as he studied the table, with the fancy tablecloth and a little vase of flowers. Napkins. Candles. He glanced at her, his mouth a thin line.
‘I’m meeting Rob for a pint tonight, I’m not sure I’ll have time for anything to eat.’
Mel frowned, her heart fluttering with alarm. ‘After I’ve made all this effort? No! No, you’re not.’ She bit her lip, caught her temper and smoothed it down with a few soft words. ‘I’m sorry, darling. It’s just that I’ve been waiting for you.’ She mustered her brightest smile, determined that her plans wouldn’t be derailed, confident in her powers of persuasion. ‘And it’s all ready. Why don’t you sit down and I’ll dish up?’
She carried on smiling at him, while her mind whirred. It was only half past six. No way was he meeting anyone just yet. He never went out until after eight at the earliest. He knows, she thought. Knows what I want to talk to him about. Her heart clenched. The omens were not good, but she had to get to the bottom of this thing. How was she going to face all the other mums? They were popping babies out at regular intervals, and a couple of them were older than her. Why can’t it be me?
She busied herself with plates while Luke sat, his hands crunched into fists on his thighs, his body language all wrong for the conversation. But once she’d put his plate in front of him and sat opposite, she ploughed ahead anyway.
‘Luke, I don’t know what’s happened to us.’
‘What do you mean?’ He stuffed a large forkful of food in his mouth.
She sighed. This was going to take an awful lot of patience. She ate quietly for a moment and when she looked up, Luke was staring at her. She looked down at her plate. ‘I mean, we don’t even sleep together anymore.’
‘It’s probably better. I can’t disturb you then, can I?’ There was a sarcastic tone to his voice, a little snipe in his words that didn’t bode well.
She winced. Still harping on about that, are we?
‘I’m sorry, Luke. Honestly, I am. I don’t know how many times I have to apologise.’ She could hear her voice rising, going shrill and she stopped herself, took a sip of wine. ‘It’s just this piece of work I’m doing at the moment. Well, it’s crucial I get it right and make a good impression. If I don’t get all the management team on board, then we can’t get any further. As it is, the company has restructured and they’ll save half a million a year in overheads. But I can’t do that stuff if I’m half asleep and not thinking straight.’
‘Exactly.’ Luke was speed eating, sucking it down rather than chewing, and was already halfway through his plate of food. ‘That’s why it’s better if I sleep in the spare room.’
She put a hand across the table and grabbed his. ‘Darling, please forgive me. Please?’
He gave her hand a fleeting squeeze, then carried on eating again without looking up. ‘Okay.’
There was no emotion in his voice and she couldn’t believe he really meant it, but she smiled at him and lifted her glass. ‘Let’s drink to that.’
He looked up, frowning. ‘To what?’
‘Forgiveness.’
The tic at the side of his mouth twitched again as he lifted his glass and chinked it against hers before taking a large swig.
‘Luke, will you come back to our bed tonight?’
‘I think it’s better if I don’t. Honestly, Mel, I don’t want the arguments. It’s not good for any of us. Not for you, or me, and especially not good for the kids.’
‘Please, Luke. I’m not getting any younger and if we’re…’
His frown deepened. ‘If we’re what?’ He sounded suspicious. Nervous, maybe.
Her resolve snapped. ‘I can’t make a baby on my own, Luke. It’s something we talked about before we got married. It was part of the deal. What we both wanted. You said… you said you’d like another child. I wouldn’t have…’
He threw down his fork and sneered, leant towards her across the table. ‘Wouldn’t have what? That was a condition, was it? Part of the contract? Did you really want me, Mel, or was it just my sperm? Oh, and this lovely house of ours that took all my money to buy?’ He leant back and pushed his plate away. ‘And a ready-made family to get you in with the other mothers? It’s all about image with you, Mel, isn’t it?’
Mel gasped, so hurt by his words that she couldn’t speak for a moment. He’d never spoken to her like that before. Something had changed. She started to tremble.
‘I just want a baby,’ she sobbed.
He stood up and threw his napkin on the table. ‘Well, it won’t be mine.’ His gaze bored into her, his face twisted into a mask of pure vitriol. ‘I had a vasectomy.’
She stared at him, open-mouthed, her heart skipping a beat. ‘You did what?’
‘You heard,’ he said, before he grabbed his coat from where he’d dumped it over the back of a chair and walked out.
That’s when she’d had to re-evaluate everything about their relationship.
Eleven
Monday
Later that evening, Mel tried to ring the police, to ask if anything useful had come up, if they were closer to finding her family, but the line was constantly engaged. That’s a good sign, she thought, as she paced up and down in front of the fire, wondering what she could do to take her mind off things. The sound of tyres crunching on the gravel drive, accompanied by the purr of an engine, got her running to the front door. She flung it open to see the familiar police officers walking towards her.
‘Have you found them?’ Mel was talking as soon as she opened the door, gabbling to stop her mind from jumping to conclusions. ‘I saw it on the news. I tried to ring but nobody was answering, but I suppose that’s because everyone was busy taking calls?’ She held the door wide. ‘Come in, come in.’
‘No, we haven’t found them yet,’ Stevens said as they walked down the hallway towards the kitchen. ‘But the appeal has brought in some good leads, which we’re in the process of following up.’
She scurried about getting tea as the police took their usual places, needing to settle her thoughts before they started to ask questions. Because they must know by now. They must know something. She brought everything over to the table and started talking as she stirred sugar into her tea.
‘I didn’t imagine they wouldn’t have been found. Or not come back.’ She stopped stirring, realising that she was creating a mini whirlpool in her mug that was slopping tea onto the table. She tucked her hair behind her ears and the sleeve of her sweatshirt fell away, revealing her lower arm. ‘I’m scared they’re really… really gone.’
The inspector leant forwards, frowning. ‘Mrs Roberts, is that a bruise on your wrist?’
Mel gave a little gasp and dropped her hand, wriggling the sleeve back into place before she picked up her mug.
‘Can I have a look, please?’ Lockett said, gently.
Mel chewed her lip, then slowly held out her arm, a ring of blue and yellow bruises clearly visible, circling her wrist. The sergeant checked Mel’s other wrist, pulling up her sleeve to reveal a matching set of bruises.
�
�It’s nothing,’ Mel said, taking her arms back and shrugging her sleeves down again. She shook her head, dismissively. ‘I bruise easily.’
‘He did these?’ Lockett scowled. ‘Your husband?’
Mel paused and looked at her for a moment, then her eyes filled with tears and she looked away, started fiddling with her teaspoon. A hush fell over the room before she put the teaspoon down, cleared her throat and started to speak.
‘Okay. Okay. Like I said, Luke and I… well, we were having a few problems. Our last argument got a bit heated.’ She wiped her tears away with the back of her hand, unwilling to look at either of the police officers. ‘Six of one and half a dozen of the other. You know, just winding each other up.’ She shuffled in her seat, her head bowed.
‘Are you sure that’s all it is, Mrs Roberts?’ The inspector’s voice was gentle. ‘You see, we’ve had one of the children’s teachers on the phone, responding to the appeal for information. She was quite upset. And according to her, the children have bruises as well. And their father is a drunk who gets into fights. So that’s why we came back tonight. We need to know if she’s right.’
Mel looked at him then, her lips quivering as she fought to control her emotions. ‘I’m sorry… I should have…’ She covered her face with her hands, shoulders shaking as she burst into tears.
‘It’s okay, Mrs Roberts,’ Lockett said, softly. ‘It’s not your fault. We understand how hard it is in these situations. But we need you to be completely honest with us if we’re to find your husband and children.’
After a few minutes, Mel managed to bring her tears under control, aware that she was in sympathetic company. Nobody was blaming her. How could they? She let out a long, shuddering sigh, her fingers fiddling with the material of her joggers, a comfort blanket of sorts.
‘I’m sorry I haven’t been completely honest with you.’ She chewed her lip, unsure how to continue. ‘He doesn’t know his own strength. Flips when he’s mad, you see, and then he lashes out. I just hope that…’ She stopped as her chest heaved, her voice strangled. ‘I hope he hasn’t hurt them.’
The inspector shook his head, a deep frown on his face. ‘Well, he seems to have fooled a lot of people. We checked with his work colleagues and everyone said that he was troubled, but not depressed.’ He let his words settle for a moment before he continued. ‘They said that you were having problems with your marriage and he was worried about the future. Then we spoke to his doctor, who confirmed that he isn’t on medication and has never been treated for depression. Nobody thought he was suicidal.’ He caught her eye. ‘Or would do anything to harm the children.’ He waited a beat. ‘Everyone except the teacher saw him as a devoted father. So we’re just wondering what’s the truth of the situation.’
He doesn’t believe me, Mel thought. Her fists clenched under the table, anger rising within her.
‘Well, they don’t live with him,’ she snapped, sitting back in her chair, poking her chest with a finger. ‘It’s me who sees him day in, day out. Me and the kids who suffer his rantings. His drunken rages.’
Stevens raised his eyebrows, nodded his encouragement.
Her face crumpled and she wiped at her eyes with her hands, tears rolling down her cheeks. Lockett got up and fetched the box of tissues, handing it to Mel, who gulped back her tears. She dabbed at her face, blew her nose and took a deep breath.
‘It’s my fault,’ she murmured, eyes fixed on the soggy tissue in her hand. ‘I should have said no to this holiday. I should have taken them away from him. You know, acted sooner. But they’re his kids. And he was always so sorry for what he’d done. Always promised it wouldn’t happen again. And… and I believed him. Then, when…’ She stuttered to a halt and it was a moment before she continued. ‘When… he thumped Callum and gave him a black eye, and I said that was it, he had to leave, he threatened me. Said he’d rather the kids were dead than let me have them.’ She looked at the police officers, her eyes flicking from one to the other. ‘That’s why I couldn’t tell anyone. That’s why I couldn’t leave him. And that’s why I agreed to try again. I did it for the children. And to be fair to Luke, he’s been lovely to us ever since, seemed a different person, you know, much happier in himself. But it only takes a tiny thing to set him off and I just hope…’
She squeezed her eyes shut and there was silence for a moment before the inspector spoke.
‘Well, thank you for being honest with us, Mrs Roberts.’
‘I want you to find the children.’ Her voice was wrought with fear. ‘Please find them.’
‘We’re doing everything we can,’ Stevens said. ‘We’ve got officers searching for sightings of your husband and the children, following up the phone leads. But we just wanted to have a more thorough search round the house, if you don’t mind, see if we missed anything. If you’ll give us permission, we can do that now. Or we can wait and get a search warrant.’
Her eyes flicked open. ‘Of course you can look around, whatever you need to do, it’s fine.’
Mel took another tissue and wiped her face. Is now the time to tell them? she wondered. Is it too much at once? But she understood that it was better for everything to come out now. She’d probably waited too long to tell them the whole story, and she’d been too slow to call for help at the start of this whole thing.
It’s got to be now.
She gathered herself before she spoke, trying to ignore the hammering of her heart, and looked up at the police officers.
‘He got involved with… with drugs.’ She fiddled with the damp tissue in her hands, ripping it into little shreds. ‘I think he was selling the stuff.’
The inspector’s eyes widened. ‘He was a drug dealer?’ He sounded incredulous, as if perhaps he didn’t believe her.
Mel chewed her lip, nodded. ‘Marijuana.’ Her voice was a whisper, her eyes downcast.
‘And how do you know this?’
Mel didn’t look up, her cheeks reddening. ‘I had him followed. I thought he was having an affair, you see. He went out and wouldn’t tell me where he was going, or told me some lie. So I paid an investigator to follow him. He saw him dealing.’
‘Okay.’ The inspector scratched his head. ‘Well, we’ll add that to the list of things we’re looking into. I don’t suppose you have any photographic evidence we could use? Maybe help us find his supplier or customers?’
Mel shook her head. ‘I did have, but I destroyed the pictures. It wasn’t evidence that I was after, you see. I just wanted to know where he was going. And I couldn’t let him know I’d had him followed.’
She reached out and grasped the inspector’s hand. ‘Please hurry, find them while they’re still alive. I couldn’t face it if Luke… did something. Or he’s got them in trouble.’
‘Well, with this new information, I think we need to cast the net a little wider, get alerts out to ports and airports. We’ve got a few more possibilities to look at if drugs are involved.’
Mel bowed her head, unable to look at them, her ears filled with the noise of blood pulsing through her body. She looked like a woman who was mentally exhausted, emotionally drained and just wanted the whole thing to end.
‘We just need to go over your movements yesterday one more time, if you don’t mind,’ Lockett said, sounding apologetic. ‘Just so we’re clear about timings.’
Mel swallowed. ‘I told you. I stayed overnight on Saturday and set off at about midday yesterday.’ She blushed and fiddled with her ring. ‘It might have been a bit later, I didn’t really take much notice. The traffic was horrible. And I took my time. Got here about eight.’
‘Eight hours from Manchester?’ Stevens left a silence for his words to hit home. ‘That’s a long time for a relatively short journey.’
Mel swallowed again and put a hand to her forehead. ‘I might… I might have got my timings wrong. I can’t quite remember.’
‘Well, if you could just have a think for us that would be very helpful,’ Stevens said, his voice tinged with impatience.
They think I’m lying. What to do? What to do? Her mind fluttered around her options, like a trapped bird. She swallowed and looked up, her eyes flicking from Stevens to Lockett and back again.
That’s when it all became very clear. This was make or break. She had to do everything she could, say whatever she had to say, to make sure the police believed her version of events, if she was going to get her children back.
Part Two
Two Years Earlier
Twelve
Two years ago
Luke looked around the house, making sure it was perfectly empty. No toys lurking in corners, nothing left in cupboards or on shelves, the carpets clean, the kitchen and bathroom spotless. Clearing the place out had been quite an effort after living there for ten years. The kids had been born there, both of them home births, so the house held such precious memories; it had been a tough decision to leave. He looked in the living room, could almost see the birthing pool in the middle of the carpet; Anna, red-faced and straining as a new life made its way into the world. Twice he’d been blessed with that experience. He felt his chest tighten and squeezed his eyes shut, pinching the bridge of his nose to try and hold back his tears. They’d been so hopeful then, so full of plans, and now that life was gone.
He closed the door and walked to the car, wiping his face with his hands as he told himself to man up and get a grip. Be strong for the kids. He took a deep breath, shooed Bernie the cocker spaniel off the driver’s seat, and got in the car, then turned to smile at his children, who were buckled into their seats in the back, both of them looking so serious and unsure. This corner of Scotland was the only world they knew and now he was dragging them hundreds of miles away to North Wales; somewhere the locals spoke another language and where they’d never been, to live with people they didn’t know. What am I thinking?
