Jade paled, now definitely looking shocked. ‘Oh God, Mark, that’s awful. Poor Melissa.’
‘It was.’ Mark took a swig of his whisky. ‘Bloody awful, to be honest. There was a point where I thought I might lose Mel as well. I felt I’d already lost her emotionally. She came back to me, eventually, but…’
Mark trailed off. He hadn’t realised he’d finished his drink until Jade walked across to relieve him of the glass. ‘Another?’ she asked him kindly.
Mark glanced from her to the glass. Alcohol was small comfort, in reality. He’d depended on it too heavily in the past, but now he felt the need to anaesthetise himself, at least for tonight. ‘Better make it a small one.’ He smiled. ‘Thanks, Jade.’
‘You were saying?’ Jade urged him on, as she poured a small measure.
‘It’s not something you just get over,’ Mark confided. ‘Mel really had to work hard at it. She took antidepressants, prescribed on a trial and error basis, had psychoanalysis. She hated it. Hated herself for it. She’s lived in fear of slipping back there since. I suppose we both just hoped it had gone away.’ He’d certainly hoped, desperately. Obviously, he’d buried his head in the sand, rather than realise she might never be truly ‘cured’.
Leaning forward, Mark dragged his hands exhaustedly over his face, and then looked up, surprised, as Jade placed a hand on his shoulder. ‘I’m sorry, Mark,’ she said sympathetically. ‘I know how difficult that must have been for you. It’s hard on the sufferer, but it’s hard on loved ones too.’
Accepting the drink she offered him, Mark eyed her curiously.
‘My mum,’ Jade elucidated, smiling sadly. ‘She struggled with depression for years. I do understand, honestly.’
Mark felt a huge surge of relief, and then concern, as he recalled her personal circumstances. ‘That’s not how she…?’ He stopped, not sure how to ask whether she’d had to deal with the worst kind of loss possible.
Jade shook her head. ‘No, I lost my parents in a car accident,’ she said, heading back to the sofa. ‘The car caught fire, actually,’ she said, seating herself in the corner and drawing her legs up underneath her. ‘A gruesome coincidence.’
Christ. A graphic flashback slamming violently into him: images of the dead child who haunted his dreams, calling ceaselessly out to him. Mark almost choked on his whisky.
‘Are you all right, Mark?’ Jade asked, unfurling herself and getting to her feet. ‘You look as if you’ve seen a ghost.’
Mark drained his glass. ‘Yes,’ he managed, nodding. ‘Just exhausted.’ Definitely exhausted, he realised. He needed to sleep. And he really needed not to be drinking this stuff on top of endless nights broken with nightmares bordering on hallucination. ‘You must be, too.’
‘A bit,’ Jade admitted.
‘I’m sorry, Jade. About your parents,’ Mark offered. ‘That must have been so hard to deal with.’
‘It was. But we cope when we have to, don’t we?’ Smiling stoically, she shrugged, and then turned quickly to the door as the unmistakable sounds of Evie waking reached their ears.
‘I’ll go,’ Mark said, dumping his glass on the coffee table. ‘You try and get some sleep.’
Jade caught his arm as he joined her in the hall. ‘I have her feed ready,’ she reminded him. ‘Go to Melissa.’ She smiled reassuringly. ‘She might need you. And don’t worry, Mark, I’m not going to run at the first family hiccup. The children will need support too.’
Hearing her humming sweetly as he bypassed the nursery five minutes later, Mark couldn’t help but be in awe of her. How she had coped, losing her parents like that and yet remaining positive and cheerful, he really didn’t know.
He peered quickly into Poppy’s room. Hercules was alert, looking up at him when he popped his head in, as usual. Everything seemingly normal. Yet normality was slipping away. Again.
Climbing in beside Mel for a second time, Mark reached gently for her. He needed to feel the wholeness of her, to reassure her he was here, though he doubted she would wake, given her sleep patterns over the last few weeks and the alcohol in her system. Mark was pretty sure she must have been hitting the booze earlier that day. The few wines she’d had while they were at the restaurant wouldn’t have rendered her inebriated to the point of unconsciousness.
How long might she have been secretly drinking, he wondered. What might have precipitated it, caused her to reach for alcohol as a crutch, as she had done once before? He had no way of knowing. If only he’d been aware, been paying attention, then maybe, just maybe, he could have done something to help her.
Mel stirred a little in his arms. No more than that. Mark moved closer, pressing a soft kiss to her cheek, and then dragging a hand across his face to wipe a salty tear from his own.
Thirty
JADE
For God’s sake! What now? Jade was halfway through a phone conversation with drippy Dylan, who was fretting about the girl, who apparently looked ‘sickly’, when she heard the commotion from the other end of the landing. Storming from her room, she only just managed to wipe the scowl from her face as Mark emerged from his bedroom. Looking worse for wear after his horrendous night out with his mental wife, followed by two sizeable whiskies, precious little sleep, and obviously panic-stricken, he hadn’t bothered pulling on anything but his tracksuit bottoms.
Appreciating the view, Jade turned the flash off on her phone and took a photo to inspect more thoroughly at leisure, and then bolted after him as Mark headed for Poppy’s room, where the child was howling like a banshee.
‘Poppy? What on earth?’ Mark faltered inside the bedroom door, clearly bewildered. Jade, one step behind – and contemplating poisoning the dog, who was emitting a low growl at the sight of her – could see why.
‘What’s happened, Poppy?’ Concerned, as obviously he would be, Mark walked over to where Poppy was sitting cross-legged in the middle of the bed, cradling the goldfish bowl.
‘Nemo’s died,’ Poppy wailed, dragging an arm under her snotty nose as she looked up at him. ‘He’s floating on the water. He’s dead, Daddy. He’s dead!’
Little brat. She’d make her eat the fucking fish for breakfast. Seething quietly in the doorway, Jade noted the foul-smelling water had soaked through Poppy’s nightie and into the duvet beneath her, which would now have to be washed by yours truly, with Melissa about as much use as a fart in a spacesuit.
‘Hey, hey. Come on, Poppet.’ Mark joined her on the bed, wrapping an arm around her and kissing the top of her head. It was such a tender gesture, Jade couldn’t resist taking another photo. ‘Let me take a look,’ Mark gently cajoled her. ‘He might just be sleeping.’
‘He’s not sleeping!’ Fresh tears sprang from Poppy’s eyes. ‘He’s dead!’
Nodding understandingly, Mark squeezed her closer and then reached into the water.
Ugh. Jade recoiled as the slimy fish floated onto the palm of his hand. She watched in wonder as Mark blew softly on it. He really was the nicest, kindest person she’d ever known. He looked a bit crestfallen when it didn’t twitch so much as a fin, despite several attempts at resuscitation.
‘I think he might be, sweetheart,’ he eventually conceded, with a sympathetic sigh. ‘I’m guessing that means God must have wanted him for Baby Jesus’ aquarium.’
Mark looked down at Poppy, shrugging sadly.
Judging by the stubborn little crease in her forehead, though, Poppy wasn’t buying it. ‘But why does God want him for baby Jesus’ aquirum?’ She looked querulously up at him.
To feed the five thousand, thought Jade, mentally rolling her eyes – though she had to admire Mark’s ingenuity.
‘Because…’ Stopping, Mark furrowed his brow, clearly struggling for what to say next.
‘Because Baby Jesus’ aquarium is the ocean,’ Jade supplied, as he glanced helplessly in her direction.
Poppy looked towards her, blinking huge, hopeful eyes.
‘One of the walls of his nursery is made of glass,’ Jade went on, wal
king across to kneel in front of her, rather than perch on the side of the wet bed. ‘He watches over the fish to make sure all the lost little ones find their mummies and daddies and swim in fish heaven together forever.’
Poppy looked, awestruck, from Jade to Mark and back again. ‘Like Dory? She found her mummy and daddy,’ she whispered, and warming to the idea, judging by her expression.
‘Just like Dory.’ Mark smiled at Jade, looking hugely relieved.
‘They based the film on it, didn’t they, Mark?’ Her heart skipping a beat at the warmth in his decadent chocolate-brown eyes, Jade got to her feet before she melted in front of him.
‘Yup.’ Mark played along perfectly. ‘It’s a true story.’
Poppy looked up at him and then to Jade – her wide eyes so trusting, it could almost be touching. ‘Will you help me bury him, Jade?’
‘Of course I will,’ Jade promised with a reassuring smile. ‘I’ll just go and see to Evie first.’ She indicated the nursery, beyond the door of which Evie was crying, having woken up far too early.
‘And I’d better see to you, young lady.’ Mark placed the fish carefully back into the bowl and got to his feet. ‘We’ll leave him there for now, where he’s safe,’ he said, reaching to relieve Poppy of the bowl.
Parking it on the dressing table on the opposite wall, he gave Jade a conspiratorial wink as she headed for the door. Something deep within her swooped in response. Mark turned back to his daughter, who, in Jade’s opinion, was demanding far more of his time than was healthy. ‘Come on, Poppet, up we come,’ he said, plucking her up from the bed. ‘We can’t send Nemo to fish heaven wearing a wet nightie, can we? Arms up,’ he instructed, giving Jade another photo opportunity as he tugged the soggy nightie up over Poppy’s head.
Jade didn’t particularly want a wriggling, shivering, naked child in the photo, but with Mark’s state of undress… How was a girl to resist? And Mark might like the photos, she supposed, later, should Poppy no longer be around.
Humming happily, she turned to the nursery, nipping deftly inside when she glimpsed Melissa stumbling from the main bedroom. Jade shuddered as she closed the door. Bleary-eyed and white-faced, and with her bleached blonde hair scarily all over the place, the woman looked like something the cat had dragged in. She thought fleetingly of the feline fleabag they’d assumed was hers. She really hoped Dylan didn’t get it into his head to go poking around in the depths of his freezer. Preferring his mummy’s home-cooking to his own culinary disasters, he wasn’t likely to, and she had wrapped her parcel securely, first in polythene, then a carrier bag, before finally sealing it in a Perspex box and marking it Baby Milk. She’d told him it was imperative the box wasn’t opened until the milk was ready to use, but still, she really ought to move it soon.
Jade hurried across to lift Evie from her cot. ‘Hello, my gorgeous baby girl.’ She flashed her a smile. ‘Let’s get you changed and fed, shall we? We don’t want silly Melissa interfering, do we, Angel? No, we do not.’ Jade’s smile widened as, clearly delighted to see her, Evie chuckled gleefully and gave her a gummy grin.
Catching one excitedly flailing hand, Jade cradled her in the crook of her arm and pressed a kiss to her tiny fingers. ‘We want her gone, don’t we, my precious?’ she whispered. ‘Out of our lives forever and ever.’
Thirty-One
MARK
The local search for Daisy had now been widened, concentrating on woodland, orchards, beer factories and cider mills. Mark, meanwhile, was painstakingly going through historical maps and small-scale ordnance surveys, looking for abandoned buildings with basement access and properties that might no longer exist above ground level, in particular those with concealed septic tanks, or any conceivable place that might be used to secrete a small body.
‘How’s it going elsewhere?’ Lisa asked him, coming back from a call-out to the town centre, where a group of local youths had decided to break the tedium of hanging around looking bored and had phoned in a sighting of the girl. Another false alarm.
Mark guessed she was asking after Melissa. Edwards had pulled him up twice this week for tardiness, now the norm for him with pandemonium on the home front. Mel had gone from sleeping heavily to waking several times in the night, thus insisting on taking over the night feeds. Mark would have been glad of it, grateful, were it not for the fact that he felt he had to watch her like a hawk, which really didn’t make him feel great. Plus, it had thrown Evie’s routine into chaos. Jade must have the patience of a saint, Mark had decided. She hadn’t said so, but he’d guessed, from the look in her eyes, that she wasn’t happy trusting Mel with the baby. Mel was also trying to catch up and fill the orders that had come in from Garden & Homes head office. Mark had been relieved, until he’d helped her load some ceramic stuff into her car, only to discover a carrier bag full of empty wine bottles.
‘One day at a time.’ Mark smiled wearily in Lisa’s direction, glad she was concerned enough to ask. He’d discovered from Lisa the full extent of Mel’s reaction to his ill-timed text last week. Apparently, Mel had been reasonably calm, asking Lisa to leave and then telling her she didn’t think for one minute he’d fucked her, because he preferred younger women with tits. Mark still winced when he thought about that scenario. Lisa obviously didn’t text him early in the morning any more, which meant he was rarely up to speed when he did finally arrive at the station.
‘He’s still imagining the girl’s alive,’ Cummings said as he walked past Mark’s desk, heading for the door. Obviously, he had assumed they were discussing Daisy.
‘There’s always the possibility,’ Lisa pointed out.
‘No chance,’ Cummings called back from the corridor. ‘She’s pushing up daisies, mate.’
‘Crass bastard,’ Lisa tossed after him. ‘Can’t we do something about him?’ She turned back to Mark, visibly agitated. ‘I mean, do we have to share an office with the twat?’
‘It’s not easy when his old man’s Edwards’ golfing buddy, but, trust me, I’m trying,’ Mark assured her. Frankly, he’d rather work from the toilet than share an office with the man, but he was stuck with him, for now.
Sighing, he got to his feet. He’d pulled up a possible location – a pre-existing cottage on the perimeter of the Hawthorn Farm land. He needed to get uniforms together to check it out.
‘Maybe I’ll just hire a hitman,’ Lisa muttered moodily.
Mark’s mouth twitched into a smile. ‘Nice idea. Not allowed, unfortunately.’
‘Plan B then,’ Lisa said.
Mark arched an eyebrow.
‘Laxatives in his coffee, since he’s so fond of spouting crap.’
Mark shook his head as he collected up his jacket. ‘Messy,’ he said.
‘Mark… if you need anything, an ear anytime, you know where I am. Right?’
‘Cheers, Lisa.’ Mark nodded appreciatively. ‘I might take you up on that. But I think we have things pretty much under control for the moment.’
Assuming Mel accepted help getting things under control that was, and kept her doctor’s… Shit! Mark checked his watch and hurriedly pulled out his phone. He’d meant to call and remind her what time her appointment was.
Thirty-Two
MELISSA
After several unsuccessful attempts to feed Evie, to the exasperated stares of some of the patients in the waiting room, Mel gave up, close to tears. Hurriedly, she got to her feet, pressing Evie to her shoulder. She’d already tried rocking her, changing her, pushing her around in her stroller, waving the few toys they had in the surgery at her, walking around with her, but still Evie wailed as if she were being murdered.
Growing more and more fraught, Melissa almost had a heart attack when her phone rang, hurriedly grabbing it from her coat pocket. Seeing it was Mark, she hit answer and snapped into it, ‘What? I’m here!’
‘I thought I’d just check,’ Mark said. ‘Make sure you made it okay.’
‘It’s a trip to the doctor’s, Mark, not an Antarctic expedition. I do not
need checking up on.’
‘Right.’ Mark paused. ‘Is that Evie crying?’
Mel was tempted to end the call. Who the hell did he think it was? ‘Yes,’ she said shortly. ‘I’m trying to feed her.’
Mark paused, infuriatingly. If he could hear Evie crying, why didn’t he just go? ‘I take it Jade isn’t with you then?’ he asked cautiously.
‘No. I don’t need a babysitter either, Mark.’ Mel felt her hackles rising. ‘I’m an adult. I’m quite capable of driving myself to the doctors.’ She felt tears welling afresh, even as she said it. She did need a babysitter, for Evie. Clearly. But she was her mother. Why couldn’t she seem to do anything right for her?
‘You drove there?’ Now Mark sounded disbelieving.
Pulling the phone away from her ear, Mel stared at it and then ended the call. Why didn’t he trust her? Why did he keep watching her, as if waiting for her to fall? Was she falling? Had she only imagined she’d been happy and content such a short while ago? That Evie had? Her family?
Was it possible she was going mad? That she’d been the only one not to notice it, until now? Cold fear constricted her stomach, icy fingers tugging at her heart, at her mind. In this room full of people, she suddenly felt utterly alone.
‘What is it, sweetheart?’ she whispered, pressing her face to the top of Evie’s soft, downy head, breathing in the smell that was supposed to bind mother and baby together forever. Yet Evie didn’t want her. It was as if she could see, through her innocent child’s eyes, that her mummy wasn’t who she was supposed to be.
Mel wasn’t aware of the fat tears sliding down her cheeks, the anguished sob escaping her throat. She didn’t hear her name being called, until Dr Meadows spoke right next to her, slid an arm around her shoulders and steered her gently towards one of the nurses’ rooms.
The Babysitter: A gripping psychological thriller with edge-of-your-seat suspense Page 14
