by Linda Huber
Sharon turned and Julie saw the numbness on her face. ‘It’s the only thing I can do to make it seem like she’s real,’ she said, her lips quivering. ‘If she’s on TV then she’s real, isn’t she?’
Julie went to hug her. ‘I’ll make some coffee. You finish checking, then come through to the kitchen,’ she said, relieved when Sharon nodded.
Julie wiped her eyes on a tea towel before starting a pot of coffee. How petty her own problems seemed now. She had two children; she knew exactly where they were and she knew they were safe, warm, fed and above all, alive. She was lucky. She should remember that next time she felt like having a moan about something inconsequential.
A few moments later Sharon and Craig came in.
‘See, it’s better in here. It’s no good watching all those reports – you’ll only get more upset,’ said Craig, pulling out a chair and almost pushing Sharon down.
She glared at him, and Julie was struck, horribly, by the sheer misery of the other woman’s entire posture.
‘And you think I don’t want to be upset? She’s my baby–’ Her voice choked into nothing.
‘She’s our baby and I’m just as upset–’ Craig was indignant, but Sharon gave him no chance to continue.
‘You bloody aren’t. You never want–’
Julie knocked on the table, wishing she could bang their heads together. ‘Guys. This isn’t helping. Craig, Sharon needs support, not criticism. Sharon, Craig needs support too. I’m sure he feels horribly guilty now.’
Craig glanced at Julie, his chin wobbling and she nodded towards Sharon. He reached out his hand and thankfully, Sharon took it. For a few moments, no one spoke.
Julie sat struggling for control. These two had what she’d never had. It was a kind of intimacy, something she’d always longed for but never found. Sharon and Craig’s marriage had been good before Sharon’s pregnancy, and maybe that would help them now.
Abruptly, Julie stood up and started to tidy round the kitchen. At least she could do something practical to help.
‘My parents are coming tomorrow,’ said Sharon dully. She stared at the table top.
‘Excellent news,’ said Julie. ‘Isn’t it?’ Sharon nodded, and Julie went on. ‘Are they staying here? Come on, then – I’ll help you get their room ready.’
She stayed with the couple until twelve, putting a pie in the oven for them before she left, and promising to return at two with some shopping.
It was a relief to get out of the flat, away from the intensity and despair. Please can Jael come home today? It was years since Julie had prayed, but going down in the lift today she found herself begging for Jael’s safety. Craig and Sharon may be intimate, but there was nothing to say their marriage would survive the death of their baby.
19
Thursday 9th June, early afternoon 12.00
Caro
His face – it was like something in a horror movie where a skull, thinly covered by skin, and with mad glassy eyes, looms up on the screen. He flung her phone into the corner and reached for her throat. Panicking, Caro made a dash for the door, forgetting all about the baby in her terror, but Jeff bounded after her, bringing her to the floor in a rugby tackle. He was snarling at her, but no-one would hear because he did it all in a whisper, and such obscenities – she’d never heard him use language like that. He pushed her flat onto her back on the cramped floor and held her there with his hands round her throat.
Christ, no; she couldn’t breathe, no, no. She didn’t want to die here, not in this disgusting place. Unable to scream, Caro struggled and kicked out, managing to get him off-balance when her leg shoved into his inner thigh.
‘Bitch!’ he hissed, jerking a hand out and grabbing the cupboard by the door. Something clattered to the floor by Caro’s head.
‘Jeff! Let me help you! We’ll work something out, I promise.’
He grabbed the thing on the floor and to Caro’s horror she saw it was a knife. She screamed, and the baby on the bed screamed too.
Jeff brandished the knife inches from her face. ‘You promise – you promised to love and cherish me, didn’t you? But now I can do what I want and it isn’t enough for madam, oh no, only a bloody baby will do. Now I’ve got one, and you’re still the same ungrateful cow, trying to get away. We are going to wait here, do you understand? That will be our baby as soon as bloody Sharon comes to her senses. You’re not leaving – I won’t let you.’
Caro’s heart was pounding in her ears, and bile was right there in her mouth. She had never been so afraid. Adrenaline surging through her, she used her good arm to pull at the hand still round her neck.
‘Keep still!’ He wrenched his hand away and slapped her face, then – Christ, no–
‘You will stay – right – here!’ he shouted, spit landing on Caro’s face.
‘Aargh!’
He was slashing at her foot, raising the knife and then hacking downwards, over and over. The pain, oh God the pain, it was the worst yet. After about the fifth stab he dropped the knife and crawled over to the bed.
Caro lay shaking, the room swirling around her. She was losing blood… If she didn’t stop the bleeding, she would die in the filth here on the floor. Moaning, she forced herself into a sitting position and pulled out the two tissues she had in her trousers pocket, but they were pitifully inadequate; there was too much blood, and oh, it hurt so much. Jeff made no effort to help her. He was standing at the window with the baby now, his back towards her, staring out at whatever was going on below.
Caro remembered the nappies in the toilet. Could she get there? ‘I’m going to get a nappy for my foot.’ Her voice was shaky and old. Like someone who was going to die soon, oh please, she didn’t want to die.
He ignored her, and Caro shuffled into the toilet on her backside, using her good arm and leg to propel her. The pain of getting there made her vomit, and for a moment she was forced to hang over the unspeakable toilet bowl. She couldn’t see what injuries her foot had suffered; she couldn’t move it. Praying that Jeff would stay where he was, she gave the toilet door a push, to let some light in. Her foot was bleeding freely from several stab wounds, there was a trail of blood across the floor, it would be a pool soon if she didn’t do something. Shivering, Caro pulled a nappy from the bag and opened it, pressing down as hard as she could bear on her foot, seeing stars as the pain intensified tenfold. But it was the only way. She leaned against the wall, pressing down, counting under her breath to prevent herself passing out. If that happened, she was doomed. ‘…seventeen, eighteen, nineteen…’
‘Get back out here.’
All she could do was obey.
Julie 12.00
To her surprise, the boy was still in the bush in front of the building. He blinked at Julie when she peered in at him and she saw traces of tears on his face.
‘Didn’t your friend come, then?’ she said, wondering why he had stayed so long. He shook his head, sniffing, and Julie crouched down until they were eye to eye. This kid was probably supposed to be sitting in a classroom in Sam’s school right now.
The boy blinked at her.
‘Why don’t you come out, and we can walk into town together?’ said Julie, holding out a hand.
He grasped it and allowed her to pull him out of the bush. Julie looked at him ruefully. Here was someone else needing help, but oh, Lord, there was only so much she could cope with in one day. The boy brushed grubby hands down his trousers, then stared up at the flats before turning abruptly towards the main road.
Julie hurried after him and together they walked past the crowd of reporters. Several held out microphones and shouted questions, but Julie gripped the boy’s arm and half-pushed him along.
‘Awful, isn’t it?’ she said, when they were clear of the crowd.
The boy stopped and looked back, two tears running down his face.
‘I don’t know what to do,’ he said, and Julie fished for tissues. The boy blew his nose vigorously.
‘That’s better,’
said Julie encouragingly, wondering what on earth she was getting involved in now. But this was just a kid – she couldn’t leave him crying on the street. ‘If you tell me what’s wrong maybe I can help.’
The boy sniffed loudly. ‘There’s this man near where I live, and yesterday my aunt went to see him, and when he opened the door he grabbed her and pulled her into the room. I don’t think she got out again.’
He looked at her sideways, and Julie stared. There must be more to the story than that.
‘Didn’t you tell your parents?’
He shook his head. ‘My dad’s away with the lorry again.’
‘So who’s looking after you?’
‘Alfie’s mum. I didn’t tell her. I said I was going to the dentist with Kev and his dad.’
‘Then what were you doing in that bush?’
‘I tried to call Auntie Caro again this morning, but she’s still not answering. So I found her address, and I was going there to see if she’d got back okay, then I saw this is where the missing baby from the telly lives, and this man, he’s got a baby, see, and I wanted to ask the missing baby’s mum if it was the same baby, but then they all came–’ He waved back towards the reporters camped by the flats ‘–so I hid in the bush.’
Julie could hardly believe her ears. There was no way to tell if this man was Jeff Horne, but someone should check it out. Her hands were shaking as she pulled out her mobile. The easiest thing would be just to call Max, that way she could avoid explanations about who she was and what she was doing.
‘Max? Sorry to call you like this but it might be important.’ Quickly, she relayed the story the boy had told her, getting him to add names and addresses as far as he knew them. Her heart was doing triple time when she finished. If this baby was Jael, the whole ghastly situation was about to come to an end. But of course, it could still be an innocent man with his baby.
Max remained calm. ‘Okay. We’ll get right onto that. Can you take the kid back to his home, Julie, and stay with him in the meantime? I don’t want him doing a disappearing act until we see what we find in that room. See you.’
Julie ended the call and turned to the boy. ‘We’ve to go back to your place. I’m Julie, what’s your name?’
They started along the road, a tiny flame of hope flickering in Julie’s breast for the first time in days. Maybe this was it, maybe they’d get Jael back now and everything would be all right.
An air of excitement was fizzing through the High Street. People were craning their necks to see what was going on further up, where police cars were doubled parked on both sides of the road. Julie hurried along, one hand on Liam’s shoulder. Max was one of several police officers by the entrance to Mortimer Square, which was now taped off. Two officers were busy stretching tape across the High Street, too. Julie’s mouth went dry.
Max saw them coming, and strode over to meet them. ‘We’ve confirmed Caroline Horne is missing.’ He smiled briefly, but he was obviously worried, keeping eye contact with her to a minimum.
Julie’s stomach lurched anew. She’d hurt him, and now that he was standing in front of her again she realised how very much she didn’t want to hurt him. When all this was over she would tell him that, but this was neither the time nor the place.
He continued steadily. ‘And Jeff Horne’s car was found yesterday evening, in the hospital car park.’ He turned to the boy beside Julie. ‘Is this your man?’ He held out a photograph and the boy nodded energetically.
Max went on. ‘I need you to tell us exactly which room this man is in.’
Liam launched into an involved explanation.
Max glanced into the square. ‘And where do you live, Liam?
‘Garner Road.’ The boy pointed to the next street along from the square.
Max turned to Julie. ‘Okay. We’ve cleared the square. Reinforcements are on their way and as soon as they arrive they’ll start negotiating. This is serious, Julie, it could be a hostage situation. We’ve a public order unit on standby. You and Liam go to his place and wait indoors – someone will be in touch.’
‘What about Craig and Sharon?’
‘Their FLO’s on her way to them now.’
Julie nodded. She took Liam’s elbow firmly and blinked up at Max. ‘Good luck.’
His expression relaxed for a moment and he smiled. A lump rose chokingly at the back of Julie’s throat.
Liam led the way up Garner Road, into a doorway, and along the tunnel-like entrance close to the flat door, which he unlocked. His home, a long flat with high ceilings and shabby paintwork, backed onto Mortimer Square. Liam went into the living room, which overlooked the front of the building, and Julie joined him. There was no way to see what was happening on the square.
‘Will your dad be home tonight?’ said Julie.
A shake was the only answer.
‘Is there a window where we can see into the square?’ asked Julie, sitting on the arm of a large red armchair.
‘You might from the bathroom.’
He ran off, presumably to check, and a door slammed behind him. Julie waited. It was sickening, knowing that Jael was only about fifty metres away, and being powerless to help her.
The toilet flushed, and a moment later Liam reappeared, his cheeks pink. ‘There’s an ambulance just off the square and loads more police cars,’ he said, his voice high and excited.
Julie pressed her hands between her knees. Had the police found Jeff and Jael? And Craig and Sharon – what was going on there? Julie took out her mobile, looked at it, then put it back into her bag. It might not be a good idea to phone now. But oh, please, please let Jael be all right.
There was silence in the flat, and Julie sat picturing what might be going on in the square. What was it usually like there at this time? There would be shoppers, hurrying to and from the High Street. Office workers would come and sit on those benches and have lunch, especially on warm days like today. Kids would hang around and talk and flirt, and play with their phones. It wasn’t an unattractive little place on a summer’s day, Mortimer Square.
The inactivity was agonising. But all she could do was wait.
Jeff 2.10 p.m.
It was all going terribly, horribly wrong and he didn’t know what to do. Stupid, stupid Caro. He could give her another hard slap for this; it was all her fault they were in this mess. He’d done more than could be expected of him – he’d searched for and got her a baby, not their own baby, granted, but under the circumstances this baby was pretty near perfect. And it was even an unwanted baby, so he had done a good thing in finding her a loving home.
Jeff sank down on the bed and wiped his face with one hand. He stared helplessly at Caro and the baby. They were in the corner by the door, where Caro was sitting awkwardly on the floor, the baby clutched to her chest. His head began to buzz as he looked at her; it was all wrong, his Caro sitting there like that. He couldn’t stand this, he really couldn’t take much more and his head was swinging all over the place now, like on one of those tortuous rides at the fairground. Rollercoaster. The floor was no longer steady – was he really here or was he dreaming? Caro looked pale, poor thing, maybe she had the same appalling headache he had. He could hear her breathing. It sounded funny – ragged, shaky breaths that seemed to come all the way up from her boots. Except she wasn’t wearing boots, she had a sort of strappy summer shoe on one foot, and on the other she only seemed to be wearing a bloody sock or something, how odd. Why was there blood on Caro’s foot?
Clarity flashed and the room rocked. Oh Christ. He had used the knife to stop her leaving, poor stupid thing that she was. She was the mother of his child, so she had to stay here with him.
He stood up and stamped his feet. That was better, the ground felt steadier now. Encouraged, he walked up and down. What was he doing here again? Oh yes, they were waiting until Sharon confirmed she didn’t want the baby, and then they could all go home. Home, home. If he’d been able to stay there with the baby in the first place, everything would have been so
much better. But that was what the world was like now – idiots like Sharon and Caro were allowed to manipulate things. It wasn’t right.
‘Jeff, I need another nappy for my foot.’
He could hardly hear her. How stupid she was, whispering like that. But she was shivering, so perhaps she had a fever. He stood up and picked up the knife. She mustn’t run off again. ‘Give me the baby, then.’
Her eyes were wild. ‘No! Jeff, put the knife down. I can’t… go… anywhere now.’
She shrank back against the bed, sobbing in a throaty whisper. Her chin was shaking. Ignoring her, Jeff dropped the knife on the bed and grabbed the baby from her, swearing when Caro screamed in a whisper.
He kicked at her backside. ‘Quiet! You’ll wake her!’
He clutched the baby to his chest, but she was awake already, mewing in a funny little breathless voice. Jeff sat on the bed and shushed her, rocking back and forth until she was still again, all floppy and warm; oh, how perfect she was. Miriam, they would call her Miriam.
Caro struggled up while he watched. She had gone terribly pale; even her lips were white. He lifted the knife to point at her, the baby cradled in his other arm. Oh – Caro’s foot. There was blood everywhere.
He put both the baby and knife down while Caro was in the toilet being sick again, and prepared a bottle. You never knew with babies when they’d need the next feed. He was doing so well today, being a real caring Dad, and how frustrating that he wasn’t able to do it in his own four walls.
Caro still looked like death when she came out of the toilet. She’d wrapped more nappies round her foot, what a hare-brained idea. She hopped back to the corner by the door and lowered herself to the floor. Why didn’t she sit next to him on the bed?
‘You can give the baby her bottle,’ he said, coldly to show her how despicable she was. But he loved Caro, so why was she despicable? His head was so up and down today. The knife nestling in his hand again, he passed her the baby and handed over the bottle.
