‘Papa Paul, he can call me,’ Paul had said as the baby lay contented in his arms. ‘I wouldn’t want him to call me Grandpa.’
She liked him for that, realised as the weeks went on that she liked him for a lot of things.
When Roxy had first gone, her mother and Jennifer had almost fallen apart, blaming themselves for Roxy running away. They had worried about her, tried to find her – had never given up. Even when the letter had come telling them she was fine – oh yes, Roxy realised she had fallen right in with the Dyces’ plans writing that letter – her mother and Jennifer had never given up trying to find her. In fact, the letter had spurred them on, had given them hope that she was still alive. But it was Paul who had held them all together. Paul who had taken charge of everything.
Her life was so different now. Back home, safe with her family. But what about Anne Marie? The police could find no trace of her. And Roxy gave up waiting to hear from her. But Roxy knew she would never forget her soft Irish voice and the friendship she had shared with her those months in Dragon House.
Maybe Roxy would never find out where she was or what happened to her. Perhaps, she told herself, that was for the best. That way, she could believe that Anne Marie had made it, that she had somehow been reunited with her baby. She prayed it was so every night. That Anne Marie was even now somewhere safe back in Ireland with little Aidan running about, playing and laughing. That Anne Marie would live out her days happy at last, with Aidan, the love of her life.
A Note from the Author
I had just finished a school event and as I drove home I switched on the radio in the car. A young girl was being interviewed. I was so shocked by what she was saying that I stopped the car to listen. The girl was an illegal immigrant, vulnerable and pregnant and alone in a strange country. When people had offered to look after her, she had been grateful for their kindness. When her baby was born and they told her the baby had died, she had no reason to disbelieve them. Only later did she find out the truth, and the truth was the most horrific story I had ever heard.
Someone has to write a book about this, I thought in that instant.
Then I had another thought. Wait a minute, I’m a writer. Why don’t I write a book about it? But how could I write a children’s story about such a horrific subject?
Then I realised that this was happening to young girls, the girls I write about and for. And by the time I arrived home Roxy’s story was in my head and I was desperate to write it down.
It wasn’t an easy book to write. Part of me felt guilty about writing it as a thriller. After all, these things were really happening. It was a story too that made me cry. I still can’t read the last sentence without a lump in my throat. But, this was Roxy’s story, and she was such a wonderful character to write about. Roxy starts off as a selfish little madam, who thinks the world revolves around her, who thinks only about herself. Yet she ends up a tigress who will kill to protect that baby of hers. I love Roxy for all her faults and failings.
Most of all I have to thank Bloomsbury for trusting me to write this book based solely on the passion I felt for Roxy and her baby.
Acknowledgements
A special thanks to Sarah for trusting me to write Roxy’s story, and to Roxy Clark for letting me use her wonderful name
Also by Cathy MacPhail
Run, Zan, Run
Missing
Bad Company
Dark Waters
Fighting Back
Another Me
Underworld
Worse Than Boys
Also:
Nemesis 1: Into the Shadows
Nemesis 2: The Beast Within
Nemesis 3: Sinister Intent
Nemesis 4: Ride of Death
Bloomsbury Publishing, London, Berlin and New York
This electronic edition published in September 2012 by Bloomsbury Publishing Plc
First published in Great Britain in 2005 by Bloomsbury Publishing Plc
50 Bedford Square
London WC1B 3DP
This edition published in 2009
Copyright © Catherine MacPhail 2005
The moral right of the author has been asserted
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eISBN 978-1-4088-1658-5
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Roxy's Baby Page 16
