I clearly remember him bringing a picnic each time and showing me the house as if it were the first time. Then, years later, I was taken there every year with primary school to do a play. The house had a ballroom, big enough for all the kids in the remote school to fit in and watch, spellbound, as the older children acted out Shakespeare and Roald Dahl.
Five years later it was demolished as unsafe and he was gone. Most of it, anyway. I remember picking through the ruins and seeing scary gargoyles and figurines lying amongst the rubble. They’d stare up at us, dead eyed and crumbling in the often extreme weather.
I dial Keith quickly.
'Which primary school did Tina go to?'
He checked quickly.
'Roundhouse Primary. Uppermill.'
The same one as me. But she would have been in the year below me. I focus on the last year, when we performed Romeo and Juliet at Ashway House. I breathe in slowly and try to capture the conversation, the scenes afterwards. The posters that appeared just before I left primary school. The Little girl on the posters, wrapped in a brown shawl wearing clogs. The teachers rewriting it with a happy ending. The Red Shoes.
I turn to Lauren, wide eyed and suddenly excited by my realisation.
‘I know where she is. I know where Tina is.’
She jumps up.
‘Where is she? Ring through and tell Steve.’
‘No. I’ll do that when I’m sure. I’ll direct you.’
We’re hurrying to her car and she’s annoyed.
‘You mean you think you know?’
‘No. I’m almost sure. But I want to be absolutely certain before we call in the troops. I want to try to resolve this myself without anything happening to Maisie. Tina’s in a fragile state and hundreds of police stampeding across the moor isn’t going to help. ’
I give her directions and she drives at breakneck speed until we reach the sailing club. Once out of the car, I point up to the gap in the rocks.
‘She’s up there.’
Lauren’s eyes follow my fingertip up to the high rocks, on an incline across the moorland.
‘With a car? I doubt it.’
‘She is. She’s driven across the moorland and into the gap between the rocks. There’s a massive storm drain up there, an overflow from the reservoir above. It’s quite sheltered up there, but she’ll be able to see across most of the open land in front of her. So we’ll have to take the long way round.’
I look at Lauren’s feet. Trainers today under her smart black trouser suit. I’m wearing my standard flat shoes and black trouser combination.
‘Which is the long way round then? Naturally, I’ll follow you.’
I point up to the rocks again.
‘We’ll follow the outline if the rocks along the bottom. It looks like there’s an overhang and some small rocks that will shield us if she looks out. But we need to stay very close to the rock face.’
I look out over the horizon. Right in front of me is a rock formation that resembles and Indian’s head dress if you turn your head sideways. There are a few dog walkers over by the sailing club and, on the other side of the water, a small group of windsurfers. Over on the forest side there’s a walking group but they won’t make it this far for a while yet. I try to judge the distance from the ravine to the edge of the water. Probably only about fifty feet. So if she saw us coming she could drive the car into the reservoir with Maisie in it.
It’s a risk. But it’s one I have to take. If I can just reach her without being seen I’ve got a chance of rescuing Maisie.
‘When we reach then end of the rocks keep down and we’ll see what the situation is. If she’s there, we’ll phone Steve for backup and then approach her. Until then we need to turn our phones off.’
Lauren looks doubtful.
‘No. What about control? They’ll see our phones are turned off and think something has happened.’
‘OK. I’ll text Keith first.’
She’s still not happy.
‘The thing is, Jan, I’m trained for this and my risk assessment is that we should wait for backup. You’re not even supposed to be doing this.’
‘Look Lauren, I know it’s risky but what choice do we have? Every second counts. We’ve already lost time searching in the wrong place. If we wait for backup we’ll be too late. I just want to talk to her. That’s what I’m trained to do. Negotiate. And she knows me. She knows what I’ve done before and I think I’ve begun to get her trust. If we leave it and wait and she does anything…’
She doesn’t really have any choice, except to go back. But she stays.
‘OK. But if she’s armed…’
‘She’s got a car full of chemicals. I doubt if she’ll have any firearms. Why would she? But agreed. If she’s armed we’ll wait.’
I see the fear in her face. She’s right. I’m supposed to do this without agreement from Steve. But I’ve found myself in desperate situations so many times with people who have that I know the script. I know when to act and when to wait and what’s borderline. It occurs to me that I might be influenced by my lack of fear in general, and my seemingly eternal optimism, but I can’t stand by and watch. Yes, it’s got me into deep trouble and nearly cost me my life but in this situation, like the others, a life is at stake. In this case a tiny life. A small girl whose parents are relying on me to rescue her. I promised them that I would do everything in my power to get her back and a promise is a promise. Ten, fifteen minutes waiting for operations to and another twenty waiting for them to strategize, all the time in full view of Tina could have fatal consequences.
So I have no choice. We have no choice. I could offer Lauren the chance to wait here while I go on my own, but despite her protests she wouldn’t take it. The reason she is here is that SMIT doesn’t give up. Our team on the Met used to say ‘there’s no I in a team. Or hero’. While it was a different set up, less planning and more winging it, it’s the same idea. We get these difficult cases because they’re difficult. Difficult cases, difficult decisions.
We switch our phones off and walk to the rocks. I touch their coolness and lean against them.
‘Keep out of the heather. There are birds in there, lots of them, and if you walk near them they’ll scatter and she’ll know we’re here. Same with the pollen. If you disturb the plants the pollen will rise and she’ll see it. Lauren, if you don’t want to do this, stay here and I’ll go to talk to her.’
She swallows hard and I know she’s thinking about it. I know she’s thinking about her twins, safe at home with her husband. What would happen to them if anything happened to her? She turns up for work every day with that on her mind, but now it’s drilling into her, because this situation is critical.
‘I still think we should call for backup. But I’m not letting you go on your own, Jan. I couldn’t do that.’
I pause for a second and wonder if this is just desperation. I have no real proof that Tina is there, between the rocks. None at all. Just instinct. But isn’t that what Steve called for? Extra? Isn’t that what everyone expects me to do, think outside the box? But what if she’s not there? I look out across the heather. It’s uneven and at this level it’s impossible to see two rows of tyre tracks. If I were her I would have driven close to the rocks, like we are, and not through the centre of the moor. I would have been aware, even at that point, that the baby I’d taken was being missed and that the police would be out in force looking for her.
But then again I’m privileging Tina with a sense of reasoning. And isn’t this what it all boils down to? Her bad decision making due to her condition? The skewed thinking because of her being at the end of her tether? I signal for Lauren to stay where she is and I crouch low and inch my way through the heather. It’s a risk; as if she is there she might see me. But I have to be sure. I bend low until I’m almost level with the tall heather and the gorse and move farther out. Eventually I come to a gap. The heather is flattened to the ground in a line. I stand up just enough to be able to see a matching gap alo
ngside it, leading in a curve to the rocks and then swerving to the right.
I make my way back to Lauren.
‘She’s here alright. You can call Steve now and then we’ll set off.’
Chapter Twenty Five
We scramble up the gap in the vegetation beside the rocks and reach the edge of the turning. I know Tina is around the corner, but unsure how far up the ravine she is. Lauren is tucked in close behind me and as we approach we can hear the Red Shoes. It sounds slightly muffled. It’s audible from the car, so it can’t be too far up the slope.
I turn to Lauren and whisper to her.
‘This put the odds farther in our favour. She won’t hear us above that noise. And she’ll probably have her earphones in as well.’
Lauren grabs my arm and hisses at me.
‘I thought you were just going to talk to her?’
I turn back and crouch down. There’s less chance of her spotting me if I’m not at eye level when I peep around the corner. I summon up the blood and look. She’s about halfway up the ravine. The car is parked underneath the overhanging rocks as I expected. The crags and boulders almost form a tunnel up the memorial forest in the distance. No wonder the helicopter couldn’t find her. From this angle I can’t see if Maisie is in the front of the car.
Tina is walking around with her headphones in. She’s talking to someone, gesticulating, and at first I think that she’s talking to herself. But as the story changes to another repeat loop, I hear snippets of her conversation. She’s talking to Glen. I turn back and phone Keith. He answers in one.
‘Jan. Where are you?’
I ignore his question.
‘Can you patch me through to Glen Wrights answer phone? She’s calling his answerphone.’
‘Yeah. I know. We’ve been tracking her calls. This is the third time she’s called it. First two were phone down, but up to now she’s just sworn at him and told him that she took the car. I’ll patch you in now. How did you know she was calling Glen?’
No time to explain.
‘Just patch me through.’
I suddenly hear Tina’s voice on the line, echoing her in front of me, filling in gaps that are drowned out by rushing water in the storm drain.
‘… and you didn’t even care enough to look after your own child. If you don’t fucking like me, fine. I’m not that keen on you either. But Jennifer? And now you’re going to have to look after her. Or she won’t have anyone. She needs you when I’m gone Glen. You…’
The call cuts out and I see her look at her phone and redial.
‘You were right. I’m a shit mum. I can’t make her happy.’ She starts to cry. ‘She’s so beautiful, Glen, so pretty and funny. But I can’t make her stop crying. All night. I can’t do it. I feel… I feel…useless. So…’
The answerphone cuts out again and she screams and throws the phone towards the water. Her back is turned now and I look farther up the ravine. And there it is. A stone panel leaning against a rock. It’s broken at the top right hand corner and, over the years, lichen has grown over the joins to make it look like part of the rock wall. I recognise the style. It’s from the demolished house. Decades have stretched the rubble from Ashway House away from its original site and down the ravine making a stone pathway up to the forest.
A cherub. Lt’s is etched into the panel and stands out in relief, exactly the same shape as the paper doll left in Maisie’s bedroom. And what we thought were baby doll sketches in Tina’s flat. It’s about five feet tall and, from this angle, looks as if it is standing beside the rocks rather than part of them. Tina retrieves the phone and dials again.
‘This is it Glen. This is the last time you’ll speak to me, so look after her. I’ve done something stupid and I can’t get out of this one. Remember when we used to say we could endure anything? With Magellan? It’s not true. I’m deep in the shit and I can’t climb out this time. I don’t even know how I got here and I can’t face the consequences. I’ve really fucked up, Glen. And I…’
She’s almost hysterical now and she runs over to the storm drain and throws the phone in. The story has looped back to the beginning and I think I see a slight movement in the car, a tiny head above the dashboard. Then crying. Maisie.
Tina puts her hands over her ears.
‘The fucking headphones…’
The headphones were still attached to the phone when she threw it. She runs over the drain and leans over the rush of water, looking for the phone. The voice booms out the Red Shoes for the car CD player. Maisie cries and Lauren starts to shake behind me. Tina is screaming now.
‘Stop it. Stop it. Stop the fucking noise.’
I feel every muscle in my body tense as she moves toward the car. Lauren feels it too. I duck back behind the wall.
‘Ready?’
She looks afraid.
‘What are you going to do? You said you were just going to talk.’
‘I’m going to stop her. And get Maisie.’
Lauren peers around me at the car. Tina is gathering up everything and pushing it into the back of the car. She tries to wrench the heavy cherub away from the rock face but can’t budge it so she leaves it. I look at Lauren but she’s shaking her head.
‘I can’t Jan. My kids…’
So it’s down to me then. I watch as she walks around the car. The back doors are swinging open still and she quickly jumps into the driver’s seat. Quicker than I thought she would. The engine is turning over by the time I reach the car door. I pull it open but she’s released the handbrake. The car is rolling slowly down the ravine and towards the water. It’s gathering speed as it slides down the incline beside the storm drain.
I jump on the step of the car door and pull at Tina. She holds onto the steering wheel, screaming loudly. Maisie looks petrified and begins to scream too. In a split second I prise Tina’s hand away from the steering wheel and pull her past me. She’s still hanging onto my jacket, but can’t keep her grip and tumbles onto the hard ground beside the water.
I sit in the driver’s seat and my foot hits the brake just as the front wheels of the car hit the water. Every nerve in my body shudders as I pull on the handbrake and pray the incline is shallow enough to stop the car sliding into the water. I turn off the story and Maisie immediately stops crying and looks at me. Her face is dirty and her eyes red rimmed. She stares at me doe fully.
‘Want Mummy. Want Mummy.’
I gently unstrap her and hold her close. I know that a tiny movement could inch the car farther down the incline and into the water. I know that as soon as the water touched the pure sodium there will be a huge explosion. So I keep very, very still, except for taking my phone and calling Steve. The car creaks and makes a tiny movement as I dial. Maisie is very still against me as he answers. I speak very quietly.
‘Steve. I’m in the car with Maisie. I’m assuming that Lauren has apprehended Tina. Looking from the sailing club up the right hand side of the water we’re on the edge of Dovestones.’
‘Roger that. Lauren’s called. I’ve deployed the emergency services and bomb disposal. Sit tight Jan. We’re coming.’
I sit there holding Maisie and waiting. The supressed fear and having to drive again lets loose a demon and it invades my mind. I’m back in London, in my open top sports car. I’m driving up Upper Woburn Street towards Russell Square. I turn the radio up as Don Henley’s Boys of Summer comes on and I start to sing loudly. My shoulders are moving and my head bobbing as the song plays. It’s six months since Lando finished and somehow I’ve lulled myself into some kind of false sense of security where everything is right in the world again. I’m driving to my beautiful apartment where I’ll look out at my view across London. Sleep peacefully between freshly laundered sheets and feel safe behind my double bolted security door.
I’m singing and laughing and thinking about Chinese food so I hardly see the blue car hurtling toward me. I don’t see the face of the driver although later I think he was wearing sunglasses. But I do remember force of
the crash, the shock waves that jarred my head from side to side and my car moving sideways and hitting the railings at the junction outside Hotel Russell. The smell of whiskey, stronger as it seeps over my legs, the broken glass puncturing my skin slightly, just enough to sting. I do remember a searing pain in my head followed by numbness. I do remember the blue car backing away and driving off, and angry onlookers chasing it and shouting that the registration number was covered.
I remember everything blurred and a sense of ironic euphoria as I realised what had happened. That I would never be free again. That no matter what happens they’ll come after me. I remember my left hand straying to the seat beside me and then everything fading to grey, then to black.
Maisie stirs and I have the urge to rock her gently, but I daren’t move. I think she’s gone to sleep and wonder if she’s been awake all this time because of the constant noise. I can see the other side of the reservoir and operations are clearing the walkers and windsurfers. Tiny figures in the distance putting yellow tape at the end of footpaths. I turn my head slightly to the left and Steve is standing behind a cordon at a safe distance. He gives me a thumbs up. Steve. So quiet and clam and gets things done. We make a good team. Lauren’s beside him holding a cotton pad over her eyes. I guess Tina didn’t go quietly.
The car creeps forward a little and Maisie stirs in her sleep. I hear the water lapping around the wheels and look out of the open door. The incline into the reservoir is greasy and even a slight movement will move the car forward. Sitting here, finally being able to think about what happened in London; all of this makes me feel a strange calm. Of course I’m afraid but I can’t change anything now. This is where team effort really comes into play. Trust. Knowing that the people around you will do everything in their power to get you out.
What I Left Behind (The gripping prequel to the DS Jan Pearce Crime Fiction Series) Page 23
