No one is as fickle as the public, and the reason they’re that fickle is that the media tell them how to think and how to feel. Why else are talent shows packed full of sweeping emotional music edited just right to make you feel the pain and heartbreak when a hopeful doesn’t get through? Why else are shots of tearful audience members shown during a sad rendition of a song or a tragic backstory retelling? It’s all manufactured to make you buy things. Whether it’s a car or a lifestyle or a newspaper, you’re buying it because you’re buying the story and that is the truth of it all. When I lost my cool at that woman, I shattered the story she’d bought into. I made her reconsider what she thought was true.
But I didn’t resent people for buying into Aiden’s story. I didn’t begrudge them their sadness over his tragic life. What I hated was the idea that I had to be perfect and if I wasn’t perfect, then they weren’t sad for me anymore. I hated and resented that. I was in pain and I was allowed to snap or make mistakes or do whatever the hell I wanted. I was a human being, not a story, and the world forgot that.
As I passed that woman on the way to my GP’s office, I thought all of that and more. A heavy tiredness seeped into my bones, and I wondered when—or if—this would all be over and I could get into a normal life.
“Hi, Emma, how are you today? Hello, Aiden.” She didn’t miss a beat and I was glad for it. I’d had the same doctor since I was a baby—Dr Fiona Watson—and over that time she’d been a constant, albeit in a professional capacity. They hadn’t been friends, Mum and Fiona, but they’d respected each other, and Mum would have been pleased that Fiona had taken over the running of the surgery after she died.
“As well as to be expected.”
“I’m sorry for what you’ve been through, but it’s a pleasure to see Aiden again.” She smiled at Aiden but he didn’t react. Her eyes dropped, and I was glad she didn’t bring any of it up again.
After some poking and prodding Dr Watson sighed. “Your blood pressure is high. Now, you had some high blood pressure after Aiden… after the flood. I think it’s stress again. I’m going to prescribe you the same tablets you took back then. They’re safe for pregnant women to use. The little one been giving you any gip?”
“She’s a kicker,” I said. “But apart from that she seems fine.”
“Have you been to see your midwife recently? Have you got anything set up for the birth?”
“I had some blood taken a few months back and we discussed it then. This last week has been a whirlwind.”
She nodded. “You did the right thing coming to me.” She scribbled on a pad of paper and tore the top sheet away. “Try and get your feet up if you can. I know it’s hard given everything that’s happened, but it’s important. Is Jake looking after you?”
I smiled. “Yeah, of course he is. He’s been great.”
She nodded. “I’m really sorry about what’s happened. If…” she paused, and I could see she was struggling with the desire to maintain professionalism and seeing a person before her whom she had known for over thirty years. “If you need anything, I’m here.”
I thanked her and hurried out of the office, afraid I might begin to cry again. I was sick of crying.
When I left the surgery, the woman and her kids were gone. But when I reached my Focus in the carpark, there was a scratch running all along the length of the car.
22
I held off from driving like a maniac on the way to the pharmacy, even though the adrenaline running through my veins begged for speed. I’d never been a careless driver, but when my stress levels were high, I wanted nothing more than to put my foot down on the accelerator and drive as far and as fast as I could. But I wouldn’t do that with Aiden in the car.
As I made my way down the steepest hill in Bishoptown, I glanced in the rear-view mirror and noticed a black transit van behind me. After turning right to drive over the bridge, I checked again and there it was—the same black transit van. Even when I turned left onto the main shopping street in the village the van was there. I frowned and wondered whether it was a reporter. Bishoptown was a small place so it was just as reasonable that it could be someone following the same route through the village.
When I parked up outside the pharmacy, the black van slowed down for a heartbeat before continuing on down the street. My suspicions were raised, but it could be just as possible that the driver had been looking for a parking space and hadn’t found anything.
“Wait for me to get out first,” I said to Aiden as I checked for oncoming traffic. I was still spooked from the van, but also, Aiden’s confinement had resulted in him missing out on the kind of ‘street smarts’ that most sixteen-year-old boys would possess. I didn’t feel comfortable even allowing him to get out of the car onto the pavement without me there. Not yet.
Aiden was silent as I exited the car and hurried around to his side. He opened the door himself and I took his hand to lead him down the street. With my free hand, I clutched my cardigan more tightly around me. It was a cool day, but the heavy knitwear and the anger coursing through my body made me feel sweaty and unkempt. My heart was still pounding from the unfortunate incident with the woman at the doctor’s office, and from the strange van following me along the street. I almost walked past the pharmacy, I was so distracted. I couldn’t stop my eyes roaming the faces of those walking around the village. No doubt they were tourists, but I couldn’t stop thinking about who had taken Aiden. What if Aiden had already been face-to-face with his attacker but hadn’t been able to tell me? What if the kidnapper came back and took him again?
The pharmacy was like every other shop in Bishoptown, in a small, limestone terraced building that looked more like a house than a business. Most of the shops had quaint hanging-baskets of busy-lizzies and marigolds, but the pharmacy had only one window and a wooden door with a bell.
As I was paying for the prescription, the bell on the door jingled, indicating someone else had walked in. Eager to leave, I hurried to put the change from my purchase into my wallet so I could get out of the small shop.
“Emma?”
High on adrenaline, I spun around too fast, almost knocking into Aiden. “Oh, hi, Amy. Didn’t expect to see you here.” It was a Tuesday. Teachers never had time off in the week. “How are…” I trailed off. Amy wasn’t listening to me at all, she was staring transfixed at my son.
“It’s break time,” she mumbled. “I came to pick up my prescription.” She didn’t even look at me once. She was staring at my son in such an intense manner that I almost pulled him back towards me and away from her. “Aiden, oh my… oh my God, it’s really you.” She took a step forward with her hand outstretched, but he ducked away from her, moving behind me. Amy’s eyes raised to meet mine and she blinked away a few tears before composing herself. “I didn’t… I mean, I heard what happened on the news and I wanted to call you but…”
My spine straightened. This was the woman whose negligence had led to my child being stolen from me. No wonder Aiden was cowering behind me. “It wouldn’t have been appropriate, Amy.” My fingers tingled. After all these years I thought I’d forgiven her, but I was wrong. I’d only managed to push those feelings aside in favour of getting on with my life. Now that Aiden had come back, those old feelings had resurfaced. Perhaps it was the unfortunate incident with the woman in the surgery, or perhaps it was the strange black van following me around the village, but I was in no mood to coddle the woman who had turned her back and allowed my son to disappear from school.
Her face fell. “You’re right. Sorry. I’m so stupid. I’m just so… I’m so glad Aiden is alive. I mean, I know he’s been through…”
“Hell,” I finished for her. “He’s been through hell.” As I stood there on the street looking at Amy, our years of working together melted away, leaving only my bitterness for the woman. I forgot all about the doll she’d bought for my unborn child, and the friendship we’d tentatively garnered over the last few years. I’d been desperate for someone to blame and suddenly he
re she was.
“I’m so sorry, Emma,” she said. From the red flush working up her neck, and the way her bottom lip trembled I could tell she was about to cry.
I turned away. “I should go.”
“Wait,” she said. “I don’t want… Emma, we’ve been friends for a long time now. I thought we’d got past what happened.”
I shook my head. “Everything is different now. I grieved for him and I let him go; that was the only way I could look past what you did. But now he’s here and he’s in pain and I can’t help but…” I paused. For the first time I really looked at her. Why was she so emotional? Why was there a single tear running down her cheek? It all seemed… contrived. How could I trust anything she said?
I pulled Aiden away, hurrying to my car. Thinking back to the reports and eyewitnesses on the day of Aiden’s disappearance, I wondered if there was anything inconsistent about Amy. I remembered that, after she’d noticed Aiden was missing, she had asked another teacher to take care of the class while she’d gone looking for Aiden herself. She was on her own for a number of minutes. What if…? I opened the car door and let Aiden inside. DCI Stevenson had admitted that the kidnapper didn’t have to be a man, though it was most likely that it was a man. I put the key into the ignition. Aiden would do something if he was face-to-face with his attacker. Wouldn’t he? He’d recognise them.
So why was I suspecting everyone? Why was I suddenly believing that Amy, a petite and shy woman, could have stolen my son away and kept him locked up? Because I was beginning to believe that people were capable of anything. People are multi-layered. Anyone can have a private side that verges on the dark and dangerous. Your doctor could be a sadist. Your primary school teacher could be a paedophile. Your beauty therapist could be a murderer. It could be anything.
I watched Aiden put on his seatbelt and wondered if he remembered anything from his time as a captive. He was frightened of Rough Valley Forest, that much I knew, and I understood. But would he remember his kidnapper, and how would he act if he came face-to-face with them?
As I pulled quickly out of the parking space, a black Renault Clio had to brake suddenly to avoid my car. I fumbled with the gear stick and waved sheepishly as the driver of the Clio honked his horn at me. My fingers trembled as I guided the car out of the space and onto the main street.
“Shall we listen to the radio?” I said, too brightly.
Aiden didn’t respond. He gazed straight ahead in that same uninterested way. I clicked on the radio and tried to stop myself wondering what was in his mind. All the knowledge was there but he refused to let it out. That was when I realised I was angry with him. I couldn’t help it. I was angry with Aiden for not communicating with me. And I was suspicious. I was suspicious of everything.
“Why don’t you talk?” I said, banging the steering wheel. “Why won’t you tell me?”
I ran a red light. If Jake had been there he would have forced me to pull over and driven the rest of the way home. He would have hated to see me in this state. But he wasn’t there. It was only Aiden, who didn’t seem perturbed by my unhinged state in the least. All he did was stare out through the windscreen—staring and thinking and not reacting to anything around him. Maybe Jake was right. Maybe he was a vegetable.
No, I wouldn’t believe it. A vegetable doesn’t paint. A vegetable doesn’t acknowledge my words. There was the time he nodded at me, and the time where I thought I heard him singing—unless it had been a figment of my imagination…
As the streets faded one into another I took deep breaths and eased my foot off the accelerator. The paper bag from the pharmacy sat on Aiden’s lap. My heart was pounding all the way home. When I checked the rearview mirror, the black transit van was back. I pulled in to my drive and swore. Even more reporters were clustered all around the house.
The transit van stopped a little way down the street. I was right—they’d been following me around as I went about my day-to-day chores, hanging around in a transit van like the mob following a target.
The front door burst open and Denise stepped out. She rushed over to the door and opened Aiden’s side, as a swarm of people with cameras and microphones gathered around us.
“What’s going on?” I shouted. “How did you get in the house?”
“Jake let me in earlier.”
“Where is he now?” I asked.
“We need to get inside. There’s been a development,” she whispered.
“It must be a big one.”
She nodded. “It is.”
“Aiden, what’s it like being in the real world? Aiden, do you still have an attachment to your kidnapper?” yelled a reporter.
I turned away from Denise and Aiden, stepped down the path towards the reporters at the end of the drive, and clenched both of my fists. I was hot all over despite the chill in the air. “Fuck off and leave us alone! This is fucking private property and you’re trespassing. I mean it. Leave us alone. LEAVE US ALONE!”
I was shaking as Denise wrapped an arm around my shoulder and guided me back up the path to the door.
23
“I’m putting the kettle on,” said Denise. “Why don’t you sit down for a minute and try to calm down.”
I was pacing the length of the kitchen, rubbing my belly in circular motions. It was less than two weeks to my due date and I was supposed to be nesting, not yelling at reporters. I was supposed to be making the house pretty, buying pink booties and hanging a mobile above the crib like a pregnancy montage in an 80s romantic comedy.
“What’s happened? Why are the reporters like rabid dogs again?”
“Sit down for a moment, Emma.” Denise flicked the switch to turn the kettle on.
In the interest of getting the information faster, I sank my backside down onto a dining chair. Then I opened my hands and shrugged to prompt her to continue.
“The police have asked Jake to go to the station for questioning.”
“What?” I could feel my blood pressure rising. “Why?”
She spoke slowly, in the same way I’d seen teachers talking to agitated students. “I don’t know all the details. I think they want to go over Jake’s statement for the day Aiden went missing.”
“It can’t be Jake. Aiden has lived here with him for days now. Don’t you think Aiden would have reacted? It can’t be. I know him. He’s my husband. This is his baby. Anyway, how would Jake have had the time to keep a boy locked away for ten years?”
“Now, I’m not saying that it is Jake. I’m not saying that at all. But, wives have been lied to in the past and husbands have found ways to conduct all kinds of heinous and time-consuming activities.” She poured water into two mugs. “But I’m not saying that Jake did it, okay? All I know is that he’s been asked to answer a few questions to help the investigation. It could be nothing.”
“Fat lot of good you are.” My brain-to-mouth filter had stopped working due to the intense stress of the day. “If you can’t even tell me why they’re questioning Jake.”
Denise was very quiet as she stirred the milk into the tea.
“Or maybe you won’t tell me. That’s more likely.”
“My job is to aid you through this difficult process. Doing that is my priority, which is why my colleagues might feel it necessary to hold back information at times like this. I’m here to help, okay? I know this is hard. Now, have a cuppa and try to relax. You have the baby to think about.”
“Oh yes, I forgot I’m a walking incubator,” I snapped as I took the tea from her. Then I shrugged and sighed. “Sorry. Difficult day. I’m getting fed up with everyone expecting me to put the baby first. I am, of course, but I matter too, you know.”
“Of course you do. Sorry, I didn’t mean to imply that you didn’t.”
I smiled thinly. “You probably didn’t. I’m just sensitive.”
“I’m not surprised. You’re a strong woman to be getting through all this. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.”
“I screamed at those reporters.”<
br />
She sipped her tea and chuckled. “They’ve heard worse.”
“Oh God, poor Jake. Alone at the station. I should go, but I can’t take Aiden there. Not with all those reporters out there.” I chewed on my bottom lip and wondered whether I could send someone else to meet him. We had a solicitor, but maybe that would send the wrong signal. I could ask Sonya or Josie, but Jake had never been as close with Josie as I had, and Sonya was Rob’s mother so that could be uncomfortable. Jake didn’t really have any male friends. He hadn’t even bothered with a stag do before the wedding. “Can you call and ask how long he’ll be there for? Can I talk to him over the phone?”
Before Denise could answer, my mobile phone started to ring. I dug it out of the bottom of my bag and frowned in disappointment. I had been hoping it would be Jake calling from the police station but it was Rob.
“Hi.”
“Emma, I heard they took Jake in for questioning. What’s going on?” he said.
“They just want to ask him some more questions about the day Aiden was taken. It’s nothing, Rob. I mean, they’ve had you in for questioning too. They’ve had half the town in.”
“No, this is different.” I heard him moving around as he spoke. There was a breathlessness to his voice, as though he couldn’t stand still. I imagined his energy seeping out in nervous tics. I could see him pacing in my mind’s eye. “The press has caught onto this like it’s a big deal. They’ve not done this before.”
“They’ll latch onto anything, Rob,” I argued.
There was a pause.
“You don’t really believe that Jake took Aiden, do you? And then fooled me for ten years. How would he do that, Rob? How? How would he have my son locked away all these years while romancing me and marrying me and getting me pregnant? Don’t you think I would know?”
Silent Child Page 14
