Hey You, Pretty Face

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Hey You, Pretty Face Page 5

by Linda Coles


  “Thanks, Roy. He would appreciate it. I didn’t want to take advantage of your generosity; otherwise, you’d have a shop full of homeless people queuing up.”

  “I can’t feed everyone, but I can look out for you, I’m sure. Which reminds me – I’ve some extra blankets for you. I had a clear-out so they’re yours if you want them.”

  “Thanks. They’ll come in handy.”

  Roy sat down for a moment, and it was plain to see he had something on his mind. He spoke in a low voice, though there was no one else in the café to overhear anyway.

  “Listen, Chloe. I couldn’t help but notice you’ve lost weight – quite a lot, actually. Only there was a story on the news a couple of nights ago saying a baby had been found abandoned on the steps of a church. I wondered if perhaps you’ve been pregnant and it was yours?”

  Chloe dropped her head, unable to meet Roy’s eyes. Should she tell him the truth? Could she trust him with such a secret, a man she’d only known for a handful of weeks?

  He tried again. “It’s okay if it was. The baby is safe and well, by the way. I saw it on the news. Only I thought you might need some medical attention too.”

  “I’m fine!” It came out too fast and too loud. Shit. She’d given the game away. “Now look what you’ve made me do!” She stood in a hurry, slopping tea over the tabletop. “You can’t tell anyone – promise me, Roy!”

  “Your secret is safe with me, Chloe, but let me take you to a health clinic. They don’t have to know who you are, but they can check you out. You don’t want an infection, now, do you? There are places you can get help. Just to be sure.”

  She sat back down, a sulk on her young face, a face that was trying to be more grown-up than she felt at that moment.

  Barely audible, she said, “I’m fine, Roy, really I am. But thanks. I can’t risk this coming out, that it was me. I didn’t do it lightly, you know.” Tears started to fall; Chloe was powerless to stop them.

  “I can’t imagine how hard it must have been,” Roy said gently, “but it was probably for the best until you get on your feet. Are you still in touch with the father? Does he know?”

  “No, I’m not, and I don’t want to talk about it!” Chloe snapped. She wasn’t about to answer questions about who the father was; it was too painful to think about. And she didn’t know anyway.

  Roy backed off and was quiet. After a moment, he took her hand in his. She snatched it away and wrung both hands together in her lap, the tears still streaming down her face.

  “Sorry, Chloe,” said Roy, abashed. “I’m sorry for bringing it all up and upsetting you.” He changed the subject. “Look, why don’t I grab the blankets and drop them at the end of your road by the bus stop. Perhaps you and Billy could pick them up from there in, say, two hours? Then you don’t have to carry them all the way. And while I grab them, take a hot pie for each of you. I’ll be closing soon anyway, and they’ll only go in the bin.”

  Chloe knew they wouldn’t have; Roy would have them for his evening meal later. But since he was offering. . . She nodded.

  It was warming to know that someone cared about her, even if they were almost a stranger. She’d take that.

  Chapter Fifteen

  “Your friend Roy must be a good sort. These extra blankets are magic while it’s this cold,” said Billy, as he and Chloe sat huddled in their makeshift home together under the new blankets. The two of them had made their hot pies last, relishing the warm tasty gravy as they chatted, a torch between them for lighting. It was far from ideal, but compared to what some others had who slept rough, it was deluxe accommodation.

  “He is, isn’t he? I expect he gets a bit lonely all on his own, has time to help others that drift by, like me. He reminds me a bit of Roy Cropper off Corry. My mum used to watch it. He’s a gentle soul, too.” Chloe licked the last of the gravy off her fingers, wishing she had another pie to follow, but there was only a sliced loaf on offer. It would have to do. “Want a piece of bread?”

  “No, I’ll save mine for breakfast, thanks. Which reminds me, how much money have you got left? Enough for food tomorrow?”

  Chloe wrestled her purse out from under the blankets and Billy opened his wallet. They pooled all the money they had between them on the candlewick spread that, in its day, had probably been a pretty shade of pink. Chloe wondered why Roy might have had a pink bedspread at one stage; it wasn’t exactly a single man’s colour. Maybe he’d married at one time, or had had a woman friend. She busied herself counting the coins and the couple of notes.

  “We have a grand total of thirty-six pounds and forty-two pence, so we can eat for a few more days if we keep it frugal, but that bit will soon run out. I think I should start begging again tomorrow – what do you think? I hate nicking stuff. It’s not right.”

  “Nicking is quicker, though. It’s too cold for you to sit out begging, and the shoppers that are out have their minds on present lists, not people like you and me. Meagre offerings at this time of year.” The thought of Christmas made him smile. “What wouldn’t you do for a place at a Christmas feast? All those hot roast potatoes, chicken legs and lashings of gravy. What heaven, eh?”

  Chloe had to admit it sounded good. “There will be a dinner somewhere though, won’t there? I mean at the soup kitchen? Or one of the shelters?”

  “Yeah, there will be, and we’ll queue up like the rest and enjoy it, but it won’t be a patch on what my old gran used to make. She made the best roast spuds this side of Watford.”

  “Well, I’m going to find myself a dry doorway tomorrow and make myself comfy and see what we can get,” Chloe went on. “If we can get twenty pounds, that will give us a buffer; then we can buy some toothpaste and a brush. My mouth tastes disgusting most of the time, plus a shower wouldn’t go amiss either. I’m going to the shelter tomorrow, see if they’ll let me in and get clean.”

  “I’d go in the morning rather than when it’s dark again – far safer. Be good to have a mobile shower unit, eh? One that parks at the end of our street?” Billy was back to dreaming. He’d been on the street way too long.

  “Billy, you really live in a land of hope, don’t you?” she chided him. She finished the last of her slice of bread then gathered their bit of money back into their purses. They never stored all the money in the same place. Personal robberies were too common and they couldn’t risk someone else getting their hands on it all. It was their bit of lifeline and all they had.

  “You seemed a bit upset when you came back from Roy’s,” said Billy. “Did something happen?” Billy had wanted to broach the subject earlier but decided it was best to give her the space he’d quickly learned she needed. Now seemed like a better time: she had food in her stomach and they were both relaxing in relative warmth. In the low light of the torch, he noticed her drop her head at the mention of meeting Roy. Gently he prodded her again. “A problem shared and all…?”

  Taking a deep breath, she said, “Roy knows about my baby. He put my sudden weight loss and the abandoned baby in the news together and asked me, and I gave the game away like a fool. Now someone else knows,” she said despondently, but what was done was done. “He said he won’t tell anyone, but he wanted me to get checked out somewhere. Well, it’ll be obvious the baby was mine. I bet they don’t have too many getting checked after giving birth that don’t go through the regular channels. Someone’s bound to be suspicious.”

  “Surely they won’t tell if you ask them not to? Privacy and all – doesn’t that count?”

  “Maybe abandoning your baby is an offence. I don’t know. I never looked it up. Remember, Billy, I stupidly ignored what was going on, hoping it would go away, and it didn’t. I had to give birth that day, ready or not, and I knew I couldn’t keep her, so I did what I had to. Whoever takes her home from the hospital will do a whole lot better than I could in this mess, and I’m not going to prison for wanting better for my girl. It’s not like her dad could have taken over.”

  Billy’s ears pricked up at the mention of
the baby’s dad. It was the first time she’d mentioned him. When she didn’t elaborate, he left it be.

  Chloe was quiet for a moment, then said, “I wonder how she’s doing, what they’ve called her.”

  Placing a comforting arm around her shoulder, Billy leaned in and said, “This close to Christmas, I expect they’ve called her Mary.”

  “Mary.” She tried the name out. It was appropriate, and she hoped someone was looking over her, keeping her safe, giving a better life than her own had been. “I like that. Mary. At least I can refer to her with a name now.”

  Billy squeezed her shoulder gently. If Mary gave Chloe comfort, then that was a good thing.

  Chapter Sixteen

  It was every officer’s nightmare when children went missing, mainly because they knew the statistics on a child ending up safe and well. If they hadn’t wandered home of their own accord within the first few hours, it meant something more sinister was at play. In the case of Leanne Meadows, it seemed to Jack and Eddie that they were looking at possible abduction. The skid marks at the side of the road strongly suggested that something had gone wrong while she’d been changing her flat. The fact that Kate Bryers had also gone missing at around the same time and from the same location pointed to a connection between the two cases.

  Eddie and Jack were on their way back from interviewing some of Kate’s friends in their homes; all the children were home for Christmas holidays now, meaning they couldn’t simply interview them as a group in the school gymnasium as was usually done. Unfortunately, nothing helpful had come out of any of the conversations, only tears and distress for their missing friend.

  “Why was someone so young even out in the lane at night in the dark?” asked Jack. “There are no street lamps along there. Couldn’t her parents have taken the damn dog for a pee themselves?”

  “It was all part of her responsibility, one of her chores. No different to other kids, I suppose, but with hindsight, it seems a bit risky. But then no one ever expects their child to be abducted, and that’s what we’re saying has happened,” Eddie said.

  “Do you think they’re together?”

  “Probably, though I’m still thinking Leanne was in the wrong place at the wrong time, what with the puncture and all. I only hope that if they are being kept together, they are able to comfort one another until we can find them. Wherever they are. I must admit, we have zip to work with; no one has seen a thing.” Eddie looked as despondent as he sounded as they turned into the station yard.

  “Do you think it’s sex-related, that paedophiles have taken them?” Jack asked.

  “Had it only been Kate missing, I’d say it could be, though there is no direct evidence to that effect. But Leanne would be too old, wouldn’t she?”

  “Depends on the customer’s taste, I suppose. It’s a dark world behind some folks’ closed doors. Human trafficking doesn’t discriminate, and includes all age groups, not only children. But I agree: on the surface, we’ve said she was in the wrong place, not the target. When will forensics have something? There must be at least a tyre track to work with, or a cigarette butt.”

  “I’m hoping for something later today. I’ve tried to push a favour through.” Eddie turned and smiled at Jack. Jack grinned back. He knew how Eddie worked, particularly with one of the women who worked in the labs.

  “Oh? What have you promised her this time?”

  “A curry out at that new place on the high street.”

  “Don’t suppose you want me to come along for a threesome?” Jack was only teasing. His ideal night was a curry in front of the TV with Janine.

  “Bugger off. No way!”

  Eddie shut off the engine and he and Jack jumped out and hurried towards the back entrance where a uniformed officer was braving the cold and finishing his cigarette on his break. Ice-cold rain had been pelting down all morning and showed little sign of stopping. The sky was heavy and leaden grey. It was no weather to be outside in, thought Jack as he brushed rain droplets of his coat.

  “Coffee to warm up, then I’ll give the lab a buzz, see if I can’t work my charm,” said Eddie. As they walked through to the squad room and the coffee cupboard, Jack heard his name being called from behind. He turned to see Clarke about to catch him up.

  “What’s up, Clarke?”

  “You had a call from the DNA lab. Apparently, you were asking them about a new DNA test? Here’s the number to call to speak to someone directly. You need to ask for Barbara Winstanley. She’s the scientist working with it, fam something or other. No doubt she’ll explain it.” Jack took the yellow Post-It Note and looked at it before grunting his thanks and following Eddie into the cupboard. The kettle was coming to the boil.

  “What’s all that about?” Eddie asked.

  “Ah, it may be nothing, but I thought I’d give it a go. It’s for the abandoned baby case. I’ll let you know if it comes to anything.”

  “Not a lot to do there, is there? The baby will go to a foster home and be adopted, right?”

  “Yeah, but it would be nice to find a parent for the little mite, don’t you think?”

  “And how are we going to do that?”

  “Well, nothing came up from the report on the evening news, but there is a DNA test that I’m looking into. Hence this message.” Jack flashed the yellow note. “I’ll let you know what comes of it.”

  “Don’t go wasting your time, Jack. We’ve two missing children out there. Baby is safe for now, probably better off where she is than with the woman that dumped her. Now, am I pouring you a coffee or not?”

  Jack knew when he was being silenced on a subject and nodded for coffee. But there was no way he was going to forget the little one. If he could find a way to figure it out, he’d do it in his own time if need be. He knew from experience that when an officer discovered a baby abandoned, it stayed with them most of their lives; they were always wondering. And while he wasn’t the one who had handed her in, he had been the one on duty that day and had gone to the hospital and seen the tiny bundle with his own eyes. That made him her tenuous guardian in his mind, and he’d do what he could. Taking the steaming mug back to his desk, he picked up the phone and dialled the number, hoping Barbara Winstanley was available to talk.

  He was glad he’d called her.

  Chapter Seventeen

  What Dr Winstanley had told him had given Jack hope, though that hope was balancing precariously on a seesaw of protocol and data. Still, there was a chance. Thanks to science so new it wasn’t even officially available yet, it seemed there was a possibility of finding out who the baby’s parents were. While Jack knew the baby’s mother would have her own reasons for abandoning her infant, he also knew she might want to make contact with the child in the months or years ahead. He also knew that the child herself might want to find out who her natural parents were when she was old enough.

  There was a small gift shop in the lobby of the hospital, offering helium balloons, small bouquets of cheap carnations and chrysanthemums in plastic funnels filled with water, and an array of greeting cards spinning on a swivel stand. Jack considered taking the baby a balloon, but “Congratulations!” seemed inappropriate for a small being that had been wrapped in an old coat and left to fend for itself alone. He picked up a small pink stuffed rabbit and went to pay the cashier.

  “Congratulations. Your first?” she enquired.

  Her assumption flummoxed him for a moment, and then he replied simply, “She’s not mine, actually.”

  “Shivers, I’m so sorry. I just assumed…”

  “I know. Don’t worry.” He smiled briefly to show there were no hard feelings and took his change along with the rabbit, heading to the maternity floor and the special care baby unit.

  He was heartened to see the ward sister, Monica, was on duty as he buzzed for entry. She waved as she walked towards him. With a click of the door, he slipped inside.

  “Hello again, Detective. Have you some news for us? I’m assuming your visit is about the baby that was f
ound?”

  Jack fiddled with the rabbit in his hands then remembered he needed to hand it over. “I thought I’d drop by and see how’s she doing, bring her this.” He proffered the pink toy and Monica took it from him, petting its head lightly as she did so. “But as for news, we have nothing yet, I’m afraid. You probably saw the news?”

  “Yes, we all did. Sad, isn’t it? Though she’s quite well enough to go on to a foster home now, no damage done. She’s only in here because of the circumstances and the need for extra security. Social services will be taking her later today, in fact.”

  “May I see her, please?” Jack wasn’t entirely sure why he wanted to, but something was pulling at his conscience. “Does she have a name?”

  “Of course you may, and yes, we figured since it’s almost Christmas, the staff chose something appropriate – we’ve called her Mary. It seemed apt.”

  “Mary. That’s nice. And yes, festive too.” He followed Monica over to a cot at the end, where a little bundle wrapped in pink lay alone. She gurgled in her sleep, looking warm and healthy like any other newborn baby with a full tummy in a warm, safe place. A bubble broke from her tiny mouth and another formed behind it. Her left leg kicked up and down on the small mattress. Jack’s heart ached for a moment as he watched.

  “Hello, Mary. I’m Jack,” he said gently, waving a couple of his fingers at her. Welcome to the human race …. “I’ve brought you a bunny.” Monica handed it back to him and he tucked it at the corner of Mary’s cot so she’d see it when she woke up. More bubbles came and went as he watched over her, but he said nothing more, content to be in her company for a while.

  “I’ll leave you for a moment. I must get on. Come and see me before you leave if you would,” said Monica. Then she was gone.

  Jack pulled up a chair and sat by Mary’s cot, just watching her. Janine and he couldn’t have children, though they had wanted them. Janine had been devastated when the news had come that the problem had been with her, but they’d got through the rough days and the tears, had both pulled through in the end.

 

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