No Child of Mine

by Susan Lewis

  ‘Sorry, but it’s a madhouse out there,’ she explained to a startled Tommy, and going back to her call, ‘OK, I’m here. So let me get this straight, you haven’t been able to find a record of anyone called Jill McCarthy – either with a J or a G, or the various spellings of the surname?’

  ‘Nothing in our records,’ Scott Danes confirmed, ‘but as I was saying just now, you should try your own people up here, or the local health authority. They’re more likely to have records of paranoid schizophrenics than we are, unless a crime’s been committed, of course.’

  ‘Actually, I’ve already spoken to them,’ she assured him. ‘I just wanted to know if she was showing up for you in any way, and obviously she isn’t, but thanks for checking.’

  ‘Any time. Is that all for now?’

  ‘I think so, unless you can help me with Erica Wade’s medical records, but I’m already on to her old GP about that, Andy Miller. Do you know him? Hang on, I’ve got his address somewhere.’

  ‘It’s OK, I know him and he’s a pretty regular sort of chap, but if you have any problem accessing what you need give me a call and I’ll go round and have a chat.’

  ‘You’re brilliant, thanks so much. I’ll be in touch.’ As she rang off, she said to Tommy, ‘Are you following any of this?’

  ‘Better refresh me,’ he told her.

  ‘Well, it seems that the woman who hassled, or harassed Brian Wade after his son’s death, you know, calling him a child-killer and all that, isn’t showing up on anyone’s records. Even the headmaster up there – Derek Tolland – admits he never actually spoke to her himself, or clapped eyes on her.’

  Tommy nodded his interest. ‘So what are we deducing from this?’ he enquired.

  ‘That it’s a lie?’ she suggested. ‘I mean, someone who’s been diagnosed a paranoid schizophrenic has to be registered somewhere, and apparently this woman isn’t.’

  ‘Maybe it’s not her real name – or the diagnosis was more layman observation than a specialist’s findings.’

  Alex deflated. ‘Actually, I’d thought of that, but it was so unhelpful I decided to overlook it.’

  ‘Sorry,’ Tommy murmured. ‘So how’s the rest of it going?’

  Alex pushed her hands through her hair. ‘Let me see. OK, there’s now a health visitor on the case, Vicky Barnes, which is great. She went round yesterday, and when we spoke later she said that on the face of it Ottilie’s in good physical shape. A few old bruises apparently, but she wasn’t particularly concerned about them, thought they’d come from a fall or walking into furniture, the way kids do. But there was a nasty burn on her hand which definitely wasn’t there when I visited on Wednesday.’

  Tommy was frowning. ‘And how did she come by this burn?’

  ‘Apparently she’d tried to heat up some milk for her teddy bear.’

  Tommy looked as dubious as Alex felt; however, having no way of knowing exactly how Ottilie had come by the injury, they had no choice but to accept the explanation – for now.

  ‘The health visitor’s gone ahead and set-up an appointment with the community paediatrician for the twenty-ninth of this month,’ Alex continued. ‘Apparently the father’s going to take her, but he was quite shirty about having to arrange for more time off work.’

  ‘What’s the matter with the mother taking her?’

  ‘I don’t think she ever goes out, though she told me she’d take Ottilie to nursery on Monday. I guess we’ll have to wait and see if she means it when Monday comes.’

  ‘Mm. This mother really is a bit of a problem, isn’t she? What kind of background have you got on her?’

  Alex pulled a face. ‘I’m still working on it,’ she confessed. ‘But so far, until their son died she was a part-time private music teacher – piano, I’m told, but there’s no piano in the house now. Unless it’s upstairs in a bedroom. I’ve only seen Ottilie’s room – if I’d tried looking in any of the others Brian Wade would have had a blue fit. He’s a very private man, you understand.’

  Tommy’s expression was wry. ‘I often wonder what private people have to be so private about, don’t you?’

  ‘I do indeed, and in his case I’ve got absolutely no doubt that there’s something. Question is, how do we unearth it?’ She shook her head in frustration. ‘This is turning into one of those situations when I feel more like a detective than a flaming social worker.’

  ‘If we had anything like the same powers as a detective we’d probably get somewhere a lot faster, and save a lot more kids from harm, but don’t get me started on that or I’ll go on all day. So, we still don’t know enough about Mrs Wade, apart from the fact that she used to teach music and is a bit of a ... How would you describe it?’

  ‘Weirdo, space cadet, call it what you like. I keep trying to work out what’s going on with her. Obviously I’ve recommended a mental health check, but it’s looking as though I might have to force that through, because Mr Wade’s not coming across as very keen.’

  Tommy raised an eyebrow. ‘So what’s your next move?’

  ‘I carry on making phone calls trying to piece together what happened when the son died – I’m waiting for more calls back on that, and the family’s old GP said he’d ring between four and five today.’

  Tommy nodded his approval. ‘OK, sounds good. Incidentally, I haven’t heard anything from Mr Wade about your assessment yet, but I guess it’s still early days. Now, tell me what’s really going on with you, because I can see from the way you look ...’

  ‘Actually,’ she cut in quickly before he could get into anything personal, ‘I wanted to talk to you about Shane Prince. I think he might be calling me and not leaving messages. You know, a kind of intimidation thing. I haven’t been able to check with 1471 yet, but we know he’s got my home number so I thought I should mention it.’

  ‘You did right, and don’t you worry, pet, if it is him I’ll make sure he understands it’ll be better for him if he forgets your number.’

  Alex gave him a mocking look. ‘Just like that?’ she teased. ‘Shane, you stop pestering Alex Lake or you’re going to find yourself in big trouble. He’ll be so scared.’

  Tommy cocked an eyebrow. ‘He’s got no reason to be coming after you now, remember that, not that he had in the first place ...’

  ‘But don’t you know, he’s cast me as the ugly face of social services?’

  ‘Which just goes to show what a dickhead he is. And if it’s an ugly face he wants, wait till he sees mine.’

  ‘But you’re gorgeous,’ Alex protested with a laugh. ‘So when are you planning to go over there?’

  ‘Actually, I went yesterday but there was no one at home, so I’ll try again Monday. If I don’t clap eyes on the girl then I’ll be going in on Tuesday with an EPO and we can imagine how much they’ll enjoy that, especially if the police have to bash the door down.’

  Alex shuddered. ‘Just as long as he doesn’t hold me responsible, because I so don’t need him on my case right now.’

  Tommy’s eyes immediately narrowed with concern.

  ‘Don’t,’ she warned softly. ‘The last thing I need is someone being nice to me.’

  ‘Oh, right, then get the hell out of here ...’

  ‘Alex!’ Saffy shouted. ‘Call for you. Sounds urgent.’

  ‘On my way,’ Alex called back, and going to take the phone she sank into her chair and listened in dismay to what the manager of a residential unit was telling her. Apparently one of her teenagers had absconded from the unit, taking an eleven-year-old girl with him. The police had been called, but the manager was insisting that Alex should come over to help sort things out.

  After assuring him she was on her way, she was about to ring to cancel her visit to a family in Camberside when a peevish voice said, ‘I know what your game is, so don’t think I don’t. We can all see straight through you, you know.’

  Stunned, as much by the tone as the words, Alex looked up and didn’t even bother to hide her dislike when she found Ben’s long, bony f
ace quivering over her. ‘Exactly what’s your problem?’ she demanded, starting to pack up her bag.

  Ben’s hands were on his snaky little hips. ‘Oh, let’s make out like we don’t know,’ he retorted, playing to the gallery. ‘I mean, we’re not blowing this whole Ottilie Wade thing up into a drama to try to make someone else look bad, are we?’

  Aware of the others watching, Alex decided to ignore him and grabbed her coat.

  ‘I spoke to her father – the deputy headmaster of Kesterly Rise – after both anonymous calls,’ Ben told her waspishly. ‘Someone’s obviously trying to make mischief for him – probably the same someone who started harassing him after his son died ...’

  ‘Ben, I really don’t have time for this,’ she interrupted, trying to push past him.

  ‘There’s nothing wrong with that girl,’ he hissed. ‘You’re only doing this to try to paint me in a bad light for not following up ...’

  Alex swung round, eyes blazing. ‘This is not about you,’ she spat furiously. ‘It’s about a child who doesn’t speak and a mother who’s clearly a basket case, which you would know if you’d bothered ...’

  ‘Alex, I need to speak to you.’ It was Wendy, standing at the door with a stack of files in her arms.

  ‘Sorry, I can’t right now,’ Alex told her, hefting her bag on to her shoulder.

  ‘She’s too busy being a saint,’ Ben snorted nastily.

  ‘Oh grow up,’ Alex shot back.

  ‘Alex,’ Wendy said firmly, ‘before you go anywhere I need these forms completed.’

  Alex was in no mood for Wendy’s pettiness. Grabbing a black marker she scribbled where she was going on the board, then turning to Wendy she said, ‘As you can see I have a bit of a crisis on my hands, so your forms will have to wait. And Ben, just fuck off!’

  As the door banged shut behind her she heard Lizzy shout, ‘Go girl!’

  Though it afforded her a fleeting smile she was still shaking with anger as she ran down the stairs. It was rare for her to lose her temper in the office, rarer still for her to swear like that, but for God’s sake! What was the matter with everyone? Ben was in serious danger of getting lost in his own ego, the way he was carrying on. How could he possibly think she’d only followed up on Ottilie’s case to try and get the better of him? As if! She hadn’t even thought about him since taking it on – and anyway, the hell was she going to get into defending herself when there was absolutely no doubt in her mind that something was very wrong in that family.

  And she sure as hell wasn’t going to prioritise filling in some stupid bloody forms for Wendy either.

  Chapter Fourteen

  THE PAST WEEKEND had turned into one that Alex would rather forget than ever have to live through again. She’d tried hard not to be hurt that Gabby hadn’t made it to the show, and done her level best to keep her true feelings hidden when it had come out, as it had to, just before the dress run on Saturday, that she and Jason were no longer together. Much as she’d expected, everyone had been shocked and sympathetic and ready to side with her, which had perversely made it worse, but at least she hadn’t broken down in front of them all.

  ‘It’s OK, honestly,’ she’d assured them. ‘I’d been expecting it anyway.’

  ‘But you’re so good together,’ Sarah had protested. ‘I reckon he’s mad going back to her. She’ll only mess him around again, the way she did last time.’

  ‘She’s always been a bit of a slapper,’ Johnny announced. ‘And she can be a right cow if you get on the wrong side of her.’

  ‘That’ll be why he’s not here today,’ Sarah decided, ‘because she won’t let him come.’

  ‘He should be a man and stand up to her more,’ Steve chipped in.

  ‘He’s going to regret it,’ Mattie insisted. ‘He’s bound to, because everyone knows he’s mad about you.’

  Finding that almost too hard to take, Alex had said, ‘Whatever, he’s made up his mind and I’m not about to try and change it, not when he’s always said that his children have to come first. So let’s forget it now and focus on making Cliff’s life as easy as possible, shall we, given that he’s on his own doing the lights tonight.’

  In the end the show hadn’t gone badly considering, and everyone had given their all in spite of the audience being much thinner on the ground than for the previous two performances. Just thank goodness Elaine, the estate agent, who’d brought her sister and brother-in-law along, hadn’t mentioned anything about the Vicarage being up for sale. There was only so much sympathy and curiosity she could take in one day: the news that she was soon to become homeless on top of being dumped would have increased her friends’ reactions to a level that would have been out-and-out unbearable.

  She’d spent part of yesterday, Sunday, at the care home with Millie, who’d been delighted to see her when she’d finally woken up and found her there.

  ‘Is it Christmas?’ she’d asked. ‘I likes Christmas, don’t you? You always did when you was a lickle girl.’

  ‘It’s not Christmas yet,’ Alex had told her, ‘but when it comes this year you’ll be with your family up north. Won’t that be lovely?’

  Millie had seemed confused. ‘Can I have me breakfast now?’ she asked, pulling at the sheets in an effort to sit up. ‘I asked for porridge, but they don’t always bring it. I shan’t stay in this hotel again.’

  With a smile Alex said, ‘I thought you liked it here.’

  ‘Oh, I do, they’m lovely people. Ever so kind and they gives you anything you asks for. How’s your dad? I saw him yesterday, coming out of the church. He said he’d mow my lawn for me today.’

  Reaching for her hand, Alex held it between both of hers as she struggled with a silly rise of tears. ‘I’m going to miss you,’ she told Millie in a whisper she’d felt sure Millie couldn’t hear.

  ‘Oh now, I’m not going nowhere yet,’ Millie assured her. ‘There’s plenty of life left in these old bones, you wait and see.’

  Alex wasn’t sure now whether she felt sorry for that, or glad – after all, what kind of life was it stuck in bed all day, unable to do anything for yourself or stop anyone else doing things to you either? Like moving you to a strange place full of people you didn’t know, with a family nearby who might never come to see you. Still, she had to remember that at least Millie wasn’t one of the tragically traumatised souls who never stopped screaming, or swearing, or cowering in fear of something or someone who wasn’t even there.

  And she herself, for now at any rate, wasn’t one of the pathetic people who might have rushed home yesterday afternoon to try and catch Jason, hoping to make it look as though she’d totally forgotten he was going to be there. Consequently she hadn’t seen him at all, when she’d really wanted to. But how great would that have made her feel, watching him packing his bags and leaving for good? She might have ended up begging him to stay and making everything ten times worse for them both, if that was possible, and she was hardly able to imagine that it was. So what she’d actually arrived home to, after a long, solitary walk along the sands trying not to feel sorry for herself and failing miserably, were gaping holes in the wardrobe where his clothes used to be, a toothbrush missing from the holder that had made hers look wretchedly lonely, and a general air of emptiness that had seemed to swallow her up in an awful despair.

  It didn’t matter though, she’d get through it, somehow, mainly because she only had to look at the way other people – like the little boy sitting opposite her now – managed to cope with what life threw at them, to realise that what was happening to her had virtually no significance.

  Fortunately, in six-year-old Peter Leach’s case there was no parental or guardian abuse involved, as such. It was all coming from his eight- and nine-year-old peers, because Peter was different. His problems had now been diagnosed as Asperger’s which his stepfather, in particular, was finding very hard to deal with. However, at least Mr Leach was here at a core meeting today, taking part in deciding on the best way forward for his stepson, who
appeared not to be taking any interest at all in what either the paediatrician or the psychiatrist was saying.

  At that precise moment Alex wasn’t totally focused either, because she’d just received a two-word text from Janet Bookman, the owner of the Pumpkin playgroup: No Show.

  Knowing it was about Ottilie Alex’s heart sank, but as she looked across the conference table at Peter she knew that whatever was happening with Ottilie, her priority right now had to be this little boy. Thanks to his obsessiveness and poor communication skills it was highly probable that no one was ever going to care as much about him as his mother did, though his stepfather was obviously trying. However, being long-term unemployed, and undereducated in almost every way, neither parent seemed to have any idea what to do with the child – except try their hardest to blame social services for the unwelcome and baffling diagnosis.

  As Peter’s health visitor began explaining what came next in Peter’s care plan, Alex took the opportunity to send a quick text back to Janet. On it. Please don’t let place go. Then, taking a bathroom break, she rang Kesterly Primary and asked to be put through to Brian Wade.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ came the reply, ‘he’s in a meeting this morning and can’t be disturbed unless it’s an emergency.’

  Tempted to tell the woman it was exactly that, Alex ended the call and returned to the meeting, determined to stay focused on Peter in spite of how strongly she wanted to drive over to North Hill right now to find out what the heck Erica Wade was up to. She’d said she’d take Ottilie to the playgroup, but clearly it had been a ruse to get Alex off their backs, or that was how it was seeming right now.

  As she listened to Gail from Family Support outlining the proposed procedure that she and Alex had drawn up for the month ahead, Alex could feel herself becoming angrier and angrier with Erica Wade for not sticking to her word. OK, Alex hadn’t exactly expected her to, but that wasn’t making the woman’s failure to do what was right for Ottilie any easier to stomach. Didn’t she realise, or care, that she might end up losing her daughter if she carried on like this?