No Child of Mine

by Susan Lewis

  By the time she’d finished her head was spinning, and her stomach was rumbling so noisily that her hunger could no longer be ignored. However, she only had to look at food at the moment for her mouth to turn dry and her appetite to go running for cover. She wasn’t sleeping particularly well either; last night she’d been unable to get the awful bedsit she’d viewed out of her mind. She had no idea when it might last have been properly cleaned or decorated, and as for imagining herself living there ... With its one grimy window looking out on to the backs of other desolate houses, it had been so soulless and gloomy that she’d probably end up topping herself if she had to move in. It wasn’t that she minded downsizing, in many ways she’d be happy to, but please God not to somewhere like that.

  And if the prospect of becoming homeless, or at best thoroughly depressed, hadn’t been enough to make sleep elusive, then worrying about Ottilie had been more than ready to step into the breach. Had those peculiar parents of hers bothered to ask how she’d got on at school? She couldn’t imagine her father wouldn’t. Surely, being who he was, it would be the first thing he’d ask when coming in the door.

  Had Ottilie told them about Chloe and riding on the carousel? Had she spoken to them at all? Was she looking forward to going to the Pumpkin again tomorrow? She, Alex, would pick her up at eleven, as arranged, and she was even now trying to organise the day so she could spend some time with her after nursery before taking her home again. She probably could manage to squeeze in another ride on the carousel, or maybe a little jog along the beach on a donkey if the sorry-looking beasts were still there. Or maybe she could take her to Stanson’s, the kids’ emporium, and watch which toys she was drawn to. It might tell her something important about her.

  Jumping as the phone rang she quickly snatched it up, hoping it might be Tommy – or Jason – but it turned out to be a wrong number, so she put the receiver down again and tried not to feel oppressed by the silence closing in around her. The house seemed so empty, so forlorn even, or perhaps it was her mood making it seem that way.

  Dropping her head in her hands, she waited a moment for the wave of longing to pass. She missed Jason so much, and fearing the loss of her home and Millie, not to mention her job, she kept finding her thoughts being pulled towards the family she’d been born into. She knew it was pointless trying to imagine how different her life might have been if she’d been able to stay with them, but sometimes it was hard to make herself stop.

  Her mother and father might not have wanted her, but what about her grandparents, and her brother?

  She’d had a brother.

  A brother. How wonderful was that?

  As she thought of the brother Ottilie had never known she tried warning herself that she was becoming far too involved with the child, but how could she possibly draw back? It was as though dear little Ottilie had curled up around her heart, like a kitten making itself perfectly at home.

  Suddenly she was sobbing. She hated self-pity more than anything, but she was feeling so desolate and miserable today that thinking of Ottilie was breaking her apart inside. If Ottilie was as lonely and confused as she feared, then she, Alex, absolutely had to do something to help her. She was already trying, and she wasn’t going to give up until she was sure Ottilie was safe and receiving all the love she deserved. But what if that meant taking her away from her parents and putting her into care? Would she get that love from a foster family, or would she, God forbid, become another victim of the system that so often turned innocent young children into deeply troubled and even violent individuals?

  Whenever she asked herself those questions, she couldn’t help wondering what her job was really about. It was the cruellest of all ironies that protecting children could sometimes mean putting them into another kind of danger altogether. If she were able she’d become a foster carer herself, she might even consider adopting, but without a supportive, and permanent partner she wouldn’t even be considered, because she had to work in order to live. If only Jason had stayed ...

  She really had to stop this. She needed to pull herself together now and forget all about how things might have been, or what she would do if only ... The property developer had apparently loved the house and was bringing his wife for a viewing the day after tomorrow. This didn’t mean she had to move out this week, or even next. These things often took months to go through, so there was plenty of time to find herself somewhere that didn’t feel as though it was going to crush her very soul every time she walked in the door.

  Reaching for her mobile as it started to ring, she was so eager to speak to someone that she didn’t even bother to check who it was before clicking on.

  ‘Hi, is that Alex Lake?’ a voice rather like Tommy’s asked.

  Realising who it must be, her heart gave a peculiar sort of lurch. ‘Scott?’ she said.

  ‘Yep, it’s me, your friendly PC from up north. I hope I haven’t caught you at a bad time.’

  ‘No, not at all,’ she assured him. ‘What can I do for you?’

  ‘Well, this could be more a case of what I’ve done for you. After we spoke the other day I decided to have a bit more of a dig around about this Jill McCarthy character, and I’ve come up with something that’s got me pretty baffled, I must admit.’

  Curious to know more, Alex said, ‘Go on.’

  ‘Well, whether this is mere coincidence or not I can’t tell you, but it turns out that Erica Wade’s maiden name was McCarthy and her mother was called Jill.’

  Startled, Alex said, ‘So are you saying Brian Wade’s mother-in-law was making the calls accusing him of killing his son?’

  ‘You might think so from that,’ he replied, ‘but Jill McCarthy – at least this Jill McCarthy – died over ten years ago, so she couldn’t have made the calls.’

  Alex was trying to assimilate, but coming up as baffled as Scott Danes clearly was.

  ‘If it is a coincidence,’ he went on, ‘then I’ll be in goal for Man U next match, but how else to explain it ...’

  ‘Could you find anything to say Erica Wade’s mother was mentally disturbed?’

  ‘Not yet, but I can always go on looking. I just thought I should give you a heads up on what I’ve found so far.’

  ‘Thank you,’ Alex said, her mind already racing ahead. ‘I really appreciate this, and anything else you find, no matter what it is, please give me a call, any time day or night.’

  Brian Wade’s tone was long-suffering, bordering on the irritable, as he said, ‘Well, of course it’s a coincidence, Ms Lake. What else could it be when my mother-in-law died even before my wife and I were married?’

  Wishing she’d done this face to face so she could at least see his eyes as he lied, Alex said, ‘I’m interested to know why you never mentioned it when we first spoke about Jill McCarthy. Surely the fact that she has the same name as your wife’s mother must have struck you as, well, curious at the very least.’

  ‘Indeed it did when I first heard it, but please remember that it was almost three years ago that the wretched woman began making the calls, so any curiosity I might have had back then has long since faded.’

  ‘Did you report any of the calls to the police?’ She knew he hadn’t, or Scott Danes would have a record of it, so she was keen to hear his reply.

  ‘Not formally,’ he responded, ‘but I did mention it to an officer I knew at the time. He shared my opinion that unless the woman made any physical threats it was best to ignore her and hope she went away.’

  ‘Did you discuss any of it with your wife?’

  ‘As a matter of fact I didn’t. She was already suffering deeply enough over the loss of our son, so I certainly wasn’t going to make matters worse by telling her about a deranged woman’s telephone calls, especially when the woman was either using, or had, the same name as her mother.’

  ‘Using, as in she could have been someone who actually knew you?’

  ‘I don’t think there’s much doubt that she knew something about me, but she’s certainly not som
eone I knew.’

  Alex remained silent for a moment.

  ‘Are you still there?’ he asked.

  ‘I’m just wondering,’ she said, ‘how, if you didn’t know her, that you knew she was “deranged?”’

  There was an awkward moment during which she got the sense of a trap shutting – then opening again as he said, ‘I believe I mentioned during our early conversations that this woman had contacted other people at the school, before setting her sights on me. Someone must have told me what they knew about her, and, given her behaviour, I had no reason to doubt them.’

  ‘I see,’ Alex said thoughtfully. ‘So can you give me any suggestions as to why there’s no record in that area of a Jill McCarthy with severe mental problems?’

  Another awkward moment before he said, ‘I don’t actually recall ever having said she was local. In fact, I have no idea where she was calling from either then, or more recently.’

  It was true, he hadn’t ever said that, she’d just assumed the woman was from somewhere in Northumbria, and now she was left with the thrilling prospect of a nationwide search for a nutjob she wasn’t entirely sure existed. Except she’d taken one of the anonymous calls herself, and Ben had recorded two, so someone was making them, just not Mr Wade’s mother-in-law.

  Having no choice but to thank him for his time, she rang off and sat staring at her computer screen as she tried to assemble her thoughts. She was at the office now and would have gone to talk it all over with Tommy had he been there, but according to the board he was on one of the new daily visits to the Princes.

  Lucky him.

  ‘Alex, there you are. Didn’t you get my message?’

  Flinching at Wendy’s schoolmarmish tone, Alex forced her head up.

  ‘I’d like to have a word with you please,’ Wendy snapped.

  Pushing back from her desk, Alex got to her feet.

  ‘Here, take this,’ Tamsin called out, throwing a child’s skipping rope her way. ‘Give her enough of it and you’ll be doing us all a favour.’

  Stifling a laugh, Alex followed Wendy into her office and would have left the door open had Wendy not told her to close it.

  ‘Please sit down,’ Wendy invited, waving Alex to the visitor’s chair in front of the desk.

  Making sure not to roll her eyes – a reflex action where Wendy was concerned – Alex did as she was told and clasped her hands meekly in her lap. Wendy liked meekness almost as much as she liked power.

  ‘I have to begin by saying,’ Wendy sighed, ‘that I’m very sorry to be having this conversation with you, but your attitude lately, Alex, has been raising more than a few eyebrows around the department, as well as causing some personal offence.’

  Feeling that very attitude boiling up ready for a fight, Alex said, as smoothly as possible, ‘Do you mean offence to you, or to Ben? Just so we’ve got it clear.’

  Wendy’s jaw tightened. ‘Actually to both of us, and we’re not the only ones who are feeling it. You don’t run this place, Alex, though I realise you like to think you do, so perhaps now would be a good time to remind you that you’re not indispensable either.’

  Alex felt the warning like a burn. Surely to God Wendy wasn’t about to sack her? For what, exactly? She hadn’t done anything wrong, apart from get right up Wendy’s back just about every time their paths crossed, which actually wasn’t always unintentional.

  ‘I know you find all the paperwork irritating,’ Wendy bleated on, ‘you probably even consider it a waste of your precious time, but it’s as important a part of what we do here as anything else.’

  ‘Have I ever not done it?’ Alex challenged, and immediately wished she’d used a less hostile tone. Even if Wendy wasn’t going to fire her today, having been so crudely reminded of redundancies amassing like marauders on the horizon, now would not be a good time to alienate her any further.

  ‘On the whole you do,’ Wendy conceded, ‘but only when it suits you and not always in the time frame allotted. I know you’re going to say that’s because you’re out there dealing with the really important stuff, like protecting children, but it’s that sort of response that has earned you a reputation amongst your colleagues for considering yourself a cut above everyone else.’

  Alex blinked. She definitely hadn’t seen that one coming, but nor had she ever felt it.

  Wendy glanced at the time. ‘I think I’ve made myself clear ...’

  ‘I’m sorry,’ Alex interrupted, ‘but what you just said, about the way everyone thinks of me, is that true?’

  Wendy seemed surprised to be asked. ‘Obviously I’m not saying it counts for everyone,’ she replied. ‘I know you have some good friends out there, but some of your colleagues ... Well, I don’t think it will do you any harm to realise, if you don’t know it already, that you have a habit of creating resentment amongst your peers. I daresay it’s not intentional, but together with your imperious attitude ... Well, you can’t deny that you’re an extremely fortunate young lady in almost every way. You’ve had a very privileged upbringing compared to most – and life isn’t much of a struggle for you now either, is it, not when you think of how hard some of your colleagues have to work to keep on top of their jobs, their families and to make ends meet.’

  She was smiling so pleasantly that Alex was in no doubt she was enjoying this, and even believed it.

  ‘I’m sure most of them would love to live in a large house in a beautiful village with no mortgage weighing them down,’ Wendy continued. ‘And your car is a lot newer than most, isn’t it, and is presumably all bought and paid for.’

  ‘Actually, it’s seven years old and was only paid off at the end of last year,’ Alex informed her – as if it was of the slightest importance.

  ‘Well, that’s as maybe. What the others see when they look at you is the daughter of a man who was widely respected in this area, so most people are drawn to you just for that. I’m talking about your adoptive father, of course, the rector.’

  Alex was speechless. She couldn’t get her head round which parts of that were insulting, and which were just plain mean. Not that the picture Wendy had painted was inaccurate, because obviously it wasn’t, but clearly she was only seeing it from her own myopic viewpoint. ‘Well,’ she finally managed, ‘I can only apologise if I’m causing offence to anyone by being myself. I certainly don’t mean to, but from now on I’ll do my best to be less fortunate,’ and tugging open the door she stormed out of the room.

  As Alex turned into the Wades’ drive on Wednesday morning she immediately had to reverse out again to allow a Sainsbury’s delivery van to leave. As the driver waved a thank you and Alex smiled, she realised this could very well have been the woman who’d raised the alarm about Ottilie. Certainly the anonymous caller’s voice had sounded local, and as far as Alex was aware the only visits the Wades ever seemed to have were when they received a delivery. It was possible that Brian Wade took Ottilie shopping for her clothes and toys, but it seemed much more likely that most of their purchases were made via the Internet, and though she’d never seen a computer in the house, that didn’t mean there wasn’t one somewhere.

  As she pulled up in front of the garage she turned off the blathering on the radio about yet more cuts, and hauling her bag from the back seat she started for the house. She’d arrived early deliberately, in the hope of having a word with Erica Wade before taking Ottilie to nursery. How successful her efforts were going to prove, given how resistant the woman was to any normal kind of communication, never mind questioning, she guessed she was about to find out. First, though, she was going to say hello to Ottilie, who was already making her heart light up with the way she was standing in the open doorway, apparently waiting for her, in her cute pink anorak with fur-trimmed hood and trainers on the wrong feet.

  ‘Look at you,’ she said softly, going down to her. ‘Are you all ready to go?’

  Ottilie nodded and held up Boots, presumably to show that he was too.

  Laughing at her shy pleasure, Alex said
, ‘So are you looking forward to nursery today?’

  Again Ottilie nodded, and Alex felt so thrilled by the two tiny gestures of a response that she couldn’t hold on to a single shred of the bad feelings Wendy had aroused in her.

  ‘I’ll just have a quick chat with Mummy before we leave, is that OK?’

  Ottilie didn’t answer, only turned to watch her walk into the hall.

  ‘Where is she? In the kitchen?’ Alex asked, guessing she’d be unpacking the groceries that had just been delivered.

  Going on through, she reached the door in time to see Erica Wade pushing a handful of pills into her mouth and washing them down with a large glass of what was presumably water. Guessing they were the anti-depressants Dr Aiden the family GP had admitted to prescribing, Trazodone, he’d said, she could only wonder at what appeared such a huge dosage, or maybe Erica was taking something else besides.

  ‘Mrs Wade?’ she said.

  Erica spun round. Her eyes were unnaturally bright and her cheeks stained with a colour Alex had never seen in them before.

  ‘Can I have a word?’ Alex asked.

  ‘Ottilie’s ready ...’

  ‘I know, but ...’

  ‘I’m not taking her, I can’t. You do it.’

  ‘I’m going to, but we’ll have to address the reasons why you can’t ...’

  ‘Not now. I’m too busy. It’ll have to wait.’

  ‘For the moment maybe, but I hope you understand that you really will have to go for a mental health assessment, because if you aren’t capable of taking care of Ottilie ...’

  ‘Does she look uncared for? She’s fed, clothed, has plenty of toys, a roof over her head. I don’t suppose most of the children you come across have anything like as much as she does.’