by Linda Huber
He couldn’t go on like this, he couldn’t – they had no right to treat him like a common criminal. They’d tried twice to interview him yesterday, growling the same stupid questions over and over, even bringing in some stupid woman to ‘represent’ him. All she’d done was tell him to cooperate, so he’d refused to say a word.
A key clicked in the door and two men walked in. Ha! It was the DI and that stupid sergeant Sarah’d always been on about. Time to go, Jack, time to go. Bye bye.
He gave the men his broadest smile, and both their faces froze.
‘Mr Morrison, we’re going to do another interview and this time I strongly recommend you cooperate. Your lawyer will be here shortly and she’ll talk to you first. Is there anything you’d like to say before she arrives?’ The DI’s voice was bored.
Jack slid along the bench and squeezed himself into the corner. ‘Is Mummy coming soon?’
Sergeant West cleared his throat. ‘No-one is coming because you refused your right to a phone call yesterday. Do you want us to inform your parents?’
Jack began to cry. ‘I want my mummy.’ He stared at the officers, making no effort to wipe away the tears streaming down his face. ‘Mummy!’
Sergeant West leaned towards the DI. ‘He’s faking, boss.’
The other man turned for the door. ‘Faking or not, we need the doc here. He’s round the front.’
They left without a word to Jack, and the anger spilled over.
He ran to the door and beat it with his fists, sobbing in a high-pitched voice he’d never heard before. ‘Mummy! I want my mummy!’
It wasn’t long before the little window in the door was slammed open.
‘Stop this racket! The doctor’s here to see you.’
The cell door opened and Sergeant West came in with a solemn young man in a crumpled suit. He looked like he’d been up for a long time. Jack fled back to the corner of his bench, and the young man sat down about a metre away.
‘Jack, I’m Doctor Cassidy and I’m here to help you. What’s the problem?’
‘I want my mummy.’ It was a peevish whine, and Jack blinked at the doctor. He had kind eyes.
‘Sergeant West can phone your, ah, mother, if that’s what you want. What’s her name?’
Jack giggled. ‘Mummy.’ His voice rose and cracked. ‘Mummy, mummy, mu – ummy!’
The doctor patted his shoulder and went back to the officer on the door. ‘Let’s call her. We’re getting nowhere here; you’re going to need a psych assessment.’
‘He’s faking – isn’t he?’ The sergeant sounded less sure now, and Jack began to sob, then laughed loudly as the men left.
He was alone for a long time. Once the door opened, and Jack shouted, ‘Mummy?’ – but a tray with a plastic cup of tea, and a piece of toast was slid into the room without comment. Jack ate the toast and poured the tea on the floor.
Soon after that he heard her voice in the hallway.
‘I can only assume you’ve got the wrong person here, Detective Inspector. My Jack wouldn’t hurt a fly. He’s a good boy.’
‘He’s a grown man, Mrs Morrison, and he’s in bad trouble.’
‘Nonsense.’
‘I’m afraid not.’
The voices stopped a few metres away, and his mother spoke again. He’d heard the same self-satisfied outrage in her voice so many times before.
‘Locked in a cell? This is ridiculous – Jack, darling! I’m here.’
Footsteps approached the door, and the key turned in the lock. This was it. Crunch time.
Jack began to scream.
The End
Chosen Child Extract
If you enjoyed Ward Zero, you may like to try Linda Huber’s other books. Here’s an extract from Chosen Child.
Chapter One
Saturday 3rd May
Ella held her breath, squinting at Rick as he inched the Peugeot into the narrow space between a battered Clio and a shiny new BMW. He was nervous – of course he was, she was too – and it didn’t make the manoeuvre any easier. The Peugeot crept forward until Rick yanked the handbrake up, and Ella’s shoulders sagged in relief. A scrape on anyone’s car would have been the worst possible start to their first adoption party.
‘I’ll need to get out your side,’ said Rick, glaring at the Clio. ‘What a cattle market. I can’t believe we’re doing this – we’d be much better waiting for Liz to find us a kid the traditional way.’
Ella opened the passenger seat door. Rick was a planner; he’d never been the kind of person to simply have a go and see how things turned out. She tried to sound encouraging. ‘Liz said these parties were a great place for people to find a child they were – attracted to.’
It was the wrong choice of words.
‘I don’t want to be attracted. You don’t get to pick out an attractive baby when you have one of your own, do you? I don’t care if he’s blonde like you or dark like me, or whatever. All I want is a nice little kid – a boy, preferably, one we can give a good home to and enjoy as he grows up.’ He struggled across the passenger seat and emerged beside Ella in the car park, crammed today with a motley selection of vehicles, including a tandem. People attending adoption parties seemed to be a varied lot.
Ella took Rick’s arm as they walked towards the entrance. The Majestic was the largest hotel in St Ives, a relic from a slower, more elegant era, its white walls dazzling in the warm spring sunshine. She was conscious of the nervous churning in her stomach – this was the first time they would come face to face with children who were up for adoption. It was the dream of a lifetime for Ella – how very much she wanted to read bedtime stories and mop up tears and be frustrated because they couldn’t find a babysitter. And this afternoon could bring them a huge step closer to doing just that. As of last Thursday, they were panel-approved to adopt, so ‘all’ they needed now was a child.
Ella was astonished when she learned about the adoption party project. It sounded so lightheaded, like going to a salesroom and picking out a new car.
Liz, their adoption society worker, had explained. ‘It’s organised as a fun afternoon for the kids, with loads of games and activities. People who’re panel-approved can meet the children in an informal setting. There’ve been several successful events around London, though this one’s the first in our part of the country.’
Ella wasn’t sure she’d understood. ‘So we have a look and see if there’s a child that might suit us?’
‘It can make a difference when you see a child in person. I’ve known several instances of a couple saying beforehand they’d only consider a baby, or they must have a girl – and then they go to a party and fall in love with a completely different child. Of course you still need to go through all the normal channels afterwards.’
‘Sounds a bit plastic to me,’ said Rick, and Ella knew by his tone if he hadn’t respected Liz so much he’d have called the idea something a lot worse than plastic.
And now it was party day and Rick was showing his nerves, so Ella had to be the calm one. She took a deep, steadying breath as they joined the other prospective adopters in the dining room. A woman name-badged Kirsty stood up and went on to tell them everything Liz had already gone through. Ella could feel Rick twitching beside her. Why was this so hard for him? It wasn’t as if they had to make a decision today.
‘And of course, the most important thing about this afternoon is that the children have fun. So on you go and have fun with them,’ said Kirsty, gathering her papers at the end of her talk. ‘The foster carers will be available for questions, and this room can be used if anyone wants a quiet place.’
Ella squeezed Rick’s hand as they joined the general shuffle towards the door. This was it. The search for their child had begun. The sound of excited young voices floated across the garden, and anticipation fizzed through Ella. Any second now they might come face to face with the little boy who’d be their son.
‘It’s well organised, isn’t it?’ Her eyes flitted across the garden, where
a bouncy castle, a couple of donkeys, and a clown were already in action. A marquee with games was set up to one side, and the smell of coffee came wafting over the grass.
‘Hm. So we find a kid and start talking?’ said Rick, and Ella gave his arm a shake.
‘Yes – and give it a proper chance, please,’ she said briskly.
Rick shot her a hunted look, and Ella felt the tension creeping back into her shoulders. She fought against rising resentment. This was supposed to be a fun day and she wanted to enjoy it. But if Rick went on like this he would ruin it for both of them.
After a few minutes the procession of adults dispersed around the garden, and the children became more visible. Some were clinging to foster carers, more were playing independently. A lump rose in Ella’s throat – all these children needed a forever home, and all these ‘parents’ wanted a child. Surely some of them would find what they were looking for.
They stopped by a dark-haired boy of about three and Ella crouched down. ‘Having a good time?’ she asked, patting the plastic tractor the child was riding.
‘I’m a farmer,’ said the boy, whose name badge identified him as Joey. He pedalled his tractor over the grass, and Ella smiled as he swung it round and parked beside Rick. This little boy was just what they were looking for – could they have struck gold already?
A woman with a foster carer’s badge appeared and handed the child an ice cream.
Ella stepped across and spoke in a low voice. ‘Has Joey been with you long?’
‘Eighteen months,’ said the woman, taking Ella a few steps to the side. ‘Lovely kiddie. He has epilepsy but it’s well-controlled.’ She turned to smile at another couple who were hovering.
‘Oh,’ said Rick blankly when Ella told him what Joey’s foster carer had said. ‘I’d wondered if we might consider him, but now – no way. I wouldn’t cope with that.’
Ella nodded. Rick had said right from the start that he didn’t want a child with a disability, and she’d accepted it.
They stood for a while with a group watching the clown, then moved inside the marquee to help two small boys build a tower with wooden bricks. Disappointment and frustration were gnawing away inside Ella. She’d been imagining the equivalent of love at first sight bowling both her and Rick over – that they would see a child and know immediately ‘that’s the one’. And it wasn’t happening. The little boys jumped up and down on the wooden marquee floor, and the tower swayed elegantly before crashing to the ground amid shrieks of laughter.
Rick was grinning too as they turned away. ‘Fun, but not quite what we’re looking for.’ He pulled her towards the queue for coffee.
‘We’ll probably feel this way when they find us a child on paper,’ said Ella, when they were sitting at a table overlooking the inside play area. ‘It’s normal.’
‘When they find us a child the usual way, at least we’ll know he ticks the important boxes. And we’ll be able to get to know him in a quiet place, not in a bloody rabble.’ Rick jerked his head to the corner of the marquee where two small boys and a thin little girl were quarrelling over an electric racing car track. The boys weren’t letting the girl have a turn, and she wasn’t taking it quietly.
Ella sipped slowly. Rick had given up on the afternoon. Why was he being so defeatist?
The racing car dispute came to a sudden end when one of the boys ripped up a piece of track and threw it at the girl before running off with his friend. The girl stared after them, blinking hard and pushing long dark hair behind her ears.
‘Oops,’ murmured Ella, and went over to the child, who was fitting the track together again, her eyes bleak. ‘Want a hand with that?’
The girl looked about six or seven. She wasn’t wearing a name badge, which made Ella wonder if she was up for adoption. Not that it mattered; this child ticked none of their boxes. Ella watched as she banged the track into place.
‘I can’t do it anyway,’ she said, her voice trembling. ‘But they should have let me try.’ She slotted a car into place and lifted the hand control to demonstrate she really couldn’t do it.
Rick crouched down and picked up the second control. ‘I used to have one of these. Wonder if I can still make it go.’
‘Who’s that on there?’ said the girl, pointing to the medallion round Rick’s neck.
Ella laughed. ‘St Christopher. He brings good luck to travellers. Just right for this game, isn’t he?’
‘It’s got a bash.’
‘That’s because Rick dropped it one day and then drove over it. So maybe it’s not so lucky after all.’ Ella knelt beside the track. ‘Let’s have a race. You and me on the red car, Rick on the yellow one.’
The girl slid over and together they grasped the red control stick. A whiff of peach shampoo tickled Ella’s nose, and tears welled up in her eyes. Why, why couldn’t she have a child of her own? Life was cruel, and there would be no happy end for them this afternoon. All Rick wanted was to go home and let Liz get on with the task of finding them a little boy. Swallowing her disappointment, Ella held the girl’s hand over the control and tried to keep the car on the track.
‘Faster!’ cried the child, pressing harder, and inevitably the red car spun off course.
Rick swept past with the yellow one and stopped. ‘Have another go. The trick is to slow right down when you go into the curves.’
The girl gave him a suspicious look, then tried again. The red car crept along the bottom curve, accelerated briefly on the straight, then drove sedately round the top bend and into the garage area.
One of the foster carers came into the tent, relief on her face as she hurried towards the girl. ‘There you are! Oh – you’re playing cars? Where’s your name badge?’
‘I took it off,’ said the girl. ‘Kids were being stupid.’
Ella almost laughed. The words were so direct, and the woman clearly hadn’t expected to find this child playing cars or anything at all.
The girl waved the handset towards Ella and Rick. ‘Then they came and he told me how to do it and I drove a round by myself!’ Her voice was positively triumphant. She gazed from Rick to Ella and beamed suddenly, showing a gap where a bottom front tooth should have been.
Oh my God, thought Ella, her breath catching in her throat. Oh my God.
