by Penny Kline
Dawn was humming to herself, a tune Izzy recognised, one they had liked as children, a pop song they had played over and over.
‘I remember that song,’ she said, hoping it would be please Dawn, and go some small way to recreating the bond they had once had. If she could persuade Dawn to confide in her like she had done in the past. Except she had not confided how she met her father in secret, and perhaps there were other things she had kept to herself. The death of Izzy’s cat, Pushkin? And Stuart’s rabbit?
‘You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to, Dawn, but was it you who pushed Josh into the river?’
‘He’s an idiot.’ She started to laugh, covering her mouth with her hand then crouching down to pick up a stick and snapping it into several pieces.
‘Josh and I split up weeks ago. Before you left Cressy outside my house.’
‘And you were afraid he wouldn’t come back if you kept her.’
‘No, it was my decision he move out. How could I keep her? When I called the police I had no idea who she was.’
‘I left a note in her cot.’
‘Yes, I know, but at the time –’
‘You’re not stupid. At least, you used not to be. You knew Cressida was my favourite name. Do I have to spell it out over and over? I wanted you to have her. Don’t you want her? How could you reject her, a tiny motherless baby?’
‘She’s not motherless, Dawn. No, it’s all right, I do understand. It must have been so difficult for you.’
‘What must? You like babies. I remember you once saying –’
‘Yes, yes I do, of course I do.’ She had been going to ask her about Blanche, but decided against it. Better to focus on convincing Dawn she sympathised, understood.
‘Anyway, you’ve got to get her back.’ She stared up at the sky and held out a hand, testing for rain although it was far too cold. ‘Tell them you made a mistake. Say she’s your baby and you pretended you’d found her outside your –’
‘I don’t think anyone would believe –’
‘Make them!’ She moved towards Izzy who took an involuntary step back, almost losing her footing. ‘I don’t know why we’re standing out here. It’s bloody cold. Was it your idea?’
‘You wanted me to see your garden.’
‘I’ve been pruning the fruit trees. They produce too many branches and shoots. You have to cut out the dead or diseased ones to allow the air to circulate. Do you have any fruit trees, or any soft fruit? Redcurrants are delicious. So are gooseberries. I remember how your mother used to make gooseberry crumble. How is she?’
‘Where was Cressy born? Was it here in this cottage? It can’t have been in Portugal, she’s too young. Was Miles with you? I do hope so.’
‘What could he do?’
‘Giving birth on your own wouldn’t –’
‘Wouldn’t what? Why do you keep … Go on, get back into the house. I suppose you think if you keep me blathering on I’ll come to my senses. You’re the one who needs to do that. Don’t you realise, I had it all planned.’
‘When? When did you plan it? What about Miles? She’s his baby too. Even if you don’t want her –’
‘Of course I wanted her. Why are you being so stupid? You never used to be. What’s happened to you? Is it because of Josh? Did you split up with him because of Cressy? No, you said it was before. Why? What did he do? He seemed –’
‘You never met him, Dawn.’
‘Yes, I did. Didn’t I? You wouldn’t let me. Why wouldn’t you let me? What’s wrong with him? You never told me there was something wrong with him. Did you think he’d harm Cressy? Yes, that must be it. Why didn’t you tell me? You should have told me.’
They were back inside the conservatory. Dawn was right, she was stupid. Stupid to have come here on her own. What wouldn’t she have given to be back in the safety of her house. Then she thought about Blanche and her anger gave her strength.
‘You took my cat.’
‘You can’t prefer a cat to a baby.’
‘And hurt her.’
‘Hurt her?’ Dawn looked genuinely puzzled. ‘She jumped out of my arms and ran off. Could I help it if she ran off? I’m sorry, you must miss her.’
‘She came back.’
‘There you are then. Like a homing pigeon. There were doves here once, but they flew away.’
With a supreme effort, Izzy sat down again. How ever afraid she felt, it was vital she didn’t show it. ‘Let’s talk about everything properly. If Miles is Cressy’s father surely he deserves some say in who brings her up. Is he really upstairs? There’s no point in him hiding, I’ve been in touch with Wendy. And Dominic – you never told me they had a child.’
‘What about it?’
Mentioning Dominic had been a mistake. ‘I saw your mother. I didn’t realise she’d re-married. Well, I don’t think they’re actually married but … And Stuart Robbins. Did you know he was living in Exeter? He remembers you well.’
‘His rabbit.’ She was laughing. ‘I’ve never liked rabbits.’
‘Dawn, I’ve always meant to ask you. That time you were ill with a virus and had to miss most of the school term –’
‘I knew my mother would never tell yours. Brian had had it coming for months.’
‘Brian?’ Izzy tried to remember a boy in their class called Brian. Tall for his age, she thought, and good at games. ‘What happened?’
‘He called me a stuck-up swot.’
‘You hurt him?’
‘Broke his arm.’ Dawn was rocking backwards and forwards with her hands on her hips. Her straggly hair hung over her shoulders. Once, it had been beautiful, the envy of the other girls at school. Surely the cottage had running water. Yes, it must have. But Dawn had no interest in her appearance. Her clothes looked as though she had been wearing them for several weeks, baggy green trousers and a top that looked as if she might have worn it when she was pregnant.
‘Oh, look.’ She was gazing through the window. ‘The robin’s back. My friend, like in The Secret Garden. You loved that book but I preferred The Railway Children. What was that one we both loved, the one with all those children who searched for treasure? Didn’t we have a good time? Do you remember that club we belonged to? My club. It was my idea.’ She smiled to herself, remembering. ‘Yes, come to think of it, most of what we did was my idea. Incidentally, do you still have nightmares? A repetitive nightmare is a sign of emotional disturbance, an unresolved conflict.’
‘I met your father,’ Izzy said. But if she had hoped the news might shock Dawn out of her false euphoria, it seemed to have the opposite effect.
‘What did you think? He adores me, always has. Miles is the same. Can’t take his eyes off me. And the sex! Can’t get enough! Is Josh any good in bed? It’s so important, isn’t it, especially when you have so little in common with your lover. I imagine it’s the same for you.’
‘I told you, Dawn, Josh and I split up.’ She decided to take a risk. ‘Did you have a baby so Miles would stay with you? You never told me he had a son already.’
A shadow passed over Dawn’s face. ‘You’ve changed, Izzy, you used to be my friend.’
‘I still am.’
She left her chair and stood behind Izzy, with a hand on her head.
‘Come on, Dawn.’ Izzy kept very still. ‘I’m here to help.’
It’s was no good. Nothing she tried was working. What was Dawn planning to do? Slowly, without looking behind her, Izzy stood up and pretended to be interested in the robin. ‘You never see more than one, do you? They have their territory and fight off any other robin that –’
‘Yes, you’re right about that.’ Dawn had joined her by the window and had an arm round Izzy’s neck. ‘Who killed cock robin? I, said the sparrow. What comes next? You remember. With my little arrow. Your brothers had bows and arrows. Why didn’t we have any? Because we were girls I suppose. How typical, how bloody typical.’
When they came through from the main body of the house, Izzy had thought the
slight hum must be coming from outside, but now she noticed the fridge, or it could be a freezer, had its door slightly open. Miles must have stocked it up for her so there was no need to go to the shops. Izzy reached out to close its door but Dawn dragged her away. ‘Look, a thrush. Do you like birds, Izzy? Wouldn’t it be wonderful if we could fly? Do you remember how –’
‘Yes, yes I do.’ Izzy began to edge towards the door that led back to the rest of the cottage. ‘All the plans we used to make. I did miss you when you went to Scotland.’
Suddenly her path was blocked. ‘Don’t be afraid.’ Dawn’s voice was soft, reassuring. ‘It’s quiet here, peaceful.’
‘Yes, you’re right, it is.’
‘No one ever comes near.’
‘Someone must know you’re living here.’ Izzy’s voice was thin and her words ended in a croak. ‘What about the local farmers?’
‘I know what you’re going to do.’
‘I told you, I just want to help.’
‘Like hell you do.’
Fingers touched the back of her neck and, losing her balance, Izzy caught her foot in the rush matting and reached out for something to grab hold of, the freezer door. Two arms enfolded her and the freezer door swung open, revealing its horrific contents.
‘There you are then. You said you wanted to meet him.’ Dawn still had a firm grip of Izzy but one of her arms reached out to open a drawer. ‘He tried to run away. Just like you’re trying to do now.’
‘You killed him.’
‘What else could I do?’ The tip of a knife pierced the palm Izzy’s hand and she gave an involuntary scream. Think. Don’t struggle. If she struggled …
‘Let me go, Dawn. Come on, we can talk about it. I came here because I wanted to help you.’
What was she doing? She had tried that tactic before and Dawn had seen through it at once. Knowing Izzy would return to the cottage, she had planned exactly what she would do, toy with her, lull her into thinking the two of them could have a sensible discussion.
With all the strength she possessed, Izzy kicked out, making contact with Dawn’s shin and at the same time letting out a deafening shriek. For a split second, Dawn loosened her grip and Izzy ran, out through the front door and across the yard, catching her foot on a tree root and tripping, almost falling.
Although she had never been good at sports Dawn was a fast runner. She would catch up with her in no time, still with the knife in her hand.
But instead of running footsteps, Izzy heard a car engine start up and, when she looked over her shoulder, she saw a green van shoot through an open gate and disappear up the lane that led up to the cottage from the other direction.
Her car was five minutes away. How could she have been so stupid? She knew there was another route to the cottage. She should have come that way and parked within easy distance. Where was Dawn going? Did she even know? If she drove that fast she was bound to crash and the police would catch up with her.
Blood dripped from her hand and as she ran she wound her scarf round the cut. She had a first-aid kit in the car. A lint bandage, some plasters. If she drove past The Railway Inn
and onto the main road there was just a chance she might catch up with Dawn before she caused an accident. She was mad. No, not mad, out of touch with reality. In the past she had always got her own way. This time she had failed, failed to force Miles to stay with her. Now she had nothing to lose.
Chapter Twenty
The car refused to start. Time was ticking away and Dawn could be going anywhere. Izzy tried again, and the third time the engine sprung to life. Now what? Dawn would want to get as far away as possible. But she wasn’t thinking like that. In her distorted mind, she could justify her actions. Killing Miles – it seemed likely he had been dead for several weeks – and abandoning Cressy.
How could she stay in the cottage, knowing what she had done? The body in the freezer was wrapped in polythene and its head was at a horribly unnatural angle. But part of the face could be seen and there was no doubt who it was. The glass panels with the television on top? Not solar panels. The shelves from the upright freezer.
Shivery with shock, Izzy’s thought returned to Wendy. What had she told her? You’ll be the first to know. But not yet. Of course, not yet. Poor Wendy. And poor Dominic, who missed his father terribly and was so sure he would come back.
Driving to the top of a steep hill, she jumped out, hoping to spot Dawn’s van in the distance. She had forgotten about her hand, but the bleeding had stopped. The cut was only superficial. What was going on in Dawn’s mind? She had wanted her to see Miles’ body. That’s why she had failed to close the freezer door.
Izzy thought she could see a van on the main road to Plymouth but it was only a speck, too far away for her to see what colour it was.
Perhaps Dawn would drive up north – to her mother’s house in Cheshire? Or to London, where she had been a student, and might be able to disappear, change her name, her appearance. With a six-week-old baby? Think. Think where she would be most likely to go. Did she have a plan or had she simply jumped in her car and driven off?
A sane Dawn would have planned things carefully, but Dawn was not in her right mind. If she ever had been. If Dawn had wanted to kill her she could have done it easily. Laid a trap for her, leaving the door to the cottage ajar and jumping out with a weapon in her hand, an axe or a heavy mallet.
Glancing at the digital clock, Izzy was dismayed to find far more time had passed than she realised. What was she doing? Pulling into a gateway, she did what she should have done in the first place, dialled 999, and listened in an agony of impatience as the operator asked if she wanted police, fire, or ambulance.
‘Police.’
Another wait. A few seconds. A voice answered and she asked to speak to DS Fairbrother. ‘My name’s Isabel Lomas. She knows who I am.’
‘I’ll transfer you.’
Another wait. Every second felt like an hour. And it was her own fault for wasting so much time.
At last, the voice came back on the line. ‘I’m afraid DS Fairbrother is not in her office. Can you tell me –’
‘Where is she? No, if she’s not there … A few weeks ago I found a baby outside my house and DS Fairbrother … The baby’s birth mother … She’s somewhere … She was living in a cottage, out in the country, close to The Railway Inn. Do you know where that is? No, she won’t be there now. Dawn Dear, she’s called Dawn Dear. She could be driving in any direction. A van, an old green van.’
‘Do you know what make it is? The registration?’
‘No, I’m sorry. I only caught a glimpse. This is urgent. She’s not thinking straight. She’s in danger, could do anything. The baby’s safe – she’s with foster parents in Dawlish – but Dawn –’
‘Where are you phoning from?’
‘Me? It doesn’t matter. I don’t know. A lay-by on the road to … I’m not sure. I don’t know this area very well. I’m high up. I can see the main road to Plymouth.’
‘If you stay where you are, Miss Lomas …’
‘No, I can’t do that. Please, can you try to contact Linda Fairbrother? She has my mobile number. The baby was left outside my house. Her mother … She’s with foster parents, Bev and Alan Jordan. In Dawlish. I’ve forgotten the name of the road but –’
‘We know the name of the road, Miss Lomas. The baby has been snatched from her pram in the garden. Our officers are out looking for her.’
Dawn had always played games. She was devious, cunning. But surely she wouldn’t risk the life of her own baby? She had abandoned her once, but that had been outside the house of someone she knew. What would she do with her now? But it wasn’t the baby that Dawn would be thinking about. Dawn wanted to punish her and knew the best way to do it was through Cressy. How? By leaving her in a lay-by, or on the moor?
She wanted Izzy to suffer, to be desperately afraid, and she knew her greatest fear. The mud by the river Dee. The nightmares about being sucked under. Incidentally, do you
still have nightmares? A repetitive nightmare is a sign of emotional disturbance, an unresolved conflict.
She could contact the police again, but that would lose more time, and even if they took her suggestion seriously it would be only one of the places they looked. If anyone was to get there in time, it had to be her. Dawn would know that.
The drive to Bev’s house in Dawlish would have taken twenty minutes, less since Dawn had always ignored speed limits. After she took Cressy from her pram, where had she put her? She had no car seat so the most likely place was in the back of the van. In a safe place? There was no safe place. Cressy would be crying, frightened. Was it something Dawn had planned, something she knew she was going to do? Only because you let me down, Izzy. If it wasn’t for you, Cressy would be safe. But Cressy might not have been in Bev’s garden. Then what would Dawn have done?
Pointless to speculate. Once Dawn had her she would be on her way to Exeter, to the other side of the estuary. How far would she have got? Would it be possible to cut across country in time to cut her off? She had lost so much time, running back to where she had left her car, and struggling to start to engine, then stopping to phone the police, something she should have done straight away.
She reached a junction and turned sharp left, relying on her memory to find the quickest route. Dawn had always been unforgiving and it was only the fact that she could be such good company that had meant they remained friends for so long. If thwarted, Dawn would want revenge and she would know the best way to get it. Had she no feelings for her own baby? But it wasn’t that simple. Miles had refused to stay with her, and her anger had led her to reject Cressy. All this was only guesswork – Izzy was no psychologist – but on the other hand she knew Dawn, even if she had been foolish enough to ignore the warning signs and fail to tell the police.
Later, she would have to come to the terms with the dreadful image of Miles’ frozen corpse. But not now. How had she killed him? With a knife, or had she drugged him and pulled the plastic bag over his head? Had she broken his neck to kill him or to fit him into the freezer? How much would the police tell Wendy? Did it make any difference? Could she and Dominic suffer any more?
