Nobody's Baby

by Penny Kline

  Concentrate on the road and getting there as fast as possible. As she drove, she watched out for familiar landmarks – anything that might shorten her journey. If it had been the summer, the roads would have been crowded, but in November traffic was light. At least the sky was clear. And there could have been ice. She thought about the night she had found Cressy, wrapped tightly in a blanket. At least Dawn had provided a bottle and a nappy. She was not mad. She was crazed. Crazed with anger that, for the first time in her life, she had failed to achieve her aim.

  The outline of Exeter Cathedral loomed in the distance. Ten more minutes and she would know if she was right. Please God, let her be right. But even if it was, she might be too late. And it would be her fault. It had never occurred to Izzy that Dawn would put Cressy in danger. She should have warned Bev never to let the baby out of her sight. If anything happened to Cressy, she would have to live with it for the rest of her life. Bev must be frantic. A police officer would be with her. Not Fairbrother. Fairbrother would be thinking how she had been right all along. Izzy had been keeping something back, acting irresponsibly for the sake of a friend who was not in her right mind.

  She skirted the edge of Exeter, trying to remember the quickest route. The roundabout. Then turn right. What time was it? Had she made the right decision? Could she really read Dawn’s mind?

  One more mile and, leaving her car on double yellow lines, she raced down the road towards the estuary. She had been there before – once with Josh and a second time with Kath – and remembered a walkway, and driftwood, sea birds – and mud.

  No one was about and there was no sign of Dawn’s van, but she could have left it in a side road. She had a head start and she would have driven like a mad thing in her effort to prove no one got the better of her, not Miles, and certainly not Izzy.

  Jade’s words came back to her. Crazy people always give you clues. It’s part of the madness. Dawn had given her a clue, asking if she still had nightmares. But if Izzy was wrong, she had no more ideas and would have to give up and leave the search to the police, and it would be too late, she knew it would.

  The sun was going down and a thin mist hung over the water. Shading her eyes, Izzy peered into the distance but saw nothing. The tide had brought up large amounts of debris that had stuck in the mud. It was no good. A decision, based on nothing more than a vague intuition. They were somewhere else, miles away. Cressy would be crying and Dawn would have nothing to give her, no bottle, nothing to keep her safe.

  How could she have been so irresponsible? She should have called the police as soon as Dawn drove off. They would have known the best way to find her. A helicopter would have spotted the van. With a despairing sigh, she sat down on the stone wall and buried her face in her hands. Cressy had never stood a chance, not unless Izzy had done as Dawn said and brought her up as her own child.

  The sound was faint, far away. A seabird? One of the ones that Stuart had described, come to the estuary for the winter. If she called him on her mobile he would come to help. It would take him less than fifteen minutes. But to help with what? By now, she could be on her way to London or the Midlands, or perhaps to Cornwall, with Cressy rolling about in the back of the van.

  The same sound. Not a bird. No bird wailed like that. A baby, she was sure of it, a baby out in the open. Racing towards the water, Izzy shouted Dawn’s name, pleading, begging, although nothing she called out could possibly be heard. Then she saw her. Not Dawn, she was nowhere to be seen, but she recognised Bev’s pram blanket, white with scarlet stripes, the one Pippa had chosen, because babies are always given boring old pink or blue ones and it said in a book they like stripes.

  She should have seen her before. She should have brought binoculars. Stuart would have had binoculars but she had nothing. She was on her own. To reach Cressy she would have to cross the mud. Even if she made it without being sucked under, she could be too late. By then the crying could have stopped and the tiny body could be cold and lifeless.

  Looking back, she saw the dark outline of a bird hide. Beyond the mud, the river would be flowing fast, meeting the sea, rising with the tide.

  Fear paralysed her. What she had to do was impossible. Two people would die instead of one. Then the wild, eerie cry of a different bird broke the silence, jerking her body out of its frozen state and very slowly, like the person in her recurrent nightmare, she began edging forward, inching her way through the deepening mud towards the small, motionless shape.

  The wind was growing stronger and it was difficult to keep her balance. The mud was soon up to her knees and with her next step she felt herself sinking and withdrew her foot slowly, carefully, keeping as much of her weight as possible on her other leg. It would get worse. She needed help, but there was none, and the further out you went the more likely you were to disappear down a hole? Her fingers reached out for the striped blanket and she tried to pull it towards her, but it was in danger of coming away and leaving the baby behind.

  Please, Cressy, please be alive. She thought she saw the blanket move but she could have imagined it. She must stay upright. If she fell over she would never be able to stand up again. The blanket, with Cressy inside it, was coming closer, sliding across the mud because the baby was so light. With one last effort, two of Izzy’s fingers manoeuvred it towards her and she had it in her grasp. Now she would have to reach dry land again.

  Turning her head, she could see a small crowd gathering. Would one of them come out to help? But what could they do? A plank of wood on top of the mud might help but where was it going to come from and it would never be long enough.

  With Cressy in her arms, she turned, keeping her eyes on the shore, and began moving through the mud, while all the time telling the baby it was going to be all right. Was she alive? It was impossible to tell. She must be so cold, and another thought occurred to Izzy. Supposing Dawn’s confused brain had told her she ought to kill her baby? No, she had heard her crying. She had been alive then. When she started across the mud, Cressy had been alive.

  The blanket moved a little, but it could have been the wind. Izzy allowed herself a moment to stop and look at the baby’s face and, almost as if she recognised her, Cressy’s mouth opened and she began to yell.

  Chapter Twenty-one

  They had spent the morning at Dawlish Warren, somewhere Stuart knew well.

  ‘Quite soon, if the weather gets colder,’ he told her, ‘thrushes and finches, and some waders, may shelter here.’

  ‘It’s the estuary birds you study the most though.’

  ‘Yes, but injured or exhausted birds often concentrate here. It can be bleak, but not as unwelcoming as the open sea. Hey, are you all right?’

  ‘Why wouldn’t I be?’ But more time would have to pass before she felt back to her normal self. What was her normal self? She no longer knew. All she knew for certain, was that Dawn was dead, but Cressy was safe.

  ‘Time for lunch.’ Stuart guided her back towards the car park. ‘Not here. In Dawlish. Feed you up before you go and visit the Jordans. Do they ever come here, do you know?’

  ‘To the beach, I expect. Bev never mentioned anything about bird watching but Alan’s the kind who might enjoy it. Actually, I feel quite nervous about visiting them.’

  ‘Really? Why’s that?’

  ‘I’m not sure. Because of what happened to Cressy. Because I should have told the police.’

  ‘But they’re not going to bring charges. That’s a relief.’

  ‘I think Fairbrother would have liked to. Sometimes, in the night, it all seems like a dream.’

  ‘Or a nightmare.’

  ‘I don’t think Dawn wanted to kill me.’

  ‘But she could have.’ He pushed aside a strand of hair that had blown across her face. ‘If only you’d let me come with you. At the very least, she could have injured you badly.’

  ‘But she didn’t. When I saw the knife I thought she’d come after me – she was always such a fast runner – but she had other ideas.’

/>   ‘If you’ve killed once, it’s easier to kill again. Isn’t that what they say? I should have insisted.’

  ‘I thought it was something I had to do by myself.’

  He gave her a look as if to say, are you always so fiercely independent? And she ran to the top of a sand dune to look at the cold, grey sea. Four or five seagulls bobbed about in the water and she could see a large ship on the horizon, probably bound for Plymouth. It was a beautiful place and she would come again. And it would still hold memories – of Dawn, and Josh, and everything that had happened that autumn – but with passing time, she hoped she would feel differently about the memories, and stop blaming herself.

  ‘Soup,’ Stuart called, ‘something to warm us up. Come on or we’ll freeze.’

  Now they were in Dawlish, walking under the pier. The tide was out and because the sun had put in an appearance, the beach was more crowded than was normal at the end of November. A family – mother, father, and two little boys – were out for a walk, with one of the boys chasing after a golden retriever puppy. It raced round in circles then ran towards Izzy, jumping up with wet, sandy paws.

  ‘Down, Mickey,’ the woman called, ‘I’m so sorry.’

  ‘Don’t worry, I like dogs. How old is he?’

  ‘Twelve weeks. His first time on the sand. ‘The woman caught hold of the puppy and clicked its lead onto its collar. ‘Nice to see the sun. Do you live in Dawlish?’

  ‘No, Exeter.’

  ‘Same here. Well, not Exeter itself, we have a cottage close to the estuary.’

  Izzy nodded. Close to the estuary. Close to where Dawn’s body had been found? No, that was nearer the open sea. She wondered if the woman had read about it. Presumably she must have done – it had been headline news – but memories were short, even though the baby had added an extra dimension to the story.

  Izzy had been to see Wendy Bruton and Dominic, wondering if she would be welcome, but needing to make sure they were all right. Of course, they weren’t, how could they be, but Wendy had seemed to appreciate Izzy’s concern and they promised to keep in touch, although it was unlikely the promise would be kept. Cressy was Dominic’s half-sister. Perhaps one day, when he was older, he would find out about her and the two of them would meet.

  She had taken him a present – another of the mythical figures he liked so much – and it had brought a faint smile to his face. He looked better, not so pale, and Izzy thought, even though he had lost his father, it must be a relief to know the truth. What had Wendy told him? Enough surely for him to believe his father had not deserted him on purpose.

  Would Rosalie feel the same way as Dominic, that at least it was over? In Rosalie’s case this was unlikely. Francis would try to comfort her but she would keep a tight grip on herself and refuse to express her grief. One day, Izzy would drive up to Cheshire again, and perhaps Stuart would accompany her.

  When Kath ended her affair with Harry, Izzy had been afraid Kath would leave and find another job. She still might, but there was no point in worrying about that. They would remain friends whatever Kath decided.

  Izzy had thought Dawn was her closest friend. Would she miss her? The old Dawn perhaps, although her recollections had altered and she had faced the fact that her childhood friendship with Dawn had never been as perfect as she had liked to believe.

  The woman with the puppy had returned to her family.

  ‘I didn’t know you liked dogs,’ Stuart said, ‘I thought you were a cat person.’

  ‘You can like both.’

  ‘Of course you can. What time are they expecting us?’ He took her hand. ‘I mean, what time are they expecting you? Best if I stay in the car.’

  ‘No, don’t do that.’

  ‘If I come in with you they’ll think I’m your boyfriend.’

  ‘Let them.’

  ‘Really?’ He laughed, taking hold of her shoulders and kissing her on the mouth. ‘No, sorry, it’s not funny, none of it’s funny.’

  ‘But at least it’s over and Bev and Alan are going to be allowed to keep the baby. I’m so happy about that. I want you to meet them, Stuart. And Nigel and Pippa. And most of all I want you to meet Cressy.’

  Other titles you may enjoy

  ..

  For more information about Penny Kline

  and other Accent Press titles

  please visit

  www.accentpress.co.uk

  For news on Accent Press authors and upcoming titles please visit

  http://accenthub.com/

  Published by Accent Press Ltd 2014

  ISBN 9781783752805

  Copyright © Penny Kline 2014

  The right of Penny Kline to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted by the author in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.

  The story contained within this book is a work of fiction. Names and characters are the product of the author’s imagination and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, electrostatic, magnetic tape, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the written permission of the publishers: Accent Press Ltd, Ty Cynon House, Navigation Park, Abercynon, CF45 4SN

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-one

  Copyright