Picture of Innocence

by T J Stimson

  ‘He wouldn’t have known anything,’ Maddie said, praying it was true. ‘He just fell asleep and didn’t wake up. It wasn’t anyone’s fault. There’s nothing any of us could have done.’

  For the first time since that dreadful morning when she’d discovered Noah, the band around her chest loosened, and she could breathe. Her mother had been right all along. It was no one’s fault Noah had died. It couldn’t have been prevented. She couldn’t have kept him safe, no matter what she’d done. No one wanted to believe that a beautiful, healthy baby could just stop breathing. Pathologists were trained to look for reasons, to determine cause and effect. It led them to see things that weren’t there. They made mistakes; sometimes with catastrophic results. She should have trusted her instincts, but her grief had caused her to cast about for someone to blame – Lucas, Candace, her mother, herself – anything to make sense of it all. Noah’s had been a cot death, nothing more.

  And yet.

  Candace may not have hurt Noah, but what if her baby had cried out that night? What if she’d heard him, gone in to him, picked him up to soothe him? Maybe that’s all it would have taken, and Noah would still be alive. The thought that he might have been crying for her, waiting for her to come to him, feeling alone and abandoned in his final few moments, was too terrible to contemplate.

  She loved Candace, but she didn’t know if she could ever forgive her.

  Chapter 42

  Friday 2.30 p.m.

  Maddie was in the sitting room, cleaning up the last vestiges of the damage from the previous weekend, when she saw the police car pull into the drive. She paused, cradling dried putty from the new window in the palm of her left hand. She was surprised to see DS Ballard get out of the car alone. They usually travelled in pairs, like Jehovah’s witnesses or nuns.

  She dusted the putty carefully into the wastebasket, readying herself for whatever blow was coming next, and opened the front door.

  DS Ballard greeted her with a weary smile. ‘May I come in?’

  She was caught off guard by the tentativeness in the detective’s tone. Until now, the woman hadn’t asked for permission to do anything.

  With a shrug, Maddie stepped back, waving her into the house. ‘You know the way.’

  ‘This won’t take long. Is Lucas home?’

  ‘He had to go back to work; he’s taken so many days off recently. You can find him at the office, if it’s urgent.’

  DS Ballard shook her head. ‘No. I had been hoping to tell you together, but I’ll leave you to break the news to your husband.’ She paused. ‘We’re officially closing our investigation into your son’s death. I know your solicitor has already told you, but I wanted to let you know in person. You can have your son back, Maddie. You’ll be able to say goodbye to him now.’

  Maddie thought she’d braced herself for anything, but the news left her strangely unmoved. She should be relieved it was finally over, angry at what the police had put them through, but she just felt numb. It didn’t bring Noah back, after all. He was still dead. And now she would have to bury him and somehow find a way to go on living.

  ‘So you believe me?’ she said abruptly. Legally, it might not matter, but she needed to hear the words.

  ‘You didn’t hurt your son, Maddie. I believe you.’

  ‘Why?’

  The detective gave a small shrug. ‘Honestly? I can’t tell you. I’ve been doing this a long time, and there’ve been times I’ve thought someone was innocent, only to find out they’re as guilty as sin. Other times, I’ve charged someone, and then discovered evidence that exonerated them.’ She sighed. ‘But nineteen times out of twenty, I’m right. In theory, I don’t believe in hunches. But I think it’s possible to pick up on subconscious signals without even being aware of what we’re doing. It’s what makes a good detective. Call it intuition, if you like. And my intuition tells me you didn’t hurt your son.’

  ‘You still think someone else did, though, don’t you?’

  ‘I told you, Maddie. Officially, our case is closed.’

  ‘And unofficially?’

  Natalie Ballard stared out of the kitchen window for a long moment. There were fingerprints all over it, from where journalists and photographers had pressed up against the glass, trying to peer in. ‘There have been a few high-profile cases where forensics got things wrong,’ she said finally. ‘Some tragic miscarriages of justice. But pathologists don’t usually make mistakes. Not like this.’

  After the detective had left, Maddie stayed sitting at the kitchen table for a long time. Maybe there would always be questions about why Noah had died, but it was time to let them go. She could finally bury her baby. She and Lucas would be able to grieve properly, without having to worry whether they were about to be arrested for the murder of their own child. Well-meaning friends would tell them they could move forward with their lives at last. But how did you ever move on from the loss of a child?

  She thought of the parents of Madeleine McCann, who’d been forced to keep going after their little girl had disappeared for the sake of the twin toddlers they still had. How had they found the strength? Not just to get up in the morning and put one foot in front of the other, but to give their twins a normal, happy childhood? To celebrate birthdays and Christmases and go to McDonald’s, without feeling they were betraying their lost daughter by daring to live without her?

  She pushed herself back from the table, wincing once again as the pain shot through her ribs, and picked up her car keys to go and get the children from school. She and Lucas had sent them back yesterday when school resumed after the Easter break, in an attempt to get back into some sort of normal routine. They’d done their best to prepare Emily for what she might hear when she returned, explaining that some people might say bad things about her grandmother, about something she’d done when she was not much older than Emily herself. But despite their fears, the rumours hadn’t reached the playground so far. Maddie prayed the reprieve lasted.

  Jacob was fretful and grizzly when she collected him from nursery school and she had to wrestle him into his car seat, grimacing as his thrashing feet made contact with her ribs. There were bright spots of colour on his plump cheeks. She sighed. Two days back at nursery and he’d already caught a cold.

  ‘He’s crying again?’ Emily complained as she got into the car. ‘He woke me up, like, a million times last night.’

  ‘He’s got a cold,’ Maddie said, braking as a woman in a Porsche SUV cut in front of her. ‘Try to be nice to him. It’s not his fault.’

  Emily theatrically pulled up her school sweater to cover her mouth and nose. ‘He’d better not give it to me,’ she warned, her voice muffled. ‘It’s Sophie’s party on Sunday. I can’t be sick for that! It’s a spa party, there’s going to be a lady there to do pedicures and manicures and everything.’

  Maddie briefly wondered what had happened to pin-the-tail-on-the-donkey and musical chairs. ‘Calm down. You’re not going to miss it.’

  ‘I don’t know why I have to have brothers. All my friends are only children. It’s not fair.’

  Maddie suppressed the urge to snap: you only have one brother left! Bickering with your siblings and complaining how much you hated them was normal. It was the first normal thing Emily had said since Noah had died.

  Her daughter reached between the front seats and turned the radio up. Ariana Grande blared from the Jeep’s surround-sound speakers.

  ‘Emily! Turn that down!’

  ‘I don’t want to listen to Jacob!’

  ‘And I want to be able to hear myself think!’

  ‘What do you need to think for? You’re just driving!’

  ‘Emily!’

  Her daughter folded herself into an angry knot against the side of the car. Maddie eyed her in the rear-view mirror. It was so unlike her daughter to let anything visibly upset her like this. She was usually an introvert, keeping her emotions bottled up inside. ‘Emily, did something happen at school?’

  Her daughter shrugged.
<
br />   ‘Did someone say something to you?’

  Another shrug.

  ‘Was it about Manga?’ Maddie pressed.

  Emily scowled. ‘No. Just stupid stuff about Noah.’

  ‘What do you mean? What sort of stuff?’

  ‘Everyone wants me to be sad all the time, because of Noah!’ her daughter cried suddenly. ‘But I’m tired of feeling sad! Sophie wasn’t even going to invite me to her party because she thought I wouldn’t want to do anything fun. I told her I wanted to come, and she said OK, but she looked at me as if I was bad and mean and I know they all talked about me when I wasn’t there!’

  ‘You listen to me, Emily Drummond,’ Maddie said firmly. ‘You are neither bad nor mean, do you hear me? No one expects you to be unhappy all the time. It’s sad that Noah died and sometimes you’ll feel sad, but you’re allowed to be happy, too. That doesn’t mean you didn’t love him.’

  ‘I don’t really miss him,’ Emily said, lifting her chin defiantly. ‘He was just a baby. He didn’t do anything very much, except cry. I don’t miss him like I’d miss you if you died, Mummy.’

  ‘I don’t blame you,’ Maddie said, refusing to react. ‘He was just a baby. Babies aren’t very interesting when you’re nine years old.’

  Emily suddenly screeched and the wheel jerked in Maddie’s hand. ‘Mummy! Jacob just puked all over the car!’

  ‘Don’t shout like that when I’m driving!’ She risked a quick glance over her shoulder as she pulled onto the dual carriageway. ‘It’s hardly all over the car, Emily. There’s no need to make such a fuss.’

  ‘Eeew! It’s disgusting!’

  ‘For heaven’s sake,’ Maddie sighed.

  As soon as they got home, she extracted a sobbing Jacob from the car and took him straight upstairs to the bathroom. Without even stopping to take off her coat, she started his bath running and helped him off with his soiled clothes.

  ‘Emily!’ she called down the stairs. ‘I need you to watch him in the bath, so I can get your tea started.’

  ‘Do I have to?’

  ‘You always like playing with him when he’s having his bath!’

  ‘It’s boring. None of my friends have to look after their brothers or sisters.’

  ‘Give me strength,’ Maddie muttered. If this was normal, she’d never survive the teenage years. ‘Emily, I’m not having this conversation with you now. Come and mind Jacob, so I can get dinner started.’

  Emily dragged her feet as she came upstairs, deliberately hitting each tread with her school shoes. Maddie held on to her temper with difficulty, ignoring her daughter as she thumped onto the lavatory seat and mulishly refused to engage with Jacob, who’d lit up at her appearance and was holding out his favourite green whale.

  ‘Call me when he’s had enough,’ she said, sliding Jacob carefully into his bath seat, so that he could play in the water without losing his balance. ‘Don’t try to get him out of the bath yourself.’

  ‘Fine,’ Emily muttered.

  Maddie went back downstairs. After a few minutes, she heard the sound of Emily’s laughter and breathed a sigh of relief. She didn’t know what had got her daughter so upset, but it seemed the storm had passed.

  It took her a little longer to put together the children’s tea than she’d planned. The fresh ravioli she had been going to give them had passed its sell-by date, so she had to whip up some sausages and mashed potato. Jacob didn’t like sausages very much, but if she cut them up small enough, she might get away with it.

  She pulled a load of clean towels from the dryer, folded them neatly and took them upstairs to put in the airing cupboard. There was a lot of splashing coming from the bathroom, she noticed wryly. The floor would be a swimming pool by now. Never mind. At least they were having fun.

  She took a pair of towels into the bathroom. At first, she didn’t realise anything was wrong. Emily was still sitting on the closed lavatory seat, watching Jacob playing in the bath with an expression of mild disinterest.

  Except Jacob wasn’t sitting up in his bath seat playing. He was face down in the water.

  Chapter 43

  Friday 4.30 p.m.

  Maddie didn’t even have time to scream. Jacob was trapped by the bath seat, unable to right himself, his fat little legs thrashing against the side of the bath. In one heart-stopping instant, she dropped the towels and scooped him out of the water, wresting the plastic seat off his lower body as she held him against her shoulder and banged his back, praying she wasn’t too late.

  ‘It’s OK, darling, it’s OK,’ she exclaimed, as he coughed and gasped for air. ‘You’re safe now, sweetheart. It’s OK. It’s OK.’

  Emily hadn’t even moved.

  ‘You were supposed to be watching him!’ Maddie cried. ‘What on earth happened?’

  Her daughter turned her clear blue gaze towards her. ‘He kept crying.’

  She showed all the emotion of a block of wood. Was she in shock?

  ‘How did he end up in the water?’ Maddie demanded. ‘His seat is supposed to keep him safe!’

  She grabbed a towel from the floor and swathed Jacob in it. His chest heaved as he buried his head against her shoulder, too frightened to actually cry. She took him into her bedroom and laid him gently on her bed, carefully patting him dry. He had red weals around his waist from the bath seat, and there were vivid red marks on the back of his shoulders, too. Marks that almost looked like handprints.

  She glanced up. Emily stood in the doorway watching her. ‘Did you leave him on his own?’ Maddie challenged.

  ‘No. You said I’m not allowed to.’

  ‘Then what happened?’

  ‘He kept crying,’ she said again. ‘It’s annoying. He’s always crying.’

  Something about Emily was off. She’d always been a self-contained child, keeping her thoughts and feelings to herself, but this was different. Her brother had nearly drowned and she was acting as if he’d just stubbed his toe.

  The counsellor at the hospital had warned them the children could react to the trauma of their brother’s death in unexpected ways. But this deadness worried her. Emily might only be nine, but children suffered nervous breakdowns too. Jessica had given her the names of some paediatric counselling services. Maybe it was time to make an appointment.

  ‘Emily, you’re not going to get into trouble,’ she said, keeping her voice neutral. ‘But I need you to tell me the truth. Did you push Jacob?’

  ‘We were just playing with his boats and hippos,’ Emily said. ‘He was laughing, and then he got splashed, and he started crying. It gives me a headache. So I pushed him to make him stop.’

  It was her offhandedness that Maddie found disturbing. ‘You pushed him over? Emily, you saw what happened! He could have drowned!’

  ‘It was his fault.’

  ‘Didn’t you hear me? It doesn’t matter how much his crying annoys you! Do you have any idea how serious this could have been? If I hadn’t come in when I did, Jacob might have died!’

  ‘I’m tired of looking after him,’ Emily said impatiently. ‘It’s boring. You’re always making me take care of him. If Noah hadn’t died, I’d have had to look after him, too. It’s not fair. I didn’t ask for brothers. I don’t want them.’

  Maddie flinched. ‘Don’t say that, Emily, please. I know you don’t mean it, but it makes me sad to hear you talk like that.’

  ‘I do mean it,’ Emily said truculently. ‘It’s nice when they’re not here. I like it when I go to Manga’s house and they don’t come. I wish it could be like that all the time!’

  Maddie’s patience snapped. ‘You need to go to your room and think about what you just said,’ she said sharply. ‘When you’re ready to apologise to your brother, you can come back downstairs.’

  ‘You’re so mean!’ Emily shouted, running down the hall. ‘You don’t care about me at all! You only care about the boys! I wish Jacob had drowned!’

  ‘Emily—’

  She stared helplessly as her daughter slammed the bedr
oom door behind her. As exasperating as it was, at least tantrums she understood. The detached, strangely dissociated child who’d dismissed Jacob’s drowning as an annoyance was far more troubling.

  Maddie obsessively checked every inch of her son as she dressed him in his pyjamas, listening to his chest to make sure his breathing was normal, examining his skin for bruises or scratches, and even taking his temperature. Only when she was certain he was fine did she settle him in the sitting room with his favourite comfort blanket in front of Peppa Pig, mentally promising to atone for her bad parenting with extra mummy-and-me-time tomorrow as she left him staring mesmerised at the screen.

  Upstairs, she knocked on her daughter’s door and opened it without waiting for a reply. Emily was curled in a ball on her bed, facing the wall. Maddie guessed she’d been crying.

  She sat on the bed next to her. ‘What you said upset me very much,’ she said evenly. ‘Why do you think I don’t care about you, Emily?’

  Silence.

  She tried again. ‘Of course I’ve been sad because of Noah, but I promise you that’s not because I love him more than you,’ she said. ‘Noah’s gone, and I miss him. We all miss him. But I love you every bit as much as the boys, you know that, don’t you, Emily?’

  She stroked her daughter’s hostile back, but the small shoulder blades flinched beneath her touch and she withdrew her hand.

  ‘I know I haven’t given you as much attention as I should have since Noah died, but that doesn’t mean I don’t care about you, Emily. I love you more than anything in the world.’

  ‘You love the boys more,’ Emily said, her voice muffled.

  ‘Of course I don’t! Why would you think that?’

  ‘Because they belong to Lucas, and you love him. But you didn’t love my dad, and you don’t love me.’

  For once, Maddie didn’t know what to say. She felt her daughter’s pain so acutely, her heart physically ached. ‘Oh, Emily. Your daddy died. Of course I loved him. And I love you for you. How I feel about you has nothing to do with your dad or Lucas.’