I fumble the padlock keys, trying to ignore the questions being thrown at me. How long have you lived here? How long have you and Nick been married? Do you plan to have lots of children? Have all your employees at your restaurant been questioned? Were any of them suspicious about Rosie?
The tiny key goes in but then it won’t budge either way. My hands are shaking. I want to scream at them to shut up and leave me alone.
What sort of employee was she? Could one of them have been Rosie’s accomplice? Is it possible they were planning the kidnap of your baby right under your nose?
One of them calls my name and I automatically look over my shoulder. The flashes are an explosion of white light. I bury my head in my arm, blinded.
‘I’m here.’ It’s Becca’s voice calling.
‘Hang on.’ I take the key out then press it in again firmly. This time it turns, and I unbolt the gate. Becca squeezes in through the slimmest gap. Together we shove the gate closed against the reporters who try to push in with their microphones. We manage to bolt it and dash into the kitchen. I lock the door and fall into Becca’s arms.
‘Oh my God, you poor, poor thing. This is an actual living bloody nightmare. Is there any news at all about Thomas yet?’
I shake my head, crying into her shoulder. Deep racking sobs.
I don’t know how long we stand there, but eventually Becca helps me into a chair and puts the kettle on.
‘Where’s Nick?’ she whispers, glancing at the half-open door leading to the hall.
‘It’s okay, he’s out. Searching for Thomas. They could be anywhere by now, though, couldn’t they?’ I grab some kitchen roll and wipe my eyes and nose.
‘Do you think anyone else is involved? There’s so much speculation on the net.’
‘Maybe, I can’t bring myself to think… she was such a nice girl, but they say she may have befriended me so I’d let her take Thomas without a fuss. I can’t get my head round her doing that. I feel so stupid. What a useless mother I am.’
‘Don’t say that, it’s not true. You’re a wonderful, devoted mother. You love that boy so much.’
‘What does she want him for? I can’t bear to think about it.’
‘Oh God, I know. You just have to try and hang on and believe he’s going to be okay. Anyway, I’m not going to ask you 20 questions. You must be exhausted going through it all with the police.’ She puts a mug of white coffee in front of me and sits down with hers. ‘Is there anything I can do? Anyone you want me to call?’
‘It’s okay, thanks. Georgio is holding fort at the restaurant, but he’s already messaged to say they’ve had reporters sniffing there too, so we may have to close up early. I can’t have them bothering the customers.’
‘I tell you what, though, it’s crazy out there.’
‘I rang my parents.’
‘Oh God, did you? How was it?’
‘Dad was actually really kind, but he did his usual thing of pretending he had to go. Mum was unavailable or something. Honestly, if she can’t talk to me about what’s happened today, I won’t speak to her again.’
A text from Greg pings on my phone and a few moments later, the bell rings. Becca opens the door, making sure I’m standing behind her. It looks like Greg has had a word with the journalists as most have moved back allowing him to pass. One or two still shout for me to give them a comment and ‘to have my say’.
‘How are you doing, Gemma?’ Greg asks.
‘Surviving, just about. Any news?’
‘One possible development – shall we go and sit down?’
‘This is Becca by the way, she’s my best friend and neighbour from across the road.’
Becca shakes hands with him then goes into the kitchen to make fresh coffee.
‘Where’s Nick?’ Greg follows me into the living room.
‘Went out looking for Thomas. I don’t know where to. He’s been ages. Any sightings of Rosie yet?’
‘A few false leads – that green pram of yours is pretty popular. We’re following everything up, though.’
‘So can you tell me about this possible new development?’
‘Let me say first that we’re not a hundred per cent sure if this information is going to prove significant or not but,’ he takes a deep breath, ‘a couple of shoppers have come forward about a man they noticed waiting outside the supermarket. They said he seemed agitated, pacing up and down, clock watching, like he was waiting for someone. And when Rosie came out of the main doors pushing Thomas, he appeared to follow her.’
‘Oh my God, what does that mean?’ Chills run up and down my body.
‘We don’t know yet if it was a coincidence or misinterpretation of the couple that told us, but we’re looking at the CCTV outside the shop right now. We’re going to try and get a good shot of him and have it blown up. See if it’s anyone you recognize.’
‘Here we are, do you take sugar, Greg?’ Becca comes in with a mug in each hand. Greg shakes his head and focuses back on me. Becca puts the mugs down.
‘Oh sorry, have I come in at a bad moment?’ She touches my shoulder. ‘Do you want me to go?’
‘No, no, stay, please.’ I reach out for her hand and she takes it and sits next to me.
‘Do you think he could be someone she knew?’
‘I wouldn’t want to even hazard a guess. He may be nothing to do with her at all.’
‘But what if that man has put Rosie up to all this? He might be the one that made her keep Thomas from me. But why would anyone want my baby?’
‘I know this is incredibly hard for you, but try and stay calm, Gemma. Like I said it could be a coincidence that they were going in the same direction. The couple didn’t see if he continued following her because they didn’t know at the time that it might be important. It’s something that’s occurred to them after they saw you on TV.’
I brush away my tears. Becca’s arm goes round my shoulders.
‘And that’s the thing to focus on here, Gemma.’ His hands thread together, fingers pointing at me. ‘Your appeal is bringing in good quality leads and that’s how we’re going to find Thomas. And we will find him, okay?’
I nod and Becca passes me my ‘Happiest Wife in the World’ mug. I usually love the smell of fresh coffee but today it makes me nauseous because it reminds me of normal life and I’m not sure I’m ever going to get back there.
‘When will you know if he’s connected to Rosie?’
‘I’m sorry, I’m not in a position to answer that at this moment in time.’ Greg finishes his coffee. ‘Now, Gemma, you said before that Rosie has a boyfriend. Did she give you any indication of his name, age, how tall he was, what he looked like?’
‘I don’t remember her mentioning any details, only that she wasn’t keen on her mum finding out about him.’
‘Which may indicate that he was a bad lad in trouble with the police, a married man – older than her mum would approve of – or all three.’ Greg writes something down.
‘I’m sorry, I don’t remember her mentioning any of those things.’
‘There’s a possibility that he’s our man outside the shop.’
‘Oh God, really?’
‘They could be trying to pass him off as their own child, which would make it harder to find him.’
My heart skitters. Thoughts rush through my mind one after the other. How could I have put so much trust in this girl? I picture Rosie with her arm around some man, strolling along with my baby, pretending it’s theirs. She seemed so kind and caring, why would she do this to me?
‘You mean, I might never see Thomas again – don’t you?’
Chapter Thirty-Seven
26 July 2018
Scarlett
Mum and I sit in silence as we eat our cheese and pickle sandwiches for lunch. I’ve propped the back door open, hoping to catch a breeze in this searing heat. Mum puts our plates in the sink and gathers up her keys, handbag and a couple of Sainsbury’s bags.
She drives us across Bedford t
o near the town centre, down a side road off a rundown housing estate full of betting shops and fried chicken takeaways that have plastic tables and chairs screwed to the floor. The smell of rancid cooking fat wafts onto the street.
‘Not sure it’s that safe to leave my car here, but still.’ Mum locks it and tries one of the doors to check, looking around for any hoodies that might be waiting to jump us.
The cute-looking B&B is set back from the road. So out of place around here. The sort you see in old American films, with a low white picket fence and roses climbing the walls and around the door. Any minute now, Snow White will come out whistling a jolly tune, surrounded by bluebirds, bunnies and squirrels.
But close up the paintwork on the front door is cracked and lifting in places and there’s a strong smell of drains. The wooded planter – from where a rose was growing – has split and rotted away. The buzzer is grimy-looking, Mum won’t touch it, so she raps on the door with her knuckles.
‘Can I help you?’ An old woman answers, holding a small dog with a squat face under her arm like it’s a rolled-up towel.
‘We’re looking for Tina and Amy Smith,’ Mum says.
‘Oh yes, come in.’ She points to the stairs and says they’re in room number five on the first floor.
We go up and Mum taps on the door. Tina opens it an inch.
‘Amy, it’s me,’ I call. I spot her through the crack, sitting on the bed watching what sounds like Home and Away on a small-screen TV, a really old one that’s a chunky great cube.
‘You’d better come in.’ Tina seems reluctant to open the door.
I slip under her arm through the widened gap and hug a bewildered Amy. She’s wearing her old Frozen pyjamas and unicorn slippers. There are new scratches on her arm. I wish she wouldn’t do that to herself. I hug her again, tears in my eyes. I’m so grateful to see her I could burst.
‘What’s it all about this time, Tina?’ Mum sits uninvited on the end of the narrow bed, which is piled with clothes and bin liners of stuff spilling out. In the corner is a small sink with rusted taps and a dried-up piece of soap.
‘They put the rent up, didn’t they? No warning. I couldn’t do it any more, so we got out of there as soon as.’ Tina relights a half-smoked cigarette from a tin ashtray.
Amy leads me to a box room which was clearly part of the main room originally, but a partition wall now sections it off. It’s not much bigger than a broom cupboard. A narrow bed is squeezed up against the wall. It’s dim as there are no windows, but at least Amy has a bit of privacy.
‘I told you to bring her to me,’ Mum hisses, like we can’t hear her through the flimsy wall. I put my arm around Amy, covering her ears, and rock backwards and forwards. She shouldn’t have to hear this.
‘Come back to ours,’ I whisper.
‘I don’t know.’ Amy stares at the worn carpet which has no underlay. The floorboards creak and clonk with every step. She’s gone back to the quiet awkward girl she was at school. Hiding at the back of the library, curled up on the floor under the table with a book.
‘You do what you like girl, you normally do,’ Tina shouts through the wall.
Amy opens the door and stands there, toes pointed inwards, head down.
‘Just till you get yourself sorted out,’ Mum says to Tina. ‘I mean, look at the state of this place. God knows what’s died on this carpet.’ Mum twists the toe of her slingback into the dark spot in front of her.
‘You’ve got a nerve telling me what to do, how to bring up my own daughter.’ Tina points her finger at Mum while looking sideways at me, lips pursed. If I wasn’t here, she’d like to say a whole lot more about that. ‘You get your own house in order first, that’s all I’m saying.’
‘It’s not the best place for a growing girl, though, is it, Teen?’ Mum tips her head on the side, seemingly unfazed by Tina’s outburst. ‘Let the poor girl come with us.’
‘I didn’t ask you to come here.’ Tina crosses her arms and blows smoke up to the yellowed ceiling.
‘I mean, what’s she going to do here, eh?’ Mum exaggerates looking round the tiny room, not much bigger than a cage at the zoo.
Tina stubs her cigarette out in a saucer until it’s splayed out flat. She sits down heavily near Mum, her hand to her forehead. ‘If you must know, I lost my job, okay? Happy now?’
Mum lifts the shopping bags she’s brought with us onto the bed between them. ‘Thought as much. Here, it’s just a few bits I thought you might need. It’s all right, you don’t owe me anything. We’ve all been there, Teen. I only want to help.’
For once, Tina seems lost for words. She swallows then nods, her fingers pressed to her lips.
‘Now let Amy come to us so you can start job hunting.’
Tina chucks Amy’s rucksack across the bed. ‘Go on then, before I change my mind.’
Amy and I grin at each other and hug. Now we can get back to reminding Cole that it’s me he loves.
* * *
Tonight it’s my turn on the floor. Amy and I chat in hushed voices, so Mum doesn’t have to call out for us to keep it down. We share a bottle of beer I found in the fridge.
‘Good to have you back.’ I finish it off and chuck it in the bin under my desk.
Amy leans over the edge of the bed and gazes at me. ‘Great to be back.’
I switch on my laptop. I need to find a new job. I’ve always wanted to be a travel writer, but I don’t know if I can do it. I got my English A levels – it was always my strongest subject at school – but I’d need to build up a lot of money to pay for travelling and an English degree. My savings are dwindling now I’m not working.
Amy hugs her pillow. ‘Do you think he’ll come back to you?’
‘I don’t know. He told me – us – to stop following them.’
‘I bet he misses you, though.’
‘Said he does but now he’s not answering my calls or texts.’
‘I bet he wishes he hadn’t got her knocked up, though. If it’s even his. Did you suggest it might not be?’
‘Not yet. I’ll save it for when the time is right. He must have doubts too with her being away so long. Why go back to her?’ I flop back on the bed and stare at the ceiling. I Snapchat Cole that I love him and send a selfie of me surrounded by lit-up hearts. ‘How can I make him want to be with me again?’
‘Tell him you can’t live without him? That if you can’t see him, you’ll kill yourself?’ She grins, her crooked teeth shine in the half-light. I give her a death stare.
I push myself up, onto my elbow, and search for new jobs in Bedford. I click on the first link for casual posts, stacking shelves, washing dishes or waitressing. ‘I need him to notice me like it’s the first time again. I mean, really know what he’s lost, what he’s given up for that mousy wife of his. He needs to understand that he doesn’t have to sacrifice the rest of his life, his happiness.’
‘Let’s go to the market tomorrow and buy you the glitziest dress for your birthday.’ Amy’s practically drooling at the prospect of tarting me up.
I sit up fully, imagining Cole being dazzled by me.
Mum shouts up for us to quieten down. The doorbell rings followed by the faint hum of voices.
‘Okay, we’ll go shopping tomorrow. Lingerie first, got to be matching. You don’t think he’s back sleeping with her, do you?’
Amy shakes her head. ‘With her looking like a barrel? Don’t be daft. When he sees you, he’ll be begging for it.’
Long after Amy has fallen asleep, I’m still awake flicking through Instagram, checking for any reactions to the comments I’ve left. The mouse has said nothing. Why hasn’t she blocked me? Maybe she’s onto me this time so I close that profile and start a new one. I comment on her latest post then look through my own feed at my favourite celebs and influencers, Kylie Jenner and Selena Gomez.
Every now and then giggles, shrieks and the low hum of soul music filter up from downstairs. I lift my pillow and spy through the hole in the floorboards. All I can
see is the tanned hairy male shin at the end of Mum’s bed. The man’s foot is moving in slow circles. I cover the hole up and press my hands over my ears.
Chapter Thirty-Eight
27 July 2018
Scarlett
There’s a lightness in my chest as we walk along the high street the next morning. Mum is chatting on about baking a beetroot chocolate cake and catching up on the soaps because she’s staying in without company for a change. Amy’s a good listener. I don’t mind her doing that job for me now and again. If we were a few years younger Mum would probably be holding her hand.
I push between them and link my arm through Mum’s so Amy is forced to take a step back and walk a bit behind us along the pavement. I feel guilty for doing that so I let go of Mum and twist round. But Amy isn’t there. She’s a few steps back and has stopped outside a restaurant. I wonder if she’s so annoyed with me she can’t bear to walk with us. I suggest to Mum to go on ahead, we’ll catch up with her at home.
‘Are you okay?’ I ask, walking up to Amy. ‘I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to block you out.’
Amy grins and tips her head towards a piece of paper stuck to the restaurant window.
WAITRESS WANTED
*Bar Experience Necessary*
Please APPLY WITHIN or send CV to:
[email protected]
I do a double take then peer through the glass, cupping my eyes to block out the light. It’s her all right, Cole’s wife. She’s standing by the till near the entrance, talking to a customer. Is she really in charge? I thought she was a subservient little mouse to Cole, the alpha lion. I haven’t seen anything about this on her social media. I hug Amy. Sometimes she is so utterly brilliant, I think I’ll burst with pride.
The Face At the Window Page 13
