The Face At the Window

by Ruby Speechley

  Moments later, I am out of the door and merging into the crowd in the precinct. Parents and children gathered around the merry-go-round are so taken up with the ride, they don’t notice me disappear into the market. I take the opportunity to skirt round them and straight down the road to the multi-storey car park nearest the main shopping centre. Who knew taking a baby could be so easy?

  Chapter Sixty-Nine

  13 August 2018

  Scarlett

  ‘Did you see anyone look at you on the way out?’ Amy asks when she meets me in the car park.

  ‘No, I kept my head down. You know we’ll be caught on CCTV, though.’

  ‘Yes. but hopefully not for a while.’ She climbs in the back seat next to baby Thomas, thankfully asleep in the pram car seat.

  ‘Once they’ve gone through the whole tape for today, they’ll realize it’s us.’

  ‘Cole will have confessed about me by then.’

  For a moment we freeze at the sound of police sirens.

  Hurriedly, I fold up the pram and lift it into the boot. I pass the bag of baby paraphernalia to Amy. As I join them in the back again, I check out of the windows. We’re tucked away in a corner on the open roof level so there’s hardly anyone around. The baby wakes up just as I shut the door with a gentle click. He lays there quietly staring up at us, occasionally kicking his feet and lifting his arms. I bend down and sniff the air around him. A strong urine smell knocks me back. I glance at Amy. I don’t fancy changing him on my own. She pulls out the new pack of nappies, wipes and disposable changing mats, and between us we clean him up. Hopefully there will be as few cars as possible passing by and noticing us, especially on a Monday. As long as we don’t have a screaming baby on our hands, I think we’ll be okay.

  Once Thomas is clean, I tear open the box of first baby milk. Six pre-sterilized ready-to-feed bottles of formula with six teats. I shake one up. Amy holds him in her arms and feeds him. He guzzles it down. I climb into the front and switch the radio on low. The clock beams the time at me. It’s twenty-two minutes since I left the supermarket. My pulse is thudding in my head. Gemma will be frantic by now, searching up and down the high street for me and her precious boy, calling out, ‘Where’s my baby?’ screaming my name, stopping anyone who has a pram to check it’s not hers, panting breathlessly as she pulls and pushes these strangers when she can’t find him, as though it’s their fault he’s gone missing. I try to block out these running images in my head and focus on why we’re doing this. How crazed Cole will be when he finds out. He’ll be forced to admit to his wife that he was in a relationship with me. I won’t let him pretend it didn’t happen, that I wasn’t important to him.

  ‘She’d have called Cole by now, wouldn’t she?’ I ask. ‘He’ll be panicking, trying to phone me. Sorry that he lied to me and treated me like dirt.’

  ‘She was trying to call someone when I left. I guess it would have been you she tried first.’

  I dread to think how many missed calls there will be from her. Nausea sweeps through me. This is so much harder than I imagined. Maybe I could drop her a quick message to say we got held up somewhere, just so she knows Thomas is okay?

  I take out the new mobile and tap into someone’s open WiFi signal. It’s coming up to 3.29 p.m. I click on the BBC website and read:

  New item filed two minutes ago: BABY SNATCHED FROM BEDFORD SUPERMARKET.

  My heart crashes against my chest. I almost can’t bear to scroll down, but I have to. The story is so new but completely overblown in just a few sentences.

  Gemma Adams, a new mother from Bedford, left her newborn baby in the care of her employee outside Sainsbury’s supermarket this afternoon. Both employee and baby have since been reported missing. It is believed the young woman, Rosie Symonds, which is not believed to be her real name, offered to look after the crying infant while Gemma finished her shopping. Gemma maintains that Rosie is a kind and trustworthy individual who would not harm an infant.

  Baby Thomas, who went missing in his pram around 2.55 p.m., is just five days old. The girl, Rosie, agreed to mind Thomas and wait outside the supermarket with him, but when Gemma couldn’t find them, she became distressed and passers-by helped her to look for them, but they could not be located. The police are concerned for the welfare of both baby Thomas and Rosie Symonds and are asking the public to come forward with any information that may lead to their whereabouts.

  I pass the phone to Amy. I didn’t think they’d find out it’s not my real name so quickly. The sun has moved round, it’s even hotter than earlier in the day. A beam of light is shining through the front windscreen, a celestial finger pointing at us to let everyone know where we are. Thomas starts to grumble. Amy passes him to me so she can read the news on my tablet. I’ve never held a baby before. I turn the radio up and rock him in my arms. The movement settles him down so I carry on rocking him back and forth about fifty times until I think my arms will drop off.

  ‘The police are after us.’ Amy puts the tablet down and I hand Thomas back to her.

  ‘But Gemma knows he’s safe with me.’ I check on Twitter and we watch the live news feed.

  ‘Police have released CCTV footage of Rosie Symonds walking at pace, pushing Thomas in the pram towards the exit and out of the supermarket. Detective Inspector Rachel Read is with me now. What can the public do to help?

  ‘“Although we can’t see her face clearly in the footage, partly because of the large sunglasses she’s wearing, we’re asking for anyone who recognizes anything about this woman to come forward. She is aged twenty-one, with mid-length blonde hair, slim build and approximately five feet seven tall. Any members of the public who saw this woman pushing a distinctive green BABYZEN pram should contact the police as soon as possible. Time is of the essence in cases such as this. We’re in what we call ‘the golden hour’, the first hour after anyone goes missing, which is when we’re most likely to find the person, child or in this case, baby, alive and well.”

  ‘Thank you, Inspector Read. Let’s go over live to our reporter who is outside the Adams’ family home in Bedford.

  ‘Oh God, we’ve only borrowed him! She said I could take him for a walk. She knows he’s with me. I’m not going to hurt him.’

  ‘Not how they see it, I suppose, because you didn’t wait where you said you would.’

  ‘Great. We need to sit tight.’

  ‘Do you think Cole’s been told yet?’

  ‘I hope so. I only wanted him to suffer.’

  I reach to the passenger seat for a two-litre bottle of water. Even though the window is open, the car is stuffy because there’s no breeze. ‘We need to save most of this, I’m not sure when it’ll be safe to get out of here.’

  Amy scrolls down the tablet and finds another news report. They’re repeating the same information in every outlet, which means they don’t have anything else to go on at the moment. Or if they do, they’re not saying so. One reporter is outside Cole’s house. I picture him strolling along the road with his bottle of wine in a plastic bag, not having a clue what’s going on. I want them to show his reaction, I need to see him affected by this otherwise none of it is worth it.

  Thomas starts crying again. I suggest another bottle, but Amy lifts him up and gently pats him on the back. He lets out a burp and soon after he closes his eyes.

  ‘Where did you learn to do that?’ I’m in awe.

  We turn back to the news. ‘The police spokesperson says the parents are distraught but will be making an appeal for Thomas’s safe return in the next hour or so. They’re asking for Rosie to come forward as soon as possible.’

  Amy and I look at each other. I wonder if Cole has named me as prime suspect yet. Will he have worked out that I’m the person who’s been working for his wife? Who fed his cat while he was away? But he knows that as soon as he gives them my real name, they will start looking into why I’ve done this. He’ll have to explain to Gemma and the police who I am and how he knows me. With any luck, it will ruin him.
/>   Chapter Seventy

  13 August 2018

  Scarlett

  ‘Hey, do you know what? They’ve still only got this down as one person being with Thomas. Why don’t you go back to your mum’s, then you’ll be right out of it.’ I check the rear-view mirror. There’s no one around. We’re only a short walk from Sainsbury’s and I’m hoping they won’t think of looking in car parks for a while as I was on foot.

  ‘What – and leave you here to face this on your own?’ Amy’s face crumples.

  ‘You’ve got time to get away. You don’t need to get into trouble for me, you’ve done enough already.’

  ‘No, I won’t do that. We’re in this together. You’ve always helped me.’

  ‘But his beef is with me not you. Save yourself. It won’t be long before they track us down.’

  ‘No. I’m staying.’

  I shake a new bottle of milk from the box, ready for when Thomas wakes up.

  We wait for the next news bulletin. We’ll need to go easy on how much we use the phone because there is no way of charging it up unless we start the car up and I don’t want to draw attention to us. I have one battery pack as back-up, but it will only get us through a few hours at most.

  Thomas wakes up crying, I chuck the throw over the back seat and Amy leans into it while she feeds him. I don’t want her to get in trouble for me, but I am not going to lie, I’m grateful she’s stayed. I’m not sure I’d cope with a baby on my own.

  ‘It’s gone 4 p.m., past their so-called golden hour.’

  I switch on the pay-as-you-go mobile and wonder if Mum has listened to the news yet. She’ll be one of those mothers pulled up close to the TV screen so as not to miss a word, tissue in hand. I wish I could tell her not to worry.

  I click on a new update on Sky.

  ‘Was this woman delivering the baby into the hands of a man seen loitering outside the shop?’

  They show a CCTV clip of a man smoking a cigarette, leaning against a lamppost outside Sainsbury’s. Then he’s checking around him, moving position in the same spot as though waiting for someone. When I stride out of the shop pushing the pram, he appears to stub out his cigarette and go off in the same direction as me.

  ‘Shit,’ Amy says.

  ‘What? It’s good they’re barking up the wrong tree.’

  Amy shows me Cole’s cloned Facebook page to see how many of his friends have liked it. Over fifty. Quite a few. There are loads of likes and funny comments for the photos of him as a kid. The baby has finished his feed and is wide awake and seems content.

  ‘We could post something about the baby – him wondering why someone has targeted him. See if any of his friends can guess?’

  ‘Have a look on his original page first, see if there’s anything about it.’

  He’s posted in the last twenty minutes in large shouty text.

  OUR NEWBORN BABY THOMAS WAS TAKEN FROM GEMMA THIS AFTERNOON WHILE SHE WAS IN THE SHOPS!!! CAN YOU FUCKING BELIEVE IT? PLEASE, IF ANY OF YOU KNOW WHO THIS WOMAN IS – ROSIE SYMONDS – THEN PLEASE TELL ME OR GEMMA OR THE POLICE AS SOON AS POSSIBLE SO WE CAN GET THOMAS BACK SAFELY. IF THIS SICKO IS READING THIS MESSAGE, YOU’RE TEARING US UP HERE, PLEASE BRING HIM BACK SAFE AND SOUND. (Please share this message far and wide. Link below to news story).

  I type a new post on his cloned Facebook page:

  Our baby is missing and it’s all my fault – do you think Gemma will ever forgive me?!

  ‘Good one,’ Amy says. I switch the phone off and rummage around in our bags for something to eat. Everything with chocolate in it has half melted. We open all the windows an inch or two, then lock the doors and settle down for a nap.

  Amy and I sleep sitting up either side of Thomas in his car seat.

  At ten minutes to five, the vibrating phone alarm wakes us. We move to the front seats without disturbing Thomas who remains asleep in the back. Someone in a car on the level below us is playing loud Bob Marley music. The beat to ‘No Woman, No Cry’ is both soothing and uplifting. Amy is being a proper mother hen checking on Thomas over her shoulder every few minutes. We decide that if he’s not awake in half an hour, we’ll gently rouse him for his next feed. The last thing we need is a screaming baby.

  Amy switches on the tablet for the early evening news. The missing baby is the lead story. The reporter is at the news conference where Cole and Gemma sit behind a huge table looking haggard. My God, this has gone way too far. I didn’t mean to hurt her like this. And he’s acting like he doesn’t know what’s going on. They’re not sitting that close or holding hands as I would have expected under these circumstances. Alongside them sits a very upright chief inspector in front of hordes of press. The camera flashes seem to disorientate Gemma. She holds her arm up in front of her face.

  I remember when I was younger and hearing about the case of the toddler who went missing while on holiday with her parents. How the mother seemed stiff and emotionless. Far too controlled so that people pointed the finger at her. These journalists will be watching their every move just as carefully, waiting for one of them to put a foot wrong, gauging the possibility that one or both of them is guilty of harming their own baby, making out it’s been abducted, when in reality there is no third party involved – it’s all measured on a scale of how distraught they appear.

  Gemma’s eyes are small and red as though they’ve sunk into her head. She’s clutching a small blue rabbit we’ve seen in Thomas’s cot through the nursery monitor. Cole comes across as frosty, angry, shifty in his seat. He still hasn’t shaved. The skin on his nose is a comical red, burnt and peeling from the sun.

  The inspector runs through the facts of the case, his voice monotone, still only citing one woman as a possible suspect.

  Gemma stands up, glances at Thomas’s picture behind her, then takes a deep breath.

  ‘Our darling baby boy…’ Her voice breaks. She clears her throat and starts again. ‘Our darling baby boy Thomas was taken from me…’ Her chin trembles, and she stares at the page. Nick touches her elbow and helps her sit down. He stands up and takes the piece of paper and starts reading.

  ‘Our son Thomas is out there somewhere with a girl called Rosie, except that’s not her real name. I don’t know why she tricked Gemma and didn’t bring him back when she promised to. Gemma made the mistake of trusting her.’

  Gemma stands up again and nods at Nick who hands the paper back to her. She places it on the table and speaks without looking at it.

  ‘Wherever you are, Rosie, whatever the reason for taking our baby, please, please bring him back to us, please just bring him home, safe and… unharmed,’ she sobs, covering her mouth with the back of her hand. She glances down at the piece of paper then up at the journalists.

  She takes a deep breath, tears running down her face.

  ‘I’m begging you, Rosie, please bring our baby back.’ Her voice is shrill now. ‘We miss him so much. We love you, Thomas.’ She buries her face in her hands.

  Nick stands again and links his arm through hers. He passes her a hanky from his pocket and they sit down together. A long moment passes before the inspector speaks. He points to the pixilated blown-up photo of me, my sunglasses obscuring my face. Fear shoots through my veins. I’m going to be in so much trouble.

  Cole puts his arm around her shoulders. His other hand covers his eyes as he breaks down.

  ‘Crocodile tears. He must know it’s us.’ Amy and I nod at each other, then fix back on the screen. One of the reporters asks if there’s anyone that could wish them or their child any harm. If they have any enemies. They both shake their heads and say no. Cole is more hesitant. He looks right down the camera, as though he’s looking straight at me like he did at my party, with the same lying eyes. I shiver. The camera cuts away.

  Chapter Seventy-One

  13 August 2018

  Scarlett

  It’s stuffy in the car, even though the windows on both sides are open.

  ‘Do you think the baby’s okay? He’s been asleep for
ages.’

  ‘I don’t know.’ I get up on my knees and lean between the two front seats. His eyes are shut, hair sweaty. It smells like his nappy is either full or has leaked. I touch one of his podgy legs. It’s cold and clammy. That can’t be right.

  ‘He feels weird.’

  ‘What do you mean, weird?’ She clambers through to the back.

  ‘Cool skin, but sweaty.’

  She touches his forehead. ‘His head is drenched.’

  ‘Shouldn’t we wake him up?’

  ‘Some babies sleep a lot. It’s really hot in here.’

  ‘Gemma goes in the nursery every few hours to feed him. Maybe we’ve not fed him enough?’

  ‘What, you’ve kept an eye on them at night?’ Her eyes widen.

  ‘Only if I couldn’t sleep. I was curious.’

  She hauls herself up and peers in the bag on the parcel shelf. ‘He needs clean clothes and a clean sheet.’

  ‘We haven’t got any clean sheets.’

  ‘A spare T-shirt or muslin cloth will do.’

  I scratch around in our bag of stuff and pull out a spare muslin square.

  Amy lifts Thomas up. He’s floppy but his eyes are open. His cry is low and grizzly.

  ‘I’ll open some more milk.’ I’m more than happy for her to take charge. I don’t know the first thing about babies.

  ‘Open that packet of baby wipes so I can freshen him up. He stinks.’ She undresses him and wipes down his peachy skin all over then puts a nappy on him and drapes the clean muslin around his body. He’s not looking his usual bright self.

  ‘What’s wrong with him?’ I hand her the milk. He turns his head away at first, then roots around for the teat. Once he’s found it, he guzzles like mad.

  ‘Maybe he’s a bit dehydrated.’

  ‘He’s not going to die, is he?’ I press my thumping forehead.