The Other Daughter (ARC)

by Shalini Boland

  I can hardly believe it when I see one of the small top-light windows on the ground floor is open. It’s part of a larger opaque glass window that I’m guessing is the Morrises’ bathroom. I walk up to the dark glass, take my torch out of my pocket and stand up on my tiptoes. Shining the torch through the small open window, I’m faced with the very same bathroom that I went into last week. I allow myself a small smile of relief. The open part of the window is far too small for me to crawl through, but at least I know that the window I’m about to break will lead into the Morrises’ flat, and not some neighbour’s who might be at home.

  I pull on my gloves and take a fragment of ceramic spark plug out of my pocket. It’s something I researched on YouTube – how to break a window quickly and safely. The video is supposedly to give people a way to get out of their car if they ever get trapped – but apparently it works just as well on any window. Anyway, I’m about to find out.

  I stand back and throw the shard of ceramic at the window, gasping as, with a crunching sound, the whole pane breaks into hundreds of spiderweb cracks. I pull a folded bedsheet out of my bag and drape it down through the open top light, dropping the material as best I can so it lies on the floor in the bathroom beneath the window. Then, I wrap my torch in a small towel and use it to gently push the cracked glass out of its frame and onto the sheet below. The majority of it comes out easily, in random sized chunks, luckily not making too much noise as it lands on the sheet.

  I have to admit, I wasn’t at all sure this was going to work. I had no opportunity to test out the method beforehand so I’m both relieved and nervous that I’ve actually managed to do it. Before attempting to climb through, I nip back along the building to glance out onto the road and check that the sound of breaking glass hasn’t brought any of the neighbours running.

  All is quiet and still. Just the sound of distant traffic from the main road beyond.

  When all the pieces of glass are out of the lower frame, I unwrap my torch and lay the towel on the sill before hoisting myself up and through the window, landing on top of the glass fragments below with a noisy crunch. I freeze and cock my ear, listening. There’s no sound from within. I exhale and tiptoe across the bathroom floor towards the door. The hall beyond lies in darkness. I switch on my torch, walk through and take a moment to get my bearings. The front door is to my right and Bella’s bedroom is all the way along the hall at the end, to my left. That’s where I’m headed.

  My heart is thudding double-time now. I’ve actually done it. I’ve broken in, and I’ve also broken the law – something I’ve never done before. Something I never thought I’d ever do. My biggest regret is that when the children get home and discover the broken window, they might be scared by the fact that someone’s been in their house. They might have sleepless nights worrying about the break-in. Unfortunately, I can’t avoid that happening, as there’s no way for me to reassure them.

  Bella’s door is firmly closed. I grip the handle and push open the door. I shine the torch around the small space and see that there are two beds in here. Amy and Bella must share a room. I hope that’s not going to be a problem for me.

  My torch beam rests on a pretty white dressing table littered with hair products, make-up and jewellery. Then I spot Bella’s green hairbrush. That’s what I’ve come for. I move carefully across the floor, stepping over discarded clothes, empty plates and tumblers. Directing the torchlight down onto the brush, I heave a sigh of relief when I see that its bristles are thick with Bella’s dark hair – exactly what I need. Amy must have her own brush, because I can’t see any of her blonde hairs in this one, thank goodness.

  I fumble in my pocket for the Ziploc bag and open it up with my gloved fingers. Then I take Bella’s hairbrush, pull out several clumps of the hair and shove them into the bag.

  Okay, I need to get out of here now. I creep back across her bedroom, deciding to try going out through the front door. I don’t fancy climbing out over all that broken glass. I must already have some of it embedded in my shoes and coat, but it’s too dark to check myself. I’ll be so relieved when I’m out of here and back in my car. Hopefully, now I have some of Bella’s hair, I’ll finally be able to determine without a doubt whether or not she’s my daughter.

  The bedroom door has swung shut behind me, so I pull it open again and step into the hall, my torch in hand.

  ‘Kate?’ A gruff, croaky voice in front of me makes my blood turn to ice and my legs turn to jelly.

  It must be Shaun.

  With a shaking hand, I shove the Ziploc bag into my coat pocket and shine my torch straight ahead. Shaun is shielding his eyes from the beam and fumbling for the light switch on the wall.

  What should I do? What should I do?

  I can’t overpower him. I should run before the light comes on, but my body is frozen in place. He’s blocking my route to the front door and to the bathroom – the only two means of escape, unless I risk running into another room and hoping I can open another window. If I don’t move now, I’ll be trapped in here with a criminal. Possibly a dangerous one. I don’t even want to think about what he might do.

  The overhead light blinds me for a second until I refocus and see a dishevelled Shaun standing before me, dressed in a T-shirt and crumpled pyjama bottoms. I’m thrown for a moment – he looks ill. His eyes are bloodshot, his chin is a mass of patchy stubble, and there’s a glaze of sweat across his pallid face.

  ‘You…’ he says drowsily.

  ‘I’m-I’m sorry!’

  He blinks. ‘What are you doing here? Is Kate back? Are you here with Kate and the kids?’ He looks around wildly.

  ‘Are you okay?’ I ask, sidestepping his questions. He really doesn’t look well. I’m trying to work out whether I could manage to duck beneath his arm and make it to the front door. But what if he grabs me? What if he really is dangerous? And even if I’m able to get away, he could still call the police, have me arrested.

  ‘God, I feel like shit.’ He blinks and cringes against the light. ‘I’ve got flu. Don’t feel good at all. Why are you here?’

  ‘You look terrible. You should go back to bed.’ This is weird. He’s so out of it that I could probably leave and he’d think he’d hallucinated me.

  ‘You! What are you doing here?’ Shaun barks at me this time, suddenly more alert than a second ago. He wipes the back of his hand across his clammy forehead. ‘Stop shining that thing in my face!’

  ‘I’m sorry.’ I turn off the torch and take a small step back. ‘I… I left my wallet here when I dropped Bella off the other day.’ It’s a crap excuse, but it’s all I can come up with.

  ‘How did you get in?’

  ‘I knocked but no one replied. So I saw an open window…’

  ‘You broke in through a window? Kate was right about you.’ He staggers a little and puts his hand against the wall to steady himself.

  ‘I’m sorry. Look, I’ve got my wallet now. I’ll go.’

  ‘You can’t just come into our property like that. It’s breaking and entering.’

  ‘I know, I know. I’m sorry.’ And now I’m stressing about the broken window. About how I’m not going to be able to bluff my way out of it. He’ll see it after I’ve gone and know I’m responsible. What the hell am I going to do? ‘Look, Shaun, I did something I shouldn’t have.’

  ‘You need to go. I don’t feel well. It’s really hot in here. Are you hot?’

  ‘I’ll go, I’ll go in a sec, but please just listen.’

  Shaun coughs, sinks down onto the hall floor and leans back against the wall.

  ‘Shaun, I’m sorry, but I broke a window to get in.’

  ‘What?’ He’s suddenly alert again. His eyes widening and then closing as though he’s in pain.

  ‘The bathroom window, it’s broken. I’ll pay for it. I’ll sort it out. But please don’t tell Kate I was here. She really doesn’t like me.’

  Shaun nods and gives a short laugh. ‘I know.’

  ‘What did she say to you a
bout me?’ I ask.

  ‘Did you say you broke a window? This wall is so nice and cool.’ He presses his cheek against the paintwork.

  ‘Don’t tell Kate I was here.’ I reach into my pocket and pull out my purse, taking out a ten and a twenty – that’s all that’s in there apart from a couple of ten-pence pieces. ‘Here.’ I thrust the notes into his hand. ‘That’s all I’ve got on me but let me know if I owe you any more for the damage.’

  ‘I don’t want your money,’ he snarls, trying to throw the notes back at me. They flutter down onto his legs. ‘I don’t want your charity!’

  ‘It’s not charity. I’m trying to pay for—’

  ‘I don’t want your money! Take it back.’

  ‘But the window’s broken.’

  ‘I can fix a window. I’m not useless.’

  ‘Okay. Look, Shaun, I’m going to go now, okay. Do you need any help getting up?’

  ‘Get out, Rachel. Don’t come here again.’

  ‘I won’t. Please don’t tell Kate I was here.’ I sidle past, stepping over his outstretched legs, wondering whether he’ll even remember this encounter. Wondering if I’ll get a visit from the police or a call from Kate. I open the front door and leave the Morrises’ flat.

  The cold night air jolts me back to reality and I’m shivering from the shock of it all. The chances are that Shaun will tell Kate what happened and then she’ll know for sure that I’m on to her. What if they move away and take Bella with them? What if I lose my daughter for a second time? I can’t let that happen. I just can’t.

  28

  Then

  Catriona takes refuge in the glitzy hotel bathroom for a few minutes. She avoids looking at herself in the mirror. Instead, she goes straight into a cubicle and locks the door, sits on the loo seat and exhales. How did she end up here? At the funeral of the man she loved?

  Darren’s parents paid for it all – the casket, the hotel, the catering. Everything. They live up north, in Middlesbrough, and it’s been almost a year since she’s seen them. Darren had a falling out with one of his sisters when she accused him of not doing enough after their dad had a heart attack last year. His mum and dad took the sister’s side over Darren’s, and Catriona had been angry on Darren’s behalf. She had counselled him against making up with them. Said they were out of order. That it was impossible for him to be there all the time while he had work commitments and a young family to look after. But now she feels bad about that. At least it meant they hadn’t seen Grace for ages, since she was little more than a baby.

  Darren’s family felt terribly guilty about the rift, so they saw to all of the funeral arrangements. Insisted upon it. They drove down to London after they heard the news. Then drove Catriona and Grace back up with them a week later. And they’ve been taking care of Catriona like she’s one of the family. It suited Catriona to have the funeral away from London, and they’re doting on Grace. Darren was their only son. His parents and two sisters are beside themselves with grief and guilt. So now Grace is everything to them. Their only tangible link to their son and brother.

  She knows it’s wrong, but Catriona didn’t invite any of their London friends to come to the funeral. She couldn’t risk them seeing Grace and asking questions. Consequently, Darren’s family are the only people here today whom she actually knows. Catriona realises she can’t hide away in the loos all afternoon, but the funeral at the crematorium earlier was brutal. Watching Darren’s casket slide beyond the curtain. Knowing where it was heading – to be incinerated. She has the fleeting thought that he’s with Grace in heaven. But she can’t think that, because if she does then she’ll have to think about the other Grace. Her mind blurs. She shakes away the image, blinks and stands. Tells herself she only has to endure an hour or two more before this is over.

  She attempts to smooth the wrinkles from her black dress, but they refuse to fall out. Instead, they remain stubbornly creased in thick black folds across her thighs and belly. The material is cheap, shiny. She’ll probably get rid of the outfit after today.

  Back in the vast reception lounge, Catriona feels lost for a moment until she spies Grace who, upon seeing her, detaches herself from Darren’s dad, runs across the patterned carpet and throws herself at Catriona, wrapping her arms around her legs.

  ‘Hello, baby. Have you been looking after Nanny and Grandad?’ Catriona crouches down and kisses her daughter’s cheek.

  Grace nods.

  Catriona is amazed and thankful that her little girl only had a couple of days of tears after Darren’s accident. The worst of her fears have been at night, when she sobs for her mummy. But once Grace is awake and being cuddled by Catriona, she’s perfectly happy again. If perhaps a little subdued. She also seems to fully accept that Catriona is now her mother. She answers to the name Grace easily. It almost scares Catriona how smoothly the child has adapted. But whatever the reason, Catriona is grateful.

  After that day, she only allowed herself to watch the local news once. Grace’s face flashed up on the TV screen, making Catriona feel physically sick; only she went by a different name. A name that Catriona doesn’t want to think about. They filmed her white-faced parents putting out an appeal. There was also a grainy piece of security footage showing a figure wearing a hoodie, leading Grace away from the play area. But it was impossible to tell whether the person was a woman or a man.

  Catriona worried that the story was going to take hold nationally – that it would capture the nation’s hearts and she would be discovered. But a recent terrorist attack eclipsed all other stories and dominated the media. The local story of the missing girl soon faded, never even making it onto the national news. Catriona was amazed by the lack of coverage, but after some research she discovered that thousands of children go missing in the UK every year – one every three minutes according to police figures – and hardly any make the national headlines.

  Catriona was surprised that her car wasn’t traced. That it wasn’t picked up on a security camera. That the police didn’t come knocking on her door. She wasn’t careful at all. She was reckless. None of it was planned. That whole day was a nightmarish blur. Even though she’s had to speak to the police and hospital staff about Darren’s accident, no one has mentioned a single thing to do with Gracie. Catriona has kept her indoors, and the trip up north has helped remove them from the situation. No one suspects anything out of the ordinary.

  ‘Catriona, love, how are you holding up?’ Darren’s mum comes and puts an arm around her and squeezes tightly, enveloping Catriona and Grace in a soft, squishy cuddle.

  Catriona sniffs. ‘I still can’t believe it. Darren was the love of my life, you know.’

  ‘He worshipped you and Gracie. If only we hadn’t fallen out. We should have come down to visit you all sooner. It’s just, with Geoff being poorly and our silly argument with…’

  ‘You can’t beat yourself up about it, Pat. You had to take care of Geoff after the heart attack. At least Darren managed to make it up to see you at the end of the summer.’

  Pat lets out a long breath. ‘Thank goodness. But we were going to ask you to come and stay this Christmas. It was going to be…’ She breaks off and starts rooting around in the pocket of her jacket. ‘Need another tissue. Shoulda brought a box of them with me.’

  Catriona passes her a packet from her bag.

  ‘Thanks, love.’ Pat fishes out a clean tissue and blows her nose. ‘It was going to be our way of making it up to you. All the family together, with the cousins all playing, having a laugh. What am I going to do without my boy? I can’t believe he’s gone.’ She holds the tissue to her mouth for a moment, trying to stem her emotion. ‘Will you still come… for Christmas? Say you will. We need you here. With us.’

  ‘That sounds good,’ Catriona replies hesitantly, unwilling to commit.

  ‘Better still, you should stay. What’s the point in you going back? Thank goodness we have this little angel.’ Pat swings Grace up into her arms. ‘She’s a beauty, isn’t she? Growing u
p so fast. And she’s starting to look so much like her daddy. It’s the eyes.’

  Catriona nods, swallowing, thankful that it’s been such a long time since Grace’s grandparents last saw her.

  ‘Seriously though, Catriona, I wish you’d take us up on our offer to move up to Middlesbrough permanently. We’ll find you a pretty flat near the house. We’ll all look after you. You wouldn’t want for anything. Gracie would have all her family around her. It would be so good for both of you. You like it up here, don’t you?’

  Tempting though it sounds, Catriona knows that it’s too risky. What if Grace starts talking about the things she remembers? A quick visit with her grandparents every few months is one thing, but seeing them day in, day out – that’s just asking for trouble. ‘It’s lovely of you to offer, Pat, but I’m a London girl. All my friends are there, you know?’

  ‘I just thought with your mum and dad gone… wouldn’t you like us to look after you both? I know you two weren’t married, but I still feel like I’m your mother-in-law. You can treat me like a second mum. I know I can never replace your own mother – God rest her soul – but…’ She breaks off, tears trailing down her cheeks.

  Catriona takes her hand and gives it a squeeze. ‘Come and sit down, Pat.’ She leads her over to an empty table and they sit next to one another on the red faux-velvet chairs, Grace snuggling into Pat’s sizeable lap. If only life could be as simple as her and Grace staying here with Pat and Geoff – letting the kindly couple look after them both. But it’s an impossible fantasy.

  In fact, she and Grace won’t be able to stay in their flat either. She can’t keep any ties to her current life. There are too many people who knew Grace before – neighbours, pre-school, the doctor’s surgery, friends. At least they won’t think it strange – her moving away – not after what’s happened with Darren. It’ll be understandable, really. No one will blame her. She regrets that their disappearance will break Pat’s heart but she’ll let Darren’s parents know she’s leaving London – of course she will.