by Jill Childs
I saw at once. He might manage to pull Kate from the ledge but, if he did, they’d be abandoning Lucy. The wind snatched away my breath as I watched. Past them, far below, the rocks glistened as the waves, whipped by the storm, crashed and foamed.
He shouted again. ‘Lift her!’
Kate clung to the rock with one hand. Her knuckles blanched. Her face was a mask of fury. For some moments, she didn’t move to help Lucy, just strained to reach for Dominic’s hand to pull herself up.
When she realised that he wasn’t going to give in and save her first, she started screaming at him. ‘How could you? I covered for you. I protected you. She’s right, isn’t she? You murdered Caroline. That’s her body, isn’t it, that washed up?’
Then, a minute later, her tone became more wheedling. ‘I won’t tell. You can trust me. Just give me your hand, for God’s sake. Please.’
The words swam up through the wind. Dominic’s face was hard and closed. He crawled forward and eased his chest further into empty space, over the cliff, extending his arm. His fingers grabbed at Lucy’s desperately waving hand, slippery with rainwater, and somehow got a grip on her wrist.
A chunk of stone near Lucy’s feet loosened and fell. The ledge had narrowed now to little more than a ridge.
‘It’s going! Please!’ Kate, panicking, flattened the front of her body against the rock.
Dominic managed to raise Lucy high enough with one hand to grab her arm with his other hand too. Slowly, painfully, she rose up the rockface.
‘No! Don’t leave me!’ Kate lifted her hands from the rock to grab at Lucy’s legs, trying to drag herself up with her. Lucy, feeling herself pulled, started to scream.
‘Let go of her!’ Dominic heaved, his face white, struggling to keep hold of his daughter.
Lucy came suddenly up with a rush. Once her upper body was level with the top of the cliff, I caught hold of her under the arms and helped to lift her clear, rolling backwards, dragging her onto solid ground. She collapsed against me, her arms limp, her pale, frightened face cold and wet against my neck.
‘It’s alright. You’re safe now. You’re safe, Lucy.’
She sobbed as I pulled off my coat and wrapped it round her, trying to warm her.
Dominic was already back at the cliff edge, his hair running with water, straining forward again, trying to reach into nothingness.
I set Lucy on the ground and crept closer to see.
The remains of the ledge that Kate had been standing on had given way as she’d grappled with Lucy. Now Kate had been forced lower, further down the rockface. She was balancing on her toes on a jagged spur, her body splayed, pressed into the bare rock, her fingers grasping at fissures. She didn’t look as if she could cling on much longer.
She tipped her head back, her eyes full of terror, and lifted her hand from the rock. As she did, her weight unbalanced her, drew her backwards and, in an instant, even as we watched, even as Dominic strained to reach her, she fell.
‘No!’ Dominic’s scream was taken by the wind.
It was the only sound.
Kate, her face a mask of shock, plummeted backwards, her hands grasping at empty air. Her body seemed to hang, shrinking with distance, then, finally, burst onto the rocks below. A moment later, a wave crashed over her, lifting her hair, making blonde streaks in the darkness. Her white blouse filled and gently undulated in the moving water.
Dominic collapsed, sobbing, on the grass, his shoulders heaving.
I drew away from him, lifted Lucy into my arms and ran, pulling the car keys from my bag.
My hands shook as I wrenched open the back door of the nanny car, lifted her out of my coat and into her car-seat, then fumbled to fasten the safety harness.
I was in the driver’s seat, doors locked, turning the key in the ignition when Dominic crashed against the side of the car. His face was wild, his hair dripping water.
‘Stop!’ His hands banged on the window. ‘What are you doing?’
Behind me, Lucy started to sob.
The engine burst into life and I snatched at the handbrake and pulled away across the drive. He staggered and fell back along the side of the car. A low mist was rolling in from the sea and I sat forward in the driving seat, peering into the gloom, then trying to see in the mirror if he were coming after us. Nothing. Only gathering darkness.
I snapped on the windscreen wipers, then the headlights and raced down the drive onto the unmade track. The wheels splashed up mud and skidded as I took it at speed. Lucy screamed.
‘It’s alright, Lucy.’
She seemed too frantic even to hear me.
I tried to steady my breathing and ease my grip on the steering wheel. Ahead, the headlights swung across the trees. Trunks and bushes gleamed, ghostly, as they came suddenly to life, looming out of the mist when I was almost upon them, only to disappear again. The inside of the windscreen was clouding and I lowered my window an inch. Chill, salt air rushed in, carrying the low boom of waves.
I strained ahead in the darkness, every nerve tense, trying to make out the sudden bends ahead. It was a small, light car and each time we hit an exposed stretch between the trees, the wind rocked it, forcing me to tighten my hold on the wheel. I pressed harder on the accelerator and the car shuddered as the engine raced. We must be gaining on the village now. Another ten minutes and we’d reach the outskirts.
The fog was becoming solid now, making it almost impossible to see what lay ahead. I struggled to remember the pattern of houses along the road, to make out landmarks. There was nothing solid, nothing I could recognise, just shadows and endlessly shifting shapes.
In the mirror, Lucy’s eyes were huge, her arms huddled close round her body.
A sudden flash in the rear-view mirror blinded me. I reached up and twisted the mirror to change the angle, to push the reflected beams out of my eyes. A powerful car had emerged from the fog, approaching too fast and already too close. I couldn’t make out the model or colour, but I didn’t need to. Dominic. It must be. Giving chase. Just as I feared.
I’m frightened. They’re clever and manipulative. Caroline’s words came into my head. I can only guess what they might do. A car crash, perhaps. A freak accident. A stumble over the edge of the cliff. A boat capsizing at sea.
He was so close behind us now that his headlights lit the inside of our car. Lucy, cowering in her seat, pinned by the safety strap, started to whimper.
He’d never let her go. I knew that. But he had no right to her, after what he’d done. I owed Caroline more than that.
I gripped the steering wheel and tried to make out the sudden bends and twists ahead. His headlights, pressing through the car, flashed in the mirrors. Any closer and he’d hit us. My ears filled with my own hard breathing and the squeal of tyres as we took the bends, the two cars now only inches apart.
In a split second, my mirrors emptied, turning to black again. He’d swung out into the road, thundering alongside us. Sparks flew and the car veered toward the trees in a roaring scrape of metal as the side of his car grazed the side of my smaller one and rammed it off-course. My knuckles whitened as I struggled to hold the wheel steady and keep us on the road. In the back, Lucy let out a high-pitched cry.
I clung on, wrenching the wheel to keep it straight as he swerved again alongside us. We were almost out of the trees. The road would widen. A few more seconds. That was all.
‘It’s alright, Lucy!’ I called back. ‘Hang on.’
Dominic pulled ahead of me and veered across until he filled the road in front of us. His brake lights flashed red as he slowed. The gap between us shrank in a second. There was no room to swerve to left or right. If I didn’t slam on my own brakes, I’d go straight into the back of him.
I took a deep breath, then threw the steering wheel to the right, praying that my memory was accurate. It was a fine judgement, but the line of trees ended, as I’d thought it must, just as the car made its sharp turn, scraping the back corner of Dominic’s car as it veered off th
e track.
Rough ground opened up ahead. I flew from my seat as the car hit grass and was caught by the grip of the seatbelt. The wheels skidded and slid as I kept the accelerator on the floor.
I tried desperately to map in my mind the stretch of wasteland I’d crossed as I’d walked to and from the village. The fog was dense and the car bounced and bucked across the grass, wheels sticking, churning mud, then bounding free as the engine revved.
For a moment, I thought I’d done it. I thought we’d really lost him. Then his headlights flashed again in the mirrors. His engine was more powerful than mine, his car more stable. He too had swung off the track and was pursuing us over the grass. He’d be on us again very soon.
‘Mummy!’ Lucy cried out just as I saw it too. A tall, thin shape, dripping and spectral, loomed out of the fog. I pulled the car abruptly left, skidding out of its way. It was the gnarled tree, bowed by the force of the wind, that clung to the edge of the cliff. In the fog, it had the ghostly look of a person, its branches the shape of outstretched arms. Twigs clattered down the side of the car like fingers, blessing us with a farewell touch as we swerved hard left to avoid it.
A moment later, Dominic, careering after us, screamed straight past, his car at full throttle. But he was too slow to react, to realise we’d changed course.
I twisted back in my seat, watching, eyes wide in horror, helpless to save him, as his car flew off the edge of the cliff into nothingness. My last glimpse of the car was of his taillights flashing as they flew through the air, only to be swallowed a moment later by the mist.
I turned back, trying to regain control of our car which was skidding now through the mud, the bonnet pointing towards the road. I floored the brake just as the tree-line again appeared in front of us and we crashed head-on into a trunk.
The air bag exploded in my face, knocking me back into my seat. White light. A hissing, groaning noise, as if life were being squeezed from the vehicle’s soul with a final gassy sigh. Pain flared through my arms and chest. The inflated airbag pinned me in my seat.
‘Lucy! Lucy, are you ok?’
Silence. I couldn’t move. My ears rang in the sudden quietness.
From outside, muffled by the fog, a distant, steady rhythm pressed in through the open window. The sea, out there in the darkness, indifferent to us all, ebbed and flowed, its waves breaking and retreating in a rumble of stones.
As invisible as death and just as certain.
The hospital smelt of rubber and disinfectant and cold, recycled air.
I lay still. Every movement hurt. My raw arms and chest, bruised and burned by the exploding airbag, were lathered in antibiotic cream and covered loosely with gauze.
I was in a side-room, a concession to the fact I was an unusual patient, one of interest to the police. It was a small, featureless room. Morning light filtered in stripes through a closed blind, drawing a pattern across the tired furniture: a high, wheeled table and a tired, green armchair.
The door was propped open, letting in the occasional rumble of trolleys, the murmur of low voices and the squeak of nurses’ shoes. It was late.
Distantly, plastic doors slapped and harder, outdoor heels sounded in the corridor. They approached my room.
Detective Inspector Williams appeared in the doorway, her face stern.
‘I need to ask you a few questions.’
I nodded and she stepped briskly inside and pulled the armchair round to the side of the bed. A constable, emerging from behind her, took up position in the doorway and opened a notebook.
The Detective Inspector listened, her eyes on my face, rarely interrupting as I tried to set out everything that had happened. Behind her, the constable scribbled notes.
I had evidence to support my story. Caroline’s notebook had already been recovered from the wreckage of the nanny car. It wouldn’t take the police long to arrange a DNA sample, either from Lucy or from Caroline’s mother. I was confident that it would verify that the mystery body was indeed her daughter and my old friend, Caroline.
As for Kate’s fall and Dominic’s plunge from the cliff, forensic examination of the scene would surely tell them what they needed to know. I had faith. I knew I was telling the truth.
I didn’t need to ask if Dominic or Kate had survived. I already knew the answer.
I was sorry. I’d been thinking a lot about Dominic as I lay there. The charismatic man who had won my friend’s heart in an instant. The handsome face which was now cold. He’d betrayed Caroline. He’d failed Lucy, however much he’d professed to love her, by taking from her the person she most loved and most needed: her mother. He’d been cruel too in bullying his daughter into silence, frightening her into keeping quiet about her mother’s disappearance and the fact a stranger had taken her place.
When I closed my eyes, I saw again Kate’s broken body on the rocks, her clothes stirring and swaying with the swell of the sea. I couldn’t mourn for her either. She’d clearly taken pleasure in tormenting Caroline. She’d destroyed her marriage and driven her to the brink of madness. She’d colluded with Dominic to steal Caroline’s identity for her wealth and cared so little for her rival’s child.
I still didn’t know for sure which of them, or perhaps both, had killed Caroline and how she’d died. Perhaps I never would. But I did know that justice had now been done. However terrible their crimes, they’d paid the price.
But most of all, as I lay there, I thought of Lucy. She’d lost first her mother and now her father too. Her happiness was all that mattered now. Whatever was decided for her future, I knew I’d never abandon her. Caroline always knew how much I’d longed for a daughter. She’d seemed to sense how readily I’d love Lucy as if she were my own.
At the end of our interview, the Detective Inspector asked me if there was anything I’d like to ask.
I swallowed, licking dry, cracked lips. ‘How’s Lucy?’
She nodded and pushed back her chair as she got to her feet.
‘Just cuts and bruises. She’s sedated. But you can go along to see her, if you’d like to. She’s been asking for you.’
* * *
Lucy lay motionless in bed, a stiff, new teddy tucked by her side.
Her eyes were closed as I approached, shuffling down the darkened children’s ward. I sat heavily in the chair beside her. She seemed so vulnerable, so pale, her short hair tousled and spiky.
You’re not alone, little Lucy. I’ll do whatever it takes. I’ll look after you, if you’ll let me. I’ll fight for you.
I reached out and put my large hand over her tiny one.
She turned her head, opened her eyes and broke into a broad smile, then studied my face and looked puzzled.
‘Why are you crying?’ Her voice was a whisper.
I shook my head and tried to smile. ‘I’m just so happy to see you, Lucy. I was worried.’
She nodded, thoughtfully. Then grinned. ‘Mummy saved us, didn’t she? She was there in the fog, turning us back from the cliff. She said she’d come back. And she did. I knew she would.’
I blinked, trying to decide what to say. If she imagined she’d seen her mother in the gnarled tree rising out of the mists, who was I to tell her she was wrong?
She rattled on, her voice low and conspiratorial. ‘She came back to see me again. When I was in the amb’lance.’
I frowned. She must have been hallucinating. Perhaps it was the drugs.
She twisted towards me and whispered: ‘She told me she was taking Daddy away but I wasn’t to be sad because she’d found someone to look after me until I’m a very old grown up and it’s time for her to come back for me, to take me home forever.’
I squeezed her hand. I couldn’t answer.
‘It’s you!’ She managed a smile. ‘Silly Sophie, don’t cry! She arranged everything, just right. Wasn’t she clever?’
I took her in my arms and held her and felt her small, firm arms reach round my neck to hug me back, confident and sure.
‘Very clever,’ I s
aid. ‘Very clever indeed.’
Untitled
SOPHIE
Six months later
* * *
This was my favourite time of day.
I was always excited, always slightly nervous, my insides gripped by a thrill of anticipation.
I was the first to arrive. Gradually, mothers and nannies gathered round me, chatting to each other, arranging playdates and gossiping about school places for next year. Now and then, I nodded and pretended to listen. Mostly, I just smiled round vaguely at the other women and then turned away to keep my eyes on the nursery door, waiting for the first glimpse of her.
When the door opened, I rushed inside, eyes searching. The nursery smelt of wax crayons and glue and damp wool. Lucy looked up as I appeared and her face lit with a beaming smile as she ran across and flung herself into my open arms.
‘Hello, petal.’ I kissed the top of her head.
‘Hello.’ She thrust her nursery bag at me, wet and sticky where something had spilt. Together, we searched out her coat and I held out the sleeves for her arms to find, then helped her with the zip. Tricky things, zips.
On the way home, she swung our hands with a light, pumping motion and made random conversation.
‘Archie has a bunny rabbit. It’s grey. He said it’s a girl.’
I nodded and listened.
‘He says I can stroke it if I go to his house. Can I?’
‘Why don’t we arrange a playdate one day?’
She considered this, putting her head on one side, just as Caroline used to.
Lucy jerked away her hand and dived off the path to pick up a pinecone, then another. We had a big pot by the front door for these treasures we collected along the way. Knobbly sticks. Pine cones. Interesting leaves.
I waited, watching her, as she foraged. No need to hurry. We had time.
Mrs Minns said Lucy seemed happy now, at nursery. She no longer hung back, keeping herself apart. She joined in with the other children. She was making friends. And she talked a lot. She prattled on about anything and everything, exactly the way a child of her age should.
