Doctor Gavrilov (24 page)

‘No. No, she hasn't.' Katie felt her voice rising in panic.

Jenny said, ‘I'd better go back and look for her.'

Katie couldn't think. She felt her heart start to thump loudly, and she was swamped by a terrible feeling, like the sensation of having forgotten something or left something behind magnified a thousand-fold. She said, ‘Which road was it? Where? Which corner?'

‘I've already looked. She isn't there.'

Katie stared at Jenny, trying to make sense of what she said. Jenny turned and picked up the phone, calling the police. Katie listened, unable to move, while she gave the details. Jenny hung up. She said, ‘They're sending a car… It's my fault… we didn't come at once because we thought we'd find her… it just didn't seem possible…'

Katie dashed out of the house and up the road, calling out, ‘Anna! Anna! Are you hiding? Come out now!' She realised it was useless; she felt her legs go weak; with an effort she prevented herself from simply sinking down on to the pavement. She kept thinking over and over; this isn't possible. This just isn't possible. In a moment she will pop up from behind a hedge and it will all be a stupid mistake.

Katie ran through all the streets to the school, calling Anna's name. The head-teacher was still in her office; she was extremely concerned and sympathetic but couldn't help, especially as the police had already been called, so Katie turned and ran all the way home again. There was a chance – just a chance – that Anna might have been found by now. As Katie neared the house, she saw a police car come into view and drive up to her.

The driver wound down the window, a policeman in uniform. ‘Are you Katie Gavrilov?' He pronounced it wrong but she couldn't correct him.

‘Have you found her yet?'

‘No, there's no news. If you come back to the house we'll take a statement from you,'

Katie couldn't answer but her face must have told him everything. He spoke into the car radio. He said, ‘There's another car on the way. They'll drive around, then, if they don't find her, we'll ask at all the houses.'

When she reached the house she thought that there was just a chance, a faint chance, that Anna might now be there. As she walked up the steps this seemed more and more likely, but as soon as she saw Jenny's anxious face, her hope dissolved.

She sank down on the sofa, exhausted, her breath coming in gasps. A policewoman knocked and came in through the door.

‘We're doing a house-to-house. Is there anyone she knows? Anywhere she might have gone? A corner shop? A friend's house?'

‘No – not round here.'

‘I think it's best if we wait here. Could you make me a cup of tea?'

Jenny put the kettle on. Katie, unable to keep still, jumped up and rang the bell to Tim's flat in case Anna had gone in there, but there was no reply; then she tried the neighbours. She phoned the library where she thought Dmitry was and explained that this was an emergency and asked if they could find her husband, but after she had hung on for nearly ten minutes they said he wasn't there.

Then Katie started to phone all the mothers of Anna's friends from the school who Anna might possibly have gone home with. She dialled the numbers desperately, her hands shaking. None of them knew anything. Sasha started to cry and she sat down and fed him. She was amazed that she could; her whole body felt numb. It was now nearly six o'clock. Katie's only hope now was that Dmitry had left the library early, had seen Anna running along the road, and gone off somewhere with her. It was unlikely, she knew, but it was just possible.

A policeman came to join them. He asked detailed questions about what Anna was wearing, what she looked like, and Katie found some photographs for them, handing them over without daring to glance at them herself. They also wanted information about the family situation, asked whether there had been any custody dispute. Jenny was taken aside and questioned separately. With every moment that passed Katie felt more and more sick. She thought that if this went on for much longer she would die. She remembered something she had read somewhere; that most children who are abducted are killed within a few hours of being taken. She mustn't allow herself to think this. Perhaps Anna had only wandered off, had got lost, and was with some kind person who would be looking after her. But surely, if they found a lost child, they would phone the police? She clenched her hands so tightly that they hurt.

At six-thirty Jenny's husband called and collected Charlotte. Jenny tried to make Katie eat something but she couldn't. She was now worried that Dmitry was also late home. Sasha had fallen asleep; she went upstairs and put him in the cot, not bothering to check his nappy or change his clothes. She started to cry; a terrible pain began to gnaw at her, as if her internal organs were being torn apart; she wasn't sure that she could bear it. She began to rock backwards and forwards. She asked, ‘Isn't there something else we can do? Can we put out an appeal? What about the hospitals. Shouldn't we ring the hospitals?'

The policewoman said quietly that this was already being done.

At seven another, more senior, policeman arrived. He sat down opposite Katie and said that a child who fitted Anna's description had been taken into hospital in east London. She was concussed but they thought not seriously injured. He said the child was about six years old, had long dark hair and was wearing a navy blue dress with white spots and black trainers. Katie said at once, ‘That's right. That's Anna. Oh, my God.' She couldn't take it in; none of it made sense to her but she had to go at once, had to see if it was really Anna. Jenny said she would stay and babysit Sasha while Katie went to the hospital.

Katie put on her jacket and was rushing to the door when it opened and Dmitry came in. His face, staring at her, looked white and thin, like tissue paper. ‘What's happened, what's the police car…? Are you all right…?'

‘Anna's in hospital. They think it's Anna – I don't know. We have to go there. I can't explain… please come with me.'

Dmitry grabbed her arm. He said, ‘What is it? Is she ill? Was there an accident?' He climbed into the back of the police-car beside her, followed by the senior officer. As the car pulled out the officer explained, ‘She was found on the verge at the side of the dual carriageway… she may have been struck by a car… she is unconscious but the doctor I spoke to thinks there is no serious injury.'

Katie still didn't understand. She asked, ‘But how did she get there?' Dmitry said suddenly, ‘Oh my God,' and Katie thought for a moment he was going to be sick. His face went bright red, then white, and turned his head sharply to one side, his body hunched over, leaning into the corner. She put out her hand and took hold of his; he didn't look at her, but he held on to her hand very tightly, and this gave her some comfort on the long journey to the hospital.

They stood in a brightly lit corridor while doctors and nurses hurried past. The police officer told them that they would not wait long. He took them into a side room; Katie sank on to a chair and watched Dmitry pace up and down.

The registrar came, a young Asian doctor in a white coat. The few moments before he spoke were agony.

He said, ‘You'd better come in and confirm that it really is your daughter.'

Katie grabbed Dmitry's hand and they went in together. Thank God; it was Anna. She looked very small and lost on the large, high bed. The left side of her face was covered by a dressing but Katie could see the deep grazes and raw flesh around her eye, which was puffy and swollen. There was a drip in her left arm.

Katie felt light-headed, dizzy with relief; the moment she touched Anna she felt better. Anything, anything was better than not knowing, not being able to find her. She sat down by the bed and started to tidy Anna's hair, stroke her arm, telling her it was all right, she was there, even though she knew she couldn't hear her; perhaps she was also comforting herself.

The doctor spoke in quiet, confident tones. ‘Let me reassure you… all the neurological signs are looking good so far. She's still unconscious but she's beginning to lighten and is responding to pain. She probably won't be fully conscious for a few hours… she had some nasty abrasions to her left cheek but I don't think they'll scar too badly…'

She heard Dmitry saying to the doctor, ‘How do you know she'll be all right? If she hasn't regained consciousness…'

‘We have the X-rays… if it is a fracture it is only minor…'

A nurse offered them a cup of tea; Katie accepted gratefully. Everyone was very kind. They assumed she would want to stay in overnight, but Katie said she didn't know what to do, she would have to go home at some point because no-one else could feed the baby. Dmitry said that she should go home, and he would stay with Anna and phone her when she woke. He put his arms round her and held her, stroking her hair gently with his large hands. Katie looked at him and he smiled. His eyes were open, looking into hers, the pupils wide and dark, and she thought, with a shock, that this was the first smile she had seen him give her for weeks, perhaps months, the first time she felt he was truly giving of himself. She felt as if he had suddenly come back to her.

Dmitry sat in the chair by the bed; he stretched out his legs and tried to sleep but it wasn't possible, though his head ached with weariness. He knew this was no accident, he knew it was his fault, he knew this meant the end of everything for them. As the hours passed Anna became increasingly restless; from time to time she murmured and thrashed her limbs. The nurse came to check her, calm, unconcerned. Dmitry took the child's hand and said softly, ‘Anna? Anna? it's all right, Mitya's here,' but he wasn't sure if she heard him or not.

At about one o'clock in the morning she opened her eyes. His voice seemed to calm her, but she didn't look at him properly, as if she was delirious or he wasn't really there. Then she said, ‘My head hurts. I feel sick.' Tears rolled down her cheeks. Dmitry asked, ‘Do you want Mummy?' but he couldn't go to telephone; she wouldn't let go of his hand.

Anna seemed to sleep for a while; then she woke up and started to be sick. This distressed her and she started to cry; she wouldn't keep still and Dmitry was worried she might injure herself. He pressed the button and the nurse came, then went to get the registrar. Anna began to pick at the tube in her arm with determined, nervous movements. Dmitry took her hand to pull it away and she resisted. She stared at him oddly with her grey eyes and said things which he didn't understand. He was frightened; he wished somebody would come. He was afraid that the damage was worse than they had thought, that Anna might have suffered a brain injury and not fully recover, and that he would never be able to forgive himself for what he had done to her.

The registrar came. He seemed concerned, spoke to her in a firm, urgent voice: ‘Anna? Can you hear me? Anna?' He shone a torch into both of Anna's eyes, took her arm and moved it around. Dmitry had to know the worst; he asked, ‘Is there… brain damage?' The registrar straightened up. ‘Vomiting like this can indicate a brain haemorrhage, but I don't think that's the case here… I think we'll put a naso-gastric tube down to empty her stomach… then she'll be more comfortable.'

Dmitry took Anna's hand and held it while they did this. He wished profoundly there was some way he could take her pain away from her; he was so ashamed of what he had done that he felt he had to deal with it himself and did not want them to go and ring Katie. Perhaps it was also to protect himself, to shield from Katie the full extent of Anna's suffering. When it was all over Anna was calmer; he half lay down with his head on the pillow next to her and talked to her softly, any nonsense he could think of, and eventually she went to sleep. She lay calm and lovely as an angel while Dmitry felt himself condemned to hell.