Don't Let Me Go (56 page)

As another question formed on Gemma’s lips one of her friends shouted, ‘Hey! Gem! Come on, we have to go. Everyone’s there already.’

Spinning round, Gemma said, ‘Don’t go without me.’ Then to Charlotte, ‘It was really cool seeing you. Like I said, I’m really glad you got off, but I still wish it was me you took,’ and after giving her a bruising hug she dashed off down the beach after her friends.

Looking from her mother to Shelley as they closed in either side of her to start walking again, Charlotte sighed and linked their arms. She wondered how many of her other charges felt she had let them down by taking Chloe and not them. And how would she explain it to them if they got the chance to ask? She probably wouldn’t do any better than she had with Gemma, since there was no easy way – in fact no way at all – to tell one child that they hadn’t meant quite as much as another.

Taking out her phone as it beeped with a text she saw there were two, and opened the one from Anthony first. As she read it she smiled past the disquiet her thoughts had aroused. ‘Seems the guys are having a successful day,’ she told her mother and Shelley. ‘Rick’s caught two, Bob three and Anthony three, so trout for dinner at Maggie’s?’

‘Sounds good to me,’ Shelley responded, springing up to catch a beach ball and tossing it back to its owner.

‘I’ll text Maggie to say I’ll be over early to help,’ Anna declared, taking out her own phone.

Charlotte’s second text turned out to be from Tracy. As she opened it she felt a horrible clenching in her stomach and a wave of dizziness passing through her. For a moment the words swam before her eyes, as though dancing in a heat haze, then registering what they said she bit down hard on her frustration and passed the phone to her mother so Anna could read the message too.

The following day Charlotte waited in the sitting room while Anthony went down to sort out a parking space for Wendy in the residents’ bays across the street. If she weren’t so anxious, she might actually be able to admire Wendy’s nerve in coming here. As it was she could only feel thankful that Anthony was going to be around to keep a lid on the proceedings, otherwise they probably wouldn’t even get as far as hello before things took a turn for the worse. Of course she understood that the proper checks had to be carried out, but she also knew that Wendy was perfectly able to fast-track the residence order were she of a mind to. If she had, it might have been granted by now, and preparations would be under way to welcome Chloe home. Instead, Wendy had decided to come and carry out the inspection herself, no doubt already relishing the thought of being able to have a good nose around Charlotte’s home, while flaunting her power and making Charlotte grovel.

Remember, you’re doing this for Chloe, and humbling yourself to Wendy is a very small price to pay if it all works out in the end. And it will work out, it really will.

She had to believe that, or she’d never get through the next hour.

‘Here we are, through here,’ Anthony was saying chattily as he led Wendy to the sitting room. ‘We’ve made some coffee, but if you’d prefer tea . . .’

‘No, no, coffee’s fine,’ Wendy assured him, appearing in the doorway with her head tilted up to the ceiling, apparently searching for cobwebs.

Wishing she’d remembered to carry out the search herself, Charlotte said, ‘Wendy!’ and promptly cringed at the falseness in her tone. Still, at least she was trying.

‘How nice to see you,’ Wendy responded, with an expression Charlotte couldn’t quite read. ‘You’re looking well.’

Unable to detect any disdain, yet, Charlotte accepted the gloves were still on for the time being and said, ‘Thank you, so are you.’

‘Milk? Sugar?’ Anthony offered, as he poured the coffee.

Wendy pinked slightly as she looked at him. ‘Neither for me,’ she replied. Her eyes began travelling around the room again, taking in every crack and crevice, stray crumb and wandering hair. ‘Well, I must admit, I never expected us to meet again under these circumstances,’ she commented, gazing at the open French windows where a thirsty-looking planter of geraniums was hanging from the balcony rails.

‘No, me neither,’ Charlotte muttered. Was she imagining it, or was Wendy finding it hard to meet her eyes? A painful jolt of unease struck through her. Surely to God Wendy wasn’t here to tell her that the residence order couldn’t be processed? It wasn’t that the possibility hadn’t occurred to her, because it had; she just hadn’t been able to imagine Wendy finding the courage to come and tell her in person.

‘Thank you,’ Wendy said to Anthony as he passed her a mug and invited her to sit down.

Having never really seen Wendy at a loss before, Charlotte found herself at one too. What was going on? Why wasn’t Wendy stalking around here like a health and safety freak making her feel as though the place wasn’t fit for animals, never mind a child
you made off with when you were on my team, and have you given even a moment’s consideration to all the stress you’ve caused me since, not to mention the sleepless nights when I thought I might lose my job, and the humiliation of headlines these past few days such as: It’s OK to steal a child in Kesterly.
That particular nastiness had only appeared in the local
Gazette
but it would still have been very damaging for Wendy, who probably didn’t know, or had forgotten, that Heather Hancock had always had it in for Charlotte.

Actually, Charlotte realised, she probably hadn’t given enough thought to how her actions might have affected Wendy, and sadly it was a bit late now.

‘Would you like a biscuit?’ Anthony offered, picking up the plate. ‘I was going to lie and say I made them myself, but then I thought, under the circumstances that might be going too far.’

To Charlotte’s surprise Wendy seemed to find that funny, or at least she got the joke.
New daddy figure, bakes biscuits, must be a good guy.

Suddenly realising she was frozen like a deer in headlights, Charlotte mentally shook herself and tried for a sprightly tone. ‘So how are things going with the new hub? Is it working out well to have both divisions of Kesterly under the same roof? Well, obviously it is, with you running it, how could it not be?’ She really wished she hadn’t said that, since it sounded even more sarcastic than sycophantic and wasn’t supposed to be either. However, if it was what Wendy needed to hear she’d say it again and again and again; she only wished she could make it come across as more believable, and that Anthony wasn’t looking at her as though he might laugh.

To Charlotte’s surprise Wendy didn’t seem to be listening to the compliments. She was looking in the direction of Chloe’s photograph on the mantelpiece.

Not sure whether to go and fetch it, or to pretend not to have noticed, Charlotte was about to speak when Anthony put a discreet hand on her arm. Realising he was cautioning her to relax, drink her coffee and let things flow, she tried and failed. She was wondering now if Wendy had seen the picture already, since it was the one Anthony had handed out at the trial, showing Charlotte and Chloe laughing into one another’s eyes. It wasn’t permissible for the press to reveal Chloe’s face, of course, so it had been pixilated in a way that attempted to convey a sense of her joy while not making her recognisable. However, it was patently the shot that had graced many front pages the day after the trial.

How split the nation seemed on whether she should have got off or not! Everyone was talking about it in the papers, on TV, the Internet. Charlotte was doing her best not to engage. All that mattered to her now was getting Chloe back; she’d deal with everything else later.

She wondered if Wendy had ever actually seen Chloe before.

‘She’s very sweet,’ Wendy commented.

‘Yes, she is,’ Charlotte confirmed. ‘Very.’

Anthony shot her a warning look.

Wendy took a sip of her coffee and began studying the bench that was now decorated with pale blue and cream silk pillows and matching seat pad.

‘My father made it,’ Charlotte blurted. ‘I mean the bench.’

Wendy looked surprised. ‘The rector made it?’

‘No, my real father. Anthony found it online.’

Wendy nodded, and sipped her coffee again.

Trying to keep her tone pleasant, but needing to move things on, Charlotte said, ‘Well, I’m sure you know who Anthony is; he’s the lawyer who represented me at the trial, but obviously, he understands the need for him to have a criminal record check, so if you haven’t already . . .’

‘It’s been done,’ Wendy assured her quietly.

Thrown, Charlotte glanced at Anthony, who simply raised his eyebrows and lifted a foot to rest it on the other knee.

Deciding to continue with her bid to impress, Charlotte told Wendy, ‘We have two bedrooms here, and as you can see it’s very clean and well taken care of. I’m happy to show you around, or if you’d rather do it alone . . .’

‘It’s OK,’ Wendy said, ‘it’s not . . . Well, it’s not really why I came. I know you can provide a good home for the child and of course I have no doubts about Anthony either. It’s just that the formalities need to be gone through and I . . . I thought that maybe this would be a good opportunity for me to come here and try to . . . Well, to have a talk with you.’

Baffled, Charlotte glanced at Anthony again to see if he had any idea where this might be going, but his attention was focused wholly on Wendy.

‘This isn’t very easy for me to say,’ Wendy continued, looking down at her coffee, ‘but I’m going to try.’

Charlotte was starting to panic. Either Wendy herself, or someone higher up had decreed that no matter what a jury thought, it was
not
OK to steal a child in Kesterly.

‘Ever since you joined the team,’ Wendy was saying, ‘was it eight or nine years ago . . .’

‘Nine,’ Charlotte said croakily.

Wendy nodded. ‘Well, in all that time I’ve been aware of how easily people warm to you. You don’t have to go out of your way to make yourself liked, or admired, or loved by the children, it all comes so naturally to you that I . . . Well, I have to confess it’s made me jealous of you at times, and because of that I haven’t always treated you fairly or kindly.’

Charlotte blinked, not sure she was hearing right.

‘Fiery though you can be,’ Wendy continued, ‘I’m not sure you’ve got it in you to hurt anyone, at least not deliberately, and knowing that about you . . . Well, it made me more resentful than ever, because I do have it in me and I wish I didn’t. People aren’t drawn to me the way they are to you, they probably wouldn’t even notice me if I weren’t their boss.’ Her smile was a flat line as she glanced down at her coffee again. ‘Anyway, before this turns into a hideously self-pitying rant, I want to apologise for the way I’ve been with you in the past, for making life difficult when I probably didn’t need to, and especially for not allowing you to know anything about Chloe over these last few months. If it’s any consolation I truly thought I was doing the right thing, but I realise now how hard that must have been for you, and I know it hasn’t been easy for her either. It’s OK, she’s fine,’ she added quickly as Charlotte’s eyes widened with alarm, ‘but it’s clear from every carer she’s been with since coming back here that all she really wants is you.’

As emotions began unlocking in Charlotte’s chest, she tried to speak and found she couldn’t.

‘The residence order has been approved,’ Wendy continued, putting her mug on the table, ‘and I hope, in time, you’ll be able to accept my apology.’

Spurred by a surge of unbridled emotion, Charlotte rushed to embrace her. ‘Of course I accept it,’ she cried, ‘and it’s me who should be apologising, not you. I was a nightmare at times, especially with you, and there was never any need for it. You were just doing your job, and I should have realised that and been more respectful. I’m sorry, I really am. If there’s any way I can make up for it, please just tell me how.’

With an unsteady smile, Wendy replied, ‘All you have to do is give that little girl the home she deserves.’

‘Yes, oh yes,’ Charlotte gasped. ‘I will, I promise.’

Taking her hand, Anthony drew her back into the circle of his arm as he asked, ‘Can you give us any idea when it’s likely to happen?’

Crooking a finger beneath one eye to block a tear, Wendy said, ‘If it’s not too soon for you, Tracy will bring her on Friday.’

Charlotte spent the next two days in a dizzying state of intense and exhausting emotion, as she shopped with her mother and Shelley for everything they could possibly need for Chloe, aged four. Meanwhile, Anthony and Bob were turning the second bedroom into a little girl’s dream, and Rick was calling regularly from London to find out if there was anything he could bring back from his meeting. Over at Maggie and Ron’s hurried repairs to the tree house were under way ready for Chloe’s visits, and down in Devon the twins were thinking up all kinds of games to play with their new cousin.

‘You understand, don’t you,’ Charlotte had said to them on the phone several times, ‘that it might be a bit soon to meet her this weekend? She’ll have to get used to us all again and we don’t want to overwhelm her, do we?’

‘No, definitely not,’ they’d agreed with one voice. ‘But we will be able to meet her, won’t we?’

‘Of course you will, just as soon as she’s had a chance to settle in. And I’m sure, once I’ve told her about you, she’ll want to meet you straight away.’

The truth was, she had no idea how Chloe was going to react to anything or anyone after being away for so long, and the fear that she’d gone so deeply inside herself that it might take weeks, even months to reach her, was growing each day. She knew from her chats with Tracy that Chloe hadn’t spoken in the past six months, other than to ask for her, and while it just about broke her heart to think of it, it was unnerving her too. How on earth was she going to persuade her that it was safe to trust Mummy again, after Mummy had let her down so badly? She was too young to understand what had happened, too emotionally fragile to be able to cope with much more.

‘All you can do is take one day at a time,’ her mother repeatedly advised, ‘and remember how well she survived what happened to her before. In other words, she might look as delicate as a flower, but even when she’s been crushed her little spirit seems to survive.’