No Child of Mine (10 page)

However, she’d tried, Alex would never deny that, and given how deeply she’d seen some children suffer, she knew better than to feel anything other than profoundly grateful for the stable and mostly loving upbringing she’d had.

Chapter Four

OTTILIE WAS SITTING
at the top of the stairs, her bony knees pressed tightly together, her cloud of wispy hair knotted like seaweed around her pale, pixie face. Her dress was back to front and the buttons were skewed. She’d meant to put on some knickers but had been unable to find any in the drawer.

Her best friend, Boots, was tucked into her lap. He was a bear so he was brave. Sometimes he made her brave too, but not all of the time. It had been his idea to come out on to the landing and so far everything was all right. Ottilie’s mother was downstairs somewhere, but Ottilie didn’t know where. She couldn’t hear her and she hadn’t seen her since she’d come to tell Ottilie it was time to get out of bed.

Get out of bed, Ottilie. Wash your face, Ottilie. Listen to me, Ottilie
.

Her daddy had gone to work the way he always did in the mornings, except when he took her to church. The last time they’d gone to church she’d worn a green and purple dress that was new and lots of people had looked at her and said nice things to her, but she didn’t say anything back.

‘She’s very shy,’ Daddy always told them.

Mummy never came to church. Mummy didn’t go out at all, she was asleep in her room most of the time, and Daddy said that it was for the best. It was good for Ottilie to stay at home too, he said, but she could always play in the garden. She did sometimes, when it wasn’t raining. Daddy had bought her a playhouse and a pram, a swing, a slide and a see-saw, because she was a very good girl. She wasn’t allowed on the swing or slide unless Mummy
or Daddy were there to make sure she was safe. Mummy never came out with her, but Daddy sometimes did. He’d bring his camera and take pictures of her playing, then they’d go into his studio, where he put them on his computer so she could see them like she was on TV. Boots was in some of them, but Daddy wouldn’t let her put him in front of her face the way she liked to because then he wouldn’t be able to see her and she was very pretty, he said.

Daddy kept all kinds of dressing-up clothes in his studio for her to play with when he was in the mood to have her over there. He’d show her pictures of other little girls wearing the same sorts of things so she would know how to lie, or sit, or kneel when he was taking pictures. Sometimes he would just sit in his chair stroking the tiger that lived in his pocket as he watched her. She didn’t like the tiger, but she didn’t tell him that because it made him cross.

She wanted to go downstairs now, but Boots was asleep and she couldn’t be brave without him, so she stood up and walked towards her room. She had a pink bed with daisies and fairies on the cover, and stars on the curtains. There were books on the shelves that Daddy read to her, and pictures on the walls that she’d drawn herself. She even had a TV all of her own. Boots liked it in here, and so did she, but only when it was just the two of them. She didn’t like it when Daddy came in, unless it was just to tuck her up or ask if she wanted something to eat.

Hearing a noise on the landing she looked up, and her heart fluttered like a little bird as her mother appeared. She was scared and wanted to cry, but didn’t in case it made Mummy cross. She wasn’t sure what she’d done wrong, but Mummy had a funny look about her, and she was swaying. She did that sometimes, and even fell over, bumping her head and making herself bleed.

‘Go to your room,’ Mummy said, in a voice that didn’t really sound like hers. ‘
Go to your room. GO TO YOUR ROOM YOU FILTHY LITTLE BITCH
.’

Ottilie hated it when her mother screamed like that; it always terrified her. She fled past her and into her bedroom.

‘Stay there,’ Mummy said, her voice shaking like the windows when they rattled in the wind. ‘And don’t come out until I say so.’

As Erica snapped on the TV and closed the door, Ottilie climbed on to the bed with Boots to wait.

She was very good at doing as she was told.

‘Alex, it’s Wendy.’

‘Oh, hello,’ Alex said sweetly into her Bluetooth, ‘how lovely to hear you.’

‘Yes, I’m sure,’ Wendy retorted drily. ‘I have some news for you. Lizzie Walsh has agreed to go with you to the Princes.’

Had Alex not been driving she’d have punched the air with a
Yes!
Since a small army, a machine gun or laughing gas was out of the question as backup for that visit, Lizzie Walsh was absolutely the next best choice. (Apart from Tommy, naturally, but he was already off somewhere being trained to fill in forms that should hopefully make the government’s life easier.) In fact, contacting Lizzie – the most experienced and cool-headed social worker on the team, but only part-time these days – had been right at the top of her to-do list today. So it would seem that someone (Tommy, without a doubt) had already tipped Lizzie off. ‘Tell her I love her,’ Alex gushed. ‘Or don’t bother, I’ll tell her myself. Yay! So, lucky us, we’ve won the star prize, a day trip to the Temple Fields estate to visit the Princes.’

With a sigh Wendy said, ‘Alex, I know you think it’s beneath you to go into that estate, but I’m sure I don’t have to remind you that it’s an integral part of our area that needs careful handling.’

Wishing she could punch the stupid woman who had absolutely no idea about anything – least of all that Alex herself had been born in Temple Fields, OK, not on the estate, but close enough – Alex decided not to dignify the ignorance with any sort of response. (And since when had she ever given the impression that it was
beneath
her?)

‘Are you still there?’ Wendy enquired patiently.

‘Yes, I’m here,’ Alex replied, indicating to turn in the direction of Westleigh. She had just enough time now to pop into
the Fenns to pickup the photograph for Daniel, before dashing back across town to the family court where Annie Ashe was hopefully going to learn that she could have her children back from care. After that she’d call in on Kylie to find out how her self-inflicted injuries were healing, and then, with any luck, she’d make it back to the office in time for a core meeting about Lucas Green, whose severely depressed mother was leaning on him too heavily.

‘We’ll need an assessment on Polly Prince by the end of next week,’ Wendy was saying. ‘Lizzie is in on Tuesday and Wednesday, so I suggest you schedule the visit for one of those days.’

‘Well I guess that would make sense,’ Alex responded sardonically.

‘Very funny. Polly will probably need to be taken back into care, but if I were you I wouldn’t broach that while you’re there.’

‘Really? Do you think it might get me into trouble?’

Wendy sighed.

‘So any news on Shane Prince’s whereabouts yet?’ Alex asked cheerfully. ‘Please tell me they’ve remanded him in custody for the mugging of Dr Trevors, so I don’t have to worry about being treated to his uniquely friendly manners when I turn up at his house.’

‘I haven’t heard back from the police yet,’ Wendy replied, ‘but I’ll let you know when I do. Oh, one other thing before you go, I need you to cover for Ben on Friday.’

Alex nearly exploded. ‘You’re kidding me, right? I’m completely inundated ...’

‘It’s all about prioritising,’ Wendy interrupted in a tone that went straight up Alex’s back. ‘The families who can wait will just have to wait a little longer. I’ll give you a call as soon as I’ve sorted out ...’

‘What the hell’s wrong with him?’ Alex demanded. ‘He’s always taking time off.’

‘He’s attending his grandfather’s funeral. Is that good enough for you?’

It might have been if it weren’t the third time in as many months that Ben had been to his grandfather’s funeral, so either the old bloke wasn’t staying buried, or Ben was an
out-and-out shafter. ‘So can’t you get some agency staff to cover?’ she cried.

‘What a luxury that would be, but with all these cutbacks I’m afraid it’s out of the question. Now, I think we’ve dealt with everything, so I’ll leave it with you to sort out a mutually convenient time with Lizzie to visit Polly Prince.’

After ringing off Alex felt sorely tempted to call Jason, simply to let off some steam, since he was the only one who’d fully understand why Wendy’s comments about visits to Temple Fields being beneath her were so fatuous and miles wide of the mark. However, he’d have far more important things to do with his day than spend time trying to bring her back from orbit. And actually, she could do it herself, with a few deep breaths and another reminder, albeit grudging, that though Wendy, along with the rest of her colleagues, knew she’d been adopted, they had no idea that she was the child, all grown up now of course, of the notorious Temple Fields killer. Alex guessed if anyone even thought about that tragic little girl these days, and after so long she doubted anyone did, they’d simply assume that she’d either been taken in by someone else from the family, or swallowed up in the care system. And indeed the system had processed her protection and eventual adoption, because no one else from her family had come forward to claim her. This was something she viewed with mixed emotions, since she wouldn’t have wanted anyone from her father’s side to try and grab her into the bosom of their care. However, there had been, and still was, a great-aunt on her mother’s side (her grandfather’s stepsister), who might have taken her in had she not been afraid of the murdering Gavril Albescu, or one of his accomplices, finding out and trying to dispatch her too.

Alex had only discovered about this aunt five years ago, through the Internet, and it had taken months for her to pluck up the courage to write her a letter. It turned out she needn’t have bothered, because the reply she’d got had told her, quite bluntly, that her aunt felt it best for the situation to remain as it was.
Nothing good can come of us meeting now
, she’d written in a rather childlike hand.
There is nothing I can tell you about your mother’s whereabouts. She never stayed in touch, and I can only feel glad of that while your father is still at large. I don’t suppose after all these years that he remains a threat, but I see no point in running the risk. We have our separate lives and families now, and I feel certain that the rector and his wife have proved kind and loving parents to you
.

Of course, if your mother does ever get in touch with me and is wishing to re-establish contact with you, I will tell her where to find you
.

With my best wishes for your health and happiness

Helen Druffield

With that letter all Alex’s hopes of forging some kind of connection with her real family had died. She’d taken the rejection hard at the time, realising that in her great-aunt’s eyes she was tainted by her father’s genes, and perhaps was viewed as some sort of bad-luck charm to those of her mother’s family who’d survived, and who’d apparently rather not have her amongst them.

Turn around and come back, Alex
, she told herself.
You know self-pity’s a pointless place to go
.

Finding free access to the Fenns’ drive this time, she quickly parked up on the gravel outside the front door and even before she could knock Maggie Fenn was coming out to greet her.

‘Do you have time to come in?’ Maggie invited, her kind eyes looking as anxiously hopeful as a child’s in a toyshop who has no money.

‘I’m afraid I’m in a bit of a rush,’ Alex replied guiltily. ‘I’m due in court ...’

‘Yes, of course, of course. I know how busy you are. Here’s the photograph.’ It was wrapped in brown paper and carefully tied up with black ribbon.

Touched by how smart she’d made it look, Alex said, ‘I’ll make sure he gets it.’

Maggie’s smile faltered. ‘Thank you,’ she replied.

Unable simply to walk away, Alex said, ‘Is everything all right? You seem a bit ...’

‘No, no, I’m fine. Truly. I just ... Well, they came to take Oliver back to his mother yesterday, so I’ve got a bit of an empty nest I’m afraid.’ She took a breath and shook her head, pulling herself together. ‘You know his mother has
Munchausen’s ... Actually we have to call it something else now, don’t we?’

‘FII,’ Alex answered. ‘Fabricated or Induced Illness.’

Maggie nodded. ‘I do hope he’ll be all right.’

Putting a hand on her arm, Alex said, ‘Don’t worry, his social worker and the family support team will keep a very close eye on him.’

Maggie braved a smile. ‘I’m sure they will. And before we know it I expect I’ll have another troubled little soul or two to be running around after. Let’s hope so, eh? Oh, I don’t mean ... I’m not wishing them to be ...’

‘It’s OK, I know what you mean,’ Alex assured her. ‘Now I’m afraid I really do have to run, but I’ll give you my details in case you want to call for a chat at any time.’ As she scribbled her numbers on a slip of paper she wasn’t quite sure why she was doing it, especially when Maggie Fenn wasn’t even in her area. However, she couldn’t just abandon the woman, giving her nothing when she was clearly so upset.

‘Send Daniel our love when you see him,’ Maggie said, taking the details. ‘And if you happen to run into Oliver at all ... I know he doesn’t come under your office ...’

‘Don’t worry, I’ll tell him,’ Alex promised with a smile, and still feeling awful for having to rush off she ran back to her car, knowing already how unlikely it was she’d be able to get across town in time for the hearing.

However, an hour later she was listening to the senior magistrate saying to Annie, ‘... so I’m afraid Mrs Ashe, that in light of this recent incident you’ve left us with no alternative but to keep the current custody arrangements for your children in place.’

Sensing Annie’s confusion and panic Alex quickly reached for her hand.

‘What does he mean? What’s he saying?’ Annie cried as the magistrates started to leave the court and the lawyers began packing up their papers. ‘No, don’t go! Come back, you can’t keep my children. Alex! You have to stop him. Please, make him come back.’

‘Ssh, ssh.’ Alex tried to soothe her. ‘I’m really sorry, Annie. I didn’t ...’