No Child of Mine (60 page)

‘Did you ever see anyone else at the Wades’ house, besides the family?’ Gould wanted to know.

No, she hadn’t, apart from the Sainsbury’s driver leaving once, and the silver Renault that had pulled away as she’d arrived last Sunday night.
Who did that car belong to? Would the police ever find out?
She knew they were afraid Ottilie had been inside, but as yet they had nothing to prove it. ‘On my first visit, Mr Wade told me that they didn’t have many friends,’ she said.

How many visits had she actually made to the home? How often had she seen Ottilie in the company of her parents? Had they ever talked about holidays they’d taken? Had either of them ever mentioned their son Jonathan? How had she found out about Erica Wade’s mother? Had she ever told Brian Wade what she knew?

The questions had seemed endless, almost brutal in some ways, and unnerving. Though Gould hadn’t treated her harshly, she could tell he wasn’t a man to be on the wrong side of, which, thank God, Brian Wade was sure to be. As far as Alex was concerned, no amount of suffering would ever be enough for him.

Ride the tiger, Ottilie. There’s a good girl, ride the tiger
.

As they were leaving Gould said, ‘Erica Wade’s body is being cremated on Wednesday. We’d like you to come along in case anyone turns up who you might have seen before, someone who might jog a memory.’

‘Of course,’ she said quietly. ‘Will ... Will
he
be there?’

‘No. He’s been taken to Eastbrook Prison where he’ll stay until we’re ready to press more charges.’

‘You – you feel sure you will?’

‘I do,’ Gould replied with unshakable confidence. ‘He’s done something with that little girl, I mean beyond what we already know ...’ He broke off as he registered her distress. ‘Please don’t think we’re giving up hope of finding her alive,’ he said more gently. ‘He’s given her to someone, we’re sure of it, and we haven’t yet exhausted the leads taken from his phone records and computer.’

After closing the door behind him Alex stood against it, listening to the journalists outside shouting their questions and seeming to get nothing in response. She wondered
what they were making of him turning up here, at her home, on a Sunday. Did they think he’d come to tell her they’d found Ottilie, buried in a ditch, cast into a quarry, locked up in someone’s cellar? Maybe they’d become excited by the possibility of him arresting her for the gross dereliction of duty for which they had already condemned her.

She could easily imagine the headlines, but didn’t want to.

On hearing someone outside shouting her name, she hurried to put on some music. Taking her phone, she went upstairs to shut herself in the bedroom until her mother rang, an hour later, to say she’d just driven into the village so would be with her in a couple of minutes.

Now Alex was standing at the foot of the stairs, waiting for the double and triple knock to tell her it was safe to open up. She was shaking so hard it was as though all the emotions buried inside her were struggling to break free. She almost choked with relief as the knock jarred her senses and sent her rushing to the door.

Seconds later she was in her mother’s arms with the door firmly closed again, and the feeling of safety, support, trust caused her to break down.

‘It’s all right, it’s all right,’ Anna soothed, holding her tight. ‘I’m here now. Everything’s going to be fine, I promise.’

‘Oh God, oh God, oh God,’ Alex gasped almost hysterically.

‘Sssh,’ Anna murmured, tightening her embrace. ‘This has been so hard for you, so very hard, but they’re going to find her, sweetheart, they really will.’

Alex pulled back to look at her, tears streaming down her cheeks as she tried to speak and found she couldn’t.

‘I know they don’t know where she is right now,’ Anna whispered, brushing the hair from Alex’s eyes, ‘but that doesn’t mean ...’

‘She’s here,’ Alex sobbed wretchedly. ‘She’s upstairs.’

Anna’s face stiffened with incomprehension before slackening with shock, as Alex bowed her head and wept. ‘I’m sorry, I’m sorry,’ she wailed. ‘I know I shouldn’t ... I just ... Oh God, what am I going to do?’

Still too stunned to speak, Anna glanced up the stairs.

‘I can’t give her up,’ Alex cried, ‘I just can’t, but I know I have to ...’

‘Ssh, ssh,’ Anna soothed, hardly knowing what else to say. ‘Is she ... Is she all right? I mean ...’ What did she mean? Right now she had no idea.

‘She’s fine,’ Alex assured her. Her face crumpled again. ‘And happy and safe. Oh God, I know I shouldn’t have done it ... I wasn’t thinking straight, I just grabbed her and ran and the next thing I knew ...’

Anna put up a hand. ‘Tell me when you’re calmer,’ she said gently. ‘I want to see her now.’

‘Of course.’ Alex started up the stairs. ‘I told her you were coming, and her little face lit up.’

Anna smiled, mainly because she didn’t know what else to do, and of course she was profoundly relieved to know Ottilie was safe.
But like this?
Following Alex on to the landing, she asked, ‘How on earth have you managed to keep her hidden with all those journalists outside, the police coming and going ...’

‘You know how good she is,’ Alex replied, glancing over her shoulder. ‘She does everything you tell her, so if I say she mustn’t make a sound when someone else is in the house, she doesn’t. The worst is when I have to go out, but again, she just stays here quietly and waits for me to come back.’

Horrified, and knowing she needed to act, but not in what way, Anna said, ‘And no one’s searched the place?’

‘They’ve had no reason to, I’m not under suspicion, at least not of ... being involved in ...’

Alex let the sentence hang, and not wanting to provide the missing words Anna followed her to the main bedroom where the lights were on and the curtains firmly pulled.

‘Ottilie, sweetie,’ Alex said softly, ‘she’s here.’

As Anna watched Ottilie look up from the painting she was doing on a sheet on the floor, she felt such a strange light-headedness come over her that she might even have swayed.

‘N-Anna,’ Ottilie declared, her solemn face breaking into a smile.

Alex looked guiltily at her mother, afraid she might think she’d put Ottilie up to the name, but she hadn’t. It had simply come out that way.

‘Hello my darling,’ Anna said tenderly as she went to lift Ottilie into her arms. Kissing her velvety cheek, she inhaled her deeply sweet scent of baby talc and play paints. She’d missed this little girl a lot more than she’d expected to over the past week, the feel of her pliant little body in her arms, the sound of her sudden bursts of laughter, the knowledge that she and Alex were bringing some much-needed love into her life ... ‘You don’t know how happy I am to see you,’ she murmured into Ottilie’s hair, ‘at least I think I am ... Yes, of course I am, but heaven knows what we’re going to do.’ She turned to Alex, wishing she knew what to say, but was still unable to find her way past the shock.

‘I’ll make some tea,’ Alex said. ‘You must be tired after the journey, so why don’t you sit here with Ottilie?’ She had no idea how normal words were coming out of her mouth, when her life was so far from normal now it might have slipped anchor and drifted away to a place that wasn’t even on the map.

‘Boots,’ Ottilie said, stretching out an arm to pluck him from the bed.

‘Oh, he’s here too, is he?’ Anna laughed, picking him up. ‘I suppose that can only be a good thing.’

She turned back to Alex, who gave an uneasy smile. ‘I grabbed a few things before we left,’ she admitted. ‘It was a bit random, but we’re managing.’ Her eyes moved to Ottilie. ‘I’ll tell you everything,’ she promised her mother, ‘but not until she’s asleep.’

Setting Ottilie back on the floor, Anna took off her coat and dropped to her knees. ‘So let’s have a look at your painting, shall we?’ she said, feeling a flood of tenderness in her heart as Ottilie mimicked her actions.

Leaving the door ajar Alex went downstairs to make the tea, thankful that her mother had stayed with Ottilie rather than come down with her. It wasn’t that she was trying to avoid explaining her actions, it was simply that she didn’t want Ottilie to be alone for a single moment
longer than she had to be. She was even sleeping in the same room as her now, using the mattress she’d dragged in from Gabby’s old bed. It made both her and Ottilie laugh with delight each time she bounced Ottilie into the centre of Douglas and Myra’s giant bed with its antique brass frame and creaky springs. Ottilie seemed to love being snuggled up under the duvet with Boots on the pillow and Alex lying next to her reading a story, or encouraging her to read it too, or singing a song. Over the last couple of days Ottilie had started to sing along with her, making Alex’s heart swell with pride as her musical little voice tripped out the words to ‘I’m a Little Teapot Short and Stout’, or ‘Humpty Dumpty Sat on the Wall’, or ‘This Little Piggy Went to Market’. It was amazing how quickly she seemed to pick up the words, even with Douglas’s classical pieces playing in the background.

She loved to take a bath too, sailing little boats that Alex had found in the attic or trying to blow bubbles from the circle of her forefinger and thumb. She giggled uncontrollably when Alex wrapped her in a towel and tickled her to bits. The constant music made their voices inaudible, and the phone was close by in case the police needed to be in touch.

Alex couldn’t deal with her conscience, because she didn’t even know what it was doing. She could only focus on making Ottilie as happy as she could for as long as she could, while doing her best to coax her away from the terrible habits she’d learned from her father. They came up in ways that were as shocking as they were tragic, but Alex was careful not to make a big deal out of them. She simply explained, very gently, that it wasn’t necessary for her to do those things any more to prove that she was a good girl.

‘I know you’re a good girl,’ she would whisper as she smoothed her hair, ‘because you’re the best and bravest and most beautiful little girl in the world.’

‘And Boots,’ Ottilie would whisper back.

‘Yes, he’s a good girl too,’ Alex would reply, and after a moment Ottilie would laugh.

‘Not a girl,’ she would say.

Alex knew that nothing had ever touched her as deeply as Ottilie’s laugh, unless it was her trust, or sudden bursts of affection. She seemed so content here, so willing to accept this new way of life, bizarre and confined though it was, but why shouldn’t she, after all she’d been through? She never mentioned her parents so Alex didn’t either, though she knew a time would come when she’d have to. For now, she wanted nothing more than to let Ottilie be at peace and feel safe, and as they played together, or chatted, or drew, or sang, Alex felt such a depth to their connection that she couldn’t imagine it being any stronger if Ottilie was actually hers. And one glance from those winsome dark eyes with their flecks of anxiety and shadows of memory was enough to bring out every protective instinct she’d ever possessed.

Yet she had to give her up, and she knew it. There was absolutely no way she could keep her, but God only knew how she’d be able to make herself let go.

‘I’ve tried explaining things to her,’ she told her mother later. ‘I’ve said that she’ll have to go to another home soon with other people who’ll take good care of her, but she gets so upset. “Stay here, stay with you,” she says, and I just don’t have it in me to make her go. I mean, I know I have to, but then I think of how frightened and lost she’ll feel when I walk away, not understanding why I’ve left her ...’

Looking every bit as torn, Anna said, ‘Perhaps we should come to that later. For now, I need you to tell me what actually happened. How she comes to be here at all.’

Pushing her hands through her hair, Alex took a ragged breath as she tried to cast her mind back to that terrible night. It wasn’t easy; she’d done her level best not to think about it at all, but eventually she began reliving the moments she’d found Brian Wade working manically in his shed, and Erica’s obviously dead body in the kitchen.

‘I know I should have called the police right then,’ she stumbled on, ‘but all I could think about was Ottilie ... I was so afraid for her and there was no sign of her. I dashed
up the stairs shouting her name ... At first I thought she wasn’t there. Then I heard a scraping on the cupboard door in her room. I couldn’t get it open, someone had obviously locked her in, but then I spotted a key on the floor. I tore the door open and there she was, terrified ... I don’t know how much she’d seen of what had happened downstairs, I only knew I had to get her away from there. As I scooped her up I kept getting all these flashbacks to when I’d been shut in a cupboard at her age and how I’d waited for you to come ... I started to feel confused about who I was, who she was ... It was like she was me as a child and I was you ... I know it sounds crazy, but it’s how it was. It was only later that I remembered the dream about a woman running down some stairs with a child in her arms. I don’t know if I was having some kind of premonition with that, it seems like it now, but at the time, as it was happening, it still felt like a dream. She was clinging to me so hard and I was terrified Brian Wade would come in and find us. It seemed to take an eternity to get to my car, then she remembered Boots so I put her in the car seat and ran back inside. That was when I grabbed a few other things too. I was sure Brian Wade was going to walk in any minute. I had no idea what I’d do if I saw him, but thank God I didn’t.’

She took a breath and blew it out harshly.

Across the table Anna watched her, feeling for the horror she’d been through, while still trying to see how on earth they were going to resolve the situation she’d created. There were no easy answers; in truth she could come up with no answers at all. ‘So what happened next?’ she prompted. ‘I take it you brought her here?’

Alex nodded. ‘I was going to call the police, but then I couldn’t bear the thought of them taking her, not yet. She was so afraid, and had already been through so much. Imagine what it would have done to her if I’d just handed her over to strangers. She’s come to trust me, you know that, she truly believes I’ll always be there for her, so I couldn’t find it in my heart to let her down. I know it’s completely wrong of me, I’m not trying to say it isn’t, but it feels as though we belong together, and tell me,
who else does she have? She’s only three, for God’s sake, and you’ve seen what spirit she has. In spite of everything that’s been done to her, she’s still trying to be loved, to have a normal relationship with someone ... How, at her age, and given the abuse she’s suffered, can she even know what that is, but somehow, on some level, she seems to, and she’s having it with me. And with you, though I know I shouldn’t drag you into this, and I swear, I’m not trying to. I understand what an impossible position I’m putting you in. If you don’t contact the police right away you’ll become an accomplice, so I understand you have to do it ...’