Stolen (28 page)

Lotte didn’t just listen at the door when they were rowing, she kept her ears pinned back constantly, hoping to find out what they were planning. Unfortunately she mostly only heard snippets of information because they would walk into the lounge or office out of earshot during their conversation. One such snippet was about registering the baby’s birth.

‘It’s normal for the hospital or a midwife present at a home birth to pass on details of the birth to the Registrar,’ Howard said. ‘If we say the baby was born at home without anyone present, they might be suspicious.’

They moved away then and about five minutes passed before she heard Fern speak, her voice raised in anger.

‘Why didn’t you find out before that we only get forty-two days to do it?

Lotte had often lost track of the date and even which day of the week it was during her pregnancy, but she usually got her sense of time back when they gave her a newspaper to read, or let her watch television. She knew the date the baby was born was 20 February because Howard had a newspaper that morning, and from the day after she’d kept a kind of diary in a notebook. She jotted down how she was feeling each day, and anything else which happened, in the hope that if she ever got free it might be evidence against Fern and Howard.

It was the end of March when Fern charged Howard with not finding out they had only forty-two days. Lotte did a quick calculation on her fingers and found it meant the birth must be registered by 9 April.

Howard said something in reply but his voice was muffled. Then Fern yelled at him, ‘You should’ve worked all this out – what are we going to do now?’

‘Get a forged one, but that’s going to take longer,’ Howard snarled back at her. ‘Now get off my back, this is all your doing anyway.’

Lotte gathered from this that Howard was nervous both about registering the birth and getting a passport for the baby. She knew from applying for her own passport to go on the cruise that they checked and double-checked every last thing. They were probably even more vigilant with parents who weren’t from the UK, what with people making fraudulent claims they had children just to get financial benefits.

Yet Lotte felt no glee that the Ramsdens’ plans were falling apart, for angry, worried people didn’t make good parents. What she did feel was white-hot hatred for the couple, and every time the baby cried she was afraid they were hurting her.

It was during one of their many rows, when Lotte could hear the baby crying in the background, that she made up her mind to fight her way out of the basement.

Ever since she got the knife she’d imagined many different ways of attacking them with it, but before the baby was born she hadn’t felt physically strong enough to overpower either Fern or Howard.

Things were changing now, however. By the end of March and through April, Howard often went off leaving Fern alone with the baby, and Lotte knew she must be very tired, and probably not as sharp as she used to be. Besides, Lotte felt so angry and desperate now she thought she could take on anyone.

‘So did you attack one of them with the knife?’ Dale asked.

Her friend’s voice so close to her startled Lotte. She’d been so immersed in what happened to her a few weeks earlier that she’d lost touch with the present, and it was a shock to find Dale lying there next to her and realize she’d been relating it all.

‘I stood up on the top step and waited for one of them to come,’ she said. ‘I must have stood there for over two hours, and during that time I could hear my baby crying. But the house was so quiet, too quiet. I realized they’d gone out and left the baby alone. Can you imagine how I felt about that? I was powerless and unable to comfort her. I imagined her choking, or suffocating under covers she’d pulled over her face. I was scared for myself too, because if they’d leave a baby alone, they’d be capable of leaving me down here to die of starvation as well.’

Dale was horrified by how deeply disturbed her friend was by that memory: she was shaking and wild-eyed, her voice rasping with emotion. She took Lotte’s hand in hers and rubbed it between her hands, murmuring a reminder that she wasn’t alone now.

‘I went back down the stairs later,’ Lotte went on. ‘I was stiff with cold because they’d turned off the heating, so I had to get under the bedcovers to warm up. The hours went by so slowly, but still there was no sound of them upstairs. Six o’clock came and I’d had nothing to eat since a cup of tea and slice of toast at eight. I wasn’t concerned about my hunger, but I was about the baby’s – she was only ten weeks old and she needed a feed every four hours. But she wasn’t crying any more.

‘Then just as I thought all was lost I heard them come in the front door. So I was right, they had left the baby, and that made me savage, but I stayed quiet to listen, and I heard them say something about London.’

Lotte turned her head towards Dale. ‘Can you believe anyone would go to London for the day and leave a small baby alone?

‘They were making coffee in the kitchen and I heard Fern laughing about something, and then she said, “God in heaven, the baby’s not crying!” I was just about to scream out, “Get up there, you bitch, and check if she’s OK,” but Howard said he would go. He even made a joke about how she’d be so hungry she’d need two bottles.’

‘You must have been beside yourself,’ Dale said in sympathy. ‘Was the baby all right?’

‘Well, that was just it,’ Lotte began and her eyes filled with tears. ‘I heard Howard walking up the stairs. You can hear that clearly in here. He seemed to be up there for ages, and I was standing up by the door holding my breath because I sensed something was seriously wrong. Then he came down, really slowly. He went into the kitchen and Fern asked why he hadn’t brought the baby down. He said, “I don’t know how to tell you this, honey, but she’s dead. I think it’s a crib death.” ’

‘She died! Oh my God no,’ Dale exclaimed in horror.

‘I’d had a sort of foreboding all day,’ Lotte sobbed. ‘Even when she was crying it was kind of weak, not the way she cried when she was born. It was very cold without the heating on, she could have pushed her covers off, and a new baby can’t wriggle back under them when it’s cold the way a puppy or kitten would do.’

‘So what did you do when you heard this?’ Dale asked.

‘I banged on the door and yelled at the top of my voice. Howard shouted back at me to shut up or else. He sounded like he’d enjoy an opportunity to beat the shit out of someone. So in the end I thought it would be better to just shut up and wait.’

‘How long did you wait, Lotte?’ Dale looked fearfully at her.

‘Five days, without food and just cold water to drink.’

Chapter Fourteen

Scott woke as David put a mug of tea for him on the floor beside the sofa. He rubbed his eyes, stretched out his legs and felt rather surprised he’d slept so well when the sofa was a foot too short for him.

He glanced at his watch. It was just after seven, and raining heavily, yet David was already washed, shaved and dressed. But dark circles beneath his eyes suggested he hadn’t slept much. ‘So where to today?’ Scott asked, guessing David had spent much of the night planning the day ahead.

‘I think we should start a house-to-house,’ David replied, sitting down on the other sofa. ‘The shops, garages and the pubs too. If Simon and Adam will take Bosham and Fishbourne on the far side of the harbour, we could check out Birdham and Itchenor on this side.’

Scott sat up to drink his tea. The rain was lashing against the window and it wasn’t an inviting proposition to be out in it. ‘I didn’t think to bring a coat,’ he said.

‘I’ve got a spare one you can borrow. But I doubt the rain will last all day.’

They drank their tea in companionable silence. Scott hadn’t noticed much about the house the previous evening, but he saw now that the lounge was quite spartan, with two brown leather sofas, a TV and sound system on a low sideboard, no ornaments or feminine touches. But that seemed odd as the walls were painted a pale peach and the patterned curtains toned perfectly.

‘Did you used to live here with a girl?’ he asked curiously.

‘Yes, a while back,’ David said with a sigh, perching on a footstool. ‘It was a big mistake – she was a high-flying career girl.’

‘What was wrong with that?’ Scott asked.

‘I didn’t want to spend the rest of my life with a woman who cared more about sales projections and profit margins than having a family.’

‘I can’t say I’ve ever given having a family much thought,’ Scott said with a grin. ‘Or getting married for that matter. Just happy to pootle along having a good time, I guess.’

‘It was only living with someone dynamic like Rose that made me realize I’m quite an old-fashioned kind of guy,’ David smiled. ‘I actually want to be a hunter-gatherer.’

Scott threw off his blanket. ‘Well, I’d better get up then so we can go out hunting for the girls.’

They met up with Simon and Adam for breakfast, as arranged, in a café on the A27 near Apuldram. Scott noticed that Simon looked as if he hadn’t slept much either, but then he thought of Lotte as a sister and he felt he’d let her down by not making the flat more secure.

No one had spoken about how it would be if the girls were found dead, yet Scott knew it was foremost in all their minds. He supposed they were all afraid to voice that fear, in case to speak of death was to invite it in.

It was interesting that they had all accepted David as their leader even though he’d only known Lotte for such a short time. He certainly hadn’t pushed for it; he just naturally had that quality to take the helm. The man was direct, quietly confident, with no pomposity at all. Scott though that perhaps that came from being one of eight; after all, you must have to learn from an early age to hold your own or lose your identity, yet also be flexible. But however he got how he was, Scott liked him.

‘So what d’you want us to do today, boss?’ Adam asked.

David half smiled at the title, but made no comment. ‘Go to as many houses as possible, do the shops, pubs, garages, anywhere where people go regularly. Try to stimulate their memories.’

‘How?’ Simon asked.

‘Use your imagination!’ David exclaimed, as if Simon’s question was a daft one. ‘First show them the snap of the girls looking like models, and stress we fear they might be killed if they aren’t found soon. That will get their interest, and then you can show them the snap of Lotte where she looks sad and frumpy. Remind them about her being found on the beach and that there was evidence she’d had a baby recently. A lost baby touches everyone and they might remember seeing Lotte while she was pregnant. The more impression you make on each person you speak to, the more you stir their emotions, the more likely they are to remember something which could be useful.’

The men split up after they’d finished their breakfast and arranged to meet at six that evening to compare notes. David said if one of them got lucky, to ring and tell the other group, and to phone the police immediately for their help.

‘Remember, a lead can come from just the tiniest little bit of information,’ David said emphatically. ‘Make the people you talk to consider whether they’ve noticed anything unusual or out of place in a neighbouring house: maybe the sound of a baby crying, shouting, extra food carried in, lights left on, or coming and going at strange times. Stress that they might be saving the girls’ lives!’

Tears welled up in Simon’s eyes, Adam looked grimly determined, and Scott thought it was astounding that he could feel so close to and involved with men he’d known for such a short time.

Scott bought a newspaper before he and David set off and felt gratified to find another full page about the girls’ disappearance. Ever since David found Lotte on the beach, they’d all felt the press had failed to maximize on the drama of the story. It might have alerted Scott and Dale that the girl was Lotte, but it hadn’t had a huge impact on the general public. Likewise, the police had appeared less than dynamic in their investigation. Yet now the paper reported that they were conducting a house-to-house search in the Selsey area.

‘Why there?’ Scott asked David, as they sat in the car reading the report. ‘Have we got it wrong? Or is it them?’

‘Maybe they’ve got some new evidence,’ David suggested. ‘But they told me that day I found Lotte that she’d been washed along the coast from the direction of Bracklesham Bay. If she’d fallen from a boat sailing out of Selsey, or was pushed, she would’ve ended up around Pagham harbour or even further along the coast towards Bognor.’

‘Should we ring Simon and Adam and tell them about this, then?’ Scott asked, thinking it was pointless them searching on the other side of the harbour if the police thought the girls were in Selsey.

David shrugged. ‘I don’t believe they are there,’ he said. ‘People don’t launch boats in Selsey and there’s certainly no moorings there that I know of.’

‘But Lotte could’ve been kept there and then taken by car to wherever the boat was moored? Maybe the police have had a tip-off?’

David frowned, looking a lot less certain. ‘Maybe I should ring and ask DI Bryan?’

‘Worth a try.’ Scott grinned. ‘He can only tell you to keep your nose out.’

David got his phone out of his pocket and rang the number.

‘It’s David Mitchell,’ he said when Bryan answered. ‘Just read in the paper that you are doing a house-to-house at Selsey. We wondered why there? Have you got a new lead?’

Scott watched David as he listened to the lengthy reply, but there was no discernible excitement, or disappointment. Scott thought he ought to take up playing poker.

‘Yes, we did, and we’re checking out Birdham and Itchenor today,’ David said eventually, his tone defensive.

‘Of course we’ll ring you if we turn anything up,’ he said a few moments later. ‘As long as you do the same for us,’ he added cheekily.

David put his phone back in his pocket. ‘He’d been told we were asking questions in the marina yesterday. I think he was dying to tell us to bugger off home and leave this to professionals, but he didn’t quite have the brass neck to. Instead he gave me a lecture about not harassing people.’

‘So what did he say was going on in Selsey?’ Scott asked.