The Missing One (53 page)

The big male surfaced again – she'd know that enormous dorsal, with its propeller nick, anywhere, even without binoculars. It was definitely A5.

Jonas had that look of concentrated adrenalin as he
shot another roll of film. Nothing else mattered to him right now; he focused and clicked, again and again. This obsession was what she'd always loved about him; it was untouchable, unchangeable – a certainty. As she watched him squint through the lens, she felt suddenly jealous. She'd been like that too, before the babies. But motherhood had changed her in a way that fatherhood hadn't changed him. She wasn't fearless any more.

Her stomach clenched as a bigger wave lifted the boat up – suspended it for a second before the stern thumped back down. She tightened her arm around Kit's back but he was craning his neck to see behind him, watching over the side of the boat for the next whale to surface. His chubby little legs weren't even long enough to reach the edge of the seat but she recognized the look on his face – the absolute intensity.

‘Look at that sky.' Susannah's voice was hoarse and dry. ‘Are you sure this is a good idea?'

‘I know. We won't stay out long.'

She counted them all – she knew each whale by name – the matriarch with her daughter, and her two big grandsons – the biggest male with his propeller wound and his sister – and then, yes, it really was; Elena half stood up – a new calf! Tucked right next to its mother.

‘Tlinglit had a baby!'

Jonas had the camera up to his face, pointed at the baby. She turned to Susannah. ‘Hey – see the calf, right there? It's new. It's a brand-new baby!'

But Susannah was still squinting at the sky.

Then Elena turned, too, and she saw the low and heavy clouds and the waves rising to meet them. The wind wailed across the water at them, throwing surf in their faces and another big wave hit, and the Zodiac tilted again. She tightened her arm round Kit's sturdy little body; the other around Kali in the sling. The pit of her stomach felt empty and cold.

‘Jonas,' she shouted over the wind. ‘We have to go back.'

He glanced back at her. ‘You have to be kidding me – you know what this is.'

‘I don't care. We have no life vests and this storm is coming too fast.'

But he didn't look at the sky behind her – he fixed his camera on the new calf again. Tlinglit surfaced so close to the boat that every mark on her glossy skin was visible and her little baby followed, as if glued to her side. Elena wondered if she was warning them away from the baby. Kit had both hands on the edge of the boat, craning to see over. Behind him, the dark sky closed in. She held Kit tight, and shouted at Jonas's back. ‘We have to turn around. Now!'

He didn't even lower his camera.

‘Jonas,' she shouted over the wind. ‘Look what's coming at us, for Christ's sake!' He glanced up and she pointed at the horizon. It was closing in, much too fast.

But he went back to his viewfinder. ‘One minute.'

‘We have no life vests!'

He focused on the pod.

‘Jonas. Turn the damned boat around!'

He didn't. So, she stood up. ‘Go sit with Susannah.' She
lifted Kit off the seat with her one arm and held him out at Susannah. ‘Hold on to him – hold him tight,' she said, as Susannah took him. ‘Don't let go of him – don't let go.'

She shoved past Jonas, who wobbled, almost dropping his camera. Purple clouds swarmed.

‘For fuck's sake, Elena.'

She grabbed the wheel. If he wouldn't bring their children back to safety, then she damned well would.

‘Elena,' he boomed at the back of her head. ‘Jesus fucking Christ.'

She turned on the engine. ‘I'm taking us back.'

‘The fuck you are!'

She felt his hand on her arm.

I need to get away. I ease Finn onto the sofa and scrape everything into my bag. I can't be here. We have to get out of here. I need to get us home.

I can't think about what I just read.

Survived by …

I just need to go home.

I look at Finn. If I wake him, he might cry – and then he'll wake her. I can't have her back down here when I'm trying to get away. But I have to be prepared. We might have to walk for a while out there. I don't know how far away the nearest house is. And what if we get lost? I need supplies from the kitchen – food and drink and nappies.

I tuck the parka over my sleeping boy. Then I tiptoe to the bottom of the stairs, and I listen. Nothing. Just the creak of the floathouse and the slap of waves. I wait for a moment or two more. I'm reluctant to leave Finn alone on the sofa, in case the creatures that are living in the walls of this house come out and crawl on him. Crawl on my bag. Crawl on the
red file. Shred everything with their needle teeth. But I need to know that she's sleeping if I'm going to leave him on the sofa and go into the kitchen.

I take a few steps further up the twisting staircase. Each step creaks. It is dark. I pause. There is no sound in the bedroom. I get to the top of the stairs, half expecting her to be there, looming out of the darkness. But the doorway is empty. The room is shadowy and panelled. It smells of rotten wood and sea and birds' nests. There is a peaked ceiling and a big bed beneath it. It is bitterly cold up here. As my eyes adjust, I can make out a hunched shape in the bed. There is no movement. I watch the shape, and listen with every fibre in my body. Another gust of wind hits the house and the window panes rattle. The sea sucks at the rocks and the house sways. She does not move or twitch. She has to be asleep.

I creep as silently as possible back down the stairs.

Finn is face down, as I left him, wrapped snugly in the parka. He's fine. I go back over to the bottom of the stairs again, and listen once more. I'll hear her, anyway, if she comes down those creaking stairs while I'm in the kitchen.

A beige light is seeping in through the kitchen windows and I don't need the torch to see the decay; weeds worm through the window frames, there are flecks of peeled paint on the floor, the gingham curtains have been shredded by some animal.

I dig around in the bags of food, finding the bottle of water and taking great gulps of it, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand. I realize I am famished. I grab some
bread rolls and a couple of cereal bars and, using the bottled water, I rinse Finn's duck cup, then fill it with milk. Somewhere in the forest, not too far off, something howls. I tear open a cereal bar and bite into it, swallowing the sweetness, gulping water between bites.

Then I hurry back into the living room.

And I stop.

Susannah is standing with her back to the stove. She is holding Finn. I drop the food with a thud. ‘What are you doing?' I swallow. I march towards her. ‘Give him to me.'

Finn's face is bleary – she has woken him by picking him up – but he isn't crying. He holds out his arms to me but before I can take him, she swoops him around and away from me. She has my bag, too, strapped across her body, it flaps as she turns and I glimpse the red file inside.

‘What are you doing?' I say again. ‘Stop!'

Finn opens his mouth. ‘Mama!' He struggles against her, squirming to get to me. ‘Mama!'

‘Give him to me, Susannah.' Trying not to scare Finn, I keep my voice as even as possible. ‘Give him to me right now.' If I try to grab him there might be a struggle and I can't do that to him. I can't try to wrench him out of her arms. He could get hurt. And it will terrify him. ‘I'll take him, OK, Susannah? Then we'll talk about it. OK?'

She looks at me oddly, her head cocked. ‘His father needs to see him now.'

‘Yes. That's right. That's exactly where he's going, that's where I'm taking him now. His father is in England. His father is Doug.'

She scowls.

‘Susannah. Please give him to me and we'll talk. I promise. Just give Finn to me now.'

‘Talk?' she says, lifting her chin high, her strong arms pinning Finn to her body so he can't reach me. He starts to cry. His eyes are frightened and wide. ‘What do you want to talk about?'

‘Nothing.' I step towards her. ‘He's crying, Susannah. You're hurting him.'

‘Don't move,' she growls. ‘Stay.'

‘You're confused.' I step towards them again. ‘Just give him to me then we can talk. You can tell me what happened. You can tell me everything that happened. OK? You can tell me everything. Help me to understand what happened.'

She steps backwards. ‘Do we really have go over all this again, Elle? Do we? We do? OK. Fine! Your face was turning blue. I mean, what would you have done? Tell me that? What would you have done? You told him to turn the boat around. The storm was coming so fast. It was madness to be out there, the two of you yelling, and with the babies on board – Kali strapped to your chest for Christ's sake – and those whales milling around, too close to the boat – the wind was picking up. It was fucking madness, Elena! Total fucking madness!'

I take another step closer but she raises herself up, pulling Finn to one side, away from me. ‘He was going to kill you, Elle. He had his hands on you … I had to do something.'

‘Yes.' I try to sound soothing. ‘I know. Of course you did.' I step closer. ‘Now, give him to me, and we can talk about this properly.'

‘No.' Her eyes don't leave my face. ‘I have to show Jonas that he's back. You told me to.'

‘I really didn't.'

‘Mamaaa?' Finn struggles to hold out his arms, but she pins them back down. ‘Mamaaaa?'

‘It's OK, love,' I say. ‘It's OK. I'm here.'

‘No,' Susannah snaps, pulling him further away from me. My bag slaps against her thigh, a flash of red. Finn wails, ‘Mamaaaa!'

‘We were all going to drown out there!' she shouts. ‘He was attacking you, and the baby too. He was going to crush her against you. He was going to kill you both. I've seen that before, don't forget! I know what it's like.'

‘That baby was me, Susannah. It was me: Kali. I'm Kali. I'm not Elena. You're confused. You're mixing things up. Now just let me hold Finn, OK?'

‘The oar was right there, what would you have done?' She looks at me, head on one side, as if posing a metaphysical question. ‘Just tell me that, Elena, what would
you
have done?'

‘You did the right thing.' I edge closer, nodding. ‘The only thing you could have done. Absolutely, definitely the right thing.'

‘Maaamaaaa.' Fat tears roll down Finn's cheeks. I reach for him again, but she whips him away. His hands jerk up and down and he looks startled, then wails with fear.

‘I just didn't see Kit, I didn't know he'd gotten behind Jonas – I didn't – he was just too small. You have to believe me, Elena. I had to do something. You would have done the same thing for me. Wouldn't you?'

I step forwards again. ‘Yes, of course I would,' I say. ‘Of course. It's OK, Susannah. I completely forgive you. You did the right thing. You really did. Just give me the baby now, OK?'

Finn reaches his hands out to me, sobbing. His tears leave pale streaks on his cheeks.

I lurch forward for him, but she swoops him away again and across to the sofa. ‘That wave came right up over us, do you remember? For a moment I thought it was that big bull, flipping the boat.' One of the hands that is holding Finn flies to her head again and she slaps her temple. ‘I can't live with these images in my head.' She shakes her head. ‘I think about ending all this – you must too. Don't you?' Her face brightens for a moment, as if this is a brilliant plan. ‘Don't you think we should just end this?'

‘No.' I edge towards her again. ‘No, not really, Susannah, I don't think that's a good idea at all. I think you need to give me Finn, give me the baby, and we'll sit down and we'll talk about all this and it will all be OK. I promise. Susannah, you need help. It's OK. I want to help you. Just give me my baby.'

‘What I need,' she smiles, ‘is to keep this child safe. I know what you're trying to do. I am not going to let anything happen to him this time. I am
not
. And I need to show Jonas that Kit is back and I am forgiven – he needs to see Kit.' She shoves my bag back, swishing Finn, too roughly. He wails again.

‘This isn't Kit,' I shout. ‘It's not Kit! This baby is Finn – mine, my son. Not Elena's. And Jonas is dead. Susannah, try
to think, OK? Think hard. I know you'll know this, if you'll just think. Please. Give him to me.'

She looks confused, and for a second I think I've got through to her. ‘You're not Elena … ' she falters. ‘But wait. If you're not … then … she's … Oh! I know now. She's here too … She'll be coming … she'll be out there! They're both out there. They're waiting for him!'

‘Susannah. You have to stop this right now. None of this is real. Elena isn't out there. She's
dead
. The whales aren't dead people. That's all got twisted up in your head. This little boy is my baby – he's Finn – and you need to give him back to me right now. He'll be safe with me.' I slide closer. I can almost reach him now. ‘I love him. He'll be totally safe with me, OK?' I hold out my arms, as unthreateningly as I can, and seeing them, Finn launches himself at me again.

But her face twists, and she wheels him away, out of my reach; he lets out a high-pitched shriek. He kicks and writhes and I see her big, hard, dirty fingers, digging into his leg. I throw myself at him. She thrusts out one arm and thwacks me square in the chest so that I stagger backwards. My spine crashes against the stove. Finn's howls bounce off the wooden walls.

‘Stop!' I stagger to my feet, hurling myself back across the room. But she bats me off again with one muscular arm.