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Authors: Samantha Hayes

Until You're Mine (33 page)

BOOK: Until You're Mine
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‘Go on,’ Lorraine urged. She was hungry and could feel her stomach gurgling beneath her winter coat. She wanted to get home to Stella.

‘I’d not seen her for quite a while. She’d been in and out of foster homes with us for years. Anyway, she’d only just found out that she was pregnant. My job was to assess her mental state, her living conditions, her drug habits, that kind of thing, so we could decide what to do about her baby. She told me she was really trying to get clean but was finding it hard. She was drinking heavily too. Nothing much was right in Carla’s life. Except . . .’

Claudia looked up at Lorraine. It was a shared moment of understanding.

‘Except the baby,’ Lorraine finished.

Claudia nodded. ‘I could see the flash of hope when she talked about it. She showed me a pair of tiny pink socks she’d bought from the market.’ Claudia let out a half laugh, half sigh. ‘She said she only bought ten fags that day instead of twenty so she could get the little socks. I saw something change in her when she talked about the baby and that’s why I was really shocked when she told me she was going to terminate. She said she just wanted someone to love her back. It really chimed with me.’

It chimed with Lorraine, too. She swallowed down the lump in her throat, refusing to look at Adam, given the conversation they’d just had with Grace. ‘So you discussed going ahead with the pregnancy.’

‘Yes,’ Claudia said frankly. ‘But I swear I wasn’t aware of any medical contraindications. Carla never mentioned anything was wrong with her. I would have told her to see her doctor again. Anyway, my advice wasn’t to keep the baby. That would have been wrong, given her overall circumstances and her drug dependencies. She was barely capable of looking after herself, let alone another life. Chances were I’d only have to take the baby from her when it was born anyway.’

Adam was making notes but Lorraine was just listening, thinking about poor Carla and her dead baby.

‘But given that you knew of her long-standing drug problems, didn’t you assume she might have some underlying medical complications?’ Adam asked.

The shocked and hurt look on Claudia’s face reflected exactly what Lorraine was thinking. She glared at her husband for being so insensitive, but he ignored her.

‘In my job, Detective, it’s never safe to assume anything. But I’m not a doctor and there was nothing on her file about a medical condition. It simply stated that she was booked to have a termination. If she didn’t follow through with that, then it was my duty to protect her unborn baby. The possibility of her pregnancy actually
killing
her never occurred to me. All I saw was a desperate young woman with a tiny fleck of hope in her eye. I wanted her to consider all her options, and that included keeping the baby.’

Claudia stood up and stretched out her back. She pulled a pained face. ‘Carla promised me she’d get off drugs, go to the rehab centre, stop drinking and even cut down on her smoking. She promised not to see the wrong people, and we even spent time cleaning up her flat. That’s not in my job description, but I saw such optimism, such possibility, something perfect growing within her, I admit a big part of me wanted her to cancel the termination. Is that so wrong?’

‘No,’ Lorraine agreed almost immediately. ‘It’s not.’

‘What are your views on abortion, Mrs Morgan-Brown?’ Adam asked. ‘I’m sorry if that sounds insensitive, under the circumstances.’

‘I don’t mind you asking,’ Claudia said pensively while spreading her hands across her baby. Lorraine swore it had visibly grown in size the last couple of days. ‘Being pregnant means the world. I’ve always dreamed of being a mother.’ The smile fell away. ‘Thing is, I never anticipated all the sadness it would bring. But, here I am. Twin step-sons and a little girl on the way.’

‘Sadness?’ Lorraine asked.

‘Unfortunately, this isn’t my first pregnancy. My previous partner and I tried many times for a baby and . . .’

‘It’s OK, love. No need to elaborate.’ Lorraine was sorry she’d asked.

‘No, it’s relevant. I’ve had many miscarriages and stillbirths. No one knows why. So this pregnancy is incredibly precious to me. When I hear about abortions, I try not to be judgemental, but it was more than that with Carla. I somehow felt she needed to have that baby, even with the risk of it being taken away.’ Claudia exchanged looks with each of them, gave them a moment to understand what she was saying. ‘You don’t think my personal feelings somehow clouded Carla’s judgement, do you?’ Her voice was suddenly anxious and guilt-ridden.

‘You were only trying to help,’ Lorraine said.

Claudia was nodding thoughtfully. She sat back down again, still obviously agitated. She chewed nervously on a nail. ‘There’s something else that might be relevant.’ Claudia stood up again and paced about. ‘Oh, but I don’t know. It’s probably nothing, and James would say I’m being utterly paranoid.’

‘It’s those “probably nothings” that often help us the most,’ Lorraine pointed out.

‘Well, OK, but this is confidential, right?’

‘That all depends,’ Adam was quick to say.

‘It’s just that if I tell you and I’m wrong, I don’t want her to know I said anything. It would make things very uncomfortable for me.’ Claudia’s voice was suddenly low and she glanced at the closed door several times.

‘We’ll do our best,’ Adam said unconvincingly.

‘It’s my nanny, Zoe. I think you met her briefly the first time you called round,’ Claudia said directly to Lorraine. ‘Well, I had reason to be . . . to be looking for something in her room the other day. I know that doesn’t sound right but trust me, I’m glad I went in there. To get to the point, I was looking at pictures on Zoe’s camera. Yes, yes, I know I shouldn’t have been . . .’ Another moment of guilt. ‘Anyway, I’m glad I did. There was a photograph of . . .’ Claudia hesitated again, struggling to get it out. It finally came through a deep sigh. ‘There was a photograph of Carla Davis’s case file on Zoe’s camera.’

She seemed relieved to have told them yet suddenly even more nervous. ‘It had all Carla’s personal details on such as her address, age, date of birth, GP, and her basic issues. It’s obviously confidential information. I feel absolutely terrible that this has happened. It’s completely my fault for bringing the file home. I thought I’d kept the file locked up in the study the whole time, but I must have been mistaken. I have absolutely no idea why Zoe would want Carla’s details.’

‘Is she here now?’ Adam asked.

Claudia pulled a pained face. ‘She’s gone out but could be back any time.’ She glanced at the door again. ‘Look, it sounds crazy, but I don’t really want to stir things with her. I mean . . .’ She was becoming distressed. ‘Perhaps I was mistaken. I only glimpsed the photograph quickly. I zoomed in but the camera screen was so small. I could have misread it, I suppose.’

‘We’ll need to speak to her, you understand?’ Lorraine said.

‘I really don’t want Zoe upset by this because if she leaves, I’m stuffed. James is away and . . . and I’m going to need the help.’

‘There are other nannies,’ Lorraine said kindly. ‘But surely if there’s an innocent reason for the photograph, then Zoe won’t leave you. She’ll be happy to explain.’

Claudia thought for a moment. ‘I suppose you’re right. It’s just that being on my own, I feel rather vulnerable.’

‘We understand,’ Lorraine finished. ‘We’ll come back another time to speak to Zoe.’

‘And it’s probably best if you don’t mention this to her in the meantime,’ Adam added.

‘One last thing,’ Lorraine said.

Claudia raised her eyebrows. ‘Yes, anything.’

‘Does the name Heather Paige mean anything to you?’

She pulled a puzzled face, flicking her eyes to the ceiling for a second in thought. ‘Sorry, no. Why?’

‘So no one called Heather Paige has ever been to this house either recently or in the past?’ Adam said in a more accusatory tone than Lorraine would have liked.

‘Definitely not,’ Claudia said.

‘Well, thanks for everything,’ Lorraine said, standing up. ‘We’re so sorry for having taken up your time.’

‘No problem,’ Claudia replied. She followed them to the door and shook hands with them as they left.

35

I WATCH THEM
leave, although they don’t know it. I am peering out between the thick hallway curtains in the dark, tracking the red tail lights of their unmarked car as they drive off down the street. When they are out of sight, I go back to the sitting room and drop down onto the sofa. I pinch myself hard on the arm for being so stupid.

Why did I have to go and tell them about Zoe and the photographs? She’ll find out everything now and be furious I was in her room. She’ll be mortified that I don’t trust her, she’ll be paranoid about the future, and no doubt by tea-time tomorrow she’ll have packed her bags and left.

And where does that leave me?

Not a good start to a trusting relationship. If James was here, he’d tell me to ask her immediately if she’d been in the study, clear the air, be open from the outset. He wouldn’t like all these secrets.

I’m certain there must be a rational explanation, and it suddenly occurs to me that perhaps Zoe picked up our camera by mistake. It was lying about after the aquarium trip and they are very similar models. Perhaps the photographs were already on there and it was James who took the pictures, though I have no idea why he would want to. Apart from the one I zoomed in on, I have no idea what the other photographs were, although I could see that they also appeared to be documents. That scenario, although unlikely, wouldn’t seem quite so sinister. But when I go to check if our camera is in the kitchen drawer where I usually keep it, it is right there where I left it. I check through the pictures in case Zoe had put it back after realising her mistake, but there are no images of paperwork.

‘Oh James,’ I say, returning to the sitting room. ‘What should I do?’

What should I do?
I must have asked him those words a thousand times since we’ve been together. I think the first time he heard them was when I admitted my love for him. We were sitting by the canal, holding hands and excavating thoughts from the depths of each other’s eyes. To onlookers, we must have appeared like a pair of lovesick teenagers, but it wasn’t long before James had to go back to sea and I wanted to know if we had a future. It all seemed very wrong, so soon after Elizabeth.

‘What should I do?’ I took a sip of my drink. I pulled my cardigan around my shoulders as a shiver dug into my body. It was a warm night but I knew that the rest of my life rested on the answer to that question.

‘What should
you
do?’ he’d replied incredulously. ‘It’s not you, Claudia, it’s
us
. I know you feel responsible. I know you’re holding back for my sake.’ He squeezed my fingers. I felt safe.

I bowed my head. ‘People will talk,’ I said.

‘Stuff other people,’ James replied. ‘They know nothing about how we feel.’

‘It’s so soon,’ I reiterated. I’d said it a thousand times already.

‘Elizabeth would want me to be happy,’ James said. ‘She was remarkable like that.’

‘I’m sad I never got to meet her,’ I said, but then realised that if I had, James and I wouldn’t be talking about living together. Was it selfish to feel glad that she’d died? We’d been seeing each other for several months by then. By seeing, I mean on a level far greater than me helping him secure the boys’ welfare. James was doing a fine job caring for the twins. In fact, I believe that between immersing himself in looking after his sons and our burgeoning relationship, the babies and I carried him through the early stages of his grief.

‘It just seems too soon,’ I insisted. ‘People
will
talk, whether we like it or not, James. They’ll say I’m some kind of vulture, moving in to take Elizabeth’s place.’ I wanted to weep with frustration but I held it back. After everything that I’d been through, after pretty much giving up hope of ever meeting anyone else after breaking up with Martin – we’d been together eleven years after all – I never thought I’d find love again, let alone have a family.

‘I don’t care,’ James told me. He pulled me close and felt my shivers. ‘Hey,’ he said gently, ‘don’t be scared.’ That’s when he took me by the shoulders and held me at arm’s length. My left cheek had a single stray tear that I cursed for escaping, for betraying my feelings. ‘I want you to move in with me and the boys, Claudia. I want that more than anything else in the world. Say you will.’

Inside the privacy of my head, my answer snapped out immediately:
Yes!
But I knew better than that so I put on my thoughtful face, tried to quash the smile that wanted to erupt. This was the start of a new life. Finally, after all the heartbreak and emotional turmoil I’d suffered with Martin, I was being offered another chance at happiness. I’d never thought it would happen. ‘That’s utterly crazy,’ I said with a laugh. James laughed, too. In fact, he’d laughed in the days immediately after learning of Elizabeth’s passing, and I couldn’t quite understand. Now, knowing him as I do, I realise it was his way of coping. A person can only take so much stress before their minds naturally divert them as close as possible to normality. It’s self-protection and, to a certain extent, I was doing exactly the same thing. We were both on the rebound, both hopelessly lost and needy, though trying to be terribly sensible and grown up about it.

‘Crazy, yes. But I’ve fallen in love with you, Claudia. I want to marry you. I want you to be a mother to Oscar and Noah.’

I only heard the words
I want you to be a mother
. It was the nearest he ever got to a proposal. The actual wedding seemed to flow as naturally as me cooking supper or taking care of the boys without him ever actually asking again.

How many times had I tried to be someone’s mother? How many times had I failed?

Suddenly, I wasn’t a failure any more. I ignored the shrieks of doubt in my head; indeed, I ignored the cautious warnings of family and friends when they raised eyebrows and made comments about the dubious timing of my relationship with James.
He’s just lost his wife, Claudia . . . Do you really want to take on someone else’s children?  . . . His money’s come from his dead wife . . . 
I had no idea of the extent of what Elizabeth left him or her family fortunes; I’m still uncertain about James’s private affairs. But the comments and warnings came thick and fast from do-gooders uncomfortable with my new-found happiness.

BOOK: Until You're Mine
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