The car vibrated violently all the time, he was shaken it
seemed into his bones; he gripped the bar, swallowed.
Down, round, up the straight, then the fierce angular bend:
and then again and then again. It was not like driving at all,
it was like in some way flying through the earth, he had
become part of it, part of the speed and the surface and the
tension. Five times they went round; he looked at the
speedometer: almost a hundred now on the vicious curve, a
hundred and thirty on the straight. He was beginning to feel
very sick, very dizzy; he clung visually to the track, tried
not to look to left or right. And then at last, at last they
were slowing, slowing to a feeble eighty, seventy, fifty,
thirty — grinning, pulling off the tight helmet, climbing out,
standing on legs that were weak, trembling, looking for
Oliver Nichols, his partner in the adventure: but Nichols
wasn’t there, Octavia was there, ashen, her eyes huge,
somehow sunk into her face, and she rushed over to him
and pulled at his arm and said, her voice hysterical, raw with
terror, ‘Tom, Tom …’ and ‘What is it?’ he said. ‘Whatever
is it?’ and ‘It’s Minty,’ she said, ‘it’s Minty, she’s gone.
Louise has taken her.’
It took a while for him to understand what had actually
happened, that Louise had actually stolen Minty, kidnapped
her. Or so Octavia was saying, gasping out in between sobs; it just didn’t seem to be possible. He felt he was in the car again, back on the track, dizzy, sick, confused; Zoe must
have just wandered off with her, he said to her, his mind
refusing to engage in this new horror, this new latest
episode in his love affair turned horror story; that’s no
problem, we just go to the BBC tower, ask them to make
an announcement, someone will have her, don’t be silly,
calm down.
But no, no, she had said, no, you don’t understand.
Louise is here, she has Minty, she stole her from Zoe; now
how could she have done that, he said, how could she
possibly be here, she’s ill, she’s in a nursing home in Bath.
But gradually the foolish, hysterical lie had become sober,
horrible truth. Louise had been, was there; she had gone up
to Zoe, talked to her, been friendly, so friendly, asked what
she was doing, said where was Dickon, she must go and
find him, she’d suddenly decided to come, maybe they
could have a cup of tea first, she and Zoe, and Zoe had said
yes, why not, as you would; and they’d gone to a cafe and
Louise had said I’ll wait here with Minty, you go and get
the tea, and Zoe had gone up to the counter and bought
two cups of tea, and when she came back, Minty and
Louise were gone.
‘I thought at first she must be somewhere else,’ said Zoe,
who had been waiting a few yards behind Octavia, white
and shaking; they were standing, the three of them, frozen
with fear. ‘I thought she’d gone to sit on the grass or
something, so I looked, you know, for a bit, wasted time, I
suppose. Oh, God, I’m so sorry, so dreadfully sorry, I feel so
terrible.’
‘No, you mustn’t,’ Tom said soberly. ‘Anyone would
have done the same. I would. You didn’t know she’d been
ill?’
‘No, not really. I knew there was some — problem.’ She
looked awkwardly at Octavia. ‘I’d kind of gathered it from
Mum, but not that she was ill. She seemed so normal today,
she was so nice, asked me if I was still going to Oz, said she
had friends in Sydney. I did think she was wearing some
rather odd clothes, but — oh, God. God, I wish Mum was here
She started to cry and Octavia put her arm round her.
‘It’s all right, Zoe”. It’s not your fault.’
‘It is, it is. I — God, I feel so stupid, so …”
‘We must get an announcement put out,’ said Tom,’;
have the gates closed. At once.’
‘We’ve told the police,’ said Octavia dully. ‘They’re
putting out an announcement. In fact — yes, listen.’
‘Ladies and gentlemen. If I could have your attention,
please. A baby is missing. Name Araminta Fleming, known
as Minty, aged ten months, dark hair, blue eyes, wearing a
pink dress. Probably in a baby buggy. If you have seen her,
or if you’ve found her, if you are looking after her…’
Looking after her, thought Tom, what an absurd phrase,
but he supposed the police knew what they were doing,
that they must be careful, tactful. And maybe Louise was
just looking after her, maybe it had been a genuine error,
that she had wandered off, lost Zoe, was looking for her. ‘If
you are looking after her,’ went on the voice, ‘please bring
her immediately to the control tower, so that we can
reunite her with her parents…”
They were standing just underneath the control tower;
they all looted rather helplessly round, as if expecting
Minty immediately to reappear.
A large policeman came over to them, walking rather
ponderously. That didn’t bode well, the slow walk. It
meant they hadn’t found her. ‘That should do it, Mrs
Fleming. If she is indeed here.’
‘Yes. Yes, thank you.’
‘Try not to worry. People are very good. I daresay she
toddled off, someone found her, is bringing her over here
even now.’
‘She couldn’t walk,’ said Octavia dully. ‘She’s too little.’
‘Can you close the gates?’ said Tom. ‘To stop her going
out?’
‘We’ve got someone watching the gates now, sir, with a description of the little girl and the lady she was last seen with. Can’t actually close them, no.’
‘Why the hell not?’
‘It’s virtually impossible, sir, this not being quite an emergency.’
‘Of course it’s an emergency!’
The policeman ignored him. ‘And other people are still
arriving, all the time.’
‘And my daughter meanwhile gets kidnapped? I’m not
very impressed. I do warn you, I shall hold you responsible
if-
‘Let’s all just look for her,’ said Octavia. She was very
pale still, but oddly calm. ‘It’s true, we don’t yet know how
much of an emergency it is. Tom, you stay here, just in
case. Zoe, you go back towards the building. I’ll go the
other way.’
‘And we have people looking for her as well, of course,’
said the policeman. ‘All our people and the Brands Hatch
security guards as well, all on the alert.’
‘Yes. Yes, all right,’ said Tom. ‘Where are the other
children?’
‘Lauren and Drew have them.’
‘Dickon as well?’
‘Yes,’ said Octavia very quietly.
Octavia set off down in the direction of the restaurant;
walking first forwards, then backwards, so that she could
keep looking all around her. The crowds were thick; she
kept bumping into people. At first she apologised, then
became angry with them, simply for being there, for being
in her way, for keeping her from looking, from finding
Minty. The day itself had become nightmarish; the
screaming of the cars on the track, the endless announcements,
inaudibly loud, the crowds, the smell of oil and
petrol and hot dogs and chips. She felt sick, utterly alone;
she began to hallucinate, to see Minty, to see Louise,
walking towards her. Twice she saw Minty’s dark curls over
the top of a buggy, rushed forward, crying, ‘Minty Minty,’
only to see a puzzled face, a strange baby. And she saw Louise, saw golden flowing hair, a slender graceful body,
long slim legs, ran after her too, wanting to shake her, hit
her, grab Minty back: only each time it wasn’t Louise,
simply another blonde, without her lovely face, without her
crazy, evil mind.
She had made it; she had done it. She was out of the car
park, back on the road, driving towards the M25. Minty had
protested, cried a lot while she pulled her out of the buggy,
strapped her into the car seat. Now she was sitting
hiccuping, her thumb in her mouth, her eyes big with
anxiety. Well, it couldn’t be helped. She would comfort
her, take care of her later.
She had expected to be stopped all the way to the car, to
feel a hand on her shoulder, a voice calling her; she hadn’t
dared run, it would have looked suspicious, but she’d
walked very fast, steering the buggy in and out of the
crowds. She found the car all right, but someone had
parked just a bit too close on the side the baby seat was and
it had been hard to get Minty in, she’d had to hold her
sideways, squeeze her in. Minty had screamed in protest.
And then she’d had to climb in the other side, sit on the
back seat beside her to strap her in. And while she was
about it, she pulled off the horrible nylon top; she’d kept
her T-shirt on underneath. That way she was less likely to
match any description. It was all taking so long, though.
Surely someone would come? Zoe would have raised the
alarm by now. But they didn’t; and looking at her watch,
incredibly only three and a half minutes had passed since she
had walked away from the table in the cafe.
She climbed out of the car, leaped into the driving seat,
started the engine: the most terrifying moment had been
driving out of the gates, she was sure there would be a
security alert by now, that the man would have been told to
stop her. But there was a great flood of cars coming in, he
was very busy; she drove out, carefully, not too fast, to
avoid attracting attention, but once on the A20, then she could put her foot down, really get moving. Not too fast of course, she didn’t want to be stopped for speeding, that
really would be counterproductive; but at the top of the
speed limit. And there was a lot of traffic, of course, going
in the other direction, making for Brands Hatch. She
seemed to have the road practically to herself.
She kept looking at Minty in the driving mirror, still
wide eyed, still obviously frightened. ‘I’m sorry, Minty
darling,’ she kept saying, her voice soothing, soft. ‘Sorry.
Won’t be long.’
She wondered if Minty would like a drink; she had
prepared a couple of non-spill cups with juice in them, but
she didn’t dare stop to give her one. Maybe at the service
station… No, that would be dangerous, they might be
looking for her there. She’d slip off at one of the turnoffs,
do it there.
Marianne went for a short walk after lunch, it was such a
lovely day. Romilly had gone out with friends to Richmond,
Marc to meet some girl. The answering machine
was bleeping when she got back. Probably Romilly to say
she was going back to someone’s house. But it wasn’t
Romilly. It was Mrs Harrington.
Sandy was half asleep in front of a football match that he’d
recorded, when the phone went. He sighed. Hopefully this
wasn’t going to be Louise, wanting to be fetched already.
He even debated leaving it, letting the answering
machine pick it up, then thought that no, he really
shouldn’t do that, it would be very irresponsible. And
anyway it might be nothing to do with Louise; it might be
Dickon. Or Megan or Pattie. He picked up the phone.
‘Sandy Trelawny.’
But it was to do with Louise.
‘I spoke to Charles,’ said Octavia. ‘He couldn’t believe it,
said we must have made a mistake.’
How could anyone be upset about anything, Tom
thought, except their child being in danger? Possibly deadly danger. How could he have been upset about anything
himself— his wife having an abortion, wanting to divorce
him, his father-in-law hating him, his company going bust,
his mistress taking an overdose — how could he have
thought any of it important, any of it mattered in the least?
‘And she’s in Anna’s old car. I have the number, I’ve
given it to the police. I wish they’d take it more seriously,
they don’t seem to—’
‘I know, I know. But they’ve heard this all before,
remember. It happens here all the time. Kids getting lost. As
far as they’re concerned, ninety-nine times out of a
hundred, they turn up. And all the stuff about Louise, it just
sounds like so much fantasy to them. And to be fair, I
thought I’d lost Dickon earlier.’
‘Yes, but Tom, Dickon’s five. He can walk about on his
own, wander off. They must realise Minty can’t do that.’
‘Yes. I know.’
‘And meanwhile, Louise has probably been gone for
ages. Miles away by now.’ Her voice was rising, shaking
with panic.
‘Maybe not. It’s only—’ He looked at his watch. What
had happened to time, how could this endless nightmare
have been going on for only twenty minutes?
‘Where on earth do you think she might go? Take
Minty. It doesn’t make sense. I mean, she can’t take her
home, can’t take her to Rookston …’
‘She might. Who knows what she might do? Octavia,
she’s mad.’
‘Mad and very clever. Talking to Zoe about Australia
while they walked to the cafe, getting her confidence.
Coming here at all. She’s obviously been planning it for
ages, she knew we were coming, that Dickon was coming.’
‘Yes, of course she did. Poor Zoe’s completely hysterical.
Nico’s been terrific. He’s managed to calm her down.’