Chosen Child (6 page)

They took Soraya to Porthgwidden beach where it was
relatively sheltered. It was an odd feeling, thought Ella. Three people who
could become a family – but they didn’t really know each other yet. The tide
was out, but the sea was stormy enough to be impressive, and Soraya squealed in
excitement as the wind whipped her hair across her face. On the beach she started
to collect shells, her eyes dreamy. Ella and Rick wandered along beside her,
Ella pointing out shells and commenting on them. Rick was lost in his own
world, staring across the ocean, hands thrust into his jacket pockets. His
replies were monosyllabic when Ella tried to draw him into the conversation,
and after a while she gave up and concentrated on Soraya, who wasn’t saying
much either but was definitely enjoying her outing. After a while the rain came
on and they ran back to the car.

‘Are you okay?’ said Ella quietly, when Rick had fastened
Soraya’s seatbelt.

His face was drawn. ‘Sorry. My head’s still in India with
the contract we haven’t got yet.’

He was still lost in thought when they arrived home, and
Ella gave his arm a little shake while Soraya was washing her shells in the
bathroom.

‘For heaven’s sake forget about work. We’ve only got her for
another hour and a half. We need your full presence, please.’

He pulled his arm away, and Ella struggled to hide her
exasperation. He might make a bit more effort. Dodgy contracts belonged to
everyday life, but there would never be another first visit. She called Soraya
to the kitchen table, where the girl gobbled down a large slice of cake with a
scoop of ice cream on the side.

‘Can I have some more? Please?’

‘Here you are,’ said Ella, providing a sliver with a small
scoop of vanilla. When Soraya asked for a third portion, however, she shook her
head, mimicking Mel’s manner. ‘Seconds are fine on special occasions, thirds
are mostly too much. But you can take the rest of the cake back with you. It’ll
still be nice tomorrow if you put it in the fridge. You can have a chocolate
biscuit to finish with.’

Soraya took a biscuit. ‘Auntie Mel says no seconds,’ she
said, squinting at Ella across the table, a small smile on her face.

Ella smiled back to gain a few seconds thinking time. Was
Soraya being provocative?

‘Auntie Mel’s right. Seconds are for special occasions, like
your first visit here. Eat up, and when you’ve finished we can go and look at
the garden now the rain’s off.’

To Ella’s amusement Soraya looked abashed. Little monkey,
she’d been testing them. The child passed by on her way to the kitchen door,
and Ella hugged her spontaneously.

‘I’m so glad you’ve come today.’

The beam that had first grabbed Ella’s heart flashed across
Soraya’s face before she wriggled away and ran outside. Ella glanced round for
Rick, but he’d opened up the laptop in the dining room. Didn’t he want to get
to know Soraya? Or was this his way of showing her this child hadn’t been his
first choice? Ella hesitated in the doorway. If she complained too hard he
might go off in a huff and spoil the rest of the visit. Even now, her pleasure
was marred by frustration at his behaviour.

‘Be with you in a minute. I want to check something first,’
he said, then pulled a face at her. ‘I’m being a pain, I know. Sorry. But
there’ll be plenty more visits and you’re more important to her anyway.’

Ella put that remark away to talk about later. He shouldn’t
be going into adoption thinking of himself as the less-important parent – that
would be asking for trouble. Fortunately, Soraya didn’t appear to see things
that way. As soon as Rick appeared she dropped the ball she and Ella had been
throwing about, and ran up to him.

‘Ella says you built the shed.’

‘Didn’t you believe me?’ said Ella, laughing.

Rick laughed too, but Ella noticed the strain on his face.
The contract must still be uncertain, which probably meant it would stay that
way till Monday. Happy weekend. Oh well, maybe he’d have snapped out of it
tomorrow.

The shed was one of the large-size chalet kind, used to
store garden equipment and as a DIY workshop. Ella watched as Rick showed
Soraya how the walls and floor fitted together. The little girl was fascinated
by his collection of tools, and hefted a hammer which Rick promptly removed
from her grasp.

‘That one’s adults only,’ he said. ‘But tell you what, I’ll
get a basket next week and screw it to the end wall, and next time you come we
can play basketball.’

The beam was back immediately, and a lump rose in Ella’s
throat. Poor little scrap she was. If ever a child had been crying out for a
home and a family who loved her, it was Soraya.

‘What do you want to do with your shells?’ she asked. ‘You
can take them back to Auntie Mel’s, or you can leave them with us. You could
have a little patch here for a shell garden, if you like.’

‘Oh! Can we make it over there? Beside the bush with the
butterflies?’ Soraya looked as if she’d been given the moon, and tears shot
into Ella’s eyes.

They spent the rest of the visit constructing the shell
garden, which Soraya had definite ideas about. Two of the butterflies came to
investigate, and the child’s face was a picture. At five o’clock Ella and Rick
stood waving as Mel drove off with Soraya, a plastic bag with a few of the
prettiest shells safely hidden in the child’s jacket pocket, ‘in case the
others take them’.

Ella sighed as the car turned the corner. How empty she felt
now. ‘Well, that’s that till next week. I’m glad she’s coming back so soon, we
- ’

She turned, but Rick had gone back to the garden. Ella
joined him as he stood staring at the shed.

‘It’s a good place to put up a basket,’ she said, slipping
her arm through his and feeling him jump in surprise. ‘Basketball’s the kind of
game kids can play by themselves as well as with other people. Great idea.’

‘What? Oh – yes. I was thinking about something else.’

Ella left him to it. It was a pity he’d been so distracted,
but like he’d said, there would be other visits. She was clearing the kitchen
when Rick appeared suddenly in the kitchen door.

‘I’ll pop back to the office and see how things are going.
I’ll be back in an hour, max. Sorry, love.’

Friday 16th May

Amanda stood in the hallway, hands clamped over her mouth,
retching as Gareth’s phone sounded upstairs. What was she supposed to do now?
Where was the phone, anyway? Was she going to have to
rootle
through his pockets
for it? She collapsed on the bottom step and burst
into tears. She was a widow… She had killed her husband. And she had – two
children. It was a blacker nightmare than she’d ever imagined and there would
be no waking up in the morning.

Jaden toddled through from the living room, a sweetly
concerned expression on his face. ‘Ma-mama.’ He laid plump hands on her knees,
where tiny cuts from kneeling on the floor beside Gareth zigzagged across her
skin. ‘Boo boo?’

Amanda lifted him onto her lap, soaking up his heavy warmth
and baby smell, pulling comfort and strength from her fourteen-month-old son.
She had to get a grip, and fast. Gareth was gone and she could never make that
right again, but Jaden was here and she had to build a life for him and the
coming baby. James was right. There was no way she could go to prison.

But – would she really be sent to prison for something that
had been a complete accident? Gareth and James had started the fight... Amanda
wiped her eyes with her free hand. She had pushed Gareth. To his death. It was
her fault, hers and James’. Would there ever be a way to get past that? If the
police were involved, at the very least she’d be investigated and heaven knows
how long that would take. They would take Jaden from her until it was all
resolved.

And – a shudder ran through her at the thought – the whole
sordid tale would come out. The pregnant adulterous wife who didn’t know who
the father of her baby was. She and James would be on the front page of every
newspaper in the country, the talk of the town. Heads would turn every time she
walked along the street, curtains would twitch and people would whisper behind
her back. The woman whose lover and husband fought to the death.

Amanda stood up, Jaden in her arms. She could
not
let that happen. Her child deserved better.

‘Right, mister,’ she said. ‘Mummy has some cleaning to do
upstairs, so you can sit in the buggy down here with some raisins and watch
Thomas, okay?’

The novelty appealed to Jaden, and she left him safely
strapped in, a saucer of raisins by his side and Thomas and friends tooting
around on the television. Soberly, Amanda gathered cleaning stuff for the
bedroom carpet – was there blood there? – and a bucket for the broken mirror.
Her stomach heaving, she forced her feet upstairs and stood in the spare room
doorway.

James had wrapped Gareth in three large bin bags, one over
his head, another over his feet, and the third taped round his middle. Amanda
dropped the bucket and clapped a hand over her mouth and nose. Shit… it smelled
like shit in here. She’d never be able to open that terrible parcel and search
through Gareth’s pockets. Never again would she touch her husband… Bile rising
in her throat, Amanda scuttled across the landing and called Gareth’s number
from her mobile. Blessed relief washed over her when his phone rang in the
bedroom, yes, there it was under the bedside table. It must have fallen from
his pocket during the scuffle. Amanda grabbed the mobile and sank down on the
bed, her legs suddenly weak.

The call had been from Gareth’s mother, a newly-retired
hairdresser who lived in the west end of Glasgow. Amanda rubbed her chin; she’d
need to get hold of herself before she talked to Susie. Her fingers were all
over the place, but somehow she managed to text.
Busy atm,
call you later x
.

Trembling, Amanda gathered the larger pieces of mirror from
the carpet and vacuum cleaned, hearing splinters of glass tinkle up the tube.
Would she have seven years bad luck now? But Gareth had broken the mirror and
his was the ultimate bad luck. Sobbing, Amanda pulled the one remaining shard
from the wardrobe door and dropped it into the bucket. Had Gareth slipped on
the smooth surface of the glass? If so, he might still be alive if she hadn’t
been vain enough to stick a mirror to a wardrobe door where no mirror was
intended… her fault, her fault. She would hear the crack of Gareth’s neck
breaking every day for the rest of her life.

As far as she could see there was no blood on the carpet,
not even at the foot of the bed where James had been standing. Good. She
sprayed carpet shampoo over the floor where Gareth had been, then went to check
on Jaden and phone her mother-in-law. This was where she had to prove she could
act.

Three times she broke the connection before it rang, then
she bit down hard inside her cheek and forced herself to go through with it.
‘Hi, Suze. How’s things?’

‘Not so bad. I’m looking forward to seeing the three of you.
How’s my boy?’

Nausea flooded through Amanda until she realised Susie was
talking about Jaden. ‘Oh – he’s, ah, enjoying the Thomas DVD you sent him. I –
I’ll take him for a walk on the front soon, get him tired for bed. Suze, Gareth
was going to call you back but he’s crashed out upstairs. It was his leaving do
at work this afternoon.’

Now she had done it. She had passed the point of no return.

Susie laughed. ‘’Nuff said. I know my son. I wanted to
confirm what day you were driving north.’

Amanda’s head was spinning and it was all she could do to
keep her voice steady. ‘Oh – a week on Sunday. Less traffic on the motorway.
We’re planning an overnight stop in Yorkshire so we’ll be with you by Monday
afternoon.’

‘Are you all right, hen? You sound a bit funny.’

Amanda bit her cheek again and tasted blood. ‘Just tired. I
need my holiday.’

Susie accepted this and chatted on for a few moments about
an exhibition she wanted to take them to, then rang off. Amanda took a deep
breath. The cover-up had started. She could no longer claim that Gareth’s death
was an accident. And now she’d do as she’d said and take Jaden for a walk along
the sea front to tire him out. She needed him asleep; she needed alone-time.

The rest of the afternoon passed in a blur. Amanda pushed
Jaden’s buggy along Wharf Road, then let him toddle along the sand for a
quarter of an hour. The outing did nothing for her nerves. Too many other mums
and babies were doing the same thing, enjoying a lovely spring day at the
beach, breakers crashing in the distance and gulls crying mournfully above
them. Shivering in spite of the warmth of the day, Amanda turned back before
she met anyone she knew. Home again, she made Jaden banana sandwiches for his
dinner and sat beside him in the kitchen while he ate. Poor baby, he hadn’t had
a proper meal all day; a snack for lunch because James was coming, then cake,
and now another snack for dinner because his daddy was dead upstairs. Jaden sat
munching with a happy smile on his little face, and Amanda wiped tears from her
cheeks.

How was she supposed to get through the next however many
days acting as if everything was all right? It was a ridiculous idea,
pretending that Gareth had gone on his walk and then disappeared. What if the
police found out what had really happened? She would definitely go to prison.
It was all so unbelievable and so
hurtful
; she was
hurting more than she’d ever hurt in her life, a million times more. She was
numb with hurt.

When Jaden finished eating they went back to the living room
and she put another DVD into the player for him. Now she was being an even
worse mother, but she simply couldn’t sit there playing after tea as she
normally did.