Little Face (4 page)

`Or a bit guilty,' said Simon. `Laura Cryer's death ... 5

'Is a closed case.' Charlie's face hardened. `Don't even think about
going there.' Then, because she disliked ambiguity, she said, `Why? Spit
it out!'

`It's a lot to happen to one innocent man, that's all,' said Simon. `I
can't believe you need me to spell it out. What if Fancourt murdered
his first wife and got away with it?' He crushed his fingers into fists.
`What if he's about to try his luck again? Are we going to do anything
to stop him while he's actually in the building, or are we just going to
let the bastard walk out of here as free as he walked in?'

Friday, September 26, 2003

`WHAT'S WRONG? What's the matter with you?' David is in the nursery, out of breath. I am still screaming. A loud roar, like a siren, is coming from my mouth. I don't think I could stop it even if I wanted to.
A shriller, high-pitched wail blares from the cot. David slaps me across
the face. `Alice, what's got into you? What is it?'

`Where's Florence? Where is she?' I demand. Our ordinary day has
mutated into something terrible.

`Are you out of your mind? She's right here. You woke her up. Ssh.
Ssh, darling, it's okay. Mummy didn't mean to scare you. Here, you
come for a cuddle with Daddy. It's okay.'

`That's not Florence. I've never seen that baby before. Where's
Florence?'

`What the ... what on earth are you talking about?' David never
swears. Vivienne disapproves of foul language. `Of course it's Florence.
Look, she's wearing her Bear Hug suit. You put her in it before you
went out, remember?'

The outfit is the first thing I bought for Florence, when I was six
months pregnant. It is a pale yellow cotton all-in-one, with the words
`Bear Hug' sewn on to it, above a picture of a brown bear cub in its
mother's arms. I saw it in Remmick's, Spilling's only department store,
and loved it so much that I had to buy it, even though by that point
Vivienne had filled the nursery wardrobe with enough clothes from the exclusive boutiques she favours to keep Florence going for the first
three years.

`Of course I recognise the babygro, it's Florence's. David, who is this
baby? Where's Florence? Just tell me! Have we got visitors? Is this
some kind of practical joke? Because if it is, it's not funny.'

David's dark eyes are unreadable. He will only share his thoughts
when he is happy. Misery or trouble of any kind makes him withdraw
into himself. I can see from the shut-down look on his face that the
retreat has already started. `Alice, this is Florence.'

`It's not! You know it isn't! Where is she?'

`Is this some sort of sick joke, or have you gone mad?'

I begin to sob. `Please, please, David, where is she? What have you
done with her?'

`Look, I don't know what's got into you, but I suggest you pull yourself together. Florence and I will be downstairs, awaiting your apology.'
His tone is cold.

Suddenly, I am alone in the nursery. I sink to my knees, then curl
into a foetal position on the floor. I cry and cry for what seems like
hours but is probably only a few seconds. I can't fall apart. I have to
go after them. Time is passing, precious minutes that I can't waste.
I have to make David listen to me, although part of me wishes I could
listen to him, apologise, pretend everything is okay even though it
isn't.

I wipe my eyes and go downstairs. They are in the kitchen. David
doesn't look up as I come in. `That baby is not my daughter,' I blurt
out, disintegrating into tears again. There is so much unhappiness and
fear in me and it is all spilling out, here in Vivienne's kitchen.

He looks as if he is considering ignoring me, but then thinks better
of it. He turns to face me. `Alice, I think you ought to calm down so
that we can discuss this rationally.'

`Just because I'm upset doesn't mean I'm not being rational. I'm as
rational as you are!'

`Good,' says David patiently. `In that case, we should be able to clear this up. If you're seriously suggesting this baby isn't our daughter, convince me.'

`What do you mean?' I am confused.

`Well, in what way is she different? Florence hasn't got any hair.
She's got milk spots on her nose. She's got blue eyes. You'd agree with
all that, presumably?'

`Look at her!' I scream. `She's got a different face! It isn't Florence!'

David stares at me as if he has never seen me before. He thinks I am
a lunatic. He doesn't recognise me as his wife. I can see him drawing
a line, mentally. David is defensive, as emotionally immature as a
teenage boy. I wonder if this is because his mother has always looked
after him. He has never needed to think his way through a complex
adult situation on his own. He would rather cut you out of his life, shut
you out of his mind, than deal with the less-than-perfect reality that
you represent. Problematic people such as his father and Laura are
never mentioned. How long before I too am condemned?

`David, you must know it isn't her. That is not the baby I kissed
goodbye a couple of hours ago. The one we brought home from the
hospital. The one who wriggled and cried when I put that babygro on
her. Take it off!' I yell suddenly, startling myself as much as David. `It's
Florence's! I don't want that baby wearing it. Take it off her!' I back
away into the hall.

`You're acting as if you're scared of her.' I have never seen David
look so disgusted. `Alice, what's wrong with you? There's only one
baby. Florence. This is her.'

`David, look at her!' I yell. I have become a creature, wild and
uncivilised, some sort of beast. `Look at her face. It's a different face,
can't you see that? Yes, she's got blue eyes and milk spots, but so have
hundreds of newborns. I'm calling Vivienne.' I run from the room. In
the hall, my eyes dart from left to right. My vision blurs. Adrenaline
makes me pant. I am so confused and upset, I momentarily forget what
I am doing here, what I am looking for. Then I remember. The phone.

David follows me into the hall. I see that he is alone. `What have you done with the baby?' I ask. I felt uneasy when I could see her. I feel even
more so now that I can't. David pulls the phone out of my hand and
slams it down. `Don't dare to interrupt Mum and Felix's holiday with
this rubbish! Mum'll think you've lost it. Alice, you've got to get a grip.
Listen to yourself.'

Vivienne has taken Felix to Florida for a treat, to celebrate the new
baby. I would have preferred him to stay, but Vivienne insisted that this
was the best way of ensuring that he doesn't resent the arrival of Florence. It is apparently a successful tactic for avoiding jealousy. Vivienne
is an only child and always hated the idea of siblings. She asked her
parents not to have another child, as soon as she was old enough to
understand the concept. What is perhaps more surprising is that they
obeyed her.

David's father wanted a big family. He himself was one of six. `I told
him on no account,' said Vivienne. `A child should grow up feeling special. How can you feel special if there are six of you?' She was careful
to wait until David was out of the house to tell me this story. His father
is never mentioned in front of him.

I am not accustomed to forcing my husband to confront unwelcome
truths. I have always tried to protect him.

`The front door was open,' I say.

`What?'

`When I got back. The front door was open. You were asleep.
Someone must have come in and taken Florence and ... and left that
baby instead! We've got to phone the police, David. Oh, God, Florence! Where is she? What if she's not all right? What if something
awful's happened to her?' I am pulling at my hair, howling.

There are tears in David's eyes. When he speaks his voice is quiet.
`Alice, you're scaring me. Don't do this, please. You're really scaring
me, okay. Please, calm down. I want you to walk into the kitchen, take
a good look at the baby in the bouncy chair and I want you to realise
that it is Florence. It is. Okay?' There is a flicker of hope in his eyes.
He is softening, giving me a final chance. I know how significant an admission of fear is from David. He must really love me, I think. And
now I have to crush his hopes.

`But it isn't!' I insist. `Listen to her crying! Listen!' Poor, poor baby,
confused, screaming for her mother. `That's not Florence's cry. Give me
the phone.'

`No! Alice, please, this is mad. Let me phone Dr Dhossajee. You
need a sedative, or ... some sort of help. I should phone the doctor.'

`David, give me the phone right now or I swear I will get a kitchen
knife and stab you.'

He winces. I cannot believe I said that. Why couldn't I have threatened to strangle him instead? I didn't say it deliberately to hurt him,
but he must think I did.

`David, someone's got our daughter! We've got to do something,
quickly!'

He lets me pick up the phone. `Who are you ringing?' he asks.

`The police. And then Vivienne. She'll believe me, even if you don't.'

`Ring the police if you insist, but not Mum, please.'

`Because you know she'll back me up. That's why, isn't it?'

`Alice, if it isn't Florence, who is it? Babies don't just drop out of the
sky, you know. I was only asleep for ten minutes ... '

`That's long enough.'

`There are tests we can do, DNA tests, to prove it's Florence. We can
sort it all out before Mum gets back. Look, she's my mother, not yours.
It's up to me whether we ring her or not, and we're not ringing her.' David
is babbling desperately. He cannot bear the thought of being observed in
a situation of personal difficulty. I think he regards any sort of unhappiness as a shameful and absolutely private matter. For Vivienne to see him
like this, tangled up in this awful mess, would be his worst nightmare.

`Well, I haven't got a mother, have I?' My voice cracks. 'Vivienne's
the closest I've got and I'm damn well phoning her. Police, please,' I say
into the telephone. `I should never have agreed to move in here. This
house is jinxed!' I snap. `If we lived somewhere else, this would never
have happened.'

`That's rubbish!' David looks as if I've slapped him across the face.
I have insulted his beloved family home. `You can't expect me to
leave my son.'

`Of course I don't! We'd take Felix with us.' This is the most direct
exchange David and I have ever had on the matter of where we ought to live.

`Yes, great, we'll just take him away from Mum, who's been like a
mother to him since Laura died! I can't believe you'd even suggest it!'

`Police, please. I need to report an ... I've just been on hold!'

`This whole thing will blow over. It will blow over,' David mumbles
to himself. He sits down on the stairs and puts his head in his hands.
Despite his efforts at self-control, his misery and shock overtake him.
He has never cried in front of me before. He must be wondering if he
could be wrong, no matter how sure he feels. I realise he will not forgive me for having witnessed this display of emotion.

`Go and comfort the baby. David, listen to me. Please. The baby's
scared.' The helpless, baffled cry pierces my heart. It is all I can do to
remain upright.

Poor, poor Florence. I cannot bear to think about how badly she
might be suffering. All I want is to be able to hug her close to me, feel
her soft, squashy cheek against mine.

A moan rises from David's throat. `What are you saying? Listen to
yourself-"the baby". She's our daughter, our Florence. How can
you do this? Put the phone down! You go and comfort her.' He is furious with me, but also angry with himself for believing so wholeheartedly in his second chance, his new life with me and Florence. He
must feel shamed now, taunted by the elation that he has felt in the past
two weeks. It makes me sad to think that I understand his pain better
than he will ever understand mine.

`Help me, help me, need to report a ... sorry, sorry.' A woman's
voice is telling me to calm down. I am crying so hard that she cannot
tell what I am saying. `I need to report an abduction.' I have to repeat
this twice. The misery of three people echoes around the house. `My
baby daughter, Florence. Yes. My name is Alice Fancourt.'