No Child of Mine (17 page)

Moments later she was through to her Aunt Sheila, barely even asking how she was, or if it was convenient to talk, as she launched into what Millie had told her.

‘Oh my, oh my,’ Sheila sighed sorrowfully when she’d finished. ‘I honestly don’t know why Millie would have come out with something like that, except she’s very muddled these days, as you would know better than most.’

‘Her long-term memory isn’t too bad,’ Alex protested, ‘and she seemed quite lucid for the few moments she was talking about her.’

‘Well, all I can tell you is that I’ve never heard anyone say that she’s dead. To be honest, I’m not sure how your parents would have known anyway. As far as I’m aware they weren’t in touch with her, and I’m sure Myra would have said if they were.’

Alex’s head fell back against the seat as she closed her eyes, then hearing voices in the background, she said, ‘Sorry. I didn’t realise you had company.’

‘Oh, it’s just Gabby with Martin and the kids. They came over for a Sunday roast and I think they might be about to leave.’

Stiffening with surprise, Alex said, ‘Oh, I see. Well, it’s good to know they’re feeling better.’
Why hadn’t they invited her to join them for lunch? Gabby had known she was on her own today, hadn’t she? It didn’t matter; she’d already decided by then to go and see Millie anyway
.

‘Oh, I think they’ll live,’ Sheila chuckled. ‘It did them good to get out of the house for a while, they’ve been all cooped up since Thursday.’

‘Please send them my love,’ Alex said through a wavering smile, ‘and tell them the play went really well.’

‘Oh goodness, I’d forgotten all about that. Did it really? How marvellous. I’m sorry we couldn’t make it, dear, but I’m sure we’ll get up there before it closes.’

‘That’ll be lovely,’ Alex assured her. ‘I’d better let you go now so you can see them off.’

After ending the call she turned the key in the ignition and started to drive out of the car park, knowing that if she didn’t get herself moving right away she’d end up sitting there wallowing in some hideous wave of self-pity that had no more business in her head than it did in her heart. Her mother was someone she didn’t even know, and might not even want to know if she did, so perhaps she should think about that instead of romanticising her on to some sort of pedestal. And as for Gabby and Sheila, she needed to remember that they had lives too, and she couldn’t expect to be a number one priority for them, especially when Gabby had a husband and kids.

She’d call Jason when she got home to tell him what had happened. Or no, she’d just ask how it was going at his mother’s and suggest that they do something special for his kids once the show had closed. Maybe they could take them to Center Parcs for a weekend, or even on a ferry over to France.

Chapter Seven

ON TUESDAY MORNING
Alex had precious little time to spare before going to meet Lizzie for their dreaded visit to the Princes. Even so, she wasn’t going to allow another day to pass by without making some sort of contact with the parents of Ottilie Wade. She’d left messages at the school again yesterday, and called at the house when passing to no avail, so if she didn’t get anywhere again today she’d be turning up at Mr Wade’s office tomorrow, or the classroom, she didn’t mind which.

However, just as she was finishing up her report on the hellish Monday that had included her trying to tear one of her charges away from a drug-addicted mother, and another child letting the tyres down on her car while she was inside talking to his stepfather, her mobile rang and seeing it was from Kesterly Rise Primary she quickly clicked on.

‘Ms Lake, it’s Brian Wade,’ a polite, cheerful voice informed her. ‘I’m sorry I haven’t managed to get hold of you before now, but how can I help?’

Quickly hitting the save button on her computer, Alex cut straight to the chase. ‘We’ve had a call expressing some concern about your daughter, Ottilie ...’

‘Oh dear, not again,’ he interrupted with a sigh. ‘I can assure you my daughter’s fine, and I must apologise for the trouble this is putting you to. The person who’s making these calls ... I take it I’m right in thinking it’s a woman who didn’t give her name?’

‘Yes, but ...’

‘She never does. Well, you’ll know that if you’ve checked your records, and I’m sure you have. It’s a dreadful
nuisance, for everyone, but I’m afraid I don’t know how to make her stop. She’s made accusations against me before, you see, when my family and I were in Northumbria ...’

‘Yes, I read that, but I can’t seem to find any record of her name. Do you know what it is?’

There was a pause before he said, ‘McCarthy, I think. Yes, Jill McCarthy. I don’t know her personally, I have no recollection of ever even meeting her, so I’ve no idea why she decided to make me the target of her ... I suppose we should call them delusions. All I can tell you is that losing our son was the worst experience my wife and I have ever been through, and these ...
calls
were upsetting in the extreme. My wife has never been the same since Jonathan was taken, and if this crazy woman is going to start bringing it all up again I’m afraid I shall have to take some very serious steps to make her stop.’

Wondering what the steps might be, Alex said, ‘I appreciate your concerns, Mr Wade, I really do, but I’m sure you know that I’m required to perform an assessment on Ottilie ...’

‘But I’ve already assured you my daughter is fine ...’

‘In which case you’ll have no objection to me coming to see her.’

Sounding slightly strained now, he said, ‘I’ve just tried to explain about my wife’s fragility ...’

‘You have my sympathy, believe me, but I still need to see Ottilie. If it’s going to be difficult for her mother perhaps you’d like to be there when I visit. May I suggest after school tomorrow afternoon, at four thirty?’

With a tremulous, almost irritable sigh he said, ‘Ms Lake, I don’t think you’re quite understanding the damage this might cause to my wife.’

‘With respect, Mr Wade, you know I have a legal obligation to see your daughter regardless of the harm it might cause your wife ...’

‘Can I remind you that your colleague, to whom I spoke on the previous two occasions, saw no reason to doubt my word, so I’m at a loss as to why you’re being so persistent. This surely isn’t what social services are about, coming into families and causing more problems when there is absolutely no need to.’

Keeping her tone reasonable and polite, Alex said, ‘Mr Wade, your resistance to my visit is making it more necessary than ever that I make one. So, I’ll be there at four thirty tomorrow. Please make sure Ottilie is too, or it could result in us having to involve the police.’

As she rang off she blew out a heavy sigh, releasing some of the built-up tension. She might have gone a bit far in mentioning the police, given that he was a deputy headmaster; however, there was no harm in reminding him that he was as obliged as anyone else to comply with the rules, especially where child protection was concerned. She was going to be interested now to see if he was at the house when she turned up tomorrow, or if he tried to cancel or postpone. He might even, she thought, as she ran down to her car, try contacting her superiors to get them to make her back off.

Good luck with that
, she was thinking as she headed off to Temple Fields. No one at her office, no matter where they were on the ladder, took kindly to interference when there were question marks over a child. And even if he did manage to get someone on his side, she’d already made up her mind that she wasn’t going to let this one go.

We’ll find out then, Mr Wade
, she was thinking to herself, as she clicked on to her Bluetooth to take a call,
which of us has the most power where your daughter is concerned. If she’s fine, as you say, I hope it’s you. If she isn’t, you’re going to find out very soon now that it’s me
.

Twenty minutes later Alex was driving into the layby opposite Tesco, about half a mile from Temple Fields, where Lizzie was already waiting in her trusty old Ford estate. She was a strikingly sumptuous West Indian woman with sparkling brown eyes and an enormous chest that contained an enormous heart. Her experience of the more troubled estates of their region was far greater than most, since she and her family lived on the more desirable west side of Temple Fields in the midst of the largely black community. The Asian families had cornered the northern side, while the whites and smatterings of various other ethnics had a stranglehold on the south-easterly
sprawl of tower blocks, run-down terraces and battle-weary semis.

‘So how are things?’ Lizzie asked, sliding into the passenger seat of Alex’s car. ‘I should warn you, I’ve had a crap morning so far, so if the Princes have got any ideas about messing me around they’re going to find themselves in a whole heap of trouble they won’t have bargained for.’

Alex’s eyebrows arched. ‘Let them be warned,’ she smiled.

‘Indeed. Did you hear yet whether that waste of space Shane is in custody?’

‘Yes, and I’m afraid he isn’t, which should spice things up a little.’ Alex was easing the car back into the traffic, and though she was making light of a possible encounter with Shane Prince, the prospect of having to deal with him as well as the mother and sister had given her a very poor night’s sleep. ‘I’ve just spoken to the police and they assure me there’s a patrol car in the area, so if there’s any trouble we just ring 999.’

Lizzie gave one of her famous scoffs. ‘Yeah, and they’s going to come running as fast as they fat little legs can carry ’em,’ she retorted. ‘But we’re going to do just fine without them, don’t you go worrying ’bout that.’

Taking heart from Lizzie’s confidence, Alex drove on along the dual carriageway and minutes later they were entering the estate. As they reached the Crowes’ sad-looking semi on Barton Street she pulled over and reached into the back for her bag. ‘I’ll just be a second,’ she said, ‘something I have to drop off,’ and going to ring on the bell which she doubted could be heard above the throb of loud music and shouts of male voices inside, she eyed the letter box, tempted to push her package through and run.

‘Who is it?’ Laura Crowe’s tobacco-coarsened voice yelled from behind the door.

‘Alex Lake from social services. I have something for Danny.’

The door opened as far as the chain would allow. ‘What is it?’ Laura demanded suspiciously.

‘A photograph his foster carers gave him. He left it behind.’ She wasn’t about to inform Laura that she’d
assumed Danny had stolen it, since it wouldn’t do much to improve their friendship.

As Laura’s hand snaked out through the gap Alex handed the package over. ‘Is Daniel at school?’ she asked, knowing it was a discipline Laura hadn’t bothered to master.

‘Mind your own fucking business and piss off,’ Laura snarled and the door slammed shut.

‘Sweet,’ Alex murmured and turned back to the car. She’d better call Bradshaw Junior later to find out.

The drive through the next few streets was as dispiriting as ever: seeing so many homes barricaded up to protect the terrified, law-abiding residents from their fearsome neighbours was always depressing. How did any of them ever manage to keep hope alive, she often wondered, when they’d been forgotten in just about every way? The tower blocks, deeper into the estate, were as dismally run-down as the low-rise flats, and since she’d visited them many times Alex had no problem imagining the ammonia stench of urine and faeces in the lifts and stairwells.

‘So, here we are,’ Lizzie announced with a marked lack of enthusiasm as they turned into Green Avenue to find no trace of green in the scrubby front gardens nor in the wasteland of a playing field at the far end – otherwise known as the junkie pit. ‘Armageddon on a day off.’

Alex smiled past the unease of now being in a cul de sac. Though the only activity seemed to be rubbish skittering along the pavements in the wind, she could hear someone hammering and drilling behind one of the boarded-up facades, and music blaring out of somewhere. A few intrepid neighbours had dared to hang flower baskets next to their front doors, or balance the odd pot of geraniums on precarious-looking windowsills. Mostly, though, the street was a misfortune of makeshift repairs and shabby paintwork, with an odd assortment of wrecked and pristine cars parked along the kerbs and satellite dishes on every rooftop.

‘What, no welcoming committee?’ Lizzie commented as Alex came to a stop in front of the Princes’ semi, where patches of pebble-dash still clung to the walls in a last desperate bid to show its former glory, and an upstairs
window was made of an opaque plastic sheet. ‘Oh, that’s right, no one’s expecting us – and now, with any luck, no sorry ass will be at home so we can turn our pretty little selves around and get the hell out of here.’

Though she’d have liked nothing better, Alex said, ‘Try to think of Polly Prince and what a good thing it is that she has us to look out for her.’

Lizzie’s eyes nearly burst from her head. ‘Yeah, like that little slapper’s going to be real grateful for us coming knocking on her door. She’s going to say, oh hi Alex, hi Lizzie, how lovely to see you. I been wondering when you’d show up to rescue me. Shall I go get my stuff?’

Choking back a laugh, Alex pushed open the car door and after taking her bag from behind the driver’s seat she waited for Lizzie to join her on the pavement.

‘Reckon it might make more sense for me to stay here,’ Lizzie said sagely, ‘you know, in case we need to make a quick getaway.’

‘Nice try,’ Alex responded, registering the heady scent of marijuana floating by on the breeze.

With an exasperated sigh Lizzie prised herself from the passenger seat and after reminding Alex how much she owed her for this, she led the way up to the Princes’ front door.

Leaning past her, Alex gave three sharp raps with the knocker and quickly scooted behind her again.

‘Yeah, you’re real funny,’ Lizzie told her drily. ‘There ain’t no one home, so come on, let’s go.’

‘Give them a chance,’ Alex laughed. ‘I can hear music.’

‘That’ll be the angels hovering about with them harps the way they do when they’ve got a couple of newcomers on their way.’