No Child of Mine (55 page)

She couldn’t bear the thought of Ottilie going into care; with all her heart she wanted to be able to look after her herself, but she couldn’t, and if her father was doing anything to harm her she absolutely had to be got away from him.

She only hoped that her outburst a few minutes ago hadn’t sent Wade into some sort of panic, because if anything happened to Ottilie between now and tomorrow she would never
ever
be able to forgive herself.

Brian Wade was sitting on a chair next to Ottilie’s bed holding a copy of
Paddington Helps Out
in one hand, and Boots in the other. Ottilie was beneath the duvet, wide-eyed with incomprehension as she watched her bear and fought the urge to reach out and rescue him.

‘So now, you understand, don’t you,’ her father was saying, ‘that there’s nothing to be afraid of. You only have to do as you’re told and everything will be all right.’

Ottilie’s eyes darted to his face and back to Boots.

‘Do you understand?’ her father insisted.

Ottilie quickly nodded.

‘Do I have your promise that you’ll behave as I tell you?’

Again she was quick to nod.

‘Boots is listening, and he’ll be with us, so if you break your promise he’ll know and then he won’t want to be with you any more. You don’t want that to happen, do you?’

Ottilie shook her head and started to put out her hand.

‘Ah, ah, he’s not ready to come back yet,’ he declared, moving Boots out of reach. ‘He wants to listen to the story here on my lap.’

Obediently, Ottilie pulled her hand back.

Wade’s head tilted to one side as a thought seemed to occur to him. ‘You know, I do believe Tiger wants to listen too,’ he said, ‘so I think we should let him, don’t you?’

Ottilie’s lower lip started to tremble.

‘Oh now, he’s going to think you don’t like him if you look like that, and we can’t allow that, can we?’

Ottilie tried to swallow.

‘OK,’ her father said a few minutes later, sitting comfortably with Boots propped against Tiger. ‘We’re ready, so I hope you are too.’

By the time the story ended and he left Ottilie’s room she was fast asleep, her bear snuggled in next to her and the book back on its shelf. His cheeks were flushed, and his hand trembled slightly as he closed the door.

As he passed Erica’s room he paused and listened. There were no sounds coming from within. He hadn’t expected any, given the number of pills he’d watched her swallowing earlier. She took no care of what they were, never checked a label or even measured a dose.

It would be the easiest thing in the world to send her off into a sleep from which she would never awaken. No blame would be attached to him; the online orders were all in her name, placed from her computer and delivered to this address. She had her own bank account that he transferred small amounts of money to each month, enough to cover the cost of groceries that were also purchased from her computer, and the few extras she might need, such as pills. Ottilie’s clothes and several of her toys were ordered and paid for the same way. Of course he bought some of them himself, as any father would who wanted to treat his little girl.

Going on to his own room he sat down on the bed and put his head in his hands. Alex Lake’s words were beating a vicious tattoo in his brain. ‘What are you trying to hide, Mr Wade? What are you trying to hide?’

Everything, was the answer. Absolutely everything, but his secrets were like prisms: each time he managed to cover an image, another would appear, then another, then another. At the heart of them all were the faces of children with names long forgotten, if they’d ever been known – except there were those he remembered well, such as his son, Jonathan, and now his daughter, Ottilie.

Erica was in the shed. It was morning – the air outside was chill and damp and pouring in through the smashed window like a watery soup. It was clinging to her hair like
tiny crystals, dampening her skin and settling in filmy layers over the computer and photographic equipment so carefully polished and stored.

Boots
.

Of course it was the password. So simple, so obvious. Why hadn’t she thought of it before?

She was delving deeply into the yellow eye’s brain now, plucking out pictures, stories, emails, whole websites, like digging cockles from shells. As a child she used to find cockles in rock pools; she’d kept one once and called him Harry. He wasn’t much of a friend, but she’d cried anyway when her stepfather had crushed him.

She used to cry a lot, but then she’d learned not to.

Ottilie was learning that it did no good.

Ottilie was here, frozen in images, moving in videos, packed into files, folders, albums, downloads, uploads ... She even had a fan page.

Erica hummed as she copied it and sent it on its way to her own computer.

A fan page!

Ottilie had fans.

Ottilie probably had no idea what a fan was, much less that she had any.

Alex Lake could be termed a fan, couldn’t she, though not in the same sense as those who belonged to Brian’s club.

Where was Brian now?

She’d lost track of the time, maybe she shouldn’t be here any more. If he found her ... What would he do?

She hiccuped loudly, a sharp, staccato sound that punctured the air like pellets from the gun her stepfather used to own. He’d shot her once, her mother too.

She hated her mother.

It didn’t matter what Brian might do; it was too late now anyway.

Alex clicked off her phone and heaved a troubled sigh as she looked at her mother. ‘Well, at least we know he took her,’ she declared, ‘but apparently the paediatrician’s been called out on an emergency, so she’s going to ring me tomorrow.’

Anna was looking as worried as Alex, but relieved too that at least Ottilie had been taken to her appointment. ‘Did the nurse give you any indication of how it went?’ she asked.

Alex shook her head. ‘Not really, just that Ottilie was very good and didn’t cry, and that her father was most respectful and concerned about what was happening.’ With a dubious roll of her eyes she opened the fridge to take out some wine. Her mother always enjoyed a glass around six, and it seemed she was falling into the habit too.

This evening was to be their last together before Anna flew home on Saturday. Because the flight was leaving so early it made sense for her to spend the night before at a hotel close to the airport, so it was her intention to start out from Mulgrove around two tomorrow afternoon. Alex was dreading it, they both were, but there was no way Anna could stay any longer. The invitations had already gone out for Bob’s sixtieth birthday party, and over eighty people had replied to say they were coming. Besides, Alex had to return to full-time work on Monday.

They’d spent most of the day at the retail centre on the edge of town, browsing furniture stores and kitchen shops while trying not to worry themselves sick about Ottilie. It was over a salad at Bella Pasta that they’d decided it would be best for Anna to leave without saying goodbye to her. They didn’t want to make a fuss of it, in case it upset her and left her with a fear that Alex might do the same. Simply disappearing didn’t feel like much of a good alternative, but as they’d agreed, it was the least traumatic way of letting go.

Anna hadn’t voiced the suspicion that she might not see Ottilie again, but it had been there between them, large and real and as inescapable as the dread of where Ottilie might end up. If she was removed from the family home then it might not be possible for Anna to visit her the next time she came to England. It would depend on her carers and whether or not they considered it to be in Ottilie’s best interests.

‘But of course, as her social worker, I’ll have a say in it
too,’ Alex had assured her mother, ‘so don’t let’s look on the black side yet.’

Anna had forced a smile, in much the same way as she was forcing one now. ‘It’s a funny thing about children, isn’t it?’ she said. ‘They work their way into your heart and are filling it up before you’ve even noticed.’

‘It’s lovely that you care about her,’ Alex replied. ‘I’m not sure anyone else has in her short little life, at least not in a way that’s good for her.’

‘Apart from you, of course.’

Alex nodded. ‘Apart from me.’ She couldn’t put into words how deeply she cared, nor would she try. It was hard enough to think of the times that lay ahead when Ottilie might be wondering where she was and not understanding why she didn’t come, without struggling to express it.

After filling two glasses with wine and tipping a bag of nuts into a bowl, she sat down at the table and watched her mother opening up the computer. They were about to embark on their last call to Bob together; after tonight they would speak to one another through Skype, feeling the thousands of miles between them while technology brought them together. The time difference meant that everything would have to be prearranged – no more spontaneity or exchanges of idle thoughts, only forced exuberance and promises to be in touch again soon.

After a lifetime of being without her mother, two weeks of getting to know her wasn’t anywhere near long enough. She could feel an awful, engulfing sense of loneliness coming over her, which was foolish, she knew, and even childish, but she couldn’t help it.

‘It’s still a bit early yet,’ Anna said, when Bob didn’t reply. ‘I’ll try again in a few minutes.’

As her eyes came to Alex and Alex saw her tears, she felt her own starting to burn. They laughed and hugged and reminded each other that they’d promised not to cry, but it was a promise they both knew they’d never be able to keep.

In the end Bob’s call managed to get them laughing in a way that lasted a while after they rang off. Alex could
feel how torn her mother was between a longing to return to her husband and the desire to prolong her stay – perhaps until she could take her daughter home with her.

Alex wasn’t sure that day would ever come, but on the other hand she wasn’t going to rule it out.

It was gone midnight before they finally exhausted themselves talking and went off to bed. Though Alex felt sure she’d be unable to sleep, to her amazement, when she woke up, she realised it was morning and past the time she usually rose.

She found her mother already in the kitchen, warming bread in the oven and scrambling eggs on the stove. How wonderful it was to be this spoiled; how awful it was going to feel when she came down the stairs tomorrow to find no one there.

‘Did you sleep?’ she asked, going to pour herself a coffee.

‘Better than I expected to,’ Anna replied, passing her own mug for a refill. With a sigh, she said, ‘I keep wishing you could come and stay the night at the hotel with me, but I don’t want you making that long drive back after we’ve said goodbye.’

‘I wouldn’t mind,’ Alex told her.

‘Maybe not, but I would. And besides, it would mean taking two cars to the airport today, which is a bit of a nonsense. Then I’ll have to go off to the terminal at five thirty in the morning, even more of a nonsense. So it’s best that we stay with our plan to say goodbye here.’

Alex went to put her arms around her. ‘Thank you for coming to find me,’ she whispered.

‘I’m so glad I did.’ Anna smiled tenderly. ‘You’ve grown into a wonderful young woman. I feel so proud of you, coming through all that you have and turning out as smart and capable as you are.’

Alex’s eyes twinkled. ‘That sounds like me,’ she said teasingly.

‘It is you,’ Anna told her. ‘I’ve watched you over these last two weeks and I’ve come to admire you almost as much as I love you. You understand, don’t you, that I never stopped loving you?’

Alex nodded. ‘Yes, I understand,’ she replied, her eyes starting to blur.

‘And I never will stop. From now on, I’ll always be there for you, no matter what. Whether we’re thousands of miles apart, or in the same country, nothing is ever going to come between us again.’

Thinking of Ottilie, Alex said, ‘We must try not to let it, but sometimes ...’ She stopped as Anna put a finger over her lips.

‘I know what’s in your mind,’ she said, ‘but I promise you, things have a way of working themselves out. I know it’s taken a very long time for us, but that’s not to say it’ll be the same for Ottilie.’

Wishing she could believe that, Alex turned at the sound of her mobile ringing. Both dreading and hoping it would be the paediatrician, she went to dig it out of her bag. Seeing that it was indeed the doctor, she felt her insides turning weak.

‘Hi, Alex Lake speaking,’ she said, clicking on.

‘Hi Alex, it’s Tina, Tina Gardiner.’

‘Yes, how are you?’ she asked.

‘I’m good. Rushed off my feet as usual, but I know you’re waiting for my report on Ottilie Wade. I’ll make sure it’s typed up and emailed over by the end of the day, but I thought you’d want an answer to your most pressing question right away.’

Alex could no longer breathe.

‘I’m afraid she’s not intact. The hymen’s broken and the clitoris is responsive to mild stimulation.’

Alex tried to speak, but unthinkable images were blocking the words.

‘Needless to say the father had an excuse for the hymen,’ Tina Gardiner continued. ‘Apparently she fell off a tyre swing about eighteen months ago and landed on a tent peg.’

The tyre swing. ‘Do – do you believe him?’ Alex managed to ask.

‘Let’s just say there are no scars consistent with that sort of injury, but as for proving he’s lying ... It’ll take some doing and it’ll also require Ottilie to go through more
internal exams. Anyway, I’m sorry the news isn’t good. From what I hear you’ve taken a special interest in the child, so I understand this will be a blow.’

It was more than that, it was devastating.

For the first time in her life Alex felt that she really, truly wanted to kill another human being.

‘As I said,’ Tina Gardiner continued, ‘a full report will be with you by the end of the day, or, if I’m being honest, it could be Monday or Tuesday before you get it now. Sorry about that, it’s just the way things are.’

After thanking her, Alex rang off and as the grotesque imagery of Ottilie and her father loomed at her again, she ran to the bathroom to be sick.