No Child of Mine (9 page)

Now here she was, all tattoos, piercings and peroxide hair, striding down the path to meet her boy, looking ready to thump anyone who got in her way.

‘Come on you little bugger,’ she growled, tugging Daniel out of the passenger seat. ‘Bet you’ve missed me, haven’t you?’

Daniel nodded, and gave himself stiffly to the rough shake and hug that conveyed her pleasure to see him.

‘Where’s your stuff?’ she demanded.

‘Here,’ Alex answered, going to take the bag out of the boot.

Laura pulled a face as she saw it. ‘What the bloody hell’s that when it’s at home?’ she snapped. Then, rolling her eyes, ‘Oh, for fuck’s sake, you haven’t been out robbing again, have you, Daniel? I’ve told you about that.’

‘He was given it,’ Alex said quietly.

Laura scowled at her. ‘Yeah, right,’ she retorted, snatching it from her. ‘Well, we won’t be needing the likes of you no more, thanks very much, so you can be on your way. Come on, Dan,’ and grabbing his arm she began marching him off down the path. At the front door she turned back, saying, ‘Cops got the wrong person, didn’t they, same as they always do. I told ’em, it’s that fucking Prince family they ought to be going after and leave the rest of us the fuck alone.’

As the door slammed behind her Alex could only wonder what was going through Daniel’s mind now, whether he was glad to be home, if he’d tell his mother where he’d been, or who he’d been with. He’d no doubt be furious when he found out he no longer had the silver photograph frame, but she couldn’t have allowed him to walk away from the house with something that wasn’t his. Especially not after the Fenns had been so kind to him.

Getting back into her car, she quickly pushed the button to lock all the doors, and started the engine. Laura’s little rant against the Prince family had been all the reminder she’d needed of how keen she was to get off the estate before any of them spotted her.

Twenty minutes later, after pulling into a car park behind the town hall to jot down some preliminary notes about Daniel’s pickup and return to his mother, she decided to make a quick check of her voicemails.

‘Hi, Tommy here, thought I’d better let you know that the Princes’ GP has been the victim of a mugging. Obvious suspects being questioned, we both know who they are, so don’t hang around the TFE when you drop your boy off, OK?’

Thankful she hadn’t, Alex clicked to the next message
and her heart sank with shame as Maggie Fenn said, ‘I’m hoping you might pick this up before you go too far. We gave Daniel a photograph he liked of us and he seems to have left it behind. Of course, it might have been deliberate, but if it wasn’t, perhaps you’ll have time to come back and collect it.’

Erica Wade was at the kitchen window watching Ottilie wandering about in the back garden, her skinny legs bare beneath the dress she’d put on inside out and her play high heels jammed on to the wrong feet. She clip-clopped up and down the path, carrying her bear, and stopping every now and again to inspect a leaf, or a caterpillar or whatever else she found. She didn’t need any friends, she was used to entertaining herself.

Erica’s eyes strayed to the luxury shed that Brian called a studio. The door was secured by no less than three coded padlocks; the large square window with its darkly tinted glass didn’t open at all. Unlike Ottilie, Erica had never been inside the shed, but she knew it contained leather sofas, a fur rug, a computer and all kinds of camera equipment, because she’d seen everything being delivered. Brian belonged to a club, exclusive, specialised and nationwide. For all she knew it might even be global. The members exchanged photographs and videos for the purpose of education or entertainment. The subjects were always children, boys and girls, all colours, all ages.

Sweat was starting to form on her skin, bubbling up like blisters, trickling, tickling like bugs. Her breath was short, her eyes were clouding and blank. As she swayed she caught the edge of the sink to steady herself. It wouldn’t be long now. Whoever she was waiting for would come and then everything would be all right.

Who was she waiting for?

She couldn’t remember.

Ottilie came in clutching a fistful of flowers. She laid them on the table, then kicked off her shoes and pulled a chair to the sink to fill a cup with water. After putting the flowers in the cup she held it in both hands and looked up at her mother. There was a smudge of dirt on her cheek,
a stray leaf in her hair. Her large brown eyes were watchful and worried.

Erica turned away, so Ottilie put the cup down on the table before dragging the chair back to its place so she could clamber up and sit on it while she looked at the flowers. She stayed there for ten minutes or more, her legs dangling, her hands clasped in her lap as she gazed at the squashed mix of daisies, grass and weeds.

At last the Sainsbury’s delivery arrived.

Erica’s breath came more easily. As soon as she’d packed everything away she could take her medication and sink slowly, blissfully back into the void.

When she opened the front door she heard Ottilie padding down the hall behind her.

The delivery driver was the same woman who’d been a few times before. She looked friendly, but worn, as though life was trying to drag her down.

Erica suddenly wanted to laugh. She should try living here, being screamed at by voices in her head and scorned by a man who was sick.

The woman said hello to Ottilie, but Ottilie only looked at her.

‘Cat got your tongue?’ the lady teased, as Erica carried the bags through to the kitchen. It was what she always said when she saw Ottilie.
Cat got your tongue?

Ottilie only blinked.

‘Would you like a lollipop?’ the lady offered, drawing one from her pocket. As far as Erica was aware she’d never done that before.

Ottilie’s eyes went to it warily, then reaching out a hand she took it.

‘She’s so sweet,’ the lady commented, as Ottilie continued to stare at her.

Erica didn’t answer. She needed this woman to be gone. She must close the door now, put the shopping away and go upstairs.

Brian could see to Ottilie when he came in. He always did anyway.
Brian always saw to Ottilie. Brian always saw to Ottilie. She’s so sweet. Brian always saw to Ottilie
.

*

‘Are you OK?’ Alex murmured breathlessly.

With his eyes still closed, Jason said, ‘Mm, I’m great. How about you?’

She smiled, and wrapped herself more tightly around him, loving the feel of her naked skin against his. These moments when they lay entwined after making love were, in their way, even more precious to her than the act itself for how safe and cherished he made her feel. He’d become so central to her life over the last eighteen months that she could hardly remember now what it was like before she’d met him. Nor did she particularly want to when she was so happy. Looking back almost always made her feel sad.

The tech run had gone brilliantly earlier, everyone had been on great form so they’d sailed through it, making Jason laugh till he ached and Alex want to squeeze and kiss every one of them in pride. Being on such a high no one had felt ready to go home, so they’d all tramped off to the pub where impromptu rehearsals had inevitably broken out, along with wild ideas for publicity, costume changes and how they were going to cope with the paparazzi when they hit the West End.

Four days to go and Jason’s mate Grant had already delivered half the technical gear they were going to need for the opening night, and knowing Grant as well as she did, Alex had no worries that the rest would turn up in plenty of time. Her biggest concern was the set; however, Steve Perry, the local artist and landscaper who’d designed it, had simply told her to chill, his blokes were on it and no way were they going to let anyone down. Then Mattie had announced that every last ticket for the opening night had now been sold.

How amazing was that?

Terrifyingly amazing actually, but brilliant too. This was going to be the Mulgrove Players’ third production in as many years, and Hailey’s
Gender Swap
was definitely attracting as much if not more interest as
A Midsummer Night’s Dream
and
Blithe Spirit
. Alex just hoped her Aunt Sheila and Gabby did manage to come, especially when they’d missed the previous two shows. It would mean so
much to her, having them there, provided the performance went well, of course, but she wasn’t going to worry herself about that now. They had three more rehearsals scheduled before Saturday night so if anything did go wrong, there was still plenty of time to put it right.

‘You know, you still haven’t told me what you wanted to talk to me about,’ she reminded Jason as he raised an arm for her to rest her head on his shoulder.

‘Mm?’ he murmured sleepily.

‘You said earlier, on the phone ...’

‘Oh yeah, that’s right.’ Taking a moment to bring himself round, he rolled on to his side so he could look at her in the moonlight.

She’d all but stopped breathing. If this turned out to be what she thought it was she knew exactly what her answer would be, though obviously she understood that they wouldn’t be able to go public or buy a ring or anything until he’d got a divorce from Gina.

‘I’ve been thinking,’ he said, tucking her hair behind her ear, ‘that I should do this house up a bit for you. No, hear me out,’ he urged, as she lowered her eyes to cover the crush of disappointment. ‘I know you don’t want to spend money you don’t have when you’re going to sell it, eventually, but I could get all the materials at cost, and the labour, or mine anyway, would come for free.’

Managing to smile into his eyes and love him for the generosity of his offer, she put a hand to his face as she reminded herself that it really wouldn’t have been right for him to propose until he was legally free to do so. ‘You’re amazing, did I ever tell you that?’ she said softly.

Clearly pleased with her response, he said, ‘Whatever you do have to spend you’ll easily make back on the sale, because presenting it in better shape is sure to get you a better price. So what do you say? I reckon we could make a big difference for a couple of grand, which you and Gabby could split between you.’

He had no idea that she didn’t have a share in the house, because she’d never told him, or anyone, that her mother, Myra, had left it to Gabby. And she didn’t want to tell him now when she knew it would make her feel hurt and
humiliated all over again to see his shock, and his pity when it came. God knew she’d felt enough of that when the solicitor had told her about the will; watching his embarrassment had been almost as bad as being made to feel as though she didn’t matter, or that she was less deserving, or that she’d been an intruder all her life. Since then, she’d allowed everyone, Jason included, to go with their own presumptions that she was joint owner, and Gabby, who’d always claimed to feel terrible about it, had never contradicted them. Nor had Gabby ever charged any rent, so it made sense to Jason that all he and Alex were sharing was the bills.

‘So?’ he prompted. ‘Are you up for it?’

Turning on to her back, she said, ‘Well, I’d have to talk to my sister about it, obviously ...’

‘Sure, but I reckon she’ll go for it, don’t you? I mean, why wouldn’t she? And I was thinking, I could contact Millie’s family to see if they’d like the cottage next door tarted up a bit too. We could do that easily while we’re here. Obviously we wouldn’t give them such a great deal as we’d offer you, but it would give us some work and hopefully turn everyone a handsome profit at the end of the day. Have you heard from Millie’s relatives lately? I take it you’re still in touch with them.’

‘On and off,’ Alex replied. ‘And honestly, I’m not sure they’ll want anything done to her cottage. Whatever they make on it will probably have to go towards paying for her care, so it won’t make any difference to them how much it sells for.’

Remembering the truth of it, he said, ‘Of course, I’d forgotten about that. I suppose that’s why they don’t come to see her. Nothing in it for them.’

Though Alex slanted him a look, she had to admit she’d had the same thought herself at times. ‘People have busy lives,’ she reminded him, reaching for her robe, ‘and it’s a long way to come, all the way from York.’

‘They could easily ring to find out how she is,’ he pointed out.

‘They do, occasionally. Anyway, she doesn’t always remember who they are.’

‘Yeah, but she does sometimes. How was she when you went in earlier?’

‘Actually, she was quite alert, for her. She knew who I was straightaway and devoured half a packet of chocolate biscuits in less than ten minutes. Of course she wanted to know when Dad was coming to see her, and as usual she seemed more surprised than upset when I reminded her that he’s no longer with us.’ He’d left the house to Myra when he’d died, with a clause expressing his wish for it to be shared between Gabby and Alex when Myra went. So at least he had considered her worthy of something.

‘Anyway,’ she said, cheerfully, ‘it’s a great idea about giving this place a bit of a makeover, but please don’t mention it to Gabby when we see her at the weekend. I’ll talk to her when we’re on our own. You know how upset she gets about having to discuss anything to do with Mum and Dad. She hasn’t even been able to bring herself to sort through their clothes or papers yet.’

Yawning as he flipped back the duvet and started for the bathroom, he said, ‘Well, at least it’s all stuffed in her bedroom, so it’s out of the way, but she’ll have to get round to it at some point. Unless you do it for her.’

Alex shrugged and started to pick up the clothes they’d discarded on their way in. ‘I will if she wants me to,’ she said. She wasn’t about to admit that she’d already been through every box, bag, suitcase, pocket and purse in the hope of discovering something about, or maybe even from her real mother. She’d found nothing, apart from a letter that she’d written herself, aged fourteen, telling her real mother how unhappy she was and begging her to come and get her. Of course, she’d had nowhere to send it, and until she’d unearthed it from the bottom of an old handbag of Myra’s, she’d forgotten she’d even written it. She might have wondered if it had upset Myra to read it, had the envelope not still been sealed, with the single word
Mummy
written on the front. She supposed the fact that it had never been opened proved that Myra, contrary to what she’d often claimed, had never really seen her as a daughter.