The Lost Child (26 page)

Fern wheeled round and treated Elaine to a look of utter contempt, ‘And who the fuck are you to tell me what I should be thinking? It’s down to you that we’re all in this mess in the first place. I fucking hated you when you were a kid, and I hate you even more now. You should have stayed dead, lady. You always were a spoiled little brat, looks like nothing’s changed,’ she spat.

The pronouncement stunned Elaine into silence, but galvanised Dan who had already moved in front of Brodie.

‘Get the hell out of my house!’ he shouted.

Fern looked at him as if he were an annoying fly. ‘I’m not going anywhere without my daughter,’ she said, taunting them with her cocksure confidence.

Dan took a breath and calmly said through gritted teeth. ‘Leave. Now. Or I will pick you up and throw you out.’

The controlled calm seemed to have more effect on Fern than the flash of temper and she took a step back. ‘I know my rights,’ she said, her arrogant composure appearing shoddy and ludicrous in the face of Dan’s livid stare.

‘I’m sure you do lady, but before rights come responsibilities and it’s a shame you didn’t take more notice of those. Now get the fuck out of my house, NOW.’ He delivered his message with a coldness that chilled everyone in the room.

Fern faltered and took another step back. ‘I’ll go to court, I’ll have you,’ she said.

Dan moved towards her, ‘Well off you go and do that, in the meantime Brodie stays here. Got it?’

Fern treated them all to one final scathing look, turned on her heel and slammed out of the house.

Elaine watched with mounting dismay as Fern paused to talk to the reporters outside. Pointing at the house with one hand, the other resting on her hip, she told the eager newsmen her tale of woe.

When Elaine turned to Dan she saw he was still shaking with temper, she looked at Brodie who shrugged and said, ‘Welcome to my world.’

‘I’ve got to get out of here,’ Dan said, ‘I need some bloody space.’

Elaine followed him into the hall and watched as he wrenched his jacket from its peg and rammed himself into it.

‘Are you OK?’ she asked, realising instantly that it was a really stupid question.

‘I’ll be fine, just need to go and work this temper off. I’m going to the yard,’ he grabbed his keys from the hall table and stalked towards the back door.

Elaine knew from bitter experience that when someone was in that kind of mood the best thing to do was to leave them well alone. She also knew that generally people told you everything you needed to know by the actions that they took.

Brodie was close behind her, looking frightened and upset. ‘Is he OK?’ she asked, her voice tremulous.

‘He will be,’ Elaine said, her heart sinking. ‘Brodie, I think it’s time we left. Dan has been wonderful but we can’t keep bringing this kind of thing into his life, it’s not fair.’

‘But we can’t leave without talking to him,’ Brodie said, her words agreeing but her tone worried.

‘We won’t, I’ll write him a note. If we stay and talk to him he’ll talk me out of it because he’s a good and caring man. I just don’t feel we can keep on imposing on him like this.’

Brodie nodded as if she could see the sense in Elaine’s argument, ‘I know, but I thought you liked him and he liked you.’

‘I do, I like him very much, probably too much. That’s why I want to spare him any more of this. I don’t want Fern coming back and shouting the odds. We’re not his problem Brodie,’ Elaine said, appealing to the girl’s sense of justice.

Brodie sighed, her shoulders slumping with resignation, ‘I really like it here, I like him too. Where will we go?’

‘I don’t know, a hotel probably at least until I work something out. Go and get your stuff together while I sort out somewhere to stay and write a note for Dan, and hurry. I want to be gone by the time he gets back.’

‘Good job I didn’t unpack,’ Brodie grumbled. Her disappointment was tangible, but she went upstairs to gather her things nonetheless.

Through the window she could still see Fern, leaning against the front wall and smoking a cigarette. On a whim she tapped on the window and gestured to the woman to come back up to the house. Fern raised her eyebrows, turned, said something to the reporter she had been talking to then started to amble up the drive towards the front door. As Elaine opened it, Fern ground out her cigarette on the step. ‘Where’s the guard dog?’ she said as she stepped back into the hall.

‘Gone to cool off.’ Elaine said. ‘Come through to the kitchen.’

Fern followed her down the hallway and coolly took in her surroundings. ‘Nice gaff, you fell on your feet didn’t ya? Anyway, what d’you want? Changed your mind about Brodie already?’

Elaine shook her head. ‘No, not at all. But I wanted to talk to you. It seems wrong that we should get off to such a bad start after everything that’s happened. After all it’s not Brodie’s fault, and to be honest it’s not mine. I was three years old, Fern.’

Fern gave her a scathing look ‘You trying to fucking say it was mine? You think it’s my fault that kid was an evil little shit-bag and that some woman stole you? You might have been three, but I was only fourteen. Fuck you Mandy, you ruined my life then and you’re trying to do it again now!’

‘I didn’t sell you out to the papers though.’ Elaine said distractedly, fine lights were starting to prickle in the corner of her eye. It meant a headache was brewing.

Fern bristled. ‘Huh! You don’t think that some of us should get something out of this then? Doesn’t seem to bother you that your little boyfriend is milking it for all he’s worth though, does it? Just as long as us scumbags don’t profit, is that it?’

Elaine didn’t have a clue what she was talking about, the lights had begun to oscillate and her head was getting fuzzy. ‘Sorry? I don’t know what you mean.’

‘Old Alex Hoity-Toity, we can’t get away from how marvellous he’s been about you being found. I suppose you don’t mind him benefitting from the good news do you? Quite the little vote puller aren’t you? Does the guard dog know about your “special” friendship, or is he happy to share? I thought I was supposed to be the slutty one in the family.’

By this point, Elaine was clutching her forehead, unable to see. Fern’s words had become a dull hum.

‘Leave her alone and just go.’ Brodie said from the doorway.

Fern glowered at her daughter. ‘Didn’t anyone tell you you shouldn’t listen at keyholes kid?’

‘No need with you talking, you’re like a fog horn.’ Brodie parried. She walked over to Elaine and pressed a couple of her painkillers into her hand, then she fetched some water. ‘Drink that and sit down.’ she said, pulling out a chair for Elaine.

‘What’s up with her?’ Fern asked, wrong footed by Brodie’s TLC of Elaine.

‘You. That’s what’s up with her. That perfume alone is enough to give someone a migraine.’

‘Oi! Watch your lip and show some respect!’

Brodie snorted. ‘That was a joke, right?’

‘Ladies, please?’ Elaine muttered. ‘This isn’t helping anyone.’

Brodie bristled at the castigation. ‘Well, she started it, going on about stuff and being horrible.’ She turned to Fern. ‘Anyway, what do you mean about Alex?’

Fern shrugged. ‘He’s all over the papers, banging on about her, how wonderful it is that she’s been found, how her disappearance has haunted his family blah blah, and how he found fucking friendship with her and all. Some people have short memories, that’s all I can say.’

Brodie frowned. She looked at Elaine, who didn’t seem to be taking any of it in. ‘What do you mean?’

Fern pulled out a cigarette and lit it. ‘When they was kids he was as cruel as fuck to her, used to treat her like a pet dog. He was always making her cry, not that she needed much help with that, she was a whiny little shit.’

‘What I want to know,’ Brodie said, trying to absorb this new information, ‘is where you were the day she went missing?’

Fern stiffened and looked away. ‘Minding my own business, that’s where. It weren’t nothing to do with me, she weren’t my problem.’

Brodie scrutinised her. ‘You know something don’t you? You know something and you never said a word!’

Fern stubbed her cigarette out in Dan’s Belfast sink and immediately lit another. ‘I don’t know nothing, never did. Besides it’s all ancient fucking history now! So, you coming with me or what?’

‘Am I buggery! I’m staying with her, like you should have done.’ Brodie stated angrily.

‘Well, I’m wasting my fucking time then. I’ve had enough of this shit, you and her are welcome to each other. You needn’t think you’re getting any of Mum’s money, you walk away now and you’re on your own, Brodie Miller!’

‘What frigging money?’ Brodie asked. ‘She didn’t have any frigging money.’

Fern stubbed out the second cigarette. ‘No, but she had life insurance.’

Elaine piped up from her place at the table. ‘I doubt it will pay out, she committed suicide. Time to go I think Fern.’

‘You’ve perked up, was it the mention of money?’ Fern said, about to light another cigarette.

‘No, you just have a very sobering effect. And no one gave you permission to smoke in here. Dan will be back any minute, and I don’t suppose he will be too happy to find you here, so I really do think it’s time for you to leave.’

Fern shrugged and put the cigarette back in the packet. ‘Suit yourself, no skin off my nose.’ She sauntered to the front door and let herself out.

Brodie looked from the front door to Elaine. ‘What the chuff was all that about?’

‘Your guess is as good as mine flower. Are you ready to go?’

‘Yeah, but what about your head? You can’t drive like that.’

‘I’m OK, the tablets are kicking in. Give me a minute, and we’ll get going.’

Elaine sat at the kitchen table and tried to compose a letter to Dan that would explain why they were leaving. No matter how she thought it through she just couldn’t find the right words. In the end she wrote, ‘I’m so very sorry for everything. Thank you for all you have done for us, you have no idea what it means. Please take care of yourself, Love Elaine.’ She folded the note and left it propped against the kettle, knowing that coffee would be Dan’s first port of call when he arrived home. She cleared up the mess Fern had made in the sink, and sprayed the room with air freshener. Then she went upstairs to pack her own things, pausing only to lay a hand on the pillow where Dan’s head usually lay.

Brodie stood in the lounge, watching the journalists who still lingered at the gate. ‘What are we going to do about them?’ she asked.

Elaine added her bag to Brodie’s pile, ‘We’re going to put the bags in the car and drive straight through them, but brace yourself, it’s not going to be pleasant. Ready?’

Brodie took a deep breath and nodded, and together they picked up their bags and headed for the front door.

As soon as they emerged the group at the gate surged forward shouting questions. ‘Elaine, how do you feel about discovering who you really are?’, ‘How do you feel about your mother’s suicide?’ (a question which made Brodie wince and grit her teeth as she stoically ignored the barrage of demands), ‘Tell us about the woman who abducted you Mandy, who was Jean Ellis?’. It went on and on, a cacophony of requests, which were nothing but a series of insults thinly disguised as public interest.

With grim determination Elaine got into the car and shut them out. Fastening her seat belt and checking that Brodie wore hers, she started the engine, engaged first gear and slowly drove forward, forcing the prying people out of the way as they shouted and snapped pictures of the fleeing pair. Some chased them to the end of the road.

‘What do they want from us?’ Brodie asked, perplexed and amazed at the determination of their pursuers.

‘Just a story, nothing more, just something juicy to entertain the public while they drink their tea and eat their cereals,’ Elaine said. She felt a rising bitterness and could taste bile. Whether it was from the damped headache, or a reaction to the press invasion she didn’t know. The feeling lasted until she turned onto the main road and was, at last, able to put her foot down.

*

Dan sat at his desk contemplating the pile of paperwork that he should be concentrating on. He had run to the yard, and the activity had gone some way to calming him down, but disgust at Fern Miller’s behaviour was still pulsing through his veins. Not only that, there was no sign of Bob and his secretary, Kate, had decided to give herself the day off. He didn’t blame her really, even though she had known he would be out for a few days he was pretty sure she had been inundated with inappropriate phone calls and had simply given up trying to be diplomatic. She had left him a note saying sorry and had at least organised the upcoming jobs. Which reminded him, Elaine was still minus a functioning kitchen and bathroom. Kate had left a Post-it telling him the police were finished at the house and that they were free to complete the work. Fat chance of that any time soon. He picked up the phone and rang Kate and to her obvious relief didn’t sack her, but gave her the rest of the week off. Then he rang all the clients who were waiting for work to be done and explained that there would be a slight delay, all but one was understanding, but that one hadn’t yet paid a deposit and would either have to suck it up or go elsewhere. Then he rang Bob, who sounded low and unhappy. Once Dan had extracted an apology from him he told him to come back to work, on a final warning. Apparently he was once more Bob’s ‘mate’. It was a decision Dan thought he might regret, but Bob was a good worker and the business couldn’t function effectively without him.

Having completed the office housekeeping he began to tidy his desk, thoughts of Elaine and Brodie intruding into his industry and damping his efforts. He gave up trying not to think about them when he came across the cheque that Elaine had written for the work he was doing for her. He should have banked it weeks ago, but he hadn’t. Like a prat he’d hung on to it because he liked her signature, it was precise and elegant, with curves and lines in all the right places and it brought his impression of her to the front of his mind. He shook his head at his own lunacy, but nevertheless blue-tacked it to his monitor rather than putting it in Kate’s tray for processing. Looking at her curling, cursive name made him smile and did more to release his anger than anything else had. Why was it that whenever he was away from her he could feel nothing but love and overwhelming affection? When he was in close proximity to her grief, her distress and her helplessness he felt like a useless idiot. He concluded that maybe it was because he was a useless idiot. A foolish man, who wanted to mend everything for her and the girl, but who didn’t have a clue where to start.