The babysitter, p.22
The Babysitter, page 22
DC Benson’s eyes darted to me.
‘Cupboard above the kettle, behind the peppermint,’ I said.
‘I’m here to help, what would you like me to do?’
‘There’s nothing you can do, Miranda, unless you can bring Eden back to us,’ Christopher grumbled, his voice weary.
They both sat as I got up from the chair.
‘Where are you going?’ Mum looked at me incredulously.
‘For a cigarette,’ I snapped as all eyes fell on me.
Ignoring them, I rescued the packet from the top of the cupboard and wrenched open the bifold doors.
I lit up and inhaled the smoke, instantly calmer. My mother always rattled me, and now she was here, in my kitchen. Given half the chance, she’d take over, whisk in and out, claim she’d rescued us when we were at our lowest. I flicked my ash so violently it came away altogether and I had to light my cigarette again.
The door slid open behind me and I heard the thud of her riding boots on the patio.
‘That isn’t going to help.’
I spun around, fire in my cheeks. ‘What would you have me do, Mother, walk the streets? I don’t know where to look,’ I sobbed and she patted my shoulder mechanically, as though it was as much physical contact as she could bear. Why couldn’t she be like every other mother, hold me until I felt better, wipe my tears and tell me everything was going to be all right?
‘What have they told you?’ she asked.
I relayed everything DCI Greene had told us, while Mother picked flecks of cotton off her dress, discarding them into the air.
‘Did Christopher do that to your neck?’ she asked causally, as though it was expected.
I berated myself for not putting a scarf on before I came downstairs, having forgotten about the marks.
Ignoring the question, I turned on my heel to go back inside, speaking over my shoulder. ‘There isn’t anything you can do. Go home. We’ll call you when there’s news.’
Back the kitchen, the tea had been made and DC Benson had vacated.
‘You clearly aren’t coping,’ Mother said, continuing the conversation.
‘We’re fine,’ Christopher replied, squaring his shoulders.
‘Really, so fine you’ve been manhandling your wife?’
He gasped and shot me a look, as though I’d told her.
‘Did your daughter tell you she screwed someone else on her hen night? Oh yes, Miranda, I had to do a bloody DNA test to see if Eden is mine!’
Mother gave Christopher a withering look, his words rolling off her back. ‘Is she yours?’
‘Yes,’ I interjected.
‘Well then,’ she replied quickly, her voice a little too high.
Christopher scoffed. ‘I’m supposed to just accept it, am I?’ Christopher’s voice grew louder, and I cringed.
‘Oh, stop being so ridiculous, you knew what you were marrying into.’
I gasped as though I’d been slapped. ‘What the hell is that supposed to mean?’ Hot, resentful tears pricked my eyes. Why couldn’t she be on my side, for once?
She glanced at me, fleetingly, then back at Christopher, continuing to talk about me as though I wasn’t there. ‘Our darling Alison is fanciful, like her father, always has been. She has big ideas; her head is in the clouds and she’s easily swayed. If you can’t control your wife, Christopher, that’s down to you.’
‘Get out.’ My voice was low, almost a snarl.
‘I beg your pardon?’ Mother turned to look at me, her cup raised to her lips, pinky extended.
‘You heard me, get out, you’re no longer welcome in this house.’
49
Jimmy Pearson
The closer I got to the M25, the more anxious I became; my knuckles were white on the steering wheel as Eden’s mood deteriorated and she cried for almost an hour. The wailing was like torture, and I screamed at her to stop twice. Unable to control my outburst. It only made her notch up the volume. I guessed her mouth was hurting; she was teething, and her gums were sore even before the impact with my head.
My eyes were on a rotation; road, Eden, road, Eden, making sure to keep checking behind us for any sign of a police car. Every time a traffic officer, or the cone police as I liked to call them, went past, my heart skipped in my chest. That was the intention, with their vehicles designed like police cars, everyone slowed down.
Although cooler dressed in the cheap flimsy pirate’s costume, perspiration still peppered my back. Agitation made me shift in my seat. I just wanted to get there and get rid of Eden. If she screamed any more, I’d go mad. The sound was so cutting, but I remembered Brooke telling me the noise was designed to make you act. It made me want to bang my head against the steering wheel.
Joining the M25 and seeing the signposts for Heathrow spurred me on, but then the traffic slowed to a crawl and Eden kicked her legs restlessly. I was sure her chin was discolouring. She’d be returned to her parents with a burnt hand, a cut gum and a bruised chin. Some father I’d turned out to be – or rather not to be. Couldn’t even keep her out of harm’s way for a couple of days. Maybe I wasn’t cut out to be a dad?
The crying finally stopped, and her eyes wandered around the car before she chewed at her T-shirt, the skull and crossbones crinkled, flashing a slice of pink skin from her tummy. As we came to halt, I risked a grab at the change bag, thrusting the first thing I could find into Eden’s lap. She snatched the rattle and shook it, spinning rings reflecting in her eyes. The journey seemed to be taking forever and for once the way back seemed longer than the way there.
I cricked my neck, easing it from side to side, trying to relieve the tension in my shoulders. I felt like warmed up dog shit. My stomach rumbled, I’d missed breakfast and lunch, but the thought of eating made me queasy. The dull pain from where Eden’s chin collided with my head had grown into an ear-splitting throb and all I wanted was to go to bed.
‘Look. Eden, a plane!’ I pointed out of the window at the low-flying aircraft, smiling as she followed my finger with wide eyes. If I was lucky, I’d get a seat on one of those today. I just wanted to get to the airport, where I was within reach of an escape route, putting myself thousands of miles between me and the police. Once there I had options, I had my passport and a credit card, if I couldn’t leave for Australia today it wasn’t the end of the world. I could go anywhere. But I had to return Eden first. She had to go home, where she belonged.
Another hour and we’d be there, I just had to hold on, keep it together for a bit longer. The traffic sped up and I put my foot on the accelerator, jumping as a police car overtook me on my right, blue lights flashing and the siren blasting as they passed. I automatically shrank lower in my seat. Cars slowed ahead and I could see the passenger making hand gestures to pull over. Were they motioning to me?
They were two cars ahead and I slowed down, indicating to move from the middle lane to the inside. Sirens still blaring, I swallowed hard, tongue glued to the top of my mouth. Positive I made eye contact with the male policeman in the passenger seat. He kept pointing, gesturing to pull over.
My hands shook on the steering wheel, was this it? Game over.
I indicated to move to the hard shoulder but couldn’t bring myself to pull in. I could put my foot down, speed away, although I was sure they could easily outrun me. Could I put Eden at risk like that?
As I debated, unsure what to do, the police car manoeuvred into the inside lane and onto the hard shoulder. Seconds later, an old blue Escort XR3i with spoiler followed it in. I hadn’t seen the car because it was in front of the Transit I was behind.
‘Fuck,’ I said, flicking off my indicator quickly and letting out a low whistle, swiping at the beads of sweat that had appeared on my forehead. That was close, too close. In my wing mirror, I saw them get out of the car and walk back to the driver of the Escort.
For a second, my life had flashed before my eyes, I was convinced the game was up. I drank the remaining stale water stashed in the door, the adrenaline leaving my body and taking every last ounce of energy with it.
‘Dadadadadada,’ Eden babbled, slobbering over the rings of the rattle.
‘I know, you’ll see him soon.’ I sighed.
The rest of the drive was uneventful. Traffic moved continuously, albeit slow at times, and after the panic, I zoned out, turning the radio on and concentrating on the music. Anything to take my mind off what was going to happen in the next couple of hours. I stopped to fill the tank with petrol at the nearest station once off the M25, my hat still on.
The guy behind the desk smirked and commented on my costume, which I’d forgotten I was wearing. I’d left the waistcoat and sash in the car and the bandana and eyepatch were still in the packet, so I wasn’t surprised he remarked on it. I looked strange in a white shirt with a deep V-neckline and billowing trousers, like I was auditioning for a part in Poldark.
I paid quickly and left, keeping my head down. Within twenty minutes, we were in Redhill, my blood pressure instantly shot up knowing we were so close. Brooke would likely be in the shopping centre already, counting the minutes to our quarter-past two exchange time. I’d leave at two and she’d be there fifteen minutes later to collect Eden. That was the plan. It gave me a fifteen-minute head start if nothing else.
Not wanting to risk parking in the Belfry Shopping Centre, I carried on past and pulled into Linkfield car park, a minute further down the road. I had visions of alarms in the centre going off and having to drive through a lowered barrier like something out of an action movie to get away. No, it would be far easier if I was on foot. I could jog back to the car in minutes and be on the motorway before the police had even arrived.
Once parked, I put on the rest of my costume, the bandana around my head and eyepatch, which was extremely uncomfortable. Then I drew on my beard using the black eyeliner, swishes of black to represent the hairs. It was a pretty good disguise, you couldn’t tell my exact hair colour, and for once I was grateful I didn’t have a hairy chest as the shirt was so low-cut.
Moving around to the back seat and checking the time, we had an hour to go. I gave Eden another biscuit which she munched happily, then a drink before I changed her nappy again. I rubbed some Savlon onto her palm, which still brandished a circular red mark, and gave her some Calpol. Once she was content, chewing on her dummy, I attempted to draw her beard on. It was smudged and messy within minutes, but the general idea was there. The red spotted bandana had been hard to secure, but after a few attempts I got it on over Eden’s curls.
She looked like the perfect little boy. My Eddie. Brooke’s Eden. I left her in the car to put the change bag in a bin across the other side of the car park, as well as Eden’s clothes and coat. Baby paraphernalia had worked its way into the footwells and pockets of the car I found as I cleaned it. I knew her DNA would be inside the vehicle and mine would be all over the bag, but I didn’t have time to dispose of it any other way. It was the best I could do.
Now it was just the two of us. Me with my phone, car keys and wallet and Eden with her dummy. I hoisted her onto my shoulder, wrapping my arms around her. Aware it was too cold for her in only her costume as I shivered, bracing the wind. We’d be inside the centre in less than ten minutes. It was a short walk to the Belfry.
‘Come on then, poppet, time to go and play,’ I said, holding her close to me. Warmth from her body spreading into mine. My heart chipped away with every beat of hers.
Each step felt heavy, closer to saying goodbye. Did I really want to do this? I could turn around and put her back in the car, keep running.
She’s not yours to keep.
The voice in my head whispered. It didn’t matter, it still felt like my heart was being stamped on. I loved her, but it wasn’t about me. Eden needed her parents, her real parents, and I had to do the right thing.
50
Brooke Simmons
We sat in the Marks and Spencer’s café, nursing cappuccinos. Betty and Mum had gone for a toasted sandwich and a slice of millionaire’s shortbread, but I couldn’t face it. Instead I glanced apprehensively at the customers around us, as if they knew why I was there. I hadn’t seen the couple for a while, the ones I believed were police, although now I was doubting they were police at all. Could it be paranoia had got the better of me?
‘Why do you keep checking the time?’ Mum asked, her brows furrowed as I tapped the screen on my iPhone to reveal the time again.
‘No reason. How’s your sandwich?’ I asked, changing the subject and pulling my mouth into a smile.
‘Lovely, thank you, so nice of you to treat us,’ Betty replied, hers already half eaten. She must have been sweating under her layers of clothing. I’d taken my coat off but could still feel the flush of heat around my throat. I pulled at the neck of my jumper, wishing I’d worn something else.
A text came through on my iPhone, shaking the table. Ali’s name popped up as the screen came to life. I quickly swiped to see the message.
The police think you’re involved, tell me it’s not true.
It was a jolt straight to my gut and my legs jerked under the table. The police were following me, I’d been right. It wasn’t paranoia.
Jumping up from the table, the cups rattled on their saucers.
‘What’s wrong?’ Mum frowned.
‘Umm nothing, I’ve got to go to the bathroom.’
I rushed away from the table, clutching my phone and bag as Mum and Betty talked in hushed whispers. I had to send a message to Jimmy. I couldn’t go through with it. Not now. There was too much of a risk. He’d have to take Eden somewhere else, a police station or hospital. Somewhere there was no connection to me. The plan had been stupid, and I was going to get caught. If Ali suspected my involvement, it changed everything. She wouldn’t fight my corner against the police, assure them I loved Eden, I’d never hurt her. The truth would spill out and I’d be unable to stop it.
Assaulted by the smell of bleach, I hurried inside the beige café toilets and locked myself inside a stall, aware the one beside me was occupied. Someone rustling with their clothes as though they were doing a complete outfit change. I pulled the phone I used for Jimmy out of my bag. Fumbling with the handset, it slipped from my fingers and clattered to the floor sliding under the partition.
‘Whoops, here you go, love.’ A hand appeared underneath from next door; phone clutched in wrinkled fingers.
‘Thanks, sorry, clumsy today,’ I muttered, taking it back.
I punched out a message to Jimmy, frustrated at the old phone where typing took so long, hitting each key multiple times to get the letter I needed.
It’s off, can’t do it here, being followed.
I waited a minute, listening to next door flush and leave their stall as another person entered the bathroom. It wasn’t long before I got a reply.
Too late, I’m already here.
Cold unease swept through me and I shivered from the perspiration sitting upon my skin. He was here, in the centre already. It wasn’t a surprise, there was less than an hour until the drop-off.
I lingered, not knowing how to respond.
‘Is someone in there?’ I heard a voice, realising there was a queue and I’d been in the cubicle for a while.
‘I’ll be out in a sec,’ I stammered, flushing the toilet and slipping the phone into my back pocket.
The old battleaxe tutted as I unlocked the door, brushing past me to get inside. God, people were so rude.
I washed my hands, rinsing my wrists under the scalding water, trying to relieve the chill in my bones. My reflection was ghostly, so pale I was nearly transparent. As I dried my hands, my pocket vibrated. Another message.
I’m leaving her as arranged. Come, or not. I don’t give a fuck
Jimmy’s words gave me jitters, strangling my thoughts. What choice did I have? I couldn’t leave Eden to be found by someone else. Especially not the same time as I was in the shopping centre, it looked even more suspicious than what I’d originally planned. He was angry, and he had every right to be, no doubt he wanted to be as far away from me, and Eden, as possible.
The bathroom door opened again and more ladies filed in, so I took my leave and returned to the table to find Mum and Betty with empty plates in front of them.
‘You’re as white as a sheet, Brooke,’ Mum said.
‘I’m fine, I just came over a little light-headed that’s all,’ I grumbled.
‘Because you never eat anything,’ Mum berated, rolling her eyes and fingering the plait laying limply across her shoulder.
I gazed into the distance, scanning the crowd once more for the police I now knew were following me.
Should I respond to Ali? She would have seen I’d read her text, but I didn’t want to get into a dialogue with her now. Not with everything else going on.
‘Shall we go home?’ I suggested. Hoping Mum would give me an out, give me a reason not to stay and follow through. My knees knocked together under the table, cup trembling slightly as I raised it to my lips to sip the lukewarm cappuccino.
Her eyes darkened and Betty grimaced, it was obvious the shopping trip was not going to be cut short.
‘Finish your drink and we’ll go for a wander. I’ve got to get a birthday card.’
That was that, the plan was back on. In forty minutes, Jimmy would be leaving Eden at Mini Mischief alone and making his escape. My stomach churned, the smell of coffee filling my nostrils and I pushed it aside.
‘I’m ready.’ I pushed my chair back and stood, taking Betty’s shopping bag from the floor and putting my handbag over my shoulder. Mum took the receipt and handed it to me. I scrunched the paper up inside my pocket, using it like a stress ball as we left the café.
The Belfry centre was busy, people milling about, chatting and standing in awkward places, blocking shop doorways. I saw a few more people in costume but no one took much notice. The shop windows were decorated with pumpkins, spooky spiderwebs and witches’ hats, as if any of us could forget how commercial Halloween had become.
