Don't Let Me Go (31 page)

How could she save Chloe from that? What on earth could she do to make sure she didn’t turn into an angry, frightened, even vicious adolescent who wanted to make the world pay for what it had done to her?

The answer was nothing. She was as powerless to affect the future now as she was to change the past. She couldn’t make sure Chloe went to the right home, because nothing
she
wanted or advised would be taken into account any more. However, luckily, she couldn’t imagine Wendy, her old boss, allowing petty grudges to affect the well-being or safety of a child. She probably wouldn’t mind too much about throwing Charlotte to the wolves though, she’d done it before, when everyone had thought Chloe was missing and social services had come under fire for not removing her from the family home sooner. Wendy had never actually uttered the words ‘the caseholding social worker is to blame’, but still, in her usual inimitable way, she had managed to offload all her own responsibility as a manager on to the shoulders of a subordinate.

At least she hadn’t gone for Tommy, no doubt because she was astute enough to know that this would have caused a revolt, given how popular he was as a team leader.

Dear Tommy, he’d fought hard during the disciplinary hearings to help the disgraced Alex Lake to keep her job; and he’d been the first to offer her a roof if she’d managed to get bail. She felt awful for the angst and disruption she was causing him. If anyone could deal with it though, he could. He’d already sent a message, via Kim, telling her not to worry, he’d be doing his best for her and Chloe.

It was wonderful to have his support, and Kim’s, and Gabby’s, but what good was it going to do in the end?

Realising there was no point even in trying to answer that, she attempted to push it from her mind. Perhaps she should turn over to the news to find out what was being said about her, but she wasn’t sure she was any more willing to do that than she was to go to the showers.

Maggie Fenn switched off the news and turned to look at her brother. She was a large woman with gentle grey eyes, smudges of bright colour in her cheeks and a smile that seemed etched into every line on her face. At fifty-three she was twelve years older than Anthony, whose dark looks were striking, almost fierce, until he smiled. Then, like his sister’s, his entire face seemed to light up with friendliness.

Neither of them was smiling now.

‘She needs your help,’ Maggie told him bluntly.

He didn’t deny it.

‘Being on sabbatical doesn’t mean you aren’t still a lawyer,’ Maggie reminded him.

His eyebrows rose, showing a spark of irony.

‘So what are you going to do?’ Maggie pressed.

Taking an apple from the bowl he bit into it, and kept his eyes on hers as he chewed.

She watched him, knowing much more was going on in his mind than he was choosing to let on. No doubt he was remembering how he’d helped Charlotte once before, when Chloe was presumed missing and Charlotte was about to lose her job. He hadn’t known her well, but Maggie had watched with interest as a certain closeness had begun developing between them, and being so fond of them both she’d harboured some hopes for it. Then Charlotte had disappeared off to New Zealand and to Maggie’s dismay she hadn’t remained in touch.

Now they knew why.

‘Well?’ she prompted.

Taking another bite of his apple, he came to plant a kiss on her cheek. Then, without uttering a word, he took himself off to the garden.

Kim was at her desk in the Bristol offices of Crane Jessop, going through all the case law she could find on child abduction. It didn’t matter that it was Sunday morning, and she’d promised her partner, Curt, that she’d join him and his daft dog, Burt, for a walk in Ashton Court. Luckily, being a lawyer himself, Curt understood when a case had to come first, and since he wasn’t living in a cave, or ten thousand feet up a mountain, he was perfectly aware of how big the Charlotte Nicholls case was. And how much it mattered to Kim, especially since she’d failed to get Charlotte bail.

She’d felt so convinced it would happen. Even now she was still mystified as to why the judge had suddenly ruled the way he had, when at that very point he’d seemed to be leaning their way.

In truth, it hardly mattered now why he’d seemed in such a hurry to end the hearing, because it wasn’t going to change the fact that Charlotte Nicholls was banged up in Walworth Prison, no doubt going half out of her mind with worry, not least about whether Kim was the right lawyer for her.

Fortunately Jolyon was on his way here now to discuss the next bail hearing. Not that he felt she’d done anything wrong at the last one, but she was going to feel a whole lot better if she could call on his input for the next time around. The application would go in first thing tomorrow, which meant it would be heard with the Section Fifty-One on Wednesday. This was when the timetable would be set for the filing of papers, plea and case management, and ultimately the trial itself.

All of that was a long way off, sixteen weeks at least, and it would be an absolute travesty, not to mention tragedy, if Charlotte was kept in custody for the whole of that time. She wasn’t going to bolt, Kim felt certain of it, and no way would she abuse the conditions of her bail. Actually, Kim didn’t feel quite so certain about the second part of that, but as long as Charlotte didn’t know where Chloe was, there was no risk of her trying to see her.

Glancing at her BlackBerry as it bleeped with an incoming email, she clicked on to read a message from Curt.
You’ll be interested in this. It’s about your girl. Cx

Abandoning the task at hand, Kim turned to her computer, and after opening the email again she went through to the link he’d sent, glancing up as Jolyon came into the room. He was a large, imposing man with intense eyes, silvering hair and, when crossed, a bark that could be as lethal as his bite. ‘Hi, coffee’s made,’ she told him, as he went to hang up his jacket.

Moments later she was staring at the screen in amazement. ‘Oh my God,’ she murmured. ‘Did you know this?’

‘Know what?’ Jolyon asked.

‘It says here that our client is the child that disappeared after the Temple Fields Massacre back in the eighties.’

Jolyon blinked in surprise. ‘What are you reading?’ he asked, coming to look over her shoulder.

‘It’s a Scandinavian website,’ she replied, ‘or maybe it’s German, I can’t tell. Anyway, listen to this:
before being adopted at the age of four by the Reverend Douglas Lake and his wife, Myra, of Mulgrove village, Alexandra Lake was the youngest child of Gavril Albescu, the mass murderer who slaughtered his family, including his own son, Hugo, in what was to become known as the Temple Fields Massacre. The only survivors of the crazed attacks were his wife, Angela Albescu, who sustained horrific injuries on that fateful night, and three-year-old Charlotte. Apparently Charlotte was hiding in an attic cupboard of the house when her father broke in and went berserk. Among those who lost their lives were Charlotte’s grandparents, Andy and Peggy Nicholls, their daughter, Yvonne, Yvonne’s fiancé, Nigel Carrington, and Charlotte’s five-year-old brother, Hugo.
’

Looking up again, Kim said, ‘Do you remember any of this?’

Jolyon nodded. ‘Indeed I do. Albescu was Albanian, I believe, or Romanian. It turned out he was part of a human-trafficking gang, one of the first to come into this country. It was said at the time that he only married Angela to facilitate his border crossings, and that when she found out what he was doing she contacted the police. As a result he wiped out her entire family, with the exception of the little girl who was rescued from the attic the following day.’

‘What a sad story,’ Kim commented, turning back to the screen. ‘And how vile of whoever wrote this to be trying to use it against Charlotte the way they are now.’

‘Elucidate,’ Jolyon prompted.

‘Well, it’s insinuating that Charlotte might have inherited her father’s genes so it’s . . . I quote, “lucky someone contacted the police about Ottilie Wade when they did.”’

Jolyon’s expression darkened. ‘This is the trouble with the bloody Internet,’ he snarled. ‘Whoever’s done this has deliberately put it on a foreign site to avoid contempt of court.’

‘Shall I try to find out who’s behind it?’

‘Get the police to do it. They have the resources and this could be as prejudicial to their case as it could to ours. Before you do that though, send an email to Charlotte’s parents in New Zealand with a link to the piece. I think they ought to see it. Charlotte should too, so print out what’s there and send it over to the prison. We need confirmation that she is the child being referred to. Jolyon Crane,’ he said, answering his mobile.

His eyes widened in pleasant surprise. ‘How are you, my friend?’ he asked warmly. ‘It’s good to hear from you. Yes, yes, I’m fine, if you discount the bloody fraud case I’m up to my eyes in. That’s right, the sharpest judge on the bench provided the bench is in a park and he’s sitting alone.’ He gave a shout of laughter at the response to his witticism. ‘So what can I do for you on this sunny Sunday morning, I thought you’d be fishing or sailing . . .’ He started to frown as he listened to the reply, then with a roguish sort of twinkle he said, ‘Actually, she’s right here. I’ll put you on.’

Glancing up from the computer, Kim regarded him expectantly as she took the phone.

Grinning, he told her who it was and gave a chuckle as her jaw actually dropped.

‘Blimey,’ she murmured. ‘Why does he want to speak to me?’

‘I think you’ll find it’s your client he’d like to speak to,’ Jolyon replied sardonically, and leaving her to it he went to his office to turn on his own computer.

Chapter Sixteen

‘
SWEETIE, YOU HAVE
to eat,’ Maxine Kosey was saying to Chloe. ‘You’re going to be ill if you don’t.’

Chloe kept her worried brown eyes focused on the middle of the table, saying nothing, barely even moving. Boots was in her lap, trying to make her brave, but he wanted Mummy too so he wasn’t doing a very good job.

‘Mm, these chips are delicious,’ Maxine told her, spearing one with a fork and eating it up. ‘Steve’s enjoying them too, aren’t you, Steve?’

Stifling a sigh, he said, ‘They’re lovely,’ and reaching for his wine he knocked back the rest of it before going to the fridge to fetch the bottle. ‘Top-up?’ he offered his wife.

‘No, I’m fine, thanks,’ she replied, her eyes moving anxiously between him and Chloe.

‘She doesn’t want it,’ he told her.

‘But she hasn’t eaten since she got here and that’s more than twenty-four hours now. I don’t want you to starve, sweetie, so come on, have a chip for me.’

Chloe still didn’t look at her. She was trying not to cry, because the man had got cross the last time she cried and she was really scared when men got cross. Daddy used to get cross.

Were they going to give her back to Daddy?

She didn’t want to play ride the tiger again; she wanted to go home to Mummy.

‘I know what, why don’t we have some ice cream?’ Maxine suggested brightly. ‘I bet you like ice cream, don’t you?’

Chloe’s bottom lip started to tremble.

‘Oh, sweetie, you don’t have to have ice cream if you don’t want to. Just tell me what you do want.’

‘Want Mummy,’ Chloe whispered brokenly.

‘Oh dear, I know you do, but we’re going to take very good care of you, aren’t we, Steve?’

Putting his glass down, Steve walked out of the kitchen.

Maxine glanced worriedly at Chloe before getting up and going to the door. ‘What’s the matter?’ she said, as he took his jacket from a cupboard. ‘Where are you going?’ She tried to grab him, but he pushed her away. ‘Steve, it’ll be all right . . .’

‘No it won’t,’ he growled, ‘so stop kidding yourself.’

‘But the doctor said . . .’

‘I know what he said, and he would, because he’s happy to take our money.’

‘He’s not like that. He’s trying to help us.’

‘Well, I don’t want his help, thank you very much, and I don’t want to go on like this either.’

Her face turned pale. ‘What’s that supposed to mean?’

‘All this taking kids in and pretending they’re ours, that we can make a difference . . .’

‘But we can, we do. Steve, please don’t go . . .’

‘Listen,’ he said, careful to keep his voice down, ‘that child in there is seriously emotionally damaged.’

‘You don’t know that . . .’

‘After what she’s been through? Of course she is. We haven’t seen it yet, except in the way she won’t speak or eat, but there are going to be other problems, you mark my words, and it’s not what I want to be dealing with. What I want is for us to have a child of our own . . .’

‘It’s what I want too, you know it is, and we’re doing everything to make it possible.’

‘Except it isn’t working, and every time you take a child in you get attached to it, and all broken up when you have to let it go, depressed when your period comes . . . You won’t discuss adopting . . .’

‘No, it’s you who won’t discuss that.’

He stared at her hard.

‘Steve, please . . .’

‘I’m sorry,’ he said, and pulling open the front door he left.

Doing her best not to break down, Maxine forced herself to take some deep breaths before returning to the kitchen. She couldn’t leave the child on her own, but she couldn’t bear the fact that Steve had walked out on her either. She needed to ring him, to remind him that his parents were coming over later, and his sister and her kids. They’d agreed to try and make Chloe feel a part of a family, it was what she needed, the social workers had said, and theirs was a family full of love.

What was she going to do? How could she make him come back and stop minding about how awful it was that the IVF didn’t seem to be working?

Did he want to adopt? Was he changing his mind about that now? They needed to talk some more; she needed to decide whether she was ready to give up on having a child of her own. Merely to think of it was making her want to cry out in despair. She shouldn’t have accepted Chloe into their home while she was feeling like this. She wouldn’t have agreed to it if the social worker who’d contacted her hadn’t been desperate.