His Kidnapper's Shoes (25 page)

‘I remember.’ She gave him a fleeting smile. ‘You used to love playing ball. I was so excited when I got the job looking after you. I’d not long finished college. Your parents seemed lovely, and I took to you right away. It didn’t seem like work. We’d play, and I’d feed you, and we’d have such fun. I couldn’t be a nanny anymore after you were taken.’ Her voice shook. ‘I decided never to have children. Didn’t trust myself. Your mother blamed me. She was right.’

‘Did you find things tough? Afterwards?’

She nodded. ‘I got death threats, hate mail; you wouldn’t believe the poison in those letters. Nothing I didn’t deserve, though. The police arrested me, you see. I became the prime suspect, at least initially. They obviously thought I was covering up some terrible accident. They grilled me repeatedly, the same questions, until I thought I’d go mad.’

‘Jeez.’ She’d suffered more than he’d realised. He hadn’t a clue how she’d managed to cope with being a suspect in his possible murder or manslaughter. The death threats, too. ‘Must have been hell for you.’

‘Worse than hell. For anyone to think I’d be capable of hurting you…I adored you. Eventually, they grasped I hadn’t done anything awful, but it was still unbearable for me. I was the worst person in the world, or so I thought.’

Echoes of what his mother had said. ‘No. You had no reason to know what that woman had planned. I’ve never blamed you, Alison.’

‘You should. I’d been hired to take care of you, and I didn’t. I was so stupid. Your mother was always good to me. She usually left plenty of my favourite foods in the fridge. I had this craving for fish and chips, though. It wouldn’t go away, and I told myself I’d only be gone five minutes. I’d tucked you up safely in bed, or so I thought. I was as much to blame even though you don't seem to think so. I still don't understand how that woman managed to get in. I guess I left the door unlocked.’

‘The police are looking into all that. She’s not talking. Gone mute. Being held in some sort of psychiatric facility. They sectioned her after she went berserk during the police interview.’

‘Who was she?’ He realised this was a very old question for her. ‘I've always wondered. Thought about it endlessly after it happened, went through everything repeatedly in my head. Who it might be. All they said on the news was that a woman was being held for questioning.’

‘Her name's Laura Bateman. Laura Covey, as she was then. Does that name mean anything to you?’

‘No. Not a thing.’

‘She lived in a bedsit in the Stapleton Road area. Worked as a waitress in a little café near the Triangle. Don't know if either of those facts helps.’

‘I remember.’ Her voice betrayed her surprise. ‘The girl in the coffee shop. Never did get her name. Small, blonde. Always polite and friendly, but she never showed any particular interest in either of us, other than to make small talk. I can hardly believe it.’

‘You never suspected her?’

‘No. She'd serve us when we went in, chat politely, nothing more. I’ve always tortured myself, you see. I thought some vile pervert had taken you. To find out it was someone like her…I can only thank God. Was she good to you, Daniel?’

The second time he’d faced that question in recent weeks, and he still wasn’t sure how to reply. The safe option seemed the kindest one, as it had before.

‘Yes. She was good to me.’

‘I wonder why she did it.’ She paused. ‘I can only think perhaps she’d lost her own child.’

‘That doesn't excuse her taking someone else’s.’

‘No; but it does make it understandable. Think, Daniel. Think how devastated your parents were. To lose a child – well, even though you weren’t my own, I was shattered. I've always hated myself for what happened that night. I’ve never married, never had children, because of it. Your mother – I wasn’t in touch with her afterwards, but she must have gone through hell.’

He thought of the jagged lines scored across his mother’s wrists. Sarah Cordwell had gone through hell all right.

‘Emotions like that - they can overwhelm someone. I’m not making excuses for what this Laura woman did. I’m saying, if she ever chooses to talk, she may reveal a tragic story behind what happened.’

‘Perhaps.’

‘Do you think…?’ She took a deep breath. ‘Now you’re back…that your parents…that they might be able to forgive me some day? I realise I’ve no right to expect such a thing. You, though – you don't hate me for what I did. I can’t tell you how much it means to me, you coming here. And if your mother, if one day…’

Daniel looked at her. The events of twenty-two years ago had ravaged her as much as everyone else. She’d carried the burden of a moment of thoughtlessness all her life, hating herself, denying herself a family because of her guilt. His mother bore the signs of her damaged psyche on her wrists. The scars for his father and grandparents were hidden better, not so obvious, but they still existed. Katie - well, he knew the damage this had inflicted on her.

Perhaps, to some extent, they all needed to find a way to move on. He remembered that his father, although he had suffered as much as anyone through Laura Covey's actions, didn't seem to hold a grudge against her. Nor against Alison Souter, who, in a moment of thoughtlessness, had set the scene for those actions. His mother – well, she'd made it plain what she thought about her former nanny. Perhaps though, in time, now he was back, her anger might soften.

‘I’ll do my best. I can’t promise anything. I’ll talk to her, though. I told her I intended to come here today, but she wasn’t as unhappy about it as I thought she’d be. Besides, I have a trump card to play.’ He laughed.

‘What’s that?’

‘I don't think she can refuse me anything I ask. Her only child, returned safely to her – I’m not sure there’s anything she wouldn’t do for me.’

‘If you could talk to her… and your father too… if I had the chance to tell them how sorry I’ve always been, and if they could find it in themselves not to hate me, I wouldn’t ask for anything else. I’ve been so unhappy over the years, you see. The guilt. It would mean so much to me.’

‘I’ll talk to them when I get a chance. I’ll come back to visit you again, too. If that’s all right?’

‘You can’t think how happy that would make me.’

‘Got any paper?’

She handed him a pad of Post-It notes. He wrote down his address and contact details. ‘Here. You can call anytime. I hope you will.’ He did, too. ‘You’ve meant something very important to me over the years.’

‘You’ll get fed up of me calling.’

‘Will you promise me something?’

‘Anything.’ She laughed. ‘Guess I’m like your mother. I don't think I’m capable of saying no to anything you asked. Look at you. You’ve grown up so tall. So handsome. The way I always thought you would.’

He grasped her shoulders, forcing her to meet his gaze. He needed her to take what he intended to say into her heart as well as her head. ‘I want you to stop punishing yourself. Go and live your life, really live it. Nothing would make me happier than for you to tell me you’d found yourself someone to marry, even got pregnant. It’s not too late,’ as she shook her head. ‘But whatever you do, stop blaming yourself. Will you promise me?’

She didn't reply at first. Twenty-two years of guilt and self-hatred were eating away at her, Daniel thought; not something she’d be able to brush aside and make disappear overnight.

‘Please, Alison. Do it for me.’ She gave him a slight smile.

‘I’ll do my best. Won’t be easy, but I can’t tell you what seeing you today has done for me. It became my whole life, the guilt. I’ll need to find something to replace it.’

‘How about living well and being happy?’

As he said the words, Annie suddenly came to mind again, the soft liquid of her voice sounding in his brain. She’d probably tell him, in her blunt fashion, that he ought to apply such advice to himself. Perhaps she’d have a point, he thought.

He’d meant what he’d said to Alison. He’d keep in touch with her, and he’d be on her case if he didn’t think she was making good on her promise.

He glanced at his watch. ‘We've plenty of time before the last train back. Come on. I’ll take you out, buy us a meal.’ He tightened his arm around her shoulder. ‘It’ll be the start of your new happier life. Where’s good to eat in Bristol?’

27

A MOTHER AGAIN

We both slept late the next day, exhausted after the night before. I woke up to find Daniel still asleep, and I padded quietly out of bed and took a quick shower. He’d begun to stir by the time I got back.

‘Come on, sweetheart. Let’s get you washed and dressed, and then you can have some breakfast with Mummy. We’ll have hot buttery toast. Would you like that?’ He stared up at me blearily, and I pulled him out of bed, setting him down on his feet. I led him by the hand into the bathroom and started to run a bath, tugging off his pyjamas.

‘Where’s Alison?’ he asked. I couldn’t think whom he meant at first; then I realised. He must be talking about his nanny. I never did find out her name.

‘She’s had to go and look after another little boy, darling. I’m here now, Daniel, and I’ll be looking after you and loving you. We’ll have such fun together. We’ll go to the park, and play on the swings; we’ll watch cartoons together here at home, and we’ll be so happy. I think your bath’s ready now, my love. In you get.’ I started soaping him up, smiling as I ran the sponge over the endearing mole on his right hip. He was such a good boy, although I wished he would talk a little more. I looked into his face, seeing the same bewilderment as last night. I ran my hand through his wet hair, trying to reassure him. ‘I think we’re about done now, darling. Let’s dry you off.’ I towelled him briskly once I got him out of the bath, and quickly pulled on his clothes. I hugged him close, inhaling the scent of the shampoo I’d used. He smelled delicious and I would have held him forever in my arms if I could.

We walked into the kitchen. I slotted bread into the toaster and poured Daniel some juice. He was still silent.

‘Where’s my mummy?’ he eventually asked. I thought quickly. The sooner he realised I was his mummy now, the better; I’d do best to act as if his mother and the nanny were completely out of his life.

‘Mummy’s here, darling. The other lady – she just took care of you until I came along to be your real mummy, the one who’s going to love you for ever and ever.’ I steered a finger of toast towards his mouth. ‘Look, my love. Marmite soldiers. Isn’t that nice?’

It took me nearly an hour before I got him to eat any of the toast, coaxing as best I could. No tears or tantrums; instead, Daniel stayed silent, withdrawn.

I tried to reassure myself. Here was a small boy, who’d had a routine in his life, one that had been suddenly interrupted; I simply had to replace it. I made plans. We’d have fun and read together in the mornings and I’d find a local playgroup to take him to in the afternoons. I wanted him to be with other children as much as possible, once he became more settled; the nanny had never talked about playgroups, and I suspected Daniel had spent most of his days alone with her. Yet another way in which his new life with me would be much better. Everything would be fine, I told myself.

The rest of the day passed quietly, with Daniel docilely doing what I told him but still hardly talking at all. I showed him his bedroom, and he did perk up somewhat when he saw the boxes of toys, running over excitedly. My mood lifted a little. We pulled out wooden trains, plastic soldiers and soft toys, and soon the floor became a complete mess, Daniel pushing a toy car back and forth and making vroom-vroom sounds. My fantasies made real at last. I hugged and kissed him as often as he’d allow. I wanted to give him as much physical affection as possible; I knew the nanny had been fond of him, but I didn’t know to what extent he’d been cuddled and loved before. His quasi-mother probably hadn’t bothered with much of that. Too concerned with her precious career.

When bedtime came, I got him settled in his own room by reading to him, part of our new routine. A good mother would do that anyway, and I intended to be a fantastic mother. After an hour or so, I thought he’d fallen asleep, but then his eyes opened and he stared at me in the semi-gloom with a bewildered look on his face again.

‘Mummy?’ His voice quavered, high and uncertain; tears pricked the backs of my eyes and love for my beautiful boy shot through me. I pulled him tight against me, stroking his hair.

‘Yes, darling,’ I whispered. ‘Mummy’s here. I love you, sweetheart.’ I rocked him and I could have stayed there forever, Daniel safe and secure in my arms, the word Mummy echoing in my head.

People believe what they want to believe, and I was no exception. The word had come from my Daniel’s mouth and much sooner than I’d dare hope. He meant me, I told myself in a surge of ecstasy, squashing down the voice of denial telling me otherwise. I wouldn’t let myself believe he’d been thinking of his other mummy, wanting her instead of me. He was too young to understand how I’d love him far more than she ever had.

I reluctantly lowered him down. ‘Goodnight, darling. I’ll leave the door open and the light on outside and if you need anything, you call Mummy, and she’ll come right away.’

I watched the news on TV after putting Daniel to bed. I couldn’t help myself; underneath the euphoria at finally having my beautiful boy with me lurked fear, dark, insistent and terrible. Had I covered my tracks well enough? Discovery by the police would mean my darling being snatched from me, a thought so unbearable I shoved it instantly away.