His Kidnapper's Shoes (27 page)

‘Best offer I’ve had all night. Thanks.’

‘It’ll be a long wait. I don't finish until two.’

‘You’re worth waiting for.’

She grinned. ‘God, that was bad. Are you always so corny?’

‘Sorry.’ He smiled apologetically. ‘Force of habit around women, I guess. Usually I spin a better line than that. I’m not coming on to you, honest.’

The night passed slowly, Daniel brushing off several attempts to pick him up from both men and women. He wasn’t here for sex, not tonight. He didn’t mind the time spent at the bar. He reckoned he’d be proved right; Annie would be worth the wait.

At two o’clock, Annie motioned with her head towards the door. ‘Wait for me outside. I’ll be five minutes, tops. My flat’s just around the corner.’

Daniel stood in the cold night air, hands in his pockets, and then she was beside him, bundled up in a thick coat, her bag slung over her shoulder. ‘Come on. This way.’

They walked up the stairs to her top-floor flat and she unlocked the door. ‘Make yourself at home, if you can find room. Excuse the mess, but I’m not the tidy sort.’ She gestured towards a battered sofa, strewn with books and magazines. ‘I’ll get the coffee perking.’

Daniel tossed aside some books - looked like she was into Gauguin, Matisse and Bertrand Russell - and sat down. He wondered about this woman, who took an interest in art and philosophy and worked nights in a bar, a woman who was nothing to look at but who had read him like the proverbial book.

She brought in two steaming mugs. ‘You managed to find space amongst the chaos, then. So tell me. What’s been so bad about this week for you?’

‘Do you always get straight to the point?’

‘Yep. Get used to it.’

‘Where do I start?’ Daniel sighed. ‘My ex-girlfriend flew to Australia yesterday. She’s emigrated.’

‘Ouch. Was it a painful split?’

‘Yes, very. Not what either of us wanted.’

Annie raised an eyebrow. ‘You’re going to have to explain that one. Why break up, if that was the case?’ She paused. ‘Was she married, Daniel?’

He shook his head. ‘No. We were both single. Everything had been going great between us. Except for the fact that…’ He had to tell her; it would make no sense to her otherwise. He kept his eyes on Annie, willing her to be OK with this. ‘We didn’t realise, not until I started delving into my past and all the stuff about the kidnap came out…I’d been dating my own aunt, Annie.’ He dropped his gaze. ‘She’s the kid sister of my mother, and neither of us had a clue.’

‘Shit, Daniel. That’s rough. Really rough.’ He didn’t hear any censure in her voice. ‘You loved her?’

‘Yes. Getting there, anyway. We hadn’t been together long, but Katie was special. Like no other woman I’d ever dated. She’d been planning on going to Australia before we met, but we’d started talking about me going with her, and I was up for it.’ He drained his coffee. ‘She decided to leave anyway once all this shit came out. It would have been too awful for me, seeing her all the time, and she felt the same way. It’s a close knit family, you see.’

‘What about the rest of the family? Your mum, your dad - that must have torn them up as well.’

‘They don’t know, and never will. The one good thing I can say about the whole screwed-up mess. She never told them much about me; she liked to tease her mum that way. She was going to tell them, but then we found out about all this.’

‘Yup. That’s one good thing.’

‘It’s ironic.’ Daniel shook his head. ‘She once referred to me being kidnapped as the skeleton in the family closet. Now I’ve been replaced by two new skeletons - Katie and me, and they’re never going to get out. My family’s been through enough.’

‘Yes. You have, too. You’ve lost your girlfriend, and had to come to terms with a whole new idea of who you are. Can’t be easy, Daniel.’

‘No. No, it’s not.’ Jeez, you don’t know the half of it, he thought.

‘It would have all been different if that woman hadn’t kidnapped me.’ Bitterness tinged his voice. ‘I love to paint, you see. It’s all I ever wanted to do, growing up. Go to college; make a name for myself in the art world. But I couldn’t. My stepfather hated me and refused to pay for me to go. I couldn’t see a way to make enough money to fund a degree myself; I didn’t want huge student loans either. Painting’s not renowned as being a big money earner for most artists.’ God, he hated how petulant he sounded. ‘My new family, they’re all creative and talented; well-off as well. My parents, they wouldn’t have hesitated to send me to college. So I didn’t only lose my girlfriend, I lost my art as well.’

‘You hate her, don’t you? The woman who took you?’

‘Yes, I do.’

‘Do you know why she abducted you?’

‘No one does. She won’t talk. Retreated into her own little world and isn’t saying anything. I’ll probably never find out.’ He sounded bitter again, he realised. ‘She had a child of her own at some point and I ended up with his name and birth certificate. The police are looking into all that. But she told so many lies; it’s hard to tell.’

‘Have you thought why she took you and raised you as her son? She must have had a powerful reason to do what she did, Daniel. Did you ever think she might deserve your compassion, rather than your judgement?’

Anger surged hotly within him. She had no idea. He’d been wrong to think she’d understand.

‘Hey, don’t look so pissed off, mister. I realise you didn’t like hearing that. But think about this. Try walking in her shoes. You say she won’t talk. That’s a sign of someone who’s been damaged by life and I’d bet a load of money a sad story lies behind all this. You reckon you’ve had a rough deal - well, perhaps she’s endured a hell of a lot worse. Suffering heartbreak can send you off the rails. Believe me.’ She looked away.

Shame for his petulant behaviour replaced Daniel’s anger. ‘I’m sorry. You’re probably right. She has a history of mental health issues. Bouts of depression, stuff like that. Perhaps she lied about or kept hidden other things as well. I hardly know her, I suppose, in spite of living with her for so long. I need answers, though. Answers she doesn’t seem willing to give.’ He picked up his empty mug. ‘Any chance of a refill? Or have you had enough of me and my self-pity?’

‘Refill coming up.’ She took his mug. ‘And there’s something else you’re not telling me. Oh, don’t try to deny it,’ she said, seeing him start to shake his head. ‘You’re hiding something, besides losing your girlfriend and missing out on going to college and all the rest of it. I’ll listen, if you want to share. It’s your call.’ She went out to the kitchen.

She was sharp, this woman, to detect the festering secret he’d shoved deep down inside for years and which he never permitted to surface, except on the occasional visit to certain seedy sex clubs. But she had sniffed out his shame with unerring precision. Sharp didn’t even begin to describe her. He wondered if he could bring himself to tell her what he’d never told anyone before.

But, he remembered, there had been nobody he trusted enough.

His gut was telling him he’d never find a better person to spill the ugly horror of what had happened to him than this woman. Not tonight, though. It was too soon to go down that road and he wasn’t sure if he could, not yet anyway. Far easier to keep everything bottled up, under control except for when he went to those clubs, the way he’d dealt with the whole crock of crap for years. Right now, he needed to deflect this conversation; things were getting too intense, too near the mark, for him. And he wanted to find out more about Annie.

She returned with the refilled coffee mugs. ‘So, mister. You care to share your deep, dark secret?’

‘Not sure this is the right time. Or whether I’ll ever think the time is right. Listen, I’ve been rattling on to you about my life, my problems. Enough of me; I want to hear about you. What made you work in a pick-up joint serving beer? When you’re into art and…’ He picked up a book. ‘Forgiveness: A Practical Guide’? Who are you, Annie? What’s your story?’

‘It’s not a pretty one, Daniel. I’ve never talked to anyone here in London about what happened, not since packing my bags and walking out on my life nearly six months ago. Not sure I’m ready to tell you now.’

‘Then don’t. As you said to me, it’s your call. If you choose to, though, I’ll listen; you’d be doing me a favour. I've been a bit self-absorbed lately. You'll give me something to think about besides my own problems.’ He smiled at her. ‘Up to you.’

29

THE BIGGER PICTURE

I had no idea how to go about meeting a father for Daniel. My daily life was so narrow, centred as it was on my boy; I never met any men, let alone unmarried ones who might be suitable. Doing something like joining a dating agency required a degree of confidence I didn’t possess. Self-doubt plagued my thoughts. Would anybody want someone like me – timid, mousy, a single parent? I wondered vaguely whether I’d make friends with the other mothers once Daniel started nursery school, women who might be able to set me up with unattached relatives. The thought held little appeal but I didn’t have many options available.

I worried all the time during Daniel’s first day at nursery school. I hated being apart from my darling, but when I went to pick him up I watched him running around and laughing with the other children and a weight lifted off me. My little boy was happy, I told myself. He was a child, after all; he needed more than his mummy in his life. Friends of the same age were important as well.

He’d be able to paint at nursery school, too; his love of art had amazed me over the course of the summer. In fact, it was what he liked to do best; he would get completely absorbed in it, sitting on the floor with his brushes and paints, daubing shapes and colours onto paper, lost in his own world. I’d papered the walls of the flat with his creations. ‘My little Picasso,’ I called him.

The questions started later on that day after I’d tucked him up in bed and finished his bedtime story.

‘Where’s the other lady?’ he asked. I hadn’t a clue who he meant.

‘The other lady. She used to sit by my bed before I went to sleep.’

Panic hit me. I realised who he must mean. I had no idea how to deal with the question, though.

I only had one option, I thought. I would carry on denying all knowledge of his parents and the nanny. It was for the best, as well as being the kindest thing to do. They were out of his life for good and I intended it should stay that way.

‘There’s no other lady, darling.’ I leaned over and cuddled him. ‘Only Mummy. Perhaps you dreamed about this person and she seemed real. It can be like that sometimes.’

‘What about the lady who used to play with me? The one with the dark hair?’

‘She was a dream too, darling. She’s not real either.’ I pulled back and met his puzzled look with a smile. ‘Nighty-night, Daniel. Sleep tight.’

I persuaded myself I’d handled things well. Any hazy memories Daniel still had of his past life would surely fade soon, buried under the weight of my love. It was simply a matter of time.

I had other things to think about anyway; I’d seen a job advertised in the paper for a part-time accounts clerk at a local construction company. The hours fitted exactly with what I needed; it would work in perfectly with Daniel’s schedule at nursery school. I carefully drafted a letter and a summary of my qualifications. A week later, I got a reply asking me to telephone for an interview.

It didn’t turn out as nerve-wracking as I’d feared. Maria, who interviewed me, seemed friendly, more as if we were having a chat rather than a formal job interview. She headed up the accounts function and the present purchase ledger clerk was retiring; they needed somebody by the end of the month to fill the gap. She didn’t seem concerned about my lack of practical experience. I think she liked the fact I didn’t have to give notice anywhere else and she was a mother like me, so when I mentioned Daniel and she talked about her two little boys we immediately established a rapport.

‘When can you start?’ she asked. I almost leapt over the desk and hugged her.

Things went even better than I’d hoped. Maria was a dream to work for, and I took to the job straightaway. Daniel had settled in well at nursery school and I’d started to think again about finding a father for him, still unsure as to how to meet someone suitable.

It turned out to be work that provided the answer.

I came back from lunch one day to find a tall man chatting with Maria. I registered his dark good looks and the way his smile warmed up what would otherwise be a stern face.

Maria introduced us. ‘Laura, this is Ian Bateman. He’s the financial advisor to the directors here. Ian, this is Laura Covey, my assistant.’

He took my hand; a good firm grip. ‘Lovely to meet you, Laura.’

My face flushed. I stole a look at the third finger of his left hand. No wedding ring.

Maria laughed once he’d left. ‘I think you made quite an impression on him.’

Later on that night, Daniel was unusually difficult to settle in bed.

‘Would you like some hot milk?’ I asked.

He shook his head. ‘Been thinking about the lady who used to sit by my bed.’

Anxiety hit me; I had hoped I’d laid that particular ghost to rest. Apparently not.