No Child of Mine (37 page)

Alex remained silent for a moment.

‘Are you still there?’ he asked.

‘I’m just wondering,’ she said, ‘how, if you didn’t know her, that you knew she was “deranged?”’

There was an awkward moment during which she got the sense of a trap shutting – then opening again as he said, ‘I believe I mentioned during our early conversations that this woman had contacted other people at the school, before setting her sights on me. Someone must have told me what they knew about her, and, given her behaviour, I had no reason to doubt them.’

‘I see,’ Alex said thoughtfully. ‘So can you give me any suggestions as to why there’s no record in that area of a Jill McCarthy with severe mental problems?’

Another awkward moment before he said, ‘I don’t actually recall ever having said she was local. In fact, I have no idea where she was calling from either then, or more recently.’

It was true, he hadn’t ever said that, she’d just assumed the woman was from somewhere in Northumbria, and now she was left with the thrilling prospect of a nationwide search for a nutjob she wasn’t entirely sure existed. Except she’d taken one of the anonymous calls herself, and Ben had recorded two, so someone was making them, just not Mr Wade’s mother-in-law.

Having no choice but to thank him for his time, she rang off and sat staring at her computer screen as she tried to assemble her thoughts. She was at the office now and would have gone to talk it all over with Tommy had he been there, but according to the board he was on one of the new daily visits to the Princes.

Lucky him.

‘Alex, there you are. Didn’t you get my message?’

Flinching at Wendy’s schoolmarmish tone, Alex forced her head up.

‘I’d like to have a word with you please,’ Wendy snapped.

Pushing back from her desk, Alex got to her feet.

‘Here, take this,’ Tamsin called out, throwing a child’s
skipping rope her way. ‘Give her enough of it and you’ll be doing us all a favour.’

Stifling a laugh, Alex followed Wendy into her office and would have left the door open had Wendy not told her to close it.

‘Please sit down,’ Wendy invited, waving Alex to the visitor’s chair in front of the desk.

Making sure not to roll her eyes – a reflex action where Wendy was concerned – Alex did as she was told and clasped her hands meekly in her lap. Wendy liked meekness almost as much as she liked power.

‘I have to begin by saying,’ Wendy sighed, ‘that I’m very sorry to be having this conversation with you, but your attitude lately, Alex, has been raising more than a few eyebrows around the department, as well as causing some personal offence.’

Feeling that very attitude boiling up ready for a fight, Alex said, as smoothly as possible, ‘Do you mean offence to you, or to Ben? Just so we’ve got it clear.’

Wendy’s jaw tightened. ‘Actually to both of us, and we’re not the only ones who are feeling it. You don’t run this place, Alex, though I realise you like to think you do, so perhaps now would be a good time to remind you that you’re not indispensable either.’

Alex felt the warning like a burn. Surely to God Wendy wasn’t about to sack her? For what, exactly? She hadn’t done anything wrong, apart from get right up Wendy’s back just about every time their paths crossed, which actually wasn’t always unintentional.

‘I know you find all the paperwork irritating,’ Wendy bleated on, ‘you probably even consider it a waste of your precious time, but it’s as important a part of what we do here as anything else.’

‘Have I ever not done it?’ Alex challenged, and immediately wished she’d used a less hostile tone. Even if Wendy wasn’t going to fire her today, having been so crudely reminded of redundancies amassing like marauders on the horizon, now would not be a good time to alienate her any further.

‘On the whole you do,’ Wendy conceded, ‘but only when
it suits you and not always in the time frame allotted. I know you’re going to say that’s because you’re out there dealing with the really important stuff, like protecting children, but it’s that sort of response that has earned you a reputation amongst your colleagues for considering yourself a cut above everyone else.’

Alex blinked. She definitely hadn’t seen that one coming, but nor had she ever felt it.

Wendy glanced at the time. ‘I think I’ve made myself clear ...’

‘I’m sorry,’ Alex interrupted, ‘but what you just said, about the way everyone thinks of me, is that true?’

Wendy seemed surprised to be asked. ‘Obviously I’m not saying it counts for everyone,’ she replied. ‘I know you have some good friends out there, but some of your colleagues ... Well, I don’t think it will do you any harm to realise, if you don’t know it already, that you have a habit of creating resentment amongst your peers. I daresay it’s not intentional, but together with your imperious attitude ... Well, you can’t deny that you’re an extremely fortunate young lady in almost every way. You’ve had a very privileged upbringing compared to most – and life isn’t much of a struggle for you now either, is it, not when you think of how hard some of your colleagues have to work to keep on top of their jobs, their families and to make ends meet.’

She was smiling so pleasantly that Alex was in no doubt she was enjoying this, and even believed it.

‘I’m sure most of them would love to live in a large house in a beautiful village with no mortgage weighing them down,’ Wendy continued. ‘And your car is a lot newer than most, isn’t it, and is presumably all bought and paid for.’

‘Actually, it’s seven years old and was only paid off at the end of last year,’ Alex informed her – as if it was of the slightest importance.

‘Well, that’s as maybe. What the others see when they look at you is the daughter of a man who was widely respected in this area, so most people are drawn to you just for that. I’m talking about your adoptive father, of course, the rector.’

Alex was speechless. She couldn’t get her head round which parts of that were insulting, and which were just plain mean. Not that the picture Wendy had painted was inaccurate, because obviously it wasn’t, but clearly she was only seeing it from her own myopic viewpoint. ‘Well,’ she finally managed, ‘I can only apologise if I’m causing offence to anyone by being myself. I certainly don’t mean to, but from now on I’ll do my best to be less fortunate,’ and tugging open the door she stormed out of the room.

As Alex turned into the Wades’ drive on Wednesday morning she immediately had to reverse out again to allow a Sainsbury’s delivery van to leave. As the driver waved a thank you and Alex smiled, she realised this could very well have been the woman who’d raised the alarm about Ottilie. Certainly the anonymous caller’s voice had sounded local, and as far as Alex was aware the only visits the Wades ever seemed to have were when they received a delivery. It was possible that Brian Wade took Ottilie shopping for her clothes and toys, but it seemed much more likely that most of their purchases were made via the Internet, and though she’d never seen a computer in the house, that didn’t mean there wasn’t one somewhere.

As she pulled up in front of the garage she turned off the blathering on the radio about yet more cuts, and hauling her bag from the back seat she started for the house. She’d arrived early deliberately, in the hope of having a word with Erica Wade before taking Ottilie to nursery. How successful her efforts were going to prove, given how resistant the woman was to any normal kind of communication, never mind questioning, she guessed she was about to find out. First, though, she was going to say hello to Ottilie, who was already making her heart light up with the way she was standing in the open doorway, apparently waiting for her, in her cute pink anorak with fur-trimmed hood and trainers on the wrong feet.

‘Look at you,’ she said softly, going down to her. ‘Are you all ready to go?’

Ottilie nodded and held up Boots, presumably to show that he was too.

Laughing at her shy pleasure, Alex said, ‘So are you looking forward to nursery today?’

Again Ottilie nodded, and Alex felt so thrilled by the two tiny gestures of a response that she couldn’t hold on to a single shred of the bad feelings Wendy had aroused in her.

‘I’ll just have a quick chat with Mummy before we leave, is that OK?’

Ottilie didn’t answer, only turned to watch her walk into the hall.

‘Where is she? In the kitchen?’ Alex asked, guessing she’d be unpacking the groceries that had just been delivered.

Going on through, she reached the door in time to see Erica Wade pushing a handful of pills into her mouth and washing them down with a large glass of what was presumably water. Guessing they were the anti-depressants Dr Aiden the family GP had admitted to prescribing, Trazodone, he’d said, she could only wonder at what appeared such a huge dosage, or maybe Erica was taking something else besides.

‘Mrs Wade?’ she said.

Erica spun round. Her eyes were unnaturally bright and her cheeks stained with a colour Alex had never seen in them before.

‘Can I have a word?’ Alex asked.

‘Ottilie’s ready ...’

‘I know, but ...’

‘I’m not taking her, I can’t. You do it.’

‘I’m going to, but we’ll have to address the reasons why you can’t ...’

‘Not now. I’m too busy. It’ll have to wait.’

‘For the moment maybe, but I hope you understand that you really will have to go for a mental health assessment, because if you aren’t capable of taking care of Ottilie ...’

‘Does she look uncared for? She’s fed, clothed, has plenty of toys, a roof over her head. I don’t suppose most of the children you come across have anything like as much as she does.’

‘Maybe not in a material sense, but a lot of them have love and ...’

‘Oh don’t worry, she’s not deprived of that.’ The bitterness was so scathing that Alex almost felt it cut through her.

‘What do you mean?’ she asked quietly.

Erica tossed her head. ‘What I said. Now, if you don’t mind ...’

‘Actually, I do mind. I need to ask you about something else.’

Erica sucked in a sharp breath and hung her head.

‘Are you OK?’ Alex asked.

‘I will be when I’m left alone.’

Alex was no longer sure about continuing. If there was something wrong with her physically, maybe she needed help ...

‘What is it?’ Erica snapped. ‘Just come out with it, please, then we can both get on with our day.’

Deciding simply to go for it, Alex braced herself as she said, ‘I’d like to ask you about your mother.’

Erica stiffened and drew back. ‘What about her?’ she demanded.

Before Alex could answer Erica was saying, ‘She’s dead. She died ten years ago. Why are you asking about her now?’

Sensing the need to tread carefully, Alex said, ‘Are you aware of the anonymous calls your husband received while you were still in Northumbria? Calls accusing him of killing your son?’

Erica flinched and started to turn away.

‘Did you make those calls, Mrs Wade?’ Alex asked quickly. Her heart was thudding, her palms prickling. It was a long shot, but so far it was the only logical explanation she’d been able to come up with – if it could even be termed that way, and she didn’t really think it could.

‘I don’t know what you’re talking about,’ Erica muttered. Her back was fully turned now, her thin hands gripping the edge of the sink.

‘I think you do,’ Alex insisted. ‘I just don’t understand why you’d have made them, when according to
everything I’ve read your husband was at work when it happened.’

‘I said I don’t know what you’re talking about,’ Erica seethed. ‘Now please, take Ottilie and go.’

Accepting that she might have gone far enough for the time being, Alex said, ‘We’ll be back around two. Maybe you’ll feel more up to having a chat then.’

When Erica didn’t answer or turn around she decided not to press any further, and returned to where Ottilie was still standing by the front door.

‘Tell you what,’ Alex said cheerily, ‘shall we swap your lovely trainers around or your feet might start going off in opposite directions, and we don’t want that, do we, or you might end up splitting in two.’

Ottilie’s eyes rounded, and as Alex sat her on the bottom stair to right her shoes she seemed transfixed by every move Alex made.

‘There, I expect that feels better, doesn’t it?’ Alex encouraged her, when it was all done. ‘Shall we go now?’

Getting to her feet, Ottilie reached for her hand.

Oh God, she really does want to go
. Alex could hardly believe how good that made her feel, and loving the tiny, trusting fingers tucked into hers she led the way out to the garage to collect the car seat. Moments later Ottilie and Boots were buckled safely into the back of her Punto.

‘Are you looking forward to seeing Chloe?’ Alex asked, glancing at her in the rear-view mirror as she pulled out into the traffic. ‘And Janet, and the others? I know they’re looking forward to seeing you.’

Ottilie was gazing out of the window, her solemn eyes seeming to take in everything they were passing.

‘Did you tell Mummy and Daddy about Chloe?’ Alex went on, making it sound chatty rather than inquisitive.

Ottilie didn’t reply.

‘She was very kind to you, wasn’t she? I think she’d really like to be your friend. Would you like that?’

Though Ottilie’s eyes didn’t move she gave a tiny nod of her head.

‘That’s lovely,’ Alex smiled. ‘She’ll be very pleased, you wait and see. Can you say Chloe?’

Ottilie pressed Boots up against the window, apparently letting him have a look out too.

‘What about Boots, do you think he can say Chloe?’

Ottilie nodded.

‘But only you can hear him?’

Again she nodded.

‘Perhaps you can say it for him.’

‘Chloe,’ Ottilie said in such a fragile whisper that Alex barely heard it.

‘That’s fantastic,’ Alex told her warmly. ‘He’s a very clever bear being able to say that, isn’t he?’

Ottilie planted a kiss on Boots’s face and Alex thought she was going to burst with affection.

Fifteen minutes later they were at the Pumpkin and darling, wonderful little Chloe was at Ottilie’s side, trying to find out what Ottilie would like to do.