Eight
A cockerel screeched in the distance. Debbie smiled, savouring the sound of the outside world. She placed her ear against the wall, hoping to hear it a little clearer. Occasionally she’d hear vehicles rumble by. She knew she was by a road and that it was likely a minor one. It was probably only an access road, given the number of vehicles that used it. On a still day, she was sure she could hear the hum of traffic. Maybe there was a dual carriageway or a motorway in the distance. She had no idea where she was, except that it was rural and she was being kept in a cold, two-storey outbuilding.
The night she’d been taken haunted her. At six thirty that evening she’d left work for the bus stop. She normally finished at five but she’d been making up time after watching Heidi’s Christmas play earlier in the day. Luke had nagged her for years to take her driving test again, but earlier failures and her near miss of an elderly man crossing the road on a mobility scooter had rendered her phobic of driving. She pondered the ‘what ifs’ over and over again, until they’d driven her crazy. That Friday, the twentieth of December, was the beginning of what was to become her nightmare.
The orange glow of lamplights led Debbie through the deserted industrial estate. Rain bounced off her umbrella as she passed a factory and scurried alongside the closed snack van. A cat darted across the path and a small van narrowly missed hitting it. Water seeped into her shoes; her toes had been numb for a good five minutes already. Then the van stopped in the road beside her, the driver like some sort of hero in a warm vehicle. As his window came down, the sound of Christmas filled the air. Mariah Carey sang, ‘All I want for Christmas is you.’ The scent of his vanilla air freshener travelled with the breeze, filling her nostrils.
‘Hop in. I’ve just got to collect something from the electrical unit around the corner before they close. You look like you could use a lift,’ he said with a warm smile.
Although she didn’t know him well, she’d always thought him to be polite in passing. Did she know him well enough to get in the van? She thought of the things she would say to her own children. She always told them never to get in anyone’s car, familiar or not. ‘I’ll be okay,’ she called. He scrunched his brow and placed his hand by his ear as he beckoned her over. The music overpowered every sound around them. She stepped closer to the open window and leaned in, shouting over the noise. ‘I’m fine, but thanks for the offer. I’m heading to the shop and it’s only a few minutes down the path. I have a few bits to do first. It was really kind of you to offer though.’ But before she had the chance to stand upright, he leaned across the passenger seat and up towards her. The sharp prick in her neck made her wince. ‘What? Why?’ she managed to mumble as the drug began to take effect. She stumbled away from the car. The orange glowing lamps seemed to fall from the sky and block her way. She staggered, trying to avoid them, one step after another. As she pushed further, her legs felt like they were slowly being filled with cold sand, until she could no longer run. She fell to her knees, landing in a freezing cold puddle. He grabbed her from behind. She tried to yell but no sound came out.
‘You need to get in the van where it’s warm. I’ll look after you, keep you safe,’ he said as he kissed her head. He dragged her unresponsive body across the rough pavement. Her shoe – she was losing her shoe. She tried to clench her floppy feet but gave up and her loose shoe slipped off. The heaviness, the lights, even the stars were blurring into a strange light beam. She gasped as he bundled her helpless body into the back of the van. Wizzard sang ‘I wish it could be Christmas every day’ – one of her all-time favourites. The overpowering smell of his vanilla air freshener left a lasting memory before the darkness filled her mind and ended the ordeal.
That was a long time ago. Now, she stared into the darkness of a cold room, which is what she’d done every day since.
Her heart hammered as she heard his car trundling up the bumpy road. Her aching body tensed up. ‘Don’t upset him,’ she repeated several times as she heard the slam of his car door. ‘One, two, three…’ She continued counting until she reached twenty and he reached the bottom door. He stomped up the stairs before unlocking the door to her prison. He yelled and cried, then kicked a chair across the room. She flinched. Her body stiffened as her wide eyes locked onto his. She glanced away.
He dashed to her side and grabbed her hair, yanking her back. ‘I didn’t get to see Florence. I wanted to so badly but the ward door was locked and there were people there, there were people everywhere. They were looking at me… I’m sure they were looking at me. Why me?’ As she struggled to catch her breath, he let go of her, bouncing her head off the wall. He removed his woollen hat, revealing his flattened hair. He paced and began muttering under his breath, as he always did when he was stressed.
A tear trickled down her cheek. Her baby was safe, but her thoughts had now moved on to her baby’s future. With no mother coming forward, her little one would end up being fostered, then adopted. She wanted her baby. She wanted her baby to know she was her mother. She wanted to hold her, feed her, love her, take her to school and watch her grow up. At the start of the pregnancy, it had been easy to think that she wouldn’t bond with the life inside her because of the horrific circumstances in which she was conceived. But as that life grew, as it hiccupped and turned, she’d felt hope, a connection. After the birth, she’d wanted nothing more than to hold and nurture her baby. Her daughter needed to know she had a brother, a sister and a grandmother who would all love her. ‘Please, you have to get her to my mother. Let my mother look after her. Your ma would want that too. She’s also a grandmother. Don’t do this to her. Please help me. Help Florence.’
He looked into her eyes, staring deeply. The battery-powered light and his stare almost blinded her. She looked down before he could get angry.
‘We could have her back when things get better,’ he whispered. Pacing up and down, he continued to mutter to the shadows while banging the side of his head with a loose fist. ‘What should I do?’
‘I can’t lose her forever. Please. Do something, I beg you. Just tell the police she’s mine. You can do it anonymously.’
He stopped pacing and turned to face her. ‘Ours. She doesn’t just belong to you. I made her too.’
She wiped his spit from the corner of her eye. ‘And would you want our baby to be lost forever and be sent to live with strangers? My mum will love her, care for her and look after her,’ she cried.
‘What the hell should I do? She’s gone.’
‘She didn’t have to go. You made her go and you can fix this,’ Debbie yelled.
‘You couldn’t shut her up, could you?’
‘You didn’t give me a chance. Babies cry. Please help me, please. I can’t lose her. We can’t lose her. Your ma can’t lose her.’ Mucus dripped from Debbie’s nose as tears poured from her red-rimmed eyes. He kneeled on the bed beside her and kissed her forehead. She clenched her teeth to fight the pain as he sat and pulled her into his embrace. ‘I love you. You know I love you, don’t you? I love Florence too. I don’t know what to do. Florence wouldn’t shut up. Mother goes mad when she hears noise. I can’t have Ma upset. What do I do? I don’t know. I just don’t know,’ he said, rocking her back and forth, dragging her broken body with every movement.
‘You do. You could tell them to check her DNA. They’ll link her to me. Please just call them. It’s our only hope. You will lose her forever – you know that, don’t you? You will never see your baby again. Is that what you want?’
She knew the police had her DNA on file. Just after she’d been taken, she’d heard talk on the news about a body turning up in the River Avon, by the Marcliff Weir. The local papers had initially linked the body to her. He’d enjoyed taunting her, telling her that people would think she was the decomposed river corpse and they’d never look for her. He’d sneered as he told her how he’d watched the ‘dirty whore’ gagging on the icy river water until her dying breath. She shuddered at the thought.
She’d heard another newsflash soon after the incident. DNA had been used to eliminate her. She knew her DNA was on file, and could be matched to her baby’s.
‘I can’t lose her forever. You’re right,’ he said. ‘I shouldn’t have left her.’
Blood pumped through Debbie’s body as she pressed him harder. ‘You will lose her if you don’t make the call. Imagine never seeing her little face again or her perfect little fingers and toes. Imagine never knowing where that life you created ended up. Please make the call before it’s too late, or you’ll never see her again.’
‘I don’t know what to do.’
If he called the police, they’d look for her. Were they still looking? Had he slipped up in any way before this? This was her chance. She imagined the reunion after the police saved her. She’d run into Luke’s warm arms and see her two beautiful children. Her mother would turn up with her baby and they’d all be a family. That was the tiny glimmer of hope that would keep her going.
‘I don’t know what to do!’ he yelled. As abruptly as he’d grabbed her, he let her go, propelling her forward as he moved.
‘Please. Make the call. Not for me, but for you. You’ll never know where your baby is if you don’t make that call. Don’t lose her forever. They’ll match my DNA. We know they have it on file, from when the body turned up in the river, remember?’ Debbie reached out and touched his hand.
‘Why did you bring that up?’ He removed his hand. ‘She was a whore,’ he said, looking away.
Debbie removed her hand from his.
‘She was a whore. I wanted you. You! How dare you ever bring that up!’ He spat in her face and pushed her away. Without so much as a glance back, he left and locked the door, leaving her once again in darkness, with only the outside noises to occupy her.
‘Please make the call,’ she yelled, as she burst into uncontrollable sobs. ‘What did you do?’ She rocked back and forth and closed her eyes. ‘Make the call. Please!’ She heard the bottom door slam.
‘Damn it, damn it,’ he said as he locked the door. He stared at the grey skies above as he stood outside the main house. The curtains were still closed. He’d not got round to opening them.
‘Have you got my bread?’ the old woman asked as she opened the front door, letting the dog out.
The little black spaniel jumped up around his legs. ‘Get lost, Rosie,’ he said, giving it a kick and brushing past his mother.
‘Where’s my bread?’ she yelled.
‘You’ve had your breakfast. I gave you bread. Honey on toast, you wanted.’ He began pacing the hallway as he ran his fingers through his hair. ‘Where have you put my other phone?’
The old woman stared at him blankly. ‘Are we going to the shops?’ She walked over to the coat stand by the door and began putting one of his old coats on inside out. Her illness was taking a toll on him. The dog bounded back in, shaking its wet fur off against the wall. ‘Dog – get out,’ his mother shouted. ‘Get out. Get out. Get out.’
He hurried over to her and grabbed her arm. The woman yelled in pain as he shoved her outside and slammed the door, shutting her and the dog out. He bent over and stared through the letter box. She was still standing there, wearing his inside-out coat, waiting. For what? He had no idea. He wasn’t taking her shopping today. He wasn’t taking her shopping ever.
The kitchen. He’d last seen the phone in the kitchen drawer. He ran and opened it, smiling as he grabbed the phone, the one where he kept all the old photos he’d taken of Debbie before they’d got together. He grabbed the charger and plugged it in. Just a couple of minutes’ worth of charge would be enough to make the phone call. He couldn’t lose Florence forever. He needed to call the police. He opened the top cupboard and a straw hat fell out. He grabbed his mother’s old scarf, which had been folded up underneath it. It would be useful to distort his voice. His Debbie phone had never been registered and he’d bought it with cash. It was safe to use. He’d drive out, into the middle of nowhere, make the shortest call ever, destroy the SIM card and head back.
There was a knock at the door and the dog barked. He dashed to open it, letting his mother in. The woman was shivering and crying. He took her hand and led her to her chair in the living room. ‘Sit there, Ma. I won’t be long.’
‘I want to go to the shop.’ She began to sob as she rocked back and forth. He grabbed one of her chicken pies from the sideboard, opened it and handed it to her. The dog lay by her feet, waiting for crumbs.
‘I’ll be back soon.’ He kissed her on the cheek and left, locking the door behind him.