The Child(34)

He knew Charlie. He knows my dad, a voice was whispering in my head.

Harry was chatting away, telling this stranger that I was Jude’s daughter and looking for my dad. And then he looked down the path at me and I wondered what he was thinking. None of us said anything for a moment. Finally, he said: “I’m Darrell, by the way. You’d better come in.” And we did.

I can still smell that house; years of patchouli oil overlaid by grime, suffocating and musky like a hippie’s old afghan coat. And it was so dark I kept stumbling over shapes. I wasn’t sure if they were human and I was frightened.

“Electric is off again,” he said. “Someone forgot to pay the bill.”

“Why are the windows boarded up?” Harry asked.

“Keep the marauders out,” he laughed. “It’s a squat, love.”

“Oh. Never been in a squat before,” Harry said, conversationally. All that time, I hadn’t uttered a word. I couldn’t think of a thing to say except, “Do you know where my dad is now?” I kept saying it in my head. Trying out how it felt.

? ? ?

He took us for coffee in the café up the road so we could talk, and I couldn’t stop looking at him.

When the waitress brought the order, he pushed my cup across the table and said, “Emma. That’s a lovely name. I remember your mum very well. She was so beautiful. I always fancied her, but she was Charlie’s bird.” I don’t know why but I started crying and Harry got all embarrassed.

“Stop it, Emma,” she said, handing me a wad of napkins from the dispenser. But I couldn’t so I went and stood on the pavement with her while Darrell paid.

“Come on,” he said to me outside, taking my hand. “Let’s go for a walk and talk about Jude for a bit.”

Harry gave me a look. She was being dumped and was very unhappy about it. Normally, it was me who got left while she disappeared off with her latest boyfriend.

“See you back here, then. We need to get the four o’clock train home,” she hissed at me.

“I’ll have her back in time,” he said and led me off.





TWENTY-SEVEN


    Kate


MONDAY, APRIL 2, 2012

When they left, Angela kissed both of them good-bye. The intimacy had taken Joe by surprise but Kate had expected it. They’d been privy to Angela’s deepest feelings and thoughts and the mother felt that, in that moment, they were close friends. Pink faced, Joe had pulled back awkwardly from the embrace but Kate had hugged Angela back.

“Thank you so much, Angela. I know how hard this must have been, but you’ve been brilliant,” she’d said at the door. “I’ll call you later to sort out when the photographer can come. Take care of yourself.

“And, remember, if any other reporter calls, ‘No comment.’”

Angela had smiled, the catharsis of confession still washing over her. “You were the first to call me, Kate, so I’m happy to only speak to you.”

Kate had considered offering money, to ensure exclusivity, on the drive down. If the Building Site Baby did turn out to be Alice Irving, it would be a big story and others would go after it. She’d brought a blank contract with her, just in case, but, within minutes of sitting down opposite Angela, she could see that even mentioning payment would kill the relationship. This woman wasn’t interested in making a buck. She wanted to know what had happened to her baby. End of.

She’d have to trust her.

In the car, Joe didn’t say a word. The chirping silenced by the proximity to personal tragedy.

“You all right?” Kate asked. “That was a great talk, wasn’t it? But there is nothing screaming that it is the right baby yet. God, I hope it is Alice.”

“Yes,” Joe agreed. “How will she cope if it isn’t? Poor woman . . . ”

Kate reached over and squeezed his hand. First-time blues, she thought.

“It might be Alice, Joe, but it’s still a very long shot. We shouldn’t get too excited until the police have done DNA tests on Angela and the baby’s remains. If there is a match, we’ll know they are related.”

Joe nodded. It’s really shaken him, Kate thought.

“Come on, let’s go and have a cup of tea and call Bob Sparkes. Get this story moving.”

? ? ?

He sounded distracted when he answered the phone. “Sparkes,” he announced.

Kate grinned. This man-of-few-words thing was becoming almost a parody.

“Bob, it’s Kate. I’m in Winchester. Been to see Angela Irving,” she said.

The detective’s tone changed immediately.

“Hi, Kate, good to hear from you. How was she? What did she say?”

“She’s convinced the body is Alice. But it’s a gut feeling. Nothing concrete, she can’t think of any links to the area where the body was found.”

“Poor woman,” Sparkes said. “You can’t blame her for wanting it to be her baby after all these years of not knowing. Any news on forensics?”

“Nothing yet. But what we need is to get the Met to look at Angela’s DNA. I was going to call the detective in the Building Site Baby case to suggest it, but I was wondering . . .”

“What were you wondering, Kate? I can hear a favor about to be asked,” he said and laughed.