Her Perfect Family(38)

OK. So I think what I’m going to do is this. I’m going to buy another test (why, oh why, did I only get one?). If that comes back positive too, I’m going to check my calendar and phone some helplines to work out where I am on my dates – also my options before I contact him.

Maybe he’ll surprise me? I mean, I don’t want to have a baby now. I want to get my career going. It would be completely bonkers to have a baby now. But I don’t actually know if I can face the alternatives. Would I regret it? Ever forgive myself?

I don’t know. I don’t know.

I’m supposed to be at Pilates tonight but I can’t face it. Can’t face anything.

What an idiot, Gemma. What a complete and horrible nightmare.

It just feels surreal. I’ve had friends who’ve had scares and they’ve always turned out OK but I’d never really appreciated how it would feel. And I just don’t know how I got here. Feels like Alice grew up into the worst possible disaster down that stupid, stinking rabbit hole.





CHAPTER 25


THE PRIVATE INVESTIGATOR


‘Right. Talk me through what we’ve got so far.’ Mel is staring through the glass screen to the interior of the forensic lab. The two dolls, the identical boxes and the various sample pots and bags are carefully laid out on a table within the sealed area. Hannah, the senior forensic scientist, is still in her protective clothing. She’s doing them a big favour by agreeing to this preliminary briefing.

It’s Tuesday, just twenty-four hours since the drama. The confusion. Matthew glances between Hannah and Mel, all the while thinking of Amelie and Sally in that summer house. The panic and the awful wait while the team sent in a sniffer dog to check the box in the kitchen. No sign of explosives. The careful removal. The phone call from Mel confirming that the hospital delivery was also cleared – no explosives.

Relief. Relief. Relief . . .

‘It’s early days.’ Hannah sighs. ‘I know I owe you one, Mel, but don’t build your hopes up.’ Her voice, relayed by speaker to the area outside the lab, is slightly distorted by the microphone inside her cubicle. Tinny. Mel and Matthew can’t go inside without gowning up and they don’t have time.

‘I know, and I appreciate this. But do we have anything helpful yet? Anything at all?’ Mel’s fidgeting and Matthew shares a small, encouraging smile with her. She’s under even greater pressure. The press have been told the final graduation is going ahead. Everyone assumed safe. And now this . . .

‘Right. So the dolls are called Tiny Tears. Famous brand. Global success. First launched in the fifties and sixties. This modern version is by a new manufacturer – readily available. Not very expensive.’

‘I didn’t know they still made these.’ Mel looks puzzled. ‘My mum had one. Think it’s still in the loft.’

‘Well, you should get it out. Originals are collectable now.’ Hannah adjusts her protective lab coat and goggles.

‘OK. So the blood coming out of the eyes. How the hell?’ Matthew’s not interested in the value of the bloody dolls.

‘Tiny Tears was designed to cry real tears and wet her nappy. Basically, you feed her water from a bottle and that’s pumped back out of the eyes . . . and other parts.’ Mel clears her throat. ‘Our sender, as a malicious twist, decided to pump these two full of blood. Well – not real blood.’

‘It’s definitely not real?’ Looked like real blood to Matthew. Thick. Dark. Nasty. Sally was convinced it was blood when she first saw the doll.

‘It’s good quality but definitely fake blood – the kind you can get from any joke shop. Popular at Halloween. We’ve run tests to try to identify the brand.’

Matthew stares at the blood on the dolls’ faces, which is staining their lemon Babygros. He’s remembering Sally’s quick thinking when Amelie first saw the red leaking from the eyes when they set the box upright. It’s a Halloween doll. Sent by mistake . . .

‘OK. So we all agree our sender has a warped mind. But what about prints? What have we got?’ Mel narrows her eyes as if dreading the response.

‘Sorry. Nothing. All we’ve got so far are a few carpet fibres from the box. Regular wool mix. Not unusual. Very popular colour. Not very helpful I’m afraid.’

‘And nothing else?’ Mel looks crestfallen.

‘Sorry, Melanie. I’ll run the tests again. Update you when I do the full report.’

‘Thanks. Appreciate that.’

‘But good it wasn’t explosives.’ Hannah has lifted her voice but Mel has already turned away, and Matthew follows her out of the viewing area and through a door to the narrow corridor beyond.

‘Right. So we’ll get the team checking distribution of these dolls. We’ve got the hospital CCTV. It was a motorcycle courier, wearing a bloody helmet. He – or she, hard to tell – persuaded a hospital volunteer to take the gift up to the ward.’

‘Still don’t get how that was allowed.’

‘Let’s not go there. The volunteer was wearing a tabard labelled “Can I help?” Meant well. Had read about Gemma in the papers and thought it was nice for someone to send her something. She thought she was sparing hospital staff some time. So what about your delivery? Has Sally remembered anything else?’