The Child (Kate Waters #2)(52)

For the hundredth time, Jude wondered what her life would have been if she’d followed Charlie’s suggestion. If she’d got rid of her baby then. If she hadn’t talked him round, telling him he’d make the most brilliant father and kissing him into submission.

Too late for all that what-if, she told herself. She’d won the initial battle with Charlie and had to live with the consequences.

He’d taken a while to get used to the idea, but there were days when he stroked her stomach and joined in her chatter about names and the future. But he went away more and more. On tour, he said. She wasn’t sure if he was lying but decided she didn’t want to know. He always came back to her, and she was convinced he’d settle down when the baby was born.





FORTY-THREE


    Emma


THURSDAY, APRIL 12, 2012

I feel stronger this morning. Better than I’ve felt for weeks. I don’t know why, but I reach for the phone and ring Jude to tell her.

“Hello, Jude,” I say.

“Oh, I am honored,” she says. “You sound good.”

She doesn’t.

“Is everything okay with you?” I say. I don’t really want to hear about her problems. I don’t want to lose my high.

“Yes, yes,” she says. “So, why are you so chirpy?”

“I just feel happy today,” I say. I don’t mean to, but I find myself going straight to the news that has lifted my mood.

“You know that baby I told you about, buried in Howard Street? It’s been identified as a little girl who went missing forty years ago,” I say. “Alice something . . .”

“Irving. Alice Irving,” Jude says. “Yes, I heard on the news. She went missing before we lived there.”

“Oh, do you remember the case? I couldn’t believe it when I heard it on the radio.” I’m sounding manic. I try a deep breath.

“Nor me. Unbelievable,” she says, but there’s no mania in her voice. No emotion at all.

“So it can’t have been the drug addicts,” I say.

“It looks unlikely,” she says. “It happened so long ago, I expect they will never find out the truth.”

“Oh no, the police have got new methods now, Jude. They’ve managed to match the DNA after all this time, haven’t they?”

“Well, so they say,” Jude says. “Why are you so pleased about it?”

“I’m not,” I say. “Just interested.” Jude clearly isn’t, as she changes the subject. To Will, naturally. She is obsessed all over again. And I feel my mood dip.

“I haven’t heard back from him,” she says. “Do you think I should ring him?”

“No.” It’s the wrong thing to say and Jude’s voice hardens.

“Well, I’m going to. I don’t know why I asked you, really. You only think of your own feelings. You have got a husband, a job, colleagues, friends. Who have I got? A daughter who I barely see. I need someone in my life. I’m lonely, Emma.”

It is a big admission from my mother and I try to be sympathetic.

“I’m sorry, Jude. I didn’t know you felt like that. I would ring you more often but we always seem to end up arguing. Don’t you see any old colleagues from work or friends?”

“They’re all busy with their own families—or dead. I’m getting to that age where it seems as if practically everyone I know is dying. I wonder when it will be my turn.”

“Why? Are you feeling ill?”

“No, just old today. But don’t you worry about me.”

And I feel a flicker of intense irritation. She is manipulating me. I know it, she knows it, but I can’t stop it happening.

“What about joining a club or evening class?” I say, desperately grasping for ways to draw her out of her gloom.

“Not interested,” Jude says. “Why would I want to do basket weaving or line dancing? I need someone to talk to and make me laugh. And take care of me.”

“But surely there is someone better than Will Burnside.”

“There isn’t. I’ve looked,” she says. “And Will was the love of my life. You know that. Anyway, you haven’t done any better.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Well, marrying someone old enough to be your father—what a cliché.”

I don’t rise to it. I hunker down to absorb the blows. And that makes it worse. Jude has always hated my silences. She’s got the bit between her teeth now, dragging up all her past hurts and accusations. “You’ll end up as his carer,” she shrieks at one point. And I realize we’ll never get past her disappointment in me.

“Look, I’ve got to go, Jude. Sorry I’ve upset you again. I’ll call you again soon.”

I let the line go dead before I put the phone down.





FORTY-FOUR


    Jude


THURSDAY, APRIL 12, 2012

She sat looking at the phone for a minute, finishing her last rant in her head.

“I should never have had you,” she said. “You’ve been trouble from the start.”

It had all begun to go wrong when Charlie came home from the tour. She’d stood at the door with Emma in her arms to greet him.