The Secret Child (DI Amy Winter #2)(49)

‘Really?’ Luka said, clinging to the towels and absorbing their warmth. ‘I can speak to Papa? And Mama too?’

Deborah nodded, but her features carried concern. ‘There’s something I need to tell you. Your mama . . . she’s not very well. She’s been prescribed medication but . . . well, she shouldn’t be too stressed. So if you have any worries, come to me. Think of me as your second mother. Yes?’

Luka nodded.

‘Now, let’s get you into some warm clothes so you can have a bite to eat. We’ll skip your medication tonight. Nobody needs to know.’





CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

Toby wasn’t sure how long the little girl had been there. He had slept facing the wall, feeling her gaze, before he discovered her perched on the end of the bed. Daddy always said he sensed things better than other people, as if he had developed a superhero power to make up for the bodily functions he had lost. This morning he had felt that something wasn’t right. Everything seemed off, somehow. School had been fine up until the time the fire alarm was activated. Toby’s classmates had bumped into his wheelchair, scrambling out of the classroom for a few extra minutes of fresh air. Then the taxi had turned up, along with the driver with the funny hair and a cap that made him look shifty from the off. I mean, who wears a cap when they’re driving? It’s not as if it’s going to rain inside the car. These were the thoughts that had occupied Toby’s mind as he sat in the back of the cab. But Miss Pringle, his teacher, had not seemed worried, and Toby had remembered his father’s words.

‘Trust me,’ he’d said that morning when Toby asked to take the bus to school. ‘The taxi is here to keep you safe.’ Toby trusted his daddy more than anyone in the world. But today his daddy had been wrong.

Shuffling on his elbows, Toby bore the discomfort as he worked his body into a sitting position. He had not wanted to fall asleep, but a long day at school followed by Xbox games and pizza had made his eyelids feel like two lead shutters he could not keep open. As sleep called, he had clung to the hope that his father would be there when he awoke. But instead, a blonde-haired girl with a piece of tissue paper stuck up her nose sat on the bed.

‘Who are you?’ Toby said eventually, straightening himself up. He had fallen asleep in his wheelchair but had a vague recollection of someone removing his shoes and lifting him into bed.

‘I’m Ellen,’ the little girl said, scooting towards him. There was no suspicion in her gaze, only an intense curiosity, which, given the circumstances, seemed odd. She pushed her spectacles up the bridge of her nose, the thick glass making her eyes seem as big as moons. ‘What’s your name?’

‘I’m Toby.’ He rubbed his face. How long had he been napping for? He gazed around the room, noting the absence of clocks on the wall. It could not have been any more than an hour or two.

‘Have you come to take me home?’ Ellen said, her lips parting as she breathed in through her mouth.

Toby stared at her, a flash of incredulity on his face. ‘How would I take you home? I’m six! Haven’t you seen my wheelchair?’ He pointed at the chair next to the bed.

Ellen stared at it, her tongue finding the gap between her teeth as she tilted her head.

‘Haven’t you seen a wheelchair before?’ he asked.

Ellen replied with a shake of the head.

Toby sighed. ‘I have it ’cos I can’t walk. Not very far, anyway.’ He looked her over. Her grey tracksuit was just like his, except hers was stained with chocolate and some kind of purple drink. ‘Why have you got toilet paper up your nose?’

‘Nosebleeds.’ Ellen pulled at the offending plug of tissue, inspected it, then, happy the blood had dried, threw it on the floor. In Toby’s house, throwing rubbish on the ground would earn you a telling-off. But was this Ellen’s house, or had she been brought here too?

‘Where are we?’ He lowered his voice, pulling himself to the edge of the bed. ‘Where do you live?’ He badly needed to pee but wanted to know what was going on. Apart from the guy who’d brought him here, he’d had the room to himself. So why was Ellen here now?

She shrugged in response to both questions, her eyes growing wide. ‘The man brought me here. I don’t like him. I want my mummy.’ She plugged her thumb in her mouth, gave it two sucks and added, ‘I want to go home.’

Toby wanted to go home too. Back to his daddy and Jodie. What were they doing now? Had they remembered to feed Thor? His hamster had been a birthday present. They weren’t meant to have pets in their block of flats, but Daddy knew the landlord and he said he’d allow it, given it was for Toby. But when Thor had arrived, Toby felt sad because none of the other boys and girls in their block would know how nice it felt to have a pet of their own. Miss Pringle said everybody deserved kindness, not just one or two people. It felt wrong that he was allowed a hamster and they weren’t. And now he was the one feeling like a hamster in a cage.

Taking two tentative, wobbly steps, he lowered himself into his wheelchair. The room was big enough to squeeze past the sofa and the single bed. A bunch of games were piled up in the corner and a box of Lego had been upended on the floor. He returned his glance to Ellen. He probably had her to thank for that. After manoeuvring his wheelchair around the mess, he used the toilet and washed his hands.

There was no way his daddy would leave him somewhere like this. He had tried the door earlier; he knew he was locked in. What would his favourite superheroes do? Should he look for a weapon? Defend himself? Hide? He knew that bad things often happened to kids who were taken by strange men. They’d had talks about stranger danger at school. So why had Miss Pringle allowed him to get in the taxi? He scratched his head, feeling all in a muddle. His stomach was twisted up in knots and his chest hurt from swallowing back his tears. He steered himself back into the room to find Ellen patiently waiting on the sofa. It was up to him to protect them both now.