The Babysitter(36)
In dreams of Daisy, it was always the same rural smell. Mark had no idea why the nightmares kept coming, robbing him of what sleep he might get in between Evie waking. It was because he had children, he supposed. Because he lived in fear of something too unbearable to comprehend happening to his baby girls, and that, despite having police resources at his fingertips, he would be powerless to save them.
Shaking himself, Mark looked around. Once a well-kept, thriving dairy farm, the place was now abandoned, the cow house and stables sadly bereft of inhabitants. He decided to start with the smaller of the two barns, frightening scrawny chickens who’d obviously escaped the poultry yard into a flutter of wings and piercing skirls as he walked. Once inside, he wondered why he’d come. Like the rest of the farmyard, it was empty, dusty and derelict. Original beams supported the roof; ropes and chains hung from a crossbeam. Nothing much else inside; nowhere to hide.
The smell though – damp, earthy and pungent, of mildew and soft hay – was so familiar. Mark sighed, despairing of himself. He was supposed to be dealing in facts, not wild flights of the imagination. He was triggering childhood memories, that was all. One in particular, where he’d been selected as one of the school’s deprived kids to go on some pony-trekking holiday. Turns out he hadn’t been much safer away from home. He’d heard him before he saw him, his old man, pissed, ranting incoherently in the small office situated next to the stables – Christ only knew how he’d driven there. He’d come to fetch him back. Mark hadn’t been about to go back though. Even as a kid, he’d known he wouldn’t make it. Not that time. He’d hid instead – spent half his life hiding. Deciding the hayloft was too obvious a place, he’d bolted for the stable block, curling himself into the corner of one of the stalls. The stench of leather and hay and horse manure had been overpowering. He’d been more terrified of his father finding him than the horse’s hooves, which had seemed pretty menacing to a ten-year-old-kid. He’d been lonely, too. The other kids’ cruel taunts had intensified after that. Forget it, he told himself. It was the past, dead and buried.
Consigning it to history, telling himself he needed to stop chasing shadows, Mark turned to walk back across the yard, pained by the sense of isolation the disused property evoked.
Twenty-Four
JADE
‘Don’t move.’ Jade whispered, her heart thrumming manically against her ribcage. Fear, and an undeniable frisson of sexual pleasure, surged through her as she watched Mark walk towards the barn. ‘He can’t find me.’ Turning imploring eyes towards Dylan, whose face was now set in a hard scowl, she pressed a finger to her lips and stole a glance at Evie.
Hell! Why had she come looking for Dylan when she hadn’t found him at the cottage? She’d already been pushed for time. She should have just left.
Please don’t wake up, Angel. Seeing Evie twitch in her sleep, her eyelids fluttering, as if she might wake at any second, Jade prayed hard. He couldn’t find her here. He absolutely couldn’t. Panic mounted in her chest. She could lie through her teeth, but nothing would excuse exposing his baby to danger. He’d never forgive her. She couldn’t risk that. There was also the risk that he wouldn’t leave it there. That drippy Dylan might drop her in it, even though she’d coached him and coached him. And then what? Mark was a detective. He might take Dylan to the station, question him. How long would it be before Dylan spilled his guts and told him where the little girl— Jade closed her eyes with relief, gulping hard, as she noticed the farmhouse door opening. Glancing over his shoulder, Mark turned towards it, and then stopped to fish his phone from his pocket.
Evie stirred as he spoke, as she naturally would on hearing the rich, deep timbre of her daddy’s voice. Quickly, Jade turned to gather her from the stroller. ‘Hush, little baby, don't say a word,’ she recited silently, rocking her gently. Then, grabbing her pacifier from the stroller tray and feeding it to her, she turned back to the barn door, hardly daring to breathe as she listened.
‘Oh Christ… You’re joking.’ She heard Mark’s shocked tone. ‘But why the hell would she think that?’
Jade waited as Mark listened to whoever was on the other end of the line.
‘But you told her the texts were only ever work-related?’ Mark went on, running a hand agitatedly through his hair.
Jade felt a thrill of excitement spiking inside her. Melissa had obviously got the hints she’d been dropping about Lisa’s persistent texting. And it was about time. Jade had been wondering whether she was going to have to paint the woman a bloody picture.
‘Apart from the one I sent while you were there. Right.’ Mark sighed despondently and stared up into the sky. ‘Okay, thanks, Lisa. No, not your fault. I’d better get back.’
Jade watched as Mark ended the call, studied the phone for a second, as if debating making another, and then walked towards Dylan’s mother, standing in the farmhouse door. Poor Mark. She could almost feel his hurt. She so wished he didn’t have to suffer all this. It was just so cruel. But then, she had to be cruel to be kind. There was no other way. They were two souls destined to be together. She would soothe away his troubles with sweet, tender kisses, take his seed inside her, gladly give birth to his babies. He would thank her, eventually, for opening his eyes.