The Family Next Door(64)

You’re not crazy, Essie. Was that what Isabelle had said to her? Essie had to admit, the idea that she wasn’t crazy was appealing, if she didn’t think too much about what it meant. That her mother wasn’t her mother.

Her mum and Mia were due here any moment. Essie imagined having this conversation with her: Okay, Mum, this is going to sound weird, but I’m not sure you are actually my mum. Would it be okay if you got a DNA test to confirm that we are related?

Essie knew exactly how her mum would react. She would blink a few times, and then her head would retreat a few inches, giving her a frightening number of chins. Finally, she’d agree. She’d be baffled, of course, but she wasn’t the obtuse type. If Essie wanted a DNA test, her mum would take one. It was possible she wouldn’t even ask why.

She’d been coming around to the idea of having a sister. She didn’t believe Isabelle’s assertion that her mother had kidnapped her, of course, not for one minute. If she did happen to be Isabelle’s sister, there would have to be another explanation. After all, Essie was thirty-two years old. In the old days hospital systems weren’t like they were now. It would have been easy to mix two babies up. Didn’t it happen all the time? But while the idea of being related to Isabelle appealed, Essie wasn’t sure she could handle the idea of not being related to her mum.

She sighed and sat back in her chair. She glanced at the clock on the wall. It was later than she thought. Her mum should have been here with Mia over an hour ago.

Where were they?





48


ISABELLE


As Isabelle walked inside, she was still thinking about Barbara. She’d reacted so strangely. Not like she’d been caught in the act. More like she’d just found out something she didn’t know. But how was that possible? Isabelle had pictured confronting the person who’d taken her sister a million times over the years, and never once had it involved a startled, confused-looking middle-aged woman shooing her granddaughter into the car.

Isabelle got down a glass from the cupboard, turning the whole thing over in her mind. She shouldn’t have let Barbara take Mia while she was in that state. For all she knew, Barbara wasn’t fit to drive. Isabelle thought about calling Essie, but she doubted she’d answer. She’d just decided to call Ben when she saw him through the window, walking down her path.

Isabelle made it to her front door at the same time as Ben.

“Ben,” she said, throwing open the door. He looked spent. He was in his shorts and tank top and was sweaty, like everyone else. He looked like he’d been through the mill. Polly was in his arms. “Hello.”

“Have you seen Barbara?” he said. “Or Mia?”

“Yes. I saw them this morning in your driveway. They were going to see Essie at the hospital.” The first flutters of panic started in Isabelle’s chest. “Why?”

“How long ago was that?”

“Uh, I guess … two hours? Three? Haven’t they—”

“Shit.” Ben turned and started walking back down the driveway without another word. Isabelle ran after him. The concrete was hot under her bare feet. “What’s happened?”

“I can’t find her and she’s not answering her phone. Essie’s worried she’s had a car accident but I’ve traced the way to the hospital and there’s no sign of any accidents. I’ll have to start calling hospitals.” Ben was walking purposefully down the path and Isabelle was on his heels. But hearing this, she fell back.

“This is all my fault.”

Ben stopped short. “What do you mean, all your fault?” He half turned, both curious and impatient. He clutched Polly around her waist so that she dangled rather than rested on his hip. She gave an irritated squeak.

“I … may have upset Barbara when I saw her earlier,” Isabelle said.

“Upset her how?” Isabelle could see from Ben’s expression that Essie hadn’t told him anything.

“I need to see Essie,” she said.

“Isabelle, if you know something, can you please just spit it out? Barbara never does anything like this and I am worried.”

“I just…”

Ben stared at her. He was usually so patient, so easygoing, but he looked like he was about to throttle her. “What?”

“I’m sorry to tell you this, Ben, but … I think Barbara may have kidnapped Mia.”





49


ANGE


Lucas would be here any minute. Ange sat in the front room, trying to psyche herself up for it. He’d called an hour ago, saying he’d like to come to see the boys. The boys, he’d said; not her. After fourteen years of marriage, this was what they had been reduced to. This was what happened, she realized, when secrets came out. This was the reason she hadn’t wanted to tell, hadn’t wanted to know.

Lucas had been somber on the phone—almost reverent, as if he’d been calling to give his condolences after someone had died. The conversation had been stiff and awkward and had lasted a total of forty-seven seconds. Ange had wanted to make a joke, or tell him to stop and pick up some milk on his way over—do something that made them feel like them again. But then, they weren’t them anymore, were they?

Over the past few days she’d formulated a loose sort of plan. She would stay in the house; Lucas would find somewhere else to live. Heck, she might even help him find a place! Part of her liked the idea that she would be the bigger person for the sake of her sons, another part of her longed to stand on an upper floor and hurl Lucas’s belongings out of the window while screaming like a fishwife. She looked at the armchair opposite her, where Lucas normally sat. They’d bought these armchairs as a pair when they were newly married—the first items they’d actually purchased rather than inherited from their individual homes or from their parents. Ange remembered sitting in them in the store, side by side, talking about how one day they would sit in these chairs with a pair of toddlers in their laps—first their own kids, then their grandchildren. That was their future, she’d been so certain of it.