My Husband's Son: A dark and gripping psychological thriller (27 page)

The fire door at the bottom of the stairs opened onto a thin strip of grass. We seemed to have come out somewhere around the side of the hotel. My first instinct was to find my car and drive us both as far away from here as quickly as possible. But I’d parked directly in front of the hotel, in clear view of reception. That meant, in order to get anywhere near it, we’d have to go to the exact spot where Tommy was probably looking for us right now.

I considered going for it anyway. If he caught us before we could get inside and lock the doors, I could always scream to a passer-by for help. But no. There was too much at stake. Tommy wouldn’t think twice about dragging Barney away from me in broad daylight, no matter who was around to see it. I needed to find us another escape route, another way to safety.

A low wall bordered the strip of grass we stood on. Next to it was a pavement and then a dual carriageway. In the distance, on the opposite side of the road, I could see the metal and glass peaks of Eldon Square, a list of the shops it contained emblazoned on the side in cursive script. A shopping mall. It would have crowds. We could lose ourselves there.

I looked at Barney. Lauren’s compass in hand, he was waving it around in the air, watching the needle change direction. I realised he was shivering. Our coats were back in the hotel room.

I pointed to the dual carriageway.

‘The toy shop is over the other side of that road,’ I said, slipping my hand around his wrist. ‘But there’s a lot of traffic, so you need to be fast and you need to keep hold of me, OK?’

He screwed up his face, about to complain, but then he took in the speed of the cars zipping past and seemed to think better of it.

Checking left and right for any sign of Tommy, I tightened my grip and bolted for the pavement. The ground was rough beneath my feet, the grit shredding my tights and then my skin. As we cleared the low wall, my breathing quickened, the cold air searing my lungs.

We reached the dual carriageway and lurched to a halt. Cars, vans and trucks raced in opposite directions. We needed to wait for a break in the traffic, but standing here on the pavement would leave us too exposed. I looked back at the hotel. We had to get out of sight before Tommy thought to search the perimeter. There was no time. We had to make a run for it.

Pulling Barney close, I took a breath and launched us into the road. There was a screech of brakes. I heard Barney cry out, but still I kept running, my hand locked around his wrist.

Reaching the pavement on the other side, I continued to urge him forward, in the direction of the mall’s metallic gleam. We needed to get to safety; we needed to get to where they couldn’t find us. Weaving our way through the low shrubs that divided the pavement from the narrow feeder lane that guided cars into the multi-storey, before long we hit the pathway that led into the shopping centre. It was sheltered on both sides by steep grass verges. I slowed our pace to a walk.

‘Let go,’ said Barney, shaking me off. Nursing his wrist, he stopped and turned around, intending to go back the way we’d just come. ‘I want to see Tommy and Keith. I want my mum.’

‘We’ll go back in a bit,’ I said, blocking his progress. ‘We have to get you that toy first, remember?’

‘I don’t care about the toy.’ He looked at the dual carriageway. He seemed to be working out whether he could make it back across without me.

‘You haven’t even seen what they’ve got in the shop,’ I said. ‘There might be something you want.’

‘Please, take me back.’

‘Come on, let’s go inside, out of the cold.’

‘Take me back. Now.’ He held Lauren’s compass in the air and clicked the pull-fit catch. Its bevelled glass glinted in the sun.

‘Put the compass down,’ I said, slowly. ‘I’ll take you back later, I promise.’

‘I don’t believe you.’ Tipping his palm, he let the disc slip forward, out of his hand. I dived towards it, my hands cupped. But I wasn’t quick enough and, after landing on its clam edge, it bounced twice across the concrete before coming to a halt with a single, glass-shattering smash.

Looking at the mess of tiny screws and bolts on the floor, I crawled over to the two circles of silver and picked them up. Cradling them in my hands, I let out a sound that was part howl part scream. I clutched the broken bits of compass to my chest. Barney came closer, trying to peer at the mangled mess. I caught his eye, and, thinking I was going to admonish him, he went to retreat. Not before I could reach out and squash him to me. Letting the scraps of compass fall away, I held him tight, so very, very tight, the miniature springs and coils scattered at our feet. This boy, this beautiful, precious lost boy, found at last. After a little while he took my hand and, helping me up to standing, he guided me forward, towards the mall’s sliding glass doors and the warmth within.

Inside, Christmas lights blared overhead and tinny carols blurted from the mall’s sound system. We drifted with the crowds, forward, to Santa’s Grotto in the central atrium. Made out of glittering white and blue fibreglass, it was designed to look like a giant sleigh chock-full of presents, and had a battalion of huge, silver reindeer out front. Taking a seat on one of the benches that lined the surrounding walls, I looked through my bag until I found my mobile and called Jason.

As his phone began to ring I looked at the queue for Santa’s Grotto. It stretched almost all the way back to the other end of the shopping centre. Balloon blowers and magicians were working their way up and down the crowd, trying to pacify the waiting kids.

I watched as a clown approached a small boy in the queue. Sitting on his father’s shoulders, he stared agog as the clown turned, twisted and tied a limp red balloon into a fantastic reindeer, complete with antlers. The clown presented the reindeer to the boy and he squealed with delight.

On the other end of the line I heard Jason’s phone click through to voicemail. Still focused on the kid with the balloon, I wondered if I should try calling Vicky instead. It meant she would get here first, but that was OK. Jason would soon follow.

The kid gave his reindeer balloon a kiss and then reached down to touch the reindeer to his dad’s cheek, miming another peck. The dad smiled and then, as though in some kind of a chain reaction, he turned round and gave his wife standing next to him a kiss on the mouth.

I looked at Barney, sitting by me on the bench, and imagined him sandwiched between Vicky and Jason. A complete family unit. I turned back to the family with the reindeer balloon. They were just strangers in the queue and there was no reason for them to acknowledge or include me in any way, but suddenly I felt left out, invisible. Absolutely, totally invisible.

The taxi pulled up outside Carla’s flat just before six. She’d said she would be away at the conference until tomorrow night and, as Tommy knew where I lived, I’d decided this was the next best place to keep Barney safe until I could get hold of Jason.

I’d spent all afternoon trying to get in touch. While we’d wandered around the shopping centre I’d dialled his number again and again. Jason had always said that, come the day his son was found, he hoped to be able to go to him straightaway. That he didn’t want their reunion to be mediated by the police or psychologists, authorities who would only give him access once they’d finished with all their tests and checks. And so it was for that reason – because I wanted him to have this time alone with Barney before everyone else got involved – that I continued to call him and not the police. But each time it kept ringing through to voicemail. I was sure he was ignoring me. That I was being punished for what I’d said, or what I’d almost said, this morning. Still, unwilling and unable to leave a message about something of such import, I kept trying. He couldn’t stay angry with me for ever.

Inside, Carla’s flat was cold and dark. I went through each room, turning on the lights and closing the curtains. Before long, Jasper, excited by the prospect of company, slinked his way around my legs, wanting to be fed.

Despite my best efforts to keep him distracted, Barney had become more and more nervy and withdrawn during the journey here. Now, as Jasper brushed past him, he cried out in fear.

I picked Jasper up and showed him to Barney.

‘Don’t be scared. Look. It was just the cat. He’s called Jasper. Say hello to Barney, Jasper,’ I said, nuzzling the cat’s neck.

He reached his hand forward, about to give him a stroke, but then he hesitated.

‘Who’s Barney? I’m called Mikey. My name is Mikey.’

‘I know another little boy called Barney. I must have got confused.’ I put the cat down and went over to the boiler to turn on the heating. As soon as I heard the pilot light flare, I turned back to him. ‘Hungry? Shall I make you a sandwich?’

But his cheeks were flushed and his bottom lip had started to quiver. He’d finally reached the end of his tether.

‘I want to go home, I want Jake and Kimberley,’ he said, looking at the floor. ‘I want my mum.’

‘And you will go home,’ I said, stroking his hair and tucking it behind his ear. ‘But first, I think you’d better eat something. Tommy won’t be happy if he discovers I haven’t looked after you properly.’

He didn’t say anything.

‘Will he?’

Reluctantly, he nodded.

‘Why don’t you go in the living room and I’ll bring you a sandwich. Do you like peanut butter and jam?’

‘Yes.’ He was about to go on his way but then he stopped. ‘I don’t like the crunchy type in my sandwich.’

‘Got it.’

I put the sandwich and a glass of orange juice on a tray, walked through to the living room and set them on the coffee-table. He looked at the sandwich and then me, as though he was trying to work out whether or not it was safe to eat, and then picked it up and finished it off in four large bites. He must have been starving. Had he asked for food and I just hadn’t heard? I berated myself for not thinking to get him something earlier.

He took a gulp of juice and wiped his mouth with his sleeve.

‘I want to go now,’ he said. ‘Please can you call Tommy?’

‘Not just yet.’

As I went to clear his tray he started to cry.

‘Please ask him to come and get me,’ he sniffed, ‘please.’

Putting down the tray, I tried to give him a cuddle, but he was too upset and he struggled in my arms. I didn’t give in and held him tight. After a while, I felt him go limp. I stroked his hair and face.

‘Where did you get that scar?’ I asked, tracing my finger over the white semicircle of raised skin on his cheek.

‘I fell off a wall,’ he said, his words juddery from the crying. ‘Mum said it was just a scratch.’ He stopped, proud. ‘She said I was brave.’

I continued to smooth back his hair, giving him time to calm down.

‘Have you always been called Mikey?’ I asked, curious to see if he remembered anything from his life before.

‘Please call Tommy,’ he said. ‘Sorry I broke your compass.’ He started to cry again. ‘Where are they? I want to see them.’

‘What about your first mummy and daddy, can you remember them?’ I persevered.

‘I don’t have a daddy. Please,’ he begged, ‘please call Tommy.’

I didn’t respond and, eventually, his heaving sobs fizzled out to a whimper. When I looked down I saw that he’d fallen asleep, his face smeared with snot and tears. It was past midnight. Taking care not to wake him, I arranged him on the sofa and covered him with one of the patchwork ethnic blankets from Carla’s bed. As soon as I’d tucked him in, Jasper jumped up and curled himself into a ball by his feet.

I looked at his sleeping face. He was peaceful for now, ignorant of the fact that the world he’d known and felt secure in for the last five years was about to be pulled from under him. What would that do to the child? How would he deal with being wrenched away from the woman he now knew and loved as his mother? It would be hard, but no doubt there would be therapists and psychologists Jason and Vicky could call on to help make Barney part of their family again. And anyway, if it meant him being back where he belonged, then all the distress and confusion would be worth it, wouldn’t it?

His lashes fluttered. There was a pause and then his eyelids began to twitch. He was dreaming. I watched his forehead pucker and smooth, the soft skin rippling into a frown.

I smiled. At long, long last, after all the searching, the child in my lap was Barney. And yet.

Jason had not been able to recognise him as his son. I remembered the day I had brought Jason to the off-licence to show the boy to him. His certainty had been absolute. Unwavering.

Now I realised what it was about this that surprised me the most. Not Jason’s mistake. His credulity had been stretched so often and for so long it had left him half blind. Very young children can change greatly in just a few years. Of course it was plausible for this boy to no longer resemble his three-year-old self.

No, what surprised me was Jason’s inability to even consider this loss of connection between a father and son as a possibility. It seemed that, in his grief and fear he had needed a certain idea of parenthood to cling onto. An idea that, even in his darkest days, could serve to reassure him he was still a dad. This idea had been a necessary part of his survival these five years, and he had held onto it at all costs. To doubt his ability to recognise his own child was not an admission he was ever able to make. It would have undermined the one thing that was keeping him going, the thing that let him face every day.

I sat there for hours, watching the child sleep.

When I reached for my phone, the sun was coming up, the birds chirruping outside.

I dialled and, after ringing a few times, it went through to voicemail. Determined to talk to him in person, I kept trying. Redialling, over and over until, eventually, he answered.

‘Please don’t hang up,’ I said as fast as I could.

‘What’s going on?’ he said. ‘Where are you?’

‘I was out of order yesterday. I made a mistake. But I’m going to put it all right.’ I paused. It felt like I was dangling from a precipice. ‘What I’m about to say is going to come as a bit of a shock and so you need to listen to me very carefully. OK?’

There was a pause and, for a moment, I thought he’d gone but then I heard him cough.

‘OK,’ he said, ‘but make it quick. I don’t have time for any more of your bullshit.’

I cleared my throat and took a breath, trying to formulate a sentence from the words jumbling around my head.

When I was done, I gave him Carla’s address.

‘Get here soon,’ I urged, ‘we’ll be waiting for you.’