‘Claire,’ Clive called up, ‘do you want tea?’
She laughed to herself. What earthly use was tea?
She didn’t reply but instead went downstairs to the drinks cabinet. Poured herself a half-tumbler full of vodka.
Clive came in and saw. ‘Bit early, isn’t it?’
‘Does it matter?’ she said. ‘Does anything actually really matter anymore?’
Clive shrugged. His expression softened as he moved towards her but she held up her hand to stop him.
‘I’m sorry,’ Clive said. ‘How many more times? I messed up but I was just trying to see my daughter. Is that so very wrong?’
‘You should have stayed with them,’ Claire said.
‘I love you, I don’t love Felicity,’ he said.
‘Then why do you come running like a fucking poodle every time she whistles?’
‘I don’t,’ he said hotly.
‘When I had Sammy-’
‘Not that, not still that,’ he groaned. ‘It wasn’t her I was going to. It was Phoebe. She was eleven years old. I am her father.’
Claire drank, the heat of the alcohol searing through her belly, spreading into the back of her skull.
‘Don’t shut me out,’ he reached a hand towards her but she batted it away.
‘I’m pregnant,’ she said.
‘What?’ Shock slackened his face. ‘But… well…’ His eyes lit up, a half smile tugged at his lips. ‘That’s wonderful.’
How could he say that? Think that? ‘No,’ she said, ‘it really isn’t.’
His eyes moved to the glass in her hand. She drained it dry. Reached for the bottle, already feeling unsteady. When had she last eaten?
‘I can’t have it,’ she said.
‘Claire!’
‘I can’t. You want me to just substitute this baby for Sammy. No!’
‘You’re talking rubbish,’ he said, ‘that’s not what I meant at all. We wanted another baby, we talked about it-’
‘That was before,’ she poured another drink. Her mouth watered, a sour taste mixed with the astringent sting of the alcohol.
‘Please Claire,’ he said, ‘don’t decide yet, not like this. It’s a shock with everything else that’s… I love you,’ he said.
The silence that followed was deafening. ‘Did she love him? She honestly couldn’t tell any more, she was so angry with him, so confused.
‘I don’t want to lose you too,’ he said quietly.
‘You should have thought about that when you lied to me, lied to the-’
‘All right!’ he exploded. ‘I know. I fucked up. I made mistakes. Don’t you think I regret that every second of the day?’ He was shouting, he flung his arms wide, turned in a half circle and back. ‘I don’t want to be that man. The man who messes up. My first marriage was a disaster and I should have come down harder on Felicity, I know that now. I should have fought for custody but I thought we could come to some arrangement. Maybe I can’t change but I want you and I want Sammy back and I want this new baby. I am sick of feeling like this, feeling like I’ve let you down. But I will not spend the rest of my life being punished for it. Just like you should stop punishing yourself. You didn’t take Sammy. You’re not to blame.’
Claire felt as though he had kicked her.
‘Whoever did take him, whoever that person is, don’t let them take what we have left,’ he said, his eyes locked on her. ‘You don’t want this baby because you don’t feel you deserve it.’
Was that true? Claire gritted her teeth, determined not to break down. ‘And if I get rid of it?’
‘Honestly?’ he said. ‘I don’t know.’
Hot tears burned behind her eyes.
‘But I’m not going to play games anymore. Not with Felicity, not with you.’ He turned away. ‘I need some air.’ And he left.
She cried again, feeling utterly bewildered and alone. Then she lifted the glass to take another swig and felt a spasm in her guts and a rush of vomit up her throat and the back of her nose. She reached the kitchen sink just in time and clung there until she was empty and spent.
Claire was sitting in the lounge when Clive came back in.
He took off his jacket and looked directly across at her.
‘Do you think he’s still alive?’ she said.
‘I don’t know what I think,’ said Clive, ‘I have to believe he is. I have to hope.’
‘Because then it might come true?’ she said.
‘Something like that.’
‘If they come again, say they’ve found the body?’ her voice shook.
‘I hope they won’t, that’s all there is.’
She looked out of the window where it had begun to rain, thin drops scattered across the glass by the wind.
‘Tea?’ he said
She tried to smile, almost succeeded. ‘Thanks. That’d be nice.’ And she closed her eyes and listened to the pattering of the rain.
Chapter 20
Ken Stafford was fuming, Janine didn’t blame him but she had to present a united front. ‘Why on earth are we here?’ the man said bitterly, a half snarl on his face, ‘this is a bloody outrage.’
‘There’s a very good reason we’re here,’ Janine said calmly, ‘we are conducting two very serious investigations. A child murder inquiry and a search for a missing child and when my officers spoke to you, Luke,’ she looked the boy in the eyes and he glanced away, ‘you failed to mention your connection to Phoebe Wray and you also failed to mention the fact that you and Phoebe spent time together on the day you were being asked about. Why was that?’
‘They just asked me where I was,’ Luke said defensively.
‘Didn’t you realise it might be significant, or that withholding such information might impede our inquiries and waste time?’
Luke shrugged, a blush crept up his neck, glowed in his cheeks.
‘Luke, think carefully before you answer me now, do you know anything about the abduction of Sammy Wray?’
‘No,’ he said.
‘Did you and Phoebe leave your house together that afternoon?’
‘No.’
‘What time did Phoebe arrive?’ Janine said.
‘About half-one.’
‘And what time did she leave?’
‘Four.’
‘You didn’t see Phoebe?’ Janine checked with Mr Stafford.
‘No, I was asleep, I work nights,’ he said as though tired of repeating it.
‘Did Phoebe say anything to you that day about Sammy?’ she said to Luke.
‘No… oh,’ he caught himself, ‘yes, she said she wished it wasn’t all such a mess, that people could just get on. That maybe it would be cool having a little brother.’ Janine thought of Tom and his fears about Pete and Tina’s baby.
‘And why did you not tell us about Phoebe being with you?’
‘It’s her mum,’ he said, ‘she’s got it in for me.’
‘She doesn’t approve of your friendship?’
‘No, she thinks Phoebe’s too good for me,’ he said.
‘Is it more than a friendship, Luke?’
‘What’s that got to do with anything?’ Ken Stafford broke in.
Janine ignored him. ‘Luke?’
‘We’re just mates,’ he said.
‘An item was recovered from Phoebe Wray’s possession.’ Janine showed him the book. ‘Is this yours?’
He swallowed. Paused. Don’t deny it, thought Janine, it’s got your name in, for God’s sake.
‘Yeah. It’s just a book,’ he said quickly.
‘You were interested in it?’
‘Yes. That’s not a crime is it?’ A flash of anger there and Janine wondered for a second exactly what Luke was capable of.