Her voice quavered, she dabbed at her eyes with a lace handkerchief. Hannah gave her a minute to compose herself.
‘And then you met Francis.’
Vanessa sat up in her chair and Hannah saw the glimmer of a fond smile. ‘A man who loved me for myself. I’ve always been self-conscious about this mark on my face, but it meant nothing to him, he saw the real woman underneath. I gave him everything I could. But … he wanted a family and I was afraid he might …’
‘Tell us about the surrogacy.’
‘After I got to know Emma, she told me Alex had suggested adopting a child. Their relationship was falling apart at the time and Emma refused point blank. Said she’d rather have a nice new car than children. I won’t speak ill of the dead, but Emma wasn’t really a giving person. There was no maternal streak. I mentioned it to Francis, because it was so ironic. Presumably Emma would have no difficulty bearing a child, but she couldn’t care less. To us it meant everything, and yet we were thwarted at every turn. We talked about fostering, about adoption, but the agencies put up so many hurdles and, besides, what we wanted was a baby that was ours. And then we started wondering — what if we paid Emma to produce a child for us? Nobody else need ever know.’
‘But Jeremy knew you couldn’t conceive.’
Vanessa’s eyes narrowed and Hannah understood the depth of her contempt for the man who had deserted her. ‘I knew him well enough to be sure he’d be thrilled to believe I’d found some miracle cure for infertility. It would make him feel less guilty about betraying me.’
‘Did it matter that Emma was Karen’s sister?’
‘Karen stole my first husband by giving him a baby,’ Vanessa said. She seemed to measure each word, as if unsure how candid to be. ‘How could I not relish the prospect of her sister giving my second marriage the one thing it lacked?’
‘And Emma was up for it?’
‘Everything went like a dream. She asked for money, lots of it, but that didn’t bother us, as long as she did what we wanted. Francis doted on her during the pregnancy, no mother-to-be has ever had such wonderful care. And she presented us with this beautiful baby boy.’ Vanessa’s voice shook. ‘Our son Christopher, a gift from God.’
‘Why did she change her mind?’
Vanessa closed her eyes, like a child reciting a poem learned by rote. ‘We kept our side of the bargain, we could never understand why Emma broke her word to us. She’d promised faithfully, she’d sworn to us, that she would never make any claim on the baby. We’d paid her enough to buy that nice new car as well as putting down a deposit on her new house. And then she took it upon herself to decide that motherhood might be what she really yearned for, after all. She’d never found a job to satisfy her long term, why pretend that looking after a squealing infant might be any more appealing? It made no sense. But we couldn’t reason with her.’
‘Did she threaten you?’
‘She said she’d go public, she didn’t care if she was prosecuted, as long as she had her son back. We could have regular access — can you imagine? Our own son, the son we adored!’ A bitten-off laugh. ‘She offered to pay back the money in instalments, but that was scarcely relevant. She never gave a toss about hurting Francis or me. Let alone the child. Imagine how confusing it would have been for the little mite, to have two women claiming to be his mother. I couldn’t bear the thought.’
Vanessa was shaking in her chair. The birthmark seemed more livid than ever.
‘The selfish, selfish, bitch!’
As Vanessa dissolved into tears, Hannah called the interview to a halt and gave her time to compose herself. There must be no suggestion of improper pressure. But after twenty minutes and a cup of strong sweet tea, Vanessa insisted she was ready to resume. She kept repeating that she wanted to help. This was an utter nightmare, but she needed to do the right thing.
‘Guy Koenig,’ Hannah prompted when they were back in the room. ‘We checked the records. You met him when he was inside.’
‘Guy was my greatest success.’ Hannah didn’t think she’d ever seen a smile so bleak, so bereft of merriment. ‘I have this passion for reaching out to people who never had a chance to experience the magic of literature. The government provided a pot of money to support reader development work with prisoners. I love working in partnership with librarians in prisons, mental hospitals, residential care homes. Making a difference to people’s lives.’
Hannah could imagine Les Bryant’s scepticism. Yeah, that Guy Koenig certainly made a difference to people’s lives.
‘Guy was a member of my very first group. He took to Victorian literature like a duck to water. Gaskell, Hardy, you name it. Charles Dickens, his favourite. Guy was a charmer, I saw that with a bit of luck he could make something worthwhile of his life. I became very fond of him, we talked a lot. But prisons have rules. You’re not supposed to get too close.’
‘You came across him a second time, we discovered.’
Vanessa sighed. ‘In another prison reading group, eighteen months later. He’d been convicted again. A minor offence of deception, but his record was bad and the courts don’t understand why most sentences are better served in the community. Guy wanted to go straight, I was sure of it. But he was weak, impatient, that was his downfall. He could never resist the temptation to pretend, he used to say it was because he didn’t have a clue who he really was. His mother was on the game, he never knew his father. I tried to explain, it doesn’t matter where you come from, what counts is where you’re going to. With his gift for persuasion, he could have become a salesman or a spin doctor.’
Sounds like he had you eating out of his palm. ‘He was released for the last time a few weeks before Emma disappeared. You remained in touch?’
‘Of course it was against the rules, but I wanted him to make something of his life.’ For the first time, a hint of colour came to her disfigured face. ‘I’d told him, along with everyone else, all about my pregnancy. He was thrilled for me, he even bought a little gift for the baby.’
‘Your supposed pregnancy,’ Hannah said gently.
‘Yes.’ Vanessa swallowed. ‘When he realised I was stressed out, he thought I was suffering from post-natal depression. I was very low and he was very kind. We met for coffee in the village once or twice. It was all open and above board, please don’t misunderstand. Francis knew all about our little get-togethers, there was never anything between Guy and me of that sort. But one afternoon, I started to weep and, before I knew what I was doing, I was telling Guy about the disaster that had befallen us. About Emma and how she wanted Christopher for herself. He was appalled by her behaviour, of course.’
As Vanessa examined her short, neat nails, Hannah glanced at Linz Waller, who arched her elegant eyebrows. If you were going to confide your darkest secret, a flaky drifter wasn’t the wisest choice of confidant. But then, who didn’t make mistakes?
For some reason, Hannah found herself thinking about Marc and, in a confused way, about Daniel Kind. Oh God. This would never do. Must concentrate on Vanessa’s tale of woe.
‘Did you ask him to help?’ Linz murmured.
Vanessa shook her head. ‘He volunteered to have a word with her. Of course, I was bowled over by his kindness. I promised to help him financially, but he said he simply wanted to repay me for all my generosity. He wasn’t interested in my money.’
Hannah suppressed a groan. I bet.
‘Of course, I brushed that aside. I was willing to give him anything, if only he could make Emma see sense. If she didn’t have enough put by, we could sort that out somehow. Francis and I aren’t rich, but we’re comfortable, thanks to family inheritance. It would be better if she left the Lakes for good, so I told Guy that we’d make it worth her while if she promised never to contact us again. This was for Christopher’s sake, you understand. What she was proposing was wicked. He was my child, not hers. We’d reached an agreement.’