She needed to get to her son, to pick him up and never put him down again. Without another word, she ran towards the corner of the car park where a crowd had gathered.
‘Noah! Give him to me.’ She held her arms out for her baby boy, practically snatching him away from the police officer who was cradling him to his chest.
‘Mrs Whitney, is there someone we can call for you, someone who can come and sit with you while we try and clear up what’s gone on here? We need to decide if Noah needs any medical attention, and if, um, if you’re okay to …’
They needed to know if she was crazy. Hell, she needed to know if she was crazy. Right at that moment, all eyes on her, she thought she might very well be. For the first time, with Noah safe in her arms, she noticed the individual faces of the teachers who looked after her son on a daily basis, people she saw every day, laughed with on sports day and parents’ evening. They were regarding her with fear and suspicion.
Her first thought was Adam. He was her husband and Noah’s father, but she just couldn’t face the phone call to tell him she’d fucked up again. She wanted things to be back the way they’d been when he chose her to be a mother to his precious son. When she was solid and dependable. When she wasn’t crazy.
‘Karen,’ she said, pulling her phone from her pocket. ‘Karen Browning, please.’
33
Karen
Karen pulled into the car park of Toby’s school, the same school that she, Eleanor and Bea had attended what seemed like a lifetime ago. A police car was parked haphazardly near the front doors, but apart from that there was no sign that anything untoward had happened. Karen looked around for Eleanor’s car, but it wasn’t in sight.
‘Karen!’
As she walked into the reception, Eleanor threw herself towards her friend, baby Noah in her arms. She looked smaller than Karen had ever seen her look, her face red and puffy, streaked with tears. She folded them both into her arms, ignoring the police officers who were sitting on the visitors’ chairs.
‘What’s happened, hun?’ she asked into Eleanor’s hair. She held her at arm’s length to look at her properly. She looked terrible, her clothes crumpled and not entirely clean, dark purple circles under her eyes.
‘Someone stole my car with Noah inside! I mean, they moved it.’ She dropped her head and fell silent. ‘I don’t really know what I mean, but I think I’m in trouble.’
Karen looked over at the police officer who had stood to greet her, a middle-aged woman whose dull brown hair was pulled into a stern ponytail, though her face looked kind enough.
‘What’s happened here? Have you found out who took my friend’s car?’
The woman shot a look at her companion, a young male totally unequipped for dealing with hysterical females.
‘Mrs Browning?’
‘Dr Browning.’
‘Of course, I’m sorry. Could we maybe talk outside?’
Karen glanced back at Eleanor. ‘Will you be okay? I’ll find out what’s going on and take care of this.’
Eleanor looked reluctant to let her go now that she had a friendly face in the room, and Karen wasn’t surprised. Someone had stolen her car with her son inside! Why were they treating her like the criminal? She touched her friend’s arm reassuringly before following the female officer outside.
‘Dr Browning, I gather you are Mrs Whitney’s psychiatrist?’
‘I’m a psychiatrist, I’m not Eleanor’s psychiatrist. Eleanor doesn’t need therapy; she needs a good night’s sleep.’
‘Okay, well we’re trying to determine if Eleanor is all right to take her son home.’
‘She’s just shocked. Wouldn’t you be if you’d had your car stolen with your son inside?’
‘That’s just it, Dr Browning, Eleanor’s car wasn’t stolen. It was found in the car park, where she left it. Just around the corner from where she was looking.’
That was when it dawned on Karen the seriousness of the situation Eleanor was in. Not only had she left her son in the car where she couldn’t possibly see him from the doors of the school, but she’d then forgotten where she’d parked the car and sparked a manhunt for Noah and an imaginary car thief.
‘Okay, so she forgot where she’d left her car and panicked; that could happen to anyone. Especially anyone with a three-month-old baby. And perhaps she shouldn’t have left Noah, but if she hadn’t forgotten where she’d parked the car, she wouldn’t have been out of sight