a few seconds to listen to the wildlife going about its business. A distant fox is screaming; birds are singing in a desperate pre-dawn chorus. I’m the only human being around.
I turn onto William Morris Terrace and quickly assess the situation. To my relief, there’s no sign of Amber and George’s car. A quick shimmy through the open gate takes me to the front door of number 74.
Pulling the necklace over my head, I insert the key. It turns sweetly in the lock. Now to open the door without making a noise. Gently does it …
I’m in.
I push the door to, but don’t shut it. Checking that all is quiet above, I start to tiptoe up the stairs, stepping over the third and seventh treads to avoid the creaks. The landing light has been left on and the door to Mabel’s room is ajar. Holding my breath, I push it open ever so slowly, willing the hinges not to squeak.
The night light glows pink and purple, illuminating the room enough for me to see my way to the cot. Mabel is lying on her back, her beautiful face still in repose. I lean over the bars and study her for a few moments, allowing my pupils to dilate. She is breathing lightly, her eyelids flickering as she dreams. I lean across and turn off the baby monitor.
This is going to be the trickiest part. I have to pick her up in a single action and carry her downstairs without waking her. Quick but not hasty, quiet but not cautious. Even if the babysitter hears something, it will take her a while to realise what’s going on. I can do this.
I unzip my jacket, revealing the baby sling I put on earlier. Then, tucking my hands beneath Mabel’s body, I lift her and lay her against my chest. She shifts and murmurs, so I don’t attempt to put her into the sling, but wrap my arms around her instead and leave the room. I descend the stairs, one hand on the rail, the other under Mabel’s bottom. Reaching the hallway, I squeeze past the buggy and open the door, dead leaves crackling beneath my feet as I step out. I pull the door shut and the letter box clangs. My heart stops beating for a second – was it loud enough to wake the babysitter? I can’t hang around to find out.
I look about furtively, but there’s still nobody to see me. Pulling my jacket over Mabel, I walk briskly away, turning the corner and heading towards the side street where I left the car. I can hardly catch my breath. Mabel, who was so still at first, starts to fidget. I think she’s waking up.
‘It’s okay, my darling,’ I whisper. ‘Sorry if it’s a little bit cold out here, but you’ll soon be inside where it’s safe and cosy.’ She makes a small snuffling sound. ‘Shush, little one.’ I rub her back soothingly. ‘Keep quiet a few minutes longer. You can scream all you like once we’re on the road.’
I quicken my pace. She becomes heavier with every step and my arms ache. I feel so buzzy and excited, I could drop her, but I won’t, of course. She’ll come to no harm with me. I’ll look after her better than Amber, better than any babysitter. I’ll hold onto her with my dying breath.
We reach the car. I open the rear passenger door and place Mabel in her special seat. She squirms and growls as I fiddle about with the straps. Can’t afford to stay here too long. Got to get moving.
I’ve already worked out my route using a cycling app that takes back roads as much as possible to avoid dangerous traffic. It’s the cameras I want to avoid. I whack the car heater up and it seems to lull Mabel back to sleep. We have approximately two hours until sunrise, when the light will expose us.
Progress is slow. There are speed bumps and mini roundabouts to navigate. As we journey west across London, more cars start to appear: workers coming home from the night shift, early starters, delivery vans. Soon joggers and dog-walkers will spill out of their houses and it’ll no longer be safe to be in the back streets.
I glance at the milometer. I’ve only gone a few miles. I need to speed up and put as much distance as possible between us and Waltham Green. I should be far enough away to start using A