roads now, but I’m going to steer well clear of the motorway. I don’t want to stop at a service station. The car is full of petrol; I’ve a bottle of water and a packet of sweets if I need a sugar rush. As long as Mabel stays asleep, we’ll be okay. Once we hit the countryside, I can pull over in a lay-by if necessary – change her nappy, give her a feed.
I feel amazing. I can’t remember the last time I felt so alive and in control. I look into the rear mirror and smile at my darling baby girl, safely strapped into her car seat, dreaming the miles away. My Mabel.
Chapter Thirteen
Day One Without Mabel
Ruby emerges from a long sleep, groggy and heavy-limbed. The bedside clock tells her it’s after 9 a.m. This is normal for her, but Mabel never sleeps this late. Is she okay? Ruby listens. There are no sounds of gurgling or whimpering or even breathing coming via the baby monitor – just dead silence. That’s not right. A horrible sick feeling floods her stomach.
In an instant, brain and feet connect. She leaps out of bed and runs down the stairs, calling, ‘Mabel! Mabel!’ as she rushes into the nursery.
The cot is empty.
‘Nooo … no …’ Her pulse starts to race uncontrollably. This cannot be. It cannot be. She stares and stares at the empty mattress as if by looking harder Mabel will magically appear. Her brain can’t compute what her eyes are seeing. She’s a baby. She can’t get out of the cot by herself. Somebody must have picked her up.
Amber. Of course. She must have come home early. Maybe the yoga retreat didn’t work out.
‘Amber? Amber!’ Ruby leaves the nursery and goes into the sitting room, expecting to find her sister lying on the sofa, dozing with Mabel in her arms. But they’re not there. ‘Amber? Where are you?’ She runs out and walks down the corridor to the kitchen-diner at the back of the flat. It’s empty. The air is stale and chilly. She looks for signs of Amber’s presence – her coat, bag, car keys, a cereal bowl or coffee mug – but everything’s exactly the same as she left it last night. Her dirty supper plate is still soaking in the sink. The kettle feels stone cold.
Troubled and slightly irritated, she turns around and retraces her steps towards the only place left to try. Her ears strain for bath-time giggles or nappy-changing protests, but there’s nothing to hear. Hoping against hope, she opens the bathroom door. The emptiness stares back at her.
Amber must have taken Mabel out for a walk. Yes, that’s it. She came back very early, fed and changed her, then took her out for some fresh air. That’s fine, she has a perfect right to do that, but why the hell didn’t she leave a note? Didn’t she realise it would make Ruby panic to find Mabel gone?
She runs back upstairs to the top floor and grabs her phone from the bedside table. The call immediately goes to voicemail. She tries to soften her tone as she leaves a message. ‘Hi, Rubes here. Where are you? Call as soon as you can, eh?’
What is Amber playing at? She starts to feel angry with her for being so inconsiderate. She’s tried so hard to help her, and this isn’t fair.
They must be in the park, watching the ducks or having a coffee in the café. Ruby swings open the roof window, standing on tiptoe to peer out, but all she can see are the tops of trees swaying in the wind. Dressing hurriedly, she runs back to the first floor and looks out of the sitting room window instead. There’s no sign of Amber’s car, which surprises her. Maybe she couldn’t find a space and had to park around the corner?
Okay, she thinks, if Amber hasn’t got the decency to call her back, she’ll have to go and find her. Give her a piece of her mind. She throws on her coat and puts on her boots, not bothering to tie the laces. She picks up the door key from the kitchen counter and is on her way down to the ground floor when she halts, suddenly caught off balance by the sight of Mabel’s buggy in the hallway.
Amber always takes the buggy. She hates wearing that backpack thing George uses, claiming it’s too uncomfortable. What’s going on?
Ruby squeezes past the empty buggy and opens the front