‘I woke up and … and I thought … I was sure … I thought you had her.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Mabel’s not … she’s not in her cot. She’s gone.’ Ruby hears a sharp intake of breath, followed by a scream. ‘I have to go, have to call the police.’
‘Ruby—’
‘Come home, Amber. Come home now!’
This can’t be happening, Ruby thinks, it simply can’t be happening. There’s been a misunderstanding, a stupid, terrible mistake. Her finger stabs at the handset, her heart racing wildly as she waits for the operator to answer.
‘Police,’ she says, her voice shaky. ‘A missing child. She’s missing, somebody’s taken her. Please send somebody, please, I need somebody now.’
The operator asks her for her name and then keeps calling her by it, forcing her back into focus.
‘So, Ruby, the little girl who seems to have gone missing, do you have her full—’
‘Mabel Rosebud Walker. Please, I need help!’
‘How old is Mabel?’
‘Seven months. I told you, somebody’s taken her.’
‘Taken her from where?’
‘From her cot, from her home!’
A slight pause. ‘Are you Mabel’s mother?’
‘No, no, I’m her aunt. Her mother is Amber, my sister.’
‘And Mabel’s father?’
‘George. George Walker.’
‘Does he live with the family?’
‘Yes!’ Ruby snaps. ‘But he’s at a conference and my sister’s away. I’m babysitting.’
‘Is there anyone else who might have taken her? A grandparent? Friend? Neighbour?’
‘No! They wouldn’t do that. I put her in her cot last night and now she’s gone.’
‘Is there any sign of forced entry?’
Ruby hesitates – she didn’t think to look. ‘I don’t know.’
‘Any open windows or unlocked doors?’
‘I’m not sure. Don’t think so. Look, I’m not imagining it. She’s gone. Somebody’s taken her.’
‘Okay. Don’t move and don’t touch anything. Tell me your address and we’ll send a response team over straight away.’
The call ends. Ruby stands in the sitting room, frozen in a pose of despair. She can’t move; if she tried, her legs would give way. Her heart is flapping against her ribcage, its wild beat reverberating through her body. Time has stopped. All she can think about is Mabel. She conjures up a vision of her, as if by concentrating hard enough she can use it as a tracking device. She has to find her before it’s too late, before the trail runs cold. If Mabel never comes back, if – God have mercy – if the worst happens, Amber will never forgive her. Nobody will, and rightly so. She’ll never forgive herself. The child was stolen while she was supposed to be looking after her, keeping her safe.
She hears the sound of police sirens approaching the house. Somehow, she needs to get downstairs to open the front door. Her legs are like jelly and her head is spinning, but she drags herself towards the doorway and along the corridor, leaning on the banister.
Don’t touch anything. That was what the operator said. She takes her hand away and wobbles. The bell rings, followed by a loud knock.
‘Coming,’ she tries to shout, but her voice is hoarse. She descends the stairs slowly and opens the door.
‘Ruby?’ She nods. ‘Come outside, please.’ She shuffles towards the policeman, falling into his arms. He props her up and leads her slowly away. Out of the corner of her eye she sees three white ghosts walk briskly past her, carrying small metal cases.
‘Just sit in the car for the moment,’ says the officer, leading her to his vehicle. ‘My boss is on his way to talk to you. Are you okay? Can I get you a drink of water?’ She shakes her head. ‘Stay there. I’ll be back in a sec.’ He shuts the car door, locking her in.
She stares out of the window at the intense activity going on all around her. It’s unreal, like watching a crew arriving on a film set, trucking in scenery, putting props in place. Plastic tape, traffic cones, flashing blue lights. People in police costumes are talking into their radios. And she’s an actress, playing the role of a young woman whose niece has mysteriously disappeared. It’s all false, all fake.
Police cars have blocked off the road at either end of the terrace. An officer is closing the park gates and another is guarding the door of the corner shop, stopping people entering. Within seconds, rubberneckers gather on the other side of the railings, like birds flocking to a scattering of crumbs. Some of them hold up their phones and