She knows what they’re thinking. Something terrible has happened behind the doors of number 74. A stabbing or shooting, an incident of domestic violence. Someone is dead and that woman in the car has been arrested for murder. Soon it will be all over the internet. She sees a man pointing at her and slides down in the seat, out of sight.
But this isn’t an episode from a lurid TV drama, this is real. A baby has been abducted. There, she’s said it – the word she’s seen so many times on screen or heard on TV, the word she never thought in a million years would ever be part of her life. Her own sweet, darling Mabel has been taken from her bed, like poor Madeleine McCann. Who did it? How did they swipe her from under her nose? What do they want with her? Why do something so evil and cruel? Why, why, why? Questions pour out of her in sobs. Mabel has been abducted and the only thing she knows for certain is that it’s all her fault.
Chapter Fourteen
Day One Without Mabel
Amber sticks to the nearside lane of the motorway, driving well below the speed limit and refusing to overtake, no matter how slow the vehicle in front of her is travelling. It’s like being a learner all over again – both hands gripping the steering wheel, brow furrowed in concentration, jaw tensed, eyes flicking between rear and wing mirrors. She listens to the sat nav like it’s the voice of God, obeying every instruction, even though she knows the way like the back of her hand. I can do this, she tells herself. Then she catches sight of Mabel’s empty car seat in the back, and her heart lurches violently, making the car veer suddenly to one side, as if to avoid an obstacle in the road.
Minutes after the call with Ruby, a detective inspector rang her mobile. He chose his words carefully and his gentle tone reminded her of her late father. He offered to send someone to collect her from Gaia Hall, but she refused, saying she needed to have her car and would manage.
The detective – his name escapes her – told her not to go back to William Morris Terrace, although she can’t work out why. Surely that’s where they should go to wait for their daughter’s return. But no, she has to go to her mother’s house instead, where a family liaison officer will be waiting for her. It’s happening. Once these things start, they can’t be stopped. There must be a protocol for missing children, systems that can quickly be put in place. She has no choice in the matter. Her role is to follow instructions and do as she’s told. It’s better this way. If she lets her thoughts have free rein, they’ll drag her into the abyss.
Keep your eyes on the road, don’t have a crash. You have to stay in one piece.
She’s driving through familiar territory now. Mum still lives in the same house where she and Ruby grew up. These road junctions, zebra crossings, bus stops, this parade of shops, this library, railway station, hairdresser, chip shop and Chinese takeaway are part of her DNA. She passes the primary school she used to attend and the bank that’s now a wine bar, then takes the third turning on the left: Faversham Road.
Coming here is like going back in time, becoming a child again. As she approaches the house, the strings that are holding her heart in place start to loosen. She has to make it to the front door, that’s all. Then Mum will take over.
‘Darling! Thank God you made it safely,’ Mum says, standing on the front step. Amber shuts the car door and stumbles into the house. She falls into her mother’s arms and they start to cry simultaneously. ‘They’ll find her,’ Vicky says, her voice choked with tears. ‘I know they’re going to find her. She’ll turn up, I promise, we have to have faith.’
‘Is George here?’
‘Not yet. He’s on his way back from Manchester. Coming straight here.’
‘Oh. Okay.’ A tiny ripple of relief passes through her, but it’s only temporary. She hasn’t spoken to George yet. Somebody must have contacted him, because she’s had about a dozen missed calls and voicemail messages on her mobile. She couldn’t answer the phone while she was driving. Couldn’t bear to speak to him at all.