know. I’d strongly advise you not to go online, and definitely not to respond.’ She shudders. ‘Some people are disgusting. My boss wanted to wait until we had a clearer picture before doing a press conference, but there’s no choice now. We need to take control of the media flow before it gets out of hand.’
‘Surely the sooner people know Mabel’s missing, the better,’ says George. ‘Witnesses might come forward. Somebody might know where she is, they might have seen her. It can’t be easy to hide a baby.’
‘It depends on the circumstances. Every situation is different and requires a different approach. This case is …’ Sally struggles for the word, ‘unusual. We have to tread very carefully so as not to panic the person who has your daughter. Getting Mabel back safe and well is the number one priority. It dictates everything we do.’
‘So you think she’s alive?’ says Amber.
‘So far, we’ve no reason to think otherwise. Our hope is that whoever has got her is looking after her, caring for her. We don’t want to do anything that might jeopardise that. At the same time, we’re keeping our minds open. Following every lead, no matter how small.’
Amber nods. ‘I understand.’
‘What about Ruby?’ says George. ‘She’s been questioned, presumably.’
Sally swings her head round to look at him. ‘Yes, we’ve been talking a lot to Ruby,’ she replies evenly. ‘She was the last person to see Mabel, which makes her a significant witness.’
George huffs. ‘Too right. So what did you guys think? Is she telling the truth?’
There’s a pause. Amber can almost hear Sally’s antennae buzzing. It’s scaring her.
‘Why do you ask that?’ Sally says, training her gaze on them. ‘Is there some reason you think she might be lying?’
Amber doesn’t know what to think. Has her sister changed, or can she still not be trusted? She closes her eyes and sees pieces of shattered glass.
Chapter Seventeen
Day Two with Mabel
I lean over the side of the cot and gently stroke Mabel’s cheek. She has fallen asleep at last, poor darling. No wonder she’s fretful. She’s in strange surroundings with only my unfamiliar self to care for her, but I’ll give her lots of care and in time she’ll settle down and learn to love me. She’ll be far happier here in the country. I hated her being cooped up in that tiny flat, with no garden and all that London pollution. The air is fresh here and the landscape is far prettier than Lilac Park.
‘We’re safe here, my darling,’ I whisper. ‘Nobody will find us.’
The afternoon sun is streaming through the window and shining on her face. I walk over to the window and draw the heavy floral curtains, then tiptoe from the room. There’s no need for a baby monitor here. Everything is on the one level and my bedroom is right next door. She will never be more than a few feet from my side.
I feel drained, fatigued by the frantic planning as much as the execution. I found it hard to drop off last night; my brain was buzzing and I had backache from the long drive. My sleep was fitful and light – one ear always listening out for Mabel in case she woke. But miraculously she slept through until 6 a.m.
We had a lovely morning pottering around, getting to know our new home. I showed her all the rooms and took her briefly into the garden, although we didn’t stay there long because it was so chilly. The back lawn is very overgrown, the grass tufted with dandelions. In a few weeks they will turn to seed fairies and we can have fun blowing them apart.
I let out a yawn and rub my eyes. I would love a nap, but I can’t afford it. I must use the time when Mabel sleeps productively, because when she’s awake, she must have my undivided attention.
My first job is to clean the kitchen units properly. The surfaces are dusty and the insides of the cabinets are greasy and smell stale. Don’t want nasty germs in the house, giving Mabel an upset tummy. Bending down, I open the cupboard beneath the sink. There is a bottle of bleach, some old-fashioned scouring powder, plenty of cloths and a pair of yellow rubber gloves. As I run a bucket of hot water, I send a heavenly thank you to Great-Aunt Dolly, who lived here on her own until she died eighteen months ago.
Dolly, or Dorothy to give her proper name, was