behind the lilac ribbons, by the way.’
George releases Amber’s hand and leans right forward. ‘Sod the bloody ribbons. Can I get this straight? The police think Sonya took Mabel?’
‘No, no, there’s no evidence for that yet; it’s just one of many avenues we’re exploring. My boss wants to know if Sonya has ever visited you, or babysat Mabel, or – importantly – if you’ve ever had any problems with her.’
‘No,’ says Amber definitely.
‘Okay. Thanks.’ Sally makes another note.
Amber is surprised to find that the possibility that Sonya is the abductor is making her feel better, rather than worse. She knows that women who’ve lost babies can sometimes go a bit mad and steal other people’s, usually from maternity hospitals but also from outside shops and other public spaces. Why not from their own home? She’s read true-life accounts in tacky magazines at the hairdresser’s. The stories are heartbreaking but they always have happy endings.
‘Sonya … Sonya,’ she repeats. ‘I didn’t make the connection before, but yes, it makes sense.’
‘You’ve got to find her. Like now.’ George jabs with his finger. ‘We shouldn’t be sitting here talking about it; you should be getting a warrant for her arrest, putting out an all-ports alert, splashing her face all over the internet.’
‘We’re not saying Sonya has definitely got Mabel,’ Sally replies coolly. ‘It’s only a possibility at this stage. If she has got her, the last thing we want to do is let her know we’re looking for her. We don’t want her to panic and harm her. Which means it’s really important – for Mabel’s sake – that you don’t tell anyone about this. And I mean anyone.’
‘Okay, okay,’ agrees George. ‘As long as you get on with finding her. We’ve lost enough time as it is.’
‘We’re already working on tracing her. As soon as there’s any news, you’ll be the first to know.’ Sally gets up and pops her notebook into her bag. ‘Right. I’m going to the station now to give the boss an update. I’ll be back in the morning. In the meantime, try to rest.’
‘Thanks.’ George looks abashed. ‘Sorry to shout, I just—’
‘It’s fine. See you tomorrow.’ She gives them a sympathetic smile and leaves the room.
As soon as she’s gone, George covers his face with his hands. ‘Sonya. Bloody Sonya. Why didn’t we think of her before? It was staring us in the face. That headcase.’
‘Sounds like you know her better than I do,’ says Amber, looking at his slumped figure. A chill starts to creep up her back.
He shakes his head. ‘Not really.’
‘Why did you call her a headcase?’
‘She had a bit of a reputation at the gym, that’s all.’
‘What for?’
He thinks about it. ‘For being weird.’
‘Weird? In what way?’
‘You know, hitting on guys, including some of the married ones. She was a menace, if you must know.’
He’s hiding something, she can see it in his body language. ‘Did she hit on you?’
‘A bit.’
She stiffens. ‘You never told me that before.’
‘There was nothing to tell. I could see she was trouble from the off – I gave her a wide berth.’ He removes his hands and sits up straighter. ‘To be honest, I think it was a baby she was after more than a relationship.’
Amber’s mind skips back briefly, remembering how emotionally painful it was trying to conceive. The money she spent on pointless tests when her period wasn’t even late. How oversensitive she was to signs of possible pregnancy – fatigue, tender breasts, a strange taste in the mouth – and how disappointed she was when they turned out to be figments of her imagination. Then, just as she was about to give up, the overwhelming sense of achievement when she finally got a positive result, as if she’d just climbed Everest in her bare feet and was standing on top of the world. Poor Sonya …
‘No wonder she was devastated when she lost it,’ she says.
‘I guess so.’
‘Do you know who the father was?’
‘No, but several of the guys were shitting themselves … She never let on, not that I know of.’
‘Well I hope it is Sonya who’s got Mabel,’ Amber says.
George turns to her, visibly shocked. ‘Why? The woman’s deranged!’
‘Because she wants to be a mum. She’ll be looking after her, loving her, treating like she’s her own baby.’
‘She’d better be,’ George says bitterly. ‘Or I’ll wring her bloody neck.’
Chapter Twenty
Day Three without Mabel
Amber feels too alive, too much in the moment; the seconds stab at her, even during the few hours she