that we’re very low on petrol. My stomach knots at the thought of stopping at a filling station. I can pay with cash, but it’s the security cameras that concern me. Maybe they don’t bother with them in rural locations …
I drive on, eyes peeled for possibilities. The roads are becoming narrower and narrower, twisting ever downwards towards the coast. We enter a small chocolate-box village full of immaculate thatched cottages. A sign flashes at me to slow down to the thirty-miles-an-hour speed limit. Not that there are any pedestrians to run over. We pass an ancient pub and a beautiful old stone church, but there are no shops and definitely no petrol station.
‘What are we going to do if we run out?’ I say to Mabel. ‘I can’t call out the breakdown service.’ I thump my fist on the steering wheel. ‘I should never have come out. I’m so stupid!’ Her eyelids don’t even flicker.
Pulling into a small lay-by, I programme the sat nav to direct me to the nearest filling station. It is four miles away, heading back inland. I groan loudly. ‘Sorry about this, sweetie.’ I reverse, almost hitting a large gate behind me, then swing the car around and off we go, back in the direction we came from.
A few minutes later, I’m pulling up at the pumps. As soon as I turn off the engine, Mabel begins to stir.
‘Won’t be long.’ I get out, pulling my hood over my head and tucking my chin beneath my scarf. At least it’s cold and windy, so it won’t look too obvious that I’m trying to cover my face. Fortunately, it’s not one of those petrol stations where you have to pay in advance by card. I stand very close to the car as I fill up, eyes glued to the ground. I put the nozzle back and lock the car doors, then walk quickly into the shop.
There are two people in front of me in the queue. I stand behind them, keeping my head down, glancing out of the corner of my eye towards the rack of magazines and newspapers. All the tabloids are running a story about missing Mabel, using the same photo. What are they saying? Am I mentioned anywhere?
I have this incredible urge to run out of the shop and drive away before anyone spots us and calls the police, but I know that would be the biggest giveaway of all. I have to stay here, patiently waiting for my turn to pay. Mustn’t fumble with the cash, mustn’t tell them to keep the change, mustn’t look nervous, say too much or too little. Just have to keep calm.
The man in front of me is making a fuss because his chocolate bar has been put on his VAT receipt. I feel my knees starting to wobble and casually place my hand on the counter for support. But eventually he goes and it’s my turn to be served.
‘Number three,’ I say, trying to keep my accent neutral.
‘Cash or card?’
‘Cash.’
‘Anything else?’ I shake my head. ‘Need a receipt?’ I shake it again and hand over two twenty-pound notes.
While the cashier is dithering at the till, a woman enters and stands behind me. ‘Excuse me,’ she says, prodding my shoulder. ‘Is that your baby screaming her head off? You want to be careful, leaving her alone in the car.’
‘Thanks,’ I reply. ‘But it’s okay, she’s locked in.’
‘Yeah, so was that little girl … Mind you, I heard it was the babysitter that killed her and faked the abduction.’
‘Really?’ says the cashier, talking over my shoulder. ‘I thought it was her aunt.’
‘Same person. The mum’s sister. Yeah, it’s all over Facebook. She’s not been charged yet, but it’s only a matter of time.’
My ears prick up. I’m desperate to ask for more details, but daren’t draw any more attention to myself. The babysitter was Amber’s sister, then. I didn’t realise. Didn’t even know she had a sister.
‘Some people,’ the cashier sighs, counting out my change. ‘They’re just plain wicked.’
‘They should bring back the death penalty for child killers.’
‘Absolutely.’
I mutter a thank you as I snatch up the coins and walk quickly, but not too quickly, out of the shop. I can hear Mabel crying from several yards away. Bleeping open the car doors, I quickly climb inside and start the engine. There’s no time to comfort her now; we just have to get out of here. I swoop out of the forecourt and take the road in the