“We just do.”
“Caroline!” A man’s voice roaring down the corridor. The girl got to her feet, handing the empty can to Jessica.
“See you later.”
What killed Jessica was the look of resignation on the kid’s face. It made her want to run after her, sweep her into her arms, take her into her apartment, get her dress clean, feed her properly, at least run a brush through her hair.
Who was she kidding? She could barely look after herself, let alone another person. She might as well wish for the moon as to be able to help Caroline. She’d already done all she could, reporting the family three times to social services. Each time it was thank you for telling us and we’ll look into it.
Then nothing. Sooner or later the kid might end up dead and then she’d spend the rest of her life blaming herself for it.
But what else could she do? Run away with her? The police would find her quick enough and that would be career over, hello jail.
She emptied her pockets onto the kitchen table before walking through to her bedroom, lying back and closing her eyes, wondering how her life had come to this. An apartment with rent in arrears, a job that no longer paid, no skills beyond being good at reading people, no qualifications, no future. She couldn’t even save a ten year old from misery.
She would have cried but it would have done no good. The heat made her forehead burn. A headache was coming and there wasn’t going to be anything she could do about it. The curtains blew in the breeze, then fell still. The only sound was the rumble of traffic on the street far below.
The next thing she knew she was asleep. She knew she was asleep because it was dark. She was surrounded by darkness. She was hammering on a door, banging her fists against the wood, yelling for it to be opened.
Then she heard something. A woman’s voice singing a lullaby. In a strong Scottish accent.
“I left my babby lying here,
Lying here, lying here.
I left my babby lying here.
Tae go and gather blaeberries.”
She woke up with a start. What was that? Her mind felt foggy from the heat and the impromptu nap. Someone was singing nearby. Was the sound carrying from one of the other apartments? No, it was closer than that. She got up and walked to the door as the voice grew louder.
“I found the wee brown otter’s track,
Otter’s track, otter’s track.
I found the wee brown otter’s track.
But ne’er a trace o’ my baby, O!”
She crossed to the spyhole and looked out into the corridor. No one was out there. The sound was behind her. There was no radio in there but the voice was definitely coming from the kitchen.
She walked in and there was only the key sitting on top of the folded flyer. Had she folded it? She must have done.
The key seemed to glow with a white light. Without knowing why, she picked it up and put it to her ear. The voice was already dying away but she could still hear the lovely gentle woman singing softly just for her.
“I found the track of the swan on the lake,
Swan on the lake, swan on the lake.
I found the track of the swan on the lake,
But not the track of baby, O.”
Then the voice was gone. She looked at the key and then shook her head. She was going mad. It had to be the heat. That and worrying about Caroline. And the gnawing stress and anxiety of knowing she was on the verge of losing her apartment. No wonder she thought she was hearing things.
It was all in her head. There hadn’t been a voice. Nonetheless, as she walked back through to the bedroom, she took the key with her.
She lay down with it under her pillow and tried to remember the lullaby. Already the memory was fading. She’d heard it before somewhere. But where?
