Her words echoedaround the empty shell of my mind.If you don’t feel safe.What if I can’t trust my own son? I was tired that day. The effort of growing a human being in my uterus, coupled with the stress and strain of Aiden’s case, made me want to do little more than curl up in bed and pull the duvet over my head. I was running on adrenaline and sheer force of will. Instead of nesting for the arrival of my second child, I was driving my son to a therapy session for traumatised children, and dwelling on the fact that a paedophile who may have kidnapped my child was in police custody. All the time there was a sickly feeling in the pit of my stomach. I felt constantly nauseated by the world. I hated everything, and there was a part of me that didn’t even want to bring this baby into the world. How could I tell my daughter what had happened to her brother?
Next, I took Aiden to the dentist. I’d finally found one willing to give him a check-up without him needing identification. Though I abhorred the word ‘luck’ when it came to my son, he had been lucky that his teeth had formed without being too crooked, and there wasn’t too much damage to them.
But today he needed fillings.
It took three of us to hold him down as the dentist injected anaesthetic into his gums.
Afterwards I was shaking, and Aiden, though as quiet as always, walked briskly away from the dentist with arms held stiffly at his side. He let himself into the car and pulled the seatbelt across his chest. Though there was nothing I could put my finger on, I was certain he was angry.
“I’m really sorry, sweetheart,” I said for the fiftieth time since setting foot in the dentist’s office. “It was to make you better.”
But Aiden didn’t look at me. He turned his head away and gazed out of the window as a blurry Bishoptown whizzed past.
“I’m sorry,” I said again, with the distinct feeling that it was falling on deaf ears. “I don’t want to be afraid of you. If only you’d talk. I need to hear your thoughts.” I’d taken to doing this while we were alone. My brain to mouth filter turned off and I rambled at him. “Was it the duke? Was it him? If I showed you a picture would you react? Of course not. Maybe you’re in contact with him. Do you sneak onto the house phone and dial his number? Do I need to get an itemised bill just to check that you aren’t plotting against me? Why did you cut up the curtains? Now everyone can see into our home. Why would you do that?” I banged my palms against the steering wheel. “Why would you do that?”
A car pulled out in front of me and I swerved into the right hand lane, almost directly into oncoming traffic. After swerving back into the left lane, I sucked in a long, deep breath before wiping the sweat from my forehead.
“I’m sorry we had to hold you down at the dentist’s. That must have been very frightening for you. But Aiden, you can’t hold a grudge with me about things like that. Promise me?” I sighed. “I have to make horrible decisions for you sometimes. But you know I love you and I will always keep you safe. No matter what. I’d die to keep you safe, I really would.”
ChapterTwenty-Seven
It’s hard to remember what it was like when I was aregularteenager. Back when I was sixteen, I had a future. I hadoptions, and there is nothing so delicious as having options in life. My parents were not rich, but they were comfortable, which meant I could go to whatever university I wanted to go to. My grades were As, Bs, and Cs. But instead of the future, I thought only ofnow. I wanted fun, laughter, friendship, and love. Who doesn’t? I didn’t know what a consequence was—at least not really. I just wanted to be in Rob’s arms, discovering the world through our senses.
Life became more complicated after Aiden was born, but I still managed to live in the moment. We lived like that together. That was how I got to know him and he got to know me, by playing and pulling silly faces and running through the park. My life stopped in one sense and started in another. But I didn’t just live in the moment with my son. Aiden was the most important part of my life, but I’d had a life before he came along. I’d had a wonderful, vibrant social life with my friends.
There were a bunch of us. Rob, me, half a dozen other guys who ended up going away to university and never coming back, and then, Amy. She was never a best friend, but she was always part of the group. She was quiet, kind of mousy back then. I think she had a crush on Rob, but she never really said anything. She was an inoffensive presence, sometimes overlooked for being so shy, but sweet enough to spend an evening in the pub with. Her connection with Aiden’s disappearance was always highlighted by the press. They often dragged out photographs of us both sipping bottles of lager in the Bishoptown local, our hair badly straightened and highlighted.
And I’d always thought she hated that attention.
But I was wrong.
The day after I took Aiden to the dentist—while the police were still searching Wetherington House on a drab Saturday—I opened the newspapers to find Amy’s story in black and white. Perhaps the way I snapped at her on the street had affected her more than I realised. Perhaps Amy wasn’t quite the mousy girl I thought she was. Perhaps that doll she gave me at my baby shower wasn’t a sign of remorse, but of unhealthy obsession. Why else would she sell a story to the tabloids?
According to her, Aiden had been a problem child. He was a troublemaker at school, always winding up the other students and acting the class clown. He was obstinate and unaware of danger. That was the part that upset me the most. She suggested I never taught my son to be afraid.
“Aiden possessed a kind of blind indifference to danger. On school trips, I always had one eye on him. I didn’t like crossing the road with Aiden because he was likely to run straight into traffic,” so went the article. “But worse was how he’d encourage others to follow him blindly. He once convinced a young girl of five to climb the tallest tree at the bottom of the playground. Luckily, through a joint effort with other teachers, we managed to get her down again, but she could have hurt herself. Aiden was standing at the bottom of the tree when it happened.”
Jake walked into the kitchen as I was holding my head in my hands, leaning over the kitchen table with the papers spread out over the surface. It was 7:30am and Denise was already pottering around us with fresh pastries, making coffee. I wanted her gone. I was sick of her. There was no reason for a police officer to see my husband in his dressing gown, but she’d brought the pastries as a gift, knowing full well that I’d be awake. I was up well before the sun these days.
“What’s happened?” he asked.
I pushed the open newspaper towards him and jabbed at Amy’s face with my finger.
Jake rubbed his eyes and donned his glasses before reading the article. “That fucking bitch!”
I glanced guiltily towards Denise. “Jake.”
“Why is she saying these things?”
“Money, probably,” I answered. My blood was boiling, but I refused to let Denise see the ugly side of my temper again. “I wonder how much they paid her.”
“All this stuff about Aiden, is it true?”
In the background, Denise continued to faff around with plates for breakfast. I was aware of her presence, but I didn’t want to seem like I had anything to hide.
“I remember the tree incident, but it hardly appeared sinister at the time. Aiden told me he was telling her to come down.” It had been precocious child Rosie Daniels who had clambered up the high branches of the tree. I’d always thought that she was sweet on Aiden and had decided to do it to impress him. Aiden was certainly a little monkey when he was five, there was no argument there. He did enjoy climbing trees and he was adventurous, but he wasn’t reckless. He wasn’t flippant about crossing the road. I always made sure that he held my hand.
Jake’s frown deepened as he finished the article and closed the newspaper. “This is the last thing we need.”
