Page 115 of The Stolen Child

Sally’s heart stopped, and she couldn’t help herself: she gasped out loud. Holding a hand over her mouth, she ran to Zach’s side and sobbed as she saw her baby for the first time in two years.

He’d grown so much – from a tiny infant to a toddler. His blond and curly hair was damp with the heat of his warm bed. His face was pink and flushed. She reached down to touch him, scared that he was running a fever. Relief made her shoulders sag when she felt him, and found his temperature normal.

Sally scooped him up, pulling him close to her, and it felt as if it had only been minutes since she’d last held him.

‘I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry I lost you . . .’ she whispered into his ear.

He stirred a little in her arms, but then snuggled in closer to her, fast asleep as Elsie had promised he would be. She had placed allergy medication in his bottle, which acted as a sleeping draught. Elsie said it would be enough to make him sleep through the next crucial hours.

Sally had rallied against the idea at first, scared it might be harmful to Zach. But Elsie had calmly explained that he’d taken it before, prescribed by their doctor, for his hay fever. It hurt that she didn’t know this about her little boy. She’d missed so much. But, no matter what happened next, she vowed to herself that she would not miss another day of his life.

Sally reached under the small bed and found a long canvas bag. Elsie had done as she promised, lining the inside with a long, soft pillow and a small blue-checked blanket. A makeshift bed for her darling boy. Sally lay him inside the bag, and, yes, it was the perfect size as Kimberly had said it would be. She grabbed his soft Peter Rabbit toy and placed it in his arms. Then she zipped the bag up, leaving a small gap at the top to ensure air could freely flow in.

Also packed in the bag were enough nappies and bottles to get Sally through the next twenty-four hours. With one last look around the room, Sally left, holding the canvas bag tenderly, as if it were precious cargo.

Sally returned to her own staff quarters, but with one quick pit stop on the way. She exited deck eight at the end of the corridor, and went outside. Taking the stuffed bunny rabbit from the sleeping Zach, she threw it behind a nearby lifeboat, as Elsie had instructed her to do.

This cost her more than anything else she was doing: the deliberate red herring that her son might have fallen overboard, knowing the pain that would cause many innocents. Sally didn’t know Jason or the little infant Lily, but she knew that, like Sally and Zach, they were victims in this lie that Elsie had created.

Waiting for the ship to dock at Barcelona was torturous. Twenty minutes felt like an eternity, until she finally heard the familiar pull and tug as the ship manoeuvred into port. Sally had made arrangements the previous day for an immediate disembarkation when they docked, so that she could catch the first flight back to the UK. So at four in the morning, with a rucksack on her back and the canvas bag with the most precious cargo she’d ever carried hanging over her shoulder, Sally made her way to the exit. Zach’s weight made her back ache, and she felt sweat trickle into pools under her armpits. But she gritted her teeth and kept moving.

The disembarkation crew were seated at the gangway, reading the morning newspapers. A rope cordoned off the exit, which stopped anyone from leaving.

Sally passed her crew badge to them. ‘I’ve been given permission to leave early as I have a family emergency. My grandmother is dying,’ Sally said tearfully, her hand underneath the canvas bag, carefully balancing it as she waited. She prayed that Zach would not take this moment to awake.

‘Sorry to hear about your troubles,’ the crew member said, passing her a slip to sign, and once Sally had done so, with a quick nod of thanks to the two crew members, she exited down the gangway.

The Customs Hall was empty at this early hour, save for one officer, who was half asleep. She held her crew badge up, and he waved her through without a second glance.

Every step she took, Sally worried that it would jar Zach awake, but he continued to sleep. And as soon as she was clear from the eye-line of the ship, she paused, placing the bag gently on a bench. She looked up and down the street, making sure that there were no CCTV cameras. Then, satisfied that there were no watchful eyes, she reached down to open the canvas bag fully.

Sally held her breath as she looked down at Zach’s face. It was red, and he was sweating. But his chest rose and fell, and he didn’t seem distressed. She desperately wanted to hold him, but knew she had to keep moving. Sally picked up the bag again and doubled her speed, desperate to escape Portside.

If Jason had awoken early, he may have already raised the alarm. She might only have minutes to disappear. And now Sally could only hope that the second call she’d made yesterday had come through for her.

‘I’m holding on to my faith a little longer,’ she whispered.

When she reached the Ronda del Litoral, she took a left onto a smaller cobbled street, then she took another left and a right. Every part of her body was on high alert, but the streets were empty. She could have wept when she turned her final corner and saw a familiar sight a few feet from her.

Wearing a grey skirt and white blouse, with her grey veil flapping behind her, Sister Ailsa leaned against a small red Fiat Punto. She held her arms stretched open as she ran towards Sally and Zach.

‘I found him . . . After all this time, I finally found him,’ Sally cried as she fell into Sister Ailsa’s arms.

BEFORE

July 1983

Sally

Port of Barcelona, Spain

Sally carefully lifted Zach from his crude makeshift crib and cradled him tightly. In the back seat of Sister Ailsa’s car, she held him close, fastening the seatbelt securely round them both. In the rearview mirror, Sister Ailsa watched Sally.

‘You haven’t taken your eyes off him, not even once,’ she remarked, her voice soft with admiration.

Sally’s face was wet with tears as she looked down at her little boy. ‘I’m afraid if I do he’ll disappear again,’ she confessed. ‘I’m not sure I’ll believe he’s back with me, and that this is not a dream, for a long time, if ever.’

‘I told you to hold on to your faith, didn’t I? I knew he would find his way home to his mother. I prayed for this day,’ Sister Ailsa replied. She glanced upwards as if offering a silent prayer.