Page 67 of The Stolen Child

Sally moved closer to Nicola in a gesture of solidarity. She had no clue why the police officer was in the salon, but figured he was following trouble.

‘We’re looking for a . . .’ Detective Sergeant Baldwin looked down at a notepad he’d pulled from his jacket. ‘A Ms Sally Fox.’

Sally had not expected her name to be called out. She swallowed and replied, ‘I’m Sally.’

‘Is there somewhere I can have a private conversation with you?’ Detective Sergeant Baldwin asked, looking around the small salon.

Sally felt Nicola’s comforting hand move round her waist. ‘I’ll go into the stockroom – you can chat here,’ she said.

‘No, stay with me, please,’ Sally said. She looked at the police officer. ‘I’d like her to stay, if that’s all right.’

The detective sergeant nodded his agreement, glancing at his notebook again. ‘Ms Fox, are you the daughter of Lizzie Fox, of Campbell Road, North Islington?’

Sally nodded, feeling a lump lodge its way into her throat. Her breathing quickened. She felt Nicola’s arm tighten its grip round her.

‘When was the last time that you saw your mother?’ Detective Sergeant Baldwin asked.

Sally chewed her bottom lip as she tried to work it out. ‘I called to see her at Easter, but she wasn’t in. The last time I spoke to her in person was at Christmas. I called to visit her on Christmas Eve to give her a gift – perfume. She likes perfume . . .’ She trailed off, realising she was babbling.

‘And you haven’t seen her since then?’ Detective Sergeant Baldwin asked.

Years of unreturned letters, knocking on an unopened door, and occasional visits that were warm and inviting or cold and dismissive, depending on her mother’s whim, cut Sally as memories flooded back to her.

‘As I said, I tried to visit at Easter, but she wasn’t there.’ She inhaled deeply, then admitted with a sigh, ‘We’re not close. I saw her a couple of times a year at most.’ Then, it struck her that there was no good reason why a police officer was asking her these questions. Ice-cold shivers ran down her spine as she asked, ‘Why do you want to know? Has something happened to her?’

‘Would you like to take a seat?’ Detective Sergeant Baldwin asked, ignoring her question and nodding towards the salon chairs.

Sally shook her head and straightened her back, determined to be strong for whatever was about to be thrown her way.

The detective sergeant’s voice turned sombre, his face grave, ‘I’m sorry to inform you, Ms Fox, that your mother’s body was found earlier today at her home in Campbell Road.’

‘Oh my days!’ Nicola said, her voice coming out in a high squeak.

Sally’s ears pulsed as her mind tried to register the detective sergeant’s words. He continued to explain the horrific details to her. ‘A neighbour called the police this morning, reporting that she’d not seen Ms Fox for several days. And, when one of my colleagues called to check on your mother, they discovered your mother’s body.’ He paused, locking eyes with Sally. ‘She’d been dead for several days.’

This detail made Sally’s knees sag, and the breath left her body.

Her mother had died, and nobody knew for days.

That was the saddest thing she’d ever heard in her life. Nicola led her to one of the salon chairs, whispering soothing sounds.

‘I d-don’t understand,’ Sally eventually stammered. ‘When I saw her at Christmas, she was in perfect health. She looked the same as she did every single time.’

She closed her eyes for a moment, thinking of her mother in a fitted green velour jumpsuit with her ruby-red lips, looking vibrant and happy.

‘How did she die?’ Nicola asked.

‘There will be an autopsy, but it looks likely that foul play was involved,’ Detective Sergeant Baldwin said.

His words hit Sally with such a punch that she felt further winded. She felt his eyes watching her closely; it was as if they were boring holes into her head.

Sally turned away from him, whispering to Nicola, ‘Who would want to hurt my mother?’

‘I don’t know, love, but that’s where these lot come in,’ Nicola replied, nodding over her shoulder towards Baldwin.

‘I’ll need you to come to the morgue to identify her,’ Detective Sergeant Baldwin said. ‘I can take you now, then bring you home afterwards.’

‘Okay,’ Sally said. ‘I need to sort out the towels . . .’