Luke Delaney - The Toy Taker

‘More a case of she resisted,’ Sean confessed.

‘Either way, I’m sure the Lord has already forgiven you. As for the other things, there’s nothing there a bit of good, hard praying couldn’t fix, although perhaps you may want to consider following a different path in the future.’

‘Praying? God? Those things have no part in my life any more. God abandoned me a long time ago. I used to pray to him, used to pray for him to save me, but he never did — never showed himself to me — when my own father was … he never came to me.’

‘I’m sure he was there.’

‘No. No, he wasn’t.’

‘It’s not always easy to understand his plans for us. You suffered as a child, but maybe it was that which empowered you as a man. It’s never an easy or smooth path we walk. I don’t think it’s supposed to be. I don’t think that’s what God wants. But it doesn’t mean he’s not always with us, watching over us. Guiding us through life.’

‘Not me. He was never watching over me.’

‘Did you hear the one about the guy caught in a flood?’ the young priest suddenly asked.

‘Excuse me?’ Sean responded, caught off guard.

‘There’s this man gets caught in a terrible flood — a tsunami, let’s say. So he takes refuge on the roof of his house. A few hours later a fella rows up to him in a boat and says, “Jump in and I’ll row you to safety,” and the man replies, “No thanks, for surely the Lord will save me.” A few hours later another man pulls alongside in a great big speedboat and says, “Jump aboard and I’ll get you to safety,” but the man replies, “No thanks, for surely the Lord will save me.” A few more hours pass and a helicopter appears over the man and calls down through a loudspeaker, “We’ll lower a rope for you and winch you to safety,” but again the man replies, “No thanks, for surely the Lord will save me,” and the helicopter flies away. A few hours later the main tidal wave hits and the man is swept to his death. When he gets to heaven, he says to God, “Why did you forsake me, Lord? In my hour of need I thought you’d save me, but you deserted me.” And God says, “Deserted you? I sent you a rowing boat, a speedboat and a helicopter.”’

‘What’s your point?’ Sean asked.

‘I think the point is, sometimes we can’t see the Lord standing right next to us, watching over us, because we’re looking almost too hard. It’s like we’re looking so hard, we just can’t see.’ The priest felt Sean’s silence, as if something he’d said had disturbed him. ‘You all right?’ he asked.

‘What?’ Sean replied, having missed the question.

‘Are you all right?’ the priest repeated.

‘Yeah. I’m fine — it’s just what you said, about looking but not seeing. I’ve heard that before — recently. Seems to be following me around.’

‘Then maybe it means something? The path you should follow?’

‘The path to perdition?’ Sean asked, his tone slightly mocking — sarcastic.

‘Or the road to redemption,’ the young priest told him. ‘If not for you, then perhaps for those around you — those closest to you.’

‘And the man I’m looking for — an abductor and murderer of children − what about his redemption? Will he be forgiven too?’

‘If that’s the type of man you’re looking for, then I pray you find him, and I’ll pray for his soul too.’

‘And the children — his victims?’

‘I’ll pray for them too. But most of all, I’ll pray for you.’

‘You need to eat your porridge while it’s still warm,’ Douglas Allen told the two young children sitting at his kitchen table. He sounded tired and strained, his usually ruddy skin looking grey and lifeless, his eyes sunken and circled with dark rings. Both his hands trembled and his head still felt numb after the severe headaches he’d suffered the previous night.

‘I don’t like porridge,’ a bored-sounding Bailey Fellowes told him, tossing her spoon into the bowl and pushing it away. ‘It’s disgusting. I don’t have to eat this rubbish at home. I want Coco Pops.’

Allen breathed in deeply to calm his rising anger and frustration. ‘This is your home,’ he told her, ‘and porridge is what children in this house eat for breakfast.’

‘It’s disgusting and I’m sick of it,’ she answered back, staring him squarely in the eyes. He could feel his chest tightening and every muscle in his body tensing as the small slim girl dared to challenge his authority. The devil is in the child , he told himself. Be patient, and the Lord will give me the strength to go on — to save the child .

‘And you, George,’ he asked. ‘Do you like the porridge?’ But the small boy just shrugged and forced a small spoonful into his mouth. ‘You see?’ he told Bailey. ‘The porridge is fine.’

‘He’s just scared,’ Bailey snapped at him, her eyes never leaving his. ‘He’s too scared to say what he thinks.’

‘Why is he scared?’ Allen asked, genuinely confused and concerned. ‘There’s nothing to be afraid of. You’re safe here.’

‘I want to go home and so does he,’ Bailey insisted. ‘We don’t like it here — there’s nothing to do and the food’s disgusting.’

‘You shouldn’t say those things,’ he warned her, the tightening in his chest intensifying until his vision became blurred and his ears popped. ‘They are hurtful things to say, Bailey.’

‘My mum says the truth sometimes hurts.’

‘I don’t think your mother was a very good person.’

‘You can’t say that. You don’t know anything about my mum.’

‘I know enough, and I know you need to forget about her now. We won’t talk of her again.’

‘You can’t tell me to do that. You can’t tell me to do anything. I hate you and I hate this place.’ She sunk her head into her hands and began to sob as Allen looked on, clueless what to do with the sobbing child. He considered punishing her, to teach her discipline and respect, and gratitude — gratitude for everything he was trying to do for her, everything he’d risked for her − but George’s tiny voice distracted him.

‘Are we going to school today? I think it’s a school day.’

‘No,’ Allen told him, feeling the beginnings of another raging headache. ‘No school today. We shall study together later, after I’ve finished work. Now eat your breakfast.’ He closed his eyes tight against the gathering storms of pain and pressed hard at his temples, fighting the nausea and dizziness.

‘When will we be going back to school?’ George innocently asked, but his words ripped the hidden anger from Allen’s heart.

‘For the love of God,’ he roared, ‘I’ve told you, forget about school — forget about your cursed families. They’re nothing to us now. It’s God’s will. How dare you question the will of God? How dare you question his judgment?’ He fell backwards as he spoke, on to the nearby work-surface. The pain made him call out in anger before he steadied himself and forced his eyes open. The two children were cowering at the table, weeping uncontrollably, fear and loathing etched into their faces. ‘I’m sorry,’ he managed to say between painful swallows. ‘Please forgive me.’ Another shot of pain forced his eyes closed once more. ‘God forgive me. Dear God, forgive me for what I’ve done.’ He staggered across the kitchen looking for the doorway like a blind man in unfamiliar surroundings. ‘I must leave you now,’ he managed to say. ‘I have to get ready for work. Finish your breakfast and return to your bedroom. We must forget what happened here and never talk about this morning ever again. Never again, you understand? Never again.’

Sean pushed open the large flexible rubber flaps that served as swing doors leading to the main body of the mortuary at Guy’s Hospital in south-east London. Dr Canning was using an electrical surgical saw to cut through the sternum of an ancient-looking female body lying on the metal table in front of him. Sean waited for the noise of the sawing to relent before coughing to get the pathologist’s attention. Canning looked up, smiled and pulled off his protective goggles, holding them up for Sean to inspect as he walked closer.