Elisabeth Carpenter - Only a Mother

‘Not even to protect your son?’

She stares at Luke then finally shakes her head again.

There’s a bang from outside. While he’s never considered himself a coward, Luke doesn’t have the bravado some of his mates have. What if Craig comes through the door and threatens him and Amanda?

‘How long were the police here before?’ he asks Erica.

He’s half surprised she hasn’t already thrown him out. It must be the shock.

‘Only a few minutes… said they’d found a car on the docks matching the description of the one on the news.’

She’s looking at the carpet, not meeting Luke’s eyes.

‘Did they find anything?’

She shakes her head.

There’s another bang.

‘We ought to get going, Erica,’ he says, standing up quickly. He feels nauseous, jumpy. Why did he think it was a good idea to come here when Craig’s a wanted criminal? The man could use the pair of them as hostages to keep himself safe. Fleetingly, Luke thinks this would make a great story, but his wife would bloody kill him, putting himself in the way of danger. ‘Come on, Amanda. Let’s check out the docks.’

Amanda stands, rubbing the tops of her arms from the cold.

‘One other thing,’ says Luke. He pulls out his phone and shows Erica Jaden’s picture of the man who took Leanne. ‘Is this Craig?’

Erica steps towards him – the top of her arm brushes against his; her head is near his shoulder. As he breathes in, he smells nothing, not even shampoo.

‘It’s not clear. It’s taken from too far away,’ she says. ‘I can’t be a hundred per cent sure.’

The woman doesn’t take the phone for a closer look but leans over so Luke can see the back of her neck, and a gold chain that he hadn’t noticed from the front.

‘No, I’m sorry,’ she says. ‘I don’t recognise him. It could be anyone.’

‘Thanks anyway,’ says Luke.

‘Bye,’ says Erica quietly.

Her front door closes behind them as soon as he and Amanda step outside.

In the car, Luke automatically turns the radio on to hear the local news, but Toto’s ‘Africa’ is playing.

‘Erica’s not how I thought she’d be,’ says Amanda as they pull away from the house.

‘What did you expect?’

‘I don’t know. I thought she’d be older, I guess. Her skin has hardly any wrinkles… apart from round the eyes.’

‘Well, they do say sun accounts for most ageing of the skin. She doesn’t go out much.’

‘She’s lying though, isn’t she?’

‘Yes. It’s clearly Craig in that picture. And she knows something about Jenna’s belongings.’

‘We have to tell the police.’

‘They’ll have searched the place at the time. Erica wouldn’t still have them in the house. They could be anywhere.’

‘So, we’ll probably never know where. We can’t print anything on a hunch. I can’t see Erica incriminating her own son by telling them now.’

‘No,’ says Luke. ‘Neither can I.’

‘Well, we can check out the car on the docks. Perhaps Craig will be there.’

‘I doubt that.’

Luke expects that Craig will be long gone. He won’t make it easy for the police this time. If he’s convicted of kidnapping Leanne, Craig will never be a free man again.

I close the front door behind them, resting against it.

I should’ve known about that top.

But I did, deep down, didn’t I? That’s why I burned it. The necklace. I need to find that necklace – the one that’s in Craig’s drawer upstairs. How long had it been there, though? The police searched the place twice – they would’ve found it – it wasn’t hidden.

Unless it’s only recently been placed in there.

I go up the stairs and into his room, walking straight to the drawer. I pull it open, closing my eyes. Willing it not to be there.

I open my eyes, and it’s gone.

I rifle through the other items, open and search the rest of the drawers. I can’t have imagined it in there. Someone must’ve taken it. I kneel on the floor, exhausted. Is that why Craig came back earlier?

I take a few deeps breaths and then I stand.

There was banging outside earlier, when the reporters were here. If Craig is hiding in the shed, then he can answer my questions. It’s time for us to be honest with each other.

I step outside, my feet are cold and damp from the paving slabs as I reach the shed. It’s empty. The back gate is pulled to, but the bolt hasn’t been pulled across. I open it, but the alley is clear – it’s not bin day, so there are no wheelies for him to hide behind.

A coldness runs through me as I close it and pull the bolt across. If he had nothing to hide, why would he run?

I walk slowly back to the house. There are no faces at the neighbours’ windows; no one is watching me. I thought I was doing right by Craig, staying here – always in easy travelling distance for his weekly visits, always waiting in case he was released. I need to speak to Anne Marie – she’ll know what to do. She’s my best friend now and I’ve never even met her. I can talk to her about anything, but it’s not the same as speaking face to face, knowing what someone is thinking without them saying a word. Like what I had with Denise.

Why did she say those things about Craig? Why couldn’t she have just been there for me?

I lean against the inside of the back door as it clicks shut.

Come on, Erica. There’s no point crying now. I blink quickly, even though there’s no one here to witness if I cry or I don’t.

I go through to the living room to clear up the tray after the visitors. Luke seems a nice sort, even though he did print those lies Denise told about Craig. But he was only doing his job.

I pause.

If I can forgive a stranger so easily, why can’t I forgive Denise? She’s knocked on the door a few times over the years. She even carried on sending me birthday cards after – though she’s not done that for the past three years. She sent me a letter a few years after the newspaper article came out, but I burnt it. I wish I hadn’t. I remember a few of the lines: Not a day goes by when I don’t think about you. Remember the time we caught the bus to Morecambe and got straight back on the bus home because the place was full of old people… The night before my wedding is still the best night of my life… It’s been so hard living without you as my best friend.

And then I recall why I haven’t forgiven her: because she didn’t ask for my forgiveness. She has never said she was sorry. I thought remembering that would strengthen my resolve, push her further away from my mind, but it doesn’t. I think about her every day, too. My old best friend.

But I can’t be sentimental about it; I must keep my resolve.

I go to the bookcase, and in between The Lives and Loves of a She-Devil and Watership Down is Denise’s article. I unfold the now-yellow newspaper.

Denise Bamber, once a close family friend of Craig Wright, has today revealed the secrets behind Preston’s most hated man.

Craig Wright, 20, was jailed last week for the murder of Lucy Sharpe, after dramatically changing his plea mid-trial.

A source close to the family has revealed she knew he was capable of murder.

‘He was quiet, and you know what they say about those,’ said Denise, 44, also from Preston. ‘My son was friends with him, but it all went wrong when Craig turned to drugs.’

Ever-present and loyal during Craig Wright’s trial was his mother, Erica.

‘He never knew his dad, though,’ said Denise. ‘In fact, no one did. She didn’t even tell me, and I’m her best friend.’

I don’t need to read any further. I put the article back in its place and wipe my hands as though they’re covered in filth.