D. E. White - The Forgotten Child

Milo bounced back into the kitchen, swinging along on his crutches, showing Lydia the ripped-open box of Ninjago Lego that was his latest present. With a sudden stab of emotion Holly thought of the other child again, the one who was never far from her thoughts. What kind of a life did he have? Did he play with Lego like Milo, or have furious games with dragons?

Preoccupied, Holly watched her ex-husband stride out into the road, getting carefully into his new Jaguar F-Type. He adjusted the driving mirror, taking his time, smoothing back his hair, clicking his seatbelt into place. The car was just another status symbol, another example of the toys that his reputation had brought him. Lydia was right, he loved the adoration from his students, the praise from academic journals, the spotless and much-talked-about career. She thought of what Tom had said about trading secrets. Well, yes they had, but how long would the trust hold, how long would it be until one of them had nothing to lose by telling the truth?

Shoving the emotions away, Holly picked up her phone. ‘Lydia, I’m just going to ring the hospital and see if there’s any news on that other boy.’

Lydia appeared in the kitchen doorway, tea towel in her damp hands, her dark eyes bright with interest. ‘That’s a good idea, love. I hate to think of a kid all alone, and you said he doesn’t seem to have any family. Whoever left him was wicked, plain evil.’

DC Marriot called just after Holly dropped Milo at school. ‘Mrs Kendal? It’s DC Karen Marriot. Are you at home?’

‘What? Sorry, the signal is really bad.’ That and the noise of a hundred screaming kids hurtling around a playground. A dozen footballs bounced off the chain-link fence next to her. Holly moved away, dodging through the crowd to a space near the bus stop. ‘I’ll be home in about fifteen minutes.’

‘I can meet you there. I’d rather speak to you face to face about this.’

Her voice was sharp, almost excited. Holly shivered despite her coat and scarf. It had to be something about the boy. Who he was, obviously, and it was clearly interesting or the DC wouldn’t be dragging herself out to her house. Perhaps he had woken up. Which would be weird, as when she’d spoken to the nurse last night they said there’d been no change, but he was ‘comfortable’. Holly walked faster, almost jogging, until the nagging pain in her injured leg forced her to slow down.

DI Harper hadn’t been in touch after that odd conversation at the hospital. It was almost like he was keeping away on purpose, but she supposed he must have other cases he was working on. He had said his colleague was taking the lead on this one, and with so much drama in her personal life she’d been grateful the police had left her alone. Until now.

Arriving home breathless, and worried, she barely had time to tidy the junk in the lounge, and chuck the breakfast dishes into the sink, when the doorbell rang.

DC Marriot was accompanied by her colleague, DS Steph Harlow, and although both women were polite and almost friendly, Holly felt a flicker of nerves.

‘Do you want tea?’

DC Harlow smiled reassuringly. She was a pretty, round-faced woman with grey hair tied up in a messy ponytail. ‘I’ll have one please. Two sugars would be great.’

‘No thanks.’ DC Marriot was immaculate as usual, her blonde hair gleaming and pinned up in a chignon, her charcoal grey suit jacket and trousers perfectly pressed. But her cool expression betrayed a flash of excitement. ‘I’ll come straight to the point. The swab we took from the child in hospital shows that there is a genetic link between you. These results only give varying degrees of probability, but in this case there is a high degree of probability that you are related to this boy.’

‘Fuck me.’ It wasn’t possible. Holly swallowed hard and switched the kettle off before it had finished boiling. Realising what she had done, she turned it back on and faced the two women, fists clenched. Her stomach was churning, and she found she was breathing fast. ‘How could I be related to him? I don’t have any other kids!’ Her mind was spinning and the shock turned her voice into a squeak. So many possibilities hurtling through her brain. Had her parents had another child? A half-brother or sister who in turn had given birth to a boy?

‘We obviously know about your brother,’ DS Harlow said gently.

‘What? But Jayden’s dead . Oh shit, how old do you think the kid is?’ Without waiting for an answer, words tumbling from her mouth, Holly continued, ‘Oh my God, what’s my aunt going to say? You’re saying this is Jayden’s kid, aren’t you?’ Quickly she did the maths. What had the doctor said? That he thought the boy was about twelve. That would make him Larissa’s child. Her other child. Not the lifeless baby girl the paramedics had found in the flat. Another child. But there had been no trace of another kid in the flat … There hadn’t!

Holly pulled some mugs from the cupboard, hands shaking. One of the handles slid from her grasp and shattered on the tiled floor. ‘Shit!’ She burst into tears, blood oozing from a cut thumb.

DS Harlow got up, and took the remaining mugs from Holly, gently disentangling her fingers. ‘Go and sit down. I’ll make the tea. Sorry, Holly, but this is why we wanted to break the news in person. I understand it must be a shock.’

Wiping her eyes, Holly slumped opposite DC Marriot, but she couldn’t bring herself to look at her, instead staring at the wooden table. She grabbed a tissue and wrapped it around her injured digit. ‘Have you spoken to Lydia? To my dad?’ Fucking hell, Donnie would go mental when he found out. Depending on whether he was having a day off the booze, or if he was busy drinking himself insensible. Mind you, he’d taken zero interest in Milo.

Whatever Donnie had been up to in previous years, he no longer played an active part in anything unless it came out of a bottle. It was hard to believe he used to be the kingpin of all the local crime families. In the years before her mum died, Donnie had dipped a toe in most illegal activities you could name: drugs, of course; trafficking; robberies. There had once been a lot of money to burn but now it was gone.

She and Jayden had grown up knowing that other people were scared of their parents. They’d been raised with the Balintas, the Mancinis and later the Nicholls’ kids. And that had turned out so well. Holly dropped her head in her hands for a moment, lost in the past. A past she had turned her back on. For a while she had been successful, but now it seemed that everything was slowly unravelling. At the back of her brain the words beat a drum tattoo: ‘Another child, another child.’ If the police were right, she had a nephew. Milo had a cousin.

She raised her head and looked up at DC Marriot. ‘Sorry. Just a bit of a shock. Oh thanks. Um … Are you sure about this? I mean, is it possible there’s some mistake? My brother is dead. He … We had a memorial and everything.’ She trailed off. The other woman put a mug of tea in front of her. Holly, seeking mundane comfort, wrapped her hands around the hot mug, inhaling the steam.

DC Marriot was watching her, blue eyes intense, and when she spoke, she seemed to be choosing her words carefully. ‘We’ll talk to your dad next, and then your aunt. Holly, I’m sorry to have to ask this, but is there any possibility that your brother is still alive?’

Holly blinked hard, seeing his face, seeing Larissa’s face. The room seemed to spin, and her hands grasping the mug seemed her only link to reality. Christ, no wonder the child had seemed to have an edge of familiarity. There had been that niggling thought that she did know him, but she hadn’t been able to place him. Despite the fact Jayden had been blonde, and even though this kid had been asleep when she saw him, now she knew she realised he was the image of his dad.