D. E. White - The Forgotten Child

Her aunt was already busy crashing around the kitchen downstairs, making one of her famous fry-ups. Holly, who preferred to get at least two cups of coffee down before she even thought about food, felt her stomach heave slightly at the smell of bacon.

But Milo was soon sliding down the stairs on his bum, dragging his crutches behind him, apparently desperate for food. ‘Lydia, can you leave my eggs all runny please and can I have a sausage too?’

***

‘Lydia, I’m fine. I can do it.’ They were sitting in the living room, which after Lydia’s assault with the Hoover and dusters was unusually clean and tidy. Milo was drawing at the kitchen table.

‘Holly, you most certainly are not fine. You told the police someone almost ran you off the road, and now they seem to think all kinds of things about how this other boy got in the car. Before you say a word, you know I believe you. As if you wouldn’t say if you knew who he was! That DI Harper sticking his beak in around here again isn’t going to help anyone, is it? Now what’s all this about you thinking you’re going back to work on Monday? You’re barely back on your feet!’

Holly took a deep breath and let it out slowly. ‘Don’t be so dramatic. I have to go back to work because I need the money. You know I always work overtime shifts to cover the extra on the mortgage, now Tom’s gone.’

‘You should move house, get somewhere smaller instead of killing yourself working all hours. Come back to the Seaview, love,’ her aunt told her. Then her expression softened. ‘Of course, I’ll have Milo when you’re working as usual, but give yourself a break, love. The two of you have only been out of hospital for a few days.’

‘Thanks, Lydia.’ Holly smiled at her, silently adding that whilst she was still sane and breathing there was no way on earth she was going back to live on the Seaview. The mirror opposite the sofa reflected them, so similar both physically and mentally. With the pale winter sunlight shining through the window, casting a gentle glow across her face, Lydia looked so much like Holly’s mum.

Lydia was the older sister, pushing sixty-eight now, but the black curls were glossy and as usual she was heavily made up, with red lipstick and lashings of dark eyeliner. Lydia’s husband had died four years ago, and she had dealt with the grief as only she could – by joining a swanky health club and spending lots of money on clothes.

Lydia had no kids so she had always had a lot of time for Holly and her brother. She could have moved off the estate years ago, but she said she was happy in her flat. Her husband, Mick, had invested in property and a bar in Spain, and Lydia said as soon as Holly was settled she’d go and live in the sunshine.

The older woman got up and moved over to the window. ‘At least you haven’t had any reporters hanging around in the last few days. Whilst you were in hospital they were parked out front for a bit, even knocking on the door when I was over stocking the fridge, and I told you I went over and had a word … I get that it’s a good story but they’ve got no right to turn up on your doorstep. That poor boy … I just keep thinking why the hell haven’t his parents reported him missing? It really gets me to think maybe he doesn’t have anyone, any family to worry about him …’

The phantom child in Holly’s car was a great story, but so far both police and journalists had drawn a blank. A police appeal had been on the national news, giving sparse details and focusing on the fact that somewhere, someone must know a child was missing. Her name hadn’t been mentioned but from her previous experience she knew journalists had ways and means of tracking people down. Although DC Marriot had told her the boy seemed to be improving and the most recent scans were encouraging, nobody could really be certain he was okay, until he regained consciousness.

She would go back and visit him this week. Perhaps subconsciously he would know that somebody was looking out for him. In a weird way he had been given to her, and she felt responsible until another superseded her claim.

‘ Do they know who the other boy is yet?’ Milo asked suddenly, abandoning his drawing and hopping into the living room. ‘I mean, what if they already know who he is but they aren’t telling us?’ He was fiddling with the TV remote, half his attention on the task in hand, half focused on this intriguing subject. He’d brought it up numerous times every day since they’d been out of hospital. After a couple of days of being pale and withdrawn, he had gradually recovered his bounce and confidence. But the questions were the same: Was the boy conscious yet? Why was he in the car? Who put him there? Lately he had started on this conspiracy theory, and become convinced the police knew the boy’s identity.

DC Marriot’s colleague, DS Steph Harlow had carefully questioned Milo, but he said he remembered nothing after the deer leaping across the road, until he woke up in hospital. When Holly reminded him what he had said about the man leaving the other boy in the car, his chin set stubbornly and he shook his head. The nurse told her later that the memories could come back, but it was also possible that now Milo was fully awake, he was simply blocking out the whole traumatic event, and even if he did remember, he didn’t want to share it.

The doorbell rang and Holly made a move to get up, even as her aunt went to the door, her high-heeled fluffy mules tapping on the wooden floor. She could hear the initial stilted conversation, and frowned. Great, Tom was the last person she wanted to see. It was a shame he couldn’t have stayed abroad. He had returned from his overseas lecture tour two days after the accident, but had made sure his visits to Milo in hospital didn’t coincide with Holly’s. Then, reassured by the medical staff that Milo was on the mend, he had resumed his tour, and departed for a further three days in Berlin.

‘Dad!’ Recognising the voice, Milo scrambled for his crutches and hopped proficiently out of the room.

‘Hallo, mate, how are you doing?’

‘Yeah, I’m okay. Mum’s doing well too, says her leg is nearly better but mine is actually broken .’

‘I know. I wanted to come back sooner, but I needed stay for this work conference … Still, it’s all done now. Want to see what I bought you?’

‘Yes! Am I coming to stay with you when Mum goes back to work?’

‘Come inside properly then, and I’ll show you your present.’ Tom had been walking down the hall as he greeted his son but now they both appeared in the doorway. Tom was carrying a large square box, wrapped in shiny green paper.

Holly nodded politely at her ex-husband, but couldn’t bring herself to speak. The sight of yet another expensive present for Milo made her wince. She supposed he was doing it to make up for the divorce, but it made things awkward, and highlighted the fact she couldn’t afford to buy her son expensive presents. Her aunt scowled at Tom, muttered something about a cup of tea and vanished into the kitchen.

‘So, Holly, how are you feeling?’ He was clearly forcing himself to be civil, and without waiting for an answer he carefully pulled Milo close to his side, dropping a kiss on his blonde head. ‘Thank God Milo is okay.’

She managed to respond to this. ‘Yes, he’s fine now. He’s going back to school on Monday. Milo, can you go and help Lydia while I chat to your dad? He can come and play football with you in the garden in a minute, okay? And then you can open your present too.’ Holly smiled. ‘I did say he shouldn’t be playing football, but he’s determined to be goalie at the very least.’

For a split second they shared a look over Milo’s head. A tiny golden moment that reminded Holly of when Milo was first born, and they used to stand next to his crib, watching him sleep, totally in awe of this tiny human being they had created. But then it was over, Tom’s expression changing to one of disdain as he spotted her roster on the coffee table.