Don't Let Me Go (20 page)

She could bear the consequences of what she’d done, just, but knowing what it was going to mean for Chloe was devastating her over and over and would never stop, not ever, until she could make it right again.

What chance was there of that?

None
.

How could there be when she was blatantly guilty of the crime? She’d stolen a child and kept her hidden from the police until she’d felt it safe to take her out of the country and bring her here. Then she’d given her a new name, a better life and all the love any child could ever need. For the first time in her tragic little life Chloe had felt happy and safe, had found the confidence to speak and play, to make new friends and become part of a loving family.

How could that be a crime?

Whatever they do to me, please, please God don’t let anyone hurt Chloe ever again.

Knowing how lost Chloe was going to be without her, how much she had come to trust and depend on her, was increasing her fear to a degree she could hardly bear. She thought of Charlotte as her mother now, and it was how Charlotte felt. It simply wouldn’t be possible for her to love Chloe more if she was her own. She’d even decided that if it turned out to be in Chloe’s best interests to be her only child she’d be happy to have no others. Something special had happened between them right from the day they’d first met in a park, in Kesterly. That was when she’d found Chloe, who’d been Ottilie then, sitting alone on a swing with Boots squashed in next to her and her feet unable to reach the ground. ‘Hello, and who are you?’ Charlotte had asked, and her heart contracted now to recall the way those deep brown eyes had gazed unblinkingly into hers. She’d seemed almost ethereal, Charlotte remembered thinking, as though she’d stepped out of an Impressionist painting.

Her father had turned up then and led his child away, leaving Charlotte feeling a strange sort of wrench at the parting, as though she was trying to hold on to something of the little girl, or maybe the child was trying to hold on to her. She’d had a bad vibe about the father, but it wasn’t until several weeks later that their paths had crossed again. An anonymous caller had rung social services to express concern about a child who lived at number forty-two North Hill. So Charlotte had gone round there and as soon as she’d set eyes on the little girl, she’d recognised her from the swing in the park.

It had felt as though some greater force was at work, drawing them together in a way that was as powerful as it was irresistible and inexplicable.

In spite of knowing instinctively that things were wrong in the house, it had turned out to be almost impossible to prove. Chloe’s – Ottilie’s – father was an intelligent man, the deputy headmaster of a primary school and well respected in the community. Her mother, it turned out, was suffering with paranoid schizophrenia, and so was completely unable to form a natural and loving relationship with her child. However, in the end, it was the mother who’d sent Charlotte the email with links to the websites that showed what Ottilie’s father was doing to his three-year-old daughter.

Ride the tiger, Ottilie. Come on, ride the tiger.

It made Charlotte sick to her very soul even to think of it. If hatred could execute a person, that man, that
perverted monster
would be dead a thousand times over. But it was his wife who was dead, stabbed through the heart with a kitchen knife. It was how Charlotte had found her the night she’d taken Ottilie from the house, lying in a pool of blood while her husband worked frantically at the computer in his studio/shed, trying to erase the evidence of his crimes.

Charlotte hadn’t allowed herself a moment to think of what was right or wrong. She’d dashed upstairs, desperate to get to Ottilie, terrified that she might already be too late, but she’d found her, locked away in a cupboard, trembling and so traumatised that Charlotte had simply grabbed her and run.

She’d known then, and she knew now that she shouldn’t have kept her. She should have gone straight to the police and put her into emergency care, but after everything that sweet little soul had been through Charlotte simply hadn’t had it in her to turn her over to strangers. Maybe, if Kesterly had had a stronger list of foster carers, or if she’d been able to make sure Ottilie was homed with Maggie Fenn, Anthony’s sister and the most naturally maternal woman Charlotte had ever met, she’d have found it easier to give her up, but in truth she doubted it. The bond between them was wrapping itself around her by then, and she’d known that Ottilie was feeling it too. They were together and no matter what the law or anyone else might say, it was where they needed to be.

So Charlotte had kept her, and because Ottilie always did as she was told she’d stayed quietly upstairs every time the police came to the house to discuss the little girl they feared had been murdered by her father. Not that anyone suspected Charlotte of taking the child, they came because she was Ottilie’s social worker. She should have known everything about Ottilie and what had gone on in the house on North Hill. Yet Ottilie was missing, and she, as the person responsible for Ottilie’s care, had somehow failed her. The police had never actually said that, it was the press who’d made her their target for scorn, so she knew already just how cruel – and wrong – they could be. Over time it had been assumed that Ottilie’s father, Brian Wade, had killed her and hidden the body, or passed her on to one of his paedophile ring, and Charlotte had never spoken up to contradict it. She’d simply kept Ottilie with her, waiting for her mother to arrive from New Zealand . . . much as she was waiting for her mother to arrive now.

‘You didn’t drink your tea,’ Grant said kindly as he came in with some tissues. ‘Can I get you a fresh one?’

She shook her head and dabbed a tissue to her swollen eyes. ‘Do you have any news of Chloe yet?’ she asked.

He was propping the door open with his foot, and glanced over his shoulder at the sound of voices along the corridor in reception. ‘Your mother’s here,’ he told her.

Charlotte’s heart jolted with relief. ‘Can I see her?’ she asked. ‘Is it allowed?’

Grant didn’t say, only told her to hang on, he’d be right back.

Moments later the door opened again and as Anna came in, ashen and trembling, Charlotte went straight into her arms.

‘Where’s Chloe?’ she gasped as Bob came in too. ‘Please tell me you have her.’

‘I’m sorry,’ he said gruffly, ‘they got there before us.’

‘No!
No
,’ Charlotte cried in a panic. ‘Where have they taken her? Oh God, you have to get her back. She’ll be so scared. She won’t understand what’s happening. She’ll think we don’t want her . . .’

‘We’re doing our best,’ Anna promised. ‘Bob’s already made some calls . . .’

‘Does she have Boots with her?’ Charlotte demanded. ‘Please tell me they let her take him. You know what he means to her . . .’

Bob was already connecting to Aroha. After speaking to Celia he rang off and looked at Charlotte with an expression that confirmed the worst.

‘You have to get him to her,’ Charlotte urged. ‘Whatever else happens, she has to have Boots. Please can you do that?’

‘Of course,’ he assured her, and opening his phone again he went out of the room.

Charlotte’s reddened eyes moved to Anna. They stared at each other, barely knowing what to say as the fear, the guilt that was racking their hearts, seemed to suck the air from the room.

‘It’ll be all right,’ Anna said shakily. ‘Bob’s already got a top lawyer on it, and he’s optimistic he can make a case for keeping you here.’

Keeping you here.

So there really was a chance she’d be taken back.

How was she even doubting it?

‘What about Chloe?’ she asked hoarsely.

‘All I can tell you is that we’re going to do everything humanly possible to keep her here, with us.’

Knowing the power of the authorities as well as she did, Charlotte felt herself collapsing inside.

‘They’ll put Chloe’s interests first,’ Anna told her, ‘and no one can argue that she wouldn’t be better off with us . . .’

‘Of course she’d be better off with you, but that’s not how the system works.’

‘Maybe not in England, here they take a different view.’

‘How do you know that when you’ve never been in this position before? Do you think they care any less about their children here?’

‘Of course not. What I’m saying is we could find they care more . . . Charlotte, we have to stay positive . . .’

‘I know that. I know,
I know,
but as long as I’ve got no idea where she is, or who she’s with . . .’ An image of Chloe’s father flashed in her mind and she reeled with the fear of Chloe ever ending up in a place like that again. ‘She’s already been through too much. She can’t take any more,’ she sobbed.

‘She won’t have to, I promise . . .’

‘It’s her birthday soon. I’ve ordered her a bike, and Bob’s getting a puppy . . .’

‘Charlotte, listen to me,’ Anna urged, gripping her shoulders. ‘I understand what you’re going through, I know how hard it is . . .’

‘How do you know? What . . .’

‘Because I’ve been there, remember? I lost you when you were Chloe’s age . . .’

‘And it took you twenty-five years to find me,’ Charlotte choked. ‘Thanks for the comfort. And you didn’t
lose
me, you gave me away . . .’

‘No!’

‘Yes! So don’t tell me you know what it’s like, because it was totally different for you and I could never turn my back on Chloe the way you turned yours on me.’

Anna’s eyes were harsh as she said, ‘I can’t keep apologising to you, Charlotte. You know what happened back then. Gavril Albescu would have killed you . . .’

‘Stop, just stop,’ Charlotte gasped, turning away. ‘This isn’t about him, or me, it’s about Chloe . . .’

‘It’s about you too. For God’s sake, look at where we are . . .’ She broke off as Bob came back, looking alarmed at the raised voices.

‘It’s OK,’ Anna told him quietly. ‘What’s happening?’

‘I’ve just spoken to the social worker who collected Chloe from Aroha,’ he answered. ‘She wants us to know that Chloe’s safe and with a good family, and she’ll go back to the Centre now to collect Boots.’

Though relieved to hear that the importance of the bear was understood, Charlotte was less convinced by the ‘good family’, since the social worker was hardly going to say anything to the contrary. ‘Can’t Mum take the bear to her?’ she asked desperately. ‘At least then we’ll know where Chloe is and the kind of people she’s with.’

Bob’s expression was helpless as he said, ‘I asked that, but apparently we’re not allowed to have any contact with her . . .’

‘
We have to
,’ Charlotte shouted. ‘We’re the people who love her, who know what’s best for her. They can’t do this, they just can’t.’ But they could, as she knew only too well.

‘What’s happening with the police?’ Anna asked Bob.

With a glance at Charlotte he said, ‘They’re still waiting to hear from CIB in Auckland.’

‘What’s CIB?’ Charlotte asked.

‘Criminal Investigation Branch. The same as your CID. Grant’s just suggested we go and pack a bag for you in case they have to take you to Auckland.’ He didn’t add that he’d also been advised to bring the passports. Not that Chloe had one, but he wasn’t going to worry about that now.

Fear was burning in Charlotte’s eyes as she turned to her mother.

‘It might not come to that,’ Anna told her hastily. ‘It’ll just be a precaution. Is there anything in particular . . .’ She stopped as Bob’s phone rang.

‘Shelley,’ he told them, clicking on.

As he went outside again Charlotte said, ‘If I ask you to bring me some photos of Chloe it’ll be like . . .’ Her voice started to break. ‘Giving up,’ she finished in a ragged whisper.

Going to wrap her in her arms, Anna held her close as dread threatened to overwhelm them both. ‘It’s all my fault,’ she murmured. ‘If I’d had more courage when you were young, if I’d brought you here with me . . .’

‘If you had then I wouldn’t have been around to rescue Chloe,’ Charlotte said huskily.

‘It was good that you did, no one’s ever going to doubt that, but my mistake was not encouraging you to give her up when I came back to England and found you had her.’

‘Don’t say that! I was never going to give her up and besides, I’d already had her for a week by then.’

Sighing, Anna said, ‘Yes you had, and because I’d only just found you I wasn’t prepared to give you up either. So between us, we found a way for us all to be together.’

It was as simple, and as complicated as that.

Suddenly realising how much bigger this was than just her and Chloe, Charlotte cried, ‘Oh my God, I hadn’t thought about what this is going to mean for you and Bob. Will they press charges against you? Oh Mum, I’m sorry, I’m sorry . . .’

‘Stop,’ Anna insisted, grabbing her hands. ‘We’ll be fine. You and Chloe are the only ones who matter now.’

Charlotte buried her face in her hands as the door opened and Bob came back. ‘Rick’s taking the evening flight home,’ he told them.

Anna looked puzzled. ‘But we . . .’

Putting up a hand, Bob said, ‘Shelley’s gone to Aroha to try and speak to the social worker when she gets there.’

‘Oh God, I’m dragging your whole family into this,’ Charlotte wailed. ‘I don’t want you getting into trouble . . .’

‘We can handle whatever they throw at us,’ Bob assured her. Then to Anna, ‘I can go to the bach if you want to stay here.’

Anna looked at Charlotte. ‘I guess I’ll have a better idea of what you might need,’ she said. ‘Will you be all right?’

‘Yes, yes I’ll be fine,’ Charlotte lied. ‘Don’t worry about me, just find out what you can about Chloe, and if it’s at all possible for Shelley to see her please ask Shelley to tell her that I love her and I’ll . . . I’ll . . . Oh God, what do I tell her when she won’t understand why I’m not there, or why she’s wherever the hell she is.’

Chloe was inside a cage with lots of toys and crayoning books. A TV was on across the room and a lady was sitting on a sofa watching it. Earlier the lady had brought her some squash and a biscuit, but it was still on the floor where she’d left it. Chloe didn’t want it. She just wanted her mummy and Boots.