The Ice Marathon (12 page)

“But you did ask them to look after your newborn baby?” said
a new voice in the conversation. I turned and saw a female officer.

“I had to give him to them. I had no other choice. I was
ill
.”

I didn’t have time for this. Were the officers absolutely
certain that Joseph wasn’t here? They could be wrong. Had they tried around the
back? I tried to walk, but the officer held me firmly.

“I think we should take you home. Then we can sit down
and …”

“They can’t do this, can they?”

“We’re doing everything we can to investigate your
allegations.”

“They’re not
allegations
!”

I didn’t want to go home. Home was the one place where
Joseph would not be. Going home would be regressive. How could I bring Joseph
home unless I was out looking for him?

“I can’t go home!” I cried, somewhat hysterically. But then
I realised that if I were to maintain the moral high ground, I had to behave as
rationally as I could. Going home might not feel rational to me, but if it were
what the police wanted me to do, then it was what I must do.

I took one last look at the house, feeling so strongly that
for one crazy moment, I wondered if I’d be able to feel Joseph’s presence
through the stone walls. Obviously, I could no more see through a wall than I
could walk through one. I sighed miserably, and got into the police car.

* * *

It surely wouldn’t hurt to go for a walk. Judy might have
taken Joseph to the park – she did love that park … The police had advised
me to go home, but they hadn’t told me to stay there. What harm could a short
stroll in the park possibly do? If my instincts were correct, it could do a
great deal of good. Surely, if I could just get Judy alone …

I had left voicemail for Nicky, and even Dave, but hadn’t
yet heard from either of them. They were probably both at work with their
phones turned off. I began to wish I had family of my own.

The park can be a lonely place when you’re on your own. The
scattering of people walking dogs, skating and strolling, without a care in the
world, only served to highlight how alone I felt. The jolly Christmas tree
heightened my sense of isolation. Tears began to pour down my cheeks. With no
particular destination in mind, I started running. Even if I couldn’t find Judy
and Joseph, I needed to work off some of the anger I felt inside. I took long
strides, my arms flailed around with inelegant frustration.

Then, just when I was least expecting it, I bumped into her
– somebody I knew – Tina. She took one look at me and came hurrying over with
her baby girl in tow. Looking at Aimee, safely strapped in her pushchair where
she belonged, was both painful and warming. At least things were working out
for one of us. The world wasn’t entirely satanic. I looked at Aimee’s little
mittens and felt a stabbing shard of pain.

“What’s happened?” asked Tina, in her light, soothing voice.

“They’ve taken him away. They’ve taken Joseph!”

She looked around naively, as if the answer may be something
as simple as his pushchair having slipped, unexpectedly, down a parkland slope.
“Who?” she asked, still scanning a wooded area.

“His fucking grandparents!”

An elderly couple turned and stared.

“Is there somewhere around here that we could get a coffee?”
asked Tina.

On the one hand, I felt that a second spent without looking
for Joseph would be a second wasted; on the other, Tina may be able to help. I
needed a chance to vent and perhaps, if we put our heads together, we’d be able
to work out where the Morans had taken Joseph.

“I don’t live that far away,” I suggested. I wanted to get
away from prying eyes. It would be unprofessional to take a client to my house,
but since the day when I fainted, I had begun to regard Tina as a friend.

“I’d like to see your house,” she said, with a smile.

I felt some comfort to know that
somebody
was on my
side. The police said they were investigating, but where were they? Sure,
they’d taken a detailed statement from me, but now what were they doing? At
least Tina, also a new mother, knew how I felt. There was a connection between
us. Perhaps she’d be instrumental in helping bring Joseph home.

* * *

Tina was a great listener. She understood not only the delicate
state of new motherhood but the perils of being from a demographic tarred with
expectations of failure. I admired her and found myself morbidly wishing I had
suffered from an addiction, not a mood disorder. It was dumb but, at that time,
nothing seemed worse that my own predicament.

While Tina was making tea, the doorbell rang. I dived
towards the hall. I heard Tina flick off the kettle so that she could hear what
was going on. My heart was in my throat. Had Gerald and Judy finally come to
their senses?

Alas, no. Instead, I was greeted by two ladies in what
appeared to be casual office clothes. They looked like they might be sisters –
each in their forties with their brown hair tied in loose ponytails. One of
them was carrying a clipboard.

“Emma Hatcher?” she asked.

I nodded.

“My name’s Leila and this is Karen. We’re from Social
Services,” she explained.

Finally.
“So the police
are
taking me
seriously!”

“I can assure you that childrens’ welfare is a top
priority.”

A
top priority? Surely it should be
the
top
priority. “I can try and give you detailed information. I’ve been trying to
work out where they like to go, where they like to shop …”

“Actually, we’re here to find out a little more about you.”

About
me
? Why did they need to know about me? “Am I
being judged?”

“We just want to know a little more about your situation,”
explained the one called Karen. “Nobody’s judging you.”

I showed them both into the living room, where little Aimee
sat playing with rubber ducks.

“My friend’s little girl,” I explained.

“And where is your friend?” asked Leila, looking around.

At that moment, Tina called, “Will you be needing extra cups
of tea then?” I turned and saw her head poking around the door.

“Hello Tina,” said Leila, turning to face her.

I saw the colour drain from Tina’s face. “I should go,” she
said hurriedly. She rushed into the room and scooped up Aimee. I was confused.
It was no surprise that Tina was acquainted with Social Services, but I didn’t
know that there was any animosity between them. I followed her into the hall,
where she was strapping Aimee into her pushchair. “Everything all right?”

“I just hate Social Services,” she explained. “They’re
always breathing down my neck, even though I’ve been clean for over a year.”

Suddenly I panicked. Tina was a recovering addict. If Social
Services knew about her substance abuse, how would that reflect on me?
Positively, I hoped – it’s good to be tolerant and understanding, isn’t it?
Somehow, I suspected that they may not view it that way. I said farewell to
Tina and watched her and Aimee leave, feeling a lump growing in my throat.

“How do you know Tina?” asked Karen.

“She’s a friend,” I said.

“A friend?”

“Yes.”

“Where did you meet her?”

I knew that they sensed that I wasn’t telling the whole
truth. “I met her through Shelter, originally.”

“Have you had housing troubles?”

“No, I work there. Well, I did – I’m on maternity leave.”

“So she’s a client?”

“Yes, well, no. Not
now
.”

“Do you often invite former clients into your home?”

Oh no. This wasn’t how I’d pictured things panning out. Of
course I didn’t regularly bring clients into my baby son’s house. I wouldn’t
bring anybody into his life that I didn’t trust. I would be especially
discerning now that I’d seen the Morans’ true colours.

Already I had given Social Services the impression that I
was an unfit mother, and I hadn’t yet told them about my health issues. Was I
going to lose Joseph forever?

Chapter 13

I was longing for Simon’s return. It had been three
excruciatingly long days since the abduction and somehow Gerald and Judy had
managed to evade the police. Perhaps Simon would be able to find his parents
and talk some sense into them. I gulped; would he want to help me after I’d
sent him away so cruelly? Had he even got the message I sent before he left?
Even if he had – ‘I don’t quite hate you’ was hardly a gushing sign of
affection.

In addition to the overwhelming need for assistance in
bringing Joseph home, I missed little things about Simon. How odd that
something as small as having nobody to share a teapot with, could bother me at
a time like this. Perhaps it was because I was so utterly crushed, that the
little niggles were able to get to me.

It didn’t help that Nicky and Dave were out of town – a
family pre-Christmas trip. I’d spoken to Nicky at length on the phone. She
offered to come home right away, but I told her that Simon would be back today.
Now, looking at the clock, I wondered if I’d made the wrong decision. Surely,
by now, he’d be off the plane and turning his phone on. Surely, after ten days
away, he would be desperate to see his son.

I wondered if I should have given more detail in my most
recent voicemail, but how could I tell him that his parents had taken Joseph
and run away? It was going to be difficult for him to hear however I told him,
I at least owed it to him to break the news face-to-face.

I found myself Googling the ice marathon again. The
landscapes were so soothing. Then, I noticed that somebody had uploaded a new
album. Excitedly I opened the page and started scanning the thumbnails for faces.
I found Simon – or at least, I thought I had. When I clicked on the thumbnail,
I found that it was another man with a similar face shape and colouring. I
tried another – again, not Simon. Finally, on page two, I found a photo of the
whole group – around forty competitors. Simon’s face didn’t jump out right
away. When I got down to the face in the bottom right, I realised that I must
have missed Simon. I checked again …

The doorbell rang. I prayed it wouldn’t be Social Services.
Although they kept assuring me that they wanted what was best for Joseph and
that they
were
listening to me, I couldn’t help feeling judged. How
could I feel anything else when strangers came into my home to find out whether
it was a suitable place for bringing up
my
child – the child I’d
carried, given birth to and loved for over three weeks.

But it wasn’t Social Services. I recognised Simon through
the frosted glass. I threw open the door. Without really meaning to, I fell out
though the doorway and into his arms.

“Steady on!” he said, with a laugh.

Obviously, he hadn’t heard.

I felt like blurting everything out at once, but it was a
long, horrible story, and he was going to need to sit down.

“Did you get my messages?” I asked.

“No, I left my charger at home.”

“And you haven’t been home?”

“I came straight here.”

There was so much he wouldn’t know. Where should I begin?

“About what I said before you left …” Those words
seemed so long ago and relatively small in light of the much graver things that
had happened. Nevertheless, they had been hurtful and I had to show him that we
were on the same side.

“I know you didn’t mean what you said. You pushed me away so
that I would go on the trip.”

“You
knew
that?”

“Not at first, but … well … it sounds cheesy, but
there was a moment on the flight out there …”

“Are you going to tell me you looked down at the world below
and it put your life into perspective?” I asked, surprising myself with a
sliver of humour.

“Yes! Actually, it was a bit like that. And the landscape
out there – God, Emma! It’s like nothing you could even imagine.”

“You had a good time then?” I asked, feeling so pained to
know that I was about to burst his bubble.

“The best. Although, I missed Joseph like crazy – I can’t
wait to see him – but there’s something I need to tell you, first.”

How could I tell him that Joseph was gone? That he wasn’t
going to be able to see him right now, and in fact, I didn’t even know where he
was?

“Wait, are you crying?”

There was no point trying to hide it. Tears were as good an
introduction as any.

“What’s happened?” he asked hurriedly. “Is Joseph okay?”

I nodded. “I think so.”

“What do you mean, you ‘think so’?”

I started to shake.

“Emma!”

“Your parents took him.”

“What? You mean, they’ve taken him out for a bit?”

“No, they
took
him. I asked them to look after him
for a few nights …”

“You did
what
?”

“I was really ill!” I shouted, defensively.

He buried his head in his hands.

“I got better as quickly as I could, but …”

“I told you I should have stayed here.”

“What’s done is done.”

“But what is done? What’s happening? I’ll just go around to
theirs and tell them I’m back now.”

“They’ve gone.”

“What do you mean, gone?”

“I called the police right away, but when they got there the
house was empty.”

“What? The
police
? You mean they’ve taken him away
without your permission? But that’s ridiculous! Are you sure?”

“Yes, I’ve sat outside the house many times, sometimes for
hours, in the hope that I’d get a glimpse of him, but they’re definitely not
there.”

“So they won’t let you see him?”

“They think I’m an unfit mother.”

“But that’s insane. You’re a brilliant mother.”

“I wasn’t.”

“What do you mean?” he scoffed sarcastically, for once I
welcomed his vocal conviction. If he only knew how I’d abandoned his son for four
days, he might not be so certain.