I have no problem recollecting that. Monday morning is imprinted vividly on my mind. I can feel my heavy eyes, my sluggish body, and I can hear the radio jabbering and Josh crying, Emily demanding biscuits and Polly taking her sweet time over everything. Lack of sleep is like a disease that makes your bones, joints and muscles ache; it tears down your defences and warps your judgement. I remember the feeling of walking out into the rain without Josh, as illicit as the kiss of a lover. And I remember the fear that came over me when I heard the baby in the house next door crying. Does Grayling know what it’s like? Does he have a tired wife and a wakeful baby? Does he know the difference between that sort of tiredness, where something has sucked the energy from your body and then demanded more, and the tiredness that comes after doing a full day’s work?
‘I went to a viewing at a house round the corner. While I was there, Amber, my friend who works for the estate agent, had a call to say she had a cancellation. So she came back here with me.’
Grayling stops writing and looks up and I meet warm brown eyes. Disconcerted, I shift my gaze to the bridge of his nose.
‘Wouldn’t they have expected her to go back to the office?’
‘Ordinarily, yes, but I was upset about something and she had a gap between viewings, so she cleared it with her boss.’
‘What were you upset about?’
I wait, chewing my lip. Tom gives my hand a squeeze.
‘I’m finding it hard with the baby. I’m not sleeping and it’s affecting me. I needed to talk to someone. I don’t like moaning about it to Tom when he’s working so hard.’
Grayling nods as if he understands. ‘What happened when you arrived back here?’
‘Well, Josh had fallen asleep in his pram, so I took him upstairs and put him in his cot. He usually has a nap in the morning. Then I came back downstairs and made coffee.’
‘You didn’t notice the broken French windows?’
‘No. I had no reason to go into the sitting room. We went straight to the kitchen. I put the coffee on. Then we heard Josh crying and I went upstairs to see what was wrong.’ I frown, pretending to replay the scene in my head, and tell him the story I’ve agreed with Amber, finishing at the moment Josh slips from my grasp.
‘Did either of you speak?’
‘He didn’t. At least, I don’t think he did. I don’t really remember. It all happened so fast and I was in shock. I know that I begged him not to hurt the baby. Amber heard him and came out of the kitchen in time to see him rush out into the street. I was in a terrible state so she drove us to A & E and called Tom and the police from the hospital.’
‘It must have been exceptionally traumatic for you.’
‘It was horrible. I see that man every time I close my eyes.’
His eyes sharpen. ‘You saw his face?’
‘Yes. No. I mean, not clearly. I saw a man holding Josh in the dark.’
The policeman’s smile is benign but behind it I sense scepticism. Tom must do as well, because he turns to me and releases my hand.
‘I only ask because there was a similar burglary in Graves Avenue two months ago.’
‘Yes, I heard about that.’
‘You and Amber were totally unaware this man was in the house?’
‘Yes.’
‘Even though you went upstairs and put Josh to bed? Didn’t you notice the mess in your bedroom?’
‘No.’
‘What do you think happened?’ the policeman asks.
‘I think he was hoping to find jewellery and when Josh started to cry he panicked and went upstairs to try and quieten him down.’ This, at least, was probably true.
The flicker of a frown crosses the policeman’s face and then it’s gone. He transcribes my words. He thinks it’s far-fetched, I know he does.
‘Do you think you would recognize him, Mrs Seagrave?’
‘I don’t know. As I said, it was dark.’
‘Was there anything about him that you do remember?’
‘He wasn’t particularly tall. I don’t think he was young. Possibly late thirties.’
‘Black or white?’
‘White.’
‘When he came out of the shadows, when he was close to you and the door, presumably the light from the landing fell on his face?’
‘I was only looking at Josh. I didn’t take in his face. He was pretty ordinary.’
‘Ordinary in what way?’
Exhausted, I lean forward and rub the space between my eyes. ‘I don’t understand.’
‘Well, what do you call ordinary? Am I ordinary, for instance?’
He looks directly at me and I obediently study his face. His eyes are large and frank, his nose slightly bulbous at the tip, his mouth generous.
‘No one is ordinary when you look at them properly,’ I answer, groping for a way out. ‘Most people are ordinary when you only catch a glimpse of them.’
‘I don’t know whether to be flattered or insulted,’ he says, joking. He is trying, I suspect, to set a neurotic woman at her ease, but it feels somehow inappropriate, as if he’s overstepped the mark.
‘What I mean is, I didn’t get a chance to really look at him.’
‘Well, perhaps Mrs Collins will be able to help us there.’
‘Possibly, but unless he turned round she would only have seen his back.’
‘Shame. Still, she might remember something.’
‘I hope so.’
Tom’s long legs are twitching and he’s fidgeting with a pen on the table in front of him, turning it over and over between his fingers. He puts it down then picks it up again and clicks the ballpoint in and out. The last time I remember my husband this nervous we were sitting in the bathroom of his shared flat waiting for the result of my pregnancy test.
‘I don’t understand why he didn’t slip out while you and Amber were talking in the kitchen,’ he said. ‘He must have heard you come in. He must have heard you putting Josh to bed. He had time to get away.’
‘I don’t know. I wasn’t inside his head. For some reason he didn’t. Maybe he didn’t get what he wanted. Maybe he was scared and panicked.’
‘Jesus. If I was a burglar, the last thing I’d do is go anywhere near someone’s baby.’
Grayling follows this exchange, his eyes moving between us as if he’s watching a tennis match. Then they attach themselves to mine and rest there. ‘Mrs Seagrave, you probably remember more than you think. I’d like to try an E-FIT. See if we can piece together a picture from your memories. Say by the end of the week.’
‘But what about Josh—’
‘We can sort that,’ Tom says. ‘Talk to Magda.’ He stops abruptly and then adds, ‘Doesn’t she come on Mondays? Wasn’t she here?’
‘She was ill.’ I find the text on my phone and hand it to Tom.
He cracks a faint smile when he reads it. ‘We can get her to look after him while you and Amber go. Between the two of you, you might be able to give them something to go on. The sooner they catch this guy, the better.’
Grayling holds up his hand to stop us. ‘There’s no need for any of that. I’ll send someone to you.’
8
Monday, 11 January 2010
‘YOU’RE A STAR. Thanks so much.’ I usher Amber in as Sophie, Rose Forsyth and my girls shuffle past us into the hall. Jenny Forsyth hovers behind Amber, holding her pram. She’s relatively new to the area and hasn’t been round before. She seems nice. Intelligent and sensible.
‘Have you been out at all today?’ Amber asks as they divest themselves of their coats and scarves and drape them over the banister.
‘No. I couldn’t face it.’
‘I don’t blame you,’ Jenny says. ‘After your horrible experience. What a nightmare.’
I look from her to Amber. ‘Are people talking about it?’
Jenny nods. ‘It’s a hot topic in the playground.’
‘This woman I showed a house to this morning,’ Amber says. ‘She’d heard about it through a friend and wanted to know if the area was safe.’