Jacob was being led towards the door by Mrs McDonald. ‘You’ve been very helpful. Thank you so much. Here’s my card if you remember anything else in the meantime. Just call that number and ask for me.’
Gina joined them at the door. ‘Thank you, Mrs McDonald. Don’t forget to put your chain back on when we’ve left.’
‘I won’t. You never know who’s knocking about.’
‘You certainly don’t,’ Gina replied as they stepped into the hailstones. The woman hunched over as she closed the door. They watched as she entered the living room and turned the lamp off.
‘I hope I’m never that alone,’ Gina said.
Jacob looked back at her as they raced from the porch to the car. ‘It’s sad, so sad. There are so many Mrs McDonalds though.’
Total darkness had descended upon the road. Only three lamps were working. She hoped that Mrs McDonald’s account was an accurate one, that she wasn’t just a lonely woman, making things up. If true, she’d given them a useful start, and the fact that the suspect had been cradling a bag suggested highly unusual behaviour – behaviour consistent with someone who was carrying a baby in a bag.
Gina nervously checked the time again. She knew Hannah would let herself in with the key she’d given her, but would she wait? If she didn’t wait, what then? Gina wondered if she would end up like Mrs McDonald one day. It would be easy to think badly of Mrs McDonald’s son after that conversation, but had she let him down? Had he given up on her the way Hannah might eventually give up on Gina? Maybe there’s more to the story. Maybe, like Gina, Mrs McDonald harboured a dark secret, one she could never share with her son. If she told Hannah the truth, she might not believe her. She might never speak to her again. But keeping the secret was pushing Hannah away too. Gina flashed back to the night of Terry’s death, taking a swift intake of air as she relived the moment he tumbled down the stairs as baby Hannah cried in her cot.
‘Let’s hope we never become Mrs McDonald,’ Gina replied as she turned away and wiped an errant tear from her cheek.
Jacob smiled. ‘I’ve took some good notes in there. When we get back to the station, you could get your car and go straight home. I’m happy to get the report done before I leave. Go see your daughter, get in the bath or something and come back tomorrow feeling better.’
Gina coughed into her hand and returned his smile. ‘You’ve made my evening. I think I might just do that,’ she said. She might just make it home for Hannah.
Twenty-One
She pulled onto her drive, next to Hannah’s red hatchback, and saw that her lounge was brightly lit. Hannah had let herself in and was in the kitchen. Her heart pounded as she grabbed another tissue and blew her nose. She should’ve cancelled on the grounds of having an infectious illness, but she knew Hannah wouldn’t believe her and things would sour between them even more. The car’s fluorescent clock stared back at her. She was only ten minutes late. She wondered if Hannah had arrived early. She had a knack for doing that, and her earliness always made Gina’s rushed lateness seem worse than it was.
Gina walked down the drive and peered through the window. Ebony pranced across the window ledge, holding her tail high as she spotted her owner. From outside, Gina watched as Hannah made a cup of tea and Gracie shuffled along the floor in a lilac romper suit. The toddler spotted Gina and began cooing. She couldn’t hear the words but she could see as Gracie shuffled closer to her. The toddler stood, took several steps and then fell. Hannah ran to grab Gracie and spotted Gina. She glanced at her watch and frowned. ‘Sorry,’ Gina mouthed. She walked over to the front door and let herself in. ‘Sorry I’m late. I was held up in an interv—’
‘Don’t tell me, Mum, I don’t want to know. I’ve been here twenty minutes, bored out my tree. You could’ve texted or something.’ She grabbed the toddler and walked back into the kitchen. ‘It’s freezing in this house. Gracie is cold. I didn’t know how to turn on the heating.’ She placed the toddler and a couple of plastic toys on the rug.
Gina bent down and flicked on a switch at the side of the gas fire. ‘There we go.’ The red and orange flames flickered and the room suddenly had a cosier feel. Gina switched on the lamp and turned the main light off. ‘It should warm up in a minute. How’s my little Gracie?’ She kneeled down and stroked her soft fair baby hair.
‘She doesn’t know who you are.’ Hannah grabbed her tea and closed the door to the lounge before sitting down.
‘That’s not true, is it, chicken?’ Gina asked as she picked Gracie up and hugged her.
‘Nannananna,’ she shouted.
Gina smiled and looked up at Hannah. ‘Of course she knows who her nana is. Don’t you, Gracie?’
The wind howled outside. Ebony jumped off the window ledge and began competing for Gina’s attention. Gina held Hannah in one arm and stroked Ebony with her free hand. The cat soon tired of the fuss and wandered out towards the kitchen. Hannah slurped her tea and placed the cup on the coffee table. ‘We need to talk about things.’
It had to be about Terry and the bloody memorial service. She could see the seriousness on Hannah’s face as she leaned forward and linked her hands together. ‘Okay,’ Gina replied as she bit her bottom lip.
‘I’ve managed to save most of the money for Dad’s service. It doesn’t seem a lot, but with Gracie and all, I have three hundred pounds. I can get everything in, including a little buffet at the pub after, for six hundred. Mum, please give me the rest. He wasn’t just my father, he was your husband. Don’t you care? He’s been gone twenty years. He’d be fifty this week.’ Hannah looked away.
Gina’s stomach dropped. The flickering of the fire seemed distorted and she felt a chill tickling her neck. Yes, Terry had been Hannah’s father, in a biological sense. But they were talking about the same Terry who would probably have killed Gina had he still been alive; the man who subjected her to levels of brutality and control that people only experience in captivity, in a war zone. The last thing she wanted to do was remember him and the birthday he was missing out on. She reached for her chest, aware of each and every one of her bones, and flinched.
‘Are you even listening to me?’
Gracie grabbed a strand of hair that had fallen over Gina’s face and tugged. She teased the hair from the little girl’s hand and turned away. ‘I’ll give it to you, all of it. Six hundred pounds, is it?’
‘Thank you. That would really help me at the moment. I’d like a decent remembrance for him. I’ve invited Nanny Hetty and Uncle Steven and the rest of the clan. They miss him, you know. I would’ve asked them for the money but Uncle Steven hasn’t worked for years with his bad back and Hetty is on a pension. Both of them have nothing. You have a good job—’
‘Look. I think the service is a good idea but I can’t be there. I’m sorry, Hannah, but I can’t.’ Gina felt a tear begin to seep from the corner of her eye. She couldn’t go through all that with his family again. She wanted to scream, to tell Hannah that Terry’s funeral had been one of the oddest days of her life. She remembered how drunk she’d allowed herself to get during the wake, slowly celebrating his end and drowning her guilt with gallons of wine. No one could explain her odd behaviour that day. It hadn’t stopped bloody Uncle Steven speculating though. She remembered hearing him whispering to another one of his knuckle-dragging relatives. He’d been spreading rumours that she’d been having an affair, that’s why his Terry had to keep a close eye on her. If only that were the truth.