How long might she have been secretly drinking, he wondered. What might have precipitated it, caused her to reach for alcohol as a crutch, as she had done once before? He had no way of knowing. If only he’d been aware, been paying attention, then maybe, just maybe, he could have done something to help her.
Mel stirred a little in his arms. No more than that. Mark moved closer, pressing a soft kiss to her cheek, and then dragging a hand across his face to wipe a salty tear from his own.
Thirty
JADE
For God’s sake! What now? Jade was halfway through a phone conversation with drippy Dylan, who was fretting about the girl, who apparently looked ‘sickly’, when she heard the commotion from the other end of the landing. Storming from her room, she only just managed to wipe the scowl from her face as Mark emerged from his bedroom. Looking worse for wear after his horrendous night out with his mental wife, followed by two sizeable whiskies, precious little sleep, and obviously panic-stricken, he hadn’t bothered pulling on anything but his tracksuit bottoms.
Appreciating the view, Jade turned the flash off on her phone and took a photo to inspect more thoroughly at leisure, and then bolted after him as Mark headed for Poppy’s room, where the child was howling like a banshee.
‘Poppy? What on earth?’ Mark faltered inside the bedroom door, clearly bewildered. Jade, one step behind – and contemplating poisoning the dog, who was emitting a low growl at the sight of her – could see why.
‘What’s happened, Poppy?’ Concerned, as obviously he would be, Mark walked over to where Poppy was sitting cross-legged in the middle of the bed, cradling the goldfish bowl.
‘Nemo’s died,’ Poppy wailed, dragging an arm under her snotty nose as she looked up at him. ‘He’s floating on the water. He’s dead, Daddy. He’s dead!’
Little brat. She’d make her eat the fucking fish for breakfast. Seething quietly in the doorway, Jade noted the foul-smelling water had soaked through Poppy’s nightie and into the duvet beneath her, which would now have to be washed by yours truly, with Melissa about as much use as a fart in a spacesuit.
‘Hey, hey. Come on, Poppet.’ Mark joined her on the bed, wrapping an arm around her and kissing the top of her head. It was such a tender gesture, Jade couldn’t resist taking another photo. ‘Let me take a look,’ Mark gently cajoled her. ‘He might just be sleeping.’
‘He’s not sleeping!’ Fresh tears sprang from Poppy’s eyes. ‘He’s dead!’
Nodding understandingly, Mark squeezed her closer and then reached into the water.
Ugh. Jade recoiled as the slimy fish floated onto the palm of his hand. She watched in wonder as Mark blew softly on it. He really was the nicest, kindest person she’d ever known. He looked a bit crestfallen when it didn’t twitch so much as a fin, despite several attempts at resuscitation.
‘I think he might be, sweetheart,’ he eventually conceded, with a sympathetic sigh. ‘I’m guessing that means God must have wanted him for Baby Jesus’ aquarium.’
Mark looked down at Poppy, shrugging sadly.
Judging by the stubborn little crease in her forehead, though, Poppy wasn’t buying it. ‘But why does God want him for baby Jesus’ aquirum?’ She looked querulously up at him.
To feed the five thousand, thought Jade, mentally rolling her eyes – though she had to admire Mark’s ingenuity.
‘Because…’ Stopping, Mark furrowed his brow, clearly struggling for what to say next.
‘Because Baby Jesus’ aquarium is the ocean,’ Jade supplied, as he glanced helplessly in her direction.
Poppy looked towards her, blinking huge, hopeful eyes.
‘One of the walls of his nursery is made of glass,’ Jade went on, walking across to kneel in front of her, rather than perch on the side of the wet bed. ‘He watches over the fish to make sure all the lost little ones find their mummies and daddies and swim in fish heaven together forever.’
Poppy looked, awestruck, from Jade to Mark and back again. ‘Like Dory? She found her mummy and daddy,’ she whispered, and warming to the idea, judging by her expression.
‘Just like Dory.’ Mark smiled at Jade, looking hugely relieved.
‘They based the film on it, didn’t they, Mark?’ Her heart skipping a beat at the warmth in his decadent chocolate-brown eyes, Jade got to her feet before she melted in front of him.
‘Yup.’ Mark played along perfectly. ‘It’s a true story.’
Poppy looked up at him and then to Jade – her wide eyes so trusting, it could almost be touching. ‘Will you help me bury him, Jade?’
‘Of course I will,’ Jade promised with a reassuring smile. ‘I’ll just go and see to Evie first.’ She indicated the nursery, beyond the door of which Evie was crying, having woken up far too early.
‘And I’d better see to you, young lady.’ Mark placed the fish carefully back into the bowl and got to his feet. ‘We’ll leave him there for now, where he’s safe,’ he said, reaching to relieve Poppy of the bowl.
Parking it on the dressing table on the opposite wall, he gave Jade a conspiratorial wink as she headed for the door. Something deep within her swooped in response. Mark turned back to his daughter, who, in Jade’s opinion, was demanding far more of his time than was healthy. ‘Come on, Poppet, up we come,’ he said, plucking her up from the bed. ‘We can’t send Nemo to fish heaven wearing a wet nightie, can we? Arms up,’ he instructed, giving Jade another photo opportunity as he tugged the soggy nightie up over Poppy’s head.
Jade didn’t particularly want a wriggling, shivering, naked child in the photo, but with Mark’s state of undress… How was a girl to resist? And Mark might like the photos, she supposed, later, should Poppy no longer be around.
Humming happily, she turned to the nursery, nipping deftly inside when she glimpsed Melissa stumbling from the main bedroom. Jade shuddered as she closed the door. Bleary-eyed and white-faced, and with her bleached blonde hair scarily all over the place, the woman looked like something the cat had dragged in. She thought fleetingly of the feline fleabag they’d assumed was hers. She really hoped Dylan didn’t get it into his head to go poking around in the depths of his freezer. Preferring his mummy’s home-cooking to his own culinary disasters, he wasn’t likely to, and she had wrapped her parcel securely, first in polythene, then a carrier bag, before finally sealing it in a Perspex box and marking it Baby Milk. She’d told him it was imperative the box wasn’t opened until the milk was ready to use, but still, she really ought to move it soon.
Jade hurried across to lift Evie from her cot. ‘Hello, my gorgeous baby girl.’ She flashed her a smile. ‘Let’s get you changed and fed, shall we? We don’t want silly Melissa interfering, do we, Angel? No, we do not.’ Jade’s smile widened as, clearly delighted to see her, Evie chuckled gleefully and gave her a gummy grin.
Catching one excitedly flailing hand, Jade cradled her in the crook of her arm and pressed a kiss to her tiny fingers. ‘We want her gone, don’t we, my precious?’ she whispered. ‘Out of our lives forever and ever.’
Thirty-One
MARK
The local search for Daisy had now been widened, concentrating on woodland, orchards, beer factories and cider mills. Mark, meanwhile, was painstakingly going through historical maps and small-scale ordnance surveys, looking for abandoned buildings with basement access and properties that might no longer exist above ground level, in particular those with concealed septic tanks, or any conceivable place that might be used to secrete a small body.