She stepped into Leila’s bedroom and in the half-light couldn’t see a lump in the bed. She flicked on the main light. The bed covers were thrown back and the bed was empty. Where the hell was she? ‘Leila!’ she cried, an edge of panic in her voice. Perhaps she was asleep in Kelsey’s bed, although she’d never done that before.
Kelsey took the couple of steps down the hall to her own bedroom and switched on the light. Her bed was empty too, and just as she’d left it after getting the pig out: crumpled and with the bottom sheet spotted with her blood. But where was Leila? Ridiculously, Kelsey crossed to the wardrobe to see if Leila was in there. Sometimes, when it was just the two of them, she hid in there as a game and then jumped out to scare her mother, but not at 3.30 a.m. She opened the wardrobe door to find it empty apart from Kelsey’s miserable selection of clothes.
‘Leila!’ she called again. ‘Where the hell are you?’ The only room she hadn’t looked in was the bathroom and she needed a piss more than ever now.
Opening the bathroom door, she pulled on the light cord. It was obvious straight away Leila wasn’t in there, and from the look of it she hadn’t used the bathroom the previous evening. There was no towel or face flannel dumped in the bath and her toothbrush was dry. What the hell was the kid playing at?
Kelsey took a piss, the warm stream of urine giving her some relief. Once she’d finished, she checked the kid’s bedroom again and then the living room, as if by magic Leila might suddenly have reappeared. There was nowhere else in the flat she could be. Had she been back at all yesterday after she’d left for school in the morning? Kelsey wondered. She couldn’t remember but didn’t think so. There was no sign of food having been eaten and her school bag wasn’t here. So where the hell was she?
Kelsey picked up her phone and checked the texts again. There were no new messages and anyway Leila didn’t have a phone of her own. According to the school, kids her age weren’t old enough to have phones. Kelsey had gone along with it because she needed to do what the school said, as they sent a report to the social services every term – not just about Leila, but about Kelsey’s parenting skills: things like if Leila was on time and looked clean, with her hair brushed. Well, this just showed how much they knew! Her daughter was missing and she had no way of contacting her! She should have followed her gut instinct and given Leila a phone. She could have kept it in her bag for emergency use only, although deep down Kelsey knew the temptation to show her friends or text in class would have been too great.
As the last of the numbing effect of the coke and vodka completely disappeared it was replaced by the depressing realization that her daughter hadn’t come home, and instead of getting into bed Kelsey was now going to have to go out and look for her. How thoughtless was that!
Annoyed and irritated, Kelsey picked up her leather jacket from the clutter on the floor of the living room, tucked her keys and phone into her pocket and left the flat with a feeling of self-righteousness. This was what good mothers did if their kids were missing, wasn’t it? Go out on a cold night and look for them. Even so, she didn’t think she’d be telling the social worker what had happened.
It was freezing; a frost had settled and she could see her breath in the air. Leila wouldn’t be outside in this for sure. She hated the cold and was always complaining her coat wasn’t warm enough. Perhaps she was staying the night at a friend’s house. That’s what kids her age did, Kelsey thought. They had sleepovers, although Leila had never been invited to one before, and if she was sleeping at a friend’s house why hadn’t the parents phoned to let Kelsey know? Perhaps Leila had pretended she’d told her and was now teaching her a lesson for being a crap mother. Yes, that fitted. It seemed a reasonable assumption. Had she known who her daughter’s friends were she could have phoned them and checked Leila was there. But she didn’t have a clue who her daughter associated with or even if she had any friends. The kid just got on with her life as she had to.
Kelsey continued across the estate, which was poorly lit and now eerily quiet in the early hours of the morning. She was still half-expecting Leila to suddenly appear, perhaps having been watching her from one of the flats. She looked up at the windows she passed for any sign of a child looking out, but nearly all the flats were in darkness, and no face appeared. A police siren sounded in the distance and a lone dog barked. The cold was seeping through her clothes and into her bones, making her miserable and her teeth chatter.
Suddenly she needed to crap. That was the trouble with coke: it gave you the squits that couldn’t be ignored. Ducking behind a wall where the refuse bins were kept, Kelsey squatted down, did her business, then took a tissue from her jacket pocket and wiped her bum. Straightening, she zipped up her jeans and continued to search the estate for her daughter.
Kelsey had known all along that at some point she was going to have to knock on Gawping Goodman’s door. If Leila wasn’t there, Goodman would probably know where to find her. Her maisonette looked straight onto the play area where the kids gathered. Goodman spent most of her waking hours looking out, and she knew better than most of the parents on the estate where their kids were and what they were up to. If the police came looking for someone or if there’d been an incident on the estate, they usually asked Goodman if she had any information, and she was always pleased to assist. When a teenage girl fell pregnant, which they did quite regularly around here, Goodman knew first, and who the father was, long before anyone else did, even the girl’s mother. As well as being the eyes of the estate, she was also its ears. The kids seemed to confide in her, probably because there was no one at home to listen to their problems. Granny Goodman, the kids called her, while the adults – resenting but needing her help – called her plenty of other things.
Kelsey continued along the perimeter road that ran all around the edge of the estate and saw no one. Feeling she’d done everything she could, she retraced her steps. As she approached the play area she was sure she could smell the dump she’d taken earlier lingering in the cold night air. Goodman’s maisonette was in darkness and her curtains were closed, but as usual the porch light was on. The old bat made a point of leaving it on every night, telling the kids it was a light in their darkness, a beacon of hope for them to come to, or some such rubbish.
Kelsey stared at the doorbell, reluctant to press it. She was sure to get a lecture before the witch told her where Leila was. She didn’t think she could stomach it right now. She was tired, cold and hungry and she needed to find Leila and get into bed. With a small flash of hope she checked her phone again, but there were no new messages. The time showed 4 a.m. She glanced up at her own flat on the other side of the play area – the lights were on as she’d left them. She wondered if Leila could have returned in her absence, but realistically the chances of that were slim. And if she had returned, she would have used the landline to call her to find out where she was. Kelsey either had to press Gawping Goodman’s doorbell and listen to her lecture, or tell her sister or the police that she couldn’t find Leila. She didn’t fancy doing either. Sharon would be even more angry and holier-than-thou than the last time, and the police were sure to notify the social services, who would take Leila away from her. Leila had a habit of disappearing, but she always turned up eventually.
Shivering from the cold and with mounting nausea, Kelsey pressed the doorbell. A Big Ben chime rang pretentiously in the hall. She waited but not for long. The net curtain in the window beside the door twitched and Goodman peered out. She must have been awake.
‘Open up,’ Kelsey mouthed, pointing at the door. ‘I need to talk to you.’
Goodman rolled her eyes disapprovingly and let the curtain drop. A moment later the door chain rattled, a bolt slid and the door opened. Goodman, wearing a floral fleece dressing gown buttoned up to her neck and with her grey hair clipped down for the night, didn’t try to hide her censorious expression. Kelsey forced herself to stay calm and not give her a mouthful. She needed her help.
‘Yes?’ the old bat asked. ‘What do you want at this time of night, Kelsey?’
‘Is Leila with you?’
‘No, she isn’t. Children rarely stay overnight. Their parents come to collect them eventually.’
‘Do you know where she is?’
‘No.’
‘Did you see her yesterday?’
‘Yes, in the evening when she should have been at home.’ Here we go, Kelsey thought. Just stay calm. ‘You never learn, do you, Kelsey? God was kind enough to bless you with children. And you have wasted his precious gift. Women like you don’t deserve kids. If I had my way, I’d—’
It was too much for Kelsey in her fragile state. ‘Will you shut the fuck up and tell me where Leila is? I’m not feeling well and I’m worried about her.’
‘Really?’ Goodman asked cynically.
‘Yes, really.’
‘And you honestly can’t remember where she is?’
‘No. Sorry. It seems to have slipped my mind,’ Kelsey snapped sarcastically
‘Your bloke took her. Well, I assume that’s who he was.’
‘My bloke? What are you talking about?’ Kelsey stared at her.
‘Your new fancy man, latest boyfriend, client, whatever you call him. He came to the play area around six-fifteen and took her. Just as well, otherwise the poor child would have been there all night for all you care.’
Kelsey continued to stare at her, trying to make sense of what she was being told.
‘A man took my Leila?’ she asked, shivering.
‘And you can’t remember!’
‘Who was he?’
‘I don’t know. I can’t be expected to keep track of all your fancy men.’
‘He’s not my fancy man!’ Kelsey exploded. ‘Will you stop saying that! You’re doing my head in. I didn’t send anyone to collect Leila.’
Mrs Goodman held Kelsey’s gaze. ‘You wouldn’t know even if you had. You’re so out of it most of the time. I can’t help you and I’m getting cold standing here. Go home. I’m sure your daughter is being looked after by him. Goodnight.’ The door closed.
FOUR
Pulling her jacket closer around her to keep out the cold, Kelsey headed back across the dark, deserted play area towards her flat. Leila had gone with a man – her boyfriend, the old witch had said – but Kelsey didn’t have a boyfriend. She hadn’t sent anyone to collect Leila, she was sure of it. Or was she? Goodman knew most things and the old cow was usually right. Kelsey knew her own mind was so messed up from years of drink and drug abuse that she forgot stuff all the time. But could she really have forgotten that she’d asked someone to fetch Leila from the play area? Was it possible? Yes, her brain was in such a state, she had to admit it was.
As Kelsey walked, she struggled to think back, but once she’d started on the coke and vodka her mind had become blank. That was the point of it – to block out her miserable life and make things seem better for a while. She remembered she had vaguely heard a man’s voice in the distance and Leila laughing, but it was all indistinct, like in a dream. She hated to admit it, but Gawping Goodman was probably right. Hopefully Leila had now returned to their flat or was being looked after by the man who’d collected her. But who was he? Certainly not Leila’s father. He’d disappeared as soon as she’d told him she was pregnant. And hadn’t she searched the flat before she’d come out? Perhaps she hadn’t searched it properly.
The lift doors clanged shut, reverberating down the empty corridor, and the lift began to rise with a harsh grating noise. A printed notice inside the lift asked residents not to use the lift late at night or early in the morning as it woke others, but there was no way Kelsey was going to climb three flights of stairs in her state. Exhausted, with her head throbbing and feeling sick, she just needed to get into her bed. The lift juddered to a halt and the doors opened. For a moment as she went down the corridor towards her flat she wondered why she’d been out at all, then she remembered.
‘Leila?’ she called as she let herself into her flat. ‘Are you here?’
Silence. She checked her bedroom, then Leila’s room, then the bathroom and living room. There was no one here. No man and no Leila, so the old witch Goodman was wrong! Now what? She hadn’t a clue. She wondered if she should be really worried as Leila was still missing, but she didn’t think it was necessary just yet. Goodman had said a man had taken her, but it had to be someone Leila knew because she would never have gone off with a stranger. She was too streetwise and savvy for that.
But where was she? Who knew Kelsey well enough to do her a favour like that? Their immediate neighbours were both single mothers. Brooke Adams, who lived in the flat to the right of hers, had helped her out in the past, but she’d said she wouldn’t do it again and had told Kelsey to get herself sorted before it was too late.
Kelsey flopped on the sofa and tried to think of someone who might have collected Leila from the play area and could now be looking after her. No one came to mind. Bone weary – it was now 4.30 a.m. – she rested her head back on the sofa and closed her eyes. She could really have done with a smoke, but she didn’t have anything apart from the remaining gram of coke and she was saving that for later. If she used it now, she’d have nothing to look forward to. She’d save it for as long as she could.
But what to do about Leila? Perhaps the man who was looking after her would return her soon. Or maybe he would take her directly to school in the morning. That’s what Brooke had done. She’d seen Leila alone in the play area, collected her, and then pushed a note through Kelsey’s door to say Leila was there with her and that she’d give her breakfast and take her to school with her own kids the following morning. No one had been any the wiser, but after that Brooke had said enough was enough and that she wouldn’t do it again. Next time, she’d said, she’d report her to the social services for neglect.
Kelsey sat upright with a jolt. Of course. That’s what had happened! She should have realized sooner. She wasn’t so daft after all. Brooke had seen Leila in the play area and had reported her to the social services. The man who’d taken Leila was their social worker, Peter Harris. That’s why Leila had gone with him: she knew him. Too fucking well – from all his visits, the interfering git. But this was solvable.
Peter had taken Leila and put her with a foster carer for the night like they’d done with her other kids when they’d been living with her. By tomorrow she’d have to come up with an excuse for Leila being out late on the estate. She’d phone Peter as soon as the office opened at 9 a.m. and go on the attack. Blast him for taking Leila without telling her and all the worry he’d caused her. She’d threaten to report him, for she knew that not even a social worker could take a child without informing the parents. He wouldn’t want more aggravation from her, and Leila would be sent home. Problem sorted, Kelsey now felt she could stop worrying and go to bed.
What the hell was that? Ringing? She’d only just dropped off to sleep. Was it the doorbell or her phone making that bloody noise? It couldn’t be her client, Alan, already, could it? What was the time?
Kelsey struggled up in bed as her phone stopped ringing and bleeped with a text message. She reached for her leather jacket, which was dumped on the floor where she’d left it, and took out her phone. There was a missed call and a text telling her she had a voicemail message. The time on her phone showed 9.30 a.m. Drat. She’d overslept. She’d intended to phone the social services at 9.00 but she hadn’t yet come up with a reason for Leila being out so late. Best wait until she’d had a strong black coffee to get her brain into gear, she thought.
Getting out of bed, Kelsey pulled on her jumper over her bra and pants and padded barefoot to the kitchen, retrieving the voicemail message as she went.
‘Mrs Smith, it’s the school secretary here. Leila isn’t in school. Can you phone us and confirm she is unwell? Otherwise we’ll have to mark it as an unauthorized absence.’
Kelsey stopped where she was and replayed the message, thinking she might have misheard. But she hadn’t. Leila wasn’t in school. That was strange. In the past the foster carer had taken her children to school unless they were ill or had played up and refused to go. Whatever. The social worker should have told her – the parent – Leila was in care.
Five minutes and a cup of black coffee later, Kelsey sat on the sofa and called Peter Harris’s office number. The caffeine had given her the boost she needed, and, fired up and aware of her rights, she was ready for a fight.
‘Peter Harris, children’s services,’ he said, answering straight away.
‘It’s Kelsey Smith here.’
‘Hello, Kelsey. How are you doing?’
‘I was doing all right until you stuck your nosy beak in. Lots of kids play out. I’ve told you before I can see Leila from my flat window so I can keep an eye on her.’
‘Kelsey, can you calm down and tell me what’s happened?’ Peter said in a conciliatory tone that infuriated Kelsey even more.
‘You stuck your bleeding nose in and took my Leila! That’s what’s happened! I’ve been doing all right until now. You’d no business taking her without telling me. I want her back with an apology or I’m reporting you.’
There was a moment’s pause before he said, ‘Kelsey, I haven’t seen Leila since I visited you both four weeks ago. Are you saying you don’t know where she is?’
Kelsey went cold. She’d been certain he’d taken Leila and put her with a foster carer. ‘Of course I know where she is,’ she said, and cut the call.
If Peter Harris hadn’t taken Leila then who the hell had? Suddenly Kelsey was very worried, very worried indeed.
FIVE
Leila was scared. What had started off yesterday as a sort of game wasn’t fun any more. She was thinking she really shouldn’t have gone along with it. But he’d been so nice at the start – kind and caring. He’d said he was worried about her and told her she was pretty. Her mother called her plain. He’d said a young girl like her shouldn’t be out all by herself after dark. It wasn’t safe and it was very wrong of her mother not to look after her properly, which Leila sort of knew. He’d said he would take care of her and together they’d teach her mother a lesson. He’d given her chocolates – really posh ones with soft centres – and told her he’d bought her a beautiful doll and it was waiting for her in his flat. It wasn’t like she was going with a stranger – she would never have done that. She knew him, so did her mother, which made it OK.
His flat was warm and tidy – not like hers – and to begin with it had all felt really cosy and nice. He’d talked to her about the bad life she’d led with her mother and how he could put it right. She deserved much better, he’d said: pretty clothes, good food, holidays and a visit to Disneyland, all of which he’d promised would happen if she did as he said.
But when she hadn’t liked the dinner he’d cooked and asked for chicken nuggets and chips instead, he’d got moody and raised his voice, which frightened her. ‘You can’t keep eating that muck! It’s bad for you,’ he’d yelled. ‘From now on you’ll eat proper meals, the ones I give you, and you’ll be grateful.’ She’d gone quiet and said she wanted to go home, so he’d apologized and said it was early days yet, and he had a lot to learn.
Now Leila sat on the bed and held Buttons, her teddy bear, very tightly to her chest. Colin had gone out this morning and left her locked in the bedroom. He’d told her it was very important she kept quiet and that no one must find her here or she’d be in very big trouble. That the social services would take her away like they had her older half-brothers and -sisters and she’d never see her mother again.
She believed him, but she hated being locked in. It was like at home when she had to lock herself in her bedroom when her mother brought men back, so they didn’t hurt her. They hurt her mother and would hurt her too if they got a chance, her mother told her. She tried to be out when her mother had men in, but that wasn’t always possible, so she slid the bolt her mother had fitted on her bedroom door. But that bolt was on the inside of the door, so she could open it if she wanted to. This one was on the outside, so she was locked in. Trapped. Colin had bolted the door when he’d left for work and said he would unlock it when he returned. It was for her own good, he said, but it didn’t feel like it.
Anxious and sad, Leila propped herself on the pillow and picked at the loose threads of the bedspread. It was an old-fashioned bedspread like the ones at Granny Goodman’s. The furniture in the room was old too, and so was the bed. It creaked every time she’d turned over in the night and the pillow smelt of old people. Perhaps someone had died here, she thought with a shudder, and threw the pillow on the floor. It narrowly missed the potty. She’d already had to do a wee in it once, although she hadn’t wanted to. Potties were for babies and she was a big girl, as her mother kept telling her. She’d held on to her wee for as long as she dared, until she’d been bursting and her stomach had ached. Then she’d been so desperate she’d missed the potty and some of her wee had gone on the floor. She hoped Colin wouldn’t be angry like her mother was when she made a mess. There wasn’t anything in the room to mop it up with.
Leila was hungry but the sandwich he’d left for her smelt horrible. Salmon and cucumber. Yuck. She pushed it off the bed and its contents spilled over the floor. She’d eaten the crisps he’d left and drunk the juice, but she was still hungry. If she’d been at school she would have been given a school dinner, and if she’d been at home she could have gone to the chip shop. Her mother didn’t care what she ate, not like Colin. He seemed to fuss over food and what he called ‘good hygiene practice’, which involved him repeatedly washing his hands, the work surface in the kitchen and the chopping board. She’d had to wash her hands too before she ate.
He’d left her puzzles, games and books to keep her amused while he was out at work, but they too were now scattered across the floor. She’d tried to do a puzzle but had quickly lost patience and given up, and she never read books or played games. She watched television when she was at home and the hours whizzed by, but now time was dragging. She wondered what her class was doing at school. She didn’t like school but at least the time passed quickly there and she wasn’t locked in and had a hot meal – food she liked.
With mounting frustration and anger, Leila picked up the doll Colin had bought her and threw it on the floor with the other stuff. It landed head down with a nasty crunch, its china face shattering. Leila stared, horrified. Colin had said it was expensive and he’d chosen it especially for her. She’d have to lie and say it was an accident. It was no loss to her. She hadn’t liked it anyway. She loved Buttons, her teddy bear. She talked to him and told him things she couldn’t tell anyone else. Buttons went with her everywhere. She’d had him for as long as she could remember and called him Buttons because he had two rows of buttons on his coat that she liked to undo and do up again.
Suddenly the doorbell rang and she froze. Had someone heard the doll smashing on the floor? Keep calm, she told herself. She knew what to do if someone came to the door. Colin had shown her and made her practice, reminding her of the consequences if she didn’t do as he said. Now this was for real! The doorbell rang again. Grabbing Buttons by the arm, Leila slid quietly from the bed and then climbed into the storage compartment beneath it. She drew the sliding door to and kept very still and quiet. Colin had said no one else had keys to his flat, so hiding was a precautionary measure to keep her safe. She was to do this whenever anyone came to the door, whether he was in or not.
