Page 9 of Don't Believe A Word

‘Then don’t look,’ he said, and planting a hand over her face he pulled Cristy to him. ‘Happy New Year,’ he whispered against her lips.

‘Happy New Year,’ she echoed, yielding to the kiss. Then pulling back she searched his eyes. She could find nothing duplicitous in them, no trace of guilt or anger or of wanting to be elsewhere. Even so, she couldn’t help noticing that along with the scent of cool night air and his own musky cologne there was a trace of Juliette’s distinctiveeau de parfum.

CHAPTER THREE

‘She’s asleep,’ Lottie said quietly, as she came down the creaking wooden stairs.

Mia was standing at the bottom, her expression torn between concern and fear, her slim hands clutched tightly together. She was a worrier, always had been and always would be. It irritated Lottie; however, on this occasion she was ready to concede that her sister had good reason to feel anxious.

‘What are we going to do?’ Mia asked, following Lottie along the hall into the kitchen where the remains of a beans on toast tea with orange squash and squishy marshmallows were still on the vinyl-covered table. It wasn’t a large kitchen – nothing about the house was large, which had actually been its greatest charm when they were small, coming here with their grandparents. It could hardly have provided a greater contrast to their parents’ five-storey, Regency townhouse in the heart of Kensington.

‘She’s been here for three days now,’ Mia stated, as Lottie started to clear the table.

‘Yes, I know that.’ Lottie’s back was turned as she ran hot water into the sink and squirted in a short stream of Fairy Liquid. She almost never did any washing-up, at least not here in England. When she was on the ground in places of suffering and severe hardship she turned her hand to just about anything. Tonight she was finding the process pleasingly therapeutic in a ‘clean everything off ready to start again’ sort of way.

‘You’re planning to keep her, aren’t you?’ Mia blurted.

Unfazed, Lottie said, ‘It’s what we’ve been asked to do.’

Mia grabbed a tea towel and started to dry. ‘Why hasn’t anyone come looking for her?’ she demanded, as if her indignance couldsomehow justify the fact that they hadn’t reported the child missing themselves when they both knew they should have. ‘There hasn’t been anything on the news and we haven’t even seen anyone since you brought her up from the beach. It doesn’t make any sense.’

Lottie was perfectly aware of that, although it clearly made sense to someone, somewhere.

For the past three days they’d waited expectantly, fearfully even, for a knock on the door, either from whoever had written the note, or maybe from the police, but so far no one had come near the place. So how long were they supposed to care for the child? Would someone contact them again soon? It was as if time was standing still, holding its breath, waiting to find out what would happen next, and into the void tumbled all sorts of crazy scenarios. At least for Lottie. She wasn’t entirely sure what Mia was thinking from one minute to the next, but that was Mia – no sooner had she had a thought, than it was changed with the passing wind.

Yesterday Mia had driven into town to buy the child clothes and toys and books to crayon in, while Lottie had stayed behind helping small fingers to piece together a jigsaw they’d found in the cellar. At least no one, when they eventually came for her, would be able to say she hadn’t been well taken care of. Exactly how they were going to explain not contacting the authorities as soon as they’d found her was an awkwardness they’d deal with when, if, they had to.

‘Mrs B is due tomorrow,’ Mia stated, as if Lottie wasn’t already aware of that.

Their housekeeper, Gita Brinkley, was a sweet-natured woman of Indian origin who wasn’t much good at cleaning or laundry, but boy could she cook. She lived in an old fisherman’s cottage on the outskirts of the nearby town, drove a noisy Mini, helped organize events for the local WI and took care of pets when their owners were away. Her husband, Charles, was, as far as Lottie and Mia could make out, usually drunk by the middle of the day. Poor Mrs B, she deserved so much better.

‘What are we going to tell her about …?’ Mia asked, glancing towards the ceiling as though to remind Lottie of who was up there.

‘Do you have any ideas?’ Lottie countered, handing over a soapy plate.

Taking it, Mia said, ‘Actually, I have. I was thinking we could say that she’s our niece come to stay for a while.’

Lottie turned to her, eyebrows arched incredulously. ‘And when her mother or some other relative comes looking for her, what then?’

Mia shrugged. ‘Maybe no one will,’ she ventured, and Lottie knew exactly what was in her mind now. Hadn’t she been thinking the same herself? Wasn’t it why they’d already started to call the child Sadie instead of Sasha? Nothing had been said about that, Lottie couldn’t even be sure who’d used the name first, it was simply something they’d slipped into, and the dear little soul was going along with it.

Having now voiced her greatest hope, Mia’s heart was floating in waves of dreamy expectation of how life could be going forward. There would be so much more of the joy they’d shared in the last few days, Sadie’s sweet face watching their every move, and the music of her laughter when Mia tickled her. She liked to jump and play peek-a-boo, and she was learning to set her own place at the table. She didn’t make a fuss when it was time for bed and she loved listening to stories, often gazing up at Mia or Lottie as they spoke the words softly until she finally fell asleep. She even sat quietly when Lottie brushed the tangles from her golden hair. Of course she cried for her mummy, it was only to be expected, but she allowed herself to be comforted with the promise that ‘Mummy will come soon.’ No one had mentioned Daddy.

Lottie suddenly said, ‘Let’s agree that we’re developing a fondness for her, and it’s nothing to be ashamed of when she’s a little angel. I just wish we knew why someone put her into our care, and why they did it in such a … furtive and dangerous way when they could simply have brought her to the door.’

‘If they had we wouldn’t have accepted her,’ Mia pointed out. ‘I mean, how could we when we know nothing about her, or the people she’s been with until now? Do you think it was her parents?’

‘How on earth would I know?’

‘She’s said “Mummy” a few times,’ Mia pointed out.

Lottie wasn’t listening. ‘Maybe the person you saw running away had stolen her,’ she said, ‘that’s why they didn’t want to be seen.’

Mia shook her head. ‘I think it was her mother. She waited until she knew we had her before she ran.’

Lottie’s hands stilled in the dishwater as she continued to think. ‘Should we be actively trying to find out who she is?’ she asked, knowing of course that they should. ‘Or do we just keep her here until someone comes?’

‘I say the latter,’ Mia replied. ‘I mean, we don’t know if she’s in danger from someone and I think she probably is, that’s why she’s here, to be kept safe.’

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