Chapter 48
48
GEMMA
I almost fell back inside the house, tears spurting from my eyes, letting out a scream of protest as I flew around the house one more time, opening and slamming doors and cupboards, not knowing what I was doing it for. It was a waste of time, I knew Poppy wasn’t here. I knew Crystal had taken her. Where? Why? How long had they been gone?
Calm down, Gemma, calm down, this isn’t helping. You need to think.
I grabbed my phone, hit Crystal’s number and pressed call, letting it ring until it stopped ringing out, then starting again, with the same result.
Shit , I thought, my panic increasing. If she’s not answering, it can only be because she’s guilty – she really has taken Poppy against her will, she’s kidnapped her, she’s going to take her abroad and I’ll never get her back…
I sat down for a moment, trying to slow my breathing, trying to make myself think logically. But I kept coming back to the fact that she’d taken her in her car, with no car seat. How could she do that – she was a mother herself; it was unforgiveable! When did she set off? It was impossible to know. Perhaps she went in the early hours of the morning – waited for me to go to sleep and then got Poppy out of bed, dressed her and slipped out of the house under the cover of darkness.
She could have been anywhere by now. She could have been on her way to London, or… to an airport. I felt sick, just at the thought of it.
I ran upstairs to Poppy’s room again, flung open her wardrobe and searched amongst her clothes. Her warmest jumper, a favourite purple one, was missing and so were the hated blue patchwork dungarees.
Nobody but Crystal would pair purple with blue , I thought, as if it even mattered. I wondered why I’d automatically checked to see what she’d dressed Poppy in – and then I realised: if I needed to call the police, they’d want to know what she was wearing. That thought made me sob aloud with fear. Did I need to call the police? What would I say? I think my best friend has abducted my child ?
I sat down on Poppy’s bed, my head in my hands. I needed my mum. She’d help me; she’d know what to do. I ran back downstairs to get my phone, to call her, to beg her to come round right away – but when I picked it up from where I’d stupidly left it on the kitchen table, I saw I’d had a missed call. How had I not heard it? I must have been sobbing too loudly while I crashed around in Poppy’s bedroom searching through her clothes. And it was Crystal’s number. I had to lean against the wall to stop myself from collapsing while I hit her number to call her back.
‘You called me,’ she said, cheerfully. ‘Sorry I missed?—’
‘Where are you?’ I shouted. ‘Where the fuck have you taken my daughter?’
There was silence. Had she hung up? I felt the room spin – I was close to losing control. Then I became aware that not only was I still connected, but there was background noise on the line: people chatting, music playing, a child’s voice.
‘Poppy!’ I said, clutching the phone closer as if I were actually holding onto her. ‘Are you there? Can you hear me?’
‘Gemma, it’s me,’ came Crystal’s voice again. ‘Are you all right? What’s the matter? Has something happened?’
‘ What’s the matter ?’ I repeated. ‘Are you joking? You’ve got Poppy. Where have you taken her?’
Another pause. Heavy breathing. I was just about to shout again when she replied, quietly, ‘Did you not read my note?’
‘Note?’ I couldn’t help it – I was repeating everything she said, like an echo. ‘What note?’
‘The one I left, this morning, to tell you I was taking Poppy out for breakfast. To give you a break.’
‘You…?’ I looked around the kitchen. ‘You left me a note? Where ?’
‘I slid it under your bedroom door. So you’d see it right away, as soon as you got up. So you wouldn’t worry.’
I started running up the stairs, wrenching open the bedroom door, still holding the phone, still talking, still angry.
‘Why a note, for God’s sake, why not a text, a WhatsApp?—’
‘I didn’t want your phone to beep and wake you up. I don’t know if you have it on silent at night or not. Have you found the?—?’
‘Yes.’ I was standing in my bedroom doorway, holding onto the door, breathing heavily. There was a crumpled piece of paper just inside. I’d obviously trodden on it in my haste to get up. My haste to see if Poppy was all right. I opened it… and there was the scrawl of Crystal’s writing, just as she’d said, telling me she was taking Poppy out for a breakfast treat and would be back in an hour or so.
‘You took my daughter in your car,’ I said, anger rising now to take the place of my shock. ‘With no car seat?—’
‘I’ve got one. From Evie. It’s still in the car, it’s the right size, she was fine.’
‘Right.’ I felt behind me for the bed. I needed to sit down again: relief had made me weak. And then, suddenly, the rage came back.
‘But even so! How could you do that to me?’ I shouted into the phone, bursting into tears at the same time. ‘A note, a stupid bit of paper that I walked over, it’s just not enough – I didn’t say you could take Poppy out! This is exactly what I said we needed to talk about! You can’t take her out without my permission, you can’t just do whatever you like, whenever you like, with my child, pretending she’s yours, just because you haven’t got your own daughter!’
There was silence for a moment, apart from the music and chatter going on in the background, in whatever café they were in – a café somewhere in town, enjoying breakfast, without me, leaving me frantic and beside myself with worry.
‘OK, I’ll bring her home right now,’ Crystal said quietly. ‘We’ll be about half an hour, we’re only in?—’
‘No. You’re not bringing her. Tell me where you are, I’m coming to get her.’ I got to my feet. I was still in my pyjamas. I didn’t care. I was going – right now.
‘You don’t sound like you’re feeling OK to drive.’
‘I’m fine,’ I snapped. ‘Where are you?’
‘Maccy D’s. I knew they’d be open on New Year’s Day.’
‘Stay there.’
I didn’t know – or care – what I must have looked like when I arrived at McDonald’s, with my coat pulled on over my PJs, my hair unbrushed and my eyes probably swollen from crying. I saw Poppy straight away; she was sitting with her back to me, but Crystal looked up as I walked in, and immediately got to her feet.
‘Look, I’m sorry—’ she began, but I ignored her, just marched up to the table where they were sitting and, as Poppy turned to look round at me in surprise, I took her hand, pulled her to her feet and helped her into her coat.
‘Hello, darling,’ I said, trying my best to sound like a normal, calm, sane parent. ‘I’ve come to take you home. Nanny’s coming round at lunchtime – remember?’
Crystal was still talking, babbling something about how she hadn’t meant any harm, she’d just wanted to help out and give Poppy a treat, wouldn’t I just sit down for a minute, please, so that she could explain?
I didn’t. I wouldn’t even look at her.
‘Come on, then, sweetie. Let’s get you home.’
‘Bye bye, Crystal,’ Poppy said, looking from one of us to the other, sounding a little puzzled but not complaining.
‘Bye, darling Poppy.’ Crystal’s voice shook. She must have known she wasn’t going to be seeing her again in a hurry. If ever, the way I felt right then.
‘I had a muffin,’ Poppy said brightly as we walked back to the car park. ‘With jam.’
‘Lovely,’ I managed to say.
‘And hot chocolate. Ow! You hurted my hand, Mummy.’
‘Sorry, sweetie.’ I’d been gripping her too tightly, feeling the warmth of her little hand through her glove and vowing to myself that I’d never let her out of my sight again. I couldn’t claim, of course, that this was a very sensible reaction; it wasn’t in Poppy’s best interests or mine, nor something I’d actually be able to carry out in reality, but my instincts had overtaken my common sense by at least 100 per cent.
‘We see Nanny now?’
‘Yes. She’s coming for lunch.’ We reached the car, I strapped her into her car seat, got into the front and sat for just a moment in silence, taking deep breaths. It was OK. I’d got Poppy back, safe and sound. And there was never going to be a repeat of anything like that happening, ever again.