Chapter 22
LENA
The baby is fake.
I stare down at the doll in shock. It looks so real.
It even cries like a baby. It must be on some kind of timer.
Is this what Marielle pushes around in the pram?
Does that mean she doesn’t have a grandchild?
But I saw her with a woman I assumed was her daughter-in-law, Heidi, and she was holding a baby. I don’t understand.
Bile burns the back of my throat. I need to get out of here.
I sprint downstairs as though chased by ghosts, the echoes of the baby’s eerie cries still ringing in my ears. The eyes are the only thing about it that don’t look real. Everything else, those perfectly rounded cheeks, the tiny fingers … God.
My hands are trembling as I let myself in at my front door.
‘Where’ve you been?’
I jump. Rufus is sitting on the stairs in his pyjamas.
‘I’m sorry, love. I heard something – from next door. I just wanted to go and investigate. You heard Marielle. She asked me to keep an eye on the place.’
His face darkens. ‘You should have told me. It could have been dangerous if there’d been a burglar or something.’
He’s right. ‘I thought you were asleep.’
‘Can you tell me next time?’ He doesn’t wait for me to answer as he strops up the stairs. I feel a tug of guilt. I follow him and watch as he climbs into bed.
‘I’m really sorry, Ruf. I heard a baby crying.’ I perch on the edge of his bed. I’m tempted to tell him that I let myself in with the spare key but stop myself. ‘It was nothing. Anyway. My mistake.’ I bend down and kiss the top of his head. He smells of my fruity shampoo.
‘Fine,’ he says, turning his back to me. I squeeze his shoulder and leave the room.
‘And you didn’t have a chance to look around their house?
’ Jo asks the next day. We’re sitting outside a little café on the lower slopes of Park Street, not far from Jo’s chambers.
She texted me early this morning, asking if I’d meet her in her lunch hour and apologizing for taking so long to get back to me.
The sky is bleached and shimmery. The area is busy with students and shoppers, all making the most of the heatwave.
At one point I’m sure I see Kit on the other side of the street, his guitar case on his back, but he melts into the crowd.
‘No,’ I say, as I cut into my breaded chicken breast. ‘I was freaked out after finding the fake baby. It was so creepy, Jo. So lifelike. More so than any toy doll I’ve ever seen. It was only the eyes that gave it away. But also … I dunno … it’s kind of sad.’
‘How so?’
My heart feels heavy. ‘Like, why does she have it?’
Jo takes a mouthful of avocado and chews it silently.
‘Sometimes it can be … after a loss.’
Jo swallows. ‘You think she once lost a baby? Do you think she lied about having a son, then? And a grandson?’
‘I really don’t know. She could have a son but have lost another baby. Or maybe she’s lonely. She wants something to love …’
‘Then she should get a pet.’
‘Jo!’
‘I know, and I’m sorry for her if she did lose a baby, but she’s nearly seventy, isn’t she?’
‘You’d never get over losing a baby.’
Jo’s voice softens. ‘I love how big your heart is, Lena, but you could be jumping to conclusions. You don’t know that’s the case.
What about the conversation you overheard?
The stuff with the missing sister of one of your clients.
And what about the man’s voice on your tape?
The garden gate being left wide open. Someone was in your garden.
Oh, which reminds me, Paul says he’ll pop over on Saturday to install the camera, if that’s okay?
I’m sorry we haven’t done it before. He was away at the beginning of the week and we’ve both been manic at work. ’
I wave away her apology. ‘It’s fine. I don’t think anyone’s been back in the garden.
The gate has remained locked.’ I put down my knife and fork.
‘I know this sounds weird, and it’s not like I’ve got much to go on, but I have this gut feeling I can’t quite shake that maybe Marielle is a little scared of Henry. Intimidated by him, perhaps.’
‘What makes you say that?’
‘I don’t know. It’s just little things. Like when I saw them arguing in the front garden.
She seemed rattled. And she’s always friendly and he’s, well, colder in a lot of ways.
Like he’ll wave and say hello, but it doesn’t seem as authentic.
Like I’m a nuisance.’ I sigh. ‘It’s hard to explain.
And when I was in their house I saw something else.
’ I bend down to reach into my bag for my phone and scroll to my latest photos.
‘Look at these.’ I slide my mobile across the table.
Jo puts down her knife and fork and pushes her reading glasses onto her nose, then picks up my phone. She frowns. ‘What is this?’
‘This is the wall in their downstairs room. I’ve taken a few – the first is of the whole wall and the next two are close-ups of a few different articles.’
‘It’s a bit blurry.’
‘It was dark in there and I had to use the flash, but … Can you see what it is? Most of the wall is covered with newspaper clippings. Look at the headlines. There’s one about an adoption racket.’
She narrows her eyes. ‘Yes … I remember this, or a story like it, in Romania in the 1980s.’ She looks up from the phone. ‘Why would they have it?’
‘I don’t know. And then there was one about a drugs lord, although I didn’t manage to take a photo of that. It’s really odd. Really random.’
Jo hands me back the phone and pushes her glasses onto her hair. ‘Your neighbours are obviously a bit weird, Lena.’ She picks up her knife and fork and concern floods her face. ‘Please be careful. You don’t know what they’re capable of. Promise me you won’t go into their house again.’
‘I promise. It’s strange. I feel conflicted because I like Marielle.
And I feel sorry for her. But Henry … I still think he knows more about Drew’s sister.
He’s really cagey about it, according to Drew, and he was threatening when Drew asked him about it after realizing that Henry has a classic blue car and Sarah-Jane was being followed by one. ’
‘Leave it to Drew,’ she says, through a mouthful of sourdough.
‘It’s not your business, hon.’ She reaches across the table and takes my hand.
I notice a new flower tattoo on her wrist. ‘I know things are tough right now. Everything is up in the air, with Charlie. And Rufus. But, please, don’t get involved. ’
After our lunch we say goodbye and Jo walks up the hill to work. I continue past College Green and the central library.
The central library. I pause outside its impressive doors, remembering Marielle telling me about her daughter-in-law, Heidi, and how she worked there on a Thursday.
It’s Thursday today, and this morning when I woke up Henry’s car was parked outside, so they must have travelled back especially to look after their grandson.
Does Marielle use the fake baby when the real one is back with his mother?
What does Henry make of it? He must know his wife has this – this life-sized doll.
Is Marielle having some kind of mental breakdown?
Is that why Henry lets her have the doll?
On occasion I’ve noticed he’s almost irritated by her, especially the way he reacted when I asked him about the key Phoenix had found in their garden.
The library is cavernous, but I might be able to find Heidi. I could just ask her a few innocent questions, that’s all. No harm done. I know I promised Jo, but this will be the last thing. I need to find out, for my peace of mind. After all, I’m the one living next door to them. Not Jo.
I’ve always loved this library, but I haven’t been inside since Rufus was younger.
We used to wander around gazing in awe at the domed glass roof and the beautiful floor-to-ceiling bookshelves.
It was like a museum. As soon as I step into the foyer and inhale the familiar scent of polished wood and dusty books I’m transported back in time and, once again, I feel the nostalgic pull deep within.
The yearning to turn back the clock. I spend half an hour perusing the books while keeping my eye open for Heidi.
I’d forgotten how long the library is and it takes me a while to get from one end to the other.
I can’t see her anywhere, and when I’m considering giving up, I spot her by the arts section.
She’s bent down, unloading a trolley, neatly slotting books back onto one of the lower shelves.
Yes, it’s definitely her. The same long dark curly hair and a similar bold-print maxi dress to the one she was wearing when I saw her with Marielle.
I steel myself. Then I head over to her on the pretence I’m looking for a book on architecture. She stands up, smiling pleasantly, and points me to a different section of the library. ‘Thanks so much. It’s Heidi, isn’t it?’
Confusion flits across her features. ‘No, I’m Lindy.’
‘Oh,’ I say, surprised and a bit embarrassed. ‘Sorry. I saw you with my neighbour, Marielle, the other day. I assumed you were her daughter-in-law, Heidi. You were with your baby.’
Her eyes light up. ‘Yes, I know Marielle. A lovely woman. She’s my old university lecturer. That was the first time I’ve seen her, oh, in years. We’ve kept in touch sporadically, and when she told me she was moving to Bristol I suggested lunch. She was so excited to meet my baby daughter, Lily.’
‘That’s lovely,’ I say. ‘Do you know Heidi? Marielle said she worked here too.’
She frowns. ‘No, there’s no Heidi here. And Marielle never mentioned it when I told her this is where I work.
Anyway, nice to meet you,’ she says, turning back to her trolley of books.
I say goodbye and walk away, wondering if Marielle lied about having a daughter-in-law.
If so, does that mean that she’s also lied about having a son and a grandson?