Beneath the Surface (26 page)

Eleanor ruled all of us. She ruled my mother because Kathryn was weak and because she allowed herself to be controlled. She ruled me because I feared her. Whatever Eleanor wanted, Eleanor usually got, whatever the cost.

The night my mother left, when Eleanor turned up and pushed past me into the living room, she told the police officers she knew exactly where my mother was and I should never have called them in the first place.

‘Abigail is being dramatic,’ she said, gesturing a hand towards me. ‘As always.’

The policeman nodded, as if he knew exactly the type of girl I was. He had, after all, already made up his mind about me the first time we had crossed paths.

I was in shock but tried telling them I had no idea, pleading for them to believe me. But Eleanor shot me a look, her steely eyes piercing through me, and I was scared. There was something about her that night, like nothing would stop her, and I found myself clamping my mouth shut and waiting for her to get rid of them so I could hear what she knew about my mother.

The two police officers shuffled beside me, neither knowing what to do. But this was Eleanor Bretton, wife of Lord Charles Bretton, and I was just a kid who had been in trouble with them the week before, and so wholeheartedly they swallowed up her lies.

I knew I should have told them the truth – that I had no idea where my mother had gone with the girls. But as Eleanor glared at me, almost goading me to speak, I couldn’t, Adam. I just couldn’t.

‘I’ll be sorting this out,’ she said to me once they had left.

‘Where have they gone?’ I begged her. ‘Just tell me.’

‘They have gone away,’ she said simply. ‘And it’s up to you what happens next, but things have to change, Abigail, because I will not tolerate you trying to orchestrate what happens around here.’

And I didn’t stand up to her – I let her tell me what to do, to wait, to leave well alone, because that’s what Eleanor makes you do. But the funny thing was, when Eleanor had turned up on my doorstep that evening I’d seen the surprise in her face. She hadn’t known my mother had left – she had been as shocked as me. Yet over the course of the following days I had forgotten that and allowed myself to believe she had been responsible.

*****

While my mother’s disappearance was out of the blue there had been some build-up. Our relationship had hit rock bottom and I shouldn’t have been surprised that she did something crazy. There were times before the girls came along when I got home from school expecting to find her swinging from the rafters, so I guess her going was the preferable outcome. I shouldn’t make light of it but that’s the way it was – Kathryn was pretty mental. And Eleanor would take advantage of it.

All Eleanor wanted was to make sure she came out on top and that no one stood in the way of her doing that. In her eyes I was an obstacle. Everything I did was one major hurdle after another for her. She despised me for the amount of complication I brought to her life.

In February 2001, Hannah had hit the terrible twos and wasn’t averse to throwing tantrums. Every time she didn’t get her own way she threw herself to the floor and kicked at the air, screaming. If anyone approached her they would often get struck on the shins, so I found the best way to deal with it was to leave her well alone until it passed. It usually did within ten minutes. If I was on my own with the girls I would roll my eyes at Lauren and say, ‘What’s she like, eh?’ and we would ignore her. Then as soon as Hannah had stopped, she would pick herself up and join us. By contrast, Lauren was amazingly placid. Nothing provoked her into a bad mood.

It was clear Kathryn found Hannah and her moods harder to cope with. She would fuss and get agitated, fanning herself like she was overheating. Her arms waving about her, she would parrot, ‘Please just stop that. What is it you want? I just don’t understand what you are crying for.’

‘Leave her alone,’ I’d say. ‘Stop trying to calm her down, you’re obviously making things worse.’

My mother would then get defensive. ‘I’m perfectly capable of raising my daughter,’ she’d say, always a slight emphasis on the word ‘my’, but never a confident one.

If Eleanor was around when Hannah was having a tantrum, her eyebrows would rise to a point and her shoulders arch back further and further before she almost screamed at my mother to do something about it. ‘I would never let you throw yourself about like that,’ I often heard her say. ‘Your children should be controlled.’ She always said ‘children’, with one never differentiated from the other, careful not to point out that one was any worse behaved than the other. I expect she would have taken great delight in pointing out it was Hannah who was the uncontrollable child, but she never did. Eleanor was much too measured for that.

Then one day I came out of the bathroom to find Hannah lying on her back in the hallway, screaming and kicking the front door with Kathryn about to lose it. My mother was shaking, her arms flailing around the top of her head like some crazy woman. Meanwhile Lauren was cowering in a corner, one watchful eye trained on Hannah to make sure her sister was OK.

I don’t know what Kathryn was about to do but I wasn’t going to find out. ‘Leave her alone!’ I shouted as I raced down the stairs, standing in front of Hannah to block Kathryn. She glared at me and told me to move.

‘No,’ I said. ‘I won’t let you anywhere near my daughter if you’re going to be like that.’

Kathryn inhaled a deep breath and said, ‘She’s not your daughter, Abigail. She is
my
daughter. Step aside.’

But I refused. ‘You don’t know how to handle her,’ I said. ‘Just like you can’t handle anything.’

That was the second and last time she slapped me round the face. I didn’t care that time. I wanted to slap her right back but I could hear Lauren whimpering in the corner. Hannah had by then stopped screaming and was staring at us both, wide-eyed with fear.

Kathryn held out her hand as if she was trying to take her slap back, but I pulled away. ‘You aren’t fit to bring up any more children,’ I said through clenched teeth. ‘I should never have let you do what you did.’

She didn’t respond, which only gave me more ammunition. ‘I’m going to make sure everyone knows whose child she really is,’ I said, and left the house.

*****

‘I’m going to take Hannah,’ I told Cara, full of confidence. ‘I should never have handed her over.’

But by the time I had left Cara, I was less assured. She reminded me Hannah had been legally adopted, that I’d have no money, and would probably never see Lauren again. But I also knew I didn’t want to carry on living the life I’d unwillingly signed up to.

At home backup had already arrived. Eleanor was standing at the door when I got there and pulled me in with force, shutting the door behind me. ‘Don’t you ever refer to yourself as that child’s mother again,’ she warned me. ‘She is no longer yours, she is your sister and nothing more.’

Her eyes bore into mine as her words sliced through me. I’d signed documents the day Hannah was born. Dr Edgar Simmonds had pushed them in front of me the moment Mae had taken Hannah to be weighed. I was so tired and my hand was trembling as I put my childish signature next to where Eleanor’s bony finger pointed. In that moment I had signed away any right I had over Hannah and I knew that. I was also aware, as Cara pointed out, that should I ever run off with Hannah, I’d get nothing from them. Financially I’d be broken and I couldn’t support a daughter on fresh air and love.

My life wasn’t suitable for looking after a baby and I was well aware of that. I spent my evenings drinking and smoking in alleyways with my mates, and days in school trying to scrape by as best I could. I was aware I couldn’t look after a child, even when I loved her as much as I did Hannah. So I knew I wouldn’t take her away, but that didn’t stop me from threatening it. I enjoyed the reactions I got. Every time my mother pissed me off, I told her I would tell the world Hannah was my daughter and I was made to give her up. She would shrivel into herself before my eyes. It gave me a wonderful feeling to see the power I had over her. That with those few words I could send shivers down her spine. Of course every time I made a threat it wasn’t long before Eleanor arrived to reprimand me, but I didn’t care: it was all just words.

Three days before they left me, and just after I’d made more threats, I’d left Kathryn sobbing on the kitchen floor like a child. Eleanor had at that moment walked in and I gave her a smug look as I passed her in the hallway and went upstairs to my bedroom. I was naïve, too young to realise I was playing a game against a woman who would never lose.

‘This cannot continue,’ I heard her say to Mother. ‘I am going to put an end to this.’

But I had smirked as I went into my room.

Three days later they were all gone. I wondered how much of it was my fault, if I’d pushed Kathryn to the brink. Yet I also couldn’t imagine it was her decision. She would have needed help and that help would always come from Eleanor. The truth was I was sure Eleanor had somehow been behind it, I just didn’t know how.

So Eleanor won. It didn’t matter her opponent was her seventeen-year-old granddaughter.

That’s the woman I’m up against today, Adam. My only hope of finding the girls rests with the very person I suspect took them away from me in the first place.

Kathryn pushed through the main doors to the hospital and stood in the entrance. The signs faded in and out of focus as she searched for the ward where her daughter would be. Around and around she looked, but the more signs she saw, the less clear they became. Panic coursed through her body: it was happening again. They had taken Robert, and now Hannah.

But she couldn’t go there. Couldn’t believe she might lose Hannah too. Yet still Kathryn heard the threatening voice telling her it was all her fault, all her doing.

She had prayed in the car on the way to the hospital. Made a bargain with God. ‘Keep Hannah safe,’ she had said. ‘And I’ll—’ What was it she could do? Come on, Kathryn, think! What could possibly make any of this better? ‘I’ll put it all right, I’ll find Abigail, I’ll tell everyone the truth,’ she had cried out. ‘Just keep her safe.’

‘Can I help you?’ a voice asked. Kathryn turned round, still rooted to the spot in the middle of the foyer. A man in his early twenties surveyed her over the top of his frameless glasses. He wore a badge that said Jenson Turner.

‘My daughter,’ she said.

‘Would you like me to see if I can find out?’ he asked kindly.

Kathryn nodded and gave him Hannah’s name. She watched him walk to the reception desk and speak to the girl behind its counter, gesturing vaguely behind him in her direction. When he returned, he said, ‘She’s in Ward 23. Through those doors to the left, and it’s the first ward on the right-hand side.’

‘Thank you,’ Kathryn mumbled, but didn’t move.

‘I’ll take you there if you like?’ the young man said as he nodded towards the doors. ‘I’m going that way.’

Kathryn allowed the stranger to lead her to the ward, where he left her at the door, telling her she was in the right place and nodding towards the nurses’ station.

‘Can I help you?’ a nurse asked, barely looking up from her paperwork.

‘My daughter …’ Kathryn started again.

‘What’s her name?’

‘Hannah Webb.’

‘Oh, Mrs Webb,’ the nurse said, looking up before standing and walking round the desk. ‘Hannah’s through here.’ She pointed to a closed door and walked towards it, one hand on Kathryn’s arm. ‘She’s stable, but I think she might be sleeping.’ They stopped at the door and the nurse turned to Kathryn. ‘Your other daughter, Lauren, is in there with her. She’s very upset so she’ll be glad you’re here. And I’ll try and get hold of the doctor for you to speak to.’

Kathryn nodded and gazed through the small window on Hannah’s door as the nurse retreated to her station. Lauren wasn’t aware of her presence and for the moment Kathryn preferred it that way: she wanted to watch them. There was something about the girls, the way they moved around each other, that had always captivated her. They were as close as real twins could ever be, moving as one, always in tune with the other. Sometimes Kathryn felt a small pinch of jealousy, as if she was an outsider. But there wasn’t room for jealousy today, it was superseded by the knowledge she was ripping that bond apart for ever.

Kathryn couldn’t see much of Hannah’s face from where she stood. It was masked by the angle of the bed and a drip with one line feeding into her wrist. But she saw what Lauren meant when she’d said she barely recognised her. The right side of her face was noticeably swollen, distorting her features. It made her eye look black, as if she had been beaten up. Kathryn wanted to run her hands over Hannah’s face and wipe away the bruising; her daughter shouldn’t look like this.

Lauren held Hannah’s hand in her own, using the other to stroke her sister’s hair, pushing it away from her face. She bent to kiss Hannah on the forehead and then stood and walked around the bed to the table, where she poured herself a cup of water from the jug. She drank the water and crushed the cup in her hand before throwing it into a bin then went back around the bed, sitting next to Hannah again, once more taking her hand and placing it back within her own as she stroked her fingertips over Hannah’s. There was plenty of space at the other side of Hannah, even an empty chair. But Kathryn knew why Lauren was on the other side of her: she needed to be on the right, just the way she always was.

Kathryn knew she should go in. Just push open the door and be there with her girls. She held her hand up to the glass window on the door. Everything was playing out in slow motion. Her precious Hannah, lying deadly still. Hannah had been trying to get away from her, running away. How long had she been trying to do that for? ‘But look where’s it got you,’ she whispered to Hannah. ‘It’s so unsafe.’