The Child Next Door

  ‘Yeah, well, course she didn’t know I was up there. Me and Han heard the cops tell her mum and stepdad that you reported an attempted baby abduction. They said you heard voices in your baby monitor.’

  ‘I did hear voices. And now you’re saying it was you?’

  Callum gazes down at his trainers for a moment. ‘I was telling Han she didn’t have to put up with her parents taking the baby. I said we should just take him ourselves and go off, run away somewhere. She knows I’d do anything for her. I’d help raise Leo. We could do it together. Her parents couldn’t stop us.’

  ‘Oh my God, that really was you!’ I stagger backwards and sit back down on the kitchen chair, letting my head fall into my hands, letting his words sink in.

  ‘Yeah,’ Callum continues. ‘We didn’t know that Leo’s monitor was being picked up by yours. Then, when the police came round to ask about a baby, well, me and Hannah nearly died. Couldn’t believe it. Parky went mental. He hadn’t realised I was upstairs. When he found me up there, he threatened to kill me. And Hannah’s mum was just as bad. We all had a right barney. I’m not allowed back there, so me and Han have to meet up in secret now.’

  I’m trying to get my breathing back under control. ‘So, you’re telling me that it was really you in the monitor? That all this time, I thought… Do you realise what you’ve put me through?’ My voice rises to a screech as the implications of this sink in.

  Callum’s eyes widen. ‘Calm down, miss. I didn’t exactly know you were listening—’

  ‘Calm down?’ I bang the palms of my hands down on the table, ignoring the shards of pain shooting up my bruised arm and shoulder. ‘Your little whispered conversation put me through hell! I thought there was someone out there trying to snatch my baby! I’ve been a paranoid mess for weeks!’

  ‘That’s not my fault,’ he says, glowering at me. ‘I mean, I’m sorry you were a mess and everything, but I thought I was having a private conversation with Hannah.’

  I know what he’s saying is right, but I can’t help the wave of rage sweeping over me. These teenage kids have basically screwed up my sanity and may have cost me my marriage. No one is trying to take Daisy. It was Callum all along. He was simply trying to persuade Hannah to take her own baby. How did I manage to get things so wrong? All this time I’ve been thinking there’s someone out there who’s trying to steal my child.

  But even if that part is true, can I really believe that Dom slept with a fifteen-year-old girl? That her child is… is Daisy’s half-brother. It can’t be true. It just can’t. But then why would Hannah lie about it? Why would Callum lie? What possible reason could they have? Money? Extortion? I look up at the boy.

  ‘Does my husband know?’ I snap. ‘About the baby?’

  Callum shakes his head. ‘I don’t think so. Hannah never told him. I think the only person she’s told is me. And, like I said before, her parents think I’m the dad, too.’

  ‘Okay, so if it’s true that Dom’s the father, then why didn’t she tell him about the baby?’ I ask.

  ‘Han said she doesn’t want him getting in trouble with the police, or with her parents.’

  ‘Nice of her to be so considerate,’ I mutter. ‘But I still don’t believe that Dom would do that.’ He wouldn’t, would he? He loves me and Daisy. Hannah’s just a child – Dom wouldn’t be so stupid, surely.

  ‘I didn’t want to show you this, miss,’ Callum says, pulling his phone out of his jeans’ pocket.

  ‘Show me what?’

  Callum is tapping and swiping at his phone, muttering to himself, his dark hair falling forward over his eyes. ‘Here,’ he says, holding out his phone screen.

  Sunshine reflects off the screen so I stand and take the phone from him, moving further into the room where it’s darker. I’m looking at a photo on WhatsApp. A selfie of Dom and Hannah, heads bent together as they smile at the camera. The caption below reads: Now do you believe me?

  The date is last November, when I was six months pregnant with Daisy.

  Hannah looks beautiful, way older than fifteen, about twenty maybe. But still way too young for Dom. How could he? How could he? I pace up and down the kitchen, staring at the image until it blurs in front of my eyes. Callum is telling the truth. This picture proves it. My husband and this… this… child.

  ‘Miss.’

  I want to smash the phone, but I don’t. Instead, I grip it so tightly that it feels like I could crush the metal and glass beneath my fingers.

  ‘Miss? Are you okay?’

  ‘What?’ I look up at Callum, who’s standing over by the open doors.

  ‘Can I have my phone back?’ he asks, a worried expression on his face.

  ‘If I give you my number, can you send me a copy of that photo?’ I ask.

  ‘Uh, yeah, I think so.’

  I finally wrench my gaze away from the damning photo and give Callum his phone back. ‘Can you send it to me now?’ I give him my mobile number and he punches the digits into his phone. In a shocked daze, I take my phone out of my bag and wait for him to send the image through. ‘So, Hannah and… are they still… seeing each other?’ Bile rises up in my throat, but I swallow it back down.

  ‘Dunno,’ Callum says with a scowl. ‘She won’t talk to me about that.’

  ‘I thought you said she tells you everything.’

  ‘She does, mostly. It’s just, I think she’s trying to protect him or something. She knows I hate his guts. She knows I want to be with her. But for some reason she still likes him. He’s old enough to be her dad. I think it’s gross. He should be in prison.’

  I realise that that’s exactly where Dom will end up if this gets out. And maybe it’s what he deserves. My phone pings and I open Callum’s text. My heart twists as the photo pops onto my screen.

  ‘Can you leave now?’ I ask, unable to hear any more. I need to be on my own and process this. I need to work out what I’m feeling, because at this precise moment I’m starting to become numb, to shut down.

  Callum stares down at his feet. ‘There’s one more thing, miss.’

  I don’t know if I can cope with ‘one more thing’. But I let him continue.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ he says softly, ‘but it was me who scratched your husband’s car. I don’t normally do stuff like that. I’m not a vandal or nothing. But, well, to be honest, I wish I’d torched the fucker.’

  At this point I couldn’t care less about Dom’s car. But something else is bugging me. ‘Was it you who trampled my flowers? And tipped that paint over my step?’

  Callum hangs his head and then nods.

  I don’t know what to say to his silent admission. Those things all seem so trivial now, after what I’ve just learnt about Dom.

  ‘I’m sorry, miss. I did it to get back at your husband, not you. I was so angry.

  ‘Just go, Callum.’

  ‘Okay. I’m sorry,’ he repeats.

  As he steps out of the back door, I remember something else. ‘Wait!’ I stand and turn to face him.

  He stops and turns, his dark eyebrows raised.

  ‘Was it you who rang me that time?’ I ask.

  ‘Rang you?’

  ‘That anonymous call telling me to back off.’ I trawl my brain to remember the exact words… ‘“Stop poking your nose in.” That’s what they said. Was that you as well?’

  ‘I dunno what you’re talking about. I didn’t even know your number before just now so how could I have called you?’

  ‘Do you promise?’

  ‘Look, I just came round here to tell you some pretty serious stuff. Why would I lie about a phone call?’

  ‘I don’t know. I don’t suppose you would.’

  ‘And why would anyone say that to you?’ Callum asks. ‘Maybe it was a wrong number.’

  ‘They used my first name.’

  ‘So what did they say exactly?’

  ‘What I just said. “Stop poking your nose in or you’ll regret it.”’

  ‘Shit. So it was like a threat or somethin
g.’

  I nod. If it wasn’t Callum who called me, then it doesn’t make sense. Who could it have been? Unless… No. Dom wouldn’t do that to me, would he? I don’t know. My husband is not the person I thought he was. ‘I really need you to leave now, Callum.’

  ‘Sorry, miss. For… you know. Everything.’

  I don’t reply. I just sit where I am, wishing I could blot everything out.

  After Callum has gone, a deep silence overtakes the room.

  My husband and Hannah Slater. I picture them together, more intimately, his hands on her body, and I rush over to the sink, vomiting up all the water I drank this morning. I wipe my mouth with the back of my hand. Is Dom still seeing her? Are they in love? It can’t be possible, can it? But then again… it might be.

  I grip the edge of the sink and take a breath as my mind unlocks and starts racing ahead. What if Dom hasn’t been working late these past few weeks, and instead he’s been meeting up in secret with Hannah Slater? What if he wants to be with her permanently? I squirt washing-up liquid into the basin and run the hot water tap to clean out the sink. Something else occurs to me – maybe my own husband has been setting me up to look crazy, making me appear neglectful. Could he have spiked my drink at the party? He could have. But he wouldn’t have, would he? Or maybe… was Hannah there yesterday? Did she do it?

  Once the sink is clean, I pour myself a glass of water, rinse out my mouth and spit. Then I square my shoulders. I’m not going to sit around here all day speculating. I’ve done enough of that over the past couple of weeks.

  I’m going next door right now to find out the truth.

  Thirty-Five

  I lock up the back door with sweating, trembling fingers. Then I grab my bag and keys, leave the house and march next door to the Parkfields’. As the soles of my sandals slap against the pavement, I remember it’s Sunday morning, so the whole family will probably be home. Fine. Who cares? Let them all hear. If Hannah really is sleeping with my husband then her parents need to know exactly what’s been going on.

  I stride up the front path and hammer on their door, ignoring the sharp pains shooting up my bruised arm. No one answers straight away so I put my finger on the doorbell and hold it down.

  Eventually, I see a dark shape approaching through the frosted glass. I remove my finger from the bell and stand there, arms folded across my chest, preparing myself for a confrontation.

  Lorna opens the door with a scowl of annoyance, wrapping her arms around her body. ‘Kirstie? What are you doing hammering on our door? Have you gone mad?’

  ‘I don’t know, Lorna. Maybe I have. Is Hannah home?’

  ‘Hannah?’

  ‘Yes, you know, Hannah, your eldest daughter. Can I speak to her please?’

  ‘Are you drunk again?’ Lorna asks, with a faint sneer.

  I give a short laugh. ‘You’d like that, wouldn’t you? You know, Mel was right – you are a snobby cow. I always stuck up for you, but I don’t know why I bothered. Now, are you going to get that daughter of yours out here, or do I have to come in and drag her out?’

  Lorna’s mouth drops open before she snaps it shut with a glare. ‘Okay Kirstie, you better leave right now, or I’m going to call the police.’

  ‘Do it,’ I say. ‘Call the police and then I’ll call the school governors and let them know that the headmaster’s daughter got pregnant when she was fifteen years old.’

  ‘What?’ Her face blanches. ‘I don’t know what you’re—’

  ‘Save it, Lorna. I know you’re a grandma.’

  ‘What are you doing here, Kirstie?’ she says. ‘My daughter has got nothing to do with you. What my family does is none of your business.’

  ‘Look, I need to speak to Hannah.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Just give me ten minutes with her, and then I’ll leave.’

  ‘What the hell is wrong with you, Kirstie? First, your behaviour at the barbecue yesterday, and then today, coming over here like this… I don’t think you’re right in the head.’

  ‘Ten minutes with Hannah, or I’m on the phone to the school governors. Your choice.’

  ‘Lorna! Who is it?’ Parkfield calls from a distant room.

  Lorna sighs. ‘Wait here.’ She closes the front door and I see her dark shape recede through the opaque glass.

  As I wait for her to return, I try to rein in my emotions. If Callum is to be believed I’m about to confront the teenage girl my husband is sleeping with. I need to hear Hannah admit it. To tell me to my face that my husband is the father of her child. Of all the things I expected to have to deal with today, this was not one of them. I don’t think it’s even sunk in yet.

  A few minutes later, the front door opens again and I’m staring into the faces of both Lorna and Hannah.

  ‘You better come in,’ Lorna says. ‘Stephen’s working in his study. I’ve told him you’re here to pick up some of the girls’ old clothes for Daisy. I don’t want him to be disturbed by any of this. We’ll go into the living room.’

  I step inside and follow them into the front lounge. We stand facing one another, the air between us crackling with tension and hostility.

  ‘Well?’ Lorna says, ‘Say what you’ve got to say and then leave.’

  ‘I need to speak to Hannah alone.’

  ‘No way,’ Lorna says. ‘You can say whatever you’ve got to say in front of me.’

  ‘I told you what the deal was, Lorna.’ I have a feeling Hannah won’t be quite as truthful if her mum’s in the room. ‘I’m not bluffing about calling the governors of our school and the new school.’

  We remain deadlocked for a few moments, neither of us backing down until Lorna finally caves, ‘Fine,’ she says. ‘Five minutes.’

  ‘Mum!’ Hannah cries. ‘Where are you going? Don’t leave me with her.’

  ‘Don’t make this more difficult than it is, young lady,’ Lorna says to her daughter. ‘Your stepfather could lose his job because of your behaviour. He doesn’t need any more aggravation.’ She turns to me. ‘And you,’ she points at me, ‘remember she’s still a child. Whatever it is you’ve got to say to her, say it nicely.’

  Finally, Lorna leaves the room, and I close the door behind her.

  ‘Why are you here?’ Hannah asks. ‘What do you want?’

  No point beating about the bush. ‘Are you sleeping with my husband?’

  ‘What? No!’

  My pulse skips a beat. Hopefully Callum has got the wrong end of the stick. ‘Really?’ I ask, ‘because Callum seems to think you are.’

  ‘Fucking Callum,’ she mutters.

  ‘He also said that my husband is the father of your child.’

  To my horror, Hannah starts to cry. She sniffs and wipes her eyes with the back of her hand.

  ‘Why are you crying?’ I ask. ‘Is it true? Is that why you’re upset? Because you’re scared to tell me?’

  ‘No!’ she says.

  ‘Because if it is true, I need to know. You were a minor when it happened, so I won’t be mad at you. I just need to know the truth, that’s all. This is my husband you’re accusing, so tell me. Please.’

  ‘Just go away,’ she snarls.

  At that moment the lounge door opens and Stephen Parkfield walks in, his eyes blazing.

  ‘I just need a couple more minutes,’ I say. ‘I’m talking to Hannah.’

  ‘No you’re not,’ he replies. ‘Hannah, go to your room.’

  Hannah scuttles away. I call after her. ‘Please, just tell me the truth!’ But she’s gone already and I can’t exactly chase her through the Parkfields’ house.

  ‘Get out,’ Parkfield says to me. ‘Now.’

  ‘You don’t even know why I’m here,’ I say.

  ‘I don’t care,’ he says. ‘You’re a drunk and a troublemaker and you need to leave.’

  A million and one retorts come to my mind, but they all remain unspoken, lying thick and heavy on my tongue. Tears prick behind my eyes. Why can’t I just get the answers I need? Why is it
so hard to find the truth about what’s going on? I take a couple of steps towards the lounge door, where Lorna is lurking. She gives me an evil stare and something inside me snaps.

  ‘Fine, I’ll go, but you both need to keep your daughter away from my husband.’

  Lorna’s face drops. ‘What’s that supposed to mean?’

  ‘Exactly what it sounds like.’

  ‘You’re delusional, Kirstie,’ she says.

  That’s not the first time today someone’s called me delusional, but I really don’t think I am. ‘Ask her who the father of her baby is.’ I turn to Parkfield. ‘You can kick me out of your house, but it doesn’t change the fact that your daughter’s sleeping with my husband.’

  ‘Nonsense!’ Parkfield says. ‘We already know who the father is.’

  ‘Callum, right? You think it’s Callum,’ I reply. ‘But maybe that’s just what Hannah wants you to believe because the truth… the truth is…’ My voice cracks, but I force myself to keep going. ‘According to Callum, your daughter has been sleeping with my husband, and he’s the father of her child.’

  Lorna blanches.

  ‘My wife is right,’ Parkfield says, ‘you’re delusional.’

  ‘I wish I were,’ I say. ‘I bloody wish I were.’

  * * *

  As I let myself back into my house, I get the feeling that I’ve just made everything a whole lot worse. I should never have gone next door shouting my mouth off. If Dom is found guilty of sleeping with a minor, then he’ll go to prison. When she’s older, Daisy will discover that her father is a sex offender. There will be a huge scandal and all the kids at school will find out about it. My colleagues, family and friends will be shocked. Our world will implode.

  But what the hell else was I supposed to do? Ignore it? Hope it goes away? If Dom really did do this thing, then he deserves to be punished, but it’s Daisy and I who will have to live with the fallout. I find myself back in my kitchen, standing at the sink once more, looking out of the window into the back garden. It all looks so peaceful and idyllic out there. So calm. The complete opposite of the frantic whirlwind inside my head.

  Although, if I know anything about Parkfield it’s that he loves his precious career above anything else. He won’t report Dom to the police because he’ll want to avoid the scandal. No, it suits him to believe that Callum is the father.