Silent Cry

‘An officer of your experience should know that there are no secrets between partners. Say your piece. I’m sure DC Darin will keep your confidence,’ DCI Brazil-North finally replied, still staring down at the document in front of her.

‘It’s about the Baby Grant case, ma’am.’

‘Oh God, really?’ She placed her pen down carefully before raising her head. ‘This had better be good, Walker. The force spent millions the first time round scouring the globe and they didn’t come up with anything other than censure from the public and politicians alike. You know as well as I do that the possibility of her still being alive is non-existent?’

‘That’s as may be, ma’am. But I bumped into the mother in the supermarket yesterday – she’s adamant she’s in possession of new evidence that will make a huge difference to the case.’

‘I’d forgotten that you still live in St David’s – a hell of a trek to work and back.’

‘But great to get away from it all.’

‘Mmm. So, what new evidence?’

‘Grace Madden seems to have appeared back on the scene. Miss Grant’s convinced of it. It was actually quite sad seeing her like that with her meal for one,’ he said with a little shake of his head. ‘She can’t move on with her life until she gets some news, one way or the other. You might remember that both the baby and boyfriend disappeared around the same time as the friend – it was all highly suspicious.’

‘I know all that.’ Her tone was as glacial as her look. ‘I also know to the pound just how much it cost the branch in terms of man hours searching for Madden and the boyfriend. So, she’s turned up, has she?’ She picked up her pen and scribbled something in the margin of her notebook.

‘Well, not quite but the mother seems to think that she spotted her yesterday.’

‘I don’t need to hear any more, Rhys. There’s not a lot we can do until after all the festivities are over. When you get back tell the team to have a sniff around but don’t spend long on it and be discreet. The very last thing we want is to alert the media. It was like a circus last time.’

Chapter 3

Izzy

Wednesday 25 December, 2.27 p.m. St David’s

Izzy’s parents had prepared enough food to feed an army and not the five adults and two children present. In the old days she would have been more than happy to clear her plate but that was before food had toppled off her list of things that were important. Now, a tightening waistband meant she placed her knife and fork neatly in the centre of her plate before finishing her meal. Her sister and brother-in-law, Bethan and Oscar, were still grazing and, with every additional sausage wrapped in bacon and extra spud, they were each getting a nod of approval but she couldn’t change back into the girl she once was no matter how much her mother wished it.

She pushed her chair back, unable to stand it any longer, her mind on Grace and the glimpse she’d caught of her darting out of the Royal Arcade and into the waiting taxi along St Mary’s Street. All she wanted was some peace to think it through but that wasn’t going to happen anytime soon.

Her eyes flicked between Mam, Dad and the kids. ‘Anyone for coffee or is it tea all round, as usual?’ she said, trying to push the day forward. There was still pudding to get through: brandy custard to accompany the Christmas pudding for the adults and gooey chocolate cake for the boys.

She headed into the kitchen and filled the kettle before starting on the saucepans, her gaze drawn to the window and the view out across St David’s Head and the sea beyond. While she loved her family, these long, drawn out parties were always a chore and this one seemed more of a chore than usual. She hadn’t slept a wink since returning from Swansea and five minutes alone, even if it meant starting on the pile of washing up, was all she needed. But, with the sound of the door opening behind her, she wasn’t even going to be allowed that.

‘Where did you go to make that tea then? China?’ Bethan said, placing a pile of crockery on the table before starting to scrape plates into the food waste bin.

‘It’s just coming. You know Mam likes it strong enough to strip the hairs off Dad’s chest.’ Izzy caught her sister’s eye, trying and failing to dampen down the fit of giggles at the thought of their dad, who had only a few strands of grey left on his scalp, let alone on his chest.

Bethan lifted a clean tea towel from the hook to the left of the sink and started to dry a glass. ‘So, how are you really doing, sis?’

‘Oh, the usual. You know.’

‘No, I don’t know, not really! I don’t know how you manage to get out of bed in the morning or even sleep at night. If something like that had happened to either Gareth or Dylan, I think I’d have—’ She stopped suddenly, her cheeks pale, confusion and embarrassment stamped across her face in equal measures.

Izzy stared at her for a moment, memories of the time she most wanted to forget tumbling across her mind: the suicide attempt. It took her almost a year to shake off both the depression and the psychiatrists, not to mention the constant attention from her parents checking to see if she was all right. But the truth, a truth she’d never admitted to anyone, was that swallowing those sleeping tablets was only a half-hearted attempt. It was just a cry for help. Did they honestly think she wouldn’t have done it if she’d really meant to? Did they think she’d have picked up the phone when they’d made their nightly call if she hadn’t wanted to be saved? Dying would have been an easy but unfulfilling outcome. She still needed to know what had happened to her daughter.

‘Come on. If you carry on you’ll have us both in tears,’ she said, managing a small smile. ‘Let’s leave Oscar and the parents to fend for themselves for a while. It’s James Bond on the TV and I must have seen it a million times already. What we need is a romp on the beach with the dogs. The kids are going square-eyed in front of their iPads. You’re going to rue the day you ever agreed to buy them.’

Porthclais beach was one of their favourite haunts as youngsters. It was low tide and the dogs raced through puddles with their tongues out and tails wagging. They’d even brought a football and, with the boys happily playing an impromptu game, Izzy and Bethan sat on the end of the harbour wall, watching the antics unfold when the dogs finally discovered there was a ball game underway and no one had invited them to play.

Gazing at the boys, they started a rambling conversation about how Mam and Dad were faring now that the chip shop was a distant memory.

‘They still worry about you, you know. It’s all very well spending all your time working,’ said Bethan.

‘I don’t view spinning wool as really working and, as for knitting – it’s how I relax.’

‘You know what I mean. Setting up your own cottage industry is admirable, and we couldn’t be prouder of the way you’ve managed to create a niche for your handmade knits. But you can’t blame Mam and Dad for wanting to see you settled with a man at your side and perhaps another—’

Izzy grabbed her hand, stemming her flow of words. Her sister meant well. They all meant well. But she didn’t want another child. Children weren’t like cars that could be traded in for a newer model. There was nothing wrong with Alys. She was the most perfect baby in the world and all Izzy wanted was for her to be back where she belonged. She couldn’t give a toss about what happened to Charlie. Over the years she’d come to realise that even when he was at his most romantic, there’d always been a barrier when he’d tried to inveigle his way into her heart. The bullies had done a great job of fine-tuning her lack of self-confidence. Their taunts had made it impossible for her to believe that a good-looking bloke like Charlie could just suddenly drop at her feet. It was only after Alys’s disappearance that she realised just how right she’d been.

‘Shush, Bethan. You know that’s not going to happen.’ She managed a laugh. ‘I’m far too busy with the business to be worried about another man and anyway, one Charlie in my life is more than enough, thank you very much.’

‘But what about—’

‘I’m not missing out,’ she said firmly. ‘I have you batting for me and the most amazing pair of nephews.’ Her eyes were now on the football tug-of-war between Gareth and Arthur, the older of the two dogs.

‘Oh, I nearly forgot. I bumped into Rebecca last week.’

‘Really?’ Izzy managed to suppress a groan, knowing only too well that any comment made about her best friend would lead straight to Rhys. Bethan just wouldn’t let it rest.

‘She was with her brother. He asked after you, by the way. I always knew he had a soft spot for you and this just proves it.’

‘Really?’ she repeated, squashing her temper back down where it belonged. She wasn’t interested in Rhys like that and, after all that had happened, he was the very last man she’d look at. But how did she go about telling her well-meaning sister?

She looked up from where she’d been staring at her boots and caught the beam on her sister’s face. ‘What?’

‘You and Rhys Walker. I remember the way you used to look at him when he was a bobby round St David’s. And the way he used to return that look, come to that.’

‘That was a very long time ago. I’ll admit I used to think he was cute in that uniform but he’s with someone now and anyway, even if he wasn’t, I’m not interested.’

Bethan pulled a frown. ‘Rebecca never mentioned it and he certainly didn’t look married.’

‘Ha, why do you automatically assume that he’s married and, even if he was, it’s not as if he’s going to wear a do not touch label; not all men wear wedding rings.’

‘Oh, you know what I mean. I always hoped you’d get together.’

‘You’re as bad as Mam. I don’t need a man in my life and, if I did, it wouldn’t be someone like him. He really is the eponymous Mr Boring.’ She stood and whistled for the dogs. ‘Come on, let’s get the boys home. I hope you’ve worked up an appetite for supper.’

‘Do you have to go back so early? I thought we’d get to spend most of the day together,’ Mam said with a scowl. ‘And what your dad and I are going to do with all this turkey, I don’t know.’

‘I’m sorry. But I still have a couple of orders to finish in time for New Year’s Eve and I’m behind as it is. And there’s Bucket to consider too,’ she said, slinging her bag across her shoulder. ‘The neighbours are very good but you know what he’s like around strangers. What about I come round during the week for one of your “Turkish curries”? But no chips on the side like last time, mind.’

Izzy placed her pile of presents in the boot before turning and enveloping her parents in deep hugs. The van, a vintage VW camper complete with flower motifs, was a recent but necessary addition. The Mini disappeared on the same morning as Charlie and Alys and, just like them, it had never turned up, despite a lengthy search. She had great hopes that one day it would appear in the small ads but there hadn’t been even one reported sighting since that fateful morning when he’d backed out of the driveway.

The house felt cold and unloved after a night away. She glanced at the wood-burner and the pile of logs stacked in the corner, but she was far too wound up to even strike a match. Instead, she left her coat on and wandered into the kitchen to flick on the kettle. There was no sign of her snow-white moggy, Bucket. But staying out late was nothing unusual. The fields behind the cottage were alive with all sorts of interesting creatures to keep him occupied, many of which he saw fit to drag through the cat-flap whatever the time. He’d appear when he was ready with a sharp meow and a fine line in ignoring the hand that fed him.

Mug in hand, she picked up her laptop from the table and carried it across to the sofa. If she was honest, the reason for not staying later at her parents had been nothing to do with business. No one would expect her to read her emails on a bank holiday and, if she’d been that desperate, she could have always checked her orders on her phone, despite her dad’s aversion to any and all things technological. He’d put a blanket-ban on the use of mobiles in the house except for the making and receiving of calls. After the initial annoyance and anxiety of not being able to check her device, it was actually a welcome relief to keep it in the bottom of her bag. No, the real reason she’d headed off early was because of Grace. Ever since seeing her, memories of their friendship had been uppermost in her mind.

Her fingers wandered over the keyboard, typing in Grace’s name – something she should have done years ago but she hadn’t been in a fit state at the time. With a missing boyfriend and baby she had far too much to think about, and it wasn’t as if a nine months’ pregnant woman could be tied up in Alys’s disappearance.

Izzy lifted her hand to her forehead, the start of a headache looming. Memories from that time were hazy but she’d just assumed that Grace had just upped and left. That it was something to do with her husband, Geraint Madden, a man she’d never met. He must have returned and whisked her away. People lost touch all the time and she could be forgiven in not following it up what with everything else going on. Grace had got tucked away in the back of her mind and she’d never bothered to pull her out again.

Her first name, Grace, wasn’t that unusual – an old-fashioned name but one that had been growing steadily in popularity. They’d even had one in her class at school. But despite that, she was confident she’d be able to find her online. Most people had an internet presence of some sort.

Izzy spent the next half hour trawling through Google, her tea growing cold by her side. But even though she found enough Graces to fill a football stadium, none of them seemed to be the right one. With the thought of her still lingering she snapped the laptop shut and headed back into the kitchen just in time to hear the cat flap rattle. Crouching down, she filled Bucket’s dish with his favourite cat food before switching the kettle on again and reaching for a camomile tea bag. There was also her mother’s homemade Christmas cake beckoning to her from the shelf and, before she knew it, she’d cut herself a large slice.

She dropped her spoon in the sink before carrying her mug and plate back into the lounge, Bucket trailing her heels. The evening wasn’t going as she’d planned. She thought by now she’d have a telephone number or a place of work …

There were jobs she could have been getting on with like packing up the latest orders ready for posting to America. She also needed to add to her pile of felt for more berets. But she wasn’t in the mood for any of it. Seeing Grace had unsettled her, and she didn’t know why. Common sense told her she should just let it go, that she should let her go. She obviously didn’t want to be found or she’d have signed up to Facebook. But, for some reason, Izzy’s stubborn streak wasn’t letting common sense have a look in. She was of a mind to carry on with her search.

Bucket disturbed her thoughts by jumping up on her knee, his loud purr a comfort, and her thoughts shifted away from Grace and to the question that had been lingering ever since that day in Swansea. Ever since that glimpse of black hair framing her pale face.

Had she given up too quickly on her daughter? She’d never forgotten her. She was always there. The girl she could see out of the corner of her eye. The girl being hoisted into the shopping trolley, a stuffed tiger clenched between chubby fingers. Any girl with blonde hair and dark blue eyes got a second look even though she knew she wouldn’t be able to recognise her now. Eyes changed colour. Hair darkened. Features altered. She wouldn’t recognise her even if she was standing next to her.

She rubbed Bucket behind his ears, dipping her mind into the past. She’d carried on actively searching for Alys throughout that first year. It was all about Alys, never Charlie. She couldn’t bear to hear his name let alone remember the good times they’d had together. It was all about finding her child. She’d hated him then and she still hated him for what he’d done to her, for what he was still doing. The only time she’d had any feeling without hatred at its heart, was the day she took the bus into Fishguard to track down his mother and stepfather. Then she’d felt sympathy for him and only then. When he’d refused to talk about his reasons for leaving home she’d been too busy with her own life to question him. But one look at the rundown semi and the foul-mouthed pair who called themselves his parents and everything made sense. She stayed long enough to find out that he hadn’t taken his passport before hurrying away to catch the next bus home.

It felt as if she’d been treading water those first twelve months, neither moving forwards or back. But the stress and strain eventually took their toll and, after the incident with the sleeping pills, she’d had to come to a decision, the hardest decision she’d ever had to make: her daughter or her? If she carried on with her obsession she’d end up, if not dead then in some mental institution. So, she stopped haranguing the police on a daily basis. She stopped contacting them at all. Instead, she joined a local knitting group and soon the day-to-day act of living inured her to any thoughts other than the most superficial.

The temperature plummeted as late afternoon slipped into evening. Izzy finally put a light to the stove before sitting back on her heels, her eyes mesmerised by the flames catching the scrunched-up newspaper and stretching out towards the kindling, her thoughts continuing into the past …

Chapter 4

Izzy

Five years ago

August must surely be the worst of months in which to find yourself pregnant.

She laughed at the thought. It wasn’t as if she’d just opened her eyes to being five months into this mistake of all mistakes. It wasn’t as if she hadn’t slept with Charlie, knowing full well she was taking a huge risk. It wasn’t as if she didn’t know the facts of life. No, not those – the other facts. The fact that if a bad thing was going to befall anyone around here it was always going to befall her. Before she’d left school all her classmates had been messing about with boys and had never gotten caught, which in a way had led her into a false sense of security. After all, as the least popular girl around, the likelihood of anyone asking her back to their place was zero. And yet, within six months, she was the one explaining to her parents what a mess she’d made of things.

She was hot, sweaty and, with four months left to run, she could only expect more of the same. Picking up her bag, she headed for the car, all the time muttering at the injustice of it all.

He gets to have a Saturday morning lie-in with a cup of tea brought to him in bed, more fool me, while I get to drive to the church hall on the other side of St David’s for the first of my antenatal sessions. You would have thought he’d have wanted to accompany me like any other expectant father … that’s the biggest joke of all.

She remembered his words. ‘But, Izzy, why did you have to make it Saturday? And anyway, I’ll be the only man there.’ He’d given her one of his little-boy-lost looks, the same one that had first attracted her to him when their eyes had met across a crowded room.

Yeah, corny as hell – it would have been romantic except that the room was the local chippy and she was the one serving him. If she’d had more sense she’d have realised what he was really after: extra fries and, as he’d just missed his last bus, a bed for the night. She should have known it was too good to be true. Who in their right mind chatted up the chip shop owner’s daughter after she’d spent four hours behind the deep-fat-fryer? She could almost taste the grease and, truth be told, the very last thing she was looking for was a man unless he came with a hot shower and a foot massage. But he came in just before closing and one look into his deep blue eyes and they both got a lot more than they’d bargained for, her hand instinctively reaching for the excess flesh hanging over the top of her leggings.

Now here she was, trying to squeeze into a parking space, thankful for once that she was the proud owner of a clapped-out Mini with over 100,000 miles on the clock and not some people carrier. But getting out was more awkward. Her waist had exploded over recent weeks but that was hardly surprising given her job. The problem with working in a chip shop was that she was always hungry. It never used to matter before she’d fallen pregnant. She’d eaten what she wanted and had never gained even an ounce – now she was plain fat. She was just thankful that Charlie had stayed around for as long as he had. He wasn’t perfect but then neither was she.

Izzy pulled a grimace at the sight of the four other women present, three of whom were accompanied by their partners. She’d always hated walking into a room by herself and, as she was the last one to arrive, she was forced to take a chair by the type of person she usually avoided. She scanned the woman’s perfect hair and perfect make-up, all set off by a cutesy designer maternity dress sprinkled with little white daisies. She’d even managed to cope with heels but then her ankles and feet were as nature intended and not swollen lumps of salami more suited to the deli counter at the local supermarket.

After a talk on healthy eating and tips on how to continue exercising, Carys, the midwife, called a short break and within minutes the three couples were chatting like old friends.

‘Hi, I’m Grace, pleased to meet you.’

Izzy looked up, surprised that anyone was bothering to speak to her, let alone the perfect woman sitting next to her.

‘Izzy and likewise,’ she said, offering a smile.

‘So, is this your first then?’

‘Yes, and probably my last at this rate.’

‘Whys that?’ Her heavily pencilled eyebrows swept upwards.

‘Oh, you don’t want to hear all about my troubles. What about you?’

Grace held out her left hand, displaying a shiny, plain gold band on her ring finger. ‘I’ve only just moved to the area. My husband is sorting out the sale of our house and then he’ll be joining me,’ she said with a smile. ‘What about a spot of lunch after we’ve finished – you can tell me all about living in St David’s?’

The choice wasn’t a difficult one. Lunch with Grace or popping into the chip shop and being roped into helping, despite it being her day off.

‘You were telling me about why this might be your only child?’ Grace said, sitting back in her chair and placing her hands protectively over her small baby bump.

‘It wasn’t planned or anything. I’m lucky he stayed around – it wasn’t meant to be more than a one-night stand.’

‘How exciting. He must really love you if he’s prepared to start a family straight away.’

‘Mmm, I don’t know about that.’ Izzy placed her half-finished burger back on her plate, trying to ignore the remainder of the chips. Charlie was far from perfect, unlike Grace’s husband, Geraint, a corporate lawyer. But she decided not to spoil Grace’s dreams of a happy-ever-after because that’s the one thing her life wasn’t. With Charlie still out of work, life was a daily struggle with only one wage coming in and adding a baby to the mix was going to be tougher still. She had no idea why he stayed but if she continued treating him the way she did, he’d leave. Then what would she do? She’d be left alone with a baby to look after.

‘You’re so lucky,’ Grace continued. ‘It took me ages to get pregnant and all you had to do was look at a bloke and your ovaries started twitching.’

‘Yeah, well, they can twitch all they like. After this bundle of joy is born, I’m going on a strict diet and on the pill. Charlie won’t recognise me,’ Izzy added, reaching for another chip.

‘I’m sure he loves you just the way you are,’ Grace said, lifting her bag onto her lap and pulling out her purse. ‘How about a coffee at my place? It’s so much better than the instant they have on the menu. I don’t mind having to forgo wine, but decent coffee is a must.’