Page 49 of The Stolen Child

Because she knew that was him.

They were still hugging, which puzzled Kimberly. They couldn’t have received the DNA results already. Kimberly had googled the clinic Lily had booked, and the turnaround time was up to seven days. Had there been a special express service? That didn’t make any sense, though. No. Whatever this was, it was not a brother and sister celebrating a DNA match.

She moved closer to them, keeping herself concealed behind the tall building on her left. A woman walking her dog stopped as he sniffed a lamppost before he lifted his leg to relieve himself. Kimberly was grateful for the distraction, and used the moment to move closer unnoticed.

She looked up at the sky, hoping to discern what Lily and Zach had seen, but she couldn’t make it out from her new vantage point. She knew the clouds were constantly moving and shifting, so the image must have dispersed.

They began walking towards Clarion Quay, and Kimberly struggled to keep up with their fast pace. Every now and then, she heard laughter drift back to her.

They liked each other. She could tell how Zach moved, half turning so that he looked at his sister as they walked.

His sister. She’d already started to call Lily that in her mind. Because she’d recognise Robert from any line-up. How long she’d waited to see them together.

A pain pierced her chest; she stopped and held on to the brick wall of a betting shop. Was this a heart attack? It felt like one. She couldn’t breathe as likely scenarios danced in her brain of what might happen once they received the results raced through her mind.

Lily and Zach approached a busy pedestrian crossing, and as the green man lit up they accelerated. Kimberly, who had been following closely behind them, reached out her hand, almost touching her son’s back. However, as the crowd moved forward, Kimberly’s feet remained firmly planted on the pavement. People jostled by her, sighing at the annoyance of the silly woman in their way.

Kimberly ached to hold her son in her arms again, to tell him that she’d never stopped loving him, thought about him every day, and was sorry – more sorry than he’d ever know.

But now was not the time or place. Not with Lily by Zach’s side, at least. Kimberly knew she had to let them go. She allowed the distance between them to grow until they were no longer in sight, as she formulated a plan.

BEFORE

June 1976

Sally

Doddington Estate, Battersea Park Road, London

Sally tried to block out the shouts that drifted in through the open windows. It was impossible to sleep in the dead summer heat without them open, but the noise of the busy council flats made sleep elusive. A deep voice screamed abuse. It was the caretaker, a large, brutish man who had no joy in his life and wanted everyone else to know.

‘No children are allowed to run on the landing. Get them outside or down to the playroom on the ground floor,’ he instructed. ‘Or, by God, I’ll teach them manners.’

In fairness, children had been bounding along the landing all day long. But, like the sound of the trains passing by, Sally had become accustomed to their squeals.

She looked at her watch. It was only ten o’clock. Since returning from her shift at the office block, she’d managed only four hours of sleep. If she had a cup of tea, things might quieten down again on the landing, and then she’d be able to get a few more hours in. Without sleep, she’d be dead on her feet later on and she had plans to go to their local pub, The Grove, with Elsie. It was Saturday, her favourite day of the week, because there was no night work in the office block. She licked her lips at the thought of that cold glass of lager and lime.

Sally got up and walked to the flat window to peek outside. Three young girls were setting themselves up to sunbathe in the concrete courtyard in front of their tower block. They were wearing crochet bikinis, and the sound of Kiki and Elton singing about their broken hearts played in the distance. They swished their long hair and giggled as they lowered themselves into wooden deckchairs.

Sally used to get upset when she witnessed carefree moments like these that she never got to enjoy herself. But she’d learned to harden herself to them over the months. Feeling sorry for yourself didn’t pay the rent. Her stomach lurched once more at the thought. She longed for the day when money, or lack of it, was not an issue.

She was now permanently employed by the cleaning company, and Cyril said she was one of his best workers. The problem was that by the time she’d paid rent, electricity and food, there wasn’t much left – certainly not enough for crochet bikinis in which to lounge around during this heat wave. Sally picked up her handbag and pulled out her purse, spilling its contents onto the table. By the time she’d put aside money for essentials, it left her with £5 to spend on incidentals. Sighing, she told herself that she’d make it work. She always did.

They’d had thirteen days in a row of scorching sun. Temperatures had reached as high as thirty-five degrees. The caretaker had issued a directive to all tenants stating that they should save water. Shallow baths all around. And at work last night the gaffer repeated Denis Howell’s words, who was the Minister for Drought – put washing-up water into the toilet as opposed to flushing. This caused much merriment between the charwomen.

While Sally hated cleaning, she loved the camaraderie of the women there. Her muscles had got used to the hard labour, at least. And her favourite part of the day was the hour Elsie and she spent together before they walked to work. Over the last month since they’d reconnected, they reminisced about their time in the orphanage.

Elsie remained tightlipped about what she’d been up to over the past three years. Sally sensed that there was a story there waiting to be revealed. And that life may not have been kind to her friend.

Dressing quickly in her sundress and sandals, the lightest thing she owned, Sally made her way towards the corner shop to buy some fresh bread.

As she passed the girls, who were now singing ‘Save Your Kisses for Me’, in time with the radio, she felt their eyes on her. There was little greenery in Battersea, and what there was had now turned yellow from the heat. A musty smell lingered in the air. Sally smiled brightly at the girls. She promised herself that she’d have a garden to sunbathe in one day.

To her surprise, she noted the corner shop had a large handwritten ‘Closing Down’ sign on the door. She was sorry to see this and said as much to the woman on the till as she counted twenty pence for her bread.

‘We’ve no chance competing against those buggers in the supermarkets,’ the woman replied, shaking her head sadly. ‘Thirty years we’ve had this shop. All the good that did us.’ Then she pointed to the rack of newspapers that sat beside the counter. ‘Did you hear about the ladybirds?’

Sally shook her head.