The Lost Child

By P. A. Thomas

A missing child. A marriage on the rocks. A truth no one can imagine.

When Emma entered the busy underground, she was holding her daughter's hand.

So…who is the little girl there now?

There are no witnesses.

Nothing to corroborate Emma's story.

The police don't believe her.

Now charged with kidnapping a child and killing her own, Emma is tangled in a web of lies.

Her husband's lies. Hers. The lies of those in their lives.

Her only chance of survival is silence and her best friend, Will—the man that she hurt so many years ago. 

He can unravel the truth.

But he better act fast.

Time is ticking away…and someone has her daughter.

 

 

• Language: English
• Publisher: Paulina Thomas
• Release date: Feb 6, 2018
• ISBN: 9781386414957

Book preview

1

Emma

1st October 2015: 9:00 am

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We’re late!

Yesterday, I’d called the school and told them that Barbara, my daughter, had a temperature. I was warned that I wouldn’t need a doctor slip for one day, but for two I would, which meant that it was imperative that she made it in today.

Barbara’s temperature had been normal yesterday, but I’d ramped up the heating just so that we could stay at home. Bad mommy! I must admit that she loved it just as much as I did, and we spent the day watching Frozen. It’s one of our favourite Disney movies. No matter how many times we watch it, it just never gets old. We sang Let It Go one too many times, and Barbara wanted to build a snowman by the end of it. It was cold outside, but living in Central London we hardly ever have the pleasure of having extreme temperatures sufficient to build a snowman.

Yesterday was a welcome distraction from my marriage, my blog and my cheating husband - everything that was giving me a headache felt like a thing of the past.

Today was back to reality. I didn’t want my six-year-old daughter, Barbara, to realize that I was panicking. I didn’t want to frighten her.

How could a brand new Audi not start?

The damn thing wouldn’t start, which meant that we would be late. There was only one way for us to be on time, and that was to get on the dreaded tube like the rest of the London commuters whose approach to getting on the tube was to act as if they were on a battle field, and the only ones who would make it through to the other side were the fittest and the strongest. We didn’t classify as being strong or fit. I’d never been on the underground before, let alone during rush hour.

But today I promised that I would be brave and join them, otherwise there was no way that she would get to school on time. Driving wasn’t an option, neither was getting on a bus. I wanted us to get there on time, but sitting in a bus would have meant that I was desperate. I wasn’t, but now I was wondering if maybe it was a better option.

I moved to the gate robotically, as my hands stopped sweating and my heart stopped pounding as it echoed through my body.

We made it!

I had a ticket and my child, and in a few short minutes we would be out of this pool of confusion. I didn’t even worry about how I was going to get home. I just knew that I had one chore and that was to get her to school. The assistant at the gate stared at me for a brief second. I glanced down and saw Barbara’s hat with her hand safely in mine. I shook my head at the fact that I wanted to give her a hug right now. She was excited about doing something new, something out of the ordinary, whereas it frightened the life out of me.

I showed the pretty blonde attendant my ticket. She motioned for me to press it against the electric sensor, the one that would allow us to get to the other side. I nodded as I pressed it and then she said, Go through, love.

We were on the disabled side of the exit; that was a lesson that I’d learned when I’d left Victoria. The disabled gate meant that both Barbara and I could go through with one ticket, rather than the other, which would require two. Barbara traveled for free, not that I couldn’t afford to get her a ticket, but why should I pay for her to go through this slaughter? I shouldn’t even have been traveling this way anyway. Not when I had a brand new car in my driveway.

Thank you, we’re late!

She nodded, obviously not interested in anything that I had to say, and then she turned to attend to another passenger that had a child with a hat similar to Barbara’s. I was thinking that they went to the same school, but the other child had a red uniform and matching blazer, whereas Barbara’s was green with a matching dress. I thought for a second about how the other child’s uniform was nicer than my daughter’s, and wondered if all the schools in Kensington had similar uniform.

We both went through, and I held on to Barbara’s hand once again. This time, the crowd disintegrated, and the fear escaped me as we finally reached the exit of the station. I was a grown woman living in Chelsea scared about taking the underground, I felt pathetic when I was purchasing a ticket. I knew about the Oyster card. I’d heard that they were the cheapest way to travel, but I’d never felt the need or desire to purchase one. I never expected to use public transport, but the saying ‘never say never’ crept through my mind.

My main fear was trying to make it through the herd that took the underground every single day. I watched them at times when I stopped at the lights, flocking into the stations as if there was a fire on the outside and the only means of escape and safety was to get into the station. They would leave the same way. As if there was a fire in the station and they had to escape it by coming out.

I’d always thought of myself as one of the lucky ones, not having to endure the painful experience every single day. I was a woman who was fortunate to have a husband that provided too much for her and I escaped the onslaught every single day. Until, I realized that my precious husband may provide financially, but he lacked the respect for the golden rule of marriage. Faithfulness.

We had just a few stairs to get to outside and I didn’t let go off her hand. I would tell her about how brave she was and how proud I was of her today. She hadn’t deserved to miss school yesterday. We’d had fun, but I’d been exhausted and I hadn’t been acting like the responsible parent, just a selfish one. Between spending all my time on the blog and trying to figure out whether to just move out while Ted was away or to carry on with my original plan… The stress of it all had finally taken its toll. Yesterday, I’d broken down and decided that I needed a break from it all. I had the evidence of his extramarital affairs, and the funds transfer from his company that was unethical. He wasn’t due back until Friday, which was enough time to destroy him, the same thing that he’d done to me. I wasn’t going to leave one stone unturned when it came to giving Ted Rogers the treatment that he deserved.

Just two minutes until the school gate closed and I would have to tell them about the troubles with my car, the brand new car not working and the garage claiming to have called me about it. I didn’t remember seeing any message about the car until today.

Anyway, it was better that we were a little late than that she missed another day of school.

As we reached the top of the stairs, I was thankful that we had both arrived safely, knowing that we were only a few minutes late for school.

It had made me feel so disoriented, being down there. There was a cool breeze, which turned my dress which clung to me through the sweat built up by the heat of being on the underground. I felt calm once again. The sounds of the horns didn’t deter me from giving her the hug that she deserved. Barbara had been brave; so I stopped moving and bent down.

I wanted just one minute to tell her that she’d done so well and we were just a few yards from her school. I hadn’t seen her blue eyes since we’d left Victoria station. But as I bent down, I didn’t see her sea blue eyes. I didn’t see her blonde hair at the bottom of the straw hat.

Nothing about this child was familiar.

I realized that the hand that I had been holding wasn’t my daughter’s.

Barbara, I whispered, knowing that wasn’t her name. Everything that had happened on this journey flashed through my mind like a wave hitting the shore.

Who are you? Where’s Barbara? I was firing questions at this little girl, and her brown eyes were filling with tears.

My heart skipped a beat and then it stopped. I blinked furiously, hoping that this was a mistake. The last time I’d hallucinated was over four years ago when I’d been taking heroin. That was a long time ago.

I whispered once again, Barbara?

The little girl whispered, I want my mommy, and then she started to sob. I should have comforted her, told her that it was going to be all right, but I was confused. Upset. Frightened at the prospect that I’d stood near to someone and switched children. I didn’t understand how that was even possible. I found myself speechless, but then I stood up and looked at her hat as I took it off her head and threw it on the ground. The same uniform, the same shoes, the same everything, but she wasn’t my child.

My daughter was lost, and I had to find her!

2

Emma

1st October 2015: 9:07 am

Iwas holding this child’s hand, the child that wasn’t mine, and I was wandering through all the madness when I had lost Barbara. This little girl was wearing my daughter’s uniform.

There was something familiar about her, I just couldn’t put my finger on it. But I didn’t care, she wasn’t mine. My daughter was out there somewhere and I didn’t even know why she wasn’t with me, but I knew that I had to find her.

I raced down the stairs. I didn’t want any confusion this time; before I’d been using Barbara’s straw hat as a guide to reassure me that she was with me at all times. The station felt hotter than before, my heart was racing, I couldn’t see or even think straight as I thought about someone standing next to me earlier. Did they have a daughter with the same uniform? Through the crowd did we exchange children?

I shouted as I tried to catch my breath as soon as I got to the gates, the same one that I’d been through before.

Did you see her?

I saw the same blonde attendant who had let me in. Yet, this time she wasn’t smiling, but had a look of concern as she crossed her eyebrows, probably confused by my question. I had a feeling that if I looked into a mirror, the same look would be plastered on my face as I let go of the little girl’s hand. I no longer cared if she was lost or not, because she wasn’t mine. I’d held on to it, thinking that it was Barbara.

My daughter.

The one that I was supposed to take school.

My daughter, Barbara. The one that I came through the gates with when you let us in. That’s it. It must have happened when you told us to go through the gates. I must have lost her then.

She pointed to the girl that was next to me, the one that wasn’t mine, and said, But she’s there.

I shook my head, You don’t understand, she’s not my daughter. She can’t be. My daughter’s blonde. Like you and I. I nodded my head for her to realize that I was making sense, that I hadn’t suddenly lost my mind.

But, she has blue eyes, that shine like the sky on a clear day… she interrupted me as I was talking about Barbara. Thinking about her sweet innocence that could be lost if I didn’t find her soon. London was full of perverts and rapists. Oh God, please let me find my daughter now!

I didn’t care about school. They could send me a fine. I didn’t care.

I just wanted Barbara. As I started to panic, my words weren’t coherent. My mind was like a tidal wave and, for the first time in four years I craved heroin. Like a newborn baby craving their mother’s milk. That was the only thing that could get me through the deluge that was occurring in my head right now.

Miss, you need calm down.

No, she needed to fucking listen.

I placed my hands on her shoulder. She had to focus on me. No one else. Nothing fucking mattered, but what I had to say to her.

My little girl’s missing!

She shook her head. You came through here, maybe five minutes ago. With your little girl, she pointed to the brown-eyed girl that was sniffing beside me. I could hardly bear to look at her, every time I did, it was a reminder of the fact that Barbara wasn’t by my side.

The crowd was pushing, wanting her attention, but I wasn’t going to stop talking to her. I needed my daughter. Not this girl and I wanted her now.

It doesn’t matter how long ago, it was, I cried, holding on to her, She’s not my daughter. My baby girl is out there. Listen. She has blonde hair, blue eyes. She’s about so tall, I let go of her so that she could understand what I was saying. But both of us were distracted as the little girl was no longer sobbing, but becoming hysterical. I want my mommy!

The lady looked at me as if she’d seen a ghost as she gasped and started to shake her head. I could tell that she was starting to see things from my point of view. She lowered herself and asked the little girl, Is this not your mommy?

The girl hesitated for a while. She wiped her tears which were replaced instantly with new ones before she said the word, No.

I didn’t have time for all these dramatics. Barbara was out there, someone was calling my phone. I shouted out, She’s been found! Frantically I went through her back pack and then my purse trying to find my phone.

If I had been paying more attention I would have heard the words that were coming out of the little girl’s mouth. I would have heard her tell the attendant that I took her. That she didn’t know where her mom was, but most of all I would have heard her name.

As I found my phone and picked it up, for the first time in forever, I didn’t want to hear the voice on the other end.

You taken her to school yet?

I dropped my phone at hearing Will’s words. Not only hadn’t I taken Barbara to school, but she was lost. Someone picked up my phone. It didn’t break or even shatter, it just made a sound so sharp that the little girl covered her ears. I wished it had crashed and Barbara would have run into my arms. I was starting to hallucinate, the same way that I did when I used to take drugs. I would pretend that something nice was happening, something I could deal with, and that meant my reality would become a thing of the past, because I couldn’t deal with anything that was happening to me at the time.

The problem was it was four years since I took drugs.

I hadn’t hallucinated in a long time.

This was my reality and I couldn’t go back to the person I was back then: a woman who didn’t care about her life, let alone her only daughter.

3

Emma

1st October 2015: 9:10 am

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Can you just let me in the station? I asked as the crowd started to die down. It was no longer about getting through hundreds of people which earlier had felt like trying to get through an elephant stampede. A few watched me as I dropped my phone and picked it up again slowly, because I had lost all sense of co-ordination. The noises were ringing in my ear as if they were building up into a headache. The train announcements, the sounds of people going in and out of the station, the little girl crying; all the noises felt as if they were a sirens ringing in my ear. My heart no longer felt like mine as I was no longer talking to the attendant. I was now faced with the police that she had called after she’d spoken to the little girl.

A man named Bob, who was in what looked like a police uniform, was talking to me. Explaining the situation. Trying to get me to calm down.

Now, if we can just start from the beginning.

I took a deep breath, thinking that if this was going to get through to them, if it would make them understand, then I could start wherever they wanted, at least if I left this station with my little girl in my sight. In my arms.

I started to cry. Not uncontrollable tears, but the type that made me think that nothing was making sense anymore.

Nothing.

My car broke down. I’ve never been on the bus, let alone the tube.

But you live in London?

What did that have to do with anything?

Yes.

Okay and then what next?

He stood as the police man came nearer and that was when I realized that it wasn’t even an officer. My hopes and aspirations of getting my daughter were diminishing by the minute. It