Ash didn’t want to push his luck. Terry was bordering on being friendly, and that had to be good. Then Ash remembered the photo of the man with the badly concealed bullet hole in his head and had to wonder if Terry was responsible. He sat quietly and said nothing.
Instead, he looked out of the window. They had driven round the ring road and were now on the other side of Manchester – the east side. It wasn’t an area that Ash knew well, and he had no idea where they were going. It was dark outside, but at least it wasn’t raining. In his opinion, there was nothing more depressing than a February night in Manchester, although bizarrely Jo loved it. ‘Bring it on,’ she always said. But then she said that all the time, whatever the weather.
He wondered what she was doing now and wished he was with her. Somehow, she made sense of everything with her innate ability to hold on to the positives, although right now that ability was being stretched to its limit.
What was he doing? If he wasn’t being taken to Millie, what was the point? He wanted to cry with frustration. Somehow, he was going to have to make a case for seeing Millie. Maybe he could dream up some congenital illness for which she needed medication. Except he didn’t have any on him. Why hadn’t he thought of that?
The journey continued in silence, but Ash wished someone would speak, if only to drown out the screams inside his head.
75
I leap out of the car. Who is this joker? Whoever he is, he’s blocking my drive and he needs to move, and move now.
I’m about to storm down the path and yell at the idiot when I suddenly remember Zoe. She would hear me and make me go back into the house, so I keep close to the hedge.
For a moment I wonder if it’s the kidnappers, coming for me, but as I reach the gates I can see the car isn’t a Volvo. I don’t know much about cars, but I recognise a Mercedes badge when I see one.
Who the hell has parked across my drive?
The man who jumps out on the far side of the car is the last person I was expecting to see, but I recognise the messy blond hair and the stubbly face.
‘Steve!’ I hiss, glancing nervously over my shoulder to check Zoe isn’t watching through the window. ‘What are you doing here? Get out of my way. I’m in a hurry.’
‘You’re going nowhere. And why are you whispering?’
‘I’m not supposed to leave the house. Just move your bloody car.’
He stands, resting both forearms on the roof of his car, and slowly shakes his head.
I can see by looking at the Mercedes, shiny even after all this rain, that it’s a much-loved vehicle.
‘Fine. If you won’t move it, I’ll just have to barge it out of the way.’
I stomp back towards my car, no longer caring if Zoe hears me. I have to go – now.
‘Jo, wait!’ I hear rapid footsteps. ‘Hang on.’
As I reach my car and open the door, a hand shoots out.
‘Pack it in, Jo. You’re not going to ram my car.’
‘I will if you don’t bloody move it. I’ve got to go, Steve. I don’t have time to argue.’
He narrows his eyes as he looks at me. ‘Is this to do with Millie?’
‘Of course it is. Everything is to do with Millie. Why the hell are you here anyway?’
‘Because I don’t appreciate being interrogated by the police.’
‘Tough. I don’t appreciate someone abducting my daughter.’
‘Our daughter.’
I glare at him. I want to argue, to tell him he has bugger all to do with Millie, but now isn’t the time, and if I don’t get going soon I’ll never catch up with Ash.
‘Please! I’m begging you to move your car.’
‘Not until you tell me why.’
For a moment I don’t know what to say. Can I trust him? Becky told me they thought it unlikely that Steve had anything to do with Millie’s abduction, although they hadn’t ruled him out completely. It’s a risk, but it might be the fastest way of getting him to move.
‘It’s complicated, but I might have a lead on where she is. And if I don’t get there quickly, I’m going to lose any chance I’ve got. It would take me too long to explain, Steve, but I really need you to shift your bloody car.’ I can hear my voice rising, verging on hysteria.
‘Fine. Listen, I may not be father of the year, but that doesn’t mean I’m happy about the fact that someone’s abducted my child. Come on – you can explain to me on the way.’
‘What? What are you talking about?’
‘If you think you might know where she is, I’m coming with you. I’ll drive. My car’s probably a tad faster than yours.’ He nods towards my little Fiesta.
I don’t have time to argue. I have no reason to trust him, but I am as certain as I can be that he won’t move his car unless I go with him, and if I ram it I think I know which car will come off worse.
I cast a frantic look over my shoulder, expecting to see Zoe peering out of the window, but the curtains are closed. I run towards the passenger door of Steve’s car, and he doesn’t hang around. He races to the other side and jumps into the driver’s seat and I’ve barely closed my door before the car’s moving.
I hardly know this man, but I remind myself that he’s Millie’s father, and that should mean something.
At least, I hope so.
76
By the time Tom reached the hospital, it was all over. The operation had taken just twenty minutes, and Louisa was apparently being stitched.
‘She’s going to be another thirty minutes or so in surgery,’ the nurse said, ‘but I understand everything went to plan. Unfortunately, we had to give her a general anaesthetic because there was no time to do anything else, so it’ll be another forty-five minutes or so before she comes round, but in the meantime, would you like to meet your son?’
A boy. They had a son.
Tom nodded, swallowing the lump forming in his throat. ‘Yes please. Is he okay? Is Louisa going to be okay?’
‘Absolutely. She’s doing great, and he’s a chunky little thing. Lovely squidgy legs, if you know what I mean.’
Tom did. ‘Thank you,’ he said, feeling a rush of relief that they were both all right. ‘Where can I find him?’
‘He’s in the nursery, but you can take him to the recovery room so he’s there when his mum comes round. Come on. I’ll take you to him.’
He followed the nurse into a room, and there, in a plastic cot in the corner, was his son. He had never imagined he’d have another child after he and Kate divorced, but he would never forget the thrill of the first moment he had seen Lucy, mixed with the twinge of fear that this child’s life and future well-being were in his hands.
The nurse pulled back the blanket for a moment, so Tom could see his perfect little body.
‘See what I mean about the legs?’ She grinned at him, then covered the baby and scooped him up.
‘Here you go, Dad. He’s all yours. Come on. Let’s go and wait for Mum to wake up.’
Just over an hour later they had been moved into a private room where Louisa was gazing at their son’s face, unable to drag her eyes away.