Stolen Read online

  Table of Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  Chapter Forty

  Chapter Forty-One

  Chapter Forty-Two

  Chapter Forty-Three

  Chapter Forty-Four

  Chapter Forty-Five

  Chapter Forty-Six

  Chapter Forty-Seven

  Chapter Forty-Eight

  Chapter Forty-Nine

  Chapter Fifty

  Chapter Fifty-One

  Chapter Fifty-Two

  Chapter Fifty-Three

  Chapter Fifty-Four

  Chapter Fifty-Five

  Chapter Fifty-Six

  Chapter Fifty-Seven

  Chapter Fifty-Eight

  Chapter Fifty-Nine

  Chapter Sixty

  Chapter Sixty-One

  Chapter Sixty-Two

  Chapter Sixty-Three

  Chapter Sixty-Four

  Chapter Sixty-Five

  Chapter Sixty-Six

  Chapter Sixty-Seven

  Chapter Sixty-Eight

  Chapter Sixty-Nine

  Chapter Seventy

  Chapter Seventy-One

  Chapter Seventy-Two

  Chapter Seventy-Three

  Chapter Seventy-Four

  Chapter Seventy-Five

  Chapter Seventy-Six

  Chapter Seventy-Seven

  Chapter Seventy-Eight

  Chapter Seventy-Nine

  Chapter Eighty

  Chapter Eighty-One

  Chapter Eighty-Two

  Chapter Eighty-Three

  Chapter Eighty-Four

  Chapter Eighty-Five

  Chapter Eighty-Six

  Chapter Eighty-Seven

  Chapter Eighty-Eight

  Chapter Eighty-Nine

  Chapter Ninety

  Chapter Ninety-One

  Chapter Ninety-Two

  Chapter Ninety-Three

  Chapter Ninety-Four

  Chapter Ninety-Five

  Chapter Ninety-Six

  Chapter Ninety-Seven

  Stolen

  Rebecca was born and raised in Redcar where she still lives. She has a degree in Film and Media and an MA in Creative Writing. She has lived and worked in Holland and London, and travelled across America on a Greyhound bus in 2002. She won a Northern Writers’ Award in 2010.

  First Published 2013 by Moth Publishing an imprint of Business Education Publishers Limited.

  Paperback ISBN 978 1 901888 86 7

  Ebook ISBN 978 1 901888 90 4

  Copyright © Rebecca Muddiman 2013

  The moral right of Rebecca Muddiman to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted by her in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act, 1988.

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the prior permission of the publisher.

  This novel is entirely a work of fiction. Except in the case of historical fact, the names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination and not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead is entirely coincidental.

  A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.

  Cover design by courage.

  Printed and bound in Great Britain by Martins the Printers Ltd.

  This book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, re-sold, hired out, or otherwise circulated without the publisher’s prior consent in any form of binding or cover other than in which it is published and without a similar condition including this condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.

  Moth Publishing

  Chase House

  Rainton Bridge

  Tyne and Wear

  DH4 5RA

  www.mothpublishing.com

  For Stephen with love

  Acknowledgements

  I’m extremely grateful to everyone who helped make this happen, but especially to: The team at Moth Publishing, in particular Andrea Murphy and Sarah Porter, for their faith in me and my writing. Everyone at New Writing North for all their help and support over the years, in particular Claire Malcolm and Olivia Chapman. Will Mackie, my brilliant editor, who worked so hard and made the book so much better. Camilla Wray and Sallyanne Sweeney for the advice early on. Paula for promising to read this one. Cotton for taking me on long walks when it just wasn’t working. My family for supporting my dreams of being a penniless writer, especially Mam for being my manuscript guinea-pig; Dad for the encouragement despite not reading “that kind of thing”; and to Donna and Christine for sharing the weird crime-obsessive genes. Stephen, for keeping me going; for putting up with all the mountains and molehills, and just about everything else.

  You don’t know what it feels like to have something stolen from you. The one thing that means more to you than anything else. One minute it’s there. The next it’s gone.

  Think of your most prized possession. Think of the one thing you love more than anything else. Think of the one thing you would die for. And then think of losing it.

  Think of the words of comfort given by others and how useless they are. Think of how the world keeps going on and on but how yours would stop, just like that. Think of the emptiness and the gaping hole where love once was.

  Maybe you feel numb. Maybe it hurts too much to even contemplate. Maybe you cannot bear to think about it and so you bury your head in the sand and pretend everything is okay.

  I cannot do that. I can’t let it go. I can’t grieve and move on. I don’t want to face the rest of my days with that emptiness. I choose to do something. I choose to be a mother. Her mother. I choose her. I will not stop until I have a daughter again.

  2005

  Chapter One

  Abby Henshaw’s foot tapped as she glanced at the clock again before turning to her daughter, Beth, who was playing on the floor. A man with a little girl came out of the doctor’s office. He picked the girl up, swinging her under his arm until she giggled. Abby’s phone rang. She pulled it out of her bag, attracting the stares
of the other people in the waiting room, and looked at the screen, cursing her husband for calling when he should’ve known she’d be at the doctor’s.

  ‘Hey. How did the doctor’s go?’ Paul asked.

  ‘We haven’t been in yet,’ Abby said.

  ‘What time was your appointment? I thought it was early,’ Paul said.

  ‘It was. Things got a bit behind schedule.’

  ‘Your fault or theirs?’ he asked.

  Abby wanted to say theirs but she knew that wasn’t strictly true so she ignored the question. ‘So what’s up?’ she asked. ‘You sound tired.’

  ‘I’m alright. I just didn’t sleep very well.’ He paused. ‘Anyway I just wanted to check-in.’ She could hear him moving about, probably shuffling books around shelves. ‘What’s on your agenda today?’ he said.

  ‘Once we see Dr Evans we’re going to see Auntie Jen, aren’t we?’ Abby looked down at Beth and ran her fingers through her daughter’s feathery hair.

  A nurse came to the door leading to the clinic rooms and shouted, ‘Martin Savage, please?’ A man with crutches stood up and hobbled towards the nurse.

  ‘Jen?’ Paul said. ‘You’re driving up to see her?’

  ‘Yeah, I told you that the other day.’

  ‘I don’t think you did,’ he said and Abby opened her mouth to argue but Paul cut her off. ‘Anyway that’s not the point.’

  ‘What is the point?’ Abby asked.

  ‘Why can’t she come here?’

  ‘Don’t start, Paul.’

  ‘I’m not starting. I’m just asking why she can’t come to you.’

  ‘She said she’s got builders in. She doesn’t want to leave them unsupervised.’

  Abby heard Paul snort. ‘She’s such a...’ He stopped. Since Beth had been born Paul had curbed his swearing and rarely lapsed. Abby wasn’t quite as restrained. ‘She should come to you, Abby,’ Paul said. ‘You’re the one who’s just had a baby.’

  ‘I’m the one who had a baby eight months ago. Anyway, she came here last time.’

  ‘That’s not the point. If she wants people to go to her she should live somewhere near civilisation. I mean what does she do up there? As far as I can tell, the only reason to move to the country is if you’re being punished for something.’

  ‘She writes,’ Abby said.

  ‘Jen doesn’t write. She lives the life of an artiste,’ he said. Abby could almost see quotation marks in the air.

  Abby looked down at Beth and realised she was watching someone sitting behind her. Abby turned and saw a red-haired woman pulling funny faces. Abby dragged the pushchair closer towards her and turned her attention back to Paul, who was still complaining.

  ‘I’m just saying, I think she should come here. You’ll get lost,’ Paul said.

  ‘I will not,’ Abby said.

  ‘I spent half an hour on the phone to you last time trying to get you out of Deliverance country.’

  ‘I’ll be fine.’

  ‘Okay,’ Paul sighed. ‘Have it your way.’

  Abby knew that his opposition to the visit had less to do with the inconvenience of the drive out there and more to do with his feelings about Jen. Some people thought it was odd Abby was such good friends with her husband’s ex but Abby found it amusing more than anything else. The idea of them ever having been together was so hard to believe that any jealousy she felt would be ridiculous.

  ‘Anyway, I’d better get back to it,’ he said. ‘There’s a huge delivery here to sort through.’

  ‘Okay.’

  ‘What time will you be back? If you don’t get lost.’

  Abby smiled. ‘I don’t know. About five, six maybe.’

  ‘Okay, see you then. Give Beth a kiss for me.’

  She disconnected and bent down to Beth, kissing the top of her head. The man with the crutches came out and the nurse stood with a clipboard, scrolling down her list. Beth was staring behind her and Abby turned to see if the woman was still making faces at her. The woman caught Abby’s eye but Abby turned quickly back around. She didn’t want to get talking to her. She could sense that broody look on the woman’s face and she really couldn’t be bothered with her ‘let’s compare baby stories’. She prayed that one of them would be called in next.

  ‘Helen Deal, please,’ the short blonde nurse called. The woman stood up and walked towards the smiling nurse.

  Abby got Beth settled into her car seat and sat staring out at the people rushing about the supermarket car park. She wondered how many of them were actually happy with their lives. Is anyone? She’d once read something like you can have anything you want but you can’t have everything you want. She’d thought that pretty wise at the time. She could do anything but she couldn’t do everything. Not at the same time. Not if she wanted things to end well. She knew that now, that something will always break. Hopefully she’d learned in time, before anything or anyone was hurt too much. Things weren’t perfect, she wasn’t totally happy, but she was content. And as long as she could keep juggling everything it’d be fine. Fine was enough.

  She pulled out her phone and dialled, watching Beth in the mirror. After a few rings the answerphone cut in.

  ‘This is Simon Abbott. I’m away in New Zealand until the 28th of September. Leave a message and I’ll get back to you as soon as possible.’

  Abby hung up. She thought he was leaving tomorrow. Not that it mattered. What would she say to him anyway? She felt that horrible weight in her gut again. A feeling she couldn’t even remember being without. Why was she risking everything? Why didn’t she stop?

  Because she couldn’t. Not now. It was too late. She’d gotten herself into it and now she was stuck. She thought about Paul. She loved him, she truly did. So why had she risked everything? She looked back at Beth. Why had she risked her family?

  Abby looked down at the phone in her hand and dialled Jen. It rang several times before cutting off to voicemail. Abby hung up. She searched through her phone for Jen’s landline and tried again. No doubt she was too busy flirting with the builders.

  Another answering machine. She sighed and waited for the beep. ‘Hi, Jen, it’s me. I’m running a little late so I’ll be about forty minutes, an hour if I get lost. I don’t know where you are but you’d better be there when I arrive.’

  As she pulled out of the car park and onto the main road through town she wondered whether today should be the day. So many times she’d wanted to share her secret with Jen but she kept bottling out at the last minute. Her friend was no angel herself and what she’d been told, reluctantly by Paul, less so by Jen, was that their relationship had been brief and passionate, and based more on a love of arguing about writers than any great feeling for each other. But something stopped her. Maybe there was still some kind of loyalty there. It just wasn’t worth the risk.

  As she reached the junction off the main road and headed out towards the countryside, Abby tried to forget her problems. She wanted to focus on the here and now; the road signs and not getting lost. She listened to the noises of Beth gurgling her way to sleep in the backseat and wondered where Jen had got to when she said she couldn’t leave the house all day.

  Chapter Two

  Abby slowed down by the pub on Loftus High Street, a queue of traffic ahead. She craned her neck to try to see what was causing the holdup but a lorry in front blocked her view. She watched as two cars turned around. Whatever was causing the delay clearly wasn’t moving. Abby crawled forward, edging out slightly to see past the lorry before she rummaged in her bag for the directions she’d printed off. She traced her finger along the map, trying to work out where she was. She had two options. Left or right.

  Abby indicated and pulled out past the lorry. From the pub car park a white van took her place in the queue. She looked at the map again before turning right, then gla
nced in the rear-view mirror. Beth was sleeping soundly.

  When she finally came to the end of the track the daylight was a welcome relief from the endless canopy of branches. She paused at the junction before turning into the narrow country road.

  After hitting several potholes Abby looked back at Beth and marvelled that she was able to sleep through the turbulence. After a few hundred yards the last of the few houses disappeared and the trees cut out the light once more. Abby carried on straight ahead. As she looked in the mirror again she was surprised to see a white van was now behind her. She turned her eyes back to the road in front of her and opened the window a crack to let some air in. Looking back into the mirror to check on Beth she noticed the van getting closer. Her stomach tightened. The speed limit was sixty and, okay, she was only doing forty but she refused to speed up. Not on this road and not with Beth in the car. The van edged closer.

  ‘Arsehole,’ she muttered, wary of disturbing Beth.

  Begrudgingly, she moved to the left to let the van pass. It made no move to overtake, continuing to tailgate her.

  ‘For God’s sake,’ Abby muttered. ‘Even I could get it through there.’ She rolled her window down further and waved for the van to overtake. For ten seconds or so it stayed right where it was, Abby becoming more and more uncomfortable until it eventually sped up and pulled out to pass her. Abby watched in her wing-mirror as it moved alongside her. ‘Finally,’ she said, her fists unclenching.

  She looked up to the van’s passenger window to try to get a look at the idiot behind the wheel. Her eyes widened as the van swerved towards her. Instinctively she swung the wheel to the left and braked hard as the van scraped against her wing-mirror. The van jerked away from her and sped past as Abby tried to control the car. Bushes along the side of the road scratched loudly at the passenger window as the car bounced along, half on the road, half on the grass verge before it ground to a halt. Abby caught her breath and pulled her seatbelt off, scrambling around to check on Beth, her heart pounding.