Nightshade

68

Kathy Gibson pointed at the semi-detached house ahead of them. ‘There you go, number twenty-six, park anywhere near here,’ she said.

The photographer’s name was Dave McEwan, a dour Scot. He was a freelance but pretty much worked full-time for the Express. Kathy was staff and had been for six years, but she was considering an offer to move to the Mail on Sunday. The Bella Harper interview was just what she needed to get the Mail to increase their offer.

McEwan found a parking spot and reversed into it. Kathy checked her make-up in the overhead mirror while McEwan pulled his camera bag out of the boot.

‘Let’s get the family shots done right off,’ said Kathy. ‘It’ll give me the chance to get them talking. Then we’ll do the interview, then maybe hit the park.’

‘Sounds like a plan,’ said McEwan. ‘You got an angle?’

‘Pretty much writes itself,’ said Kathy. ‘Kidnap girl back in the bosom of her family, hopes and plans for the future. Great Sunday for Monday feature. We’re pretty much guaranteed a good show. Piece on the front and a centre spread.’

‘How much are they getting paid?’

‘You’re such a cynic.’

‘Just asking.’

‘Twenty-five grand is what I heard.’

McEwan grimaced. ‘Not much for what she went through,’ said Kathy.

‘That’s the thing. No one knows for sure what he did to her.’

‘They said raped, right? That was the charge, wasn’t it? Rape and abduction.’

‘One of my cop contacts says she was dead. Says that when they got into the house she was dead but the paramedic bought her round.’

‘Bastards,’ said McEwan. ‘It’s the woman I don’t get. Why would she help a paedophile?’

‘You’re asking the wrong person,’ said Kathy. ‘I’d hang the two of them without a moment’s thought. Have you got kids?’

‘In theory,’ said McEwan. ‘The wife has them now and I get to see them every second weekend. You?’

‘No, but I’ve got nieces that are Bella’s age and if anything happened to them …’ She shuddered. They reached the front door and Kathy pressed the bell.

Bella’s mother answered the door. Kathy remembered her from the numerous television appearances she’d made with her husband when her daughter was missing. She’d looked drawn and haggard back then, dark patches under her eyes from lack of sleep, her skin blotchy, her hair greasy and unkempt. But now she looked ten years younger, her hair was glossy, and she smiled brightly as Kathy introduced herself and the photographer.

Sandra shook hands with them both and showed them into her neat semi-detached home. Her husband was sitting on the sofa next to Bella. He’d put on weight since Bella had been found, and looked a lot happier. Like most of the viewing population, at the time Kathy had suspected that Will Harper had been involved in his daughter’s disappearance. It was almost a cliché that the male family member who appeared most often on television when a child had been killed turned out to be the murderer. Bella’s case had been unusual in two respects – she had come back and her kidnappers had been total strangers.

Will stood up and shook hands with them both. He was good-looking, tall with an unruly mop of chestnut hair that kept falling over his eyes, and Kathy knew that he’d photograph well.

‘And this is Bella,’ said Sandra.

Bella smiled up at them. ‘Pleased to meet you,’ she said.

Sandra offered them tea but Kathy said that they’d rather get on with the photographs first. She handed them over to McEwan and he ran through what he wanted. A family shot on the sofa, Bella playing with her toys, perhaps a walk to the park later.

‘What about Floppy?’ said Bella. ‘What about a photograph of me and Floppy?’

‘Floppy’s a rabbit?’ Bella nodded. McEwan said that was a great idea, and he spent the next hour taking the photographs as Kathy gently teased out the quotes that she wanted. How their prayers had been answered, how Bella’s abductors should be given the death penalty, how grateful they were to the police. It was all stock stuff but Kathy knew that it would be a good read. So many abducted children stories ended badly, and it was a pleasant change to write about a success story. Kathy intended to skip over what had happened to Bella during the hours she’d been held captive. She could only imagine the horrors that the nine-year-old had gone through, and her news editor had made it clear that she wasn’t to spell out the details.

McEwan took them out into the back garden to get pictures of Bella cuddling her rabbit. As Bella brushed her cheek against the animal’s soft white fur, she smiled over at Kathy. ‘I saw an angel,’ said Bella.

‘That’s nice,’ said Kathy.

‘Really. An angel came to see me.’

Kathy looked over at Bella’s mother. The mother smiled uncomfortably. ‘A real angel, with wings and a halo?’

‘No halo, but wings, yes. Really long wings with white feathers. Michael is an archangel, one of the top angels.’

‘And this was in a dream, was it?’

Bella shook her head. ‘It was real. But in my head. Do you understand?’

‘I’m not sure,’ said Kathy.

‘Michael said that I was dead. But that I wasn’t to be scared. He said Jesus wanted to talk to me.’

‘Jesus?’

Bella nodded excitedly. ‘Yes, Jesus Christ. He wanted to talk to me.’

‘And Michael took you to see him?’

‘We went to this huge white house. More like a palace. Everything was white and so clean and there were other angels there. And my Grandpa Arthur. And Auntie Eadie.’

Kathy looked over at Sandra, frowning.

‘Grandpa Arthur is my husband’s grandfather. Auntie Eadie was …’ She shrugged, wondering how she was going to explain it. ‘My mother had a baby before me. A girl. Eadie. She died very young. Bella never knew her.’ She shrugged again. ‘I can’t explain it, but that what she says happened.’

McEwan finished taking pictures of Kathy and the rabbit. ‘How about the park now?’ he asked.

‘You know what, I’m parched,’ said Kathy. She smiled at Sandra. ‘Don’t suppose there’s a chance of a cup of tea now?’

‘Of course,’ said Sandra. ‘I’ll put the kettle on.’

McEwan flashed Kathy an annoyed look but she smiled sweetly and touched him gently on the arm. ‘I want to keep them talking,’ she said. ‘Give me a few minutes, then we’ll head to the park.’

‘I’m worried about the light,’ he said, looking up at the grey clouds that were gathering overhead. ‘And it might rain.’

‘Half an hour, tops,’ said Kathy.

They followed Sandra and Bella into the kitchen. Bella sat down at the table and Kathy sat next to her. ‘Surely someone must have told Bella about this Grandpa Arthur and Auntie Eadie?’ she said to Sandra.

Sandra shook her head. ‘Never. Even I didn’t know that my mum had had another baby. And Will didn’t know the name of his grandfather. But we checked and yes, his paternal grandfather was Arthur Harper. He died long before Will was born.’ She turned on the kettle.

‘They were really nice to me,’ said Bella. ‘They said they would look after me when it was time for me to stay there but it wasn’t time yet.’

‘Bella, are you saying you were in Heaven?’

‘I don’t know where I was. It was a palace, I guess. But I don’t know where the palace was.’

Kathy frowned and ran a hand through her hair. What had started out as a simple family reunion story was becoming much more complex, and she wasn’t sure how the features editor was going to react if the story took a religious turn.

‘Perhaps we should talk about what you’re going to do this year,’ said Kathy. ‘What about Disneyland? Is that somewhere you’d like to go?’

‘Don’t you want to talk about Jesus?’ asked Bella.

‘We can talk about anything you want,’ said Kathy. ‘What about when you’re a grown-up, what do you want to do?’

‘I want to be a good person, like Jesus,’ said Kathy. ‘Jesus loves you, Kathy.’ She looked over at the photographer. ‘He loves you too, Dave.’

‘Good to know,’ said the photographer.

Bella smiled at him, then turned back to Kathy. ‘Jesus wants us all to be happy.’

‘I’m sure he does.’

‘He thinks there are lots of things wrong with the world and that we need to fix them.’

‘That’s interesting, Bella. Really. But let’s talk about you and what your plans are.’

‘Do you want to know what Jesus told me?’ asked Bella.

Kathy forced a smile. It was the last thing she wanted to know, but she needed to keep the little girl talking. ‘Sure,’ she said.

Bella crooked her little finger and beckoned her to move closer. ‘I have to whisper it,’ she said.