Chapter 25

TWENTY-FIVE

Hospitals are rabbit warrens at the best of times, and it took two different lifts and five lengthy corridors before Joanna reached the baby unit. With relief, she saw Annabelle waiting outside, punching instructions into her mobile phone, a face like a stormy day. Even from a distance, she intimidated Joanna. Old feelings die hard.

When she looked up, her frown smoothed out into something more sympathetic. ‘Joanna. I'm so sorry about Charlotte. But why didn't you tell me that the baby had been born?'

That sentence was exactly why she hadn't called her. That, and the fact that the most precious human being in the world had just died. Her grief made her bold. ‘I've had rather a lot to be dealing with, Annabelle.'

Annabelle's shoulders softened beneath her pale-pink tailored jacket. ‘I'm sorry. Of course. How was it?'

How was it? Joanna had no idea how to answer that question. How were the last minutes of her daughter's life? Not ten minutes ago she'd held her precious child for the last time ever in this world. Even if she could articulate the deep, debilitating grief that consumed every part of her, she wasn't about to share it here, with her. She kept her response brief. ‘Very hard.'

Annabelle dipped her head a little; perhaps she realised how inappropriate her question had been. ‘I'm sorry. I can't begin to imagine how you feel. This must be incredibly difficult. She truly was a wonderful girl. We'll all miss her so very much.'

Joanna didn't quite know how to respond. She'd been so knotted up with the knowledge that Annabelle had known about Charlotte's pregnancy that she hadn't stopped to think what that meant. That Annabelle and Charlotte must've had a good relationship.

Her own experience had been very different. The one and only time she'd met Jacob's parents – he'd invited her to his house for a garden party they were throwing – she'd been totally out of her depth. It wasn't that they'd made her unwelcome – they were far too well-mannered to do that – it was that she knew she didn't fit. The outfit she'd chosen, the way she spoke, the references they made to plays and books and music that she knew nothing about. Jacob's family hadn't been unkind, but they hadn't gone out of their way to be kind, either.

From the moment she'd recognised Annabelle, she'd assumed it'd been the same for Charlotte. Having experienced Annabelle's attitude at school, she'd imagined exactly how she would've responded to Freddie's relationship with Charlotte.

But what if she'd been wrong? Annabelle didn't know that Charlotte was the daughter of the girl that Annabelle had bullied at school, did she? Maybe they'd got close and, much as the very thought twisted Joanna's stomach, maybe she needed to stop letting her memory of the younger Annabelle cloud her judgement of the woman who clearly cared for her daughter?

‘Thank you. That's kind of you to say.'

Annabelle's smile was gentle. ‘And how is the baby…is it a boy or a girl?'

Joanna swallowed the lump in her throat. ‘Charlotte had a little girl.'

Annabelle's hand fluttered to her chest. Under the bright-yellow strip light in the corridor, the tears in her eyes glinted almost as much as the large diamond on her finger. ‘A girl? Oh, how wonderful. I've always wanted a grandaughter. A girl. Is she very tiny? Is she going to be okay? Who does she look like? Can I come in and see her now?'

Her questions rained down on Joanna's head. She focused on the last one. ‘You can't come and see her yet. It's a restricted ward.'

Annabelle's perfectly groomed eyebrows pulled together. ‘I don't understand. You're allowed in there and I'm the same relationship to the baby as you are.'

Joanna squeezed her fists at her side; anxiety prickled at the possible implications of that statement. ‘It's because I've been here with Charlotte. They won't want too many different visitors. There'll be a risk of infection if there's too many people.'

She was freewheeling here, making it up as she went along. She'd say anything to stop Annabelle getting anywhere near her precious grandaughter. Even as she did so, she knew that she was being unfair. The baby was Annabelle's grandchild as much as hers. But she'd just lost her daughter; didn't she get to keep the baby to herself for a little while at least?

Disbelief flashed across Annabelle's face, but, before she could reply, the door in front of them buzzed then clicked open and an exhausted-looking couple in their mid-thirties emerged blinking against the bright electric light. The man slipped his arm around the woman and kissed the side of her head. ‘Come on. It's just a quick coffee. You need a break, love.'

He smiled and nodded at Joanna and Annabelle as they left. Joanna returned the smile, then closed her eyes as she listened to their footsteps tap away from them up the corridor, presumably in the direction of the canteen. If only Charlotte had met someone like that. Someone caring and supportive and kind. When she turned to look at Annabelle, her eyes were full of tears.

‘I wish Freddie could be here to meet his daughter. It breaks my heart to think of all he's missing out on.'

Her grief seemed so genuine that it chipped away at the shell of distrust Joanna had protected herself with. Whatever she thought of Freddie, she could understand why Annabelle would feel like this.

Annabelle pulled a packet of tissues from her bag and dabbed one of them under her eyes. ‘He's in absolute pieces about Charlotte. Whatever the police are thinking, I know he didn't do it, Joanna. You'd know it, too if you'd seen them together. They were inseparable. They were so happy at their apartment, building their home.'

Joanna felt another twist of jealousy. Followed immediately by guilt. She hadn't seen them together because of her own stupid pride. If she had, she might've known what kind of man he was. She'd know better whether he'd done this awful thing. For the first time, she saw herself through Annabelle's eyes. The mother who'd been so difficult about her daughter's boyfriend that she'd pushed her away. More of the hard shell crumbled away. ‘This last year, since losing my husband…it's been really tough.'

Annabelle nodded. ‘I know how hard it is to lose a husband.'

Of course, she'd understand. She'd been through the same thing, hadn't she? ‘I think I lost myself a little bit, too. Charlotte and I…we struggled.'

Annabelle's face was kind. ‘She was close to her father, wasn't she?'

‘Yes, but I don't just mean that.' The guilt that'd sat just beneath the surface for the last few days needed to come out. ‘We argued. Before this happened. About her and Freddie. We were barely on speaking terms. When she died, we hadn't seen each other for almost two weeks. The last thing I said to her was something about me being right and her being wrong. I can't bear it that she died not knowing how sorry I am for that.'

She fought to keep the tears under control. Annabelle pulled another tissue from the packet and passed it to her. ‘You need to be kind to yourself, Joanna. Grief makes us act strangely sometimes. I'm sure she knew you wanted the best for her. We all just want the best for our children.'

She managed to raise a smile at Annabelle. ‘Thank you.'

For a few beats they stood opposite one another. Two mothers who only wanted the best for their children, now connected by one tiny little girl.

Joanna nodded her head in the direction of the door. ‘I'm just going to go and check on the baby. I have some photos of her. Would you like me to send them to you?'

She slipped her phone from her pocket and showed Annabelle the last picture she'd taken, the baby a fragile little sparrow in a huge plastic crib. But perfect too.

Annabelle gasped. ‘Oh, she's beautiful. What a precious little girl. And she's a Knight-Crossley alright, look at that brow. Freddie had that when he was born. Looked just like my father-in-law.'

Joanna's throat tightened. ‘Actually, I think she looks just like Charlotte. Her long fingers and toes are just like her mummy's.'

Annabelle tilted her head to get a better look. ‘Well, let's hope we get a bit of both of them in there. Yes, please send it and I'll forward it to Freddie, he'll be so pleased to see her. Our solicitor is working on getting him out for the day so he can meet his daughter. But this will keep him going in the meantime.'

The hairs on the back of Joanna's neck rose. Come here? Would they really let him out to come to the hospital if he was being held on suspicion of murder? To avoid Annabelle's eyes, she stared at her phone screen as she sent the photograph to her number.

When it beeped to show the photo had arrived, Annabelle waved her phone. ‘Got it. Thank you. Please let me know as soon as I can come in to see the baby.'

Through everything that had happened in the last twenty-four hours, the baby had been the one thing that had kept Joanna upright. And now, when she was barely in the world, she was going to have to consider that Freddie's mother would have just as much of a claim on her as Joanna did.

Annabelle's phone started to ring in her hand and she picked it up and spoke loudly. ‘Hello, George? Yes, hang on, the reception is terrible in here.' She held the phone to her chest to mute the call and spoke to Joanna. ‘Our family solicitor. I'm hoping to find out when Freddie can get out for a visit here. Keep me informed about our grandaughter.'

She left with a wave and Joanna waited until she'd turned the corner before holding on to the wall to get her breath. She couldn't go into the baby like this; she needed to compose herself. But how could she do that with the threat of her daughter's attacker, her murderer, working out a way that he could come and get his hands on their daughter?

Once she had her breath back, she scrolled through on her phone and found the number for DC Lineham. She answered in a couple of rings. ‘Hi Joanna. How are you doing?'

She had no time for the niceties. ‘Charlotte's gone.'

The police officer's voice was kind. ‘I'm so sorry.'

She had to keep pressing on, not think about Charlotte right now. ‘And the baby has been born. She's in the Intensive Therapy Unit. The nurse said she's doing well.'

‘That's really great, Joanna. I'm so pleased. Have you seen her?'

‘Yes, and I'm about to go back in. But I wanted to ask you about Freddie Knight-Crossley. His mother seems to think that he'll get permission to come and visit the baby. That can't be right, can it?'

There was a moment of quiet on the other end. ‘Would you like me to come and see you? I can be there in a couple of hours?'

She didn't like the sound of that. ‘No, I'll be in with the baby. But can he come?'

Her voice on the other end of the phone was gentle but firm. ‘I can understand your fears, but it is likely that he will get permission to come and see his newborn child. Especially as he hasn't been convicted yet.'

Nausea rose up in Joanna's throat. The door to the special care unit clicked open again and a nurse came out. Joanna backed away from the door and lowered her voice. ‘But it's his fault that the baby doesn't have a mother.'

‘He hasn't been to trial yet and the thing is…'

She tailed off and fear lurched in Joanna's stomach. ‘The thing is what?'

‘There's a possibility that we don't have enough evidence to proceed to trial. His solicitor is putting quite a lot of pressure on.'

The last remark had a definite change in tone. Joanna could well imagine the amount of money he made from working for the Knight-Crossley family. ‘But you have to get the evidence. You have to make sure he gets convicted. He can't go free.'

‘Look. Let me come and see you. It'll be a lot easier to talk about this in person.'

Joanna was almost numb with the different emotions she was having to deal with. Right now, all she wanted to do was make sure that her grandaughter was okay. It was unbearable, imagining her laying there all alone. ‘Okay. Tomorrow?'

‘Tomorrow is good. Any particular time suit you best? Shall I meet you at home or come to the hospital?'

‘The hospital. I'll be here all day.'

‘Okay. I'll confirm a time in the morning.'

As soon as she'd ended the call, her phone dinged with a text message. Then another. The first was from Sally. The second from Annabelle.

She read Sally's first. I'm at the car and about to drive home. If you need me for ANYTHING, just call. ANY time. I mean it xxx

That was friendship. Knowing that you had someone you could call for support. Who would be there for you, no matter what.

Reluctantly, she opened the message from Annabelle, expecting another demand for photographs of the baby. But her stomach flipped over when she read it. I've finally worked out where I know you from. You were Joanna Stafford, weren't you? You're the one whose father went to prison.