The Forgotten Child. D. E. White

had any reporters hanging around in the last few days. Whilst you were in hospital they were parked out front for a bit, even knocking on the door when I was over stocking the fridge, and I told you I went over and had a word … I get that it’s a good story but they’ve got no right to turn up on your doorstep. That poor boy … I just keep thinking why the hell haven’t his parents reported him missing? It really gets me to think maybe he doesn’t have anyone, any family to worry about him …’

      The phantom child in Holly’s car was a great story, but so far both police and journalists had drawn a blank. A police appeal had been on the national news, giving sparse details and focusing on the fact that somewhere, someone must know a child was missing. Her name hadn’t been mentioned but from her previous experience she knew journalists had ways and means of tracking people down. Although DC Marriot had told her the boy seemed to be improving and the most recent scans were encouraging, nobody could really be certain he was okay, until he regained consciousness.

      She would go back and visit him this week. Perhaps subconsciously he would know that somebody was looking out for him. In a weird way he had been given to her, and she felt responsible until another superseded her claim.

      ‘Do they know who the other boy is yet?’ Milo asked suddenly, abandoning his drawing and hopping into the living room. ‘I mean, what if they already know who he is but they aren’t telling us?’ He was fiddling with the TV remote, half his attention on the task in hand, half focused on this intriguing subject. He’d brought it up numerous times every day since they’d been out of hospital. After a couple of days of being pale and withdrawn, he had gradually recovered his bounce and confidence. But the questions were the same: Was the boy conscious yet? Why was he in the car? Who put him there? Lately he had started on this conspiracy theory, and become convinced the police knew the boy’s identity.

      DC Marriot’s colleague, DS Steph Harlow had carefully questioned Milo, but he said he remembered nothing after the deer leaping across the road, until he woke up in hospital. When Holly reminded him what he had said about the man leaving the other boy in the car, his chin set stubbornly and he shook his head. The nurse told her later that the memories could come back, but it was also possible that now Milo was fully awake, he was simply blocking out the whole traumatic event, and even if he did remember, he didn’t want to share it.

      The doorbell rang and Holly made a move to get up, even as her aunt went to the door, her high-heeled fluffy mules tapping on the wooden floor. She could hear the initial stilted conversation, and frowned. Great, Tom was the last person she wanted to see. It was a shame he couldn’t have stayed abroad. He had returned from his overseas lecture tour two days after the accident, but had made sure his visits to Milo in hospital didn’t coincide with Holly’s. Then, reassured by the medical staff that Milo was on the mend, he had resumed his tour, and departed for a further three days in Berlin.

      ‘Dad!’ Recognising the voice, Milo scrambled for his crutches and hopped proficiently out of the room.

      ‘Hallo, mate, how are you doing?’

      ‘Yeah, I’m okay. Mum’s doing well too, says her leg is nearly better but mine is actually broken.’

      ‘I know. I wanted to come back sooner, but I needed stay for this work conference … Still, it’s all done now. Want to see what I bought you?’

      ‘Yes! Am I coming to stay with you when Mum goes back to work?’

      ‘Come inside properly then, and I’ll show you your present.’ Tom had been walking down the hall as he greeted his son but now they both appeared in the doorway. Tom was carrying a large square box, wrapped in shiny green paper.

      Holly nodded politely at her ex-husband, but couldn’t bring herself to speak. The sight of yet another expensive present for Milo made her wince. She supposed he was doing it to make up for the divorce, but it made things awkward, and highlighted the fact she couldn’t afford to buy her son expensive presents. Her aunt scowled at Tom, muttered something about a cup of tea and vanished into the kitchen.

      ‘So, Holly, how are you feeling?’ He was clearly forcing himself to be civil, and without waiting for an answer he carefully pulled Milo close to his side, dropping a kiss on his blonde head. ‘Thank God Milo is okay.’

      She managed to respond to this. ‘Yes, he’s fine now. He’s going back to school on Monday. Milo, can you go and help Lydia while I chat to your dad? He can come and play football with you in the garden in a minute, okay? And then you can open your present too.’ Holly smiled. ‘I did say he shouldn’t be playing football, but he’s determined to be goalie at the very least.’

      For a split second they shared a look over Milo’s head. A tiny golden moment that reminded Holly of when Milo was first born, and they used to stand next to his crib, watching him sleep, totally in awe of this tiny human being they had created. But then it was over, Tom’s expression changing to one of disdain as he spotted her roster on the coffee table.

      ‘Are you really going back to work?’

      ‘Of course.’ She smiled thinly. ‘I need to earn money somehow, remember?’ She turned back to Milo. ‘Go on, sweetie, go outside for a bit while I speak to your dad.’

      He frowned, looked from one to the other and then reluctantly hopped towards the kitchen.

      Holly looked at Tom. His brown hair was just slightly too long, his navy tweed jacket worn over a crisp blue-striped shirt that emphasised his dark blue eyes. He had picked up a faint tan, despite the fact that he always complained he never saw the outside world when he was on a lecture tour. He smelt of his usual expensive aftershave. Once, the combination had turned her on, but now she wanted to throw up. It was such a cliché to have fallen for her university lecturer. Even more of a cliché to have imagined she could ride off into the sunset with him.

      She had a sudden flash of memory – Jayden sitting on her bed, seizing her book, chucking it out the open window, and telling her fairy tales were total bollocks. As an elder brother he had clearly felt it was up to him to lay down the law. He must have been about eight when he said that, but she had already grown taller than him. Little git.

      ‘Are you really managing with the mortgage repayments? I would have thought you should be thinking about downsizing,’ he said, sitting casually on the sofa. Tom’s upper-class voice was light, almost disinterested, but she was sure there was a bit of sarcasm in there.

      Memories stung. She had been in love with him, she was sure of it. Now he had moved on. Another young woman, another home, soon probably another kid on the way. Lydia was one of only two people who had ever expressed doubt over Holly’s choice of husband. He had fooled most of them with his charm and good looks. ‘We’re fine, thank you for asking. I’ve been doing overtime.’

      ‘Still working in the call centre? You should have finished your degree, Holly.’ His smug, self-satisfied face was highlighted by the crisp winter light as he stood, poised in front of the big bay windows like an actor on stage.

      The unfairness of this statement made her catch her breath. ‘Whatever you want to think. I’m sure we don’t need to meet up to go over the childcare arrangements for the next month, so why don’t we just do this by email in future. It’ll save us both the hassle,’ Holly told him. She hated herself for still searching his face some kind of affection, anything but this cold, amused sarcasm. Why did he hate her so much? She should mention the texts, she really should.

      ‘I’m sure that will be fine. Beth is so good at working out my diary, and now we have the spare room organised Milo can come and stay for the weekends.’ His eyes were challenging her to comment.

      ‘I’m sure he’d like that. While he isn’t in the room, Tom, I would like to speak to you about something.’

      His expression was wary, and he leaned back a little, away from her.

      ‘I can’t pretend that everything is okay, and that I’m not still unbelievably hurt by what you did, but you made your choice.’

      ‘You threw me out remember, Holly. It wasn’t my