The police are on the steps. There’s a man who is examining me with mild disdain and a woman wearing a much kinder expression. I quickly run my fingers through the hair I haven’t brushed and focus on the woman.
‘Mrs Carlson?’ She takes the last step upward so that we are on the same level. She has a trim figure, slightly wide at the hips, flat at the front, flattened further by her belt and uniform shirt. Her eyes are grey-blue, peering at my face with sharp intelligence, unlike her colleague who is examining my ratty gown and slippers. She’s a little older than me, but it is hard to tell exactly, because her hair is pulled into a severe bun which drags her skin back from her nose and smooths out her forehead. She has a scattering of freckles and skin that would likely burn on a warm May afternoon. She is waiting for my answer.
‘Yes, I’m Bridget … Bridge.’ I wrap my arms around my waist. ‘Are you here because you found the …’
‘Could we possibly speak indoors?’ The woman smiles and I find myself smiling back. I step nervously to one side. They walk past me, into the hallway.
‘Thank you,’ the woman says as I close the door. We crowd into the narrow corridor which suddenly feels crushingly small.
Tom appears in the living room doorway, Grace on his hip. ‘Who is …’ He stops. ‘Oh … right.’ He lifts a staring Grace onto his shoulder. ‘Shall I make tea?’
Grace’s eyes are wide and a little frightened. She buries her head in Tom’s shoulder.
‘Look at the police, Grace.’ Tom points. ‘Look at their uniforms. Just like on Paw Patrol.’
Grace refuses to lift her head.
‘Cute kid,’ the man says.
‘May we?’ The woman points and I let Tom take Grace into the kitchen before I lead them into the living room.
‘Sorry about the mess.’ I look helplessly at Grace’s toys.
‘That’s fine.’ The woman smiles again. ‘You should see my house, it’s like a tornado blew through after an earthquake. I never have time to clean.’
I brush some crumbs off the sofa in a mild panic. ‘You can sit here … if that’s okay?’
They sit, seeming expectant.
‘Oh, right.’ I collapse onto the chair opposite and press my hands between my knees. ‘This is about last night?’
The woman nods and takes out a notebook. The man appears to be taking a mental inventory of the room. I follow his gaze: one baby bouncer, one plate with a toast crust on it, two coffee cups, a bottle with milk dregs clinging to the plastic sides, a dummy, Tom’s laptop.
‘I’m Sergeant Shaw,’ the woman says. ‘You can call me Naomi.’ She gestures to her partner. ‘This is Sergeant Ward.’
Ward nods.
Tom comes and stands in the doorway but Grace isn’t with him. ‘I’ve left her in her Bumbo,’ he says in answer to my unspoken question. ‘She’s got a rice cake, she’s fine.’
Naomi smiles. ‘Sorry to bother you this early, but we have some follow-up questions for your wife.’
Ward leans forward, speaking to me. ‘You may not know this, but you were the only passenger on the train who admitted to seeing anything.’ He has a clean-shaven face with two razor nicks on the left side of his shallow jaw. His eyes are deep-set, his sockets dark as if he is wearing Halloween make-up. He looks ghoulish. I wipe my hands on my knees.
‘Was I?’ No-one else in my carriage had seen the girl, but on the whole train? ‘There must have been someone else looking out the window.’
‘No-one who’s saying so.’ Naomi glances at her partner. ‘But don’t worry, it just means that you’re the only one willing to put yourself out. This is a kid we’re talking about. You’re a good person, Mrs Carlson.’
I look at Tom again. ‘The kettle’s boiling,’ he says, returning to the kitchen.
‘Did you … did you find her? Or find out who she is?’ My fingers ache and I realise that I’m digging them into my thighs so hard that the knuckles are showing white through my chapped skin. I try to relax.
Naomi sighs. ‘Not at this time. That’s why we need your help. No-one has reported a child missing.’
I jerk. ‘But that’s not possible! Why wouldn’t—’
Ward answers. ‘Sadly, there’re a number of reasons a parent might not report a child missing. The family could be in the country illegally.’ He holds up a finger. ‘Perhaps each parent thinks she is with the other.’ He shows me another finger as I gasp. ‘Some communities like to try and resolve things without getting the police involved. She could be escaping abuse—’
‘But she’s a little girl. It’s not like she’s a teenager.’ I think of Grace. What possible scenario would have me unaware of her location even in six years, or ten, or fifteen?
‘Maybe the person who left her at the platform has realised she hasn’t reached her destination but is afraid of being blamed for leaving her unsupervised,’ Naomi says gently. ‘We’ll probably get a call when they realise it isn’t just a case of the little girl getting off at the wrong station or wandering off.’
A knot ties up my stomach. ‘You think some mum somewhere let her little girl travel by train alone and she’s only just realising she didn’t get where she was meant to.’
‘It’s possible.’
‘Christ.’
‘So, as you’re our only lead at the moment, we really need to get as much information as possible.’
I flush. ‘I told you all I could.’
‘Yes, but last night the team was pushed for time, trying to get through all the possible witnesses, hoping to build a bigger picture. Now we know it’s just you we need to make sure we’ve got all the information. Things you might not even be aware you know.’
Tom walks back into the room. He has four cups on a tray, a bottle of milk, the sugar jar and two spoons. He puts the tray on the table and hands mine to me. It is already tan. I wrap my palms around the ceramic, grateful for the warmth. I hadn’t realised how cold I was. He kneels on the floor beside me, one hand on my leg.
‘Grace?’ I ask.
‘I’ll stay here until she kicks off.’ Tom squeezes my knee and I nod.
Naomi and Ward help themselves to coffee. Ward looks at the tray with a disappointed expression.
‘You didn’t bring biscuits,’ I whisper.
‘We’re out,’ Tom mutters. I look down at his crispy brown curls, starting to thin slightly at the top. He needs a haircut and a shave. My fault he hasn’t had the chance.
‘Mrs Carlson?’ Naomi says gently. ‘Can I just go over a few things?’
I pull the cup to my face, letting the steam form a kind of barrier between us.
‘You called us at 22.20.’
‘I guess so.’ I look at my phone. ‘I can check.’
‘Go ahead.’
I pull up my recent calls and find the one to the police. I show them the screen and Naomi smiles.
‘You said the abduction happened earlier, but your phone wasn’t working?’ She frowns at the phone.
‘There wasn’t any reception.’ I swallow. ‘It was in that bit, you know, between here and London?’ I look at Tom. ‘The reception is really spotty. I called as soon as I picked up a signal.’
‘Of course you did,’ Tom says gently.
‘Who are you with?’ Ward asks.
Tom answers for me. ‘We’re both on EE.’
Ward makes a note. ‘I’ll make a call. Get a map of the area where there’s no signal, get an exact location.’
‘You don’t have a location?’ Tom stiffens.
Naomi glances at her partner. ‘To be honest, in the time between Bridget getting on the train and making the call, the train passed fourteen stations, not including South Hampstead, Kilburn High Road and Harlesden. There are seven which we think are possible and we’re checking CCTV at five.’
‘And the other two?’ Tom’s voice is a weirdly formal version of its usual self.
‘At one the cameras weren’t working. Some teenagers vandalised them the day before, and they hadn’t been fixed.’
‘And the other?’
‘There’s a blind spot on the platform, thanks to a new sign.’
A furious yell comes from the kitchen. Tom sighs and gets to his feet. ‘My time’s up. Will you be all right, Bridge? I shouldn’t bring her in here.’
‘It’s fine. Take her to her room and read her some stories.’
Tom vanishes and Naomi looks at me. ‘Last night you said you thought you’d already passed Kenton?’
‘I thought so, but … they go by so fast. I couldn’t swear to it.’
‘All right.’ She makes a note.
‘And you said there was a single light at the station. Do you mean there were no other lights, no other lights working, or is it just that was the light which caught your attention, because it was shining on the girl?’
My eyes widen. ‘Wow, I don’t … I’m not sure.’
‘Try and think,’ Naomi puts her cup down. ‘Every little detail can help us narrow the station down.’
I close my eyes. ‘I only remember seeing one light. The others might have been broken … maybe?’
‘And you said there was a coffee booth. Do you remember the franchise?’
‘Pumpkin Café? I–I’m not sure.’
‘Are you just saying that because it’s most likely?’ Ward tilts his head.
‘Maybe.’ My hands are shaking, my coffee in danger of spilling. I put my cup down. ‘I think I saw the logo but it was all so fast, and it was the girl who caught my attention.’
‘All right,’ Naomi says. ‘Don’t worry. Can you remember hearing any announcements on the train, before or after the station?’
I shake my head. ‘I was kind of dozing … in and out, you know.’
‘Dozing?’ Ward’s voice is suddenly sharp.
‘I didn’t dream this.’ I shift forward in my chair. ‘I saw her.’
‘No-one’s saying you did.’ Naomi shoots a warning look sideways, then returns her gaze to me. ‘You said she was sitting on a case.’
‘An old leather suitcase. And she had a blazer on, like a school blazer, you know. She had dark hair.’
‘A school blazer.’ Naomi’s eyes narrow. ‘No chance you saw the colour, or any other details?’
‘It was all so fast.’
‘I understand.’
‘And it was dark.’ I’m shivering now.
‘What about the van you mentioned?’ Ward leans forward, intense. ‘You said it was white. Can you tell us anything else about it?’
‘N-no.’ I shake my head.
Naomi takes my hand; hers is warm and a little callused. ‘Close your eyes. Think about the van you saw. Was it a big van or a small one? The size of, say, a post van, or was it something a workman might drive, or one you might use to move a sofa, or double bed?’
I hesitate. ‘Bigger than a post van,’ I say eventually. ‘But too small for a house move.’
‘All right. And you’re sure it was plain white? Really think, no logos on the side or back, no markings?’
‘I didn’t see the side, just the back.’
‘And the licence plate?’
I shake my head, feeling more and more useless by the second.
‘And finally,’ Naomi squeezes my hand, ‘you saw two men.’
I nod.
‘Can you tell me anything about them? Anything at all? For example, were they Caucasian?’
‘One definitely was.’ I picture his hand around the girl’s arm. ‘The other … I’m not sure.’
‘Well done.’ Naomi nods. ‘What about build? Tall? Short? Fat? Thin?’
‘I …’ I hesitate. ‘One was quite big, definitely. The other was smaller, slimmer.’
‘Little and Large,’ Ward says.
I don’t smile. ‘Yes, I suppose.’
Naomi glances at Ward and then back at me. ‘You’re sure both were men? I mean if one was so much smaller, could it have been a man and a woman?’
‘I don’t …’ I hesitate. ‘I hadn’t thought. I just assumed … two men.’
‘All right, don’t worry.’ Naomi pats my hand. ‘Instincts are often right. Perhaps it was something in the way the smaller one moved that made you think male. The walk, or—’
‘Yes.’ I flush. ‘That must be it.’
‘Okay.’ She looks at her notebook. ‘What about hair colour?’
‘It was—’
‘Dark, I know. Don’t worry. What about style – did you see? Short, long?’
‘One was wearing a hat.’ I sit up. ‘The smaller one. Little. A woollen hat, like a beanie, pulled down low. The other had short hair.’
‘And what were they wearing?’
‘Jackets. Dark jackets.’
‘Short or long? Formal? Casual? Leather? Denim?’
‘Like bomber jackets. One of them might have been denim … I don’t—’
Naomi looks at Ward. ‘Anything else?’
Ward shakes his head.
‘We’re going to keep looking, Mrs Carlson.’ Naomi stands up, putting her notebook away. She hands me a card. ‘Call me if you think of anything else.’
‘But what if it’s the station with no CCTV, or the blind spot?’
‘Then we’ll have to investigate local businesses, see if their cameras caught the van. We’ll canvas the local area, look for another witness.’
‘And you’ll find her?’
‘That’s our job.’ Ward stalks into the corridor, looking as he does, into the kitchen, his eyes flickering over the table. ‘Nice-looking family.’ He points to the photo above the breakfast bar, taken at Grace’s baptism: June and Charlie, Mum, the godparents Neil and Sam, Tom, Grace and myself, looking overweight in my one stretchy dress and shocked, as if the camera had taken me by surprise. Mum had it framed for me.
‘Thanks.’
As I see them out, Naomi hesitates, letting Ward start their car without her. ‘Try not to worry,’ she says. ‘Ward works harder than anyone on this kind of case. There’s a boy …’ She shakes her head. ‘I can’t say any more, but just know that we’ll be doing our utmost to find her.’
I shut the door behind her. Tom stands at the top of the stairs with Grace. ‘Are you all right?’
I nod. Then, more honestly, I shake my head. ‘No-one’s reported her missing, Tom. No-one’s even noticed that she’s gone.’
‘Here.’ He brings Grace down and hands her to me. I bury my face in her hair and shudder. Tom puts his arms around us both and I melt into his warmth.