There was no way Missy would sleep that night and she had no idea why she was bothering to try. She kicked off the cheap, scratchy sheets and flicked on the bedside lamp, casting the sheets into a tone best described as ‘aged-yellow’. The hotel was a complete dive, but they took cash and when Missy said she had no identification the manager hadn’t batted an eyelid.
Since her check-in, there’d been a procession of trucks roaring in and out of the car park, headlights flashing into Missy’s room and footsteps that sounded a lot like stilettos. Thank goodness she hadn’t brought Ellie here. It was no place for a child.
She padded into the bathroom for a glass of water. At the tap, she gripped the sides of the basin and leant in. She’d never spent a night away from Ellie. Never spent more than a few hours away from her, except for work. Missy angled her head one way, then the other. Who was she in this gaping silence? What had she done? Could she still call herself a mother?
She leant out. Her hair was limp and unwashed. So long since it was cut, nearly grazing her hip now. She should cut it. Dye it. That’s what people did in her situation, didn’t they?
She twisted it up into a knot. Maybe not yet. Her hair was long, but thin. She could hide it under a cap, something she’d need to wear anyway, just to be sure
Emotionally and physically, she was spent. For most of the day, she’d discreetly staked out the Wheeldons’, almost sick with fear that the police would turn up at any moment.
They didn’t.
There was hope.
Watching from behind the low brick wall of a seemingly vacant home, Missy had watched Lisa leave and then return a short time later with Ellie, her arm slung over the child’s shoulders. Missy knew exactly where they’d been. The granny flat would have been the first place she’d go too, if she’d been in Lisa’s position. Question was—what would Lisa do next?
Minutes had become hours. Missy watched the clouds and made pictures out of them, something she did with Ellie. She had seen the bloke on the Vespa arrive but didn’t catch a look at his face, because of the helmet and the approaching sunset. He’d left pretty quickly as well. Missy presumed he was no one special.
Then nothing. Maybe the letter would be enough? Maybe Lisa would intuitively understand the desperation of the situation? Maybe she would prove to be the loving, wonderful mother that Missy believed her to be? Her plan was to stick close for a couple of days, just to make sure Ellie was safe, and that Lisa Wheeldon had no intention of passing her into the hands of the authorities.
Missy had trusted the police, once. She’d believed their promises. Taken them at their word and put her life in their hands, confident in their powers to keep her and Ellie safe. After all, they were the people that caught the crooks and stood up for justice. They were the people you were told to trust, as if the uniform gave them special powers.
But they were just human beings. She knew that now. Trusting them had made her and Ellie vulnerable. There were good ones and bad ones—just as there were in all walks of life. Policing was, after all, a job. It wasn’t, necessarily, who you were. It wasn’t even necessarily for life. Not like being a mother. That’s why Missy had chosen Lisa. A loving mother would do more to protect a child than the police ever would.
At least, that’s what she hoped.