Page 38 of The Stolen Child

‘It’s fine,’ Sally whispered to her.

Elsie ignored her and moved closer to Cyril. ‘I mean no disrespect, but you’d want your daughter to be treated fairly, wouldn’t you?’ Her voice softened. ‘Please, gaffer. It’s the weekend, and she hasn’t a bob to her name.’

Cyril sighed and pulled a five-pound note from his wallet. ‘This is all you’re getting. So don’t ask for a penny more. Don’t make me regret being this generous.’

Elsie’s response was to rush over to Cyril and kiss him loudly on his cheek.

‘Get off me, woman,’ he complained, but a big smile broke out over his face.

As they walked the two miles home, arm in arm, while Sally was exhausted, she could not stop grinning. She’d found a job, had enough money to buy some groceries and, more important than anything else, she had found her best friend again.

THEN

July 1983

Kimberly

The Guardia Civil, Barcelona, Spain

‘The posters you’ve been distributing and the media we’ve already had in the Spanish local and national press have brought forward another set of leads,’ Inspector Ortega said.

‘What are they?’ Jason interrupted, his face alight with excitement.

Ortega held his hand up. ‘We are working our way through them. Rest assured, we will make sure everything is followed up. Now is the time to amplify. I’ve arranged for a press conference in one hour. Kimberly, we need you to make a televised plea for Robert.’

Kimberly gagged, her reaction visceral and raw. ‘I can’t.’

Kimberly felt Jason’s hand reach over and touch her back, but she shrugged it off. She felt too warm, and his hand felt like a red-hot poker.

‘Can I do it on my own?’ Jason asked, casting a worried look in Kimberly’s direction. ‘I don’t think my wife is up to it.’

Inspector Ortega inched his chair towards Kimberly. ‘Both parents must be at the press conference. I will be there too. You will only have to make a statement, which our team will help you prepare now. I’ll handle all questions.’

Kimberly’s stomach flipped at the thought of speaking publicly in front of cameras. She’d always shied away from the limelight and didn’t do well in large groups. When she joined the local mother and toddler group with Robert two years ago, she’d only managed one visit. As soon as the mothers began questioning her about her life, she felt panicky and under a too-bright spotlight.

‘I don’t mind answering questions,’ Jason said. ‘I have nothing to hide.’

An edge had crept into his voice as he said that. A couple of media reports had speculated about his relationship with Robert, questioning his love for his stepson.

‘Very well, but we need Kimberly too,’ Ortega insisted.

Kimberly’s mind raced as she contemplated doing this. The more she thought about it, being on display, the whole world watching her, the more her body trembled and shook. She felt nausea rise through her in waves until she had no choice but to bolt for a bathroom, where she was violently ill.

An hour later, with Kimberly still unable to stop retching, it was conceded that the interview would go ahead without her. Inspector Ortega and Jason sat on a platform about five or six inches high in front of a desk. Several TV crews were filming, with a dozen photographers and at least thirty press, their Dictaphones and microphones pointed towards them. As soon as they walked out, the cameras began flashing, paps snapping.

Inspector Ortega began by addressing the room and sharing the rules of engagement. He’d make a short statement, followed by a statement from Jason, and then he would answer any questions.

Kimberly knew that Ortega was disappointed in her. He’d insisted that it was crucial for the public to see Kimberly’s pain at the press conference. But she knew Ortega and her husband could never understand why she couldn’t endure it.

‘And now I’ll ask you all to be respectful and remain quiet as Mr Murphy addresses the room,’ Inspector Ortega said. He turned to Jason and nodded.

Jason picked up her handwritten statement and began to read, keeping his eyes down. The room became deathly quiet, with the only sound the occasional click of a camera lens. He cleared his throat, took a sip from his water and looked to his left, towards Kimberly. She wasn’t sure he would be able to continue, and she felt a further flash of pain, seeing the agony that was evident on her husband’s face.

This wasn’t fair to anyone, but Jason had it worse than the lot of them. He was dealing with so much more than a missing child. She closed her eyes momentarily and thought of her little boy in her arms as she read a story to him. And she knew she had to continue being brave and get through these next moments without causing further scenes.

‘Hello. My name is Jason Murphy. I am Robert’s daddy. Kimberly wanted to speak to you all too, but she’s too upset, so she has asked me to do this on our behalf. He is two and a half years old, with blond curls just like his mum. He has her blue eyes too, but they look grey sometimes. He is such a smart little boy – quiet and thoughtful, but he has a mischievous side too. He had so much fun in the swimming pool every day, splashing us all.’

Kimberly heard a ripple of quiet laughter in the room. Glancing towards the audience, she saw faces looking at her husband in sympathy. She felt their support, that they wanted to help her family find her son.