The Girl in the Rug Read online

  ‘Come on,’ she said with a long suffering sigh as she lifted him out of bed, ‘we need to get you to the hospital.’

  Mum dressed him really carefully and then called for a cab. On the way she said it might be best if I told them that I had spilt a hot cup of tea down my front, after all, she said that was nearly true, but there was no need to mention about being on my own and the kettle and stuff…just keep it simple, she said. So that’s what he did. Despite that though, the doctors still looked strangely at him and sent mum out of the room when they asked him what had happened.

  Franklin never got up in the night again, there would be no point anyway because after that night Mum made sure his bedroom door was locked tight when he went to bed.

  CHAPTER 10 - TRACY

  Tracy looked down at her sun kissed legs and sighed, they’d been home from the Caribbean for just over two weeks and her tan was definitely starting to fade. She had toyed with the idea of fake tan but dismissed it…it was just too smelly.

  Tracy heaved another big sigh; she was definitely suffering from post holiday blues. The holiday and wedding had been such a whirlwind; Simon had surprised her at Helen and Maya’s wedding a couple of months earlier. Having been together for nearly five years and engaged for a few months, Tracy and Simon had both decided that getting married abroad was the way to go, neither of them wanting to compete with their friend’s sumptuous wedding. But Tracy had never expected to be whisked off to the beautiful island of Antigua and she had never dared hope that her mum, dad and sister would all be there…it was the stuff that dreams were made of.

  The only fly in the ointment for Tracy at least was that Simon’s mum had been in attendance also. Simon’s mum Joan obviously didn’t think that Tracy was good enough for her son, not that she would ever say such a thing, oh no not the sainted Joan. She just made little comments, always beginning with, ‘I know you won’t mind me saying dear…’ or ‘you won’t mind me giving you a little hint Tracy…’ it had driven Tracy mad especially when she started giving Tracy advice on how to look after her children, three year old Zack and baby Tilly. Tracy didn’t know how she had managed to keep her mouth shut, but she had obviously managed to hide her irritation extremely successfully because Simon hadn’t noticed a thing, even congratulating Tracy on how well she’d got on with his mum.

  ‘I am so relieved love I can tell you,’ he had said, ‘because believe it or not some of my previous girlfriends haven’t hit it off with her at all, I can’t think why, she is such a poppet.’

  Tracy just kept quiet and made up her mind to try really hard not to be irritated next time she saw her.

  Having caught up with her friends and had a trip into town already this week, Tracy had designated today as a housework day. Since getting back from holiday she had let things slide a bit and the house was looking a bit muddled to say the least. There was a backlog of washing piling up in front of the machine in the laundry room and just about every surface in the house had a thin layer of dust on it. She also wanted to tackle bathing Buster, her precious but rather stubborn West Highland terrier, at some point because, quite frankly, he smelt to high heaven.

  ‘It’s nothing personal darling…’ she had cooed at him holding him at a distance, ‘but you stink like a latrine…I think Auntie Maggie must have let you run amuck.’ Maggie had looked after Tracy’s beloved dog for her whilst they were away, and by all account Buster had had a whale of a time especially as Duncan’s Labrador Amber was staying with Maggie as well. Goodness knows what they had got up to but it had obviously involved them rolling round in something disgusting.

  Tracy had just finished loading the washer and, since Tilly had gone down for her nap, was in the process of dragging a very reluctant Buster into the bathroom, when the door bell rang.

  ‘Bugger!’ muttered Tracy as she looked round to see if there was anything she could tie the squirming Buster to while she answered the door…nothing…she let go of his collar and sighed as he made a bolt for the back door. ‘Bugger,’ she muttered again, she would never get him back in now…she went to get the door.

  Obviously Tracy had taken too long to answer the door because whoever it was seemed to have given up. She was just about to close it again, when she heard a voice from round the side of the house.

  ‘Hello…’ a man emerged from the bushes near the side window, ‘oh you are in…um I’m sorry to disturb you…um I’m your neighbour, I live in Duck Pond cottage? You know, just down the lane a bit?’ Tracy looked at him bewildered.

  ‘I’m Tim,’ he went on holding out his hand, ‘Tim Boulter…we moved in just before you did, but we haven’t been here much, my wife Louisa is a singer and she has to travel all over the world…so I go with her…’

  ‘Oh lovely to meet you at last,’ said Tracy shaking his hand. ‘We knew the cottage had been sold, my husband did call round not long after we moved in, but obviously you were away…um I’m Tracy by the way and my husband’s name is Simon…Simon Burton, which makes me Mrs Burton I suppose ha ha ha…silly me, we’ve only just got married you see, so I haven’t got used to my new name yet…’ Tracy was aware that she was babbling so she shut up.

  ‘Well, we’ll all have to meet up properly some time,’ said Tim smiling kindly at her. ‘The reason I’m on your doorstep today is I was wondering if you had any idea who owns the large house at the end of the lane? Their land backs onto ours you see and they’ve got a row of the most enormous leylandii trees which are so tall they are blocking any sun from our garden. I was going to ask them if they would trim them back a bit, but I haven’t been able to speak to them…no one’s ever at home…although there was one hell of a party going on there the other week, went on till about three in the morning…did you hear it?’

  ‘Um no sorry it must have been when we were away…’ Tracy said with a grimace, ‘and I’m afraid I can’t help you, I have no idea who owns it. I had actually always thought it was a derelict house; it’s such a long way from us, even though I know technically their land butts up to ours I can’t even really see it from ours, not unless I look out of the back bedroom window anyway. Sorry I can’t be more help…Nora might know, she’s my neighbour on the other side, she’s lived here for ages…might be better if I ask though, she’s not terribly good with strangers.’ Tracy said remembering her first encounter with Nora; she’d had an egg thrown at her. Luckily though that was all water under the bridge and Nora was now a dear friend, but she didn’t know how she’d react to Tim.

  ‘Why don’t I ask her and I’ll let you know,’ Tracy said with a smile.

  ‘Oh would you, that would be really kind,’ said Tim returning her smile with a dazzling one of his own that had Tracy all of a flutter, the man was seriously attractive in a very smooth, upper class sort of way. Immaculately dressed in neatly pressed chino’s and polo shirt with a cardigan casually slung around his shoulders, he oozed wealth and privilege from his brushed back dark blond hair and tanned face, to his Gucci loafers, and despite obviously being in his mid-fifties he looked trim and fit.

  Tracy realised she’d been smiling inanely for just a bit too long. ‘No problem at all Tim,’ she gushed, ‘I’ll pop round after lunch, she should be home by then…’ Tracy broke off at that moment aghast as Buster, suddenly realising that there was a stranger at the front door, came (disgusting smell and all) sprinting round as fast as his stumpy little legs could carry him and launched himself at a horrified Tim, rubbing himself up against the immaculate chinos and slobbering over the Gucci’s.

  ‘BUSTER…BUSTER YOU BAD BOY NO…Oh I’m so sorry,’ wailed Tracy mortified. ‘BUSTER LEAVE THE SHOES…BUSTER,’ Tracy managed to grab his collar and pull him off Tim, who was brushing himself down and trying not to breath in the noxious smell.

  ‘Oh please Tracy don’t worry,’ Tim said his face flushed with embarrassment, ‘there, there good doggy,’ he said to the now tethered Buster.

  ‘Oh your poor shoes, are you sure he hasn’t caused any damage…please le
t me know if he has…he doesn’t usually smell this bad, I think he must have been rolling in something…’

  ‘Tracy, stop worrying,’ said Tim holding up his hand, ‘it’s fine, he was just being friendly I’m sure…um anyway if you could ask your neighbour that would be great.’ And with that Tim made as quick an exit as he could without being rude.

  ‘Bloody hell buster!’ exclaimed Tracy when she had closed the door on her new neighbour, ‘you are the most embarrassing dog in the world.’ Buster hung his head and gave her a look of shame. ‘Oh no don’t think I’m going to be fooled by that look either, you are a bad bad dog…and what’s more you are going to get the bath to end all baths,’ she finished with relish as she dragged him into the bathroom and firmly shut the door.

  CHAPTER 11 - HELEN

  ‘If you are really that worried honey, tell that Brenda woman…you know, what’s her name from social services,’ Helen said, over her shoulder as she put the finishing touches to her latest canvas.

  ‘Brenda Massey,’ said Maya, who was sitting behind Helen watching her paint. ‘I did try and get her last week, but she is away, holiday I think. Anyway last time I speak to her, she just says I’m worrying too much, maybe she’s right…but something is telling me this is not right, I don’t know why. I mean the girl could have gone away to relative, but first Andy says it’s grandma, then the mother tells headmaster that it is auntie. And Andy is not right…he just sits you know…looking out of the window, never speaking unless I make him…keeping away from other kids…he is not right.’

  Helen put down her brushes and put an arm around Maya, ‘Love, I can see that this is really worrying you…so tell someone. Even if this Brenda has gone on holiday there must be someone else you can speak to…do you want me to have a word with Carla, get her to check it out? Nothing official of course, but maybe a visit to the home…see what the mother has to say?’

  ‘No, no I think that may be too much. You are right I will speak to social services again, someone else…is only two weeks after all…is possible she is at grandma’s all the time.’

  Maya phoned social services after school the next day and spoke to a Scott Wilson who was standing in for Brenda while she was away. He was very helpful, listened to what Maya had to say and said that he would look into the matter personally, which he did by visiting the Hunt residence the next day.

  He reported back to Maya that evening, ‘Well she’s a right one that mum isn’t she,’ he began, ‘had to go there three times before she finally answered the door…stank of booze and the place is an absolute tip, I don’t know how people can live like that I really don’t. Anyway I managed to get an address from her for this auntie…it was her sister not her mother, mother’s been dead for a while, so why Andy said she was at his granny’s is anybody’s guess. Lives in Chester, so I’ve got the services up there to check it out…won’t be today though, I’ll let you know when I hear from them ok?’

  And with that Maya had to be satisfied, she was still worried about the boy though. Looking at him reminded her of her youth in Poland, living in filth and poverty with an abusive father; she had been just the same reclusive child. Shying away from anyone in authority lest they asked too many questions, constantly getting into fights with other kids in the school who would take delight in picking on her and making her life even harder…Andy was just such a child…a victim, like she had been.

  Except that Maya was sure that something else had happened to the boy recently, something that had knocked the wind out of him completely. There was a new desperation in his eyes; he looked like someone with nothing left to live for, going through the motions, it tore at her heart strings and she was determined to help him somehow.

  CHAPTER 12 - CARLA

  With their torches sending out an eerie glow into the freezing fog before them, Carla and Frank both shivered as they walked slowly along the row of dilapidated garages.

  ‘Tell me again why I’m here at the crack of dawn in this filthy garage block, freezing my tits off, instead of being snuggled up in bed with my husband?’ said Carla accusingly to Frank.

  Frank just smirked, ‘You love it…don’t pretend you don’t. Anyway I said I would check it out…you didn’t need to come.’

  ‘Yeh you were just hoping that Julia from environmental health was going to volunteer to go with you, I heard you flirting with her on the phone when she called in.’

  ‘That was not flirting,’ Frank exclaimed, ‘that was just my usual professionalism…anyway I’m meeting her for a drink tomorrow.’

  ‘Bloody hell Frank I just can’t keep up with your love life…oh god,’ Carla broke off covering her nose. ‘She’s not wrong about the smell though… it’s definitely getting stronger…oh bloody hell that reeks…yep…I think it’s coming from this one. Looks like the lock’s been broken…’

  At an ungodly hour this morning Frank had taken a call from a worried environmental health officer, a Miss Julia Payne, who was reporting that several complaints had been made about an awful smell that seemed to be coming from one of the garages situated in a block behind some flats on the ‘Buttercup’ estate. She had checked out the smell herself but was reluctant to enter the garages without the police there with her, so Frank had volunteered to check it out and, intrigued, Carla had decided to tag along. She was beginning to wish she hadn’t now though as the familiar, almost sweet sickly smell of death pervaded her nostrils.

  The garage door was barely hanging from its hinges and whatever lock it had once had was now hanging down useless at the side of it. Frank covered his face against the smell, as he pushed the door to one side and shone his torch into the darkness.

  ‘Oh god it’s even worse inside…someone has obviously been using this place as a toilet…oh gross! Watch where you tread Carla there’s shit everywhere,’ Frank said dry heaving and coughing.

  ‘Open that door a bit wider if you can Frank, let’s try and get some air into this place,’ Carla was fighting against her own nausea, the stink was so intense that it was making her eyes water.

  Slowly, and carefully they started searching through the piles of old junk that filled the space. Their search was hampered slightly by just how much stuff had been rammed into the small space. Old washing machines were piled high with cardboard boxes holding all sorts of paraphernalia. There seemed to be piles of old magazines and newspapers some going back as far as the seventies and assorted pieces of old furniture that had seen better days, and mixed in with all of it was dirt…almost certainly human. The nearer to the back of the garage that they got the stronger the smell…but furniture was piled up so high there that it was almost impossible to get through.

  ‘I bet this ends up being some dog that’s got himself stuck and starved to death,’ said Frank, starting to dismantle the furniture pile to clear a path wide enough for them to squeeze through.

  ‘Well let’s hope so,’ whispered Carla, ‘this place is giving me the creeps and I can’t take much more of this stench, it is making me feel ill.’

  Carla wasn’t joking, she could feel her stomach protesting against the putrid smell, she swallowed hard against hot bile as it rose up in her throat.

  It was definitely worse here though, near to the back of the garage. Carla lifted a small table out of her way making a narrow path for her to squeeze through. She edged forward cautiously; it was so dark she could barely see anything outside the beam of her torch.

  Suddenly the hairs on the back of her neck stood on end and it seemed like the air was sucked out of her lungs as the light from her torch suddenly touched on something….something shoved right into the corner as far back as it could go… something that was shining up white in her torch light, against the dark that surrounded it.

  Carla swallowed hard, ‘Frank…over here…I think there’s something…oh god,’ she finished on a whisper.

  Frank clambered his way over near to where Carla stood; and shone his torch to where she was pointing…stuffed under an old desk right at the b
ack in a corner was a filthy old rug and protruding out from the bottom of the rug, white, almost luminous in the beam of Carla’s torch, was a tiny foot.

  ‘Shit,’ was all that Frank said, before getting on his radio and calling for assistances and forensics.

  She was such a tiny little thing…naked and curled up in a tight little ball. Not much more than a baby…just beginning life. Carla felt hot tears burning at the back of her eyes she blinked them away and focused on the job in hand. There was silence in the filthy old lock up…there had been ever since the rug had given up its dreadful contents, forensics got on with their job quietly and respectfully, everyone was affected by the tiny body of the girl in the rug.

  ‘She’s been here a couple of weeks at least,’ Dorothy said quietly coming over to where Carla stood, ‘there’s already quite a bit of maggot infestation which might make it hard to identify her.’

  ‘Well she’s a child, so someone must have noticed she’s missing, even in this shit hole,’ Frank muttered grimly, ‘any idea how she died?’

  Dorothy shook her head, ‘Well there’s a nasty injury to the side of her head, and there appears to be some sign of bruising around her neck, although it’s difficult to tell because of the extent of the deterioration…but that could point to strangulation,’ she paused and turned to Carla, ‘from first impressions and without moving her I would say that there has been some sort of anal penetration though, definite outward signs of tearing, not a lot of blood though, so could be post mortem…obviously I can’t be certain until I’ve done the PM…’

  ‘For fucks sake,’ said Frank in disgust, ‘she doesn’t look older than about three or four…fucks sake.’

  Carla just nodded grimly, and moved outside the lock up.

  Once outside she took a few deep breaths of cool air and tried to pull herself together. This was her first experience of child murder; she handled a few child abductions before but thankfully the children had all been found safe and, if not well, at least alive. Looking down at the remains of that little girl, it had taken all her strength not to break down and sob at the cruelty and depravity of it all.