The Doctor

The rest of the day disappeared in keeping Robbie amused, housework and then preparing dinner. Ben was late home, tired, and had to catch an early train in the morning. They watched the news, although there was nothing more about the animals in Coleshaw Woods and Emily didn’t mention it again.

The following morning she kissed Ben goodbye and saw him off at the door in her dressing gown, grateful that she didn’t have to leave for work on a cold frosty morning. It was only when Robbie had his lunchtime nap that Emily was able to use the phone again uninterrupted. She called the number she’d been given by the officer the day before and this time it didn’t go through to answerphone but call waiting. She was third in the queue. Her initial enthusiasm for trying to find out if Tibs could be among the animals in Coleshaw Woods was waning and she wondered if she was wasting police time – phoning about a missing cat when they would have many other more important crimes to solve. When it was finally her turn, she began with an apology. ‘I’m sorry, this is probably nothing, but my cat is missing. I saw the news report about the animals found in Coleshaw Woods and was given this number to phone.’

‘Yes, your name please,’ the officer said with resignation.

‘Emily King.’

‘And your address and telephone number? We’re keeping details of all those who’ve phoned in.’

‘So others have contacted you with missing pets?’

‘Yes, hundreds,’ he sighed. ‘From all over the country.’

She gave him her contact details.

‘And a description of your cat please, although I should say we won’t be able to match owners to their pets.’

‘So they are definitely pets?’ Emily asked.

‘It seems likely.’

‘They haven’t come from a lab?’

‘No. Would you like to leave a description of your cat?’ he asked, a little impatiently.

‘Yes. Sorry. She was four years old, a brown tabby, spayed. She used to wear a collar with my mobile phone number on, but that was returned to me.’

‘So why do you think your cat might be among those in Coleshaw Woods?’

‘She’s vanished without trace. Were any of the cats microchipped? Tibs was.’

‘We believe some were, yes.’

Her heart missed a beat. ‘Have you contacted the owners?’

‘No. The microchips were cut out from the animals.’

‘What?’ she gasped. ‘Cut out? Why?’

‘Presumably to stop identification.’

‘Oh my God. That’s horrible.’ She thought she was going to be sick. ‘So I’ll never know if Tibs was one of them?’

‘It’s unlikely.’

She took a deep breath. ‘How long had they been dead?’

‘Varying lengths of time, but some quite recent. I’ve noted your details and someone will be in touch if we have any news. But, as I said, it’s unlikely we will be able to match the animals to their owners.’

‘Has anyone else had their pet’s collar returned to them?’ Emily asked.

‘Not as far as I know.’

‘So perhaps Tibs isn’t among them.’

‘I’m sorry, ma’am, it’s impossible for me to say.’ And with a polite goodbye he ended the call.

Emily told herself that Tibs wasn’t one of the cats dumped in Coleshaw Woods, for the alternative – that she had died as part of a sadistic ritual and her microchip had been cut out – was too awful to contemplate. No, Tibs was dead, probably run over when her collar had become detached, as Ben had said.

That night, she put Tibs’ food bowl and bed in a bag in the garage where they stored items they no longer needed but couldn’t bear to get rid of.

Chapter Fourteen (#ulink_43c62941-da6a-51b8-a710-946b8bdaaa12)

Generally, Emily was enjoying her extended maternity leave, she thought, although it was essential to get out of the house with Robbie each day, otherwise he grew fractious and she developed cabin fever. Even now winter was setting in, she wrapped him up warm and they went out. The fresh air, exercise and change of scenery did them both good. Sometimes she met up with friends, other times, if the weather was fine, she took Robbie to the local playground, where he chuckled loudly as she pushed him in the baby swings and enjoyed playing on the apparatus for very young children.

Christmas was only three weeks away and Emily was also visiting the shops in the high street more to buy gifts. She was looking forward to Christmas but with a little trepidation as this would be the first time she was hosting Christmas dinner for both sets of parents. She wanted it to be perfect: the table laid with the festive linen tablecloth she’d bought, silver pine place mats, matching table centrepiece, turkey with all the trimmings. It was a huge operation and she had numerous lists of what to buy and when. She and Ben were also throwing a drinks party for their friends the Saturday before Christmas – homemade canapés, sweet mince pies and mulled wine. It would be their best Christmas ever!

Returning from the high street with yet more shopping, the pushchair was loaded with bags. They’d been to the park first and Robbie was exhausted and reasonably happy to sit in his pushchair rather than wanting to walk, which took forever. Emily turned into their road and glanced at the houses they passed. Like theirs, most of the houses in the street were decorated ready for Christmas, many with a Christmas tree in their front room window, festooned with baubles and fairy lights. Some had really gone to town – even over the top – with model reindeer, Santas on sleighs and illuminated snow scenes in their front gardens. Sometimes, less was more, Emily thought as she continued looking at the houses.

It had come as no surprise that the Burmans’ house wasn’t showing any signs of the festive season. It was possible they didn’t celebrate Christmas, Emily acknowledged, although it seemed more likely they just didn’t want to. She doubted Dr Burman had any Christmas spirit in him – definitely a bah-humbug type of person. Dour and sour. And, of course, Alisha, being ill, couldn’t make the effort by herself. Emily hadn’t seen Alisha since her fifteen-minute visit and had only caught glimpses of the doctor going in and out of his house and shed. She thought Alisha might have been a very different person without him, but then again she was ill and he seemed to take care of her, so she shouldn’t really criticize.

As she passed their house, she automatically glanced over as she had the others in the street. But the glimpse between the trees and high evergreen shrubs showed the same gloomy front with blacked-out windows. It was a sad-looking house, even more so now many of their neighbours’ houses were gaily decorated. The sadness inside seemed to seep out, bleed through the walls, Emily thought and hurried by. She was pleased to turn into their drive with its warmth of fairly lights draped under the eaves and sparkling through the glass panel of their front door. She switched the lights on when she got up in the morning and they stayed on until she and Ben went to bed. Having gone to all the trouble of putting them up, she wanted to make the most of them. Their house looked welcoming and, with a frisson of excitement, she took her keys from her coat pocket and unlocked the front door. Closer to Christmas – so they would still be fresh on the big day – she was going to buy a Christmas planter with seasonal flowers and set it just to the right of the front door. The finishing touch.

Her key in the lock, she suddenly stopped, senses alert. She thought she’d heard a child cry from next door – from the Burmans’ house? She must have been mistaken. They didn’t have any children, nor had she ever seen any visitors. Perhaps it was the television or radio, although she’d never heard any noise come from their house before. The windows were always closed, even in summer, and they never used their garden. She pushed open her front door and was about to go in but stopped.

There it was again. It sounded like an older child, not a baby, a girl, and it had definitely come from the Burmans’ house. It didn’t sound like a radio or television. Could they have visitors? It would be a first, as far as she was aware. But why was the child crying? Was she upset? It was a distressing cry, no words spoken, a shriek, animal-like and intense. It made her blood run cold. What should she do?

Emily stood still for a moment, torn between ignoring the crying child and continuing indoors, or going next door and asking if everything was all right. Dr Burman wasn’t home, his car wasn’t on the drive where he kept it, and there were no other cars there suggesting visitors. She knew what Ben would have said – mind your own business and go indoors. Her head agreed with him, while her heart told her something wasn’t right. A child in distress in a house where there were no children and the woman was unwell. Since she’d had a child of her own, Emily was more sensitive to the cries of children, especially if they were upset. It was as if something had been switched on when her milk had come in – a primeval need to protect children which was too strong to ignore.

Closing her front door, she dropped her keys into her coat pocket and wheeled the pushchair to their boundary fence. Robbie, wanting to be home, protested. ‘We won’t be long, little man,’ she said, her voice tight.

From her side of the fence, she looked down the Burmans’ sideway and up at their house – to where the cries seemed to have come from. It was quiet now, but a small fan-like window on the upper floor was slightly open, which was unusual. Emily didn’t know which room the window was in as all the houses in the street were different. As she looked, the cry came again, followed by Alisha’s voice, high-pitched and distressed, ‘Oh my God! I’m trying to help you!’

Emily stayed where she was, her unease building. What was going on? Who was Alisha talking to and why was the child upset? Surely, she wasn’t a guest? It had gone quiet again now and it crossed her mind to call up – ‘Is everything all right?’ – but the child screamed and the decision was made.

Quickly turning the pushchair round, Emily hurried back down her drive then up the Burmans’, trying to convince herself there was a rational explanation for what she’d heard. But what rational explanation there could be escaped her. Better to look a fool than ignore a tragedy, she told herself. If she’d known the Burmans better, she could have made a more informed decision. Now she acted on instinct. She pressed the bell on their entry system as the camera focused on the porch watched her. Robbie struggled to get out. ‘We won’t be long,’ she reassured him again.

She waited. Perhaps no one would answer. Then what would she do? Return home and try to forget it? Impossible. Things heard cannot be unheard, and she knew she’d worry about this until she found out that Alisha and the child were all right. Perhaps she should call the police? And say what? That she’d heard a child crying next door, but the woman who lived there didn’t have a child and was ill? Wouldn’t they suggest she might have a visitor? Perhaps she should go home, but the desperation she’d heard in Alisha’s voice told her to stay.

The door suddenly opened and Alisha stood before her, distraught. ‘Thank goodness. I need your help. Come in.’

‘Is something wrong?’ Emily asked.

‘Yes. Come quickly. You must help me, but never tell anyone what you see.’

Emily stopped, fear gripping her. ‘Why not? What’s going on?’

‘Come quickly. You’ll see. This way.’