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someone's got our daughter! We've got to do something,
quickly!'
    He lets me pick up the phone. `Who are you ringing?' he asks.
    `The police. And then Vivienne. She'll believe me, even if you don't.'
    `Ring the police if you insist, but not Mum, please.'
    `Because you know she'll back me up. That's why, isn't it?'
    `Alice, if it isn't Florence, who is it? Babies don't just drop out of the
sky, you know. I was only asleep for ten minutes ... '
    `That's long enough.'
    `There are tests we can do, DNA tests, to prove it's Florence. We can
sort it all out before Mum gets back. Look, she's my mother, not yours.
It's up to me whether we ring her or not, and we're not ringing her.' David
is babbling desperately. He cannot bear the thought of being observed in
a situation of personal difficulty. I think he regards any sort of unhappiness as a shameful and absolutely private matter. For Vivienne to see him
like this, tangled up in this awful mess, would be his worst nightmare.
    `Well, I haven't got a mother, have I?' My voice cracks. 'Vivienne's
the closest I've got and I'm damn well phoning her. Police, please,' I say
into the telephone. `I should never have agreed to move in here. This
house is jinxed!' I snap. `If we lived somewhere else, this would never
have happened.'

    `That's rubbish!' David looks as if I've slapped him across the face.
I have insulted his beloved family home. `You can't expect me to
leave my son.'
    `Of course I don't! We'd take Felix with us.' This is the most direct
exchange David and I have ever had on the matter of where we ought to live.
    `Yes, great, we'll just take him away from Mum, who's been like a
mother to him since Laura died! I can't believe you'd even suggest it!'
    `Police, please. I need to report an ... I've just been on hold!'
    `This whole thing will blow over. It will blow over,' David mumbles
to himself. He sits down on the stairs and puts his head in his hands.
Despite his efforts at self-control, his misery and shock overtake him.
He has never cried in front of me before. He must be wondering if he
could be wrong, no matter how sure he feels. I realise he will not forgive me for having witnessed this display of emotion.
    `Go and comfort the baby. David, listen to me. Please. The baby's
scared.' The helpless, baffled cry pierces my heart. It is all I can do to
remain upright.
    Poor, poor Florence. I cannot bear to think about how badly she
might be suffering. All I want is to be able to hug her close to me, feel
her soft, squashy cheek against mine.
    A moan rises from David's throat. `What are you saying? Listen to
yourself-"the baby". She's our daughter, our Florence. How can
you do this? Put the phone down! You go and comfort her.' He is furious with me, but also angry with himself for believing so wholeheartedly in his second chance, his new life with me and Florence. He
must feel shamed now, taunted by the elation that he has felt in the past
two weeks. It makes me sad to think that I understand his pain better
than he will ever understand mine.
    `Help me, help me, need to report a ... sorry, sorry.' A woman's
voice is telling me to calm down. I am crying so hard that she cannot
tell what I am saying. `I need to report an abduction.' I have to repeat
this twice. The misery of three people echoes around the house. `My
baby daughter, Florence. Yes. My name is Alice Fancourt.'

     

4

    Friday, October 3, 2003, 12.10 PM
    `RUN THAT ONE by me again,' said Charlie. `You're suggesting that
David Fancourt killed Laura Cryer?'
    `It's remedial fucking logic! Anyone with a brain would say the
same, now that Alice and the kid have disappeared. And there's something about him. I thought so as soon as I met him.' Simon tried to put
the reason for his mistrust into words. `There's no real person behind
his eyes. I looked at him and all I saw was a blank. Remember that
Billy Idol song, `Eyes Without a Face'?'
    `Call me slow,' said Charlie, knowing Simon would never