I didn’t answer, even though I knew she was right.
‘And you can’t have any more children, can you?’
‘You can’t just adopt someone’s baby, Niamh. It doesn’t work like that. You have to be approved by Social Services, meet all sorts of requirements. There are no guarantees, even if Stuart and I wanted to adopt.’
‘You promised you’d be with me every step of the way,’ she sniffed.
She was right; I had. And I still felt guilty that I’d encouraged her to go to the party. ‘I know I did,’ I said at last.
‘Then please at least think about it.’
I held up my hands in surrender. ‘All right, I’ll think about it. But I’m not making any promises, OK?’
I’d planned to spend the morning going through some costings for our winter menu, but I couldn’t stop thinking about Niamh’s bombshell. Not just the fact that she was pregnant and was refusing to even consider a termination, but that she wanted Stuart and me to adopt her baby.
The thing was, she’d touched a nerve. Having been an only child myself, I’d wanted Nate to have a brother or sister, and Stuart had always talked about having a brood of kids. When my emergency hysterectomy wrecked our plans, we even discussed going down the adoption route. But life was busy, and we never got around to doing anything about it. And now Niamh was offering something we both wanted on a plate, no strings attached.
I owed it to her to at least broach the subject with Stuart, so after dinner I led him into the front room, sat him down on the sofa and topped up his wineglass.
‘There’s something we need to talk about,’ I said.
‘That sounds serious.’
‘Actually, it is.’ He was silent as I told him an edited version of events in Corfu. That Niamh had slept with a boy at the party and had now discovered she was pregnant. That getting rid of the baby went against her Catholic upbringing and she wanted to go ahead with the pregnancy.
‘Who’s the father?’ he asked after a long pause.
I scratched the back of my neck. ‘She doesn’t know. What I mean is, he was a boy she met at the party. They didn’t exchange details.’
‘Just bodily fluids.’
‘Stuart!’ I said, aghast. ‘Don’t be like that. It was her first time, and she’s devastated. We all did things we shouldn’t have when we were her age. Don’t judge her.’
‘You’re right. I’m sorry. So, what does she want from us? I suppose she’s asked you to break the news to her parents?’
‘She doesn’t want them to find out.’
Confusion clouded his face. ‘But how’s she going to…?’
‘She wants to have the baby here, in Canterbury, and she wants us to adopt it,’ I said in a rush.
‘Bloody hell.’
‘I know.’
‘What d’you think?’
‘I don’t know,’ I admitted. ‘One minute I think it’s a brilliant idea, the next I think it’s utter madness.’
‘But we did always want more than one.’
I nodded.
‘And Nate would be thrilled to have a baby brother or sister.’
‘He would,’ I agreed. ‘So, what d’you think?’
Stuart took a big gulp of his wine and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. ‘Let me sleep on it.’
Chapter Thirty-Two
WEDNESDAY 16 JUNE
The pewter-grey Range Rover pulled up outside the front of the warehouse. My mind was racing. What on earth was Bill doing here?
If Melanie had told him Niamh was sleeping rough in our old warehouse, it was conceivable he’d driven over to find her. But something about the scenario niggled me. And then I remembered. The suspicious vehicle the dog walker had seen parked outside the warehouse last night was a dark-coloured four-wheel drive or an SUV.
A dark grey Range Rover, perhaps.
And if it was, why was Bill here last night, when we only found out this morning that police had discovered Niamh’s belongings?
Before I could unpick my thoughts, a car door slammed. I watched from the window as Bill’s familiar, lanky frame stepped into the soft glow of the Range Rover’s sidelights. There was something about the sag of his shoulders, his mussed-up hair and the way his hands were shoved deep into the pockets of his jeans, that raised the hairs on the back of my neck.
As Bill slumped against the bonnet of the Range Rover, a second figure appeared from the shadows. A slight figure in leggings and a baggy hoody. The hood may have been up, obscuring her face, but I knew in my gut it was Niamh. She marched up to Bill and held out a hand. Bill shook his head and said something, his face puckered in a frown.
Niamh rose onto the balls of her feet and made sweeping gestures with her arms, plainly remonstrating with him. I edged closer to the window but couldn’t catch even a whisper of her words through the strengthened safety glass. All I could do was watch.
Bill took his hands out of his pockets and clenched his fists, and for one awful moment I thought he was going to lash out at her. But she stepped right up to him and jabbed his chest with her finger. He reached into his back pocket and pulled out a thick wad of notes. I held my breath as he thrust them at her, before turning on his heels and tramping back to the driver’s door. Niamh stepped neatly out of the way as the Range Rover jerked forwards then turned tail and sped off towards the main road, leaving the industrial estate in darkness.
My heart was crashing in my chest as I tried to make sense of what I’d seen. Bill had known Niamh was here. He’d driven here to see her, and he’d given her money. A lot of money, by the look of it. Because he felt sorry for her? Then the answer popped into my head. Niamh had kidnapped Immy and Bill was handing over the ransom money for her safe return. Is that what
