Hope to Die

AF: But you didn’t take him back to the hospital, did you? Or to a police station. Or to the adoption services, who would have found him a loving home.

AT: No, I didn’t.

AF: You took him to Edgbaston. To the Seidlers.

AT: I’d sat with them every day for weeks – I’d seen what they’d gone through. I knew they could give him a good life. That they might not get another chance -

AF: [softly]

You played God.

AT: If you want to put it that way.

TH: You must have known what you were doing was wrong.

AT: In your book, perhaps. Not in mine.

TH: Why didn’t you say something to the police after Camilla was arrested? You perjured yourself at that trial –

AT: I know. But remember how young the child was at that stage – barely five. He’d have been taken from them. My job wasn’t the only thing at stake.

AF: All the same –

AT: I would have done, OK? I would have said something. If she’d been acquitted, I’d have said something. But she wasn’t, was she? Justice was done. No one knew that better than me.

TH: And since then?

AT: What do you mean, since then?

TH: What have you done since then?

AT: [apparently at a loss]

I’m not sure I understand what you’re getting at.

TH: Have you stayed in touch with the Seidlers? Kept tabs on the case?

AT: Of course not – that would be far too dangerous, both for them and for me. And in any case, I’ve done everything I possibly can to forget the whole thing.

TH: [silence]

But that’s not strictly true, is it?

AT: I don’t know what you mean.

TH: I’ve been spending a lot of time in true-crime chat rooms lately, looking at what people say about this case. The theories they have, what they think really happened.

AT: So?

TH: So, I think you’ve been doing the same. There was one name that kept coming up – one person who’s been talking about this case on a regular basis ever since that Netflix documentary. Always taking the same line, always insisting that Camilla Rowan got what she deserved. The user’s name is ‘AllieCatz76’. It never occurred to me till now, but as soon as you make the connection it’s blindingly obvious. It’s you, isn’t it? AllieCatz – Alison Toms. And you were born in 1976.

AF: Is that true, Ms Toms?

AT: [silence]

TH: I can only imagine how horrified you were when John Penrose started suggesting Camilla could be innocent. No wonder you wanted to do what little you could to redress the balance. To make sure she stayed where she was.

AT: [silence]

AF: Alison Toms, I am arresting you on suspicion of child abduction. You do not have to say anything –

[Door opens and DC Sargent enters]

CS: I’m sorry to interrupt, sir, but we’ve had a call – I think it’s important –

AF: Really?

CS: Yes, I think so.

AF: [getting to his feet]

DC Hansen, could you continue, please.

TH: Ms Toms, you do not have to say anything, but it may harm your defence if you do not mention when questioned something which you later rely on in court. Anything you do say may be given in evidence.

[DI Fawley exits the room]

TH: Would you like to speak to a lawyer now, Ms Toms?

AT: Yes. I think that’s probably a good idea.

TH: Interview terminated at 11.26.

* * *

23rd December 1997, 5.25 p.m.

116 Ruskin Road, Edgbaston, Birmingham

‘Allie? What are you doing here?’

The porch lamp above his head throws long shadows down his face, making him look even more gaunt. He’s lost so much weight in the last few weeks.

She steps forward, into the light, and his face changes. Confusion, apprehension, disbelief –

‘What on earth –’

The baby is mewling now. He’s cold and hungry and needs changing, but she didn’t dare stop on the way to get him anything – she couldn’t run the risk.

She gathers the child, feels his weight, then steps forward. ‘Take him.’

‘But –’

‘Take him – please – before I change my mind.’

He reaches out and lifts the child gently into his arms. And the tenderness of that gesture, the unconditional acceptance, despite the shock and the filthy blanket and the smell of sick and urine, is enough. She no longer doubts what she has done.

She starts to back away down the path. ‘Don’t tell Renee. About me.’

He frowns. ‘But I have to say something –’

‘Just say you rescued him. And you have. Believe me. You’ve rescued him.’

* * *

Richard Swann watches the two policemen walk up the garden towards the house. They’ve been down there for what seems like hours. But it was only a matter of time, once they’d found the manhole; he knew the game was up. It was a miracle they didn’t find it the first time. The taller officer, the sergeant, is talking on his phone, and the younger one has a large evidence bag – a bag he’s holding as far away from himself as he possibly can. As they near the house the sergeant looks up and stares straight at Swann. Their eyes lock, just for a moment, then Swann bows his head and turns away.

* * *

Adam Fawley