After Jeanie had finished taking Tracy’s statement she packed it away in her bag and took out some things she’d brought especially for Jackson’s interview. She laid out paper and crayons onto Tracy’s kitchen table. She placed a bag on the table.
Jackson was watching the children’s programmes on television in the lounge.
‘Do you think Jackson saw what happened?’ asked Tracy. She sighed; suddenly she looked exhausted.
‘I don’t know; but the quicker we question him about the event the more chance we have of getting all the small details. I’d like to make a start now if that’s okay? I would like to establish who was in the flat at the time his mum left. Can you start with drawing me a rough plan of Danielle’s flat? It’s mainly for me to use.’
‘I’ll try.’
‘The main thing is that you put in the things you think Jackson will remember in his flat – anything distinctive that you think he’ll relate to, like where the telly is, what colour his front door is, that kind of thing.’
Tracy nodded. She sat at the table and sketched an outline of the flat, then handed it to Jeanie.
‘It’s pretty good. You have a good memory for detail.’ Jeanie smiled. ‘Okay, you ready?’
Tracy nodded. ‘I’ll get Jackson.’ She went into the lounge to fetch him.
‘Sit on Nanny’s lap, Jackson,’ Tracy said as she led him to the table and helped him climb up.
‘Jackson. Shall we do some drawing?’
He looked interested when he saw the crayons.
‘Jackson?’ Jeanie got his attention. ‘Shall we draw your house? Tell me about your house.’
Jackson began drawing a front door and a window next to it.
‘What colour is your front door, Jackson? Choose a crayon that colour.’
‘Pink.’ Jackson was colouring, concentrating with his tongue sticking out. He coloured inside the lines of the door he’d drawn.
‘How many bedrooms are there, Jackson?’
‘Mummy’s room and Jackson’s.’
‘How many is that?’
He held up a thumb and finger. ‘Two.’
‘What’s Jackson’s room like? Can you draw it?’ Jeanie gave him a new piece of paper.
Jackson chose a blue and a yellow crayon. ‘Fireman Sam bed.’ He scribbled slashes of blue and yellow.
‘Anything else?’ Jeanie was writing notes. He slowly shook his head. ‘What about Mummy’s room?’
‘Photos of Jackson and Mummy in the park.’
‘Are there? Did you have a nice time?’
Jackson nodded. ‘We give bread to the ducks.’
Jeanie looked around the room. Jackson did the same. ‘Whose house is this, Jackson?’
He answered: ‘Nanny’s house.’
‘Yes that’s right, this is where Nanny lives, isn’t it? Can you draw Nanny for me?’ She gave him a fresh piece of paper.
Jackson drew a round head and inside he drew eyes.
‘What a clever boy. What about Nanny’s hair, Jackson?’ He chose a yellow crayon and scribbled a yellow streak on the top of the circle. Jeanie smiled at him. ‘I can see Nanny’s arms and legs and she’s got eyes. Lovely blonde hair. Can you draw Mummy and Jackson?’ Jackson drew a small face with legs and the tallest figure with long dark hair. ‘Is that Mummy?’ He nodded.
‘When you saw Mummy last, what was she doing, Jackson?’
Jackson’s eyes moved around as he thought hard. He began moving his head from side to side.
‘Was Mummy happy? Did she have a happy face, Jackson?’ He continued shaking his head.
‘Mummy said Leave me alone.’
‘Was Mummy cross?’ He nodded. Where were you standing then, Jackson?’ Jeanie had the plan that Tracy had drawn in her hands. ‘Were you in the kitchen?’ He shook his head. ‘Were you standing next to anything, Jackson?’
‘My buggy fell bang on the floor.’
Tracy had drawn the buggy resting against the wall in the hallway.
‘Were you standing next to your buggy when it fell over?’
He nodded.
‘Did Mummy say anything to you, Jackson?’
He looked at Tracy as he answered. ‘Mummy said go back in your bedroom.’
‘Was there anyone else in Jackson’s house?’ He nodded again.
‘Jackson, how many other people were in the flat with you and Mummy and Scruffy?’
Jeanie pulled out some puppets from the bag. The first one was a woman. ‘Was there someone like this? A lady there in the flat?’ He thought hard and shook his head. ‘A man?’ asked Jeanie as she pulled a male puppet from the bag. Jackson nodded his head. He was concentrating hard. ‘Show me how you can count, Jackson. Where are your fingers?’ Tracy smiled encouragement. Jackson lifted both his hands in the air. ‘How many fingers have you got on your hand, Jackson?’
Tracy touched each finger as he counted them. ‘One, two, three, four, five.’
‘Good boy. Very good.’
Jeanie took out two more male puppets. ‘Was there more than one man, Jackson? How many men were there in the flat, Jackson?’ He held up one finger in the air.
‘Where is Mummy now, do you know?’ He shook his head; his eyes focused ahead, his face confused and sad. ‘When you last saw Mummy, where was she standing Jackson?’
He didn’t reply. His face was clouded with thought.
‘Was there someone else there with Mummy?’
He nodded. ‘Mummy said don’t hurt my son. Mummy said you bastard. Poor Mummy…’ Jackson looked at his hands; he turned the palms over and shook his head. ‘Poor Mummy hurt her hand. Get out. Get out.’ Jackson looked up and shouted across the room towards the lounge door. ‘Bastard!’
Jeanie reached out and soothed him.
‘Can you draw that other person for me, Jackson?’
Jackson picked up a brown crayon and begun to draw a head but he stopped and picked up a red crayon and began to scribble.
‘Mummy loves Jackson.’ Jackson tore the paper as he held the crayon in his fist and scoured the paper. ‘Leave Mummy alone. Get out. Get out.’
Jeanie reached inside a bag she’d brought with her and pulled out another doll. ‘Does this look like Nanny?’ He nodded. ‘Hello, Nanny.’ Jeanie talked to the puppet and set it down on the table.
‘Who is this one do you think, Jackson?’ Jeanie handed a dog puppet to Jackson. He held it in both hands and wiped his nose on it.
‘Doggy.’
‘Yes. Do you think this doggy is like Scruffy?’
‘Yes. Scruffy.’
‘And who is this then?’ Jeanie held up a little boy doll with short blond hair. Jackson shook his head.
‘This is Jackson.’ Jeanie galloped along with a toy in each hand. She pretended to have the dog jump all over the little boy and lick him furiously. Jackson laughed and said:
‘No, Scruffy. Don’t even think about it.’
Jeanie smiled at him.
‘Is that what Mummy says to Scruffy? “Don’t even think about it?”’ Jackson nodded. Jackson picked up the dog toy and galloped across the table with it in the same way Jeanie had.
‘Clever boy. That’s right. Now, Jackson…’ Jeanie pulled out another doll from the bag and she held it up. ‘Who do you think this is?’
He looked at the blue-eyed doll with its brown hair: ‘Mummy.’
‘So this is Jackson and Mummy and Scruffy.’ Jeanie held the three puppets and placed them on the table in front of Jackson.
Jeanie pulled out two different puppets. One was black, one was white.
‘Which one of these looks like the man with Mummy, Jackson?’ He took a good look at the puppets and touched the white one.
‘What colour hair has this man got?’ She took out a bald puppet, one with black, one with brown and one with blond hair and held them out one by one and then laid them in a row on the table. Jackson picked up the brown-haired puppet. Then he picked up the puppet representing himself and held it up to show it to Tracy.
‘Yes, that’s Jackson, isn’t it?’ He was losing concentration; Jeanie knew the session was coming to a close.
‘Shall we find the one of Nanny?’ Jeanie looked back inside the bag and pulled out the Nanny puppet again.
‘There, Jackson, this one is Nanny, isn’t it?’
Jeanie packed away the puppets.
‘All right, Jackson. I think that’s enough for today. He’s getting tired. We’ll do some more tomorrow.’ Jeanie started packing the crayons away; she left them in a tub on the corner of the table. ‘It’s a good start though.’ Tracy didn’t say anything. She was in shock. ‘Tracy, let’s get Jackson some tea and the bath and bed. Tracy?’
Tracy nodded.
‘Yes.’ Jackson looked up at her. He looked as if he were about to cry.
‘Jackson needs a cuddle, Tracy.’
‘Of course. Come here, Jackson. Nanny loves you such a lot. Shall we see what Scruffy’s doing?’ She led him into the kitchen. Jeanie gathered up the drawings and numbered them. She finished up her notes and closed her pad.
Tracy gave Jackson his tea and bathed him and left Jeanie reading a book about Spot the Dog to him whilst she went into the kitchen to tidy.
‘It’s late, Jackson.’ Tracy heard Jeanie’s words as she stood in the kitchen staring out at the dark. She was wondering what she’d say to Steve. Jeanie checked her watch; she’d promised Peter she’d be back an hour ago. She had lost all track of the time. It was gone eight o’clock. She had promised to make it home in time to read to her own daughter Christa. She would have missed bathtime now. She’d have missed playing with Christa. She must try and get back to put her to bed. ‘Spot is getting very tired. I think it’s time for Spot and Jackson to go to bed.’ Jackson watched Jeanie’s face for a few seconds before he nodded and jumped down off the sofa. Jeanie looked up at Tracy as she came in from the kitchen. Tracy nodded.
‘Come with Nanny and I’ll tuck you in.’
Tracy took his hand. ‘Say goodnight to Jeanie.’ Jeanie bent down for him to give her a kiss.
Jackson went across to Scruffy and hugged his neck. He kissed him and wiped his face in Scruffy’s fur. ‘Night night.’ Jackson was looking for something. He went to the table where he’d sat with Jeanie and the puppets and he climbed up on the chair and leant his weight across the table.
‘Careful Jackson.’ Tracy rushed towards him.
Jeanie held up her hand for her to take her time. Jackson looked back from Tracy to the table and he found what he was looking for, he kissed the Mummy puppet. Then he got down from the chair and came towards Tracy.
‘Night. See you in the morning.’ She looked up at Tracy as she came back out of the bedroom having settled Jackson down.
‘I’m going home now, Tracy.’ Tracy nodded and smiled. She sympathized with Jeanie – she could see she wanted to be going – but she needed to clarify something first:
‘What Jackson said about there only being one man in the flat when Danielle left, could that be his dad?’
‘I think he would have said so if it was,’ Jeanie answered.
‘But I know it’s been a long time since he saw him.’
Jeanie shook her head. ‘Nothing is certain, Tracy.’ She smiled kindly. ‘We’re bringing in Niall Manson and we’ll start from there. You must be shattered.’
‘Yes, I am.’
‘Please get some sleep and let’s hope it all gets resolved in the morning. I’ve left my number on the kitchen worktop. You call me if you need anything and I’ll bring more things for Jackson tomorrow.’
Tracy watched through the lounge window and saw Jeanie’s car tail-lights disappear down the road.
Jeanie tried Carter’s phone but it was busy. She rang Robbo.
‘The child has Down’s syndrome, right?’ asked Robbo.
‘Yes, but I think we have a bright child, despite that. He is perfectly able to count, to recognize colours. He draws to a good ability for his years.’
‘Have you been able to interview him?’
‘I’ve made a start. I think we can be sure that someone took her out of that flat in full view of her little boy. From what Jackson has said, I feel that she must have known her abductor. She must have known enough to trust that if he said he wouldn’t harm Jackson then he wouldn’t. She felt secure enough to think the best option was to go. Seems like there was just one man in the flat with him and his mother. I have a description of sorts: white, brown hair. I’ll keep chipping away.’
Tracy went to lie in bed next to Jackson and listened to his breathing.
She had given him a penguin toy she had got from the women working on the nail bar. It was being given away free with a Christmas manicure. She lay there listening to him and felt such a deep panic that she couldn’t have closed her eyes if she wanted. Only the sound of his rhythmical breathing calmed her.
She went over what Jeanie had said and what had happened with the puppets and drawings. If it was Niall Manson who was in that flat then Tracy felt sure things would be sorted out and he wouldn’t harm the mother of his child. Fingers crossed, Danielle would come back tomorrow. Jackson’s face was turned towards her. With Jeanie’s help she’d pushed her bed up against the wall to make sure he couldn’t fall out and she’d put a rubber sheet beneath his side of the bed. She’d found it in the spare-room cupboard, kept from when Steve’s niece and nephew used to come and stay when they were young.
Tracy watched Jackson as he slept, his eyelids pink and paper-thin. He was dreaming. She dreaded what he might say when he woke up. What questions would he ask her? He’d never said a whole sentence to her yet. She had no idea what he was capable of. All she could think was that something awful must have happened to Danielle for her to leave her little boy.
She didn’t remember falling asleep but she awoke when she heard people outside on the street warming their car engines ready to go to work. She heard a whine coming from the kitchen. She got up, agitated; she’d forgotten all about Scruffy, who she’d bedded down on an old duvet on the kitchen floor and now he was whining for something. She thought about calling Steve – he’d be getting ready for work now – but decided against it. She would get everything organized so that when he came home later he wouldn’t notice a thing out of place. If she told him the truth about what was happening she would have one more problem to deal with. She’d tell him when and if she had to. After all, Danielle might appear at any moment.
She pulled on her dressing gown over her pyjamas and opened the bedroom door, leaving it slightly ajar as she padded softly out into the kitchen. As she opened the kitchen door Scruffy went ballistic with happiness.
Tracy unlocked the back door to their patio garden, which had half a dozen tubs, a gazebo and a barbecue. The patio furniture was all covered up for the winter outside. There was no lawn, just pots, mostly emptied now till spring when they would be planted up with geraniums. But some of her pots had herbs in all year. She had brushed the snow from them. The purple sage was still usable, the rosemary a great asset to her culinary skills.
Scruffy went bounding outside and cocked his leg against the herbs.
‘Oh God,’ Tracy moaned.
She watched him nose around the rest of the garden until he was satisfied that he was master of the territory and then he leapt up onto the shrubs in a small bed at the end of the garden and crapped.
She let Scruffy back in and then crept back into the bedroom. Jackson was still asleep but he looked like he’d moved slightly. He was frowning, cross. He was fighting something in his sleep.
She tried hard not to feel despondent when she walked out of the bedroom and back into the lounge and saw Scruffy on the couch.
‘Down. Get down,’ she hissed. Scruffy didn’t move. Tracy marched over and pushed him off the sofa. She heard her phone ring from the kitchen. A sense of relief came over her. It would be Danielle. She would be phoning to tell Tracy she was all right, she was coming home. She walked towards the phone with a calm breathy smile on her face. Stay calm. If I’m calm then so will everyone else be. She answered it before she realized it was a withheld number. She heard the delay between her answering the phone and someone speaking and knew what that meant. Oh God! Even on a day like today, even with every trouble in the world heaped on her shoulders, they were going to ring her about double-glazing or accident compensation.
‘Tracy Collins?’
Tracy was instantly annoyed. They didn’t usually get her name right. They usually called her Mrs Smith or Mrs Jones. They just picked any common name and pretended they weren’t cold-calling She listened hard. The line wasn’t good. Now she was doubly irritated: not only was it an unwanted call but she could hardly make out what the person was saying, it was so quiet and muffled.
‘Yes. Who’s calling? What’s it about?’
The voice, so dark and low, rolled out the words: ‘It’s about your daughter.’