Page 85 of Seven Days

She didn’t care.

‘Seb!’ she shouted. ‘Seb! Are you there? Seb!’

The only answer was silence.

She wrapped her arms around herself, her eyes wide in horror. The man had taken him. He had taken her son.

And he would not be bringing him back. She would beg, of course she would, but it would make no difference. She knew that already.

Seb was gone, and she would never see him again. The boy she had given birth to, cradled and fed, kissed, read to, played with. The boy for whom she had dreamed of a future out of here, a future with friends and love and family. The boy she had loved, in a way she had never known was possible.

That boy was gone. It was as though someone had ripped away a part of her, the best and most important part, and left behind half a person, a shell, a worthless, pointless husk.

How could she live without him? How would it be possible?

She didn’t know, and she didn’t want to know. She didn’t want to live, not without her son.

But the man would make her. He would force her to carry on.

She let out a low, keening moan and lay on her side, her knees hugged to her chest. This was worse than she had ever imagined possible, and it was never going to end.

Eight Years Earlier: Wednesday, 18 August 2010

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It’s fine, Sandra had said. You go. Colin can bring me home. I don’t mind at all.

It was her umpteenth chemo session. Martin had a meeting with a difficult client and he could not be sure he would be able to get away in time to bring her home. If she was honest, she would have liked him there, but they couldn’t put their whole lives on hold because of her treatment.

And Colin Best had made it clear he would help whenever he could, which was why he was sitting by her hospital bed, reading a book. It wasn’t the first time he’d helped out, either. He’d brought meals early on, fetched library books for her, come for a cup of tea when she was on her own.

The book was The Collector by John Fowles. It was a bit of an inappropriate choice, given what might have happened to Maggie, but she couldn’t take offence at that. People could read what they wanted; it probably never crossed his mind that she might link it to her daughter. As with the treatment, life went on.

‘Good book?’ she said.

He nodded. ‘I read it years ago. Made a real impression on me.’ He turned the book over and looked at the cover. ‘I found this in a second-hand book shop and thought I’d read it again.’ He closed it and placed it on the table.

‘I think I might go and get some tea. Would you like anything?’

‘No thanks. No appetite.’

‘Of course. I’ll be back soon.’

By the time he returned she was ready to leave. She steadied herself against him while they walked down the corridor. At the exit, he paused.

‘You wait here. I’ll fetch the car.’

‘That’s fine. I can walk.’ She looked up at the sky; it was blue and cloudless. It was always a relief to leave the hospital. It felt like a return to normal life.

‘No, no,’ he said. ‘It’ll only take a minute or two.’

She waited by the door until he pulled up. He opened the door for her.

‘It’s very kind of you to help,’ she said. ‘What do I owe you for the parking?’

‘Nothing,’ he said. ‘I won’t accept a penny. I already have the most precious thing you can give.’ He put his hand on hers. His grip was surprisingly firm. ‘Your friendship and trust. Now, let’s get you home.’

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