The Forgotten Child

D. E. WHITE started writing fifteen years ago, scribbling ideas on napkins at work on the night shift. After various jobs, including working as cabin crew, in a hospital, a supermarket, and as a 999 call handler for the ambulance service, she began writing full time in 2018.

She is a multi-award-winning entrepreneur, and was part of a small business delegation speaking at Number 10, Downing Street in 2015.

Having spent a lot of time travelling the world, she now lives with her husband and two sons on the south coast of the UK, with a growing assortment of animals and several stick insects.

Visit D. E. White at daisywhiteauthor.co.uk

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‘Chillingly atmospheric’

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‘An excellent, compelling read that had me gripped and reading long into the night when I should have already turned the light out’

Also by D. E. White

Remember Me

The Forgotten Child

D. E. WHITE

HQ

An imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd.

1 London Bridge Street

London SE1 9GF

First published in Great Britain by HQ in 2019

Copyright © D. E. White 2019

D. E. White asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.

A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.

This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.

All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins.

E-book Edition © September 2019 ISBN: 9780008318802

Version: 2019-08-27

Table of Contents

Cover

About the Author

Readers Love D. E. White

Also by D. E. White

Title Page

Copyright

Dedication

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Chapter 34

Chapter 35

Chapter 36

Chapter 37

Chapter 38

Chapter 39

Chapter 40

Epilogue

Acknowledgements

Extract

Dear Reader …

Keep Reading …

About the Publisher

For my single mum friends – you are awesome!

Chapter 1

‘Milo, can you turn your game down, just for a bit please?’

‘Can’t hear you, Mum. What?’

Holly took a deep breath, swallowing the tears, trying not to glance at the text message on her phone. She, of all people, should have known better, but the words seemed to burn into her brain, ‘Milo, please turn it down.’ Better, that sounded calmer, she thought, and he was still so engrossed he would hopefully miss the fact she was upset. His life had been torn apart enough recently.

In the mirror she could see his little face, his mop of blonde hair, freckles dusting his nose, and the smear of mud across his forehead. The electronic bleeping toned down a notch and she took another long, shaky breath. He glanced up quickly, and grinned at her reflection, before returning to his dragons.

The traffic was horrendous, and at five o’clock on a filthy wet February night, the darkness had already closed in. In an effort to distract herself Holly moved her phone further into her bag, so she couldn’t see the screen, and turned the radio on. Beyoncé filled the car with ‘If I were a Boy’, and she almost smiled, trying to relax the coils of tension that seemed to be wound like snakes around her torso, squeezing her stomach painfully. It was a favourite song, and Holly determinedly sang along under her breath. She had this under control.

The car in front braked again, and the long line of red lights strung out into the night like a strand of Christmas decorations. The pain of last Christmas would stay with her forever. Even now she could still hear her own voice, telling him exactly what she thought of men who played away … For months she had ignored that nagging feeling that something wasn’t quite right, the fact that he kept jumping on his phone, shouting at her for silly little things around the house.

Finally she had actually answered his mobile when Beth called. He had been in the shower, thinking she was downstairs getting Milo’s tea, and had left his phone on the pillow. The other girl had put the phone down as soon as Holly identified herself, but she took the opportunity to scroll through his pictures. It was enough.

Tom had been outraged when she chucked him out of the house, telling her she was crazy and deluded, even suggesting she needed help. Fucking bastard. She would need to fight Tom to have Milo stay with her. So be it, he was the shit who had been unfaithful, although his family later implied if Holly had been a better wife, he wouldn’t have needed to sleep with someone else. Fuck them all.

The next turning was normally a longer way home, and the roads were narrow, winding through steep woodland towards the coastal town, but anything was better than this motorway hell. She indicated, and neatly extracted herself from the queues. Holly was a good driver, a safe driver, but tonight she was exhausted. Work had been tough recently. It always was, but in the winter months, getting out of bed at 4 a.m. for an early shift, or returning home at 7 a.m. after a night shift, took dedication. It also took epic childcare organisation when you were a single mum.

Leaving the other cars behind she swung left at the roundabout, avoiding a daredevil motorcyclist, who was taking the bend at high speed, and turned down Mill Road. A couple of other cars and a van were on the roundabout, and maybe a couple more queued behind her. The usual evening traffic. Mill Road would take her all the way to Panfield, and from there to Westbourne and home.

Holly’s shoulders sagged a little as she relaxed, watching her headlights slash a path through the darkness. It was going to be all right. She glanced in the mirror again, but this time took in her pale, exhausted reflection. Her green eyes were edged with shadows and her long black hair hung heavy around her face.

‘Mum, I’m hungry!’

‘Look in the blue bag. There was a bar, and some crisps, if you haven’t eaten them already … We’re nearly home.’

‘I ate them,’ Milo informed her. ‘I shared them with Becky. Can we stop at McDonald’s?’

‘No. We aren’t going that way. Look, sweetie, can you just cope until we get home? There’s a stew I put in before we left. It’s your favourite,’ she said encouragingly. There was another car taking the bend behind her, its headlights in her mirror making her blink. She didn’t really like driving in the dark anymore. Maybe she was getting old.

‘Did you put my hoodie in the boot?’

‘Yes. It was all muddy. Why?’

‘I left some sweets in the pocket. Coach said we were so good he gave us all some Haribo, and I forgot to eat mine. Can I climb over and get them out?’

‘No. Sorry, darling, but can you just last out?’

‘No. I’m starving. I scored four tries today.’

‘I know, and I’m super proud of you …’ The car behind was far too close, right on her tail. She accelerated a bit, but the road glistened wet and dangerous, and she knew there were a few hairpin bends coming up. Her jumper clung to her back, her T-shirt wet with sweat now, the sour, icy sweat of fear. She muttered, cursing the driver.

‘What arsehole needs to get back, Mum?’

‘Sorry, bad word. The person behind us is a bit close, that’s all.’

‘I’m still hungry.’

Hidden in her bag, Holly’s phone beeped with another text. Her hands were shaking again, clenched on the wheel, panic rising in her chest. Why couldn’t he just fucking leave her alone? He had what he wanted … But he didn’t have everything he wanted.

The other car was so close now, its lights were almost blinding her. She moved her rear-view mirror to one side, taking the reflection away from her eyes. Was the driver flashing his lights?

No other traffic, the rain was hammering down now, and the shadowy forms of tree trunks like cage bars on the high banks either side of the road. It wasn’t like she was going exceptionally slowly … Forcing herself to stay calm, she navigated the two sharp bends, before she noticed movement in the back. Milo’s legs were waving in the air as he nosedived into the boot, clearly in search of food.

‘Milo! Get back to the seat and strap yourself in,’ she yelled.

‘I’m just getting …’

‘No! Sit down.’

She risked another glance. He was climbing back now, bag of sweets firmly clasped in one hand. She should pull over … But the other driver was still so close. She even thought he was flashing his lights again – once, twice. Did he want her to pull over? Was there something wrong with the car, or was this just a ploy to get her to stop? On this lonely road in the darkness, there was no fucking way she was stopping unless she had to. Maybe she should call the police. A wave of fear ripped through her body, made her gasp, but again she forced herself to calm down. She was just tired, stressed out. It was only some fuckwit who wanted to get home quicker. There was no way of overtaking in this tiny lane. He could just wait. It was bound to be a man …

Milo landed back in his seat with a thump. ‘My seatbelt’s all twisted.’

‘Well, untwist it.’ She shot out from the tree cover and accelerated along a straighter bit of road. There was a long drop on one side now, which eased the claustrophobic feeling, but the car behind stayed on her tail. The lights seemed to flash again, making her blink. They were going around corners at speed, and the headlights of both vehicles were slashing through the shadows, bouncing off the blackness. She slowed a fraction to take in another hairpin bend. At any moment he was going to touch her bumper. But she didn’t have her hands-free kit with her, and she wasn’t going to stop and get carjacked or worse.

Carefully now, considering the options, she reached over and eased her phone out of her bag, placing it between her knees. What if this was more than some idiot trying to race home? What if the driver behind succumbed to some kind of road rage and actually tried to bump her car?

Holly risked another quick glance at Milo and slowed. To her relief, the other car drew back a little, but she kept the phone where it was. As she wondered if she was actually freaked enough to call the police, it beeped again and the screen flashed up another message:

You aren’t fit to be a mother, bitch.

The abusive tone was exactly the same. Why would he send her something like that? Holly shivered, swinging round the next corner, wincing as the driver behind kept pace, his headlights almost blinding her. Her windscreen wipers whined as she turned them up to max, trying to clear the torrent of rain. Desperate now, her shaking fingers were fumbling with her phone, trying to press the buttons.

Lights blinded her in an eerie white flash as another vehicle approached at high speed, from the opposite direction. She thought it was a van, and the driver was making no effort to pull over to his side of the road, but continued to aim straight at Holly. She hit her horn, hard, driving as close to the side of the road as she dared. The wheels crunched on grit and she felt the pull of mud on the tyres, as they swung off course. She yanked the wheel, her phone tumbling into the footwell as she straightened the car. Missing her by a hairsbreadth the other vehicle stormed past, away and up the hill, red brake lights flashing before it vanished. Holly slowed again, shaking.

The car behind hit her with a bang. The force of impact jolted her violently forward, before flinging her back against the headrest.

‘Milo? Are you okay?’ They were still moving, slowly but she didn’t dare stop. Her neck was twanging with pain.

‘Mum, what’s happened? Did we crash? Mum!’ His voice was sharp with fear.

Holly’s heart was racing, her breath coming in short, sharp gasps, and her head was pounding. What the fuck was going on tonight? She glanced back at her son, opened her mouth to say everything was fine, and at the same time tried to kick her mobile away from the accelerator pedal where it had fallen.

Milo screamed out a warning, high-pitched and terrified, ‘Mum, stop! There’s a deer!’

A dark shadow plunged across the road, its eyes briefly illuminated by her headlights, before Holly hit the brakes as hard as she could. The car swung from side to side, before it aquaplaned across the road, and for the second time, she felt the impact of the car behind. She was yelling for Milo, hands locked on the wheel, still fighting with the vehicle, as they slid off the road, and the car began to tumble down the long slope to the woods below.

It was a kaleidoscope of pain and blurred shadows. She screamed at Milo to get down, and ducked her own head, closing her eyes. There was a sharp pain, and then a bang in front of her, and after that nothing but darkness.

***

Holly opened her eyes. The steady drum of rain on the windscreen, the stench of wet earth and trees, the stillness and the cold, took a moment to sink in. She had no idea how long she had been unconscious. Her face was sticky and wet. She licked her lips, blinking. Blood. She could taste blood, sour and metallic. The rain was pouring through the shattered windscreen. Oh dear God, she had crashed the car. She had been trying to get her phone … Guilt mingled sourly with the pain, and Holly retched. The blackness spun, sending her back into her nightmare. Milo, where was Milo?

The nausea woke her properly, and she wriggled, aware of sharp stabbing pains in her neck, her back, and her chest, but ignoring them. ‘Milo!’

There was no sound from the back of the car, and she couldn’t turn any further. Panic flooded her body, hot and vicious. It gave her the strength to wrench herself free from the space between her seat and the detonated airbag. She was half kneeling now, one leg on the passenger seat, pushing away a mess of sports bags and camping gear that had been thrown from the boot. Tears and rain were washing the blood from her face, and she was shaking with the shock and cold.

The car was battered, but at least the right way up. At some point she remembered it rolling over, surely … But apart from the bonnet and windscreen, it seemed fairly intact. Some freak of engineering meant the headlights were still on, their twin beams sending dancing white paths of light into the woods. But the darkness and the shadows gathered all around the light, overwhelming it, jostling and claustrophobic.

Both windows on the right-hand side, Milo’s side, were smashed. His seatbelt was hanging free. She could see his hand, still and pale, stretched out across the seat, but she still couldn’t get far enough to see more. Her hands were shaking, but she continued to rip away the debris. As she struggled, one foot caught the driver’s door, hard, and it opened with a bang. Abandoning any thought of wriggling through the narrow space between the seats, she squeezed frantically past the airbag, out into the woods.

The rear door was stuck fast and she hauled at it with all her strength. It wouldn’t budge. Holly screamed, and the rain-savaged woods echoed with her son’s name. She kicked viciously and uselessly at the metal like an animal caught in a trap. The smell of rotten wetness, tainted with fuel fumes brought her back. She needed to keep it together. Christ knew where her phone was. The pain in her leg and chest was excruciating, but she carried on yanking the door. Inch by inch, resisting her sweaty, bloody fingers, it finally opened, slowly and with a protesting whine of metal. There were the stabbing pains in her neck and back again, but she ignored them, panting through the pain.

‘Milo!’ She was in the car now, scrabbling for his hand. ‘Milo, are you okay? Can you hear me?’ Of course he couldn’t or he would have answered, but the sound of her own voice was a small comfort in this nightmare.

Holly wriggled further across the back seats, clinging to the headrests, fumbling in the shadows. There was a torch in the towrope bag in the boot but who knew where that had ended up. Milo was half sitting, half lying on his side. There was a cut on his head, and a small stream of blood was snail-trailing down his cheek onto the seat. His small chest was rising and falling in a reassuring manner, but his skin was cold under her frantic fingertips. Where was her bloody phone?

But as Holly shoved her way further in, moving another bag out the way, she saw Milo was no longer alone in the back. Another boy, also apparently unconscious, but with no visible injuries, was sitting in the other seat. His head was lolled sideways, his face a pale blur against the shattered window.

‘What the fuck?’ Holly realised she had spoken aloud again, her words thrown into the sullen, spattering rain, echoing up to the silent trees. A ghost, it had to be a ghost, this child who had materialised inside her car. Either that or she was actually unconscious and dreaming the whole thing.

She reached a shaking hand across the car and touched the other boy. As her fingers met his cheek she had to force herself not to recoil. His skin was cold and clammy, and she thought she could see a head wound, but, as with her own child, she could see the steady rise and fall of his chest. Holly let out a long breath and inched back towards Milo, squeezing his limp hand, reassuring herself. A high-pitched whimpering made her jump, until she realised it was herself making animal sounds of fear. Where the fuck had he come from?

Squinting towards the road, she could just about make out the path of destruction the car had made as it left the road and hurtled into its final resting place against this cluster of giant trunks. There was no sign of the other vehicle that had rear-ended them, and no clue as to how her other passenger had arrived in her vehicle.

Realising she was wasting time staring blankly at the two children, Holly yanked herself back to reality and started yelling for help. Her cries echoed through the trees, seemingly futile in the vastness of the wood. Perhaps she should try to climb back up to the road, flag down the next car. But she seriously doubted she could make it, with the injuries that shot pain along her limbs and stabbed inside her head. Anyway, she couldn’t leave the children. Not one, but two children … She shouted again.

What if the other driver had meant to run her off the road? He could have stopped his car further along, and could be climbing down to … To what? She squinted into the shadows, icy fingers caressing her spine. Had he already been down and left another child in her car? There didn’t seem to be any other explanation, because she had sure as hell only had one passenger when she left the road.

A sound made her gasp, and it took a moment for Holly to realise it was her phone ringing. She blinked round, puzzled, finally locating the illuminated screen a few feet away half buried in the leafy forest floor. Relief flooded her body and tears coursed down her cheeks, stinging her cut face. Holly wiped them away and took a deep breath, glancing back quickly at the boys.

She staggered towards her phone, checked as an electric flash of pain reminded her she was injured, and went down on her knees to crawl instead. Every movement made her wince now, as the adrenalin wore off, and by the time her trembling hand touched the plastic casing of her phone, tears were streaking her cheeks again. The missed call was from an unknown number, and they hadn’t left a voicemail. It seemed to take ages to tap out the three digits she wanted, and all the time she stayed half sitting, half lying against a wet tree trunk, her eyes on the two children who sat so still and pale in the back seat of her car.

Finally, as she was starting to worry about the lack of phone signal, she got through to the operator, and waited again, patiently, answering the necessary questions as best she could.

In a surprisingly short time blue lights and sirens pierced the blackness. The rain was clearing, or at least she was sheltered, so deep in the woods. Holly was back at the car. With difficulty, gasping in pain at every movement, she had dragged an old picnic blanket out of the chaos, and tucked it carefully around the boys.

Checking their breathing, she wiped away the blood from Milo’s head with a folded T-shirt from his bag, careful not to move either child. The jelly sweets were strewn carelessly across the seat, and Holly bit her lip at the sight of them. Please, God, let Milo be okay …

The rear passenger seats were reasonably dry, roof still intact, but the front of the car was trashed. She couldn’t stop herself from gently touching the other boy’s cheek again, almost to reassure herself that he was actually real. This time she smoothed his hair back as she had Milo’s, and a rush of emotion hit. This poor child had been abandoned in her car. He wasn’t a ghost or a dream, but a real boy who someone had dumped in a crashed car. Perhaps whoever did it had thought she was dead, had hoped they would all die …

His hair was dark brown, and now she was closer she could see it was indeed streaked with blood from his head injury. There was something about the shape of his face that prodded her memory. Had she seen him before? He was about Milo’s age, perhaps a little older. At school, perhaps?

Shouts from the road cut into her thoughts, and soon a reassuring number of people were climbing carefully down to her car. She shouted back, in answer to their quick questions, and waited as they manoeuvred carefully through the undergrowth.