Back The Hiding Place
Chapters (46)
  1. Cover
  2. Title Page
  3. Dedication
  4. 1
  5. 2
  6. 3
  7. 4
  8. 5
  9. 6
  10. 7
  11. 8
  12. 9
  13. 10
  14. 11
  15. 12
  16. 13
  17. 14
  18. 15
  19. 16
  20. 17
  21. 18
  22. 19
  23. 20
  24. 21
  25. 22
  26. 23
  27. 24
  28. 25
  29. 26
  30. 27
  31. 28
  32. 29
  33. 30
  34. 31
  35. 32
  36. 33
  37. 34
  38. 35
  39. 36
  40. 37
  41. EPILOGUE
  42. Acknowledgements
  43. Read More
  44. Praise
  45. About the Author
  46. Also by Jenny Quintana

She opens it. Inside is a sheaf of papers and a bundle of photos. Several of the photos are of Marina in the hospital, lying in a crib or in Sofía’s arms. She has a mass of dark hair and is wrapped in the shawl with her eyes screwed shut. Marina examines the corners and the edges, each smudge and spot and grain, and it occurs to her that at the time of this photo, the shawl would have held her mother’s scent. Picking up the shawl now, she lifts it to her face. If only Ruth hadn’t corrupted the smell with her sprigs of dried lavender. If only she and David hadn’t taken her to Wiltshire. What if her mother had intended to return, like a vixen to its cubs or a wild cat to its kittens?

She clenches her jaw. They had no right to take her so far away. Who told them that they could?

Breathing slowly, she shakes her head. It’s not fair to blame Ruth and David, the two people who love her more than anyone else. Her mother could have walked into any police station and presented herself at any time. And the scent of the shawl would have faded anyway.

She turns to the clippings Sofía has saved. Most of them she’s already seen – in Ruth’s collection – but there’s one she doesn’t recognise, from a local paper. Along with a picture of the house, there’s a headshot of the first policeman on the scene. He describes interviewing the tenant who, along with the landlord, discovered the baby. The tenant is named as Eileen Clarke, and the landlord Kenneth Quip. Another photo shows the two of them. Kenneth is thin-faced and dressed in a light shirt open at the collar. He gives the impression of having been caught off guard, with one hand raised to his face. Eileen is an attractive black woman, who looks directly at the camera. ‘I heard crying,’ the paper quotes her as saying. ‘And when I opened my door, I found her in the hall, tucked away in the corner and bundled in the shawl. I couldn’t believe a baby had been left there. It was very upsetting.’ She goes on to say how the front door had been left wide open and how someone must have taken the chance to bring the baby in.