Chapters (55)
- Cover
- ANNA WHARTON
- Dedication page
- ONE
- TWO
- THREE
- FOUR
- FIVE
- SIX
- SEVEN
- EIGHT
- NINE
- TEN
- ELEVEN
- TWELVE
- THIRTEEN
- FOURTEEN
- FIFTEEN
- SIXTEEN
- SEVENTEEN
- EIGHTEEN
- NINETEEN
- TWENTY
- TWENTY-ONE
- TWENTY-TWO
- TWENTY-THREE
- TWENTY-FOUR
- TWENTY-FIVE
- TWENTY-SIX
- TWENTY-SEVEN
- TWENTY-EIGHT
- TWENTY-NINE
- THIRTY
- THIRTY-ONE
- THIRTY-TWO
- THIRTY-THREE
- THIRTY-FOUR
- THIRTY-FIVE
- THIRTY-SIX
- THIRTY-SEVEN
- THIRTY-EIGHT
- THIRTY-NINE
- FORTY
- FORTY-ONE
- FORTY-TWO
- FORTY-THREE
- FORTY-FOUR
- FORTY-FIVE
- FORTY-SIX
- FORTY-SEVEN
- FORTY-EIGHT
- FORTY-NINE
- ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
- Praise
- THE IMPOSTER
Chloe leaves the room for the kitchen a few doors down. She doesn’t have the energy today to go over the same story she has told a dozen times or more before: the day they went to Sheringham, the seagulls that swooped down and pinched chips right out of their hands. She’d been careful every time to patiently colour in as much detail as she could think of. It’s frustrating always having to start at day zero. She boils the kettle and pours water over two teabags. Some days she wishes Stella was still there, to back her up, to persuade Nan too. But it would be different then, it wouldn’t be just the two of them. Nan would have to share the love, and although there are days when Chloe misses a mother’s touch, at least she has Nan all to herself.
She heads back a few moments later with two cups of hot tea.
‘There you go, Nan.’
She smiles at her – that flicker of recognition; Chloe captures and pockets it. That’ll have to do today. She takes a sip.
‘I’m waiting for my daughter Stella to come home from school,’ Nan says. ‘It’s nice to have a cuppa – a bit of a breather – before they’re home, isn’t it?’ She laughs.
Chloe nods, drinking from her cup. She tastes the resentment in her mouth. Stella never erased from Nan’s mind, and yet Chloe instantly forgotten while she makes a cup of tea.
‘How old is your daughter?’ she asks.
‘Six,’ Nan says, ‘little terror. Good job I’ve only got the one.’
Chloe nods again. She’s not tempted to explain any more, she’s happy to leave Nan back in 1956. Because if Stella is six, then Chloe doesn’t even exist.
TEN
7 November 1979
PETERBOROUGH ADVERTISER
MOTHER’S PLEA: ‘GIVE BACK OUR ANGIE’
THE mother of missing city girl Angela Rose Kyle has made an emotional plea for her daughter to be returned and told for the first time of the last few hours she spent with her.
Four-year-old Angela – or Angie, as her parents call her – disappeared from a play park in Ferry Meadows a week ago.
Her devastated mother, Maureen Kyle, made the appeal through this newspaper for her safe return: ‘I’m begging, if there’s anyone out there who has our little girl, please, please give her back. We just want her home where she belongs.’
Mrs Kyle, supported by her husband, Patrick, spoke to this newspaper from the family home at 48 Chestnut Avenue.