Читать книгу Apple of My Eye: The gripping psychological thriller from the USA Today bestseller - Claire Allan, Claire Allan - Страница 22

Once I found my focus, it proved relatively easy to track them both down. That was the thing with living in that part of the world. Everyone knows everyone’s business and while that had been a curse to me as everything was falling apart, I could see that, as I put everything back together again, it was also a blessing.

It wasn’t hard to find out where they worked and, more importantly, where they lived. The leafy suburbs, of course. I should’ve known. They’d that look about them. Well-groomed, professional people. In a nice house, with loads of greenery nearby. Fields to run through. Streams to wade through. Trees to climb. I was sure they already had plans to build a tree house. I imagined they’d have a swing in that big garden. The perfect childhood awaited their perfect baby.

But money can’t buy love. There was nothing to say that just because they had a nice house in a nice area they’d be good parents. I watched them, you see. I saw how early he went to work. How he came back late.

She worked long hours, too. And they weren’t swamped with visitors. If I didn’t take this baby, who’d end up watching her? Would she just spend her days amusing herself on her state-of-the-art swing, with no one to push her? No one to feed her imagination. To have teddy bears’ picnics in the tree house with.

The house looked too well kept for finger-painting and messy play. Their routine too regimented. I saw it all. I saw her bring home takeaway dinners. Children need fresh, home-prepared food. It didn’t have to cost the earth. A lot of people make that mistake.

A child needs love and attention and to be nurtured and nourished. I had all the love in the world to give and so much more. Cruelty would’ve been leaving this baby with those people who’d never be home for her.