the doll

The call had been frantic, sobs and heavy breathing wracked the voice of the woman as she pleaded with the emergency dispatcher. 'It's my daughter' she cried 'we can't find her'.
The search of the neighbourhood was frantic. Neighbours joined officers in hi-vis jackets, huddled and planning before dispersing. The mother's face was streaked with tears and her eyes hollow, she had fallen silent after confirming with the responders where and for how long she had searched. They had boiled the kettle and explained their approach, before suggesting she wait at home, in case her little girl came back.
She sat on her doorstep with a three quarter full mug of now cold tea clasped in her hands. The sun had been set for hours before she moved; her husband took her in his arms and she leaned on him heavily as she walked into lining room. He took the mug from her hands, laid her down on the sofa and dragged a blanket over her. His lips grazed her forehead briefly before he mumbled words she didn't hear and leaving the room.

tick tock tick tock...
Hours passed under the denotation of the clock.
She must have fallen asleep at some point because she was woken by a soft knocking. 'Excuse me, Mrs Williams' two uniformed officers pushed the door open, accompanied by her husband.
'Honey' his soft voice was comforting and his hand brushed her hair from her face, 'they've found something'. It took moments for her to realise what was happening, but as soon as she did her eyes snapped open. Words tumbled over themselves in her mouth; not one able to escape. She sat, dumbly staring at the two dark figures who stood awkwardly in her home.
'Mrs Williams' they pressed on, 'we found something in the woods behind the cul-de-sac and wanted to know if it was your daughter's.' He pulled a doll from a bag that hung at his waist and handed it to her.
She took it, pushing the ashy blonde hair away from the face. There was a familiarity in that small porcelain face - the small innocent smile, the button nose and the glimmer in the big green eyes. She couldn't look away.
'No, no that's not hers' her father broke the silence, shaking his head apologetically. 'Honey, it isn't hers' he repeated as she made no move to give the doll back.
'It looks like her' finally she managed to speak, stroking the doll's face she told them 'it's her'.
A flicker of concern passed across Mr Williams' face but this was far from the strangest reaction the officers had seen. They indicated to him to speak outside before moving to the hall way.
'It's only a doll, and as it's not evidence there's no harm in her keeping it for now. She's in shock and needs rest'.
He thanked them for their time and their efforts, before pressing the point that while his wife seemed to be almost unable to move he couldn't stand to stay still. He moved to the kitchen, filling a glass of water and taking it to his wife before heading outside to join the search.

When he came home that evening he was deflated. He dropped his keys in the bowl on the table by the door, calling for his wife. He kicked off his shoes and tried to prepare mentally for the conversation he would have to have with his wife. He called out for her again and moved through the house looking for her.
He pushed open the living room door and there she was, asleep under the same blanket he had pulled over her so many hours ago, still in the same clothes with unbrushed hair. She clutched the doll in her hands. As he got closer to the sleeping figure, he had a passing thought that there were similarities between the doll and his girl. It was in the eyes - those lively green eyes - and the lips that looked like they might crack into a smile at any moment.
He stroked his wife's face and cooed, 'honey, come on honey, let me take you to bed'. She stirred, looking up at him and taking his hand from her cheek and kissing it lightly.
'You're back? And.... and there was nothing?' There was hope in her voice still and he broke it by shaking his head gently. She looked like she could cry if he had any tears left to do so. 'I'll make us some tea and we should go to bed' she suggested. The rest and the hot sweet tea would do them both good. She wasn't going to tuck her daughter into bed that night but she could take care of her husband.

She woke suddenly and coughed once. Looking at the clock she saw it was 3:03 and she could feel the dryness in her mouth. Her husband was snoring lightly next to her so she moved slowly and softly out of the room. Her bare feet slapped lightly on the wooden floors as she moved down through her quiet home towards the kitchen. She took a glass from the draining board and filled it, before draining it once. She splashed her face with the cold water from the tap and caught a glimpse of herself in the window... Then her focus shifted to see the open living room door behind her.
With a sudden twinge she remembered the doll. She had moved without thinking to pick her up. There was something about the way the light glimmered off the porcelain, it almost seemed like the face had moved. It struck her again just how like her daughter this doll was. Looking into the green glass eyes, she could have sworn someone was looking back... Someone she knew well.
Lifting the dress lightly to show the right thigh, where she recognised a long red scar. Her little girl had fallen off her bike early in the year; her leg had broken and she had needed surgery to set it. She had been so brave and shown her scar to anyone who would listen since then.
She was hesitant and her lips trembled 'J... Janey? My Janey?'
The doll seemed to smile wider at this and through the tears that fogged her vision she could see the sparkle dance in the doll's eyes. She sat heavily onto the sofa and held her Janey close as she wept.

In the morning she heard her husband stirring upstairs, moving to use the bathroom before heading downstairs.
'Oh, honey have you been up long? You let me sleep in' he said with concern in his voice, 'we need to head to the police station today. We need to see what news there's been'.
'News?'
'Yes honey, news about Janey.. they said we should call them once we had rested'
'Oh, but there won't be any news'
'What? Don't say that honey-' his voice trailed away as he really saw his wife. There was no hope in her eyes, her fingers stroked the hair of the blonde doll absentmindedly. She looked as though she hadn't slept much at all last night.
'I'll call them, you should take a shower, honey, and get some real rest. Come on' he led her back up the stairs towards their en suite. She still clutched the doll in her hands when he brought her a towel and he had to take it from her. He laid it on the bed, after catching a look in the emerald orbs he turned the doll onto her front and left the room to call the police station.
He was on hold for a few minutes before talking to a detective; he was unsurprised to hear they had found nothing but that didn't stop the wave of disappointment from crushing him. His chest was tight as the kind voice came through the line, urging them not to give up hope while gently reminding him that these cases were of course time sensitive.
50 hours had passed already since they had last seen their beautiful little girl. The toll on his wife was already clear and he had to stay strong for her. He choked back the tears he didn't want her to see after hanging up the phone.
Through what should have been silence he heard murmurs. He moved quietly to listen to what his wife was saying.. It was a soft cooing he knew well, it's how she spoke to their girl. His breath caught in his throat as he listened by their bedroom door.
'Daddy doesn't recognise you yet but he'll see soon my lamb'
He was sure to make some noise as he came into the doorway, hoping he masked the panic he felt in the pit of his stomach behind a brief smile.
'Honey, I'm going to the police station, you just stay here okay? And rest'
He pulled the covers off the bed and ushered her underneath before tucking her in. She kept the doll with her and, although it unnerved him, he would be able to ask for advice at the station. This can't have been the first time the mother of a lost child projected their feelings onto a surrogate.