Breaking Out

by Janice Nix

  ‘Sab? Sab – what’s the matter? Try to slow down and tell me.’

  Her breath came in gasps. She started to speak, but then there was another burst of crying. This was an emergency. I realised I would have to break my rule about not going to her house.

  ‘Just wait. Please just hold on. I’m coming over.’

  As I drove, I was seized with the awful sense of everything exploding out of my control. I pulled over and sat for a moment in the quiet of my car. I breathed deeply, pulling my inner resources together.

  Control your mind, and your mind controls your face.

  When she answered the door, I was shocked. Sabrina looked as though she’d been in some terrible accident. Her face was badly swollen, with one eyelid puffed and scarlet. She had a deep cut on her lip, and buttons missing from her shirt. I was enraged at the sight of her – but shouting wouldn’t help.

  ‘Okay – let’s get you cleaned up. Then we’ll talk.’

  She sat shaking on the edge of the bath while I bathed her cuts and bruises as gently as I could. Tears were streaming down her cheeks. I kept wiping them away, but every time I did, it started off a fresh burst of weeping.

  ‘Oh JanJan! Oh JanJan!’ she whimpered, over and over. I thought that she was suffering from shock.

  ‘Right – now we need some tea.’

  I led her to the kitchen. She sat down on a chair, and tried to hide her face in her hands. But she couldn’t – her gashes were too raw.

  ‘Who did this, Sabrina?’

  She drew another shuddery breath.

  ‘Was it Big Breed?’

  An awful moment’s silence, then she flopped back in her chair as though all her strength had drained away. She just said, ‘Yes.’

  I listened while she stammered out her story.

  ‘He’s a nice guy, Jan, you know – m-m-mostly. Honestly he – he is. He just gets into moods sometimes.’ She slowly shook her head.

  ‘It’s like everything is wrong. Everything I say. I keep on asking him what did I do, did I upset you – but –’ More tears rolled down her cheeks.

  ‘What happened today?’ I asked her very quietly.

  ‘Oh JanJan – it was crazy. He said that I’d been seeing someone else, and when I said I hadn’t, he said his friend had seen me and had told him, and I told him that’s shit – who would say that? And then he said that even if I hadn’t been seeing other guys, he knew I wanted to. And when I kept on telling him I hadn’t – he just lost it, Jan. He absolutely lost it.’

  I saw how hard she was shaking.

  ‘I was scared he’d kill me,’ she whispered.

  I thought of his soft, empty face. Big Breed was a weak little boy who thought that beating up a woman made him more of a man. Although my voice stayed calm, my anger was murderous.

  ‘Right. I’m glad you told me. Now we can work out what to do. Where is he now?’ I asked her.

  ‘He went home,’ she whispered, pointing towards the house next door. ‘But then I think he left. I heard the front door.’

  ‘You don’t know where he’s gone?’

  She gave a hopeless shrug. It was late afternoon. Nadia was staying at Emmanuel’s tonight. I didn’t know how long it would be till Big Breed came back – but I had time. I had all the time in the world to deal with a lowlife like him. I sat there, waiting like a loaded gun.

  It was after seven in the evening when I heard the sound of Big Breed’s front door. Sabrina had arranged for her daughters to go round to a friend’s house, then gone upstairs to rest.

  I stepped out of Sabrina’s house and rang the bell next door. Through the frosted glass, I saw a figure coming slowly down the passage. The door opened a very little way. Big Breed’s face peered out at me. I shoved past him and marched straight inside. He scampered behind me, stuttering. In his messy living room, I swung round to face him.

  ‘Uh – uh – you’re Ja-Ja-Janice – Sabrina’s friend, aren’t you?’

  ‘You know who I am. I’m Sabrina’s sister.’

  ‘So what’s going on?’

  ‘Don’t play games with me. I’ve not come here to play.’

  ‘I don’t know wha–’

  This man and his denials were pathetic. He filled me with scorn. I laid the flat of my hand against his chest and pushed him backwards until he was pressed against the wall.

  ‘You will not put hands on my sister! Understand me?’

  ‘I – I – Ja-Janice, what did she tell you?’

  ‘Tell me! She didn’t need to tell me! It’s plain to see what you’ve done.’

  He started to talk shit. How it all got out of hand. How he didn’t mean to do it. How Sabrina had provoked him. He didn’t know how it could have happened. As I listened to his babble, all I could see were her bruises and her blood.

  There was an untidy storage unit in the corner of the room. Its shelves were crowded with football trophies and piles of old papers. On a grubby, tarnished shield: ‘Lewisham Junior Boys Soccer Team, runners up 1977.’ The innocence of boyhood. Half-concealed behind it was a crack pipe. He ain’t so innocent now.

  ‘Breed?’ I demanded, ‘You’re a smoker?’

  ‘No, Janice, n-no – that belongs to – to –’

  He was obviously lying. Every moment, I grew angrier.

  ‘Are you telling me my sister is going with a crackhead?’

  He stuttered. ‘No, no! I’m telling you – it’s not mine – it’s – uh –’

  What was Sabrina thinking, taking up with this man? She understood that doing business safely meant keeping a clear head. I’d told her so myself. Surely she knew better than to ever trust a user.

  ‘So, then, since the pipe’s not yours, Breed, you won’t have anything else in the place?’

  ‘Uh – uh –’ he stammered. I was watching him carefully. I saw his eyes slide sideways in a quick, guilty look towards the stairs.

  I marched into his bedroom. The bed was rumpled and unmade. Alongside it was a row of empty bottles of booze and overflowing ashtrays. On the low table next to them was just what I’d expected to see. The rest of his gear.

  ‘I’ve seen enough,’ I told him. ‘I’ve nothing more to say. It’s finished – you and Sabrina. You won’t go near her no more.’

  I took a final glance around the grotty little room. And then I noticed something else. Something down on the floor, jammed tightly between the side table and the wall. A black attaché case. Slowly I bent and picked it up. I felt the smooth, expensive leather. Then I saw the letters ‘LV’ and ‘Made in France’ were inscribed on its heavy gold clasp. As I recognised the case, it seemed as though my heart stood still.

  I had to be sure. I pushed the clasp open, and lifted the lid. And there it was, that tiny little stain on the golden-brown lining – a mark shaped like a heart. Now I was certain. This was my case. The case that had been stolen, weeks ago, from Ida’s house in Streatham. How did it get here, in Big Breed’s filthy bedroom?

  I reached in my pocket for my phone.

  ‘Shoes? I need you all to come as quickly as you can.’

  ‘Sure. Where are you?’ I gave him the address.

  I wondered if Big Breed might try to make a run, but he didn’t. He knew my boys would find him wherever he went. He sat there on the sofa with his head in his hands, muttering to himself. The three of them were with me in ten minutes – Mikey Shoes, Sharp Man and Leggy. Their heavy feet came swiftly down the hall. When Big Breed saw them, he jumped up and backed nervously into the corner. No one touched him – not yet.

  ‘You having trouble, Mama J?’ said Mikey Shoes.

  ‘Shoes – I found the guy that dissed my programme.’

  ‘You’re lying!’ Shoes was astonished. ‘What d’you mean – you found the guy?’

  ‘He’s right here.’ I pointed to Big Breed.

  Big Breed’s eyes were bulging. I held the Louis Vuitton case in my hands.

  ‘So, Breed,’ I asked him, ‘where did you get this?’

  ‘I –
I –’ He could barely speak with fright.

  ‘Lost your voice?’

  ‘I – I can’t remember. Ha-had it months. Maybe I –’

  More useless, stupid lies. I cut him short.

  ‘Big Breed – this case belongs to me. And I would like to know where you got it.’

  He stared at me wild-eyed. I saw that he was struggling to grasp what I meant.

  ‘This is my property,’ I said to him. ‘And somebody stole it. Now it’s turned up here. I want to know how that happened.’

  ‘Yours?’

  I pointed to Shoes, Sharp Man and Leggy.

  ‘Big Breed – these guys ain’t ballerinas. They’ve come to do a job. You can tell me where you got the case, and how you came to find it. Or they can go to work.’

  He was sweating. He licked his dry lips. His eyes darted round the room.

  ‘Uh – uh – I went on a work!’

  ‘Where was the house?’

  ‘Streatham.’

  ‘Do you know whose house it was?’

  ‘No! Ju-just some d-d-dealer’s place.’

  ‘And when you got there – you knew just where to look. How did you know?’

  ‘I got a d-description of the house.’

  ‘A good description, was it? From someone who must have been inside?’

  ‘Yes! But Janice! I didn’t know the place was yours!’

  ‘I get that, Breed. I believe you. Now all I want to know is this: who gave you the address?’

  Twenty minutes later, I was driving the Cosworth through south London.

  Mikey Shoes was up alongside me. As we moved through the streets, I watched Big Breed in the rear-view mirror. He stunk of sweat. His eyes darted nervously from side to side. But he was surprisingly stubborn. He hadn’t told – so far. So we needed to find a quiet place to talk. Sharp Man and Leggy were one on either side of him, keeping him pinned down.

  I pulled off the road onto some waste ground. The place was deserted. The car came to a stop.

  ‘The address. Who gave it you?’ I asked.

  Big Breed was breathing quickly. He didn’t reply.

  ‘This is the last time I’m askin’. There’s no one around these parts to hear you. Who gave you the address?’

  When he spoke, his voice was shrill with panic.

  ‘I can’t tell you, man! I can’t say!’

  I drummed my fingers lightly on the steering wheel. I sighed and looked ahead.

  ‘If you don’t,’ I said to him, ‘I have no choice. I’ll leave you to the mandem. Who was it?’

  He still didn’t answer. I said to the boys behind: ‘Okay.’ Sharp Man grabbed him in a neck-hold and squeezed. It only took two seconds for the name to squeal right out. But when he said it, I couldn’t believe what I’d heard.

  ‘Who?’ I demanded.

  Big Breed screamed the name again, thrashing around, trying to relieve the pressure on his throat. I sat frozen to the spot.

  After a few seconds, I waved my hand. The boys let him go and his panting filled the car. I knew he was shit scared, so he wasn’t lying. But I still needed to be sure – really sure – I’d heard him right.

  ‘Why you bringing that name into this?’

  ‘Cos it was! That’s who set it up! That’s who told me the address!’

  ‘I don’t believe you.’

  ‘Said the house was some drug dealer’s belly.’ Now he was whimpering. ‘And where to look. But I didn’t know it was your place! Nobody never told me that!’

  When I first heard the name, a bolt of pain had run through me. It couldn’t be. I didn’t want to believe it. Now I just felt cold. I accepted what he had told me. My world had changed.

  ‘Alright,’ I say to the boys. ‘Get him out of my car.’

  Big Breed howled.

  He wouldn’t climb out on his own, so they dragged him. Then Sharp Man and Leggy pinned his arms back. Mikey Shoes got to work. I sat there and waited until he’d finished. The three of them returned to the Cosworth. Big Breed slumped on the ground in the fading evening light. I turned the key and drove away.

  Very late that night, I headed for home. Beneath the copper midnight sky, I was gripped with a loneliness so dark and deep it felt like terror. When Big Breed finally told me who’d arranged for my belly to be robbed, all I wanted was to cover my ears.

  Scully had been right. Someone jealous. Someone with a grudge but they won’t say it. But that someone wasn’t Scorcher. If only it could have been Scorcher. How much easier it would be to have that snake betray me than –

  I could still hear Big Breed screaming her name.

  ‘Sabrina!’

  Sabrina. I closed my eyes and lowered my head. The traffic lights changed. From behind me came the irritable blare of a horn.

  ‘Sabrina! She told me where to go! She said there was drug money!’

  My same-birthday-sister knew that I had cash. But she didn’t know how much – not until the day of the police raid. The day I gave her all my takings. I remembered her amazement in the car as she peeped into my bag.

  ‘But – is this what you make in one day?!’

  Now I imagined her arrival at Ida’s that panicky afternoon – their anxiety, their haste to put the money safely away. Ida was always very careful, but she knew Sabrina well. She trusted her. Sabrina would have a chance to see the hiding places – of course she would.

  She knew my story, my secrets, my heart. When did she turn against me? I searched for answers, for warnings. But I found only grief.

  My sister, my sister. I can’t believe that you would do this to me.

  But who could be trusted in this world built out of lies? I looked at the lights of south London, and I wept.

  11

  In the dock in Gucci

  2015

  THERE WAS A LOT of domestic violence in the women’s probation group.

  Physical abuse was very common. So was what has recently been named as coercive control – a kind of mental force which is exerted on a person by their partner to subjugate, humiliate and crush them. Women in the group lived with partners who beat and kicked and punched them, bullied them, raped them, used the threat of rape and threatened the same to their children. Too often they became involved with men in a lot of pain themselves: alcoholics, drug addicts, those who’d been hurt or abandoned as children and were raging at the mothers who had failed to keep them safe.

  Many of these abusers were triggered off by drinking. Others were more unpredictable than that – a word out of place or a minor disagreement was enough to cause an outburst of anger and violence. Some would go for weeks being pleasant and loving, then suddenly explode. Some would lose their tempers if their team lost at football, or a child broke an object in the house. All of them were men who didn’t know any other way to feel in control – except by force.

  At first, Naomi seemed quite different. She acted like the girl who had it all. She looked confident and smart. In her first few weeks’ attendance, there were members of the group who thought that she was my assistant – and she liked it that way. She had fashionable clothes and shoes and handbags. They were gifts, she told us, from her wealthy and generous boyfriend. She was keen to describe how he would often take her shopping. He wanted to make sure that she looked nice for all the parties and dinners they attended with his friends. When we asked his name, Naomi talked a lot but never really answered. She just said he was important, a businessman, someone who knew influential people – so she had to be discreet at all times.

  He certainly had money. His car arrived one day to pick her up at the end of the group – an S-Class Merc with a private number plate. I watched him standing smoking as he waited. Naomi went rushing out so that she wouldn’t keep him hanging around. She apologised the moment she saw him, even though she hadn’t come out late. He gave her a very slight nod. She jumped nervously into the front seat, taking another little glance in his direction. That was when I knew that he was trouble.

  Naomi was on probation
for drunk and disorderly behaviour. But she was deeply in denial about her drinking, and wouldn’t share much with the others. The only time she would talk more openly was in a one-to-one session. But even there, she tried to present herself as fully in control. I remembered Sabrina. Her smiles, the way she always wore nice clothes and did her hair. How she blocked out what was wrong and hid her bruises with make-up. The danger signs had been there, but so small, so very easy to miss. So I kept my eyes wide open, and my attention sharpened.

  When Naomi talked about her boyfriend, it was clear she saw the whole world through his eyes. She wore the clothes he liked, did her make-up and her hair the way he liked, ate only food that he liked. They only did what he wanted to do.

  He liked to go to swingers’ parties, so she had to go. She didn’t want to join in – but he liked watching her. She didn’t want to sleep with his friends, but he got a kick from passing her around. He was degrading her, but she gave him permission to do it.

  ‘He says it makes a special bond between us,’ she told us proudly. ‘He’s asked other girls to do it, but they wouldn’t.’

  ‘Why wouldn’t they?’

  ‘He says they’re too conventional.’

  ‘And what do you get out of it?’

  ‘He says it makes us closer.’

  ‘What do you say?’

  Naomi dropped her eyes. She hesitated.

  ‘Look,’ I said, ‘if both of you enjoyed these kinds of games, that would be fine. But I don’t think you like it at all.’

  But if she didn’t please him, he punished her by cutting off all communication. Not talking, not phoning her, not texting. These silences drove Naomi into an absolute panic. The thought of him not being in her life made her terrified. It was an awful kind of mental control.

  ‘How does it make you feel,’ I asked her quietly, ‘when you do things for him that you don’t really want to do?’

  She shook her head in confusion. She couldn’t tell me what she felt, or what she liked, or what she wanted. She really didn’t know. Next moment, she gave me a bright and cheerful smile. It was the smile that went with her best life – the one she always told me she was living – and she mentioned some present that he’d bought her.