Next of Kin

by TL Dyer

  Hemophobia is usually brought on by trauma. Additionally, Jake is very young to be experiencing unexplained phobias, which might suggest the theory is correct. Has Jake suffered a childhood trauma you haven’t told me about, Sacha? Or failing that, over-protective parents also make for particularly anxious children. Might that be the case, do you think?

  Hands shaking with a combination of anger and fear, I stare at his messages and my instinct is to shoot off a response. But that would only make things worse. I’d be reacting defensively, and they’d be words that could come back to haunt me later. Then my finger hovers over the delete button, but I stop before doing that too. Better to keep them as evidence but not grant them a reply. Anything I have to say about our son will be done face to face.

  You said I could see Jake in your home and at your convenience only, and I agreed to that because I just want to see him. But the longer it takes for you to get back to me, the more afraid I am you won’t let me see him at all. Please, Sacha. It’s important for Jake’s wellbeing that he’s given the chance to get to know me.

  A shout comes in and I pocket the phone, wishing I’d never looked at it. Because for the rest of the night all I can think of is that the walls are closing in. With an uncharacteristic sense of foreboding, I can’t shake the dread that Darren’s building a case against me that could challenge what Jen had implied was a near impossibility. He’s going to take Jake away from me. Any way he can.

  Chapter 37

  One week. That’s all that’s left before Dad and Shirley take Jake to Scotland. Seven days in which to hold Darren at bay. When they go, they’ll be gone for two weeks, maybe three, depending on whether Jake gets homesick. That will give me more time to look for Eliza and get first-hand from her what living at Ty Bryn was really like. If Lauren has lied, I’ll need to reconsider what my motives are. My recent instinctual dislike of Darren won’t be enough of a reason to keep him from having a relationship with his son. But if Lauren told the truth, then at best I can put a halt on that relationship entirely, and at worst maintain control over it and limit contact under my own conditions. Either way, he’ll take Jake from me only over my dead body.

  The thoughts spinning in my head have me longing to see my son when the shift ends. But his granddad’s taken him to the park as he said he would, so I settle for speaking to him on the phone instead. He’s breathless from running, but not so much that he doesn’t spend five minutes rushing through the plans he’s made to go exploring with Grampy, and the baby Highland cows Nanna Shirley’s promised to show him. The only thing that slows him down is when he asks why I can’t go with them. Sitting on the stairs, having just come in through the door, I slump against the wall and tell him I wish I could.

  ‘I have to work this time, darling. You remember how we said sometimes people need me to keep them safe? But there’ll be plenty of other times we can go together. While I take care of things here, I want you to go with Grampy and snap lots of photos on your new phone, and draw pictures, and write about what you’ve seen, so that when you come back I can find out all about it from you. Okay? You’ll be my reporter, which means I’ll have to know everything.’

  Satisfied with this, and with his attention diverted by the arrival of the ice-cream van, the conversation ends. I talk briefly to Dad, let him know I’ll call round later before shift starts again. Then when we hang up, I consider going over to see Shaun, but I don’t have the energy left and I’m on a short enough fuse as it is. It wouldn’t take much for me to make the situation worse. Instead I go to bed.

  As I lie there with the sun streaming into the bedroom through the gap at the edge of the blackout curtains, I think about what it would be like to move north with Dad and Shirley. For a moment I feel the relief that would bring, to be far from this mess I walked myself and my son right into. But it’s not long before that temporary utopia melts under the glare of reality. I’d be leaving Mam behind (the spot in the crematorium where I lay flowers every month), and Shaun too, my job, the place I grew up in. Jake would be leaving his school, his friends, his whole life uprooted. And for what? For one man who it doesn’t matter where we go won’t give up as easily as all that. He won’t decide the effort’s just too great simply because we’re in another part of the country. He’ll persist regardless. In the same way I would if the tables were turned. Which means if he does get custody, of any kind, what then? I’d be splitting Jake between Scotland and Wales, putting all those miles between us, not knowing what Darren was filling his head with, how he’s treating him, what’s really going on at Ty Bryn when I’m not there. So no. Scotland’s a terrible idea. Better to be close to the enemy than so far out of his reach that if Jake needs me I’m useless.

  I slide under the duvet, thinking of Eliza Isaacs. I had done a standard Google search a few nights ago after speaking to Lauren, but it brought up nothing. I’ll need to dig deeper. Asking Lauren will only raise her suspicions – it’s a bit odd that I should show so much interest in her family after all these years. She might be my only option though if I can’t get an address any other way.

  But it’s as I’m drifting off to sleep, head caught somewhere between thoughts and dreams, that something comes to me which has me snapping my eyes open. A conversation with Craig in my bedroom. He didn’t talk about his family all that often, but we’d been sharing a bottle of lager that I’d pinched from Shaun’s room, and maybe it had loosened his tongue. I was lamenting that my extended family were all Welsh, no foreign or interesting lineage in my bloodline to speak of, and he assured me I wasn’t missing out on anything. Having an Irish mother didn’t make life any more fruitful, he’d explained, it just meant he had a bunch of family living in rural Ireland that he’d never met and had no particular desire to. I remember thinking it was strange that his family was split like that and he was so ambivalent to it, but he shrugged it off, said his lot was fucked up enough without adding any more into the mix. We’d finished the lager and the conversation and never spoke about it again, there was nothing else to add. But the details of it come back to me now as if Craig’s whispered them into my ear.

  County Mayo. That’s where he said his mother’s family lived. On a farm in the middle of nowhere. In County Mayo.

  Chapter 38

  Five hours later, after a patchy sleep, I’m downstairs at the kitchen table with a mug of coffee in one hand while the other hangs poised over the laptop keyboard. My earlier enthusiasm at recalling my conversation with Craig has been dowsed. County Mayo covers an expanse of over five and a half thousand kilometres on the west coast of Ireland, and it’s got more farms than South Wales has disused coal mining pits. Not knowing Eliza’s maiden name puts me at more of a disadvantage, as does the fact that most of the farms have names that describe what they do or what they offer rather than which family they belong to. I’m either going to need to find out more about the twins’ mother somehow, or else have to call every one of these farms and hope to hit potluck prior to breaching the overdraft limit.

  *

  ‘Sanderson.’

  ‘Yes, Sarge?’

  ‘Charlotte Stevens. What gives?’

  ‘She’s reported an allegation of assault and rape, naming the suspect as an individual known to Sex Crimes who has now taken over the case. Stevens herself has been moved to alternative accommodation and is receiving appropriate support from welfare services.’

  Roberts peers over the frame of his glasses, where he stands with one elbow propped on top of a filing cabinet. He’s caught me just as briefing has ended and before I could get out of the room, and now his critical evaluation is putting me on edge. Not only because of Smithy’s involvement at the hospital yesterday – images of which will be all over CCTV, and to which at least one staff member, Charlotte’s nurse, could testify – but also because less than an hour ago, I returned Smithy’s call from earlier this afternoon in which he requested the name of an individual he arrested on more than one occasion. He gave me the ballpark date of arrest and
the crime, and I availed him of the name with no questions asked and thankfully no reasons given. In doing so, I repaid him for his help with Charlotte, and to some selfish degree soothed my guilty conscience that I haven’t been able to extend the same trust in his innocence that our victim had. But I’ve done all that at the risk of my career. In which case, a permanent move to Scotland might still be on the cards.

  ‘I’ve got eyes, Sanderson,’ Roberts says, ‘and at thirteen my English teacher informed me I had a reading age of a forty-year-old. I’ll be honest, I’m not entirely sure what she meant by that, but the point is I’ve read the report and you’re not telling me anything I don’t already know. What I’m more interested in is how you managed it.’

  ‘Sarge?’

  He drops the file he’s holding into the cabinet and slams the drawer shut with enough force, the din bouncing off the walls echoes the thud of my heart in my chest.

  ‘Stevens. Looks like we’ve had all this with her before. Mouthing off and then changing her mind and jumping ship. How d’you make it stick this time?’

  Well, now, here’s the thing…

  ‘Think she’s just had enough, Sarge. Got to the end of her rope and wants this life she’s stuck in to be over with. She’s just a kid. All flounce and noise on the outside but as scared as anything underneath. She needed someone to relieve her of the decision. And once she’d met us halfway, that’s what we did. What SC will hopefully do.’

  Roberts moves over to the desk at the front of the room and tents his fingers on it, releasing a heavy sigh through his nose as he pins his lips together. ‘Well, Sanderson, you’re to be commended, I’ll give you that. Your people skills are a credit to you and a strength for us, particularly where the younger generation is concerned. That might be because you’re closer to their age than us old fogies, or it might just be a natural gift you have. I don’t care either way, just keep it up, you make my end-of-year reports look good.’

  ‘Of course, Sarge. Thank you. But I get the impression Neil had already made significant headway with her. Developed a rapport between her and us. I was just the one available when she was ready to jump the last hurdle.’

  ‘Yes, well, Smith’s not here, you are. Which reminds me. Before you go, one more thing.’ He props his finger at his lips as he comes around the desk. My pounding heart drops into my stomach. ‘The sergeant’s position. Why haven’t I had your application?’

  ‘Sergeant’s position? I’m less than six years in, Sarge. I need more miles in my boots before I think about progressing.’

  Roberts stares at me for an uncomfortable moment before he drops his hand from his mouth and points a finger in warning. ‘Don’t leave it too long. Sergeant is only the first rung of a very tall ladder at your feet, Sanderson.’

  I thank him and turn to go, but he stops me again.

  ‘By the way, that’s classified information, Officer, keep it to yourself. They don’t give the ladder to everyone, you know.’

  I wonder if he’s referring to himself as much as anyone; middle-aged, and passed over for the inspector role that’s been rubber-stamped for his colleague. Did he stand a chance against Fred Dalston? Did he even try? Either way, his praise couldn’t sit more uneasily with me. It’s undeserved. Not because I don’t rate myself as an officer, although I’m far behind my older and more experienced colleagues yet, but because my actions in the last thirty-six hours are a blatant betrayal of my duty. No matter that my intentions were good, breaching confidentiality is unethical and against the guidelines I agree to abide by when I wear the uniform. If Roberts knew that, there’d be no ladder for me to climb at all. Just one big slippery snake into oblivion.

  Chapter 39

  Sacha, I’m worried. I haven’t heard from you in days. Please let me know you’re okay, and Jake’s okay. If I don’t hear from you, I’ll call round, just to put my mind at rest. Or maybe I should check with your dad.

  10.27pm

  I’m working night shifts all this week, Darren. I’ll speak to you when I’m off next.

  11.42pm

  All week? Surely they must give you time off. It seems awful that you have to be kept from your family so long.

  11.43pm

  It doesn’t happen often. I’m covering for a colleague this week.

  12.25am

  Ah yes, of course. How on earth does a rapist become a police officer? Or an officer become a rapist? It’s always the ones you trust the most, isn’t it?

  12.27am

  Are you really working, Sacha? I’m concerned that maybe you’re deceiving me like you did before. We’ve already agreed I should be part of Jake’s life. It’s in his best interest. And I think he likes me, we got off to a good start.

  1.42am

  Thank you for the picture. It’s the first time I’ve seen you in uniform. It would be nice to have a complete one, not just half of your face. I could get it framed and put it in the living room for when Jake comes round. He must be proud of you for working so hard and doing such a dangerous job.

  2.05am

  Goodnight, Sacha. Be safe out there, won’t you? I’ll see you both very soon. X

  2.36am

  Chapter 40

  ‘Grampy will phone me tonight when you get there, and we’ll speak then, okay? We can talk every night if you want.’

  Jake nods against my shoulder. I hold him in my arms, his legs wrapped around my waist like he used to do when he was little. And now that the car’s packed and they’re ready to leave, I don’t think I can do it. I don’t think I can let him go.

  ‘You can Facetime,’ Shaun says behind me, where he’s sitting on the low wall outside their house. ‘I set it up on your phone, remember, Little Man?’

  ‘Oh yeah.’ Jake whips his head up from my shoulder so fast he almost catches my chin. ‘So we can video call?’ he asks his uncle.

  ‘Course you can, mate. You can even show your mam your bedroom and everything.’

  He sucks in a breath, eyes wide. ‘I can show you the baby Highland cows.’

  ‘Oh my god, that’s fantastic,’ I exclaim, sharing in his enthusiasm. Anything to stop myself from crying. If I cry, he won’t go.

  ‘Right you are then, Jakey,’ Dad says beside us. ‘Let’s get you buckled in so we can stop for ice cream on the way to the airport.’

  I squeeze him one more time and plant kisses over his cheeks and forehead, for which he complains. ‘Mam, the plane. We’ll miss the plane.’

  ‘Alright, alright.’ I set him down on the pavement and he runs to where Shirley helps him up into his seat and fastens the seatbelt.

  ‘He’ll be fine, love,’ Dad says. ‘I’ll make sure his phone’s topped up so he can text or Facetime or whatever he wants as often as he wants. I’ll take good care of him.’

  ‘God, I know that. But you have the Calpol in case he…’ Sees blood. Panics. Oh god. ‘That will calm him, make him sleepy. And if he gets homesick—’

  ‘Then I’ll leave Shirley there and bring him home on the next flight. I promise you that. Anyway, I’ll talk to you everyday so you know what’s going on. Whatever happens, we’ll be home for my birthday, so if you could just…’ He looks from me to Shaun and back again. Which is when I realise I’m not the only one waving off my offspring. ‘Please take care of each other.’

  I glance over my shoulder. But Shaun’s eyes are directed towards the car and he brushes the back of his hand under his nose.

  ‘We will, Dad,’ I say. ‘Don’t worry about us.’

  Dad taps me on the arm and looks over to Shaun. ‘See you, fella. Any problems with the house, phone me.’

  ‘Will do.’ Shaun raises his hand to Shirley, who’s waving at us from the other side of the car.

  ‘Take care, Tommy Trouble,’ she calls to him. And to me, she smiles. ‘Don’t worry, Sacha, love, he’ll have a great time. We’ll have plenty to keep him busy.’

  My smile is thin and strained in return, and the best I can manage is a sharp nod. Peering into the back
seat, I blow kisses to Jake, tell him I love him. Then I close the door with my heart in my throat. All this is as hard for Dad as it is for me, and he hesitates several times, frets over whether he’s got everything, before Shirley shouts at him and at last he gets in the driver’s seat. Both Shaun and I wave as the car backs up, then pulls away from the kerb, Jake waving frantically. We watch them drive down the street, pausing at the junction, before tooting the horn, turning left into the early afternoon traffic, and then they’re gone.

  I don’t know how long I stand watching the space they leave behind, but when I turn Shaun’s still standing there looking up the road same as I did. Twenty-eight he might be, but he’s never been in that house alone for longer than a couple of nights.

  ‘Thanks for doing that with the Facetime,’ I say, but with Dad’s words already forgotten, he goes inside and shuts the door.

  I walk to the next street, lock the door to my own house behind me, and stare around the silent hallway at Jake’s school bag hooked over the under-stairs cupboard handle where it’s been since he finished his last day yesterday. His school shoes, and his battered trainers not good enough for Scotland, are in a jumbled pile in the corner by the door. One of his cars is on the stairs. His old dressing gown is over the banister (his new one packed in his case). His voice reminding me to pack his toothbrush still rings in my ears, the thud of his bare feet over the landing echoes in the emptiness of my chest, and I drop onto the bottom stair with nothing now to stop the tears from falling. I wonder how the hell I’ll get through the next few hours without him, let alone the next three weeks. We’ve never been apart.