Bitter Blue

by Cath Staincliffe

  ‘I can’t go back,’ Minty said.

  ‘You bloke’s done that to you?’

  ‘Partner,’ I said, ‘Minty lives with Caroline, they know Chris and Jo. They were there on Saturday.’

  ‘Bloody hellfire!’ Diane stood with her mouth open, hands on hips. She checked my eyes for confirmation. I gave it. ‘I didn’t recognise you,’ she said to Minty.

  ‘Please, let me stay,’ Minty said, ‘I’m scared.’

  I thought of Maddie, the decorating, Ray and Tom, Sheila. Work. It was a bad idea. I didn’t want to let her into my home. Acknowledging it made me feel unkind.

  ‘No,’ I managed. ‘We’ll sort something else out.’ I took a sip of tea, my hand shook lightly. ‘You must see a doctor.’

  She began to shake her head. I butted in. ‘Don’t be daft. You need to start thinking about yourself. Your nose could be broken, your eye looks terrible and those cuts – they’ll heal better if they’re properly treated.’ And there would be a file then too. With her injuries on record. We both knew that.

  ‘Where will I go, though?’

  Had Minty any money, could she afford a B&B? I glanced at Diane. Feeling trapped.

  Diane spoke. ‘You can stay at mine for a bit till you can sort something out.’

  Minty nodded, her mouth clenching like a child on the verge of tears. ‘Thank you.’

  ‘But there’s a condition,’ Diane said, ‘we go to Casualty first.’

  Minty’s shoulders slumped. ‘Not MRI, and not Wythenshawe.’ She was frightened that Caroline would come after her.

  ‘Stockport,’ I said. ‘Where did you go last night?’

  ‘Just walked.’

  ‘She let you go?’

  ‘I hid, she set off in the car, looking …’ her voice went high and thin.

  ‘You walked all night?’

  ‘My things are at home, I’ve no money or anything.’ Her hand jerked and tea spilt on her jeans. ‘Sorry,’ she said, wiping at it. ‘I didn’t know where to go. Caroline was tired, there’s a lot of people off work with stress, she’s so much on …’

  ‘Minty. Caroline assaulted you. Don’t make excuses for her.’

  ‘Don’t tell anyone, please?’ She bowed her head, begging me.

  I sipped my tea. ‘Are you going to leave her?’

  She hesitated.

  ‘Are you going to report it?’

  ‘I don’t know.’

  ‘How long have you been together?’

  ‘Three years. We bought the house together.’

  ‘Three years?’

  ‘She didn’t used to …’

  Beat me?

  ‘ …just she gets so uptight, not sleeping and …’

  It was a story I’d heard many times but it had always been a he before.

  ‘We’d better go,’ Diane put down her mug.

  ‘Ring me later,’ I told Diane.

  Minty got to her feet.

  ‘You could do with a coat,’ I told her.

  ‘Mine’d swamp you,’ Diane observed.

  I was nearer to Minty’s size. I found a fleece that I wore for walking.

  ‘Thanks.’ She put it on carefully. Sore in places that didn’t show.

  After they had gone I felt dizzy with fatigue. I considered lying down but sleeping in the day often led to a restless night so I compromised. I laid on the floor and did some slow breathing and stretching exercises, relaxing the stiff muscles in my back and neck and loosening the spiral of adrenalin that had plaited my guts.

  I’d actually drifted off when the phone startled me. It was Rachel, the social worker.

  ‘Sal,’ she spoke softly, ‘I don’t know if you’ve heard, the couple you were asking about …’

  ‘I found them. I was the passer-by in the reports.’

  ‘Oh, my God. I’m so sorry. What happened?’

  I explained. ‘They reckon it’s hypothermia.’

  I heard her intake of breath.

  ‘The place was filthy. There was no heat, no gas or electricity, the water was off too. They were using a bucket for a toilet. How can that happen?’

  ‘If we’d only … Sal, I don’t know. Some people don’t want intervention.’

  ‘They died like animals, Rachel, worse, there was no dignity.’

  There was silence. Unusual for Rachel who’s the talkative type.

  ‘Scavengers had been at his body,’ I persisted. What did I want from Rachel? She was a social worker but hardly culpable for something outside her own caseload, for the failings of the service that employed her.

  ‘They were just left to rot.’

  ‘You don’t know, Sal. They may have chosen not to accept any help. Some people do.’

  ‘What I saw – that wasn’t a choice. It stinks,’ I said.

  ‘We don’t know the history. People have to be referred or at least brought to our attention. And it happens, sadly it’s not all that unusual, you know, deaths from hypothermia. People on a pension – sometimes it’s a toss-up between food and heat.’

  ‘Is that supposed to make me feel better?’

  ‘No. But the Smiths aren’t alone. And you’re right: it stinks.’

  ‘I’m sorry,’ I sighed, ‘I’m all over the place today. I feel so cross, and it’s so sad and then I start to feel guilty.’

  ‘Don’t.’

  My eyes strayed to the garden. I watched a magpie stab at the grass. ‘Some people say we get the world we deserve. I don’t know about that but this – it shouldn’t be like this. It’s not right.’

  I couldn’t rest after. I got a pen and paper from the computer desk, trying to distract myself, shift my worry onto Lucy Barker. Even if we sorted out the ultimatum to Benjamin I didn’t trust her to come clean if he broke it. She was besotted. But what I could do was compile a summary of his actions to date which I could give to the police if it were needed.

  My progress was slow, my mind drifting about but eventually I had it all in order and typed up. Dates, times and details. Three o’clock. A sudden rush of panic made me reel – Maddie and Tom – but I remembered immediately that they were out to tea. Ray would pick them up later. I didn’t want to think about Ray.

  It was too cold and horrible to do any gardening, my usual answer to restlessness. I looked glumly at the playroom. Half an hour? It always takes longer than I think – and more paint. I’d just started a second coat on the ceiling when the phone rang. Katy’s mum.

  ‘Sal, we thought Maddie was coming for tea.’

  ‘She is.’ My stomach dropped like stone.

  ‘I’m at school. We can’t find her.’

  Chapter Twenty

  A stream of nightmares danced their way through my mind as I raced to school. Images from countless tragedies, TV newsreels, posters in shop windows, parents with tearstained faces making pleas, small coffins. I’d rung Ray’s mobile and left a message: you haven’t picked the kids up have you?

  Just a mix-up, just a mix-up. Terror sang through my veins. My breath was thick, stuck like glue behind my breastbone, as if by holding onto it I could keep her safe. Just a mix-up.

  The playground was deserted, I found Fiona and Katy in the reception area along with Miss Dent and Mrs Tewkes and a uniformed policewoman. There was an air of tight panic about them. My legs buckled. I stumbled and fell against the wall. It was the uniform. People rushed to help me. I shook my head trying to clear it.

  ‘I’m fine,’ I lied.

  ‘She’s probably gone with Tom,’ someone said.

  ‘She’s a sensible child,’ Miss Dent reassured me.

  They asked me what she was wearing. God no. I rode the adrenalin, I had to stay strong. I couldn’t help Maddie if I crumbled but I could feel my heart tripping and bucking, the rhythm all wrong. I couldn’t remember what she had been wearing, what if I was mistaken, told them the wrong colours? I fought to recall the morning. I had an image but I’d no idea whether it was accurate. Her red top, I think, navy trousers, powder blue, fur-trimmed Eskimo coat,
black ankle boots – nubuck.

  Ray rang.

  ‘Maddie’s missing. Ring Adam’s, see if Tom’s there, if they saw her.’

  I had to repeat it for him.

  He grasped the seriousness of the situation, gave a terse ‘right’, and rang off.

  ‘She was in school till the end of the day?’ the police officer asked Miss Dent.

  ‘Yes. I didn’t see her leave. The juniors can go out into the playground as soon as they’re ready,’ she explained.

  Why? I wanted to tear her head from her shoulders, why aren’t they kept, like the little ones, until someone picks them up? Why didn’t you look after her? Totally irrational, I know.

  ‘D’you think she might have gone home?’ Fiona asked.

  ‘I’ll go back there, check.’

  There was a ghastly silence then several people spoke at once. Mrs Tewkes arranged to ring round all Maddie’s friends. The policewoman asked for my mobile number and I left that with them. The caretaker appeared, a scouser who knew most of the kids by name. A kind man, unlike the caretakers I remembered from my schooldays who’d been a cross between Attila the Hun and Frankenstein’s monster.

  ‘I’ll keep lookin’. But she’s not ‘ere.’

  I drove home offering endless prayers to unnamed gods. Why hadn’t I listened to her? She hadn’t wanted to go to school. If only I’d kept her home. I should have paid more attention. As well as blaming myself my mind taunted me with crazy, scary possibilities, some completely bizarre: Benjamin Vernay had got her, Caroline had kidnapped her to force Minty home.

  I ran through the house calling for her. Sheila came down the top stairs from her attic flat to see what was wrong.

  I explained.

  ‘She’ll be all right,’ she said, her face creased with worry but her eyes calm. ‘She will.’ She tried to make it sound like a certainty but it could only be a hope.

  Ray got back as soon as I was pulling my bike out of the shed. She’d be on foot, easier to see her from the bike than the car. Where would she go? The park? The shops? Christ, she was only seven, she never went anywhere on her own.

  ‘The police are looking,’ I kept my jaw rigid to hold everything together.

  ‘I’ll try the park,’ Ray said, ‘maybe Digger …’

  I made a noise, a burst of laughter choked with tears. Digger was useless as far as dog skills went. He looked the part but in terms of guarding humans, chasing cats or even retrieving sticks he was a waste of space. Ray touched my elbow, trying for a gesture of comfort. I held up my hands: no. The intimacy would break me.

  I cycled up and down the roads between our house and the school. It’s only half-a-mile. I wove up and down every side road, the cul-de-sacs, the alleys. My hands numb on the handlebars and my eyes watering with the cold. Past the Fire Station, round by the old cinema, Cine City, now up for sale and up as far as Withington Library. I explored all around the shops on Copson Street and the car parks at the back, down past the swimming baths, along Oak Road and Christie’s Hospital. I went into Mohammed’s on the corner; he knew us well but he hadn’t seen her. I asked the paper girl. I stopped people in the street trying to keep the hysteria from my voice. And I prayed, talking to her all the while, telling her how much I loved her, how wonderful she was, how she filled my life with passion and challenges, humour and pleasure. Grounded me. Made me complete.

  It began to rain at five, the cold weather breaking as warmer, westerly winds pushed cloud in from over the Irish Sea. I called back at the house, Digger nearly knocked me over, keen to get out, probably thought Ray had gone walkies without him.

  ‘Have some tea,’ Sheila slid a mug across the table. ‘Ray’s gone back into the village.’

  I cradled the mug, stood staring out at the back garden. Digger walked across the lawn wagging his tail.

  ‘I just don’t …’ I broke off. Digger was by the old tree in the corner. Beside him a smudge of powder blue in the sullen light. Movement, a hood edged with fur.

  I gave a little squeak, spilled hot tea over my hand as I put it down and dashed to the door. Shelia frowned at me then looked out and saw what I had.

  ‘Oh, thank God.’

  She was sitting on one of the big stones around the low bed beneath the tree. Her arms were wrapped round her knees, head bent. Digger walked back to greet me presumably feeling full of himself.

  I squatted next to her and drew her close. I couldn’t speak for a few moments, didn’t want to break down in front of her. Had to be strong for her. Finally I tried my voice. ‘Oh, Maddie. I’ve been so worried about you. You okay?’ She gave a little nod. I sat beside her on the wet stone and pulled her up onto my knee. I could see she’d been crying. I savoured the feel of her, the weight of her on me, the warmth of her.

  ‘People have been looking for you, we’d better tell them you’re home.’

  ‘I’m sorry, Mummy.’

  ‘It’s all right. Let’s go in and get dry and you can tell me all about it.’

  Sheila made toast, more tea for me and hot chocolate for Maddie while I rang the school, the police and Ray.

  Later we lay side by side on my bed, the curtains drawn, the lamps lit.

  ‘You have to tell me what’s going on, Maddie.’

  ‘Nothing.’

  ‘No!’ I made an effort to soften my tone. ‘No, you left school on your own – you know that’s not safe, you know you’re not allowed to do that. Tell me why.’

  ‘I can’t,’ her voice tight with anguish.

  ‘Yes, you can.’

  She made snuffling noises. I rolled over and hugged her.

  ‘You can. What was it? Something at school? Something with Carmel?’

  She flinched.

  ‘Maddie, you have to tell me.’

  ‘No.’

  ‘You have to,’ I insisted.

  ‘She said she’d kill me,’ she blurted out.

  ‘Who? Carmel?’

  ‘Katy.’

  ‘Katy! Why?’

  ‘She hates me and she said she’d kill me and she’ll kill you and it’ll be my fault. She gets me into trouble and if I don’t so what she says … and she keeps picking on Carmel and she made me do it, too. I didn’t want to Mummy. Really, really I didn’t want to. She said she’d cut my tongue off.’ The words came thick and fast, a torrent: urgent and terrified.

  ‘When did Katy say that?’

  ‘Lots of times. Ages and ages.’

  Katy had joined the class in September. Maddie and she had made friends almost straight away.

  ‘And if I tell her to stop she just says she’ll kill me and no one will believe me. And now she’ll do it …’ Her voice rose and broke.

  ‘Maddie, Maddie, you’re safe. She won’t hurt you. She can’t. She said some very bad things but she’s just trying to frighten you. I’ll make sure you’re safe. Nothing will happen.’

  While I spoke the thump of guilt was reverberating through me. Why? Why hadn’t Maddie told me, looked for my help, my protection. Why hadn’t she trusted me rather that go through all this?

  ‘Why didn’t you tell me before?’

  ‘I don’t know.’

  ‘And Miss Dent doesn’t know anything about it?’

  ‘No.’

  There I had been inviting Katy to the pictures, to tea, pushing the girls together. No inkling that Maddie was living in dread of her.

  ‘Carmel didn’t say anything about Katy?’

  ‘Cos Katy said she’d kill her but Carmel knew I wouldn’t.’

  Oh, Maddie.

  ‘But you were unkind to Carmel too, weren’t you?’ I checked gently. Had that all been untrue?

  ‘Yes. I made her cry.’ The memory brought fresh tears. She burrowed her face into my neck and I made shushing sounds until she quietened.

  ‘We’ll sort it out,’ I said.

  ‘Don’t tell, please, Mummy.’ She was panicking.

  ‘It’s the only way. That’s how we stop bullies. Katy will have to stop being mean,
she’ll have a points card like you.’

  ‘No, no.’ She continued to protest.

  ‘Yes. That’s what we’re going to do. I’m not arguing with you about it. It’s the only way.’

  She cried for a bit and I held her close.

  ‘We can ask them to put Katy in the other class.’

  ‘Could we?’ The hope in her voice cut me to the quick.

  ‘I’ll talk to Miss Dent tomorrow.’

  ‘Do I have to go to school?’

  God forbid, she needed some recovery time. ‘Day off – while we sort things out.’

  There was tapping at my door.

  ‘Hello?’

  Ray opened it. Tom with him.

  ‘Thought we’d have a ride to the park and back. Stopped raining. What d’you think?’

  God, no. Just let me rest.

  Maddie tilted her head at me. ‘Will you come?’

  The four of us cycled, Digger running alongside. I was tired beyond belief. The last twenty-four hours had been unremitting trauma. My limbs ached from the tension, my mouth tasted foul, my eyes felt hard and I squinted against the fading light. Maddie was ahead, legs pumping, ringing her bell. I soaked up the sight of her. She was safe: anything else I could bear.

  Ray was in the kitchen when I’d finished putting the kids to bed.

  ‘She all right?’

  ‘Yes. It’s Katy. Katy’s been bullying her and egging her on to bully Carmel. A little hierarchy of bullies.’

  He shook his head, exhaled.

  ‘I never imagined …’

  ‘Poor kid.’

  ‘Least it’s out in the open now. She’s staying home tomorrow, I’ll talk to the school.’

  ‘And how are you?’ His voice softer.

  I shrugged. Felt prickles on my neck. ‘Shattered.’ I moved towards the door.

  ‘Sal,’ he followed.

  ‘Not now.’

  ‘Last night …’

  ‘Not now, Ray.’ I looked away.

  Maybe he was going to apologise, or explain how he thought he’d misread the situation or declare undying love for me. Whatever, I was in no shape for anything else that day.

  He took a step closer. I could smell him, hear the rhythm of his breath. ‘We can’t just …’

  ‘Ray, please.’