‘On leave officially… I think.’
Why he had done it baffled Tam now, sitting as he was trying to write up his witness statement and wondering what he’d done to deserve the last couple of days, but at the time he’d felt it was important, to see this through, and to somehow be a familiar face for the two kids involved. Both of them seemed to be lost souls, and being looked after by another bunch of lost souls didn’t seem as though it would help anyone.
He’d talked to Nick then, trying to calm him down and making the guys searching him let him turn round so that he was facing the sobbing brunette. The grandfather did not have a kind face; his body was wiry, and something in his manner was aggressive. Tam was already mentally making a case against him, through listening to Nick earlier and witnessing his distress; Tam now noticed that the grandfather was staring at Nick with a menace Tam had only seen a few times in his life, a look of threat and contempt with a bit of hatred in there for good measure.
Tam turned to his boss. ‘Sir, I was in that apartment with the perpetrator and he was talking a bit. The grandfather featured in Nick’s story, and it seemed to me like he sexually and emotionally abused him as a kid. We should take him in. He’s over there on the pavement.’
‘You sure? That boy doesn’t exactly look like a reliable witness.’
‘Take the grandfather, and maybe the mum too, down to the station. There’s something rotten here. Trust me: old-fashioned instincts.’
Dan, the on-scene commanding officer, lifted up the cordon and walked over to the couple. Tam watched him talk to them for a minute and was struck again by the dynamic: the pale face of the woman painted with insecurity and angst and a shadow of real fear, referring always with a nervous glance to her father, and then following behind him as he walked towards the police tape and Nick. As his mother disappeared behind his grandfather, Nick’s agitation heightened, and the screams of ‘No!’ got louder and more desperate. As the old man walked past his grandson, he seemed to dominate the space, and turned at the closest point to look Nick full in the face. He smiled at him then, a smile of triumph.
‘I always said you’d fuck up your life, you pathetic little piece of shit.’
Tam was between them before he knew he was going to move. He pushed the older man on to the bonnet of the nearest car and shouted for handcuffs.
‘Um, we don’t really do the whole Sweeney thing any more for people we’ve only asked to assist with enquiries, but here are the cuffs.’
It was some smartass twenty-five-year-old, a female one at that, and Tam let her put the cuffs on and make the arrest, hand on his head as he was put into the back of the car to make sure he didn’t hurt himself. Nick was in cuffs behind them, and they were about to place him into the back of the same vehicle, until Tam stepped in and beckoned another car. A few moments of peace followed after Nick and his grandfather were driven off and Tam took a breath. What to do now? He knew he was in too deep to drop it, and he shrugged and resigned himself to a long night at the station. He just hoped the Powers That Be would see it the way he did.
He needed his keys to get to the station. Ignoring the guy on the door, he walked back into the house, which was forever changed after the past few days, and let himself into his flat. He sat for a minute on his still unmade bed, and picked his keys up off the floor. He was tired.
When he got back outside, everything was over, and reporters were arriving now that there was nothing left to see. Tam was walking to his car, feeling vaguely as if the day was never going to end, when he realised that Nick’s mother was still standing on the pavement, alone, staring back at the house. In the confusion earlier no one had taken her to the station. She oozed vulnerability and she was very attractive – Tam’s Kryptonite. Enough crazy, complicated women; he needed to get his life straight and get back to work. He put his head down and fixed his car in his sights, but just as he was about to pass her he heard himself say, ‘Are you alright?’
Then, into the silence which met his question, he poured unasked-for information.
‘Hi, my name’s Tam, I’m Nick’s downstairs neighbour. I’m a policeman. D’you want to come with me down to the station? I’d offer you a cup of tea but the house is a crime scene, I’m afraid, and it might be days before I get back in.’
He was getting no response, so he held his hand out, and said again, ‘Tam.’
No response, no hand. She was obviously even more of a fruitcake than he’d thought.
‘Are you alright? Anything I can do for you?’
‘I’m Emma, Nick’s mum. They’ve arrested him, and my father. I don’t have anyone else.’
‘Come on, Emma, let me give you a lift, then. You can’t just wait here on the pavement; the place is heaving with reporters. Let me get you down to the station so you can check on Nick.’
Tam walked towards the car, slowly, but Emma remained where she was, looking completely dumbstruck and unable to move. Tam felt bad but he had to get out of there. He sat in the driver’s seat for a few moments and was just about to pull out and drive off when an over-enthusiastic young man in a Marks and Spencer suit stuck a microphone under Emma’s nose and began asking her questions. She was being pushed backwards towards the bins. Tam hadn’t been behind the wheel of his car for months – he didn’t know why he hadn’t sold it – but now that he was driving he felt he could offer some protection, and she couldn’t use public transport or drive herself in the state she was in. He got out of the car, walked back towards Emma and put his arm round her shoulders as the panic rose in her face. He sheltered her with his body as questions were fired at her. They got to the car and he opened her door. She got into the passenger seat and he told her to get her head down. She looked like a beautiful frightened deer, and he suddenly felt like a hunter or a voyeur. As they sped off he wished they had met under different circumstances and was already regretting his intervention.
When he managed to get safely round the corner and on to a quiet road, he stopped and turned to her. ‘Police station or home?’
‘What do you think I should do?’
Tam hesitated then, he felt himself standing on the edge of a familiar, mossy field. One that looked beautiful but which, once you took a step into it, might pull you down into a bog you couldn’t see and never let you up. It was a path he’d walked before, and he tried with all his might to resist answering. He waited, sighed, and focused on Emma’s face. The pleading look, and the sadness made his mind up. He took over, but made a decision there and then not to get sucked in any more than was professional. He didn’t have another emotional rollercoaster ride in him.
He looked straight ahead as he talked to her.
‘Come with me to the police station, and if you feel up to it we can talk about how things have got to this point. I think you might feel better if you were close to Nick, and then, if you’re strong enough later, you can tell me what you know about what might have driven him to this.’
They rode in silence to the station, although he could feel her eyes on him, and when they arrived she waited for him to come round and open her door. He didn’t have any ID and Tam found it unnerving to have to approach the window like a member of the public, and ask for the officer in charge of the murder – or was it double murder now, or even triple? He had obviously been more use earlier than he’d realised, though: they were expecting him, and the officer in charge was there in a matter of minutes. Tam had known the guy for years, and he’d obviously taken instructions from on high before coming to meet him. He took Tam to one side and in hushed tones began to fill him in.
‘Jesus, these fucking idiots – you have no idea what I’m dealing with. We all got back here, and when I asked for you no one had any idea where you were. Apologies, Tam, here’s a temporary warrant card. Can we count on you for help on this case, and hopefully beyond? I think we’ve all learned a lot of lessons. Can you spare the time, mate? We really need you on this one, then we can talk about consultancy, or make this work one way or an
other. The gaffer wants to have a round-table once he gets through the press conference and briefings. We’ve all missed you, mate.’
Even if Tam could have stuck to his guns at the beginning of the week, taken his pension and started down a new path, the events of the last few days had made him feel chaotic, unsafe and in need of the familiar, a routine. Being back in a nick, and being needed, was making him feel a whole lot better, about himself and his life. He made up his mind: he would do what he could from the inside and stop dreaming about changing the world.
He took a deep breath and beckoned to Emma.
‘Sir, this is Nick’s mother, Emma. We have her son in custody in connection with the murder and the kidnapping in the flat earlier and, as you know, he’s a person of interest in the park murder and GBH last week. I think it would be helpful for us to sit down and have a chat about Nick’s background and try to find out as much as we can about him. Nick said some pretty disturbing things while we were in the flat together and I would like to try and get some insight into the background while we’re here.’
Tam’s senior colleague stuck out his hand towards Emma.
‘Charles Metcalfe, excuse my manners. Would you mind accompanying Tam to an interview room? You aren’t in any sort of trouble; we just want to understand Nick and what’s happened to bring him to this point. We could also do with some medical history. We want to make sure we’re meeting all his needs.’
Tam led her through the locked door into the back of the station and towards an anonymous lino-floored room. They sat quietly while Tam waited for an officer and a fresh tape to record the interview. He wanted all this on record, and he wanted Emma to be able to unwind a little.
‘Where is Nick? I really need to see him.’
Tam glanced down at the table. He imagined that Nick was having his clothes removed for forensics, had been seen by a doctor and probably sedated. He was more than likely on his way to the Vulnerable Persons Unit in an ambulance if they’d managed to find a place for him with all the budget cuts. He was probably also in restraints and handcuffed.
He didn’t say that.
‘Nick will be being processed, don’t worry. They’ll make sure that a doctor is looking after him, and they’ll take him somewhere to be observed and kept safe. The best thing you and I can do for him is to get as much background as possible, so that we can help him and then we can try and arrange a visit.’
Emma stared ahead, not being unhelpful, but apparently having nothing to say. Tam noticed how unlined her face was.‘You must have been very young when you had Nick?’
A young female constable came in and loaded the tape recorder. Tam recorded her name, his own and Emma’s and they began.
‘Yes, I was young. I was sixteen. I’d never had much attention from the boys at school, and then a teacher saw something in me, and began to help me after lessons were over. He was so kind, and things at home were very difficult.’ She paused. ‘Where’s my father?’
Tam watched her as he replied. ‘He’s helping us with our enquiries, Emma.’
It was pitch dark outside now, and the atmosphere in the bare room was heavy. It was a moment that seemed charged with something important, some anticipation or difficulty. Tam felt himself overcome with the desire to lean in and help her, and had to look away from her face to break the spell.
Emma seemed to breathe out now that she knew her father wasn’t suddenly going to appear, and she began to open up.
‘He’s not a good man, my father, I know that. It’s been very difficult with Nick and me and him. I was terrified of him the whole time I was growing up, and then the first time someone showed me kindness I just soaked it up. I thought my teacher was such a good man; he seemed to really care about me. But as soon as I turned sixteen he slept with me, and I think it hurt even more than what my dad had done.’
‘Sorry Emma, who are we talking about here?’
‘The teacher, Nick’s dad. He gave me after-school lessons then slept with me. He got me pregnant. He didn’t want anything to do with me or Nick once he found out, and my dad was furious. Dad locked me in my room and called me a slut and a whore. I cried my eyes out. He even hit me across the face when I told him, and when he’d had a whisky he would come into my room and scream at me about how I had let them down, Mum and Dad, and what an embarrassment I was. I wouldn’t tell him who the father was. I protected him.’
‘So, then what happened when Nick came along? Did you both live with your parents?’
‘My mum was alive and she kept Dad under some sort of control in the beginning, I suppose, although my dad was quite involved. He thought Nick shouldn’t be growing up in a female environment, and made it his job to teach him manners, and do the discipline side of things. I was working part-time by then, and I tried to keep going, but my dad had Nick on the days I worked even though it used to make me feel sick with worry leaving him with Dad. I didn’t have any choice; I couldn’t afford to move out, I couldn’t cope. From the time he was a baby I knew that Nick was different; he didn’t need to be cuddled, didn’t respond to his name. By the time he was three it was obvious that something wasn’t right, and when he started school he’d missed a lot of developmental milestones and that’s when the SEN got involved, but Nick just got more and more withdrawn. He was statemented and diagnosed with mid-range autism when he was five and that was the year I got pregnant with Billy.’
Tam watched her face; the ghosts of her lost child and the lost dreams for Nick were walking across it. Her eyes filled with tears.
‘My mum died when Billy was six months old and my dad never really got over it. It just seemed to make him meaner. We carried on living together, the three of us, but he picked on Nick day after day, calling him names, hitting him. I’d left my job when Billy was born, and tried never to leave Nick, but it was hard to take him with me everywhere; he didn’t like shops, or mums and babies groups, and it was just easier to take Billy. One day I got home from work and Nick had locked himself in the bathroom. I could hear him screaming from inside and my dad had already kicked out a panel in the door. I went to the council with Billy and they found me a two-bed flat. I moved in with both boys but my father was furious. He would come and visit when Nick was at school. He never gave me a chance to get free. He hated Nick, and the more I tried to sort him out, the more involved Dad got. In the end Nick started staying at my Dad’s most of the time; I was too exhausted to argue. I know how terrible a mother I sound, but he wore me down, and Nick was such a handful.
‘One Saturday, Dad came over with Nick. Billy had a really high temperature and had been ill for a couple of days. I rang the doctor, who told me to give him Calpol and keep him cool, but when I was in the hall arguing with Dad Billy had a convulsion and died. Nick was in the room with him. It was meningitis and I’d missed it. I should have taken him to the hospital; I should have spotted the rash. I’ve never forgiven myself, and nor has my dad. I never had the strength to fight him again. When he was a teenager I got Nick to a psychiatrist for a full evaluation because I thought it might make Dad stop, but he insisted on taking him instead of me, and it made Nick even worse and didn’t change my dad’s behaviour at all. All I could do was use the money my mum had left to put down a deposit on a flat for Nick as soon as I could, and he moved in when he was twenty. I failed both my boys. I loved Nick so much, but I couldn’t protect him. I thought he was safe. I’m so sorry; I thought he was fine. He’s never hurt anyone in his life.’
Tam listened to the story and his focus shifted from Nick to Emma’s father. What kind of man drove a vulnerable child with autism to the brink? Who treated his own daughter like that?
Emma looked up at Tam.
‘Nick was the sweetest boy. I used to tell him that we were a unit. We understood each other. I could have got the best there was out of him. I know he had his problems, but Dad wouldn’t let him be, and I didn’t keep him safe. Without my dad Nick would still have been autistic, of course he would, but my dad made hi
m worse, not better. All children need encouragement, help, guidance, but children like Nick need it most of all, and my dad broke what was already cracked instead of trying to mend it. I’m so sorry.’
Tam had tried to think of a way of protecting her from what he had to say next. There wasn’t one. He took a deep breath.
‘Emma, I listened carefully to what Nick was saying today when we were in his flat. I need to ask you something and I want you to think carefully before you answer. Do you think it’s possible that your father was sexually abusing your son?’
One year later …
17 | Tam
‘Permanence, perseverance and persistence in spite of all obstacles, discouragements and impossibilities. It is this, that in all things distinguishes the strong soul from the weak.’
— Thomas Carlyle
Tam was not familiar with Notting Hill. He had never realised that within the grubby, multicultural vastness of London there existed sunlit pockets where everyone drove Teslas and Bentleys and shopped for collapsible Lumo plastic bowls to carry in case your Boston terrier got thirsty outside a trendy restaurant. There was even a gritty side to it, with the street market and the demographic, millionaires’ mansions side by side with tower blocks and, not far away, the burned-out corpse of Grenfell Tower. Tam hadn’t wanted to work here, but he was loving it.
Before this, Tam had only understood rubbish on pavements and discarded Chicken Cottage containers, not shared platters for breakfast served on Italian olive wood, or a choice of five different varieties of freshly squeezed orange juice. It was the relaxation of affluence and Tam did his best to kick against it, but the exhaustion of the past year had slowly overcome his reservations, and he had started to find community work, as well as the fact of actually seeing results with kids he was helping, personally rewarding in a way he had never expected. He had even toyed with taking up running, and the other morning had wondered what wheatgrass tasted like. Any desire he had once had to challenge the world, or put society right as a whole, had fallen away, and Tam spent his days on his pet work project: Nick.
The Man on the Middle Floor Page 22