by Amy Lloyd
‘I’ve come to take you out,’ Jack says. ‘Lunch, bowling, whatever. Lady’s choice!’
‘Can I talk to you a minute, please?’ I ask him, smiling hard. All I want to do is crawl into bed and watch Dr Isherwood’s dot on my phone.
‘See you girls later, yeah?’ Jack says. He winks; they laugh.
Jack follows me around the corner out of sight of the women. When I stop and turn to look at him he offers me the rose and I make the mistake of taking it. He leans in and tries to kiss my cheek but I lean away and he misses.
I look at him and his hopeful face and suddenly I have an idea.
‘I can’t come out with you,’ I say, and I point my foot towards him and lift my jeans enough to expose my ankle tag. Jack finds this hilarious and doubles over laughing. I feel my face redden and pull the jeans back over the tag in case any of the other women come to see what’s so funny.
‘You naughty girl,’ Jack says. ‘I love it! What you get that for?’
‘I didn’t do anything,’ I say. ‘It wasn’t my fault.’
Jack laughs again. ‘You’re fucking special you are,’ he says. ‘It’s always the quiet ones.’
‘Right. But anyway, I have a curfew here and the ankle tag means I can’t go certain places and they’ll know if I’m not home on time. So—’
‘If I take you out I’ll have to get you back here in plenty of time, yeah?’
‘Well, I was thinking that, um …’ I try to think how Sean would say it. ‘That you might know someone who could help me out with it. You know?’
‘How’d you mean?’ Jack says. I can’t tell if he’s teasing me, if he already knows what I mean but wants to hear me say it.
‘I guess I heard that sometimes, if you, like, pay someone … that they’ll fit it looser so you can – you know – slide it off if you really need to.’
‘Why would you need to do that?’ he asks. Now I know what he wants me to say, I know what he wants to hear and I know that if I say it then he will help me.
‘If I ever wanted to stay over somewhere. I guess.’ I look away, feeling gross, but knowing that I have to do this if I want to know the truth about Dr Isherwood.
‘Maybe I know someone,’ Jack says. ‘Go get yourself dressed up for our date and I’ll give my mate a call.’
I run upstairs and I throw the rose into the bin in my room and look for my nicest clothes, which aren’t really that nice but will have to do for now. I look at all my underwear, feeling an involuntary shudder when I think of how I will probably have to have sex with Jack later, and try to find a decent pair. All of the knickers seem grungy and dirty. Then I find the set I took, the emerald-green lace bra and pants. I rub the material between my thumb and finger, then shove it to the back of the drawer and choose a pair of baggy black pants that are only a little frayed and a flesh-coloured bra. I don’t want Jack to think this means anything to me.
I swing my bag back over my shoulder and go downstairs, every bit of my body telling me not to go, except for the tiny part of me that knows I must because I have to go to Dr Isherwood’s house. I have to find out if Sean is lying.
‘That was quick,’ Jack says when he sees me. His phone is still in his hand. ‘Normally girls spend forever doing their make-up and hair.’
‘Yes, I’ve heard,’ I say.
‘Low-maintenance,’ Jack says with a nod. ‘I like it.’
I look at his phone, hoping he’ll tell me it’s sorted.
‘So?’ I ask when my patience runs out.
‘You’ll have to wait and see,’ Jack says. ‘First, I’m taking you bowling.’
The date seems to last forever. The bowling alley is noisy and overwhelming and I have to wear shoes that have had hundreds of other feet in them before me and stick my fingers into holes on the balls that have had hundreds of other fingers in before. By the end of our three games I feel like I need a shower, not only because of the ghosts of all the other people who have been here before me but because of the way Jack insists on correcting my technique by standing behind me and guiding my arms, his crotch pressed into my lower back.
My phone keeps buzzing with calls from Sean. Whenever I get the chance I check on Dr Isherwood. Still at home, even though it is a weekday and she should be in work. After bowling Jack takes me to a place that only sells desserts. Inside, all the furniture is black and purple; there are neon lights and glitter on the tables. If it wasn’t for the ice cream behind the glass counter I would believe we were in a strip club.
I don’t want anything but Jack forces me to order something, so I get three scoops of sorbet with some chopped fruit. Jack orders waffles that come topped with loads of different ice creams and wafers and chocolate. He takes a picture of it on his phone and then forces me to pose with him for a selfie.
The later it gets the more I lose hope that he can even get my tag loosened. I think that Jack has just been stringing me along when suddenly his phone rings and he answers.
‘Half an hour?’ he’s saying. ‘No problem, mate, appreciate it. Cheers. See you then. Nice one. Cheers.’ Jack hangs up and turns to me. ‘Come on then, chick, time to get you off the naughty step.’
Suddenly I feel my stomach lurch. I realise this is just one more lie and that more will come because of it, until there are so many I won’t know where it started.
33
Her: Then
Auntie Fay tries to turn over when the news comes on but I ask if we can watch it.
‘I want to see,’ I say. Uncle Paul takes the remote out of her hand and they watch me as I watch the television. It is the top story; it is always the top story.
‘Frederick Sampson was arrested today at his home following reports that he was seen with Luke Marchant …’
The news reporters are outside his house, the gate has yellow police tape across it and policemen stand on the pavement making sure the people with cameras and the people with signs don’t get too close to the house. They even have a helicopter that shows the house from above and you can see the cars and the bikes and the microwaves and the washing machines and all the bright plastic children’s toys that haven’t gone all funny and faded in the sun and the rain yet.
‘I think it’s disgusting,’ a woman on the TV says. She is holding a little girl’s hand. ‘It could have been my little girl, that’s what I keep thinking, my little girl. We only live a few streets away.’
‘Well, he’s always been a little odd,’ says a man who has a bag of shopping in his hand. I know the shop is Lewis News because they have blue carrier bags and nowhere else round here does. ‘Quiet, you know. We thought he was just … you know. That he wasn’t all there. Wouldn’t have thought he was capable of this, no, not at all.’
‘They always say this,’ Uncle Paul says. ‘Always, “Oh he was so quiet,” or, “We never thought he would do something like this.” We should have known.’ When Uncle Paul says this he sounds angry. I look at Auntie Fay and wonder if he’s angry at me.
‘Come here,’ Auntie Fay says to me. I try to sit next to her but she pulls me on her lap. ‘My big brave girl,’ she says. ‘Aren’t you? They’ve got him now. Thanks to you being brave enough to tell the truth.’ She kisses my head.
I glance at Ryan, who is sulking in the armchair while we cuddle on the sofa. He’s sitting sideways, his legs hanging over the arm of the chair. He scowls at me and I poke my tongue out at him.
‘Is it over now?’ I ask Auntie Fay.
‘Well,’ she says. She rubs my arm like she’s trying to warm me up. ‘We might have to go back to the police station again.’
‘Why?’ I ask, pulling away. ‘You promised that if I told them everything then it would be over!’
‘I just meant that you needed to get it over with, telling them, then you would feel better.’
But I don’t feel better. I just feel the same fear coming back. I don’t want to go back into the police station. We were in there almost all day before and the only pop they had was sugar free and it
didn’t taste nice and they only had Rich Tea biscuits and I was starving but they still made me tell them the story over and over again. Then they said they needed to talk to Sean and I cried because I didn’t know if Sean would be mad at me or not.
‘Whyyyyyyy?’ I ask Auntie Fay, putting my face into her dress. She smells like cooking and washing detergent.
‘There now, love, it wasn’t that bad last time, was it? Everyone thought you were very brave, didn’t they?’
‘A proper little soldier,’ Uncle Paul says. He rubs my cheek with a rough knuckle.
‘But … but … what if Mr Sampson …?’ I ask.
‘They’ll have him locked away now for good,’ Auntie Fay says. ‘You won’t have to worry about him, I can tell you that.’
The next morning I wake up late. I am too hot with how much sun is coming through the windows behind the curtains and it feels stuffy, like waking up inside the caravan Mum used to take us to for weekends away. So I stay in bed and try to remember as much as I can about the caravan and the fried breakfasts Mum made on the stove with all the pots and pans that were smaller than the ones at home.
‘It’s like being in a doll’s house,’ she said once. I remember the button mushrooms from a tin and how she winked at me when she put in loads of butter. ‘We’re on holiday, aren’t we?’ she said. ‘We can eat whatever we want.’
There are voices downstairs, lots of them, and I wonder why Auntie Fay didn’t wake me up like she normally does. I get out of bed and peek down the stairs but I can’t see the people from the landing. I can only hear them.
‘… couldn’t charge him with anything … just let him go …’
I hear words like ‘disgraceful’ and ‘incompetent’ and ‘useless’.
‘How can they let him go without searching the house?’ someone almost shouts. ‘That’s what I want to know. They haven’t even searched the bloody house.’
‘How can they?’ someone else says. ‘You’ve seen it. You couldn’t find anything in there. Talk about finding a needle in a haystack.’
‘If Luke had been … there’s no other way to say it; I’m going to say it … if Luke had been a normal child they’d be moving heaven and earth to find out what happened but because he was disabled …’ Everyone murmurs like they agree with the loud woman who’s talking.
I walk downstairs and when people see me in the hall they stop talking.
‘What happened?’ I ask, rubbing the sleep out of my eyes. ‘What’s going on, Auntie Fay? Uncle Paul?’ I almost don’t see them in the crowd that has taken over the kitchen and dining room.
‘Come here, sweetheart,’ Auntie Fay says, everyone parting so she can get to me. ‘We’ve just had a bit of a shock this morning, that’s all. You should go and get yourself dressed and I’ll talk to you about it when we’ve had some time to talk amongst ourselves. Is that OK?’
I stop and look at everyone. They are staring at me and I don’t know why.
‘Auntie Fay?’ I say.
‘Tell her, Fay,’ a man says. The man is really big, as big as a doorway. ‘She should know after how brave she’s been what the bloody police have done to thank her.’
‘Roy,’ Auntie Fay says in the same voice she uses when I eat chips with my fingers or pick my nose.
‘He’s right, Fay,’ the loud woman says. ‘She has a right to know.’
‘Know what?’ I ask, more scared now, more than ever, looking at everyone’s serious faces. ‘Am I in trouble?’ I say eventually.
‘Of course not, love!’ Auntie Fay says, hugging me. I feel a tiny bit better.
Everyone else says the same; their voices go all high and strange and they all say things like: ‘You’re not in trouble,’ and, ‘You have nothing to feel bad about.’
‘What’s happening?’ I ask again. This time Uncle Paul steps forward and he kneels down so he is even smaller than me.
‘Well, you know how the police arrested Mr Sampson, because you were so brave and told them the truth?’ he asks.
I nod.
‘It turns out it isn’t as simple as we all thought it was. You see, we thought that now that they knew the truth about Mr Sampson they could lock him away and keep him there, didn’t we?’
‘They did lock him up,’ I say, confused. ‘They did. We saw it on the telly.’
‘Yes, but … to keep him locked up they have to say for sure that he did it. Do you understand? Right now, sweetheart, what the police say is that they need more time to prove that he did it, so that they can lock him up forever.’
‘But he did do it …’ I say. ‘I told them. He grabbed Luke’s arm and he pulled him away from us and when we pulled Luke back he …he …’
‘I know,’ Auntie Fay says. ‘I know.’
‘You see?’ the loud woman says. ‘You see this? This is all the evidence they should need.’
Another woman starts crying.
‘Is Mr Sampson locked up?’ I ask.
‘No, sweetheart,’ Auntie Fay says. ‘Not right now. Once the police have enough evidence they’ll arrest him again and—’
‘If we’re bloody lucky!’ the big man says. ‘If they pull their fingers out and do their bloody jobs properly.’
‘Well, if the police aren’t going to do their jobs properly, we’ll have to,’ the loud woman says and everyone nods.
‘What if Mr Sampson comes back for me?’ I ask Uncle Paul. ‘He said he’d come and get me if I told anyone …’
Everyone shakes their heads and tuts and sighs and mumbles.
‘This is how the police look after witnesses,’ the big man says. ‘Look at her, she’s terrified!’
‘Wouldn’t you be?’ someone says.
‘We should all be terrified! They’ve let this … this … pervert loose after what he’s done.’
‘They don’t care,’ another woman says. ‘They don’t care about us or our kids. They don’t care!’
Everyone agrees again. I start to cry and Uncle Paul hugs me this time. I can smell cigarettes but Uncle Paul isn’t supposed to smoke any more.
‘We won’t let him hurt you,’ the big man says. ‘We need to make sure he can’t do anything else while the police are fannying about. Yes? We need to keep an eye on Sampson; we need to keep the press interested so that the police can’t put off his arrest any longer. We need to let them know we are not going to let this go!’
Everyone is agreeing, loudly and angrily. I cover my ears and Uncle Paul hugs me closer.
‘Don’t you worry love,’ the big man says, patting my shoulder. ‘We’re all on your side. We’ll protect you.’
I don’t want to go out because of Mr Sampson and so we stay in all day instead. Auntie Fay makes Ryan stay in too and he’s sulking so she tells him off. Uncle Paul has told work he can’t come in and so he says we should all play Monopoly. Normally we only play board games at Christmas but it is the middle of summer and it feels weird. Ryan says he doesn’t want to play Monopoly; he wants to go into the back garden and kick the ball around like he always does.
‘The back garden is safe,’ Ryan whines. ‘I’m not even going anywhere!’
‘Luke was in his back garden when he was taken,’ Auntie Fay says. ‘You know that. Don’t be so insensitive, Ryan. I expect more of you.’
‘Mum!’ Ryan says. ‘It’s not fair. Just because she—’
‘Don’t you dare,’ Auntie Fay says, pointing a finger. ‘We’re going to get through this as a family.’
‘She isn’t family,’ Ryan mumbles but we all hear it. I start to cry.
‘What did you just say?’ Uncle Paul says.
‘Nothing,’ Ryan lies.
‘Yes you did,’ Auntie Fay says. ‘What a spiteful thing to say. Apologise, right now. Come on.’
‘No,’ Ryan says.
‘Then you can go to your room,’ Uncle Paul says.
‘No he can’t,’ Auntie Fay interrupts. ‘No, he’s going to stay down here and play Monopoly and be a part of this family.’
&nbs
p; After everyone finishes arguing and I stop crying Uncle Paul gets the board out and sorts out all the houses and the money and the cards because since Christmas they have all got mixed up together in a big mess inside the box.
‘Right,’ Uncle Paul says when everything’s in order. ‘Pick your pieces.’
Ryan grabs the dog straight away and I cry out.
‘I want to be the dog!’ I say.
‘Give her the dog, Ryan,’ Auntie Fay says.
‘No! It isn’t fair!’ Ryan says.
‘Give it to her,’ Uncle Paul warns him. ‘You’re too old for this. Now stop being so childish.’
‘Why does she always get what she wants?’ Ryan says, holding the dog tight in his fist. ‘All of this is her fault! Everything goes wrong because of her!’
‘It’s not my fault! I didn’t do anything wrong, did I? All I did was tell the truth.’
Auntie Fay takes my side and tells Ryan to stop it or she’ll give him a good hiding.
Ryan throws the dog back into the box and flops back against the armchair, curled into a ball. ‘She’s a liar!’ he says. ‘She’s making everything up so she gets attention!’
‘Ryan!’ Uncle Paul snaps. ‘That’s enough. Go to your room.’
Ryan stomps off and Auntie Fay and Uncle Paul take care of me until I stop crying.
‘Right,’ Uncle Paul says, clapping his hands. ‘Who wants to be banker?’
The phone rings all the time and when Auntie Fay answers she stretches the cord as far as it goes so I can’t hear what she’s saying. When they watch the news they tell me I’m not allowed to watch with them because it isn’t suitable and they close the living-room door so I can’t hear.
Later, the police come to the house and make me tell them the story again. Every time Auntie Fay tries to help by reminding me of something I’ve forgotten, the police tell her off and say she has to be quiet. Auntie Fay tells them it feels like we are the ones under suspicion, not Mr Sampson, and that because they refuse to arrest Mr Sampson Uncle Paul might lose his job from staying home to look after us.