‘Harry?’ she shouted as the stair door clanged shut behind her. ‘Where are you?’ The light in the corridor fizzed and spluttered making the shadows dance.
Her heels clacked on the stone floor and she was halfway to the guardroom before Harry’s tousled head peered round the corner. ‘You’ve been sleeping,’ she accused. ‘Didn’t you hear me shout? I need you to let me out.’
‘Yes miss,’ he said, although she knew as well as he did that she could have let herself out.
‘And while you’re at it you can walk with me up the alleyway.’ Nicole hated saying it, but she could not shake this irrational fear she had that she was being watched. ‘I just want to make sure you’ve got rid of that tramp,’ she added as if this would explain her request.
‘The tramp’s long gone.’ Harry opened the heavy iron door and stood back to allow her to leave the building. Despite the sturdiness of the door it made no noise as it swung shut, apart from a soft click as the lock engaged.
A street light shone down the alley, not quite reaching the corners and alcoves. Nicole’s anxiety increased and, although Harry was at her side, she kept looking into the shadows expecting someone or something to materialize and take them both by surprise. She could have been in an alien world if it had not been for the muffled noises of pedestrians going about their business and the steady hum of the traffic drifting towards them down the deserted alley. Nicole did not feel safe, and for a moment she wondered if she had made a mistake asking Harry to walk with her. After all, what did she know about him, apart from the fact she did not like him.
Her footsteps quickened until they reached the main street. It was like entering a different world. A vibrant world. A world with people and cars and buses, and everything else that signified she was in a city centre. A world where she could be safe again. The tension seeped out of her body leaving her feeling slightly faint, and there was an ache where her muscles had slackened. ‘I won’t need you anymore,’ she said in the sharp tone of voice she reserved for people like Harry and, without looking back at him, she joined the stream of people on the pavement.
***
The shadows at the end of the wine row shifted and moved as Julie straightened from her crouching position. It had been at least three minutes since Nicole had vanished through the service door to the stairwell leading to the rear of the store. Nicole would not be returning now, so Julie felt safe enough to leave her hiding place.
She had made it a habit never to leave the store before Nicole, although she was not sure what good it did apart from giving her the satisfaction of observing the other woman’s unease as she passed through the gloom of the empty building. Her mouth twisted into a smile as she remembered Nicole’s frequent glances over her shoulder. Maybe Nicole was not wrong about her feeling of being watched, because Julie constantly watched her, making sure she always knew what the other woman was doing. She did not want to miss the chance of taking her revenge on Nicole if the opportunity arose.
Julie bent down, and lifting her coat from where it lay on the floor she slipped it onto her shoulders. If she hurried she would be able to follow Nicole to the car park and observe her reaction when she saw her beloved car. Julie shivered with anticipation as she thought of the pleasure it had given her when she had gouged it with the small penknife she kept on her keyring. It had been worth missing lunch to perform that tiny act of revenge. She could still hear the screeching noise the knife made as it bit into the shining blue paintwork of Nicole’s favourite possession. It echoed in her head, setting her nerves on edge, making her close her eyes until a vision of the knife biting into Nicole’s flesh forced its way into her consciousness. Her eyes snapped open at the force of her vision. She shivered. Hate had taken her to depths of emotion that frightened her with their intensity. Even now she was never entirely sure if she could carry out everything she wanted to do. Nor was she sure she wanted to sink to the level of Nicole’s depravity.
Her fingers caressed the penknife in the depths of her pocket. It was like caressing Dave. ‘My dad gave it to me,’ his voice echoed in her head. ‘It’s all I have left of him.’ And now, it was all she had left of Dave.
The corridor echoed with her footsteps as she ran to the back door, almost colliding with it as it opened.
‘Sorry, Julie.’ Harry grasped her arm as she staggered backwards. ‘I didn’t know you were behind the door.’
Julie leaned on his arm, quickly regaining her balance. ‘That’s okay Harry, I should have taken more care, but I didn’t expect anyone to be coming in at this time of night.’
A fleeting smile crossed Harry’s sad features. ‘I was just seeing Mrs Ralston up the alley, seemed a bit nervous like, she did.’ He held the door open for her. ‘Would you like me to walk you up to the main road, as well?’
‘No, I’ll be fine. Who’d bother me there when a good shout would bring people running to see what was happening?’
‘You sure, Julie? It’s no trouble like?’
‘I’ll be fine, Harry.’ Julie turned and gave him a wave as she walked towards the street.
Harry watched her for a moment and then entered the building. As soon as the door closed behind him Julie started to run. She couldn’t be very far behind Nicole now.
***
A sense of unease crept over Nicole and for a moment she was hesitant to enter the gloomy area of the car park. The car bays, dark caves under the overhanging roadway, made a perfect hiding place for muggers and car thieves. Suddenly Nicole remembered she had forgotten to send someone to put up the hood of her car. The spurt of fear that her precious car might no longer be there overcame her nervousness and she ran towards her parking space.
An exiting car roared past her in a cloud of exhaust fumes and a cheeky toot of the horn. She jumped sharply to the side of the path with a muttered, ‘Cheeky bugger.’
A disturbing thought crept into her mind. He must have seen her in his headlights, but he had kept coming straight at her. She shook the thought away. No one would be foolish enough to mow a pedestrian down in an empty car park. She hurried to her sports car, which the menacing car’s headlights had illuminated as it drove past.
At least the car was still here, she thought, although her feeling of unease had not decreased. She imagined eyes watching her and glanced nervously over her shoulder, but all she could see were shadows. The sooner she got out of here the better, she thought, rummaging for the car key in her handbag.
Her key was in the door lock before she spotted the dark shape on the driver’s seat, but she was used to rubbish being dumped in her car when she forgot to close the hood, so she leaned over ready to scoop it out onto the ground. Her hand closed over the shape before she realized what it was. A shudder rippled through her body, freezing her, before an involuntary scream, shrill and despairing, erupted from her throat.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Wind soughed in one side of the glass shelter and out the other. Harry gripped the edge of his jacket, where it was missing a button, pulling it closer to his body. It had been a long day and the bus was late. A good job Babs was easy going, although she would have kept Rosie out of bed because she knew the child would not go to sleep until he had kissed her goodnight.
Rosie was Harry’s only child and she was never far from his thoughts. He closed his eyes now, picturing her. She was growing fast, but to Harry she was, and always would be, a child. He loved her with an intensity that shut out everyone else, even his wife. Harry carried the guilt of this on his shoulders, but Babs understood, and was in agreement that Rosie had to come first. As a result she gratefully accepted any little morsel of love Harry had left over.
When Rosie was born, Babs became depressed and refused to look at her. ‘I’ve failed you,’ she had said, and it had taken all Harry’s persuasive powers to convince her that, as far as he was concerned, Rosie was perfect. Babs now loved Rosie as much as Harry did, but neither of them had been able to forget her initial rejection of the child. And, as a re
sult, Babs had slipped further into depression. She accepted everything Harry did and said without argument in an effort to atone for her failure to produce a perfect child. Harry accepted her penance, although he had no complaints – Rosie was his child and would always be his child.
The bus was quiet. It was too late for the teatime rush and too early for the late night carousers to have left the pubs yet. Harry slumped into a corner of the back seat where he could close his eyes against the darkness of the night, and the darkness that was within his soul. His brow creased with the weight of his worries. What would Babs say if he lost his job? Rosie wouldn’t care. She would have her dad at home with her. She had no worries, but Harry worried for her. How would he be able to look after her? It was not as if she would ever be able to leave home, so he had to make sure her future was safe. How could he do that without a job?
Damn that Mrs Ralston. He had been all right until she took a pick at him and now she would not leave him alone. ‘Do this, Harry! Do that, Harry! You haven’t done this, Harry! You haven’t done that, Harry!’ His mouth moved silently as he mimicked her. What did she expect from him? He was doing his best, wasn’t he? Only it was not good enough for the perfect Mrs Ralston. She was one God Almighty bitch and he was at a loss to know how to manage the situation and please her. If the truth be told there was no pleasing her. Dark despair settled over Harry each time he realized his days were numbered.
‘Hello Harry, my love.’ Old Mrs Dempster from the end of his street swayed down the aisle of the bus and plonked herself into the seat beside him. ‘Saw your Rosie today. My, but she’s getting big. Soon have to watch out for the boys I reckon.’ The aroma of unwashed skin and urine wafted round Harry and he almost gagged, although that might have had as much to do with the suggestion of boys as the smell. ‘Have to watch these Mongols, you know. Sex mad they are.’
‘Rosie is Downs Syndrome, Mrs Dempster, and she’s definitely not sex mad.’ Harry’s voice was stiff with anger. He hated it when anyone referred to Rosie as a Mongol.
‘Well, whatever,’ the old woman’s eyes gleamed. ‘You’ll still have to watch her. Don’t want her bringing home any surprises now, do you?’ The malicious gleam in her eyes matched the sting of her comments.
Harry held on to his anger. It was something he had got used to doing over the years since Rosie was born, although it was getting harder as he grew older. It was like holding down a tidal wave of emotion, one that was getting increasingly difficult to manage, and the pressures surged within him in an effort to find release. But release was not an option for Harry because he was afraid of the explosive effect of lowering his flood barriers. So he did the only thing he could do, he gritted his teeth, scrunched further into the corner of his seat and tried not to listen to the droning voice of the woman who sat next to him.
He thought of Rosie, his Rosie. Rosie with her oriental features, the innocence of her expression, the way her almond shaped eyes crinkled at the corners when she smiled at him, and her chunky body that became as light as a fairy’s when she danced for him. If things had been different she could have been a ballet dancer. But Harry knew that would never be possible for Rosie because things were not different and there was always the problem of acceptance. The world was a cruel place for girls like Rosie. Harry sighed, knowing there was not much of a life for his daughter outside her family, but on the other hand he would never lose her.
The bus trundled to a stop outside the few shops that serviced the council estate and was known by the grandiose title of the Greenfield Shopping Centre. Mrs Dempster lumbered to her feet in a wave of nauseating aromas. ‘I’ll get you down the road,’ she said to Harry as she turned backwards to lower herself to the pavement.
Harry grasped the icy rail and stood for a moment until she was well clear. ‘I have to go to the shop,’ he mumbled, not wanting to walk with the old woman and her accompanying smells.
She snorted as she pulled her coat collar tighter round her neck. ‘Don’t know what you want to shop there for,’ she complained, ‘dirty, Paki bugger. I wouldn’t touch his stuff if you paid me.’ Turning away from Harry she stumped off up the road. ‘Don’t blame me if you get salmon thingie,’ she called over her shoulder. ‘Serve you right for shopping there.’
Harry stood for a moment watching her shuffle off down the road. He should have gone with her, there were dark areas where any of the local yobbos might be lurking and he would never forgive himself if she came to harm. Still, he thought, it would be a brave one who tackled old Mrs Dempster for she had been known to inflict serious damage with the handbag that hung from her arm like a leather weighted cosh. In any case she was not his responsibility, so he turned away and walked into the deserted shopping square.
The jangle of discordant music drifted through the pub door as he passed it and, because they were a rough lot, he hoped the drinkers were too busy with their pints and nips to look outside. He limped in the direction of the mini-supermarket, passing dilapidated shop fronts, boarded up windows and graffiti covered walls on his way to the only lighted windows in this barren area.
The shop, when he entered it, was not much warmer than the square outside, but the owner greeted him with his usual expansive smile. ‘You in for your usual?’ he asked. ‘Wee Rosie’s treat?’
Harry slumped against the counter. ‘That’s right, Ali.’ Everyone called the shopkeeper Ali, and Harry was no exception, although he was perfectly aware the man’s name was Vijay. It was a hangover from the time of Vijay’s arrival in Greenfield when the kids all called him Ali Baba. ‘Some humbugs for Rosie, she loves them and I wouldn’t want to disappoint her.’
Vijay still sold sweets in the old fashioned way which was why Harry preferred to buy them here. He did not trust all these pre-packaged sweets, they were not the same, didn’t have the same flavour for one thing. So now he watched as Vijay pulled a jar from the shelf and weighed the sweets on old fashioned brass scales.
‘You look tired, man.’ Vijay did not look up from his task. ‘Saw you limping when you came over the square. You okay man?’
Harry forced a smile, ‘Yeah, I’m okay. Just have this bloody corn on my toe, can’t get it to go away.’
‘You try corn plasters man. I give you good ones, better than the chemist.’
‘Yeah, okay, anything’s worth a try.’ Harry paid for his purchases and smiled again at the shopkeeper. ‘See you later, Ali,’ he said as he limped out of the shop.
The curtains twitched as he walked up the garden path and light spilled out onto the neglected garden. The house was a typical council house with two small bedrooms and a bathroom upstairs, and living room and kitchen downstairs. It wasn’t in particularly good condition, but nevertheless, Harry was proud that he lived in a house rather than a flat as most council tenants did. He fumbled for his key, but the door opened before he got there.
‘You’ll get the cold, Rosie,’ he protested as he pushed her inside, ‘and anyway you shouldn’t come to the door in your pyjamas when you don’t know who’ll be there.’
‘But I saw you coming,’ she told him. Harry was thankful that Rosie’s speech was good and not like some of them at the Day Centre.
‘I might have had somebody with me.’
‘But you didn’t and I’ve been waiting for you for such an ever so long time.’
‘Yes I know, love.’ He pushed her into the living room as he kicked the outside door shut. ‘What you thinking about, Babs? Letting her come to the door like that.’
‘When could I ever stop her from doing what she wanted?’ Babs’ voice was soft and gentle. He had never heard her raise it in anger and he often wondered if she was capable of anger. She was so accepting of everything that happened. She held out her arms to her daughter, ‘Come on Rosie, your daddy’s here now so we can get you to bed.’
‘Wait, wait,’ Rosie squealed. ‘I need to show him my new dance step.’ She pirouetted around the living room in her pyjamas which made her stocky body look even more ung
ainly. However, she was light on her feet and there was a grace in her movements.
Harry applauded. ‘Excellent,’ he said. ‘That calls for a wee treat,’ and he handed her the sweets.
‘You’re the best daddy in all the world,’ Rosie said as she grabbed the paper bag.
‘Off to bed now,’ Babs told the excited girl. ‘Daddy’ll come up once I’ve tucked you in.’
Familiar tears pricked at the back of Harry’s eyes and a lump gathered in his throat as he watched them leave the room. He was afraid for them. Afraid of what the future might bring. He had a sudden vision of the tramp who sat in the alley and wondered if it might come to that. His shoulders slumped as the desperate reality of his position hit him, his lack of power and his inability to get his problems sorted out.
Babs shouted from upstairs, ‘She’s bedded and looking for her goodnight kiss.’
‘I’m coming,’ Harry said, forcing a smile to his face.
He hugged and kissed his daughter with a desperation that made her eyes widen. ‘Go to sleep now, Rosie,’ he said, ‘and I’ll see you in the morning before I go to work.’
‘Yes, daddy,’ she said as she snuggled further under the covers and closed her beautiful almond shaped eyes.
Harry blinked away the tears that had been threatening to overwhelm him all day. How could he face Babs tonight when he was so upset about the possibility of losing his job? Babs, who had never harmed anyone and was always so gentle and understanding. There was enough worry and sadness in his wife’s life already. How could he add to it? Harry forgot his corn as he stumbled down the stairs and opened the front door.
Babs followed him out. ‘I’ve got dinner in the oven for you?’ she called to his retreating back.
Night Watcher Page 11