Fiona

by D Attrill

  Back at Fiona’s, Becky had felt an immense vibration of nerves. She watched the remaining five minutes tick down, right to the time her friend was due back in. She had covered everything on the list during her hour alone. Izzy had of course cried the place down, prompting a refill from the milk supplies. On finding this had also failed to appease him, she amended things with a couple of spoons from the Chicken/ham Harricotts jar Fiona had shown her.

  Once the cries finally turned to giggles, she clapped to herself. Though she found herself acting as though it was a girl’s first babysitting stint, it still felt significant for her, with having had to reacquaint again after so long.

  There was still time for one or two tinier jobs. She grabbed a serviette to clean up the few bits that had missed his mouth and landed elsewhere on the high chair.

  Having sorted that out, she looked out of the window to ensure Fiona was not back a few minutes early, then grabbed a further serviette and cleaned Izzy’s bottle round the bottom.

  “Phewf... done it.”

  It was as if an atomic bomb had just been diffused.

  Becky looked at the time ... two minutes left to kill. Alternating rapidly between window and watch, she supped her coffee with self-inflicted calmness as another minute and a half went. She peered cautiously around the blind, once the remaining thirty had elapsed.

  No Fiona.

  Becky sighed like a mountaineer reaching the top of Everest.

  Just at that second, Izzy started wailing again.

  “God, what’s he after now?”

  She returned to the tiny shape in the seat. As she got closer, an incriminating smell said it all - one that was neither milk nor wayward Harricotts.

  “Aww...no ...”

  Becky lifted him out, the stench almost gassing her.

  “Come on fella, let’s get you cleaned.” She made for the bathroom with her little bundle.

  Flinging the toilet lid up, Becky hurriedly placed the child seat in position. She wrapped the nappy up tight, and then binned it sharpish before hunting for those spares. She remembered the white plastic pack on the window. Working a fresh one loose, Becky lifted Izzy up carefully by the arms. She washed him thoroughly and slid the new layer on, then prepared to take him back down.

  Just that very second, the door below opened.

  “Hiyeee!” came Fiona’s chirp from beneath. “Having fun up there, you two?”

  “Was.” Becky tried to play it cool about her predicament. “I’m glad you showed me those spare nappies, that’s all.”

  “Heh, heh, did he dee a whipsie?”

  Fiona came up to look.

  “The dirty wee devil, eh?”

  She took her child from Becky’s hold and checked.

  “Crivvies, you put her on right enough. That’s brillie that is. So what else you guys been up to?”

  “Few things. You know.”

  “Oh aye?” Fiona was fishing in the fridge. “Like?”

  “Well there’s one.”

  Becky felt suddenly uncomfortable as Fiona looked back up, beckoning an answer. She could only wonder what her new employer wished mostly to hear. She puckered up the spit to reply, hoping Fiona would remain happy with her duties.

  (iii)

  At the station, Armitage was standing nervously around the middle of reception. He probably felt his latest calamity behind the wheel had cost him the world. However, with his help bringing the near-unstoppable Gary Payden to rights, Garstone had a genuine compliment on hand.

  “Don’t keep on sulking, man.” he invited Armitage to sit. “For what it’s worth, that’s twice you’ve stuck your bonnet in bang on time.”

  “At least you haven’t had a kid’s push bike to pick up...” Armitage moaned.

  “Aye, just half a park, plus some poor guy’s quad bike...”

  Garstone silenced it as he listened: he could hear Gary Payden screaming every expletive under the sun, several doors along. It was probably aimed at station officer PC Raymond, the one normally trusted with tending to medical needs.

  “By heck, he sounds happy.” Armitage was looking towards the office doors.

  “Shouldn’t worry. He won’t try running while his ankle’s practically back to front.”

  “You don’t suppose he’s signed up for the one-legged event?”

  They both heard a door being rammed wide open. Gary Payden had burst out of the medical room, and was speedily hobbling up the corridor on his one good ankle. As Armitage negligently opened the doors in front of him, Payden fell face-first through the gap. Both DCs swooped to aid him back up.

  The youth just staggered upright by himself, then made away again; but only until the slippery access ramp brought him down.

  A pair of violet trouser legs stood in front of him as he lay groaning.

  “Going somewhere, Usain Bolt?” Leyton was laughing as she leaned down to help him.

  Half an hour later, one could be mistaken for thinking that Gary Payden had an identical twin. The newly subdued youngster sat quietly as a monk in suite A217, maintaining an unflinching posture opposite Garstone.

  Armitage and PC Thompson took seats either side so as to make sure it stayed that way.

  “Good bit of running today, champ.” Garstone began, resting hands on the table. “Shame DC Armitage and I are a bit nifty with the ol’ motor, eh?”

  Payden shrugged but remained mute.

  “That’s supposed to mean ‘It was a fair cop’, was it?”

  This sort of silence was meant to ensure officers a slow ride. He remembered another youth ten days back who also spoke only to ask when his lawyer was due.

  Whilst rolling up his sleeves, Garstone registered a painting on the wall opposite- a merry, bright red rose bed, stretching across summer parkland.

  . He tried not to let himself be reminded of the carnage he’d caused this lunchtime; at least not until Leyton ended up hearing things.

  He saw Gary Payden glaring up at him, beneath his grim, blackened eyebrows. The boy swiftly ducked his face again. Eye contact with a cop was still proving uncomfortable for him.

  “So, want to tell us about your driving then?” he began asking. “That was a sound bit of sprinting today, although I’m not quite sure that poor Mr Quidgley and his three-thousand-quid quad would agree, heh heh heh.”

  Garstone pulled out a seat and got his face level with Gary’s.

  “I wouldn’t want to be nasty, like, but what you’ve landed yourself into here’s hardly going to look mint, with a day in court already ahead.”

  Gary Payden was now staring at him blankly, obviously not getting Garstone’s story.

  The door then opened slowly.

  “Here’s a turn-up for the books.” Leyton exclaimed as she strode in. “Only minutes ago, our distinguished guest was screaming the place down. You certainly possess the gift of hypnotism, Greg.”

  “I think I’ve driven him too far the other way.” Garstone said, worriedly.

  He asked Armitage to excuse them, then ushered Leyton out into the corridor, aiming to interpret the situation. He felt it safe to leave the door slightly open.

  “Oh, that quiet?” Leyton remarked “Defiant silence doesn’t last all day, Greg, don’t worry. He’s probably in shock, bless him.”

  “I caught a little eye contact, when I came to covering the damage he’d done. Unfortunately, I’m afraid we’ve not got round to all yesterday’s mayhem.” Garstone knew how topsy-turvy this might sound.

  “You did right not to.” Leyton looked very relieved. “What have we got yet, that does touch end to end? One hub cap, that happens also to be from a Vauxhall. Why don’t we just stick with the song we're playing, but place a little more persuasion on the scales? Less of the underhand tactic; compassionate-but-concise works, seventy-eight percent of the time.”

  “Shouldn’t we just contact his existing brief?”

  “NO.” came a voice from inside the room, overhearing. “No, not them, please.”

  “W
ould you prefer another one then?” Garstone returned inside, to the now-speaking youth.

  “No, please.” Gary Payden was pleading, hysterical “Don’t bring us no brief. They’ll find out.”

  “Who? Your parents? So hating to say it mate but it might be too late for that.”

  “Hey up, you two,” Armitage interrupted “He’s on a fresh charge here.”

  “Breach of bail, Leroy.” Leyton calculated out loud. “It still adds up badly on the day, I’m afraid.”

  She had turned back to look on Gary. The boy’s face spelt more worry by the minute. “So, listen love - I wouldn’t be in a hurry to tell my mum and dad that I’d had another brush with the law whilst on bail. Unfortunately it will be tricky to conceal if they find a fresh CPS letter landing through the door.”

  “Tha don’t fuckin’ understand, does you?” Gary was fretting again. “It in’t to do with that.”

  Steaming with agitation, he leapt up from his seat, only for Armitage and Thompson to pull him back down. “It’s us brother. He’s got beef over me talking to police.”

  “Got beef?” Leyton looked unfamiliar with his vocabulary.

  “Aye, sorry about that, Gaz.” Garstone explained. “The Acting Superintendent’s only lived in the mysterious north, a few months like.”

  Leyton slowly appeared to understand. She’d been busier running down the tally of Tom Payden’s past dealings. Garstone took the list to look. Gary’s older sibling had seemingly turned out even less of an angel. Larger blots against his book included theft, aggravated vehicle taking and affray; he happened to be out on license from HMP Doncaster as they spoke.

  “Gaz, tell me.” Garstone sat back against his chair. “Will your dad also have ‘beef’ with our little chat, do you think?”

  “Nah, me Dad just thinks I’m a dick.”

  “Going back to your brother again - does he still live at the family home?”

  “Supposed to.”

  “I’m not meaning to be angry mate, but do you know it’s actually an offence not to provide details of an address, whilst on parole?”

  “There’s this other place he’s got, out Barnsley way. Been crashin’ there all the time, since he coming out. Didn’t say to us where. He probably don’t want no one visiting.”

  “Does he still return to Sheffield, for any reason other than that?”

  “Only for seeing his new lass - Scottish bird, he said he’s met.” Gary sounded calmed at this phase of the discussion. “Told you, I hardly seen owt of him, since he’s been out of t’slammer. Only speaks to me, if it’s on phone.”

  “Wouldn’t you count that as a blessing.” asked Leyton. She also seemed to be painting pictures of an unwanted sibling.

  Gary looked aware that his dilemma had drilled in with the officers. He had transformed back from terrified teenager to typical carefree adolescent, sitting upright on two chair legs.

  Leyton reciprocated by terminating her pencil-twiddling trick; something she often used to unsettle an uncooperative crook. Sliding her stationery away, she still looked to have left her questions on the table.

  “What make you certain he thinks this of you?”

  “If you let me have us phone back I’ll show you summat.”

  Garstone got a nod from his leader. Passing it to Gary, he watched as he pushed at numbers. He smiled at the kid, encouraging him to take his time. Before he knew it, Garstone had the device back in his hand.

  “Second one down, I think.” Gary was directing him.

  Garstone pressed the thumbnail saying ‘Bro (18/8 19:38)’ and read.

  “‘Dad has lent me 4 the car. 1 word 2 pigs N U’ll B paid a visit.’ That doesn’t sound too friendly, Gaz, eh?” Garstone commented.

  “What happened, darling?” Leyton sat at Gary’s side, smiling.

  “Someone did the car over.” the teenager eventually answered him. “It were right the day after he got let out.”

  “And your brother neither reported it... nor allowed you to?” Leyton shook her head. “Sorry, I should have realised.”

  “Do you now get why I were trying to avoid you right bad?” Gary asked. He was looking directly at her.

  “To that extent...hmm?” She had to scratch her chin there.

  “I were just scared when I saw yer mate there, coming straight from his car.”

  “I’ve got to own up to alarming him a bit.” Garstone confessed. “I did park right across the guy’s gate.”

  “You were probably excited on seeing a white Vauxhall Corsa marking the spot,” Leyton whispered.

  “Aye, that's one more thing.” Garstone had nearly missed a topic. “Gaz, is the Corsa yours or your brother’s, captain?”

  “His, yeah.”

  “OK, cool, except what's it doing in your drive, while he’s buried himself in Barnsley?”

  “He’d went out Wombwell last night… were boozing an’ that. Dad’s supposed to pick him up in the van today, sometime.”

  “Ah....so would your dad know of Tom’s mysterious address?”

  “Probably not. Tommy don’t tell it no one.”

  “Do you know at all, whereabouts in Barnsley he lives?”

  “Stairfoot, I think. It’s where that big hill is, up behind an old train track.”

  “Great. That’s a start.” Leyton’s eyes squinted.

  An SMS tone stopped them both.

  “Excuse me a second.” she disappeared outside, slamming the door.

  Garstone held off questioning; he felt more like questioning what his Acting Detective Superintendent was playing at, taking a personal call during an interrogation?

  Seeing her re-enter with a reluctant smile, seconds later he could only trust it was worth it.

  “Take it that was you-know-who again.” he paused the recording.

  “Yes Greg, and I’m going to call her back when I feel like it,” she sighed. “At least she texted this time instead.”

  “Well we’re nearly ready to call it a day with ol’ laser-legs here.”

  “That mean I can go?” Gary Payden was trying to push up from his perch.

  “Just hold on.” Leyton signalled him back down. “Interview terminated at 2:58. pm.” she ended the recording “This is still on slightly shaky ground, Gary, even if you did eventually cooperate.”

  “Does that mean I’m out of it, or what?” Gary quibbled.

  “About seventy-two percent.” Garstone made it accurate. It probably sounded more lenient than Leyton would expect. “Given the duress you’re under, we’ll overlook this morning, ok mate. Just asking that you keep your side of the bargain; that means you bringing up the exact address your brother’s in hiding at. Tried approaching anyone else in your family? I don’t want you getting worried; just it might be more than a hit-and-run incident we’re hunting him for.” Garstone hadn’t quite phrased it the way he wanted to.

  He waited, and promptly got a visible nod from the lad.

  “Right, ok then, on your marks... get set.”

  “Don’t take that literally, Gary,” Leyton warned, laughing. “Especially from police.”

  She made off again to deal with the text, while the three other cops helped Payden to the door. As Garstone was handing Gary his coat, he heard a sudden “Whoopee” outside.

  (iv)

  Becky had been muted by her own excitement.

  Fiona was more than fully satisfied she’d passed her trial, and decided to show it by putting her and Izzy together for her first paid session

  Ignoring the car parps outside, Fiona obviously put even her boyfriend second, until she was happy everything would be comfortable for her.

  “Right, you all set then?” she asked, taking her key.

  “You get yourself off and enjoy the night.” Becky found it difficult as always to answer with a straightforward yes. “Leave everything in my hands.”

  “Super. Right, I shid be back before the wee hours. There's still another bed spare upstairs, if you start becoming a little dozy.”
/>
  A knock on the door rushed Fiona away from the rest of the conversation. As it closed behind her, Becky could hear a couple of faint voices outside. The other, a male one, was mostly louder.

  As she listened to a car motor fading away, Becky found it curious that Fiona hadn’t taken the time to introduce them, yet she'd still allowed twice as long, getting all Izzy's requirements down.

  No need to worry. Becky remembered many others like that, her brother's last girlfriend, 'Miserable Morwenna' being especially amongst the far worst offenders. Oh the times she'd been round to their flat for the evening; in addition to hardly ever offering anyone a drink, Morwenna also spent the evening spread legged on the rug, guarding her partner who sat behind, in a tyrannical 'He's mine' kind of way. Fiona was pleasant enough in contrast, but still seemed secretive.

  Hers was strictly not to reason why; Fiona was doing it for her benefit, after all.

  She picked up the ‘mission’ sheet and studied what need to be undertaken between now and 11pm. Everything was timetabled just as before: Fiona McGrogan was clearly no idiot to organisation.

  ‘4: 00 milk/rusk - pack half open...4:30 check nappy, change if need....5:00 wash bottle if empty, swap w/clean....’

  Becky left the three other entries for later, whilst concentrating on these. Carefully emptying the middle shelf, she pulled out a small cardboard packet. She tipped it on end. The rusk slid out immediately, but landed on the floor.

  “Aw, no!” she whined, clearing it up into the pedal bin.

  Becky was naturally paranoid if set the slightest bit behind with any task. Looking in the carton there was a single rusk left.

  Seeing the other broken in two clean halves gave her a get-out - she’d break the new one up just the same, giving Izzy one half now, the other later.

  It would lend Fiona the impression that he’d tried both snacks, which would therefore justify an empty box on the worktop. Becky took a knife from the drawer and cut the rusk, giving half to him on his plate. Switching it for his bottle, she half-filled it and reunited it with Izzy, just in time... he had started crying.

  “Here you go little fellow...milky-poo-poos,” she whispered wistfully, holding the bottle between her fingers. Izzy instantly stopped, lifting the bottle up to his mouth.