Felburgh

by Ivan B

  She suddenly looked directly at Peter.

  “Just like you said just now, standing beside in the hard times.”

  “After I had Ernest they offered me a place in a home for young mum’s and tried to help me put my life together. I often wonder what would have happened to me if I’d stayed there, but they had rules and regulations. Looking back they were not particularly onerous, you know: no drugs, no drink, in by eleven at night, but I found them burdensome at the time and walked away from them; goodness knows what possessed me; they kept me warm, fed me, loved me and supported me; but I walked away. You said we all make mistakes when we are young, I guess some mistakes are more incomprehensible than others. Getting pregnant was a mistake; leaving that home was a total and utter foul up. As Sam told you, I ended up in a church crypt with a bunch of dossers. By then I’d refused help from the Church Army, some Methodist group or other, and the Catholic Church. I suppose I had taken my father’s words to heart; he said I was the scum of the earth so I lived like the scum of the earth.”

  She paused for a moment as if choosing her words.

  “If you live with the dregs of society as a young girl there is only one way to stay safe and that is to have a man look out for you. I soon found out that there was a quick and easy way of getting a man, you slept with them. In some ways I was living out my dad’s statement; only scum would live like that. Then I met Sam one night in the dosser’s crypt and things began to change. For one thing he started looking out for me without the necessity of sleeping with me. I think when we first met he was so depressed he didn’t have the energy anyway. Then, just when I was beginning to trust him I saw him steal my money. It was Earnest’s food money, but I didn’t cry out, I was too devastated. I watched him cross the crypt and hesitate at the door, I now know why, and he came back and replaced the

  money.”

  She left the bookcase and started tidying the knick-knacks on the mantelpiece.

  “I think you know most of the rest. To tell the truth I have no idea why I stayed with Sam. I didn’t love him and I wasn’t sure that I really trusted him. We sort of had a relationship of mutual need. I needed to know that I wasn’t scum and he needed someone to tell him he wasn’t a total failure. As we moved from squat to squat our dependency on each other decreased and my ability to love grew. By the time we moved up here I knew I loved Sam, but I guess I wanted to be certain that he loved me. The birth of Samantha proved that to me.”

  She moved over to sort out the magazine rack again.

  “Sam’s parents were wonderful; they accepted both of us with open arms. I’m glad they managed to see Little Sam before they died.”

  She got up and came back to the dinner table.

  “And now life has come full circle and it’s Samantha who’s pregnant.”

  She fell silent.

  “When did she tell you?” Peter asked gently.

  “She hasn’t yet. But she looked furtive one day last week when I dropped her at school and she rushed over to a litter bin and buried something in it when she thought I was out of sight. When she’d gone I retrieved it; it was a pregnancy test and it was positive.”

  “It might not be hers.”

  Wendy looked at Peter as if he were totally naïve.

  “And the books on pre-natal care she’s carrying around in her back-pack? I checked her library ticket; she’s got three books out, one on the French Revolution and two on pre-natal care.”

  “You’ve got to talk to Sam, and you’ve got to talk to Samantha.” Replied Peter. “Remember what it was like for you? How long did it take you to talk to your parents?”

  “Two weeks. Two weeks of listening to every conversation and wondering if I could bring the subject round to babies.” She paused, “Your right, I don’t want her to go through that.”

  Just then the front door open and Wendy shot a worried glance at Peter.

  “Don’t worry, not a word,” he said.

  After some polite conversation with Samantha, Peter left to go home. Once home he played back his ansaphone: only one message; could he phone the police station and talk to the duty sergeant. Peter dialed the number and was duly put through. The sergeant must have been brought up somewhere between Cardiff and Llanelli because he had a thick Welsh accent.

  “We thought you’d like to know that Fred has been shipped off to Bristol, he’s jumped bail there and is due to face armed robbery charges. Local boys there say they’ve got him cold, CCTV and all that. The chappie your dog bit is called Bill Rodd. He’s wanted in Newcastle for credit card fraud and handling stolen goods; he’ll be on his way tomorrow and most likely will not get his £200 before he’s in jail.”

  “Thanks for letting me know. Are you going to press charges from this morning?”

  There was a pause.

  “No. Sorry and all that, but we don’t think it is worth our while. Both of them have bigger charges to face and frankly we could do without the paperwork.” Then he added quickly, “but of course if… ”

  Peter cut him short.

  “No, that’s OK. I just don’t want them to come back.” He paused. “What about the other guy, the one in the car?”

  “Now he’s really interesting. He won’t say a word and the others won’t even admit they know him. But if our computer system is right we think he’s wanted on a host of drug charges by the Serious Crime Squad. They’re sending one of their guys to look him over. All in all it was a good day’s work.”

  Peter thanked him for letting him know and put the phone down. If the truth was known he was relieved, he hadn’t fancied answering questions in court about the money. The Phone rang again almost immediately; this time it was Wendy. After some swift preliminaries she said.

  “While Sam was putting Little Sam to bed I asked Samantha if she wanted to tell me anything.”

  “And?”

  “And it’s not her, you were right, it’s a young girl two years below. They are in the photography club together and Samantha has been helping her.”

  “Do her parents know?”

  “Apparently, and most of the rest of the school, but not me!”

  “Relieved?” asked Peter.

  “You don’t know how much. You could also call it a learning exercise.”

  Peter heard some noise in the background, and Wendy continued.

  “Thanks for listening to me. Samantha’s gone next door to baby-sit, when Sam comes down I’m going to share this evening with him.”

  “Including your unfounded suspicions about Samantha?”

  “Especially that.”

  Peter put the phone down after about another minute and looked at his watch. He had intended to drop in on Charmian and see how she was getting on moving in to the flat, but it was too late now. In any case Bronwyn and Taffy had said they would help her so he knew she’d cope. He had offered her time off to get sorted, but she’d said she’d had enough time off and would be back at work tomorrow. Peter again smiled ruefully. For two days in a row he had not kept to his routine and had been occupied morning, afternoon and night. He hoped that this would not continue.

  The following morning Peter jerked awake at 5:30am. It was one of those swift transitions from deep sleep to total vigilance that is a throw back from our caveman heritage. Peter lay there awake, heart pounding and with all his senses on complete alert. He could not figure out what had woke him up; the house seemed silent. He got up and crept out onto the landing. As usual Aquinas was asleep in the middle of the hall floor. Well not completely asleep for as Peter crept onto the landing there was the steady slow thump of his tail on the hall floor. If Aquinas wasn’t leaping about Peter felt there was probably nothing to worry about and went back to bed. As he lay down something aural disturbed him. He listened, and at the limit of his hearing could hear Sarah crying. He smiled, Kimberley was very good and Sarah rarely cried at night for any length of time. But Sarah did not stop crying, in fact to Peter she sounded in great distress. Peter put his head out of the windo
w to hear better; Sarah was bawling her head off. Peter felt disturbed and decided to wait five minutes before he did anything, but two minutes later he could endure it no more. He pulled on a pair of trousers and a jumper and made his way to the studio flat, grabbing his mobile phone instinctively as he passed its charger. Once at the flat door Peter could clearly hear Sarah, she was crying and sobbing at the same time. Peter hammered on the door, and shouted, but he got no response. This put Peter in a quandary: he did have a key to the flat, but should he use it? Sarah’s crying made up his mind; he put the key in the lock and entered. Kimberley was lying on the floor wearing an old tee shirt and not moving. At first Peter thought she was dead, but then noticed that she was breathing. He touched her gently, and then shook her, but she was out cold. By the look of it she had fallen over and banged her head on the way down; there was a terrible red mark above her left eye. Peter simultaneously phoned for an ambulance and picked up Sarah. Sarah was screaming so loud that he had to shout in his mobile to make him understood. Peter then judged that Sarah needed feeding, but he had absolutely no idea how to go about preparing her milk, so he phoned Charmian. When she answered the phone she was obviously coming out of a deep sleep.

  “Lo,” she said. “Charmian Parker.”

  “Charmian, it’s me, Peter, I need your help.”

  “Peter? Peter? It’s only six in the morning!”

  “Kimberley has knocked herself out and I have an ambulance coming, but Sarah needs feeding.”

  “So what’s the problem?”

  “I don’t know how to do it.”

  Charmian made some sort of scoffing noise.

  “Men. I sometimes wonder why God ever bothered to create them. Be there in twenty minutes.”

  “Please make it five.”

  In fact she turned up before ten minutes was up, and beat the ambulance. By the time she arrived Peter had put Kimberley into the prone position and covered her with a duvet. She was still lifeless. Once Charmian had Sarah, Peter thought about phoning Damian, but he could not recollect his phone number. He then had an inspiration and picked up Kimberley’s mobile phone; sure enough Damian’s phone number was the first in the directory. The phone rang for some time, and then Damian said, somewhat sleepily.

  “Hello sexy, can’t leave me alone, heh?”

  “Hello Damian,” said Peter smiling to himself despite the situation, “its Peter here.”

  “Peter? But you’re on Kimberley’s phone number.”

  “You’d better get down here quick; Kimberley’s fallen over and knocked herself out. An ambulance is on the way.”

  “Is that Sarah crying?”

  “Yes, but that is in hand.”

  The phone went dead. Two minutes later Sarah stopped crying and the ambulance arrived. The paramedics took one look at Kimberley and scooped her straight onto a stretcher. As they were loading her into the ambulance, Damian arrived just in time for Peter to shove him in the back with Kimberley. He then returned to the flat; Charmian was sitting on Kimberley’s bed feeding Sarah.

  “Is she all right?” he asked.

  “Fine,” she said. “Just hungry and frightened. What happened?”

  “Don’t know. I was woken by Sarah’s screams. Kimberley was out cold when I arrived.”

  Charmian said softly, “I hope she’s all right, head injuries can be funny things.”

  They sat quietly for a while until Sarah was asleep. Charmian put her in her cot and gently closed the nursery door. “Now what?” She asked.

  Peter replied, “I guess we phone Kimberley’s mum. We can’t look after Sarah.”

  Charmian shook her head. “They’re abroad. I talked to them at the post-baptism party, they’re having a fortnight in the south of Spain, one of those last minute cheap deals. They were very excited about it.”

  Pate and Charmian looked at each other and said almost simultaneously.

  “Bronwyn!”

  Again Peter did not know her phone number, but Charmian had programmed the number into her mobile so she gave Bronwyn a ring. She opened with, “Hi Bronwyn, lovely morning. Charmian here.”

  Peter could not hear the reply, but Charmian said, “Now what makes you think I want something just because it’s early in the morning?”

  Another pause as Bronwyn replied and Charmian said, “Kimberley’s in trouble. We think she fell over in the night and knocked herself out. Yes, baby Sarah’s OK, but we need someone to look after her. Fancy fulfilling some of your God-parent duties?”

  Charmian then turned the phone off and grinned at Peter, “She’s on her way.”

  Peter gave Charmian his keys.

  “Sorry for the early call. Help yourself to some breakfast. I’ll nip down to the hospital. I should be back by eleven in time to take you to St Chadd’s. If you get time please take Aquinas for a turn round the block, or ask Jo, Aquinas is quite happy with her.”

  Peter drove to the hospital and went to the Accident and Emergency department. He inquired about Kimberley and the receptionist asked if he was a relative.

  “I’m her Father,” He replied.

  “Oh, if you’re her father that’s OK. She’s in the far cubicle on the right hand side.”

  Peter found Damian in the cubicle and Kimberley lying in the bed, groggy, confused and only semi-conscious.

  “How’s things?” asked Peter.

  Damian glanced at her.

  “They’re keeping her in for observation. She started to come round in the ambulance. They’ve X-rayed her skull and it’s not broken, but the doctor reckons that she must have had a hell of a thump on the head. She’s not making any sense at the moment.”

  Kimberley was muttering something like, ‘Oh shit my head, oh shit my head.’

  Damian looked at Peter, his eyes full of worry

  “She will be all right won’t she Peter? I should never have let them live alone.”

  Peter put his hand on Damian’s shoulder.

  “She’s in good hands and it was her choice to live alone with Sarah.”

  Peter sat with then for about half an hour. Kimberley had still not regained total consciousness by the time he left.

  Charmian waited for Bronwyn who arrived about an hour after the phone call. The time before she arrived had been interesting for Charmian. Over the past few years she had been concentrating on her studies and her relationship with Angus, children had not figured in the equation. But as she sat in the little flat, with Sarah sleeping next door she began to wonder when and if she would end up sitting next to her own child. Bronwyn’s arrival allowed her to push such thoughts to the back of her mind and concentrate on the day. Bronwyn was marvelous; she arrived with a small overnight bag and a carrier bag full of baby food.

  “Won’t take her back to the pub to sleep,” she said, “far too much noise for her there. Mark you, if I don’t take her back and show her to Taffy I’ll get an earful; you’d really think that he was the grandfather, not the god-grandfather, once removed.”

  Charmian laughed.

  “Thanks for your help yesterday. I didn’t reckon on the flat being in such a state when I took it over; it looked so clean when I saw round it.”

  The chatted for a while and as soon as Sarah stirred Bronwyn whisked her away. Charmian decided to take Peter at his word and let herself in his kitchen to search for food. As she was still searching through the cupboards Jo arrived. She was more than a little disconcerted to find Charmian poking about in the kitchen. Charmian quickly explained the morning emergency to Jo, before frowning.

  “But I thought you worked Tuesdays and Thursdays?”

  “I do, but yesterday was a write off and Peter wanted the lounge cleaned for the special council meeting; apparently he’s holding it here instead of in the church.”

  Charmian stopped hunting through the cupboards.

  “Is that it? A box of Corn-flakes, some milk, a few slices of bread and some marmalade?”

  Jo laughed.

  “That’s about it. Peter ne
ver seems to stock more than the bare essentials.”

  “No butter?”

  “Not that I’ve ever seen.”

  Charmian poured herself a bowl of Corn flakes.

  “Good grief. What does he eat?”

  Jo opened the freezer door; as usual the freezer was nearly full with one-person meals and some components for the occasional stir-fry.

  “He gets through five microwave meals a week, don’t forget I empty the kitchen bin, and I think one stir fry a month.”

  Charmian stopped shoveling food into her mouth.

  “Jolly lonely existence.”

  Jo hesitated.

  “I don’t think he’s lonely as such, but I do think he is alone.”

  Charmian wasn’t in the mood for philosophy.

  “Why was yesterday a write of?”

  Jo explained about the thugs and how Aquinas had changed the situation.

  “Doesn’t seem dull around here,” remarked Charmian.

  Jo replied, as Charmian put the crockery in the dishwasher.

  “Not since Peter’s been here; he seems to attract activity.”

  Charmian waved at Aquinas who had been watching her every move.

  “Peter wondered if one of us could walk him, he’s gone to the hospital.”

  Jo smiled inwardly, what Charmian meant was ‘would you please walk the dog’; if she had asked directly she would probably have obliged, and in any case Jo actually enjoyed walking Aquinas, but an oblique command just would not do.

  “Toss you for the privilege,”

  “I really should go home and change,” said Charmian, “I haven’t got that much time until Peter returns.”