Faceless

by Martina Cole

  She had even been the cause of her daughter’s problems. If she had not brought Patrick Connor into Tiffany’s life she might have had a chance. Her daughter might be working in Woolworth’s or as a secretary now. Be normal.

  Yes, Marie was bad. She stank of badness and she attracted bad people. Always had done, always would do. Evil had taken root in her heart and it had grown until now she had nothing else to offer anyone, least of all herself.

  Her last thought before the drugs sent her to sleep was of her mother and the pain she must be in.

  Susan Tranter had heard the news and when her doorbell rang had half been expecting it. Now Kevin was in her lounge and looking like a man demented. His opening words had thrown her and she was unsure what exactly he wanted from her.

  ‘I’ve left her, Sue. It’s finally over.’

  Susan pushed her heavy blonde hair back from her face.

  ‘What do you mean, you’ve left her?’

  ‘What I said.’

  ‘But she needs you now, Kev.’

  The censure in her voice made him wince.

  ‘That’s too bad. I was tortured by her over the years. I turned me back on me daughter and me grandchildren because of Lou and her big mouth. I should have done it years ago. Now Lucy is giving me grief and, quite frankly, I ain’t putting up with it any more. I know who was responsible and I will take action on that. But as far as Lou is concerned . . .’

  He couldn’t finish his sentence. Instead he sat on the edge of her settee, his hands dangling down before him, looking like an errant schoolboy.

  ‘You don’t half pick your time, don’t you?’

  He shrugged.

  ‘I was dying inside and I knew it. Marie coming home made me realise how bad things had got. I pussy-footed round Lou, always had done. It made life so much easier. But seeing my daughter coping with all that happened to her without a letter, a card, or anything from me or her sister, made me see them all for what they were. Especially Lou. Since Marshall killed himself she’s changed, got worse. She blamed me for all of it. Said I was the cause of Marie’s problems because I stuck up for her all the time. She wanted nothing from me except money and respectability. Her idea of sexual contact was if I accidentally brushed against her in bed. We had nothing to keep us close any more.’

  He wiped a hand across his face as if washing it.

  ‘The truth is, Sue, I feel nothing for her except pity, and that ain’t enough to keep us together. Maybe if I hadn’t met you I might have carried on living in my shell of a marriage, I don’t know. But I can’t take care of her, I can’t. I just don’t want to. I couldn’t bear to talk to her again, let alone touch her.’

  He looked at her with anguished eyes, pleading for understanding.

  ‘When I was told she might die I felt nothing but relief. I know that’s a terrible thing to say but it’s true. I realised then that I wanted to get as far away from her as possible. Then Lucy . . . her words, her bitterness, were her mother all over again. I knew I would have to deal with two of them, both full of hatred and jealousy of poor Marie whose only real crime was to take as much shit as possible so as to forget that her mother hated her and her own father wasn’t strong enough to protect her.’

  Susan listened in fascination as he unburdened himself to her. It was a revelation all right. He was low but he was in his right mind, he meant what he was saying. This wasn’t just anger talking. This was from the heart.

  She loved this man with a passion so strong it made her dizzy just to look at him. He might not be every woman’s dream lover but he certainly rang her bells. Always had done. Now she knew that if she wanted, she could have him full-time and the prospect was making her feel hot with longing. But it was at the expense of a woman at her lowest ebb. Who was hurt, in pain, and probably wondering who it was that her husband was going to run to. Because Louise Carter was shrewd enough to know that he was going to someone. He wouldn’t have the strength to do anything like this on his own. He would need a rock, a support. Perhaps she thought it would be his daughter? That he would go to Marie.

  Whatever, Sue knew she was going to take what he was offering and damn the consequences. It would be a nine-days wonder locally but she didn’t care about that. If it meant having Kevin she would walk over hot coals and cook for the devil himself.

  When his hand came out to take hers she had to stop herself from snatching it off, such was her longing for him. She pulled him to his feet and dragged him to her bed. Then she allowed him to bury himself so far inside her he forgot everything for that short time. And as he moaned and ground himself into her, she thanked God for what had happened because it had given her tonight the only man she had ever wanted.

  Louise Carter was a fool of a woman. The only man she’d wanted was dead and buried this long time. If she had transferred that love on to her husband she could have been the happiest woman alive.

  As Sue kissed Kevin’s sweaty face and stroked his strong body she knew that she would keep him by her side, no matter what she had to do.

  Louise Carter had lost everything in one day. That was how other people would see it anyway. First her home, then her health, then her husband. They would have to face up to hostility and ridicule, but having Kevin by her side would be worth it. Worth everything that was going to come hurtling at them.

  Wrapping her arms around him Sue held him until he slept. She was still awake as the sun crept through the curtains and she was still looking at him when he opened his eyes and smiled to find himself there with her.

  ‘I love you, Sue.’

  She smiled happily. She had waited to hear those words for such a long, long time.

  Chapter Twelve

  Marie listened to Amanda Stirling, her face devoid of expression. She knew the probation officer meant well, she was a kind and caring individual, but Marie wasn’t in the mood for any of it.

  The policeman was kind as well. He had a rough angular face that looked as if it had been slept in by a Big Issue seller, topped with iron-grey hair that seemed to have a life of its own. She instinctively felt he was a man she could trust.

  But Karen Black’s confinement to prison meant little to Marie. She had been in prison herself, knew that Karen would soon find a niche in there and consequently would not really be that put out. In fact, she would see it as just another layer in her own invincible hardness. But she kept these thoughts to herself.

  ‘You see, Miss Carter, we believe that the attack on you was carried out by Black. She has been very vocal about seeking revenge for her cousin . . .’

  Marie shook her head and interrupted him.

  ‘I was mugged. I know Karen Black and she wasn’t there. If they’d been teaching me a lesson of any kind they would have told me. I know the etiquette of such things. Probably better than you.’

  DI Dawson looked into her eyes. He had noticed their dead expression, as if she had ceased living a long time ago and now merely existed. He had seen eyes like those many times over the years, but his heart went out to this woman and he didn’t know why. She was big, tall, strong-boned. A voluptuous woman in some respects. But she also had a vulnerability that appealed to him. He guessed, correctly, that it was this part of her that had got her into so much trouble with men.

  ‘She has admitted her part in the arson attack on your parents’ home, but we urge you to be extra-vigilant. That is a big family she comes from and they are known for their violence.’

  Marie smiled at him warmly and the effect on him was electric.

  ‘Thank you, Mr Dawson, but I have lived with violence for the best part of my life and I learned how to avoid it in prison. I appreciate your concern but I have to live my life as best I can, don’t I? Otherwise Karen Black has won.’

  He didn’t answer her. Amanda was staring with apparent interest at a jotter in front of her on her desk.

  ‘I did a terrible thing and have had to live with that for many years. This seems petty in comparison. I just wish I had been the rec
ipient of her hatred instead of my mother, though why she picked on my family I really don’t know. My mother hates me more than Karen Black ever will. She wouldn’t even take in my poor children, though in fairness to the Blacks they took in Bethany’s.’

  No one spoke.

  ‘Black insists that she thought your mother was at the graveyard and she only meant to burn down the house.’

  Marie looked him full in the face.

  ‘I can believe that. Strangely enough, I’m sure I never intended to kill either Bethany or Caroline. Frighten them maybe, for whatever reason, so I believe her when she says that. But things get out of hand and before you know it you’re in deep, over your head. One rash act causes a landslide you have to cope with the rest of your life. You only have to look at me to see that. I want to know why I killed them both yet another part of me is frightened of finding out why I did it. It might be worse to know the reason.’

  She looked as if she had gone into a world of her own again. When she spoke once more her voice was laden with sorrow. Who it was for no one in the room could even guess.

  ‘Are they doing her for conspiracy as well as attempted murder?’

  Dawson nodded.

  Marie shrugged.

  ‘It’s in the hands of the CPS then, isn’t it? I just hope they’re as thorough with her as they were with me.’

  Dawson didn’t know what to say and it showed. His face flushed a deep red and he spent a few seconds clearing his throat.

  Two minutes after that they all went about their daily business. It was only later in the morning that Amanda Stirling saw she had written over and over on the pad on her desk: Poor woman. Poor woman.

  Marie Carter affected her like that. Made her feel that she wanted to protect her. And considering what Marie had done all those years before, that fact amazed her.

  ‘Have you heard, Tiff ? Your granny is like a pork scratching.’ Patrick Connor was roaring with laughter. ‘Best fucking news I’ve heard in years that is. Pity Lucy was out, I’d have liked to have seen her burnt to a fucking crisp and all. Another mouthy prat, that is.’

  Tiffany carried on washing Anastasia. She knew Pat didn’t expect an answer and she was tired and wired out. All she wanted was a rock and she knew that if she did what he wanted she would get one. The little girl was soaped up and slippery, her laughing face subdued now her father was also in the bathroom.

  ‘Hello, darling! Who’s Daddy’s best girl then?’ Pat bellowed at the child, a big grin on his face. Anastasia’s little face crumpled and she burst into tears. He rolled his eyes at the ceiling as the child’s screams reached a crescendo.

  ‘One miserable whore, that kid is. Like her granny. Stick her under the grill, that will shut her up.’

  Tiffany turned on him.

  ‘That’s not funny, Pat. Don’t say things like that.’

  He grinned and took a small package from his pocket.

  ‘I have a present for you and all so you better be nice to me.’

  He waved the small sweetie packet full of rocks at her temptingly. He saw the need on Tiffany’s face and moved slowly backwards out of the bathroom.

  ‘Come to Daddy, Tiff.’

  She put the crying child back into the bathwater and went to get up. He barked his orders at her.

  ‘On your knees, Tiffany. Come to Daddy on your knees.’

  On one level she knew she was a fool, but the lure of the crack was too strong. She did as he wanted.

  Anastasia had picked up a Tweenie bath toy and was chewing it, her big eyes watching the antics of her mummy and daddy.

  Tiffany shuffled around the flat as he moved away from her, the bag rustling noisily and offering her the oblivion she craved. Each time she grabbed for it he moved it quickly away, laughing all the while. He was enjoying watching her beg. Seeing her haggard face turn animated because the thing she craved so much was in front of her, within reach.

  As he held the bag out for a second too long she snatched it from him. Her face was almost animal-like and he watched her in satisfaction as she rummaged through it for the biggest rock, shaking his head with pride.

  She looked terrible. Her mouth had the beginnings of cold sores, her skin was flaking and her eyes had deep black bags underneath them. Her long blonde hair looked dirty, sovereign-coloured from lack of shampoo and conditioner. She finally looked what she was: a trick buster and whore. A prostitute. This was working out better than he had expected. He had her now where he wanted her, needed her, completely dependent on him and what he had to offer. He felt like a king in his castle. Everything Tiffany did from now on would be for him and him only.

  A quick call to Social Services and the baby would be taken care of. Then he would have her at her lowest ebb, could pick up the pieces for her. A vicious circle was all that was needed. Once the kid was off the scene she would be devastated and the drugs would help the pain a little. He could kill two birds with one stone. What a clever boy he was.

  He smiled again as he saw her burning the crack. Her nose seemed to grow longer with each draw she took. It was a strange optical illusion as she tried to take the drug deeper and deeper into her lungs.

  Soon he could concentrate on the new girl he had picked up from Paddington station a few days ago, a little bleached blonde, fourteen top whack, with budding breasts and a mouth just built for blow jobs. She was on the ball as well, a succession of children’s homes had seen to that. He was honeymooning her at the moment until he gained her trust. Then he would put the fear of Christ up her and rule her through terror and drugs. If only their mums could see their little girls after he had finished with them. Now that would be a laugh.

  Life was sweet and Patrick enjoyed every second of it.

  Tiffany slipped sideways on to the floor, her expression glazed. He heard Anastasia splashing about in the bath and felt a moment’s anger. He would have to dry the baby now and he had an appointment at four o’clock. He pushed Tiffany on to her back with the toe of his Italian designer shoe. She stared up at him, her eyes like a newborn’s, devoid of intelligence and milky, as if she had clingfilm over them.

  She was hooked all right. Anyone with half a brain could work that one out. She would kill for it if she had to. Just like her mother before her.

  As he wrapped Anastasia in a towel and stepped over Tiffany’s prone body with the child in his arms, he felt the satisfaction of a job well done.

  ‘Look at Mummy, sweetie, out of her fucking nut as usual.’

  Anastasia grinned at him, unaccustomed to the gentleness in his voice.

  ‘Da-da.’

  He laughed delightedly, singing an old Curtis Mayfield track as he dried her. The little girl enjoyed the attention from her daddy and crowed with enjoyment at his words. She had learned at a very young age that when people were nice to you, you made the most of it. You never knew how long it would last.

  Patrick was holding her up and looking into her face as he sang, his smile wide and happy.

  As the rush wore off Tiffany watched him singing and dancing with his little daughter and her heart hurt so much she believed that it was finally broken.

  Patrick grinned at Anastasia and said gently, ‘Another few years and you will dance for your daddy, won’t you?’

  She just clapped and clapped, her face wreathed in smiles.

  Lucy stared at her supervisor in obvious distress.

  ‘Look, Luce, everyone knows the score here and I think you should take a few weeks off then decide whether you want to come back to work. Karen Black’s husband and brother were seen here early this morning, asking for you, but you didn’t hear that from me, OK? I sympathise, but I really have no intention of getting any more involved than I have to.’

  He was embarrassed, and a part of Lucy felt sorry for him. The Blacks weren’t the type of people anyone wanted on their case. But after the events of the last few days she wasn’t emotionally strong enough to cope with this rejection on top of everything else.

  ‘What are
you saying? That you don’t want me back? Fucking rich that is, coming from you. I assume your scam with the Blacks will continue even though Karen is locked up over trying to murder my mother?’

  ‘That’s unfair, Lucy, and you know it.’

  ‘Do I?’

  Her voice had all its usual belligerence.

  ‘How do I know that? I came in today for one reason and one reason only. To ask for a few weeks’ grace until I get back on me feet. But you more or less tell me to leave me job because you don’t want to get involved with my problems. I bet a solicitor will be interested in what’s happened here this morning. You’ll be hearing from mine soon.’

  She picked up her bag and the supervisor’s voice stayed her.

  ‘Do you realise the animosity this has caused? I am heart sorry for what happened, Luce, who wouldn’t be? But this is the Blacks we’re talking about, love, and the fucking Waltons they ain’t. I am trying to help you here. They are lunatics and you know that. Look what they just did to your mum. Give it a couple of weeks, see how the land lies. I’ll make sure you get paid in full, I promise.’

  She knew that to argue with him was futile. He made sense but she was so low that she wanted to hit out at someone, anyone.

  She took her bag and walked from the office. As she passed through the factory she saw the pitying looks and ignored them. All she wanted to do was put her head on someone’s shoulder and cry.

  But Mickey’s mother had put paid to that, only letting Lucy have the sofa to sleep on and then leaving her bedroom door open so Mickey couldn’t sneak down. Her father had not been in touch and she had no one else close. No real friends she could turn to. She had her mother, ill and difficult, and not another soul to call her own.

  It finally occurred to her that her life was a wasted mess, but not that she was to blame for it. At least Karen Black had family to fall back on. People who cared. Lucy had no one.

  Even Marie, the cause of everything bad that had happened, would have been welcome at this particular moment in time.

  As she stood at the bus stop it took all Lucy’s will-power not to break down and cry. She wasn’t hurting for her mother, or her home, she wanted to cry for herself. For the terrible things that had happened to her. She would never understand that her own selfishness was the real cause of every single one of them.