Home Truths

by Susan Lewis

  She wanted to protect him, to bring him back to them so he could be the real Liam again, but she didn’t know how. ‘You have to tell Mum and Dad about the bad things,’ she urged him.

  He shook his head. ‘Dad will try to do something about it …’

  ‘He’ll keep you safe.’

  ‘He can’t. He thinks he can solve everything …’

  ‘Because he can.’

  ‘No, he can’t. I used to think the same, but you don’t know these people, Grace. If you mess with them you pay. I’ve seen what they do.’

  ‘Liam, please …’

  His bony hands gripped her shoulders again. ‘Grace, listen to me, please. I can’t tell Dad and nor can you. If anyone tries to get me away from them they’ll come after my family. It’s how they operate. They’ve told me that and I know they mean it. So please, don’t tell Dad what I’ve just told you. Just know you’re safe as long as I keep working for them and he doesn’t try to mess with them.’

  But her dad had tried to mess with them, not because Grace had broken her promise and told him that Liam was trying to protect them, but because Zac had found a syringe and played at injecting himself. She still didn’t know how involved Liam had been in their dad’s death, but when she finally broke her promise, after her mum had sent Liam away, her mum had said that even if Dad had known that Liam was trying to save them it wouldn’t have changed what happened that day.

  ‘What we need to do now, Grace,’ she’d said, ‘is keep trying to think the best of him and do what we can to find him.’

  But they still hadn’t found him and he hadn’t tried to contact them either.

  If he was here now Grace felt sure he’d want to help Mum through this difficult time, although there was no way she’d take money that had come from drugs. She’d like to know he was safe though, which was why Grace often posted messages asking if anyone had seen him. If you know where my brother is please tell me, or tell him to come home. #LIAMWATTSISMISSING

  That brought replies from sickos too, but she had to do something.

  ‘Hey, have you finished?’ Lois asked, popping her head up through the ladder hatch.

  ‘All done,’ Grace replied, going to pick up the tray that Lois had slid on to the floor as she climbed into the loft. Hot chocolate and fig cookies. She wondered if her mum and Zac were having the same and knew they probably weren’t.

  ‘So, any good suggestions for making money turned up yet?’ Lois asked, going to sit on the bed. ‘I mean apart from the usual stupid stuff?’

  ‘Nothing new,’ Grace confirmed.

  Biting into a biscuit, Lois said, ‘Do you still have the WhatsApp from the woman who’s supposed to be an old friend of your dad’s?’

  Calling it up, Grace reached for a mug, took a sip of chocolate and said, ‘Yep, still here.’

  ‘Mm, read it to me again.

  ‘Hi Grace, we haven’t met but I used to know your dad really well. He was a lovely man. Everyone liked him. I see from your post that you’re trying to find a way to make some money. Does that mean things aren’t going too well for you and your family since he died? I’m really sorry if that’s true, but if it is I think I can help. If you’re interested to know more, just message me back. Anya.’

  Lois swallowed her mouthful and said, ‘Did you ever mention it to your mum?’

  Grace almost laughed. ‘She’d go nuts if she thought I was even trying to earn some money, never mind going online to ask for suggestions on how to do it.’

  Clearly understanding that, Lois said, ‘So, do you know anyone called Anya?’

  ‘I don’t think so.’

  After finishing a biscuit Lois said, ‘It’s the best offer we’ve had so far, so what would be the harm in going back to ask how she can help? I mean, it’s not like you’re agreeing to meet some weirdo or something. This is a woman, and looking at her picture she’s kind of cool. Reminds me a bit of Lady Gaga, but older?’

  Grace studied the image on her phone. It was true, she did look a bit like Lady Gaga when the singer’s hair was platinum blonde. ‘I wonder how my dad knew her?’ she said. An image of her mother looking sad and tired flashed in her mind, and at the same time the longing for her father became horribly intense. He would definitely want her to help, and if this Anya was a friend of his …

  ‘If I do answer her,’ she said, ‘what should I say?’

  Lois gave it some thought. ‘Well, I think we should start by finding out how she thinks she can help. If she’s got some sort of loan in mind it’s a non-starter, because we’ll never be able to pay it back.’

  ‘Do you think that’s it?’ Grace responded worriedly.

  ‘I’m just guessing,’ Lois reminded her, ‘we won’t know anything unless you ask, so it’s up to you. Do you want to message back?’

  Grace was torn. It might not even be a woman; it could be anyone. ‘Would you, if you were me?’

  Lois nodded. ‘Definitely,’ she confirmed. ‘You don’t have anything to lose, and unless we ask we’ll never know if there’s something to be gained.’

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Steve’s smell had seemed to linger in this room for a long time after he’d gone, dusty paint mingled with a tang of sweat and the maleness that was uniquely him. Angie used to sit here at his desk at the front end of the playroom just to breathe him in, her eyes closed as she imagined him coming in and sliding his arms around her. Sometimes she could hear him singing as he played the piano, ‘Unforgettable’ for her, ‘Fly Me to the Moon’ for Liam, a Justin Bieber song for Grace, ‘The Teddy Bear’s Picnic’ for Zac. It could seem so real that she felt sure if she turned around he’d be there, and even when he wasn’t she still sensed him as though he was watching over them. It warmed her heart to think that he was, and she’d smile or scowl in case he could see her.

  This evening, she was in here to try and get a sense of what she should do next, but instead of the calming connection to her husband that she’d needed and hoped for, the room seemed full of her fear.

  She’d spent over an hour on the phone to the CLA today – Civil Legal Advice – but they’d only ended up telling her what she already knew. It was the same as the lawyer had told her – another hour spent clutching at straws that fell apart at the first touch. Her landlord had done everything by the book. Every i was dotted and t crossed, all legal requirements had been met; he even had her signature on a recorded delivery informing her that he was taking his case to court. Of course there was no record of Agi’s intimidation over these past months, any more than there was evidence of what had happened earlier today at Roland Shalik’s office when she’d gone to beg for more time.

  She hadn’t forced herself in exactly, but she had managed to get as far as his secretary’s office on the third floor of the building before she’d been stopped. After that she’d planted herself in the lift lobby, refusing to move until he agreed to see her. She’d known he was in there because she’d watched from a Costa across the street as a dark blue Range Rover had pulled up outside the glass-fronted block and the driver had held open a rear door for his boss to get out.

  Everything appeared so upscale and respectable, the swanky offices, a chauffeur, an expensive suit, not a sign of the small band of thugs who carried out all his dirty work behind the scenes. She doubted they even came here; their territory would be far less exalted, tucked away in the heart of the region’s most run-down estates where no decent human being should ever have to tread. Shalik wouldn’t want his henchmen in this place, tainting his image as a respectable businessman. Perhaps some of his dealings were legal, but the expansion of his father’s property portfolio into areas Hari would never have touched unless to help in some way was well known for the atrocity it was.

  When he’d finally let her into his hallowed inner sanctum, sighing sadly as he pointed her to a faux leather button-back wing chair across the wide expanse of his desk, Shalik had listened quietly as she’d made her case. There had been two others in the room, both men
, lounging on sofas in a corner, apparently engaged in their phones and laptops. Shalik’s long head with tight curls on each side and none on the top tilted to an angle as if he were interested to hear of her plight, curious even as to how so much misfortune had come her way. There was nothing hostile in his manner, or even vaguely impatient or derisive as she reminded him yet again that his father would never have wanted her and her family to be in this position.

  When he finally responded, in a voice that sounded convincingly regretful, he said, ‘You’re right, of course, about my father; he would never have wanted this for you.’

  Angie waited for more, daring to hope that she might finally be getting through to him.

  ‘But time has moved on, Angie,’ he said mournfully. ‘Things are different now, and my dear father …’ He waved a ringed hand in a circular motion, almost as if Hari had somehow spiralled off into thin air. He gave an unconvincing smile and brought them back to the point. ‘Can I remind you that we have other houses that could accommodate you,’ he said, ‘and at a rent you are more able to afford. I hope we’ve made that clear to you …’

  ‘I know the houses you mean,’ she gritted out angrily, ‘and you know very well I can’t accept one. I have two children, for God’s sake.’

  He nodded, as though accepting her reasoning. ‘Plenty of children live on the Temple Meads estate,’ he said mildly, ‘and some do very well …’

  ‘Not the children who live in your hovels,’ she cut in fiercely. ‘I know what goes on in them, the drugs, the prostitution and trafficking. The only decent properties you own are on the Fairweather estate …’

  ‘Which you can’t afford,’ he came in quietly. ‘We’ve established that, but I think one of the houses on Colemead Lane would suit you very well.’

  Angie baulked in shock – Colemead Lane was where Steve had been beaten to death. How could he even think it, never mind say it out loud?

  As a consuming rage took hold of her she leapt to her feet. ‘What kind of man are you?’ she cried savagely. ‘Your father would be so ashamed of you he’d disown you if he knew how you were treating me.’

  Shalik’s eyebrows rose. ‘You have a very romantic view of my father,’ he informed her, ‘but that is understandable. He was a charismatic man with a social conscience, especially where you and your husband were concerned. But he knew what he was doing when he passed his affairs over to me. He could see the way things were going so he decided to leave the difficult work to his only son. And it is difficult, Angie, you know this, because I have tried to explain it to you before. Our biggest problem is that you don’t want to listen. You are here today to beg for more time, and you cannot deny that I have given you this often in the past. I am even offering you another house so that you will continue to have a roof over your heads, but you won’t accept it. I’ve also made it clear that we’re willing to arrange a loan to help meet your financial obligations, but you won’t take that either. And still I am prepared to help you. If you – and perhaps your daughter – come to work for me your debts could be paid off in less than a few months; we might even see our way to letting you stay on in Willow Close if you are acceptable to our terms of …’

  Angie would have grabbed him by the throat if his desk hadn’t been so wide. She could hardly see through the red mist of rage that blinded her, the hate and disgust. ‘You are not your father’s son,’ she hissed at him savagely. ‘You are an abomination that can’t even call itself human.’ She leaned in closer. ‘Go anywhere near my daughter, and you will die, I swear …’

  She got no further as big arms suddenly heaved her away, manhandled her across the office and out of the door – and even in the heated, horrific moments of it, she’d wondered how she’d got to this terrible place in her life, who she even was any more.

  Now, as she sat at Steve’s desk, cringing at the memory of the day, she stared down at the eviction notice that was on the top of a pile of red-reminders and other threatening letters. There was nothing she could do to make any of it go away, or to change the date on the notice. Their time in this house would come to an end in fifteen days, at which point court enforcers – bailiffs – would arrive to ensure she left. Of course, she could go earlier and avoid the shame of having them knock on the door, the horror of even seeing them … Or she could stay and fight, knowing that the law wasn’t on her side, and that she had neither the right nor the physical strength to prevent them from carrying out their job.

  If it were just her without the children she might be able to work things out more easily, she wouldn’t have to worry about schools, friends, what people would say … She might even consider one of Shalik’s other houses for a while, but Grace and Zac would always come first and she’d already lost one child to the lawless streets of that appalling estate; nothing in the world would persuade her to risk losing another.

  Rubbing her hands over her face, she turned out the light and left the room. She must try to make herself accept the fact that they were going to have to leave this house. There was simply no way to avoid it now, but before she broke it to the children and got them to start packing up all the things that mattered most to them, she needed to be able to tell them where they were going.

  By the end of the day tomorrow she should be able to do that.

  ‘Anything from the Anya woman?’ Lois yawned, as she and Grace woke up in their separate beds each side of the sloping ceiling of Lois’s loft. ‘Yes, alive and breathing,’ she shouted as her mother called out to make sure they were awake and getting ready for school.

  Still bleary-eyed Grace picked up her phone, switched it on and opened WhatsApp. ‘Nothing,’ she replied, and clicking through to Facebook she came fully awake when she saw there was a reply to her latest attempt to find Liam.

  If you want to know where he is meet me at the corner of Fisher Road and the playing fields at six o’clock. #LIAMWATTSISMISSING

  Her heart sank, for even without checking she knew it would be from one of the Northsider gang at school, and as if to confirm it there was a PM from Ryan Gibbs, the only decent one amongst them.

  Don’t fall for it Grace. You know what they’re after and you don’t need it. No one knows where he is. I promise if they did I’d tell you.

  Not a great start to the day, but at least she was due to collect eight quid from homework assignments when she got to school – enough to pay for her and Lois’s snacks after dance class later, something Lois always did – and with any luck Anya would have got back to her by then with some brilliant way of fixing everything.

  The number printed on a flimsy ticket in Angie’s hand was 59. This meant there were fifteen people ahead of her in the queue, and with only six pods open the wait was likely to be long.

  It was rare she came to this soulless block of offices behind the town hall; those with housing issues were strongly discouraged from making their cases in person, so she didn’t even come for the residents. It was all done online, provided you had a computer, and if you didn’t you had to hope you knew someone who did.

  She looked around at the worried and stressed expressions of her fellow claimants. Some seemed angry, frustrated, and talked in loud voices about how badly they were being treated by ‘the system’, what a disgrace it was and how no one was even interested in helping. She found herself trying to offer small smiles of reassurance whenever she caught someone’s eye – it was second nature for her to do that in spite of how wretched she was feeling, a few times her smile was returned.

  Time ticked slowly on.

  She managed to keep herself calm with the reminder of what she’d read online many times these past several days. The council has a duty to rehouse you if you have children who rely on you financially and they need somewhere to live. If there was nowhere to put them as a family, it was possible the council would call in a social worker to take the children and leave her to fend for herself.

  Don’t be ridiculous, Emma will take them, she reminded herself forcefully.

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sp; Finally her number came up on the digital display, and she went to the pod where a thin, sallow man was indicating the chair in front of him. There was no friendly smile, and no hello as he tapped his keyboard with quick, bony fingers and kept looking at his screen as though it were annoying him. Or perhaps he was deliberately extending her wait.

  ‘Name?’ he suddenly asked.

  She gave it, and because she knew the procedure she added her current address; her date of birth, the fact she was female, no, she hadn’t made a claim for housing before, only housing benefit, and yes she had a case number from her online application, which she read out.

  ‘So how can I help?’ he asked in a tone that suggested he’d like to do anything but.

  She explained as succinctly as she could about the eviction, putting the notice on the desk between them so he could examine it for himself. He gave it a quick glance, added something to whatever window he had open on his screen, and said, ‘Children?’

  She swallowed dryly. ‘Three. Two living at home.’

  ‘Ages?’

  ‘Thirteen and seven.’

  For some reason he took a while to upload these details, leaving her heart to race with anxiety as she was cast in the role of involuntary eavesdropper on the case in the next pod. The woman had apparently already had her children taken into care; she was here to beg for a bigger place so she could have them back.

  The next fifteen minutes felt interminable, and punishing, as she was grilled about everything from her finances to her employment status, to whether she or her children had a history of antisocial behaviour. He wanted to know more about the rent arrears and all other debts; whether she had a husband and which schools the children attended. He asked if the place they were living in was insanitary or overcrowded; was she pregnant, did anyone in the family suffer from mental illness, did she have any family living nearby. There were so many questions, so much detail required that she’d already provided in her online application, but apparently it had to be gone through again.