Broken

by Martina Cole

  Jacky shook his head. ‘No way. I give you the number, lady, then you fuck off.’

  Kate lit a cigarette, slowly and deliberately.

  ‘Not being funny, son, but I think we’ve already established that I am calling the shots here. So just give me the number or I’ll ask Callum very nicely to get it out of you. Don’t wind me up!’ she growled suddenly.

  The two villains knew that this was a woman on the edge. The man she adored had just been left with gunshot wounds and a tenuous grip on life. She also had the backing of a serious and mentally disturbed face called Callum Norville.

  There was no choice; they had to do what she wanted.

  ‘I’ll keep Norville away, don’t worry.’

  But it sounded a bit uncertain, as though she wasn’t sure she could really do that. It had the desired effect. Suddenly Boris took a back seat. He was scary, he was dangerous, but so was Callum Norville and he had the edge because now they were within his grasp.

  As Kate saw the two men climbing into the van with Benjamin she sighed. She was in above her head now, had finally stepped over the fine line that separated law and order from badness and villainy.

  She was disappointed in herself; had expected to feel much worse about it than she actually did. In fact, she had enjoyed it. But that was probably because she was doing something at last. She knew that Patrick Kelly would have moved heaven and earth to help her out if the boot was on the other foot.

  She was just repaying the compliment.

  Sarah Coltman got out of her car and stretched. She was tired out. Her whole body ached. She rubbed her large belly, felt the child within it move gently.

  She loved living here, though everyone thought she and Max were mad for choosing to do so. There were only two other small cottages down Sunny Lane, but that was what they liked about it. The privacy and the quiet. Both born in Grantley on council estates, they had worked and saved to buy their dream home. Every time she looked at the cottage with its thatched roof and pretty garden Sarah felt a jolt of pure, unadulterated happiness. With the baby on the way, they had it all.

  Sarah pushed her thick dark hair from her eyes and looked out over the fields opposite. They would be muck-spreading soon and the smell would be atrocious, but that was part and parcel of going rural. A fly buzzed around her face and she brushed it away gently.

  She yawned loudly and then opening the boot she took out her heavy bags of shopping, and lugged them towards her front door. Just then she saw a woman walking along the lane. The sight caught her eye because the woman had a stunningly beautiful child with her. The little girl had long blond hair and blue eyes, like a picture of an angel come to life. But she was crying loudly, her face contorted by tears.

  Sarah put down her shopping and walked to her gate. The woman turned abruptly as she saw her and dragged the child along the lane. The little girl was calling out, ‘I want my mummy!’ She was looking over her shoulder at Sarah, her huge blue eyes beseeching.

  Opening the gate, Sarah followed them down the lane. It was instinctive.

  As the woman picked up the child, Sarah found herself running behind them. The child was hysterical now, screaming.

  ‘Stop! Excuse me, could you slow down, please? I want to talk to you.’ Sarah’s voice was louder than she had thought. It rang in her own ears as she ran, panting, down the uneven lane. She was praying she wouldn’t lose her footing and fall over.

  The girl was kicking and struggling now, holding out her arms to Sarah in supplication and Sarah knew in the deepest recess of her heart that this child was in trouble. It spurred her on. Even with her heavy belly weighing her down she made herself run faster. The sun was in her eyes and she was struggling to see.

  The woman in front of her had long brown hair and she was running at a remarkable speed considering she was carrying a sturdily built toddler. Just then the little girl gave her a well-aimed kick and the woman stumbled. Sarah saw her and the child fall heavily to the ground.

  She gained on them.

  Then the woman was up on her knees and trying to snatch back the little girl. But the toddler was quicker. Fast on her feet, she ran blindly towards Sarah. Then the woman was up again and dragging the screaming child back by its bright red T-shirt. But she had been slowed down and with a final spurt Sarah gained on them.

  The woman turned. Taking back her arm, she planted one fist straight into Sarah’s swollen stomach. The blow doubled her up. She felt a heavy popping inside her and fell, stunned and in excruciating pain, on to her knees. With tears in her eyes she watched as the woman picked up the now quiet child and ran off down the quiet country lane.

  Within seconds all Sarah could hear was the birds singing and the low drone of a tractor somewhere in the distance. She took deep breaths to try and still the racing of her heart and the heavy pain that was suffusing her heavily laden body.

  Hearing a car door slam nearby, she remembered seeing a black saloon car parked in one of the lay-bys as she had returned from shopping.

  Rolling on to her side, she tried to pull herself to her knees. The pain was abating slightly and, praying under her breath, she attempted to stand. She started the walk back to her house, her body all the time telling her that she needed a doctor, and needed one soon.

  It took her ten minutes to get back to her house. There she phoned an ambulance and the police in that order.

  Kathy Collins was twenty-five years old, and she was an ancient twenty-five year old. As her four daughters ran around her, crying out for attention and fighting with one another, she sat herself down on the battered sofa and lit a joint. Kathy pulled the smoke deep into her lungs and let it out with a heavy, heartfelt sigh.

  ‘SHUT THE FUCK UP!’ Her voice was loud, but not that loud.

  Her eldest daughter, Tiffany, started laughing. ‘Shut the fuck up,’ she mimicked. ‘Shut the fuck up, shut the fuck up . . .’

  The three smaller ones took up the chant and Kathy shook her head in mock reproof. They were four little sods.

  ‘What do you want to eat?’ Her voice was weary now as she heard the answer she heard every night of their lives.

  ‘Chips. Chips and beans.’

  They were running around again, the four beautiful little girls that she loved or hated depending on what mood she was in. It was 7.35 p.m. and they had just come in for something to eat after a heavy day of playing out and generally being sods.

  The front door stood wide open and Suzy Harrington walked straight in.

  Kathy looked at her snidely. ‘What do you want?’

  ‘Can I borrow one of the kids, please? I have a client. Nothing too bad, just looking really.’

  Kathy was unsure. She could do with the money, but she always felt guilty afterwards. Especially if it was the little one, Rebecca. She hated Suzy for doing this to her.

  Suzy saw her indecision and pulled out a twenty-pound note and a small silver-foil package.

  ‘Finest grade, not cut yet, so be careful, Kath. This is shit hot gear.’ The girl’s smile as she held out the package and the money was reassuring. ‘It’s only for an hour, love, and no touching, I promise. Just a few photos and a bit of fun. Straight up.’

  Kathy took the money. ‘Have you heard about Kerry?’

  The tall girl shrugged. ‘She’s a cunt to herself. Always leaving them poor kids on their own. They’re better off without her.’ She was picking up Rebecca in her arms as she spoke.

  Kathy suddenly wanted desperately to snatch the child back from her but the weight of the package in her hand stopped her. Inside she felt awful, but inside she was also craving the oblivion the heroin would give her. It was a vicious circle and she knew it. She wasn’t stupid, though. She knew they never touched the kids because she had checked them over when they came back.

  ‘Look, Kathy, it’s OK. Like I told you before, this stops a lot of men from going out looking for kids. Now they can just look at the photos and get off like that. It’s like prostitutes and rape. If there were mo
re prostitutes there’d be less rapes. It’s obvious.’

  Kathy didn’t really believe any of it, but she convinced herself she did. When it was convenient she could convince herself of most things.

  ‘One hour and no more, right?’

  The girl grinned, showing even white teeth. ‘Probably sooner. This bloke is a real professional . . .’

  Kathy held up a hand in protest. ‘I don’t wanna know, all right? Just get her back soon, she’s hungry.’

  Suzy knew better than to push it. She had the child, she had what she wanted, why rock the boat? She left the flat quietly with Rebecca in her arms.

  Kathy saw the accusing gaze of her eldest girl and slapped her face hard. Then, giving the child the twenty-pound note, she sent her down the chippy for chips and beans. Soon she’d have them off to bed and indulge in her favourite pastime alone. The thought of oblivion had never been more welcome.

  Sarah lay in the hospital bed with her husband by her side. He was gripping her small hand in his, tears in his eyes.

  ‘Stop worrying, Max. I ain’t in labour. I’m fine.’

  A large man, he was totally in awe of his dainty wife and her lusty determination to get the best out of life that she could. He adored Sarah, and she adored him. The child she was carrying was like a beacon of hope to him, the end of the long hard road they had travelled towards the good life.

  He could not believe another woman could have punched her in the belly like that. It was anathema to him even to consider it. Sarah’s heavy belly was bruised, but the child was fine, the doctors had told them. She had been more frightened and distressed than physically hurt.

  ‘I keep thinking about that little girl,’ she fretted. ‘I mean, she was really scared, love. Terrified. I don’t believe that woman was her mother.’

  ‘Well, whoever she was, she’ll get a slap across the face if I ever lay me hands on her.’ His voice was low with menace.

  Jenny watched them from the doorway. They made a touching tableau. The expectant parents. She felt a twinge of jealousy at their obvious happiness in each other. The man was holding his wife’s hand as if she was made of fine china.

  She stepped into the room with a big professional smile on her face. ‘Mr and Mrs Coltman?’

  They looked at her enquiringly.

  ‘I am Detective Inspector Jennifer Bartlett. But you can call me Jenny.’

  They both smiled.

  ‘I understand you were attacked while witnessing an incident, Mrs Coltman?’

  The woman in the bed nodded.

  ‘I’d been shopping and I’d just got home. We live down Sunny Lane. It’s really quiet there. You know, rural.’ She sighed and took a sip of water. ‘I saw this woman - tall, brown-haired, wearing a light raincoat and jeans. Well, it was really the child I noticed at first. She was a good-looking little kid, with really long thick blonde hair and blue eyes, aged about three. You know how hard it is to tell with kids.’

  She was quiet for a moment, remembering. ‘The kid was upset.’

  ‘Go on, Mrs Coltman.’ Jenny could hear the anguish in the woman’s voice.

  ‘She was crying, calling out to me. She was shouting, “I want my mummy.” ’

  Sarah took another drink of water and her husband fussed around her, making her comfortable.

  ‘Mr Coltman, could I trouble you to get me a cup of tea?’

  He looked at Jenny strangely, then nodded his head.

  ‘Thank you. White, no sugar.’

  As he walked from the room Jenny felt the other woman relax.

  ‘Thank you for that. Every time I talk about her punching me he gets more and more upset. I think he’d have took it better if it had been a man.’

  ‘Can you remember anything more about the woman?’

  Sarah closed her eyes. ‘She was strong - and I mean strong. The child must have been quite heavy, you know. Yet she ran with her easily until she tripped. The kid was really upset, there’s no way I misconstrued what happened, and when she hit me that woman really packed a punch. I mean, she brought her fist right back and the blow was very hard and painful. I thought it had brought the baby on.’

  ‘Would you know the woman again?’ Jenny asked.

  ‘No danger. I’d know her straight off. The kid, though. It’s her that’s bothering me. Have any been reported missing?’

  Jenny shook her head. ‘Not locally, no.’

  ‘I just hope it’s got nothing to do with what’s been happening in Grantley. All those poor children . . .’

  Jenny smiled wanly. ‘So do I. Can you remember anything else?’

  ‘A black saloon was parked in the lay-by as I drove home. Whether they were in that car or not I really don’t know, but I remember seeing it. I think it was a Ford.’

  ‘When you go home I’ll send someone to take a statement from you, OK? Can you try and think back, see if you can remember anything else that might help us?’

  ‘I’ll try. But I really don’t think that woman was the mother. That wasn’t a kid playing up to a parent. It was a terrified little girl.’

  Sarah looked deep into Jenny’s eyes.

  ‘I know that woman wanted to hurt me, and I feel sure she was going to hurt that child. Call it female intuition, whatever. But her face was evil. Yet I can’t really picture it in my mind.’

  ‘Try and rest, Mrs Coltman. When you’re ready, think back over it all. It’s amazing what you recall the next day and the subsequent few days. Meanwhile, I’ll see what I can dig up, eh?’

  They smiled at one another.

  ‘You were very brave to follow her like that, especially in your condition.’

  Sarah shrugged. ‘I didn’t really think about it to be honest. I just knew that child needed help.’

  ‘Well, whoever it is we’ll have them on a serious assault charge to start with. Now you rest and then we’ll see what else you can remember.’

  Jenny turned to the man in the doorway. ‘Ah, lovely, a cup of tea.’

  She was worried, but it didn’t show.

  Kate stood by Patrick’s bedside. It was quiet. All she could hear was the low hissing of the ventilator and the distant movement of the nurses on ICU. She took his hand in hers and squeezed it gently.

  ‘Hello, Pat. I’ve missed you so very much. All day I think of you and hope you’re getting better for me.’ She kissed him gently on the forehead and lips. He felt cool to her touch and she wanted to slip into bed with him and warm him with her body heat.

  ‘My mother sends her love, and Lizzy. She rang from Oz to say she’s rooting for you.’

  She leaned closer to him and whispered, ‘I’ve pulled in Jacky Gunner and Joey Partridge. Well, not pulled in. I’ve had Benjamin Boarder put them into hiding until I can get to Boris the Russian. I’ll sort this out for you, my darling, I promise. I should have listened to you. I shouldn’t have been so quick to judge you. I am so sorry, Pat.’

  A tear dropped on to his cheek and she watched it roll on to the pillow. It was soon followed by another and another.

  ‘Whatever it takes, Patrick, I will get to the bottom of everything, OK? But you must get better, darling. You must get better for me.’

  She straightened up. There was no response. Only the movement of his eyelids and the endless hissing of the respirator.

  Kate felt an urge to rip out her hair with her bare hands, and scream her angst and desperate longing for him to the world. Instead she settled herself by his bed and whispered words of encouragement and love into his ear.

  Jacky and Joey looked at their new abode then stared at one another in surprise. They had been blindfolded, trussed up and thrown bodily into a van. They had no idea where they were now.

  In actual fact, they were tied up in a small Portakabin on Tilbury docks. They could smell sweat, dirt and urine. On the floor looking up at them were two Rottweilers. On the seat opposite sat a scrawny skinhead with bad breath, bad teeth and bad tattoos of extreme right-wing propaganda.

  How this person
and Benjamin had become friends was a mystery they didn’t even want to contemplate.

  The boy scratched his arm. He had a flea bite on one of his swastikas and rubbed at it furiously. One of the dogs gave a low growl and the boy kicked out at it with his officer-booted foot.

  ‘Shut up, Bessie. You know you can’t be fed when you’re working.’ He glanced apologetically at the two men. ‘If they have to attack you, I prefer them to do it on an empty stomach. Makes the attack quicker and cleaner, like. Once I set them on this bloke and they’d eaten a great big dinner. Took them ages to do any real damage, see. I felt sorry for the bloke meself.’ He began to roll a cigarette and the two dogs settled down once more.

  Jacky Gunner looked around the cramped space. ‘Do you live here?’ he asked, genuinely curious.

  The boy, whose name was Colin, laughed. ‘Nah . . . live with me mum, I do. This is a shithole we use for dog baiting and attacks. That’s what the horrible smell is. Dog-piss and blood. I fight these two, see, they’re proper bastards. I bred the mother and the son and, fuck me, they’re a mean pair of puppies they are! I have to feed them separate like or they fight for the meat. Yet once they’re working, like all dogs they’ll fight as a team. More than one dog is a pack, see. Do either of you keep dogs?’

  He seemed really interested and Jacky and Joey both realised they were in the presence of a complete head case.

  Jacky shook his head. ‘Slept with a few, though.’

  The boy screamed with laughter and the two dogs jumped up to see what was occurring. Their handler slapped them back down to the floor viciously and the dogs cowered, trying to lick his hand.

  ‘I love dogs meself - the canine variety, I mean. Though my bird looks a bit suspect until I’ve had a skinful. She’ll be here later to bring me some supper. I’ll blindfold you while we shag. Have to observe the niceties, eh? Pity, really, she has fucking big tits. Not ashamed to flash them off either.’

  The two men listened in open amazement.

  ‘Has Benny-Boy explained the situation to you both by any chance?’