by KERRY BARNES
Justin held up his hands. ‘Jesus! Look, Carl, if what you’re saying is true, then I deserve all I get, but before you tell the police, please will you give me time to get to the bottom of this?’
‘I ain’t gonna tell the Ol’ Bill the truth. It was an accident, right, but you promise me, you won’t take Kara’s baby.’
Of course, Carl had an ulterior motive for allowing Justin to sit and talk without screaming blue murder, and he held all the cards. Justin knew when he was beaten. ‘I’m still the baby’s father.’
‘Yeah, mate, and if you don’t drop this fucking custody battle, you’ll be writing Denise Rose’s letters from inside the nick. It’s your choice.’
‘All right, I’ll drop the case.’
‘Good boy. I knew you’d see sense.’
* * *
It was late by the time Justin reached Lewisham; the cab took forever to get back to the prison. After his visit to see Carl, so many questions were going through his head, he needed answers, PDQ. He had to know the truth, wherever that led him. He circled his car and looked at the slight dent in the bumper and then at the blood on the ground. The darkness made it appear like black tar. At first, he didn’t want to drive because his car was now a death machine. He tried to rid his mind of a searing migraine that had just developed and turned on the ignition. Taking a deep breath to control his nerves, he drove away, in search of the truth about his wife.
The house was in darkness except for a lamp on in the living room. Justin looked up and down the road before he slipped through the garden gate and along the short pathway to the small three-bedroom semi-detached council house. A sensor light flicked on, and he could see the front door more clearly; the paint was faded and peeling, and the stone step was crumbling with grass growing through the cracks. He paused for a moment, gathering his thoughts before he rapped on the door. As he stepped back, the door opened and there stood a large man, roughly sixty years old, with a prominent belly and bloodshot eyes.
‘Are you Lucy’s father?’ was all Justin could think to ask.
The man, dressed in dirty jeans and a grey grubby-looking vest, slowly nodded, with a deep furrowed brow. ‘What’s happened?’ he asked, in a hoarse voice.
Justin sighed. ‘Nothing, but … I know it’s late. Could I come in and talk?’
Les stepped back and looked Justin up and down. ‘Who are you?’
‘I’m Justin Fox, Lucy’s husband.’
A slow snigger escaped Les’s lips and he shook his head. ‘Her husband, eh?’
‘Yes, I am.’
Les laughed again. ‘All right, then, you’d better come in.’
The ambience was hardly conducive to a non-smoker. The air was thick with stale smoke, and the place looked unkempt and uncared for, with wallpaper that was coming off in places and carpets that were threadbare. Justin followed the man as he made his way into the living room. It was sparse: a sofa, one armchair, a gas fire, and a battered-looking television set were the only items of note. And, also strange, the room was devoid of photographs. You could be forgiven for thinking Lucy never lived there. Les flopped into the armchair. He snatched a packet of cigarettes from the side table and politely offered Justin one.
‘Er, no, thank you.’
Les sucked hard until the end of the cigarette glowed. He blew out a huge cloud of smoke.
‘So, Justin, what did you want to see me about?’
Sitting himself on the sofa, Justin clasped his hands together. ‘The truth about my wife.’
‘Now, that’s a hard one, see, because I never knew if she was ever honest with me. The girl lied through her back teeth on a daily basis, so what exactly did you want to know?’
Looking around him, Justin felt uneasy; the room was cold and depressing. If his wife had grown up here, then no wonder she pretended she was fostered. Her father looked like a fat slob.
‘She told me she was fostered, that she didn’t have parents.’
Les laughed sarcastically. ‘Oh, yeah, I bet she said she was used, abused, beaten, locked in a cupboard, raped, tortured and, oh, the list goes on.’ He sighed heavily and took another deep drag on his cigarette.
‘Yes, she did say something like that, so why should I not believe her?’
‘You do what ya like, mate, she’s no concern of mine now. I ain’t seen her in a couple of years, and to be quite honest, it’s done me a right favour. At least I can live in peace and quiet. So, Justin, if we’re done, you can see yaself out.’
As Justin got up to leave, he said, ‘Oh, you might like to know, you have a grandson.’
Les sat up straight at that remark, shooting Justin a concerned look. He stubbed the cigarette out and jumped to his feet. ‘You what?’
Stunned at the sudden change in Les’s laid-back manner, Justin tilted his head to the side. ‘Why do you look so shocked?’
‘Fuck me, mate, where’s the baby now? Is she with him?’
‘No, he’s still in the hospital. He’s a very poorly baby. Why?’
‘Christ alive, you’d better sit ya arse back down. There’s a lot you need to know.’
The look of horror on Les’s face told Justin he wasn’t lying; no one was that good at acting.
Sitting down again, Les looked crestfallen. ‘Lucy has problems, as did her mother. She, the poor cow, ended up in a nuthouse, and I was literally left holding the baby. Try as I might, I did my best for that kid, but she wasn’t normal. She’s got an evil streak in her.’
Justin was now on the edge of his seat. ‘But why are you so concerned about our son? She wouldn’t hurt him, surely to God?’
Les’s eyes widened. ‘Yes, I believe she would. She had a baby a few years ago.’
‘What!’ cried Justin.
He could see Les’s eyes becoming sorrowful and the tears beginning to form.
‘A dear little thing, she was, such a pretty baby …’ He broke off and stared into space. ‘When the coroner said she’d died through suffocation – she’d got her face caught up in the blankets – I knew then …’
Justin had his hand over his mouth, gulping back the gasp ready to escape. ‘She didn’t kill her own baby, did she?’
Les allowed the tears to tumble down his fat cheeks. ‘They may have believed it was an accident, but I’m not convinced. She has a side to her that scares the shit out of me, and I’m a grown man. There is more to that girl than even I know about, but please believe me, for your son’s sake.’
Justin turned away and racked his brains, going over and over the odd behaviour over the past few weeks. He recalled his mother’s words in the hospital, telling him that Lucy never visited the baby, yet she’d told him that she went in the evenings. What other lies had she been feeding him?
‘Has she ever done anything else? I mean, her little girl may have suffocated. Why would you assume she had something to do with it?’
With a distant, vacant expression, Les remained silent for a few seconds, and then he slowly turned to face Justin. ‘Because she tried to kill her own baby sister, on more than one occasion.’
‘Jesus, what happened to her?’
Les wiped his narrow eyes. ‘I sent her mother-to-be and the baby away, for her own safety.’
Justin was more confused than ever. ‘But, didn’t you say her mother was in a nuthouse?’
‘Yes, she is, but I met another woman, such a beautiful woman, willing to take on Lucy and the baby. Lucy was five years old, and as soon as she held her little sister, she hated her. I saw it in her eyes. When I caught her trying to suffocate the baby, I knew then that I could never live with anyone, so I sent my lovely partner away, bless her heart. She adopted my baby and promised to give her a good life. Lucy was my responsibility, and so it was best all round.’
This was like a sick, twisted film and Justin shuddered. This could not be right, not Lucy. He was finding out a different side to his wife. As for harming a little child, her own child, it wasn’t possible. She could be difficult, but she was sweet a
t times. He could picture her, holding their son. Hearing all of this was proving to be quite an unnerving experience. It drove him to get up to leave. ‘Look, I have to go. I need to get to the hospital.’
Les struggled from his seat to show Justin to the door. ‘Yes, mate, please make sure she’s never alone with him.’
As Les turned on the hallway light, Justin was drawn to the pictures that were evenly placed up the staircase. He hadn’t seen them before. One particular photo showed a woman holding a baby.
Les followed his eyeline and noticed the photo that had grabbed Justin’s attention. ‘Yes, that was the love of my life. I still miss her and my other little girl, to this day. Shame, I only put that photo up last year. Lucy smashed the frame years ago, so I hid it in a drawer.’
With a dry mouth, and his heart beating like a bongo drum, Justin slowly turned to Les. ‘Is her name Joan, by any chance?’
Les’s eyes widened. ‘Yes. Why, did Lucy tell you about her?’
Justin swooned, and his face drained of colour. Les grabbed his arm. ‘Are you all right, mate? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.’
Gasping for breath and reeling from the shock of what he’d just learned in the house, Justin collapsed onto the bottom step of the stairs. Taking his time to get his breath back and clear his head, he asked, ‘Is your other daughter Kara?’
Les’s face visibly crumpled. ‘Yes, why? What’s the matter?’
With the pain, worry, and fear evident across Justin’s face, he felt his world had been jolted like a meteorite smacking him in the head. It was that karma thing: it had returned to kick him in the balls.
‘Jesus, Les, Kara was my girlfriend for years before I had to leave her because I got Lucy pregnant. I had no idea …’
All of a sudden, he remembered accusing Lucy of hating Kara some time ago. Everything was falling into place. Les was stunned into silence, just staring at Justin, as if he was dreaming.
‘What the fuck is going on, Les?’ He choked on the words.
Les pulled Justin to his feet and guided him back to the living room. ‘Let me get you a drink. Would you prefer brandy or tea?’
‘I think I need a coffee to wake me up. This is all like a fucking nightmare.’
As Les left the room to make the drinks, Justin called the hospital to make sure his son was all right and to warn the nurses to keep a close eye. He was convinced now that his mum was right: Lucy had been lying to him about her visits to Ben. Luckily, the nurse on duty assured him that little Ben was fine and that Mollie was there for her nightly visit. Justin should have been angry because he’d told her to stay away, but now, he was relieved. He had to know the truth. ‘Do you know if my wife ever visits Ben?’
There was a short pause. ‘Sorry, Justin, but she doesn’t. It’s been a concern and I was going to have a word with you about it.’
‘Thank you,’ was all he could say before he ended the call.
As he absorbed his surroundings, he thought his initial feeling of the house being too depressing for a child to live in was ill-judged. He realised that the house’s empty, loveless soul was not the fault of Les, but of his daughter. That same daughter had drawn him in with her web of deceit. He wandered back to the hallway to look at the other photos, and there, sure enough, was Lucy as a little girl, dressed in beautiful frilly clothes and playing happily with her toys. There were no pictures of her living in a sad, destitute home. He looked around again and realised that although the house was worn and tired it was, in fact, clean. Les was obviously just skint. The television set was such an old model, he would be surprised if it even worked.
Les returned with a mug of coffee and gave Justin a sorrowful smile. ‘Take the weight off ya feet, mate. Let’s get this cleared up, shall we?’
Justin sighed. ‘It’s all a bloody mess, Les. I was with Kara, and then, stupidly, I ended up with Lucy. Now, it appears, I don’t even know her.’
‘What’s Kara like, Justin? I haven’t seen her since she was a baby. Her mother still wrote to me every so often, until she moved to Australia. After that, I never heard much from her.’
An unexpected tear escaped Justin’s eye. ‘You’ve no idea, Les. She is wonderful, so sweet and gentle, so kind and loving, and beautiful, I mean naturally beautiful, but she is clever too, a real brainbox … Christ, what have I done?’
The look on Les’s face said it all. His smile broadened, and that expression transformed the man into someone thirty years younger. In fact, he could see where many of Kara’s attractive features came from. He’d been a vibrant, handsome man in his day, no question.
‘You still love her, then?’
‘I never stopped loving her. I just had to force myself to … fucking hell, Les, I got angry with her, when I saw her in the hospital. All because she didn’t care for me anymore. What a tosser, I’ve been.’
‘Hospital? Is she all right?’
‘Yes, she is. Well, actually, no. I mean, she’s in prison for burning the house down, but she was in hospital because she had our daughter, little Denise Rose. My God, she’s been to hell and back, and then, having to deal with her mother, who sadly …’ He paused for a moment, realising he was going to deliver bad news. Accordingly, he softened his tone. ‘Les, I’ve some dreadful news for you, I’m afraid. Joan passed away several months ago.’
Les placed his mug of coffee on the small side table and covered his face. Justin watched the heavily built man’s shoulders move up and down, as he quietly sobbed. Feeling his own world completely crumbling around him, with so much pain and misery, he conceded that it was all connected to him. For a second, he wanted to run and leave the man to cry alone because he couldn’t bear to watch anyone hurting. These last months, he’d seen enough pain to last a lifetime. However, he had to know more about Lucy. Who the hell was he married to, and, more to the point, what was she capable of?
‘Les, Lucy said you locked her in a metal cabinet. Why would she say that?’
As Les moved his hands away from his face, Justin could see his eyes were locked in sadness.
Without a word, Les rose from his chair and beckoned with his head for Justin to follow. They went through the kitchen to a door on the side that led to the garage. Les fiddled with the keys and pushed open the door. There on the back wall of the garage was indeed a metal cabinet, although it was too small for even a child to be shoved inside. Justin looked enquiringly at Les, who just shook his head. He opened the cabinet door and pointed to the doll that was there. ‘She even had the social services check me out, saying that I would lock her in there. I never did, but when she was bad, and believe me she was bad, I would lock her toys away.’
‘Tell me, Les, what about this Carl guy? She convinced me he raped her.’
‘Carl rape her? No way! Carl was her saviour. By the time she was fifteen, she was sleeping around, and then she got hooked on drugs. I didn’t know much about drugs meself, see, but Carl did. I was at my fucking wits’ end. I was working for Carl at the time. One night, we were all playing cards, as we did most Wednesdays, a regular poker night, when in she came, dressed like a fucking hooker and with make-up slapped all over her face. She was acting like a tart, flirting in front of Carl. It was embarrassing. I remember Carl shaking his head. He said it was such a shame. I suppose he was fed up with seeing me out of my mind with worry.
‘I remember he dragged her upstairs and gave her a good talking-to. Ya see, Carl wasn’t a paragon of virtue, not by any stretch of the imagination. On the contrary. If the truth be known, he used to run a whorehouse, but it wasn’t like you would imagine. He took girls off the streets and put them in his flats. Sounds bad, doesn’t it? But, ya see, he wasn’t a cruel fella. Anyway, he told her that she would end up dead, if she carried on. The little bitch never listened, though. She would dress up like a real slapper every Wednesday and skip around him like a dog on heat. In the end, he stopped coming around to play cards.’
‘But she said she was fifteen, when he raped her,’ retorte
d Justin, not wanting to believe Lucy had lied.
‘It pains me to say it, Justin, and it still turns my stomach to this day, but when Lucy was fourteen, the police dragged her home. She was caught selling herself like a common tom on the streets. I asked myself every day what the hell I’d done wrong. How could my little girl become so bloody wayward? I mean, she never went without. I took her to school every day, I did my best, but it wasn’t good enough. She stole from me; she would lay into me with her fists and call me disgusting names. I should have told the truth back then and had her locked away.
‘But Carl came to the rescue. He offered a flat of her own, away from me. She was older then and had got herself into all sorts of bad stuff. She was making money on the streets. I knew she wouldn’t stop, but Carl was always keeping an eye on her. So when she took up escort work, Carl spoke to the agency without her knowledge because he wanted to vet all her punters. I know that sounds bad, but it was either that or have her standing under some lamppost in London for any old Tom, Dick, or Harry to take her away and do God knows what.’
Justin let out a long, deep sigh and looked up at the ceiling. ‘Fuck me! So my wife is a prostitute? My son probably isn’t even mine.’
‘You weren’t the first and you won’t be the last.’
‘She’s done this before?’ gasped Justin, incredulously.
‘Yes, she claimed that the little girl of hers was the result of having sex with Carl. But he’s adamant that Lucy drugged him the night he was with her. He told me himself. She gave him Rohypnol, or whatever it’s called, but he was unaware of this when he woke up in the morning, after she’d boasted about a night of passion they’d enjoyed. Then, a month later, she announced she was pregnant.’
Maybe Lucy did the same to him. She could have drugged him and led him to believe he was the one who came on to her, and like an idiot, he fell for it. But the guilt veiled his mind like a black demon sucking the energy out of him. How could he tell Les, who obviously cared for Carl, that he’d run him over and nearly killed him? Justin jumped from his chair. ‘I have to go, Les. I have something to do.’