She flashed a warning look from him to Daniel.
“When did it start?”
“A few days ago. I think it’s just ’cos we’re back in Manchester. But I’m not having as many as last time. I’m sure they’ll go once we’re home.”
“You should have told me, Rita.”
“I didn’t want to make a fuss. It was bound to happen when you think about it; it was traumatic when all’s said and done.”
“Mummy, what’s drawmatic?” asked Daniel.
“Nothing, Love. It’s just grown-up talk. Nothing for you to worry about.” She glared at Yansis.
“OK,” he said. “We’ll talk about it later.”
***
Saturday 15th June 1996 - Morning
Maurice picked up one of the soft toys he had arranged in a neat line on the upstairs landing: a white cuddly bear. He put it inside a plastic carrier bag before leaving his house. It was three days since he moved into his new abode and, while it wasn’t ideal, it was an improvement on the place he had called home for the past few years.
The house was bereft of furniture, apart from a few items, and other comforts were lacking. Still, that would come in time but, for now, he would seek his comforts outside the home.
He decided to go to the local park. Maurice had already found out where it was by asking his neighbour, on the pretence of wanting to take his niece when she came to visit. As he walked through the streets, he noticed how run-down the estate was. Front doors opened onto homes that emitted malodorous stenches.
Although it was still only around 9 a.m., a few of the doors were left unlocked so restless young children could pass in and out without disturbing their parents. He caught sight of the interior of one such dwelling, the paint stained and peeling and the wallpaper torn.
An overweight woman with bleached blonde hair and dark roots was sitting inside the property, facing outwards, on the pretence of watching the kids, he supposed. She was smoking a roll-up and chuckling at something indoors that was amusing her and was commanding far more of her attention than her children. He watched the tatty little urchins playing outside; aged no more than four and roaming in and out of the house at will. You’d think their parents would be more careful.
On the way to the park he passed by the local supermarket, situated on a small shopping precinct where, later in the day, youths hung about in gangs, clowning around and causing a nuisance. Naturally cautious near groups of young males, he would always stiffen on approaching them.
Relief flooded through him when he saw that there were no youths hanging around. At this time in the morning they would still be in bed. For now it should be relatively safe to venture out for his shopping, and he made a mental note to collect a few items on his way back. He couldn’t help but wonder how different things would be if people ever found out about his history.
As he progressed through the precinct, Maurice encountered occasional globules of yellowy green mucus stuck to the ground. Its consistency was so thick and slimy that it took several downpours of rain to wash it away. Catarrh: a product of pollution, cheap cigarettes and poor diet.
Maurice trudged along, kicking up greasy paper wrappings that had spilt from the overflowing bin outside the fish and chip shop. The wind had blown litter against a small wall surrounding a bogus raised border. Its upper area was now a failed garden full of barren bushes, downtrodden weeds, cigarette butts and the occasional used condom. Among the litter, flies fed hungrily on dog faeces and discarded chips spilling from a carton.
He continued on past the end shop, a bookie’s. Curiosity made him glance inside; it was the busiest shop on the precinct, crowded, dark and fuggy with the haze of exhaled cigarette smoke and cannabis hanging in the air.
This was his sort of area: a place where the menacing and the vulnerable co-existed.
As he moved away from the precinct, the roads became wider and busier. Many of the run-down houses gave way to other buildings: pubs, car showrooms and warehouses. After walking for ten more minutes he spotted it: a verdant oasis amongst the urban decay. He felt the thrill of excitement pulsate through him in anticipation.
A new park. New opportunities. New challenges. He took his seat on a bench, which he had selected for its prime view of the children’s play area. And then he watched.
Two young girls in matching outfits played in the sandpit, chatting amicably in their make-believe world. He wondered if they were alone but doubted it. They were too clean, too polished. Girls in matching outfits didn’t come to the park alone, not like the kids he’d passed in the street who would be coming here unaccompanied as soon as they could find their way.
Further back from them a small boy took repeated turns on the slide, “Look at me, Mummy.”
A woman’s voice called back in response, and Maurice traced the location of the voice. It was coming from a lady who was sitting on the other side of the play area with a female friend. Soon enough, a playmate joined the boy. Maurice assumed he was the other woman’s son.
At the opposite end of the bench to the two women was an elderly lady, and Maurice wondered if she was looking after the two young girls. This was confirmed when one of them ran to the lady who gave her a carton of drink. There was only one other child in the playground. A man was pushing him on the swing; presumably he was his father.
None of the children in this park were alone apart from some much older children who were playing football on a nearby field. That fact surprised him, considering the feral state of the children he had passed on the estate, and he wondered whether there was another housing area somewhere close to the park.
While the old lady was occupied with one of the girls, the other girl continued making sandcastles and chattering to herself. Maurice withdrew the white teddy bear from his plastic bag and bounced it up and down on his knee. This gained the girl’s attention; the bright white of the bear’s fur distracted her and she looked up. Maurice smiled, and she wandered towards him, slowly at first but faster when Maurice took the bear’s paws between his fingers and mimed a dance for the little girl’s delectation.
“What’s he called?” she asked when she reached Maurice.
“Snowy,” said Maurice, “because he’s so white, and he likes dancing in the snow.”
He mimed another dance with the bear and the young girl rewarded him with a smile then put out her hand to stroke Snowy’s head.
“Can I play with him?”
“Only if you’re good.”
Before Maurice had a chance to elicit a further response from the girl, he was disturbed by the sound of the old lady shouting, “Jessica, Jessica, come back here!”
She trundled off and Maurice noticed the two other women peering over at him and whispering among themselves. He didn’t dash off straightaway. That would have been too obvious. It was far better to stay there for a few minutes as though waiting for someone. He feigned looking at his watch a few times. Then, when he thought it was safe to do so, he sneaked away.
He had only wanted to look; he couldn’t risk anything else. The trouble was there were always suspicious people about. He was just about to make his way home when a thought occurred to him. When his neighbour had described the park, he said it was near the hospital. Maurice ran through the neighbour’s directions in his head and decided to give it a shot. He could always check with a passer-by and make sure he was heading in the right direction.
Within a few minutes, Maurice reached Manchester General Hospital. It was nearer than he thought and easy to find. Once he arrived, Maurice made straight for paediatrics. He went through the doors and into the corridors surrounding the children’s ward with ease.
Maurice passed a couple of uniform-clad staff on the way, but they eyed the soft toy he was carrying and left him to go about his business. The only response he received was a look of pity from a lady as she passed him. She must have assumed he was the father of a sick child. Perfect! He didn’t know why he hadn’t thought of this before.
&n
bsp; Just outside the children’s ward was a quadrangle that he surmised was used as an outdoor play area for those children who were well enough. He positioned himself in the corridor, standing at a window overlooking the quadrangle.
Adjacent to the corridor, and on his left, was another corridor leading into the ward, and across from him was the children’s ward itself. On his right was an indoor play area, and from his position at the window he could see across the quadrangle and inside it.
Maurice remained there for good while, undisturbed. Staff came and went as well as parents with other youngsters who he assumed were the siblings of sick children.
While he stood there he practised looking forlorn. Occasionally someone would slow down on approaching him, their concern evident. When they did so, he would turn, head bowed and shoulders stooped, sniff and then turn back towards the window. In fact, when anybody came near, he would just adopt his saddest expression.
It was so easy. The soft toy made a convincing prop and, to anybody passing by, he was the heartbroken father of a very sick child. And nobody wanted to probe.
Eventually, he returned home. By that time the hospital was becoming busy, but Maurice assumed it was typical for a Saturday. He whistled to himself on his journey home. In a better mood than when he set off, he decided he would visit the children’s ward another day. It might be just the tonic he needed. In fact, he might even go tomorrow.
Chapter 7
Saturday 15th June 1996
When they approached the city centre, Rita told Yansis to head for Deansgate first. She was determined to show Yansis and Daniel as much of the centre of Manchester as they could manage in one day. Therefore, she decided that by parking the car near to Deansgate, they could work their way from there, down Market Street and onto the Arndale Centre. That would enable them to take in the shops along Deansgate and Market Street as well. Then, after stopping for some lunch, they could walk back again.
They turned left onto the Mancunian Way, skirting around the outside of the busiest part of the city centre. Finding their way to Deansgate was straightforward enough but finding a parking space was another matter.
Traffic was building up when they reached Deansgate and it was proving difficult to park anywhere near the city centre. Rita guessed that there must have been an accident when she spotted several ambulances. They eventually found somewhere to park but it was about a fifteen-minute walk from the shops.
As they walked into town they noticed a helicopter circling in the distance, and Rita knew that usually meant the police were surveying something. When they arrived at Kendal’s department store on Deansgate, they were surprised to see hordes of people milling around.
“I wonder what the hell’s going on,” said Rita. “There must be a march or a demonstration or summat.”
Noticing that there was a heavy presence of police and other emergency personnel, Rita glanced around her, curious.
“Hang on here a minute, I’m just gonna ask that copper what’s going on,” she said. “I’ll take you in Kendal’s after. You’ll love it in there.”
“It’s OK,” said Yansis. “Daniel wants to look in the windows anyway. It’s very nice.”
Rita smiled, watching her son point at something in Kendal’s shop window and pull Yansis closer. Unaccustomed to a big city, Daniel was fascinated by the huge displays, and she was enjoying seeing the wonder on his lovely little face.
She turned, about to make her way across the road towards the police officer on the other side. Then she overheard someone in the crowd say something about a bomb scare. This piqued her curiosity even more.
Rita was halfway across when an enormous bang rang in her ears. It was so loud that it shook the ground beneath her, throwing her off her feet. The nearby buildings seemed to shift. Then, silence as the city reeled from the shock.
The silence was soon broken by a huge cacophony. Alarms and sirens blaring. People screaming. Debris falling. And windows shattering. Emergency personnel barked swift orders into their radios.
Rita scrambled back to her feet and stood unsteadily. She gazed about her, trying to make sense of what had just happened.
All around, people were either wandering aimlessly or had collapsed on the street. Covered in blood and shards of glass, many were crying and screaming for help.
As small fragments of glass struck Rita’s face and arms, all she could think about was Yansis and Daniel who had been standing next to the shop window. She rushed towards them, stopping when she saw their frightened, bloody faces. Yansis was still holding Daniel’s hand but they were now on the ground. Daniel was crying out in distress.
“Oh my God!” shouted Rita as she made her way to them. “Are you OK?”
As it was a summer day, Yansis and Daniel were both wearing t-shirts and their arms, as well as their faces, were covered in blood.
“Help, we need some help!” urged Rita to a nearby security guard as she took in their appearance.
It was difficult to tell how badly cut they were; there was so much blood. The security guard seemed as stunned as they were. He was clutching the arm of an elderly lady who was weeping as a tide of crimson flowed down her face from a laceration to her head. Having led her from inside Kendal’s, he looked around him, dazed, as though unsure what to do next.
He failed to notice Rita speak. She searched for someone else who could help but the emergency staff were all busy. In desperation, she kneeled over Daniel and tried to assess his wounds herself. The largest amount of blood was coming from his right arm. She rifled through her handbag for something she could use, and withdrew some tissues.
“Daniel, I need you to stay calm while I take care of your arm,” she coaxed.
“Yes, do as mummy says,” said Yansis, wincing with pain as the effort of speech made him aware of several cuts to his face.
Although Rita dabbed gently at Daniel’s arm, he yelled, “No Mummy, it hurts!”
“I’m sorry love, try to be brave. I need to make it better.”
Her trembling hand hovered over his damaged limb again, “Think of something nice, Daniel. Pretend you’re on the beach at home.”
Despite his pain and distress, Daniel attempted to smile through his tears but his lips quivered. Rita cleaned up a lot of the blood revealing the worst of his wounds. It was a large open gash on his arm, which was pumping blood. She flinched as she caught sight of the raw, exposed flesh. She needed to close the wound. But what could she use? A tissue would break up and stick to it.
The thought of what she must do brought beads of sweat to Rita’s forehead. Daniel would hate her for this. But there was no time to waste. Before she could change her mind, she tore a strip from the bottom of her flimsy summer top. She then ripped it in two. Using one half of the cloth, she grabbed both edges of the wound and held them tightly together.
Daniel’s screams were heart-wrenching.
“Think of that beach love. Think of that beach. Sorry love, but it’ll get better soon, I promise.”
He writhed around, attempting to pull away, but Yansis helped to hold him firm. While grasping his wound, Rita held onto Daniel with her other hand, pulling him towards her. When he couldn’t get away, he sunk his head into Rita’s bosom where he howled with pain to the sound of Rita’s thundering heartbeat.
Rita stemmed the flow of blood. She then used the remaining cloth to form a tourniquet, which she tied around Daniel’s arm.
“There, it’s done now, love,” she said, planting a kiss on the top of his head.
“But it still hurts, Mummy,” Daniel cried.
“I know, but we’ll get some help soon. We’ll find someone who can make it better.”
She had been so preoccupied with Daniel that she hadn’t examined Yansis’s wounds properly. As she cuddled Daniel, she took a look at Yansis. Thankfully, his cuts didn’t seem as deep as the one on Daniel’s arm.
“What about you Rita? Are you cut badly?” asked Yansis.
“No, not too bad,” she sai
d, taking a quick glance at herself.
Suddenly, a noise from the building next to them drew their attention. They dashed out of the way, and Yansis swerved to avoid a piece of falling debris, which missed him by centimetres. Rita watched in horror as it crashed to the ground, shattering into tiny fragments. She was glad that Yansis’s jeans protected his legs from the ricochet.
“Jesus! That was close. We need to get away from here,” she said.
“No. Wait, Rita,” said Yansis. “We don’t know if it is safe. There may be other bombs.”
A rush of fear seized her, and Rita could feel her heart thumping. As she observed the chaotic scene in the blood-soaked street, a feeling of panic threatened to overwhelm her. But she held it together, for Daniel.
It seemed to take forever until they could get anyone to help them. In the meantime, they tried to comfort Daniel. After a while, a police officer came to assess them. He told them to walk further up Deansgate where they would find ambulances ready to ferry injured people to hospital. Shaken from the event, they acted on the police officer’s instructions. It wasn’t so much a walk as a stagger because they were all still in a state of shock.
The air soon became dusty, which affected Daniel’s asthma and he started coughing. Rita searched frantically inside her bag for his nebuhaler, before remembering they had left it in the car because it was too cumbersome to carry around.
As though sensing they didn’t have his nebuhaler handy, Daniel soon became distressed and was panting for breath. Rita and Yansis stopped to give him a chance to get his breath back.
“Come on now, Daniel. Take deep breaths,” said Rita, trying to keep Daniel calm. She glanced ahead, noticing the bank of ambulances in the distance. Realising that they were still some way off, she was finding it difficult to keep her own composure. The sight of Daniel panting and wheezing was upsetting.
“Come on, Daniel, nice big breaths,” she repeated, but the uncertainty in her voice belied the encouragement she was trying to give Daniel.
“Like this, Daniel,” said Yansis.
Danger by Association: The Riverhill Trilogy: Book 3 Page 5