by Linda Huber
‘I’m afraid that’s our policy,’ said the receptionist or whoever he was speaking to. ‘We can’t tell just anyone who’s here and who’s not. You’ll understand that security has to be our first responsibility.’
Jeff did understand, but it was still annoying. He sat for a moment, clutching his head in both hands. His headache was gone, but there was a peculiar kind of tightness across his forehead. Was he getting migraines now? All this stress, it wasn’t fair – what had he ever done to deserve all this? He forced himself to think about the baby again.
So, what now? He still didn’t know if Sharon was in hospital or on holiday. Or – could she be at home, with Craig looking after her there? Jeff turned back to the laptop. Thank goodness for online directories, and just please God they were in it. Yes, they were. Riverside Gardens, very nice.
He punched out the number and let the ringtone shrill through his head twenty-two times before breaking the connection. Nothing was going right this morning.
Sharon must be in the hospital. He would go there and search until he found her – there couldn’t be that many women in the maternity ward. Surely Sharon would be pleased to know her – was it a son or a daughter? – had a new loving… friend. And Caro would leave him soon if he didn’t get her a baby, he could sense it. She wasn’t his Caro any longer, and he wasn’t her Jeff; they had turned into different people. But having a baby would help them. People did change when they became parents, so it didn’t matter that he and Caro had changed already. The baby would bring them back together. Their little boy or girl. Jeff smiled fondly. It was going to be such fun.
His and Caro’s baby had been born. Sharon would be so glad to have her life back again. He knew she would.
Julie
Julie waved as the last of the ‘Under-Three Story Club’ kids left the library, all accompanied by smiling mums, who’d just had an hour and a half to themselves. The group had been her idea and it had been well-attended right from the start. Even if it was a glorified babysitting service, it got the kids and their families into the library and borrowing books. It was also the most intensive hour and a half of the week. Time to make coffee; she’d earned one.
Dee came in as the first cup was ready, and Julie pushed it over the table.
‘Here,’ she said, starting the machine again. ‘Your reward for having Sam and Amy yesterday.’
Dee sat down and sipped. ‘Wasn’t a problem. Amy was a joy, and Sam chattered away the whole time about having actually sat in a police car.’
Julie grinned, then bit her lip.
Dee pounced. ‘What’s up? I got the impression you had a great time with Max?’
Julie giggled. ‘We had a wonderful time. Except Sam monopolised the whole thing. We had lunch in McDonalds and Sam asked Max questions about the police, then we had a walk in the park and Sam asked Max more questions, and then we sat in the police car and talked about Max’s arrests and his weapons training, and Sam couldn’t get his questions out fast enough. He had a ball, but Max and I barely exchanged three words. Mind you – I really don’t know if I’m ready to start anything new yet.’
‘Better make sure you have Sam with you at all times, then,’ said Dee, laughing.
‘I guess. Oh, I’m going to see Sharon again this afternoon. I’ll take her the baby massage book.’
‘Well done, a new customer. And Julie – if you ever want to talk things through, just say the word.’
Julie sipped her coffee. Dee was a good friend. ‘Thanks.’
The rest of the morning passed swiftly and Julie was surprised to see it was twelve when she finished unpacking the latest consignment of new books. Lunchtime already.
A glance in the staffroom mirror revealed that the sneezing fit and accompanying watery eyes when she was emptying the dusty box of books hadn’t done her appearance any good at all. Julie grabbed her handbag and went into the loo to repair the damage.
‘Hello? Anyone here?’
A deep voice came from the desk and Julie froze. It was Max. She couldn’t go out there, not looking like this. She could sort her face, but her grubby clothes were a different story. She didn’t want him to see her in this state. Hardly daring to breathe, she listened as Max spoke to Dee.
‘I’ve got some photos here for you and your staff to look at. They’re all more or less local kids with drug problems of different kinds. You might have seen some of them hanging around.’
A rustling noise told Julie that the photos were being removed from their envelope while Dee spoke. ‘The others are all at lunch. I’ll get back to you, shall I? Oh, and I’m told you made a small boy’s day yesterday.’
Julie could hear the grin in Max’s voice. ‘Reminded me of when I was a small boy myself.’
Julie’s heart melted. Oh, he was nice. Not to mention good-looking. And not a hint of a leading question about her and the kids, so he was discreet, too.
Dee was apparently still looking at the photos. ‘They’re all complete strangers to me, I’m afraid.’
‘Okay. Let me know if anyone else recognises any of them, will you? I’ll collect them later. And say hello to Julie from me. I’m sorry I missed her.’
Firm footsteps told Julie that Max was leaving the building, and she crept back out. Dee was taking a large brown envelope into the staffroom.
‘Julie, my lamb, that is one very nice young man,’ she said severely.
‘You think I should grab him with both hands, don’t you?’
A wry smile passed over Dee’s face and Julie sighed.
‘Maybe I will. Soon.’
Caro
It was lunchtime before Caro heard the news. She listened every day now; the local radio station had short bulletins every half hour and longer ones on the hour. She wanted to hear something – anything, about the boy who was presumably still in hospital after the break-in at the library. How was she to find out if he was the same boy who’d accosted her about the ecstasy tablets last week? Because if he was, did that make her a – what did they call it? – an ‘accessory after the fact’? Her gut twisted every time she thought about how she’d thrown those pills at his feet. That one thoughtless, truculent action could have harmed another human being irreparably. It was a horrible feeling, and the only way to get rid of it was to find out if they were two different boys. The local radio seemed a likely place to have the info, so as soon as Louise left to buy them both a sandwich in the shop across the road, Caro turned the sound up. There wouldn’t be anything, though. There never was.
But today was different. As usual, the newsreader gave out the traffic situation first and then continued. ‘The eighteen-year-old man who was hospitalised after taking an overdose of ecstasy during a break-in at Bridgehead Public Library last week, died in Bridgehead General Hospital this morning. Police are still looking for those who vandalised the library late last Tuesday evening or early Wednesday morning. Members of the public who may have seen or heard anything, or who have any relevant information about the case, are asked to call Bridgehead Police at 0800 470586, or any other police station… Bridgehead Town Council has…’
Caro snapped the radio off, her hand shaking. He was dead, that boy. If it was that boy. While she’d been having breakfast this morning or worrying about Jeff or sitting on the bus, the boy had died. It wasn’t just an overdose any more. She could be to blame for his death. Caro buried her face in her hands. What was she to do? She couldn’t live with herself, not knowing if she had played any part in his death. Maybe his picture would be in the papers tomorrow. Or maybe not, there had been virtually nothing about him up until now; that was unlikely to change now he was dead.
She could still go to the police, of course. They’d know what he looked like. But would they tell her? She had no right to know. And suppose those women who’d seen her fling the pills back at the boy had already reported it? She might be arrested on the spot, if she turned up at the police station now. What happened to people who withheld information – was it really ill
egal?
Caro choked back a sob, wishing with all her heart that she was knowledgeable about the law and what happened in situations like this. She’d never had any dealings with the police – hell, she’d never even had a parking ticket. And there was no one she could ask to help her with this. How she missed the feeling of Jeff being there for her, looking after her.
He’d been so strange these past few days. Hyper one minute, and then totally down the next, or else away in a dream, ignoring the world around him. Maybe it was his way of coping with their bad news, or maybe he sensed too that their marriage was doomed.
Caro folded her arms across her middle and gripped her elbows, trying to hug herself back to normality. But normal would never happen again. What with the grief about the no-baby, the worry about the boy and Jeff’s strangeness, there was so much bad stuff going on in her life right now she didn’t at all know how she was coping. Actually, she wasn’t coping. She had never felt so alone. What was she going to do?
‘Here we are. Tuna mayo on wholemeal for you, prawn cocktail for me, and they had some mini Danish pastries so I got a couple of those, too.’ Louise breezed back into the salesroom and dumped a brown bag on Caro’s desk. ‘I’ll get the bottles from the fridge. We can take the phone with us and go around the back to eat – it’s lovely out today.’
Slowly, Caro gathered up her lunch bag and followed Louise out to the patch of ground behind the salesroom. It was a real suntrap, protected by buildings on all four sides. No breath of wind ever ventured here, and in July and August it was frequently too hot for comfort.
Louise was chattering away about her trip round the Royal Yacht yesterday, and Caro sat down heavily on the wall across the back of the yard, lifting her face to the sun and letting the words wash over her head. Louise was right, it was a beautiful day. And an eighteen-year-old boy was lying naked and cold on a mortuary slab; never again would he feel the warmth of the summer sun on his face, never again would he laugh or cry or… And she might be partly to blame. The thought made Caro feel sick. Somehow, she would have to find out who he was.
Maybe he had friends she could ask. That was a good idea, yes… Caro took a deep breath, relief and hope lightening her day. She would go back to the place she had seen him and look around for other kids, and she would go today. The boss was away all afternoon, and Lou wouldn’t mind if she left half an hour early. And if that didn’t work, she could always go to the dead boy’s funeral. It would be in the ‘deaths’ section of tomorrow’s paper, wouldn’t it? She might be able to talk to someone there, and people often had photos on the order of service at funerals, too. One way or the other, she was bound to find out something soon.
The High Street was at its busiest at half past five when Caro walked along in the direction of her meeting with the boy the previous week. She rushed past Cybersonics on the other side of the road, not daring to look across in case Jeff was there and saw her. She didn’t have the strength to talk to him now, because if he was acting strangely again she would have to worry about that too.
‘I don’t know Jeff anymore and I don’t know myself either. I just want out of this marriage.’ The thought was as clear in Caro’s mind as if she’d spoken aloud, and tears sprang into her eyes. She’d been so happy at the start of the relationship, full of plans for her new family life. But now they had the no-baby, an enormous hurdle bang in the middle of her world, and it had changed everything. So maybe the happiness had only been superficial – it was easy to smile when things were going well.
The weird thing was, if there had been a baby, then she and Jeff would still be happy together, revelling in their child and probably planning another. The child that didn’t exist, that never would, had changed her whole life. Did that make her a completely shallow person? Some uncaring, scheming woman who abandoned her relationship because she wasn’t getting her own way? But what was happening to her now was too much to bear.
Today there was no shout behind her from Cybersonics, and Caro breathed again. Okay. Here was the Puff Pastry where she’d bought her lunch on the day she met the boy, and round here was Mortimer Square with the flower tubs and benches.
She stood still, her eyes tracking round the square. There were no lunchers now, of course. Two elderly women were sitting comparing purchases nearby, and a group of teenage girls were sprawled over a couple of benches at the other side, talking and giggling and playing with their phones. Nostalgia rose in Caro’s heart and she blinked. Teen culture. It didn’t seem long since she’d done something very similar after school every day. She walked round the square as slowly as she could, but no boys or youths were lurking today. Maybe she could ask those girls if they knew anything about the boy who had died. Caro hesitated. No. They were younger, thirteen or fourteen by the look of them. She’d only be setting herself up for an earful of abuse if she asked them.
It was on her second round of the square that she noticed the boy, and her breath caught in her throat. That was – hell, yes, that was Liam. Her brother’s boy. He was sitting on the steps of an entrance close further down the square from the old family home, hunched over what looked like an exercise book, two years older than he’d been when she last saw him, but definitely her nephew.
Caro’s mouth went dry. Pete and his family must still be in the area, then. Liam hadn’t seen her; maybe she should just go… Pete had been the brother from hell when they were growing up, always mocking her and her sister, and not above the odd nip or slap. Both Caro and Rosie had left home as soon as they could, and avoided Pete as much as possible afterwards. When she met Jeff, Caro had dropped her brother – and his family – altogether. Jeff had never even met him.
Liam looked up and their eyes met. He was small, with a shock of dark hair and a solemn, pale face. Reluctantly, Caro walked across. If he lived here, he might be able to help her.
‘Hi, Liam. Remember me?’ He would be about ten now, maybe nine…
The boy nodded. ‘Auntie Caro.’ He stared at her indifferently, not getting up from his stony seat on the step.
‘That’s right,’ said Caro, awkwardly. ‘Um, do you live here now?’
Liam shook his head. ‘Dad’s away on the lorry a lot so I stay here with Alfie and his mum and dad till he gets back.’
Caro frowned. Pete must have traded in his job as a bus driver, but why wasn’t Liam’s mother looking after him? ‘Where’s your mum, then?’
He sniffed. ‘She left a long time ago.’
Resentment robbed Caro of speech for a moment. How could a woman leave her child like that? She pulled herself together and nodded at the book on Liam’s thin knees.
‘Doing your homework?’
He blinked up at her, his mouth turned down. ‘It’s maths. I’m rubbish at it and there’s no-one to help when Dad’s away.’
Caro crouched down. This might not be a good idea, but by the looks of things, she wasn’t the only one in this conversation having a bad time. ‘Maybe I can help – I’m good at maths.’
Liam sniffed. ‘There’s this test tomorrow and I’ve forgotten how to do these.’ He handed over the book.
Caro peered at the page, which contained six problems involving boxes of different items, then perched beside him on the step. ‘Look – you’re going wrong in the last part here. You have to find the number of pencils in four boxes, so you multiply by four. Then you add the extra pencils to that number and that’s your answer. See? Like here, one box has fifteen pencils, so four boxes have…?’
‘Sixty,’ said Liam, after a few seconds. ‘Plus five is sixty-five!’
‘Good! You try the others now.’
The young face had brightened by about five hundred percent, and Caro laughed, in spite of her gloomy mood. Liam changed his answers and handed the book back.
‘Correct!’
‘Can you look at these ones as well?’ He turned to the previous page.
Caro checked and corrected there too and he beamed. His face looked different when he smiled, and she
cursed both Pete and Laura for leaving their son to fend for himself like this. She stood up again, rubbing her numb backside.
Liam’s entire posture was more relaxed now and warmth flooded through Caro. She had helped one child, no matter what had happened to the other boy. It was the best feeling she’d had for weeks.
‘Liam, I’m looking for a boy I saw here last week. Older than you, and he’s white with bleached hair. I need to find him.’
If only he was still alive to be found…
Liam shrugged.
Caro tried again. ‘It’s a bit complicated, but I really need to know he’s okay.’
‘Who’s that, Liam?’
Another boy appeared out of the building; a child of five or six, his voice hoarse and his nose in need of a wipe.
‘A lady. Get back in, Alfie. Your Mam’ll be mad if you’re out when she comes home.’
Caro dug in her pocket for a packet of tissues and held one out to Alfie. ‘Have a nose-wipe,’ she said, trying not to sound shocked. Was no one looking after this poor little soul? Not to mention looking after her nephew. It was difficult to know what she should do. If she should do anything…
Alfie took the tissue without a word and scrubbed his nose with it.
‘Is your mam still at work, then?’ said Caro, stepping closer and handing the whole packet of tissues to the younger child. His eyes were shiny and feverish.
‘She always works till after tea,’ he said, sniffing.
Caro nodded, pity piercing her heart. ‘Well, Liam’s right. You should be inside. And you should be drinking lots. It looks to me like you’ve got a temperature. You should have a big glass of water, or something.’
She stopped. She couldn’t interfere with Alfie. Even to Liam, she was all but a stranger.
Liam stood up. ‘Come on, then,’ he said to Alfie. ‘You heard what she said.’