The Accusation

by Zosia Wand

  Shona’s paperwork slid from her lap to the floor as she jumped up. The file has fallen open and there are sheets of paper all around it. My mother bends down and retrieves the statement. I close my eyes.

  Shona fetches me a glass of water. I’m aware of the other two women moving about. Someone wipes my forehead and chin with a damp cloth. I’m incapable of doing anything for myself.

  When I’ve stopped shaking I ask to see the rest of the statement. She has proof. I cannot hide from this now. Written proof. Mum passes it to me, silently. She rests her hand on my shoulder. I swallow. The sour taste of vomit lingers in my throat. I try to clear it. I take a sip of water from the glass Shona has left on the coffee table beside me. She’s sat back down and arranged her papers in a neat pile on the sofa beside her. Her hands are trembling. I start to read, ‘We did our best to support Tina, of course, but her character had been changed by the incident and she refused to communicate with us about it.’ I imagine Tina, a girl of fifteen. ‘I believe she was deeply ashamed.’

  Shame.

  This is what I feel now. The reviewing officer’s eyes are on me. Helen. Shona. Hot, burning shame.

  ‘In late July 1991, some months after the incident, Tina left home. She contacted us to let us know she was safe, but wanted no further communication with us. We have not heard from her since. Neil Wright…’ I stare at the word in front of me. Five letters. Individually harmless, together they scream from the page. I read the word but my voice won’t work. I take a breath, try again. My voice cracks but I force myself on, ‘… raped my teenage daughter and destroyed our family. This is my true and accurate account of what happened. Vincent Lord.’ At the bottom, beneath the type, is a heavy signature scratched into the page.

  The room is silent. Mum is stroking my back.

  Neil. My Neil. Eighteen years old. Reaching down into the pool to pull me up. Those eyes looking right into mine, as if he could see inside me, as if nothing outside that moment, that connection, mattered. His shy smile. He wouldn’t. He couldn’t.

  Rape.

  Tina Lord fell pregnant. Fell. Such a soft word. An accident. Involuntary. But there’s nothing soft, nothing accidental, nor involuntary about rape. Rape is brutal, determined, ugly.

  A child. Neil is the father of a child. A child born of rape? Somewhere out there is his son. An adult now. Does he know? Or has Tina kept her secret all these years? I shudder.

  Shona is watching me. She holds out her hand for the statement. She has to lean right over to reach it. I wait while she scans the text. Is she checking that I’ve read it all? Is there anything I could have missed? Isn’t it damning enough?

  She looks up at me over her glasses. ‘We have to take this seriously.’ The reviewing officer is nodding her head.

  Mum’s voice is prim, sharp. ‘Of course you do.’

  Helen’s gaping. It must be like some awful soap opera unfolding in front of her eyes. She’ll go home and talk about this. ‘That couple, you know, the teacher and the one who works at the park, with the nice house – you’ll never guess!’

  Shona glances at her watch. ‘Do you know how long Neil will be?’

  Mum shrugs. ‘You think he’s going to be able to defend himself against this?’

  ‘He has a right to hear any allegation made against him. It’s only fair.’

  ‘Fair? What’s fair got to do with it? You think this is fair?’ She squeezes my shoulder. ‘My daughter lied to, trapped in this nightmare?’

  Shona’s voice is low, deliberate. ‘He’s with Milly.’

  Milly. Neil and Milly in the garden building the lantern. Milly on Neil’s shoulders watching the dancing pigs. Neil leaning over the bath, gently squeezing the sponge, dribbling warm soapy water down Milly’s naked back, his chin resting on her head, eyes closed, breathing her in. I say, ‘She’s safe,’ and I know this is true. Whatever else has happened I know. ‘He wouldn’t. He couldn’t. He isn’t that man.’

  My mother grunts. But she doesn’t know him. Black and white and nothing grey between.

  Shona nods, but her lip is caught beneath her tooth and she’s frowning. She glances at the reviewing officer and Helen, then her watch. She’s worried. I say, ‘I’ll call him.’

  Mum snaps, ‘Don’t bring him back here.’

  ‘This is his home.’

  ‘After what he’s done?’

  Shona takes my hand. No reassuring squeeze, no suggestion that she can make this right, but something is communicated, a thin thread of something that I refuse to define, because I need it to be hope. Shona’s voice is serious, professional. ‘This is now a child protection issue. I’m sorry, Eve. We need to refer it immediately. There are strict procedures we must follow.’

  ‘What does that mean?’

  ‘I have to phone the Safeguarding Hub now. Do you mind if I use the kitchen to make the call?’

  Mum answers, ‘You can make the call right here.’

  ‘I’d rather do it privately, if you don’t mind.’

  I nod. ‘You can use the kitchen.’

  ‘Thank you. And if you could call Neil?’ I feel for my phone. ‘And if you could just ask him to come home. Don’t mention…’ She glances at Mum and then back at me. ‘We just need him to come back with Milly as soon as possible.’

  She wants me to keep this from him. She wants me to speak to him but not tell him our world has exploded. Whatever it is that happened all those years ago has landed in the centre of our lives and erupted and my head is ringing, the debris still flying through the air, and I have to pretend none of that’s happening, because I need to lure him back. I must get Milly back. Because Shona’s afraid that Milly isn’t safe with Neil. That Neil might… I squeeze my eyes shut, as if this will somehow stop these thoughts.

  The world has slipped off its axis and everything’s falling. I’ve nothing to grip hold of. I lean back and stare at the ceiling, follow the fine cracks in the plaster, paths that lead nowhere. How do I navigate my way out of this? Who do I follow? I can feel myself lurching in one direction and pull myself back, only to fall the other way. I close my eyes, trying to steady myself. I’m Little Red Riding Hood, lost in the forest. My stomach is in my throat. Everything that was familiar is now unfamiliar. Which path to safety? What was it Mum used to say? If you’re lost, stay still and wait. Stay still and wait. Stay still and wait.

  I lose all sense of time. I hear Mum saying we need to phone Neil, but I can’t open my eyes. I hear her take my phone. I hear her tell him in that tight little voice that he needs to come back with Milly, immediately. He’ll be worried. He’ll think something’s happened to me. Something has happened to me.

  When Shona comes back into the room, Mum is sitting in the armchair. The reviewing officer and Helen are going through their paperwork. All that was settled has been unsettled. The life we were about to embark on is drifting away from me, becoming blurred as the distance increases. I’m still on the sofa, pressed back into the cushions, my body taut. Shona has sheets of notes, scribbled in her loose, curling script. She sits down beside me. I feel her hand on my knee and look into her eyes. Brown eyes. Dark lashes. I try to picture her before her hair turned white. Did she wear it long when she was younger? Did she dye it when it first began to lose its colour? My mind is leaping from this to that. She’s watching me, concerned. This is serious. This is really serious now. She gives a little nod, which is a question. She’s asking if I can go on. I don’t know the answer to that, but I do know that I have no choice.

  She looks down at the notes and clears her throat. ‘I need to talk you through what’s happening.’

  My mother responds curtly, ‘Please do.’

  Shona pauses. She gives Mum a cold stare. ‘I have to say, Mrs Leonard, that given the nature of this allegation, allowing Neil to leave with Milly does seem rather odd. You felt no need to stop him leaving the house, unsupervised, with your granddaughter?’

  She wasn’t thinking about Milly, she was thinking about me. This is nothin
g to do with Milly. Mum knows that. I know that. Neil would never do anything to harm Milly.

  Shona turns back to me. ‘The matter has now been referred to the Safeguarding Hub.’ She gives the reviewing officer a nod and looks at Mum. ‘You have the right to remain anonymous—’

  ‘I have nothing to hide.’

  ‘The Hub—’

  Mum interrupts, ‘What is this “hub”?’

  ‘The Hub is multi-agency; a group of identified professionals who are able to check all the relevant agencies – health, education, to see if the family are known—’

  ‘Which family? Not our family,’ Mum sniffs. ‘Our family has never had cause to be investigated for any misconduct.’

  ‘Nevertheless, we have a duty, to Milly, to investigate this thoroughly.’

  ‘You’ll be wasting your time.’

  Shona looks down at her notes. She breathes deep. I can almost hear her counting. She swallows and looks up. ‘We’ll talk to the police, see if there are any previous involvements with any agencies and check to see if there is a police record of this incident.’

  ‘It wasn’t reported at the time. I’ve told you that.’

  Shona shifts her body around in her seat to look directly at me. Her voice is gentle, kind. She’s trying to reassure me. ‘We know Neil, as a teacher, has been DBS checked and nothing came up in our adoption checks.’ It’s small comfort, but it is something. Shona doesn’t want this to be true. Shona’s our friend. She knows us. She knows Neil. ‘The Hub will make a decision as to whether to take this further. If there is no evidence of a sexual offence—’

  ‘I have given you evidence!’ Mum snaps.

  ‘An accusation is not evidence.’

  ‘It’s a signed statement by the father of the girl who was assaulted.’

  ‘Nevertheless, it is simply his word.’

  ‘That’s outrageous!’

  Shona takes a breath as if she’s about to respond, but stops. She looks steadily at Mum and sighs, looks back down at her notes. The reviewing officer and Helen sit silent, either side of her. ‘You will be informed, in writing, that a referral has been made and the matter will be investigated immediately.’ She pauses, shifts a little closer to me. ‘If no further action needs to be taken it could be a week from referral to closing. They work quickly.’

  Mum’s voice slices the air between us. ‘And what about him? What happens to him now? He can’t stay here. He’s a threat to that child. Isn’t she the one you’re concerned about? He can’t be allowed to stay here with her.’

  ‘We will need to talk to Neil.’

  That’s not enough for Mum. ‘What about the police?’

  Shona nods. ‘We will consult the police.’

  ‘And he’ll have to leave now, won’t he?’

  I can’t look at Shona. The air has been punched out of my lungs. I’m falling off the edge of the world. No one can help me.

  Shona says, ‘I’ll have to ask Neil to leave the house.’ She looks at her watch again.

  I don’t know how to deal with this. How do I face him? Why did he lie to me? Did he lie? Why didn’t I talk to him? My head is pounding and the room is shifting again. I struggle up. ‘I need to lie down.’

  Mum says, ‘Good idea. You leave us to deal with this.’

  *

  I hear them return as I lie on our bed. Milly runs through the door chattering about something that’s amused her while they were out. I hear Neil ask, ‘What’s she said now?’ and Shona’s low voice ushering him into the living room. Mum brings Milly upstairs.

  ‘Here’s Mummy.’

  Milly hovers in the doorway. ‘Are you poorly?’ I force a smile and shake my head, holding my arm out to her. ‘Just a headache. Come and give me a cuddle.’

  She climbs onto the bed. Mum closes to the door behind her, but she doesn’t go down. I listen for Neil to shout. For him to deny it. I wait for him to come thundering up the stairs, but all I hear is an ominous silence.

  27

  Mum brings me some pills and suggests I try and have a nap. I think I’ll never be able to sleep, but I’m wrong. When I stir the room’s dark and Milly’s gone. I try to get up but my head’s too heavy. My limbs are sunk into the mattress. I must speak to Neil. I roll over to the side of the bed, lower myself to the floor and crawl out onto the landing. Downstairs, I can hear someone moving around and for a moment I think it’s all been a horrible nightmare and it’ll be Neil, making Milly something to eat. I pull myself up against the banister and look down. The stairs plunge alarmingly. ‘Neil!’

  Mum appears in the hall and calls up the stairs. ‘You go back to bed.’

  ‘Where’s Neil?’

  ‘He’s gone. It’s all under control. You don’t have to worry.’

  ‘I want to talk to him,’ but she’s shaking her head and I’m spinning. ‘Where’s Milly?’ A surge of cold panic shoots through me. Have they taken Milly? ‘Where’s Milly?’

  I feel like I’m tipping backwards. I grip the banister. Mum is at the top of the stairs. She’s holding me. ‘Hush, darling. Sssshhhh. Milly’s fine. She’s downstairs eating her tea. Now you don’t want her to see you like this, do you? Get some rest. I’ve told her you’ve got a bit of a chill.’ A great black wave is engulfing me and I feel my way back to the bedroom, crawling the length of the bed and allowing my head to sink down, down.

  *

  I sleep and sleep. Day merges into night. I’m aware of the bedroom door opening and closing, Mum’s cool hand on my forehead, stroking my hair. ‘There, there. Mummy’s here.’ Is that her or is that me? Milly crawling in beside me, her little body warm against mine. The light from the hall falling in a shaft across my face. Mum easing Milly’s body away from mine, her sleepy protests, or are they mine? Sounds from downstairs. Mum moving about in the kitchen. My phone ringing. The low murmur of Mum’s voice. The doorbell and voices on the step. I can’t move. Mum eases me into a sitting position and feeds me soup with a spoon. I’m a child again. ‘Come along, Evangeline. Eat up!’

  Where’s Neil? Why isn’t he here? Why isn’t he protesting his innocence?

  Who is he?

  Could it be true?

  We were always honest. No secrets; we talked about that. He had his bruises and I have mine, but there should be no secrets. Love is being brave enough to share it all. Nothing to hide. But he didn’t tell me what happened when he met his birth mother. He didn’t tell me about Tina. He hasn’t talked to me about that time. I thought we were a team, in this together; we signed up to that: a contract, but the contract has been broken. Neil is not the man I thought he was.

  *

  Eventually, I gather enough strength to get up. Where is Milly? I pull on a dressing gown and drag my weary body down the stairs. My mother’s sitting in the armchair beside the reading light with a needle and thread, glasses perched on the end of her nose, mending a hole in the sleeve of Milly’s hoodie. I look at the clock on the mantelpiece. It’s after nine. Outside it’s dark.

  ‘Evangeline! What are you doing down here? Get yourself back up to bed, darling.’

  ‘Milly?’

  ‘She’s sound asleep.’

  ‘Is she OK? What has she said?’

  ‘She has no idea what’s going on. You know what children are like at that age. I told her Daddy’s gone away with work and you’re a bit under the weather. She’s perfectly happy.’

  She is so calm, in the midst of this madness. Taking care of me, taking care of my child. She can do this. She can do this so much better than me.

  I was never meant to be a mother.

  ‘Has Neil phoned?’ She shakes her head.

  ‘What did he say, when Shona told him about the statement?’

  She keeps her eyes focused on her task. ‘Nothing. He was very quiet. I think he knows the game is up.’

  ‘It’s not a game.’

  ‘A turn of phrase, Evangeline.’ In out, in out with the needle. ‘It’s not my intention to trivialise this.’

&nbs
p; ‘Did he ask to speak to me?’ She stops stitching and looks at me, her face pitying. I turn away. ‘Does he know? That I knew…?’

  She’s silent. I can feel her looking at me. He knows. He knows that I knew, about the pregnancy, his son. I knew and I didn’t tell him.

  Why didn’t I tell him? If I’d told him he might have told me the truth.

  I didn’t tell him because I was afraid of the truth. Well, here it is. Here is the truth. No hiding from it now.

  How do I do this? Neil has been there for the whole of my adult life. I’ve shared every waking moment with him for over twenty years. When we’re apart, we’re only ever a phone call away. I don’t think there’s been a day where we haven’t communicated with one another since we first met. It’s not possible to live with someone, to love them, to know them the way I know Neil and to get it so wrong. If it wasn’t for Neil I’d still be in Hitchin, Mummy’s little girl. I would never have travelled, had the adventures. The bike rides through the forest, running up the fell, this job; Neil made all this possible. Neil encouraged and enabled. Neil set me free.

  But I have betrayed him. I should have told him about his son. He will never forgive me for this. We are no longer a team.

  ‘Where’s my phone?’ She nods towards the mantelpiece. I pick it up, check incoming calls and messages. Nothing.

  I go upstairs to the bathroom, slide the bolt across, lean over the sink and slide my fingers along my tongue. Purge myself. Bring it all up.

  I cannot look at my reflection in the mirror. I’m well aware of my seventeen-year-old self who would be staring back at me. I’m back there, as if none of this ever happened. No Neil. No Milly. They will take Milly away. They should take Milly away. I’m not a mother, I’m a pathetic, vomiting wreck, a child who’s never grown up. I went from Mum to Neil. I have never been independent. I can’t manage on my own. I am nothing. This is why I didn’t conceive. Milly will be better off with someone else. I don’t deserve her.