Guilty

by Jane Bidder

  ‘You’ve got to stop beating yourself up, darling,’ tinkled Joanna. ‘ Even I am beginning to feel you’ve paid your dues. By the way, weren’t you meant to have phoned Claire tonight? She’s just moved into her new place, hasn’t she? Goodness me, she’ll think you don’t care, especially if she saw the way you’ve been looking at Caroline-Jane! ’

  That night, Simon didn’t sleep until the dawn light streaked the sky. Even then, it was fitful with that dream about Ben and Claire, and the dog. And that was when he woke up with the terrible realisation that he was on the Other Side.

  Chapter Thirty-eight

  They’d been searching for nearly five hours and still there was no sign of Slasher. This was unbearable. Ben couldn’t cope without that dog. She had to find it.

  ‘He doesn’t know the area,’ Ben kept saying over and over again as though this was going to make the dog appear. His tears had stopped now and he was walking next to Claire, in a determined march through the streets of Holloway calling out Slasher’s name. If he’d been doing this at home, Claire thought, passers-by would have thought he was crazy but, here in London, several others (like the young woman with studded eyebrows they’d just passed), were also shouting at no one in particular or muttering to themselves. Maybe they were drunk or on drugs.

  There was no question of Ben starting his new school today. When she’d gently suggested it, he had rounded on her with the words: ‘If you think I’m doing that without finding Slasher, you know me even less than you think.’

  The words had stung which was perhaps why she had also found the courage to tell Max that she was sorry but she couldn’t start work until she had found their dog and that, in the meantime, he might care to call in that domestic service they’d discussed last night because there was no way she could start her duties as a housekeeper in a mess like this. She’d expected to be fired after that but Max had merely nodded and said that he would organise it, despite the fact that he too had work to do. Claire couldn’t help thinking that, before Simon had gone to prison, she wouldn’t have had the strength of mind to have stood up for herself like that.

  But even strength of mind couldn’t bring back Slasher. ‘Is he chipped?’ asked one of the many local vets they rang on her mobile while walking the streets, calling out his name. And she’d had to explain that no, he wasn’t, because he didn’t actually belong to her and that she was dog-sitting for a few months. The reproving voice made her feel like a bad guardian.

  If they didn’t find Slasher soon, she would have to ring the prison and leave a message – but saying what, exactly? That she had lost a dog belonging to a criminal? Claire shivered as she passed yet another man sitting in a doorway glugging back a bottle of whisky. What would Slasher’s owner do? And how would Ben manage without him?

  The only saving grace, as she told the disapproving vets’ assistants, was that she had put her own mobile number on Slasher’s collar when she first got him. ‘How did you lose him, exactly?’ asked one girl who sounded slightly more sympathetic than the others.

  Claire watched Ben stride ahead through yet another street, calling out Slasher’s name. ‘We’ve just moved to London and it was our first night. He’s been used to sleeping on my son’s bed but the person we’re staying with didn’t want that and so we had to put his basket in the kitchen. Our landlord gets up in the night to work and somehow left the back door open when he went out for a walk.’

  ‘In the night?’ The girl’s voice had an edge to it.

  ‘He’s rather eccentric.’

  ‘Slasher, Slasher,’ called Ben and Claire’s heart felt as though it was squeezing itself into a ball of plain panic. It was like looking for a needle in a haystack.

  ‘My car was broken into overnight as well and I’m worried that the person who did that might have taken him.’ She kept her voice low when she said that in case Ben heard.

  ‘Have you phoned the police?’

  ‘Yes. They said they’d look into it.’

  ‘Hmmm.’ The girl didn’t sound convinced. ‘The best thing you can do is put up posters everywhere with a picture of your dog and your mobile number. But be prepared for some nutters who will just ring you anyway and demand a reward even if they haven’t got him. We moved to London from Northumbria last year and we’re still getting used to it.’

  ‘Thank you.’

  ‘I haven’t been much use, I’m afraid.’

  ‘You’ve been kind.’

  ‘Slasher, Slasher,’ rang Ben’s voice as Claire put the phone down. They were going back onto a huge main road now, taxis and cars whizzing past them. ‘Supposing he’s got run over, Mum? It’s so busy.’

  Claire put her arm around her son’s shoulders. ‘The police will tell us.’

  ‘But how will they know?’

  She hesitated, not wanting to tell him what the police girl had explained: that if a dog was found dead, it would be taken to a special pound and then the owner would be contacted if there was sufficient ID.

  ‘I wish we’d never come here.’

  ‘Me too.’ Claire suddenly recalled that newspaper article. ‘I’m sorry but …’

  Her right jeans pocket began to vibrate. ‘Hello?’

  ‘Is that Slasher?’ A woman’s shrill voice rang out in her ear.

  Her heart began to beat. ‘No. But have you got him?’

  ‘Do you mean the dog?’

  Claire’s heart began to throb with hope in her ears and she had to shhh Ben who kept butting in, wanting to know what was happening. ‘Yes, the dog.’

  ‘I need to speak to Slasher first. That’s what it says on the collar tag.’

  ‘Slasher’s the name of the dog!’

  ‘Fucking hell. That’s not ʼcos he bites is it? ʼCos if so, I’m not having him in ʼere.’

  Claire felt relief and panic seeping into her voice at the same time. ‘He’s really friendly. Please, just tell me where you are and I’ll come and collect him.’

  ‘Is there a reward?’

  ‘Yes,’ Claire heard herself say.

  ‘How much, then?’

  ‘Fifty pounds.’

  ‘That all?’

  Relief was now turning to desperation. ‘Look, I’m a single mother and we’ve just moved here. I don’t have any money.’

  ‘You sound posh enough.’ The voice turned sulky. ‘OK. I suppose fifty will do. I’ll meet you by Mandela Mansions.’

  ‘Where?’

  The voice was sounding fed up now. ‘By Budgens off the Holloway Road. I’ll be there in ten. Don’t be late.’

  The old Claire would have panicked but she couldn’t do that now. She had just ten minutes to find Slasher and she wasn’t going to mess up.

  ‘What are you doing?’ yelled Ben as she stepped into the road.

  ‘Getting a taxi,’ she yelled back.

  Thank heaven. One had just turned the corner, its yellow light on. ‘Budgens,’ she said, half laughing and half crying. ‘The Holloway Road.’

  It wasn’t a long ride but it came to nearly £8 and Claire had to scrabble around at the bottom of her bag to make up the amount. ‘Sorry I don’t have enough for a tip,’ she said as she and Ben stood on the pavement outside but the taxi driver just shot off. Only then did she realise she didn’t have any money on her to pay the dog woman if indeed she was there.

  ‘I can’t see him!’ Ben’s voice rose in panic as Claire looked around. There was Budgens all right but there wasn’t anyone outside with a dog; only an old man bent over a shopping trolley as though it was a zimmer frame and a woman wearing a bright pink scarf over her head, a black hoodie and red jogging bottoms. She was leaning against the window, lighting up a cigarette. ‘Excuse me,’ ventured Claire. ‘Did you just call me?’

  The woman narrowed her eyes. ‘I might. I might not. What’s it to you?’

  Ben tugged her by the sleeve. ‘You’ve got my dog. I know you have.’

  ‘Ben!’ she started to say, appalled.

  ‘She has! Look. That’s
his collar poking out of her pocket.’

  The woman threw her cigarette on the pavement without bothering to stub it out. ‘Sharp one, aren’t you? I like that.’ She turned her thin pinched face towards Claire. ‘Got the money, have you?’

  ‘Only if you tell me where Slasher is first.’ Claire heard her voice sounding much firmer than she felt. ‘And if you promise me he is all right.’

  Ben gave a sob and made to grab her arm again. ‘All right, sonny, all right. Your dog’s safe.’ She waved a grimy hand towards the cash point. ‘Your mum can get her money out there and then I’ll get someone to bring him down.’

  Claire pressed one note into the woman’s hand and pocketed the rest. ‘You can have them when we have Slasher,’ she said. ‘And by the way, forget what I told you about him being docile. If I tell him to attack, he’ll do exactly that. Now if you want your money, I suggest you take us straight to him.’

  Mandela Mansions was a huge dirty white block of flats down a side road. Someone had crossed out the word ‘mansions’ and put ‘shithole’. The woman walked straight past. ‘You don’t live there?’ asked Ben.

  The woman was already rolling up another cigarette as she walked on. ‘Mandela is much posher than our place.’ She grinned, revealing yellowy teeth. ‘Used to live there, we did, when my old man got out but then they moved us on.’

  Claire caught her breath. ‘Got out?’

  ‘Got out of prison.’ The woman was lighting her cigarette now. ‘Something you wouldn’t know about.’

  Claire glanced at Ben who shook his head. No, he said with his eyes. Don’t tell her. They followed her up a flight of concrete stairs and then another before making their way gingerly along an outside landing which had a barred balcony which ran the length of the building. The woman proceeded to unlock the door with a key at the end of the string round her neck.

  Slasher hurled himself towards them. ‘You’re safe. You’re safe!’ Never had she seen him look so happy.

  ‘I fed him,’ said the woman, putting her hand out for the rest of the money. ‘Gave him some of my cornflakes.’

  Claire just wanted to get out now but weirdly, the woman seemed to need to talk. ‘Nice little thing, isn’t he? I used to have one when I was married.’ She looked around the room and Claire followed her gaze. There were photographs of children; school photos showing bright faced children in royal blue uniforms. ‘Grown up now,’ said the woman. ‘Don’t see much of them. Prison can do that to you.’

  The realisation suddenly dawned. ‘You were in prison too?’ she asked gently. The woman nodded. ‘After me old man got out, we were skint so we sold some stuff.’

  Claire lowered her voice. ‘Drugs?’

  The woman nodded. ‘I wouldn’t have thought you’d know about that sort of thing.’

  ‘My husband is Inside,’ said Claire quietly. ‘He killed someone in a car crash.’

  The eyes narrowed. ‘Fucking hell.’ She lit another cigarette. ‘What did he get?’

  ‘Two years. Should be out in one’

  The woman gave her a sharp look. ‘You OK?’

  Claire wanted to laugh. ‘We haven’t got any money; we had to leave our house because we were being bricked; and now we’ve come here to get away.’

  ‘Take a deck at this.’ The woman was pressing a piece of paper into her hands. ‘It’s a place wot helps families of prisoners. Helped me a bit, they did.’

  Slasher was beginning to whine now, pawing at the door. ‘He needs to go,’ said Ben urgently.

  ‘Don’t let him shit in here.’ The woman’s tone changed. ‘I’ve had enough crap to deal with this week. Off you go.’

  She held out her hand. Claire took it. ‘Thank you,’ she said.

  The woman looked embarrassed. ‘I didn’t do nothing.’

  ‘Yes you did. I don’t know what my son would do without that dog.’

  ‘See you around, maybe.’ The woman looked as though she was going to say something else and then slammed the door on them.

  ‘She was all right, really,’ said Ben happily as Slasher pulled him along the street, back towards the writer’s house almost as though he knew the way.

  Claire nodded. ‘We’ve learned a lot in the last year, haven’t we?’

  Ben squeezed her arm and she realised it was one of the first adult conversations they’d had. ‘What’s that in your sleeve?’ he asked.

  She’d thought it was a tissue but as she pulled it out, something else fluttered to the ground. It was a dog-eared £10 note; the woman must have tucked it in when holding out her hand.

  When they got back to the house, she barely recognised it. During the time they’d been searching for Slasher, the house had been cleaned from top to toe.

  ‘Cost me a pretty penny,’ said Max as he met them in the hall. ‘But I must admit, it does look a bit better. Do you feel able to start your housekeeper duties now? By the way, I’m glad you found the dog. I’m sorry about leaving the door open last night.’

  All this came out in a rush, in great contrast to the slow deliberate speech of yesterday and Claire instinctively felt that he was embarrassed. She also suspected that Jean might have told him off on the phone.

  ‘Of course.’ She moved towards the kitchen. ‘Do you like steak and kidney pie?’

  He nodded. ‘Don’t feel you need to start immediately. Get yourself sorted upstairs if you want.’

  Their talk yesterday about her not being a maid had worked, she thought as she made her way up to the bedroom to wash and check her emails. She was definitely changing; becoming more assured. The thought occurred to her that Simon might find her changed when he came out. He’d be different too …

  Now her hands closed around the piece of paper bearing the telephone number which the woman had given her. A charity, she’d said, that helped families of people imprisoned. She’d call them tomorrow. First she needed to check this email from her agent.

  Like your idea but need text to go with it … Unusual … Original twist …

  A pleasant tingle ran down her spine. The idea for a book, aimed at teenagers on how to cope if a parent went Inside, had come from watching Ben in the prison. Surely there had to be a market …

  Just as she was about to reply, her mobile rang. ‘Mrs Mills?’ said a clinical voice. Instantly every muscle in her body tightened.

  ‘Yes ?’

  She knew from the tone that something had happened and now she needed to know what, before the sudden tightening in her chest threatened to choke her.

  ‘This is HMP Freetown. I regret you to inform you that there has been an incident.’

  Next door in his bedroom, Ben put his face in Slasher’s fur, nuzzling him. The smell reassured him; he could handle anything now, even a new school, especially now he had got Poppy’s message.

  Not long now. He could hardly wait.

  Chapter Thirty-nine

  ‘I don’t see why they had to lock us up like common criminals,’ complained Jack as they shuffled along to the shower and loo at the end of the corridor.

  ‘Some people would see us as that,’ pointed out Simon. ‘You’re here for fraud and I’m here for something far worse.’

  ‘Don’t be too hard on yourself,’ tinkled Joanna. ‘ There were mitigating factors you know, like Hugh grabbing the wheel.’

  ‘There is nothing,’ continued Simon firmly, ‘which can excuse either of us. In fact, we could both be here.’

  Jack shivered – either from revulsion or because it was so freezing in the bathroom. ‘Speak for yourself. I borrowed money from a client’s account. I’m not responsible for a loss of life. This place is a ‘B cat.’ For a reason. Before I came here, I didn’t realise that there were different grades of prison according to the severity of your crime – and risk to the public, plus your means to escape – or that you had to work your way down them to get out. Did you?’

  Simon nodded. ‘You forget I was a solicitor once.’ It still gave him a funny feeling to say that and for an instant,
he recalled his father’s look of pride when he qualified all those years ago. Just as well his father wasn’t here to see him now.

  ‘How the mighty have fallen.’ Jack grinned, and in that instant, Simon decided that he didn’t like the man. He could almost understand how, in a confined environment like this, a bloke could really get on your nerves.

  Jack was in the loo now and came out, a disgusted expression on his face. ‘Wouldn’t go in there if I were you. Worse than ours has ever been.’ He cast a look at the shower which had a cigarette end on the tray below. Don’t fancy that either. Just have to make do, I will, until they let us out. You do think it will be today, don’t you?’

  Simon had been hoping the same. He could hear noises outside but, unlike their hut, this corridor had an electronic door at the end; they couldn’t get out until the bell went and it was time for breakfast. ‘I don’t know.’

  Jack’s eyes grew blacker and smaller. ‘Why not? You’re the solicitor, aren’t you? What about our rights?’

  He grabbed Simon by his shirt collar. ‘If I don’t get out of this place, I’m going to go mad,’ he whimpered.

  Simon thought of the men they had been talking to yesterday: Malik and some of the others. The funny thing is that they hadn’t seemed threatening at all; in fact, some of them could have been a next-door neighbour.

  ‘Calm down.’ Gently he lifted Jack’s hands off his shirt. ‘It will be all right.’

  ‘I haven’t rung my girlfriend.’ Jack was still whimpering although his hands were by his side now. ‘She’ll be panicking.’

  Simon thought about how he’d promised to ring Claire. No doubt, she’d be cross rather than panicking; assuming he’d let her down again. ‘I’m sure we’ll be allowed to call this morning. Listen!’ He held up a hand.

  It was a prison officer; a small, lean grey man who officiously announced that they were to follow him to the dining room where they’d been given a sandwich the night before. Simon recognised Malik working in the pod and nodded. The man nodded back, grinning.

  ‘Doesn’t look like a man who assaulted someone with a Samurai sword, does he?’ chirruped Joanna. ‘ And if you don’t believe me, ask someone.’