Tainted Lives

by Mandasue Heller

  ‘Mm-hm.’

  ‘Well, your psyche has tried very hard to protect you, Harry. It has resisted several sessions thus far, and that is no mean feat. But at last we have made it see reason.’

  Smiling at the doctor’s choice of words, Harry sat up a little straighter. ‘Does that mean what I think it means?’

  ‘It means,’ Dr Bandera said, leaning forward now, a serious expression on his face, ‘that your tremendous brain has finally relinquished its hold on those memories. When you hear the tape, you will know everything. Are you ready?’

  Harry took a deep breath. He was strong now. Whatever had happened to him as a child, the man he was now could cope.

  ‘Let’s do it,’ he said, lighting another cigarette.

  ‘How old are you, Harry?’

  ‘Ten.’

  ‘Where do you live?’

  ‘At Starlight.’

  ‘Do you like it there?’

  ‘No. The big boys pick on me and call me names.’

  ‘Have you got any special friends?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘What about Sarah?’

  ‘S-Sarah doesn’t like me any more.’

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘Relax, Harry. Let’s move forward to the last night you stayed at Starlight. Where are you?’

  ‘In bed.’

  ‘Is it bedtime?’

  ‘No. I’m upset because they won’t let me see Sarah.’

  ‘Who won’t let you see her?’

  ‘Dandi and Mr Chambers. They said she made a mistake.’

  ‘And did she?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘How do you know it was a mistake, Harry?’

  ‘V-Vinnie . . . Vinnie s-said . . .’

  ‘Calm down, Harry. No one can hurt you now. You’re quite safe. What did Vinnie say?’

  ‘He – he said he was p-punishing me for lying to him, just like he’d punished S-Sarah for ignoring him. He said – he said he was glad Chambers got the blame, and he was going to make sure Chambers got the blame for me as well . . .’

  Sitting in his car outside the consultation rooms, Bill Clark tapped his fingernails agitatedly on the steering wheel. Harry was taking far longer than usual and Bill was beginning to feel apprehensive – and guilty, it had to be said. He had forced Harry into this, so sure that he knew what he was talking about because he had read a couple of leaflets and visited some vague websites. He would never forgive himself if he had contributed to making Harry suffer even more than he already had.

  The breath caught in his throat when Harry came out. He looked so troubled, his face as pale as it had ever been.

  ‘What happened?’ Bill probed gently when Harry climbed in beside him.

  Shaking his head, Harry said, ‘I don’t really want to talk about it, Dad. Would you mind if we just go home? I’ll explain when I’ve had a chance to think it through.’

  ‘Sure.’ Starting the car, Bill drove home in silence.

  Dora Clark rushed to the door when she heard the car. Like her husband, she had become anxious about the length of time that Harry had spent at this appointment. He was usually out much earlier than this. She hoped that nothing bad had happened.

  ‘You took so long,’ she said when Harry stepped out onto the path. ‘Are you all right?’

  ‘I’m fine, Mum.’ Bending, he kissed her cheek. ‘I wish you’d both stop worrying.’

  Dora glanced at her husband. He shook his head, telling her to leave it for now. Harry would come to them when he was ready.

  Going up to his room, Harry snatched up his guitar and carried it to the window seat. Playing softly, he gazed out across the garden. There was no better view in the world, and it never failed to relax him. Trees and flowers everywhere. And the fish pond that he and his dad had created, complete with a walk-across bridge, always made him feel tranquil and calm.

  His mum came into view after a while, carrying a large basket of washing. Watching as she pegged each item on the line, pausing now and then to rub at the small of her back, Harry sighed deeply. He made more than enough money to hire a housekeeper to do all these chores for her, but his mother was a stubborn old girl. If she wasn’t doing something for the men in her life, she felt as if she were failing in her duties. And Harry and Bill humoured her, because they both knew she thrived on it. She had waited so long for a child of her own, and when poor, damaged Harry had come into her life she had made it her mission to heal his pain. And, for the most part, she had succeeded. If it hadn’t been for her and Bill’s gentle, caring ways, Harry knew that he might never have become who he was today. And, against all the odds, he knew he was someone worth knowing.

  Not handsome in the traditional sense, Harry was reasonably good-looking. Age had stretched his ugly features so that his nose no longer seemed too large for his face, his mouth no longer too wide. He could even get a tan these days. And, with the progress in hair-colouring products, he’d had highlights put into his rich red hair, taking the words ‘ginger nut’ out of the equation.

  But it wasn’t just his looks that had improved. Everything about his life was a million times better than he had ever dreamed possible. Everything he had, everything he was, he truly owed to Bill and Dora. Just as he owed them an explanation now. They were so patient that they would wait for ever for him to tell them what they were bursting to know. But they deserved to be put out of their misery.

  Putting the guitar down, Harry made his way downstairs and called his parents into the kitchen. Sitting them down at the table, he told them what he had learned today – and what he had decided to do about it.

  36

  Replacing the phone in its cradle, the desk sergeant, Janice Webb, looked up at the sound of the door opening and tutted when she saw DI West entering.

  ‘Trust you to turn up a second after you’re wanted,’ she scolded, releasing the inner door to let him behind the desk.

  ‘I’m always in demand,’ West muttered, shuffling sideways through the door to avoid dropping either the papers tucked under his arm or the hot lidded drink in his hand. ‘Who requires the great man’s genius this time?’

  Janice handed him the name and phone number she had jotted down. ‘Here. It’s the third time he’s rung, and he wants you to ring back as soon as. Sounded pretty desperate.’

  ‘Who is it?’ West grunted, gazing blankly at the name. ‘Don’t know any Mr Clarks.’

  ‘Me neither.’ Janice inspected a nail she had just chipped. ‘Asked for PC West, if that’s any help?’

  ‘Bloody hell!’ He drew his head back, a deep frown crinkling his brow. ‘It’s years since I was in uniform. What did he want?’

  ‘What am I?’ She arched an eyebrow. ‘Madam Zelda the mind-reader?’

  ‘No, Janice the bloody useless secretary,’ he retorted. ‘If you’re gonna take messages, make sure you know what they’re about, eh?’

  ‘All he said was to tell you to ring him urgently. Oh, and to say it’s about “Starlight”.’ She shrugged. ‘Don’t ask me. He said you’d know what that meant.’

  West’s frown intensified. Starlight. That was a name he hadn’t heard in a long time. Last he’d heard the Council had closed them down, relocating all the inmates and selling the property off at a huge loss for a quick sale. It had been an old folks’ home last time he’d driven by.

  Peering at the name again, he dredged his memory for any Mr Clarks he had come across in connection with Starlight. Drawing a blank, he wandered through to his office at the rear of the station, ignoring Janice’s sarcastic call of ‘You’re welcome!’

  Dropping the papers into an untidy heap on the floor, West sat down at the desk and rooted through the mess for the phone. Finding it, he dropped into his chair and hooked the receiver beneath his chin. Dialling the number, he flipped the lid off his drink with his thumb.

  ‘Mr West?’

  ‘Shit!’ Jumping at the speed with which the call was answered, West spilled tea onto his hand, scalding himself. ‘Yeah, this i
s DI West,’ he snapped, recovering his composure and wiping his hand on his trousers. ‘You wanted to talk to me? What’s up?’

  ‘I, er, don’t really want to go into it over the phone. Would it be possible to meet up?’

  ‘Depends who you are and what you want,’ West said gruffly. ‘I don’t recognize the name.’

  ‘Oh, of course, sorry, I should have thought. It was changed when I was adopted. It was Shaw when I saw you last. Harry Shaw. I don’t suppose you remember me?’

  ‘I do, as it happens.’ West’s eyebrow had risen to a sharp inverted V of surprise. ‘Bloody hell, it’s been some time, hasn’t it? What can I do for you, son?’

  ‘I’ve got some information about what happened,’ Harry told him cagily, unwilling to elaborate over the phone. ‘Do you think it would be possible to meet up?’ he asked again.

  ‘Can’t really see the point,’ West said, sipping the tea. ‘The case was closed way back. We got him, he did his time, end of story.’

  ‘But that’s just it,’ Harry persisted. ‘It’s not. Look, I really can’t go into it like this. I’m staying at La Granta. Do you think you could come and see me here?’

  West was more than a little impressed. La Granta was an expensive hotel in the town centre. The kid must be doing all right for himself to be staying there.

  ‘I know it’s an imposition,’ Harry went on. ‘But if you could come tonight we could have a meal, or just drinks if you’d prefer? Please. This is really important.’

  West’s stomach rumbled at the mention of food. Glancing at his watch, he ran a hand over the stubble plaguing his chin. Ever since he’d turned grey, the damn stuff was growing thicker and faster than ever.

  ‘All right, I’ll be there at six,’ he said, figuring that would give him time to get home, take a shower, have a shave and get changed.

  ‘Thanks.’ Harry breathed an audible sigh of relief.

  ‘Don’t thank me till you know if I’m interested in what you’ve got to say,’ West growled. ‘I’m retiring soon. I might decide it isn’t worth the hassle.’

  Walking into the foyer of the plush hotel two hours later, West whistled through his teeth. It was the kind of place that made you feel like a tramp if you hadn’t blown your nose.

  ‘May I be of assistance, sir?’

  Turning at the sound of the haughty voice, West saw a man in full red, black and gold livery. He almost laughed, but he pulled his badge out instead – perversely pleased by the scandalized expression he received in return. Visits from the police obviously lowered the cultured tone that this clown held so dear.

  ‘I’m looking for Harry Clark,’ he said. ‘Let him know I’m here, will you?’

  ‘Certainly, sir.’

  Shaking his head when the man bowed and walked away, West wandered across the foyer to read the gold-edged menu pinned to the wall beside the dining room. The descriptions were foreign, but the prices were pure English – and looked like you’d need to take out a mortgage to pay them.

  ‘DI West?’ It was Harry.

  Turning, West gazed at him blankly for a moment. He almost didn’t recognize him. At least six feet tall now, Harry Shaw was a man who held himself with a confidence that West had never thought to see in him.

  ‘Thanks for coming.’ Harry extended his hand.

  Taking it, West smiled. ‘Bloody hell, you’ve shot up a bit, haven’t you? I wouldn’t have known you in a million years.’

  ‘I recognized you straight away,’ Harry said, his eyes twinkling as he stopped himself from adding: Despite the vast difference in age, weight and hair colour since I last saw you. ‘Would you like to eat?’

  ‘As long as it’s only a piece of bread.’ West motioned towards the menu. ‘About all I could afford off of that.’

  ‘I’m paying,’ Harry said. ‘It’s the least I can do.’

  ‘Oh, well, if you insist.’ Chuckling, West patted his belly. ‘As you can probably tell, I never turn down a free meal.’

  ‘Drink?’ Harry asked, leading West to a table in the dining room.

  ‘Scotch,’ West said, glancing around at their snotty-looking fellow diners. He wouldn’t have been at all surprised to see them wearing full ball gowns and tuxedos, given the poncey atmosphere of the place.

  Harry called the waiter over. ‘Two whiskies, please. Doubles.’ Lighting a cigarette then, he offered the pack to West.

  Taking one, West said, ‘Thought they didn’t like this sort of thing in these places?’

  ‘When you’re paying as much as they charge here, they tend to overlook it,’ Harry said, finishing the coffee that he’d been drinking while he waited.

  Chuckling, West shook his head. He’d never have envisioned Harry Shaw turning out like this – so confident and sure of his place in the world.

  ‘So, what do you do?’ he asked. ‘Computers, I’d bet?’

  Smiling modestly, Harry said, ‘Websites, actually. I started in my dad’s company, and . . . well, let’s just say I outgrew it.’

  ‘Oh, yeah?’ West’s tone was teasing now. ‘I’ve heard about those websites. One of those Internet millionaires, are you?’

  ‘Something like that.’ Blushing, Harry looked down at his cigarette.

  ‘I’m impressed,’ West said, sensing that the lad was uncomfortable. ‘Seriously. You were so fucked-up last time we saw you, me and my partner didn’t think you’d make it. I’m pleased you’re doing so well.’

  ‘Thanks,’ Harry said, knowing that West meant it by the tone of his voice. ‘I was worried people who knew me before would resent me.’

  ‘Never envy what you haven’t got the sense to earn,’ West remarked sagely. Taking his drink from the returning waiter, he sipped it and sighed. ‘Now that’s nice.’

  ‘Would you care to order now?’ the waiter asked.

  ‘Can’t even read most of it,’ West snorted. ‘What you having, Harry?’

  ‘Steak.’

  ‘Same for me.’ West closed his menu with a snap. ‘And make sure it ain’t singing.’ Seeing the waiter’s blank expression, he said, ‘No blood. I want it dead and buried.’

  ‘Medium rare for me.’ Harry handed the menus back. ‘And a bottle of chilled white.’

  Looking bemused when the waiter bowed and backed away, West said, ‘So, what was so urgent that you had to drag me over here?’

  ‘Well, as I said earlier,’ Harry began, leaning his elbows on the table and resting his chin on his clasped fists, ‘I’ve got information about what happened to me at Starlight. The problem is, if I’d told you over the phone how I came by it you’d have dismissed it out of hand. Which is why I invited you to dinner.’ He gave a wry smile. ‘I thought I’d trap you behind a plate so that you’d have to hear me out.’

  Rocking back in his chair, West snorted softly. ‘Remember what I said about retiring and not wanting hassle? Well, I meant it. So I’ll listen while I eat, but if it’s bullshit I’ll get straight up and leave when I’ve finished. Are we clear on that?’

  ‘Absolutely,’ Harry agreed.

  Pushing his plate back half an hour later, West burped loudly and wiped his mouth on a napkin.

  ‘Lovely, that. Shame they can’t give proper portions, but I suppose it’ll stop my belt busting.’

  ‘Glad you liked it,’ Harry said, a little impatiently. ‘So, what do you think?’

  ‘Truth?’ West paused to light a cigarette. ‘It’s bullshit. Hypnosis is a stage act. Haven’t you seen those American shows where they give a bloke a sweeping brush and make him think he’s dancing with Madonna?’

  ‘I used to think it was like that,’ Harry admitted. ‘But now I’ve done it, I know it’s not. It’s not about making suggestions, it’s about unlocking what’s already there. I regressed to being ten years old in that session. I sounded exactly like I did when I was a kid. It was eerie as hell, but it was real.’

  West peered at him for a long, silent moment. He wanted to help the lad lay his demons to rest, but it was all so ridicul
ous, and he was so close to getting out of the force.

  ‘You do know there’s not a snowball in hell’s chance of this going anywhere, don’t you?’ he said at last. ‘There’s not a copper, a lawyer, or a judge in the world who would take it seriously. And even if you got lucky and someone did believe you, there’s nothing to back it up but the ramblings of your hypnotized mind. And that, my friend, ain’t admissible.’

  ‘Granted it’s hard to swallow, but I’m not trying to take this to court. I just want a chance to talk to Sarah about it. To try and put things right.’

  ‘If you’re thinking about putting it right with Chambers, forget it. He’s done his time.’

  ‘I wish I was wrong about this,’ Harry murmured guiltily. ‘At least then I’d know he hadn’t served all that time for nothing.’

  ‘I think you are wrong, if it’s any consolation,’ West told him. ‘The evidence was pretty conclusive.’

  ‘Anyone with an atom of cunning can set an innocent person up,’ Harry argued. ‘Don’t tell me you’ve never seen it done.’

  Shrugging, West said, ‘Maybe so, but you’re going purely on the basis of this hypnosis session and, to be honest, you haven’t got a clue what this Dr Banderooney bloke said while you were out of it. He could have fed you all sorts of nonsense. I’ve seen it before, kid. It’s called false-memory syndrome, and it’s always got some whacked-out therapist at the heart of it.’

  Sighing deeply, Harry looked down at his hands. ‘I know it sounds ridiculous, but I just want to know she’s all right. She looked out for me when I had no one, and I can’t bear to think of her suffering like I was before the sessions. All I’m asking for is help to find her, and you’re the only one I could think of.’

  ‘With your knowledge of the Internet, I would have thought you could find her in a heartbeat.’

  ‘I’ve tried, but it’s impossible if the person you’re looking for hasn’t put themselves out there at some point.’

  ‘All right.’ West came to a decision. ‘I’ll try and find her for you, but only ’cos I’m kind of interested to see how she turned out. And it might take a while, so don’t build your hopes up. When are you going home?’