by CS Savage
'Not that I can see.'
'Well, thanks a lot. And let me know if you hear anything else about him?'
'Sure thing, Clancy. Take care.'
She put the phone down and looked pensively at her screen. She knew she shouldn't, almost as much as she knew she was going to. Pulling her keyboard towards her, she clicked on the patient notes icon and typed Emma's name into the case record box, clicked go. The screen showed up five Emma Staceys, but only one with the correct date of birth. She moved her mouse, opened the record. The usual warning popped up – you have no legitimate relationship, blah blah. She ignored it, took a deep breath and then opened the notes.
The first thing that struck her was that for a young girl, she had a lot of entries. She opened the progress notes and started to read, sucking the top of her pen as she scrolled down. Poor Emma. She had been seen in A&E numerous times after cutting herself or overdose attempts, usually whilst intoxicated. She had been under children's services. Her mother was an addict, and she'd been in care since the age of fourteen. Last time she had been seen was six months ago. Similar presentation, and it looked like she'd been given no follow-up. Before Clancy closed the case notes, she scribbled down the address on a post it note, stuck it to her desk. She wasn't sure if she dared go around there and try and ask about Lowe, but if she had no other leads, it might be worth it. She grabbed at her mobile phone and dialled Hamish.
'Hey, Clance. You ok?'
'Sure. Look, I've got a lead on Lowe. He was seen arguing in the High Street with a girl. I've got her name and address. Do you think it's a really stupid idea to go round there, see if she can tell me anything about him, where he might be?'
There was a long silence. 'Look, I dunno, Clance. How did you get her details?'
'Off the system.'
'I don't need to tell you that’s illegal. She's going to know you've looked her up. Could cause a load of trouble.'
Clancy bit her lip. 'Not necessarily. I thought I might go round there to check up on her? If I wear my ID badge, how's she not to know she wasn't just referred by the police following the fracas? It’s not like she hasn't had loads of referrals like that in the past…'
'If you ask me, that’s a really bad idea. It’s likely to come out at some point?'
'Nah. She'll never know. And if she's in a bad way, I'll refer her to someone for help. You could see it as me doing her a favour.'
'Why will you never listen to decent advice?' Hamish's usually gentle voice was raised; she could hear the anger, was a little shocked by it, to be honest. She'd never heard him cross before. Perhaps she was going a bit too far. But she thought about Lowe, and her need to find him, and her mind was made up.
'Okay, Okay. Well I'll think about it.' No point arguing with Hamish, he had made his point of view clear. What he didn't know couldn't hurt. She picked her keys off her desk, grabbed her coat and took the post-it note with the address she needed. As an afterthought, she hung her ID badge round her neck. And then, she walked to the car park, as calm as she could, not wanting anyone to ask where she was going.
Boundary Road was amazingly upmarket. Semi-detached Victorian houses hid behind the heavy green foliage of manicured hedges, front lawns trimmed. She didn't really know what she had been expecting, but it hadn't been this. And then, she remembered – she had seen on the notes – Emma still lived with her foster family, despite now being eighteen. As was typical for Sutton, all parking was on a meter, so she had to grovel around in the bottom of her bags for coins. When she was done, she checked her badge was clearly showing, opened the gate of number 92 and walked to the front door before ringing the doorbell. The door opened almost instantly. Clancy had the strange feeling that she had been expected – which was clearly impossible – so maybe she had been observed leaving her car. She was faced with a middle-aged woman, hair grey and in a bob, her face decidedly frosty.
'Can I help you?'
Clancy held up her ID badge. 'Hi, I'm Dr Mclean. I was wondering if I could speak to Emma?'
'She didn't say she was expecting anyone. And she's still in bed.'
Clancy definitely hadn't mistaken the frostiness, which was now almost iciness. 'It's sort of an unannounced visit. Would you mind waking her for me?'
'I hope you're not going to upset her? She’s very sensitive you know?'
'Yes, I’m aware of that. I'm here to help?'
'Help with what?'
'Well, that's sort of between me and Emma.' Clancy held up her badge again hopefully, gave a sigh of relief when Greybob opened the front door and beckoned for her to come in.
'You can wait in there.'
Clancy walked into a lounge whose furnishings would have been more suited to a stately home, all velvet drapes and brass. She sat gingerly on the edge of a plum damask sofa, feeling herself sinking deep into the cushion. She could hear voices upstairs and then the sound of footsteps descending before the door swung open. Emma's hair wouldn't have looked out of place in a hay-net and was in contrast to her fluffy pink dressing-gown and slippers. At least Greybob hadn't been lying, she had needed waking up. And she looked decidedly irritable.
'What's this all about? What do you want?'
Again, Clancy held up the badge. 'Hi, I'm Dr Mclean from local mental health services. The police passed your information to me, asked me to pop round and check on you.'
'Well, they shouldn't have. There's nothing wrong with me. I'm fine.'
'They seemed to think you were upset? Something about a row in the street? With a man, someone older than you. And you seemed intoxicated?'
'Bloody cheek, how dare they say that, and interfere by sending you round? Is it illegal to have a bloody drink now? I am eighteen, you know.' As Emma became irater, her sleeves rode up her arms, and Clancy could see the scars criss-crossed on them. She was still cutting herself. However determined she was that she was fine, she clearly had problems. The girl caught Clancy looking and gave her sleeves a tug, her cheeks turned pink.
'Look, I'm here to help, not to make things worse,' Clancy said, forgetting for a moment that she was there for a completely different reason.
'Well, keep your voice down, then. She doesn't know I've been drinking. There'll be hell to pay if she finds out.' Emma's blonde hair swung as she indicated towards the door.
Clancy, from first impressions of Greybob, had every reason to think she was right and lowered her voice. 'So, have you been drinking a lot?'
Emma sniffed. 'On and off. Look, it’s nothing to do with you. Like I say, it’s not illegal.'
Changing tack, Clancy moved onto Lowe. 'The police said you were arguing with some guy, he was much older than you. What was all that about?'
Emma's eyes narrowed, slit-like. 'None of your business.'
'Well, the police thought he'd upset you. Hurt you, even?'
'Well, he hadn't. Look, he's just some guy I met, buys me drinks. I'm not going to turn them down, am I? He's a bit odd but seems harmless enough. He just seems lonely. Wants to talk about his mum all the time.'
'Well, why were you arguing, then?'
The silence was long, eventually Emma broke it. 'He wanted me to go home with him. I said no. Normal stuff, he's a bloke, isn’t he, wanted a shag.' She shook her head. 'I told him no way. He was pissed.'
'Is he hassling you now?'
'No. I’ve not seen him since. I'm not worried by him, anyway, I can handle him.'
'Do you know where he's staying?'
'At his house?' She looked at Clancy as if she were brain dead. 'He lives on the Shanklin estate. Like I said, he's a loner, I don't think he has any friends.'
Clancy stared at her. 'Well, be careful. You don't know what some of these blokes are like.'
'I can look after myself. Now, if you've finished, I want to go for a bath.'
Clancy allowed herself to be shown out. She was aware of Greybob's eyes following her from her seat in the kitchen. Has she heard anything? She walked to her car, and got into the driver’s seat, sat p
ensively for a minute. Feeling Greybob's gaze on the back of her neck, she started the car and drove back towards the office. At least she got something out of her trip. Knowing that Lowe was staying at home was helpful.
The following day, she and Hamish had finished their walk before she dared bring the subject up. It had been an energetic one, the ground was frozen, and Mickleham Downs had been spectacular. They were settled in the pub that was warm, with an open fire crackling, and Clancy had had the best part of a bottle of red. She and Hamish were side by side, and she could feel the warmth of his body against her. It was tempting to slip her arm behind him, snuggle into him. She wasn't so pissed that she followed her urge. She kept her hands in her lap, firmly clasped together.
She hadn't been with a man since Rowan's father, who had left acrimoniously fifteen years earlier. He had gone on to remarry, had another child, this time, a son. He was still in contact with Ro, but their relationship was now mainly centred on the financial, Ro benefiting from money he sent her, presumably to assuage his guilt. But Clancy couldn't ignore the fact that he was well settled into a relationship, whereas she had not even been attracted to another man – until now. The waitress was just serving their food. Clancy was eyeing her steak greedily when Hamish brought up Emma.
'So, did you go round there?'
Clancy felt her face flush, even more so than the wine had made it.
'I knew you would. You're so bloody stubborn. So, tell me, what did you find out?'
'Not a lot, to be honest. She was in. She's got major personality issues, by the looks of things, no surprise, given her history. Didn't say much about him, just that he's been buying her drinks. And that he's odd…a loner…and talks about his mum a lot.' She sneaked a look at Hamish out of the corner of her eye. He had driven to the pub, so he hadn't had the benefit of the wine, but as she looked at him, she could see that his face was tense. He was using his straw to knock the ice around the bottom of his glass.
'Look, it'll be ok. She didn't question at all that the police had sent me round there. Like I said, she's used to being visited. It’s not going to be a problem.'
There was a long delay before he spoke. 'Yeah, fine. I'm sure it'll be fine.'
'Well, what's your problem, then?' Impatience made Clancy speak unusually irritably. As soon as she had spoken, she regretted it. She started to mouth an apology, but before she could speak, Hamish put his hand up, interrupting her.
'No, it's my fault, sorry. Actually, it’s nothing to do with that. It’s Jill. She's not well. They think it's some sort of dementia. Probably related to the drink.'
Clancy felt her face freeze. She immediately reached out, touched his cheek with her hand. It was warm, and she could feel short stubble beneath her fingers.
'I'm so sorry. When did you find out?'
'Oh, if I'm honest, I've known for a while. I've told you, she's different. Paranoid, frightened even. And she's been hitting out at stuff…at me. It's a nightmare.' He stared down into his glass, but then turned his head to the left. She could feel the warmth of his breath on her chin, she couldn't help herself, just tipped herself forward. Very slowly, their faces moved closer, their lips sought each other's. They only touched for a few seconds before Hamish jumped back, shook his head.
'Sorry, sorry. What am I thinking?' he said.
Clancy's felt her cheeks burning. Oh my God, that was so embarrassing. She must have thrown herself at him. She was so out of bloody practice at this romance shit. She had blown it now. He sat, staring into his drink, but then reached out and covered her hand with his. She could feel callouses rubbing against her skin, pushed her hand up into them.
'Sorry, Clance, I shouldn't have done that. It’s not your fault…I guess I get lonely, what with Jill and all… It won't change anything?'
The relief washed over her like a shower. 'Of course not.' She looked up at him, just stopped herself from grabbing his hand as he pulled it away. Today was not the day to confess how she felt, that was clear.
27
Beth
She couldn't help but read significance into every email. Even though she was aware other people would think they were spam, she knew they were portentous.
Beth was sitting on her sofa, sipping tea, staring out of her kitchen window, her laptop open before her. The morning was grey but dry. The clouds were low, oppressive. She had planned a walk to the shops, she needed to get more food. But her heart raced as she thought of all the people outside. She took some deep breaths, tried to distract herself as she had been taught, to focus on something normal and ignore the paranoia. In an effort to do that, she carried on scrolling through her emails. Methodically opening, reading, replying, if necessary, deleting.
She had put the radio on. LBC was playing in the background, Andrew Castle warning of the risks of Brexit. The room was cool, the slight lemon smell of surface cleanser from her super-clean earlier hanging in the air. She was trying, she really was, but still she couldn't focus, her thoughts were jumbled, her mind suspicious of everything.
She shifted in her seat, finding it hard to find comfort. She was just about to give up and slap her laptop shut when she heard a crack. It came from outside, in the garden. She was immediately standing, her pulse racing, her chest tight. She strode towards the window, stared out. She could see a dark shape by the tree to the side of the garden gate. A man: long black trench-coat, dark hair, a malevolent presence. He seemed to stare directly at her, although she couldn't make out his face. And then, he turned, swung round, coat tails flapping and ran out of the gate, leaving as quickly as chased prey.
Beth raced to the door, fumbling with the locks, eventually managed to throw it open. She stood on the doorstep – too scared to chase down the garden path. No sign of life, no movement, no darkly clothed men.
Have I just imagined that? She looked at the ground by the tree and froze. There was no mistaking this, no imagining. A pair of footprints – large, flat, male – imprinted into the soft earth under the tree. She was being watched, she knew it, and now, she had evidence.
Her arms pimpled with goosebumps, tears welled. What do I do now? She couldn't call the police – they never believed her. Suze didn't believe her. No one believed her. She clenched her fists in frustration. And then, she remembered Dr Mclean. She might not believe her, but she seemed to care anyway. And she had her mobile number. She ran in, grabbed her phone, scrolled and pressed dial. Got a ring tone. Answer, please answer. And then, a calm reassuring voice.
'Hello, Clancy Mclean...'
'You need to help me, please help me. I'm being watched – a man.' The words tumbled out.
'Is that you, Beth?'
'Yes, I need help. Now. She knew her words were unclear, would be barely decipherable.
'What? Where are you?'
'I'm at home.'
'Wait there. I'll be five minutes. Don't go anywhere.' The phone clicked silent.
28
Clancy
Her concentration was such that her mobile bursting into life made her jolt, so much that she nearly spilt her tea. She dug it out from under a copy of The Guardian and accepted the call. She could hear what sounded like a wail of distress. Her first thought was Rowan, but that was ridiculous, she was upstairs in bed. And then, she realised it was Beth, could make out her begging for help through the sobbing.
'What? Where are you? Wait there, I'll be five minutes.' She jumped up, grabbed her bag, swore under her breath as she scrambled through the bottom of it for her keys. Where the bloody hell are they? Eventually, her fingers located them, she ran out of the front door whilst simultaneously trying to pull her coat on. She threw herself in the driver's seat, started the engine and pulled into the traffic with a small screech of brakes, heading towards Sutton.
She parked in Lind Road, not worrying that her car was a foot from the kerb, and hurried up the path to Beth's door, ringing the bell firmly. She heard rattling of locks, and then, the door opened. Strands of blonde hair stuck to Beth’s face,
a sodden tissue was screwed up in her hand.
Clancy reached forward and took her hand. 'It's ok. I'm here now, no-one's going to hurt you. Now, tell me what happened.'
Between gasped breaths, Beth filled her in. They walked to the gate, examined the footprints. There did appear to be imprints in the ground, a scuffled area where someone could have turned to run off. It was a possibility that someone had been standing there watching, but it wasn't convincing. It was hard to know if there had been, or if it was part of Beth's imagination.
'I can't stay here, I really can't, not now.'
'How about I take you to hospital?' But Clancy stopped talking as she saw Beth tense. 'Ok, ok, sorry.' Clancy hesitated, her breathing accelerated slightly. Was it worth the risk? She knew it would be frowned upon, but she just couldn't see another option. There would be trouble if anyone found out, but who would know? Her hand moved to the back of her neck, ran over her scab as she spoke. 'Look, you can come back to mine for a while, if you want. Do you think you'd feel safe there?'
Beth's hair fell forward as she clasped Clancy's hand. 'Really? You'd do that for me?'
'Yes. But it's on one condition. You have to start taking your Olanzapine again.'
Beth dropped her hand, lowered her gaze. 'But I don't want to…'
Clancy was firm. 'Really, Beth, I can't have you at my house unless you take the medication. It's not a lot to ask.'
Beth gave one nod of her head.
'Well, that's settled, then, and you can stay tonight. Go and get some things. And make sure you remember your tablets.'
She watched as Beth starting to shove items into a rucksack, went to the bathroom and grabbed toiletries. She spent a few minutes in her bedroom, came out with an armful of things, pushed them in the top of the pack.
'Ok, I'm ready. Let's get out of here…' Beth turned off the lights, rushed towards the front door, ushered Clancy though, before turning and carefully locking up. Finally, she pulled the door handle, seemingly to double check that it was fixed, before following Clancy down the path and to her Golf.