The Dead Ex

by Jane Corry

  ‘Nothing,’ whispered Scarlet, glancing across at Dawn who was now pretending to be asleep. ‘I just rolled off the mattress.’

  ‘Careful. Or you’ll get a bruise.’

  His voice was softer than his wife’s. He padded towards her. His feet were bare, and he only had pyjama bottoms on. His stomach flopped down over the waistband as though it needed folding to be tidied up. ‘Let me sort you out.’

  Scarlet held her breath. Surely he’d see the shape hiding under Dawn’s duvet?

  But no. He seemed to spend a long time, kneeling down beside her and rearranging the duvet. ‘That’s better,’ he grunted, getting up. ‘Should keep you nice and safe now.’ He stood over her for a bit, looking down. Scarlet’s skin began to crawl. Even in the dark, she could see that the back of his head was all shiny and bare on top. Then he seemed to shake himself and began walking towards the door.

  ‘No more noise, do you hear me,’ he said in a loud voice. ‘Or there’ll be trouble.’

  ‘Fucking hell,’ breathed Dawn, emerging from the covers. ‘That was close. Ta, Scarlet. You was great.’

  ‘Reckon he’s got the hots for you,’ whispered Darren. ‘Just like Kayleigh …’

  ‘Fuck off,’ hissed Dawn. ‘If that man ever comes near one of us again, I’ll cut his balls off. See if I don’t. And yours too, if you don’t behave.’

  ‘Who’s Kayleigh?’ whispered Scarlet after the boy had gone.

  ‘It doesn’t matter.’

  But Dawn said it in the kind of voice that Mum used when something did matter.

  ‘What did he mean when he said Mr W had the hots for me?’

  ‘Come off it. You already told me you know about the game. It’s the same thing. Means he wants to get into your knickers.’

  ‘I don’t get it.’

  ‘You’re not kidding me, are you?’ Dawn tiptoed out of her bed and perched on the end of Scarlet’s mattress. It was so narrow that there was only just room. ‘Listen, love. I don’t know what your life was like before you came here. But I’ll tell you something for free. There are blokes out there who would do anything to you. Sometimes that’s great, cos you can use them. Sometimes it’s bad, cos they use you.’ She made a strange sound in her throat. ‘That Mr W. He’s not a good man.’

  ‘Did he hurt Kayleigh?’

  ‘I’m not saying.’

  But the pain on her friend’s face in the streetlight streaming through the gap in the curtains made Scarlet pretty sure that she’d guessed right there.

  ‘Mr W seemed so kind. He didn’t want me to get any bruises.’

  ‘Hah!’ Dawn rolled her eyes. ‘That’s cos he doesn’t want any awkward questions asked by the Social. If they spot any marks, they might blame the foster parents. Then Mr and Mrs W will lose their money.’

  ‘What money?’

  ‘For Chrissake, Scarlet. You don’t think they take us in here cos they’re nice, do you? They do it cos they get paid for it.’

  ‘Really?’

  Dawn groaned. ‘I can see I’ve got my work cut out with you. Just as well I’m your friend. Mind you, it’s a bloody nuisance about you seeing your mum on Friday. We was planning to do the next job then. So we’ll do it the day after tomorrow instead.’

  ‘Do you mean I’ve got to take more DVDs?’

  ‘You’ve got it.’ Dawn patted her on the shoulders. ‘Now move over. I’m fucking freezing.’

  She slid in beside her, arms around Scarlet’s back. She and Mum used to sleep like that. It was comforting. And suddenly it was morning again.

  ‘Right,’ said ginger Darren on Thursday when the bus dropped them outside school. ‘Remember the plan. We do the register so they think we’re here and then we slip out as soon as we can. Good thing we’re in different classes today. With any luck, they won’t notice till it’s too late.’

  But Scarlet couldn’t concentrate for excitement. Tomorrow, first thing, the social worker was coming to pick her up. They were going to drive to a place called Aitch Em Pee Something to see Mum.

  ‘Soon as you can, get out,’ carried on Darren, ‘go straight to the shopping centre. You – Scarlet – do what you did before. Wait by the door until we’ve pushed a stand of stuff over. Then run in and grab what you can. Got it?’

  ‘Not too many, or you’ll drop them again,’ chipped in Dawn.

  ‘Who’s fucking in charge here?’

  Dawn scowled. ‘Don’t get all pissy with me, or I won’t let you in tonight.’

  ‘Who says I want to?’

  ‘You lot going to argue all fuckin’ day?’ This was Kieran. ‘Let’s get on with it, shall we?’

  Dawn gave her the thumbs-up after the first lesson had ended. The next one was PE, so it was quite easy to ‘get lost’ in the walk to the playing field.

  ‘You can do it,’ encouraged her friend as they legged it down the street.

  The boys were waiting. ‘Let’s go.’

  It all happened so fast! First, Darren knocked over the stand. Then Dawn gave her a ‘Now’ shove, which sent her flying. She stumbled over her shoe and then righted herself, remembering her instructions. Go for the section marked NEW RELEASES. One. Two. Three. Maybe a fourth. Scarlet hugged them to her chest and made to run back towards the door. But a big man in black trousers was standing there. Huge arms folded. Feet wide apart. Glaring at her like his eyes were on fire.

  Crouching down, Scarlet flung herself between the man’s legs. Out the other side. Faster. Faster. Knocking into an old lady with one of those walking frames.

  ‘My leg!’ she screamed.

  ‘I’m sorry.’ Scarlet ran back towards her. ‘Are you all right? I didn’t mean to –’

  That was when she felt those big arms on hers. She was being marched now towards the main doors of the shopping centre. ‘You’re hurting me!’ she tried to say. But fear kept the words inside.

  Everyone was looking. There was no sign of Dawn or Darren or any of the others.

  Into a police car like the one that had taken her away from the park. There was a woman in the back, wearing uniform and no smile. ‘What’s your name?’

  Don’t tell them nothing if they catch you. That’s what they’d told her.

  Scarlet pressed her lips together to make sure they obeyed.

  ‘What do you think you were doing? Stealing’s bad enough. But knocking an old lady to the ground is wicked.’

  Her eyes filled with tears. This time she couldn’t stop the words. ‘I didn’t mean it. Is she going to be all right?’

  ‘Would you be all right if you were old and some kid attacked you? Now, empty your pockets.’

  Reluctantly she handed over her rubber, pencil and new spellings book.

  Scarlet Darling.

  The policewoman shook her head as she read the name on the cover. ‘Right, Scarlet. So what’s your mum called?’

  Her voice was squeaky with nerves. ‘Zelda.’

  ‘Got a mobile phone number for her?’

  ‘She has to use a pay phone cos she’s in a place called Aitch Em Pee, where they don’t let you have mobiles.’

  Something changed in the policewoman’s face. ‘Right.’

  ‘I’m seeing her tomorrow! The social worker’s going to take me.’

  ‘We might have to see about that.’

  Scarlet got a sick feeling in the pit of her stomach. Might have to see. That was something Mum said when she really meant I don’t think so.

  ‘But I’ve got to see my mum. I have to. I haven’t cuddled her since they took her away from me, because of the game.’

  ‘What game?’ demanded the other policewoman sharply.

  Maybe she shouldn’t have mentioned that.

  ‘I can’t remember.’

  ‘How convenient. Well, when we get to the station, maybe you can remember what those other kids asked you to do. Don’t think you’ve got to cover for them. And don’t go getting excited about seeing your mother tomorrow. You’ll be up before the judge instead.’

 
I sell oils to my clients sometimes.

  One of the most popular is frankincense which is part of my special ‘Escape’ gift pack. After all, we all want to get away, don’t we? Including me.

  Looking back, I wonder how on earth I got into this mess. My only excuse is that I was bruised. Vulnerable. Then I met David, who made me feel special.

  If only I’d known then what I do now.

  13

  Vicki

  1 March 2018

  I wait for the police to call me, but the phone stays silent. So I cancel my appointment with Lily Macdonald. Perhaps they’ve forgotten about me. Perhaps they’re building a case. But I’m still uneasy. Eventually, my uncertainty triumphs and I ring them.

  ‘There’s something you should know,’ I say.

  They ask me to come down to the police station. When I get there, Vine buzzes me through. It’s more modern than the ones I’ve been used to. Streamlined desks. Big-paned windows. Comfortable chairs.

  ‘Just been done up,’ says the detective, as if reading my expression.

  I suddenly have a flashback of handcuffs on my wrists. Do they know about that? If not, it can only be a matter of time.

  There is no one with Vine, but I suspect that at least one person – if not two – is listening in.

  ‘So, you said you had something to tell us.’

  I twist my hands under the desk, wondering if I am doing the right thing now I am here.

  ‘The thing is,’ I say, ‘that my husband … I mean ex-husband … has done this before.’

  He’s waiting. Silence is an effective weapon. I’ve been taught well. I also know that the right words are crucial when it comes to defence.

  ‘He used to go walkabout when we were married,’ I say.

  The right eyebrow rises. There’s a strand of silver in it. David – who was always looking in the mirror – had a fear of going grey prematurely. He’d spend ages combing his dark hair, examining it for any trace or (almost worse in his eyes) a bald patch. ‘What exactly do you mean by that?’

  ‘My ex would disappear, sometimes for days on end. Then he’d claim he’d told me where he was going. But he hadn’t.’

  ‘I see.’

  It’s obvious he doesn’t believe me. I lean forward in my desperation. ‘It began soon after we were married. He didn’t come home one night. I thought he’d had an accident and even phoned the police. Why don’t you check? It must be on your files somewhere.’

  ‘Can you remember the exact date?’

  I know when Mum died. Patrick’s date is engraved in my heart. So too is the evening I met David. But I can’t be certain of this one. ‘Only the year and the month.’

  He makes a half smile, as though humouring me. ‘So where was he?’

  ‘On a business trip to Hong Kong, he said.’

  ‘And you’re sure he didn’t tell you? Or is it possible you’ve forgotten?’

  ‘It was before I got …’ I start to say.

  He nods. I’m glad. I try to say the E word as little as possible.

  ‘How often did this happen?’

  ‘Several times. At the end, I’m not sure if it was work or …’ I swallow hard ‘… or pleasure.’

  I spit the last bit out with bitterness. He doesn’t miss it.

  ‘Why haven’t you mentioned this before?’

  ‘I was embarrassed.’

  It’s true.

  ‘Your ex-husband married his PA very soon after you broke up, I believe.’

  I nod curtly, not trusting myself to say anything.

  ‘And you think that’s what he’s doing now? Taking a business trip, or even seeing someone else?’

  ‘Well, it’s possible, isn’t it?’

  He shrugs. ‘Mrs Goudman says she has no idea where he is.’

  I laugh. ‘Nor did I!’

  I almost tell him my suspicions that Tanya might know where David is. Then again, he might think I’m trying to shift the blame.

  ‘Do you have any proof of what you’ve just told me?’ he asks.

  I think of my surety hidden in the Bills file. Isn’t that why I’m here? To hand it over? But the detective’s cool attitude makes me wonder if he will believe me. He might even think I’ve forged it to get David into trouble. It seems I can’t win.

  ‘Not exactly.’

  ‘What do you mean by that?’

  ‘I’m not a detective like you. Just a woman who is trying to make the best of things after her whole bloody life has been turned upside down.’

  I’m not the swearing type. I don’t mean to be angry or hit my fists on the desk like this. Yet I want to scream and shout to make this man understand that I honestly don’t know why my ex-husband has disappeared. But most importantly, I need to convince me.

  He pushes a box of tissues in my direction. They’re man-size. It reminds me of the one occasion when I found David crying in front of a TV drama about a boy whose father beat him up for some minor misdemeanour. It was the only time I ever saw him shed tears. When I asked if he was all right, my husband flicked channels and said he didn’t want to talk about it.

  The anger is subsiding now. I want to go home. To snuggle up on the sofa with a soft blanket. To dab lavender on my temples. Besides, I’ve got another client coming over soon. Unless she’s cancelled too.

  Detective Inspector Vine is tapping his index finger on his left wrist as if thinking to himself. Then he frowns. I find myself wondering if he’s ever cried as an adult. I suspect not.

  ‘And you honestly still can’t explain the photograph which showed you arguing with your husband two months before he disappeared?’

  He’s got to believe me! ‘No. I can’t. Maybe it was doctored. They can do that sort of thing.’

  ‘They?’

  ‘Experts. Someone who has it in for me.’

  ‘And who might that be?’

  So he can’t know about my background. Unless he is playing double bluff and waiting for me to tell him.

  ‘You’re the detective,’ I say.

  He makes a you’ve got me there gesture. ‘You’re obviously upset. Would you like someone to drive you home?’

  His voice is gentler. I don’t trust it. I knew where I was with the blunter approach.

  ‘Can it be an unmarked car? No uniform? I don’t want the neighbours to see.’

  ‘I’ll do what I can.’

  I’m escorted through the door and into the main waiting area. And then I see her, sitting on a chair. Black eyeliner. Smudges underneath. Short black skirt. Opaque black tights. Knee-length black suede boots with a high heel. That heavy scent which sickens me from here.

  What is she doing here in Cornwall? Is it possible that she has come to lodge a complaint against me?

  ‘Tanya,’ I croak. But the woman ignores me. Then I realize it’s not her after all. It’s another tarty-looking bitch.

  ‘Are you all right?’ asks the policeman.

  I nod, feeling stupid. What must he think of me, saying the woman’s name out loud like that?

  Crazy. That’s what. And maybe he’s right.

  14

  Scarlet

  They took her to a tall grey building which had big black letters on the outside.

  ‘P–O–L–I–C–E,’ spelled out Scarlet.

  The policewoman’s face softened. ‘Like reading, do you?’

  Scarlet nodded. ‘My mum taught me before I even went to school.’

  ‘Is that so?’ The lips tightened. ‘How old are you exactly? Eleven? Twelve?’

  ‘If I tell you, will you let me see Mum?’

  ‘I’ll do my best.’

  ‘Eight.’

  There was a frown. ‘But you’re so tall.’

  ‘I know.’ Scarlet nodded again so that the beads in her braids flew into the air. ‘So was my dad.’

  This was one of the few facts she knew about him, so she always hung on to it tightly.

  ‘Great. Just great.’

  Had she done something wrong again?


  They were inside now, standing before a glass screen. Behind it sat a man in a black uniform with a scar on his cheek. It reminded Scarlet of the time she’d cut herself on a kitchen knife, peeling potatoes for dinner as a surprise for Mum before she came home. She ought to have stitches, Mum had said when she’d found her covered in blood. But instead, she put a plaster on it cos Social Services might ask questions.

  ‘Got a problem here, Joe,’ called out the policewoman. ‘This one might be younger than she looks. That’s if she’s telling the truth. Won’t tell us where she lives, and her only ID is the name on her school book. Scarlet Darling. Fancy, eh?’

  Groaning, the man in black picked up the phone. ‘Get Social over here, can you? We could have an under the age of criminal intent here.’

  ‘What’s that?’ asked Scarlet.

  The policewoman was looking really pissed off. ‘It means you won’t be going to court after all. Tell me, Scarlet. Did the other kids put you up to this?’

  Don’t tell.

  ‘What other kids?’

  ‘She might be a baby, but she’s good,’ sniffed the man with the scar.

  ‘I’m not a baby!’ Scarlet was indignant. ‘I’m as good as any adult. That’s what Mum says. I help her with the shopping and cleaning when she’s not feeling good. At least I did until they took her to the Aitch Em Pee.’

  ‘If you don’t start behaving, you’ll end up in the same place yourself. Do you get what I’m saying?’

  Not really, but it seemed safer to nod. And after that, they just sat and waited as the clock ticked by.

  ‘Scarlet!’

  It was Camilla, the social worker with the shaggy fringe who had taken her to Mrs Walters’ house.

  ‘Know this kid, do you? Caught her nicking stuff. An old lady got her ankle sprained.’

  There was a sigh. Then Camilla whispered something to the policewoman, but Scarlet managed to hear. ‘Her mother’s on remand, and she’s under an interim care order. Poor kid’s in emergency foster placement with the Walters.’

  ‘So there’s nothing we can do about it apart from giving her a bollocking and sending her back to this family.’

  ‘It might change if the mother goes down.’