by Paul Clayton
The air began to chill in the early evening. She crouched down to pick up the magazines strewn on the ground by her sunbed and was conscious of someone standing over her. It was Eric.
‘Marta tells me you had a bath this morning.’
Little Girl smiled at him. ‘I did, thank you. It was wonderful.’
‘Go and take one now,’ he replied. ‘We have visitors coming this evening and you need to be clean.’
She always remembered that second bath as the last time she felt that she owned her body. In the time that followed, she lost count of the number of people who visited in the evening. Men of all ages and all sizes. Some were rough, some did nothing more than try to talk to her, but none were welcome. By the time darkness edged its way through the small window in her room, tears often filled her eyes. She would run to the bathroom after her visitor for the evening left, trying to scour away their touch on her skin. After a while she stopped. She realised she would never clean everything away. She would fall into a numb ache of sleep, clutching one of the pillows in a desperate embrace.
Left to her own devices during the day, she tried all the doors and windows but found them locked or screwed down. Some places she couldn’t get into at all; her movements were limited to her room, the lounge, the garden and the kitchen.
When Marta was in the house, she worked in another room which Little Girl thought might be an office. Once, when the door was left ajar as Marta visited the kitchen, Little Girl caught a glimpse of a brightly lit television screen with numbers all over it. It sat on a desk covered with papers.
Breakfast was set out on the table in the garden every morning. She saw no one until the evening.
Marta acted as some kind of hostess for the visitors, but Eric was invariably the one who brought them to Little Girl’s bedroom door. Some nights there were two of them, some nights there were more. One evening, there were seven. Afterwards she lay on the bed and held the pillow close to her like some long-lost lover and cried into it.
Sleep was her companion, bringing oblivion, but she was woken next morning by the scent of them in the room. Sweat and semen. She went to the bathtub and lay for hours, soaking in perfumed oils and creams. Then, having dressed, she drifted around the house looking for anything that might help her in some way. The house was spartan. There was nothing to be found other than a few magazines and the plates and cups in the kitchen.
This hunt became her daily routine. It took her a month to discover the gas canister.
Chapter Forty-Six
Frankie had taken a lot of jobs over the years. Some had lasted longer than others; some had given her no guarantee of hours or earnings – flexible working, her employers called it. No way to feed a family was how she saw it. Yet, as a single mum in ever-changing circumstances, sometimes the no-fixed-hours option was the best way to get work. Whatever the job, she always had a tingle in her stomach on the day she started. Today she thought there was a volcano erupting inside her.
Having got up early, she dressed with some thought for once, rather than dragging the first two items out of the wardrobe. Sharing a bedroom with a teenage daughter didn’t offer much privacy or cupboard space. Knowing she still had weight to lose, she managed to find a pair of smart jeans with an elasticated waist, washed and ready to wear. A loose, light-blue tunic top gave her the smart ready-for-the-office look she thought she would require for her first day.
Shannon was in the bathroom, so she took a seldom-used tube of tinted moisturiser out of her daughter’s drawer and applied a little, together with some blusher, which she then rubbed hard to remove. She wasn’t one for makeup, but if it helped then it was all to the good. You never get a second chance to make a first impression, Shannon claimed. Internet wisdom, no doubt, but Frankie thought it as good a motto as any for her first day.
She studied herself in the mirror. This was it. The start of a fresh life. Regular money, good money, to give her some freedom and to provide her and the kids with a better life. She was pulling her stomach in and holding her breath to try to give herself the silhouette she craved when Shannon burst into the room. ‘Are you going to be late on your first day, Mum?’
‘Oh God, sorry, love. I wish I wasn’t quite so fat.’
‘You’re not fat, Mum.’ Shannon hesitated a moment. ‘You’re curvaceous.’
Frankie laughed and picked up her bag. ‘Curvaceous I’ll take.’
They headed out and walked to the car accompanied by the boys. The atmosphere on the drive to school was boisterous and excited, all of them picking up on Frankie’s nerves and letting them raise their chatter to fever pitch.
Frankie was glad when the car was empty and she was alone with her thoughts. One thing she hadn’t done was any planning on where to park. She pulled into the car park behind the cinema. It was going to cost eight pounds for the day. Frankie made a mental note to ask her new workmates in the office where was the best place to leave the car, otherwise most of her new wage would be going straight back to the council in parking fees.
She stuck a ticket on the windscreen and crossed the road outside the cinema. The office she was to report to lay halfway down the high street in a small modern block. She gazed into shop windows as she strode along, imagining being able to pop out in her lunch hour to shop each day rather than being stuck on an industrial estate as she had been at the Techno Factory.
Taking one last glimpse of herself in a newsagent’s window, she drew a deep breath and bumped straight into Cora. ‘Hello, stranger, fancy seeing you.’
‘It’s not a coincidence,’ said Cora.
Frankie thought she looked rather serious. ‘I wanted to catch you before you go in. I wanted to wish you good luck, privately, of course.’ She took Frankie’s hand in hers. Holding it tightly, she looked into her eyes. ‘I just hope you do well. It’s everything you deserve.’ A smile crept slowly across Cora’s lips, forcing its way to her eyes.
Frankie swallowed hard. This wasn’t the moment to get emotional. Seeing Cora made her realise how grateful she was, how the woman in front of her had changed everything. She could never repay her. ‘It’s so kind of you. Not only helping me apply and all, but being here this morning. Thank you, Cora. It’s been a bit strange not seeing you for a while. It wasn’t the easiest of Christmases, but this is my fresh start this morning.’
Cora released her hands. ‘What about us having a little glass of wine at Snifters when you finish? To celebrate?’
‘That would be great. I’ll ask Jonny to sort the other two out after school, and it’s my treat. No argument.’
Cora laughed. ‘No argument. See you there.’
She turned and the green-and-yellow coat swirled into the morning crowds on the high street and disappeared.
Converted from a shop, the office they had summoned her to was where all the childcare assistants based themselves. They reported in with their paperwork before heading out to the nurseries and childcare facilities in Langley.
The ground floor of the shop was open plan. With five or six desks and computer stations dotted around the room, the only one occupied was nearest to the door. A young man, with curled inky hair and a tanned complexion that looked like it might be out of a tube, was pumping away at his keyboard. Obviously something was wrong. He looked up as Frankie closed the door and stood in front of his desk.
‘Can I help you?’ He had washed-out green eyes, as if the colour had run. When he spoke, the playful tune of his voice lit up his face into a broad beam of a smile. What an excellent person to be sitting on a reception desk, thought Frankie.
‘Good morning, I’m Frankie Baxter.’ She smiled at the young man.
‘Good morning, Mrs Baxter.’
‘Ms Baxter.’
‘Of course. I’m Lewis, general dogsbody and helpmate.’ He stood up and came out from behind his desk. ‘If you’re here with an application for childcare services,
you’re a little early.’
Frankie loved Geordies. She hoped the job meant she saw a fair bit more of Lewis, even though he looked a good eight or nine years her junior. ‘No. I’m not here for childcare services. Or rather, I am. I’m here to start work. I start today. Childcare assistant. Did my online training and I was told to be here by nine this morning.’
Lewis’s eyebrows furrowed like two caterpillars doing a mating dance, a bewildered expression distorting his features. ‘Let me just check, Ms Baxter.’
‘Call me Frankie, please.’ Frankie gave a nervous grin.
Lewis sat down again and squinted at his screen. ‘Let me be up front with you, Frankie. I think someone’s made a mistake and forgotten to put it in the book. First day back after Christmas, bound to be that.’ His eyebrows tugged themselves apart and the wattage of his smile increased. ‘How’s about I make you a coffee and you hang on until Mrs Soyinka gets in? She runs things here and if anybody is likely to know what’s going on, it’ll be her. Sugar?’
Frankie sipped at the remains of her coffee and put the cup back down on the corner of Lewis’s desk. She’d managed to make the drink last nearly thirty minutes while feigning interest in messages on her phone. She sent a text to Jonny to ask him to collect Henry and Shannon after school. A bottle of wine with Cora would more than make up for this hiatus, a chance to thank her properly for the job. She wanted to get started, having raced through breakfast and the school run to make sure she was here on time. Half an hour of sitting around wasn’t helping her nerves.
By now, more people had appeared in the office. Calling New Year greetings to Lewis, they sat at their separate desks. Frankie felt more and more uncomfortable sitting on her chair by the door as several pairs of eyes peered over computer screens at her.
She was about to ask Lewis if there was anyone he could call when the door burst open and a whirlwind of scarves and bags entered the office. In the midst of them was a sizeable woman, large to the extent that Frankie felt like a supermodel in comparison. The roundness of her face was heightened by a multi-coloured beanie hat tugged low onto her head. Several colourful, jangling necklaces gave the impression of a human wind chime. She had the widest eyes Frankie had ever seen and the most beautiful skin. Above all, she had the look of a listener. A problem solver, Frankie hoped, as she stood up to say hello.
***
‘Slow down and tell me one more time.’
Frankie had been sitting at Mrs Soyinka’s desk for the last twenty minutes. Even though Lewis had dispensed a second cup of coffee, she didn’t feel that any significant progress was being made. ‘I applied for a job as a childcare assistant at Langley nursery.’ Her speech slowed right down. She was keen not to go through the whole story again. To ensure Mrs Soyinka understood it, she over-articulated in the way the English do when they’re ordering beer and chips on the Costa del Sol. ‘I filled out the form online and applied.’
‘I hear what you’re saying, dear. No need to treat me as though I’m simple,’ said Mrs Soyinka. ‘It’s just that it doesn’t make any sense. How can you be here for a job when no one has ever met you before?’
Frankie took a deep breath and gripped the desk to keep her composure. ‘Look, I’m not sure I’m supposed to tell you this. My friend, Cora Walsh, is a Senior Assessment Officer. She helped me with the application.’ She waited to see if there was any flicker of recognition from Mrs Soyinka at the mention of Cora’s name. ‘I’ve done everything else above board. And I’ve got the letters and emails from other supervisors and people who initiated my training at home.’
Mrs Soyinka clicked her mouse and swung her computer screen in Frankie’s direction. There was a picture of an Indian man in his mid-forties wearing a broad smile and a light-blue shirt. He was smiling at the camera in the way people do when they don’t know where else to look. ‘That’s Mr Derek Pravasana. Derek is the Social Services Senior Supervisor for childcare in Langley.’ She contemplated Frankie for a moment. ‘I’m sorry, Mrs Baxter. I’ve never heard of Cora Walsh. There’s nothing coming up on the staff list under that name.’
Frankie scrabbled in her lap and unzipped the case she’d bought on the shopping trip with Shannon, a little embarrassed now about how cheap it looked. ‘I’ve got the other emails.’ She rummaged in her bag. ‘Here. Printed them all out, just in case I needed them. Everything’s here.’
She put four pieces of paper in front of Mrs Soyinka. ‘These are emails from different people. One telling me I’d got through the first round, from a Sheila Ferguson. Another talking to me about my training from Victoria Adams, and a third one with all the details for starting today from Siobhan Fahy. And here I am.’
Mrs Soyinka stared at the pages and then looked up at Frankie. ‘I’ve never heard of these people. I’ll do a check on the personnel list, but something tells me that, like Cora Walsh, they’re not going to show up.’
Frankie couldn’t understand how this could be happening. Cora had arranged it all and led her through it. Cora was in charge. She’d organised the training and everything.
‘The thing is, we don’t train anybody online. If you’d applied for a job, you would have come in and done an interview, and possibly a second one. Then you would have attended a training session at one of our centres. In fact, if you’d got so far as getting a job, you wouldn’t be here at all. You’d be at whichever nursery facility you were starting at.’
‘But I did get a job.’ Frankie fought back tears of desperation. ‘Langley Park.’
Mrs Soyinka picked up her phone. ‘Let me give them a call and double check. I won’t be a minute.’
Frankie was aware of at least seven pairs of eyes looking at her. Lewis sat at his computer, staring in her direction. She smiled at him. ‘Do you have a problem?’
His head shot back to his screen as he started to tap away on his keyboard. Noise filled Frankie’s head, a sound of hedge trimmers cutting through the warm stillness of a sultry summer’s afternoon. An indistinct buzzing preventing her from hearing what Mrs Soyinka was saying. She could feel moisture seeping under her arms and began to worry in case it started to show. Reaching into her bag, she took out a tissue to mop her armpits. Breathe in and breathe out. Breathe in, breathe out, just as she’d been told to do when having her anxiety attacks.
Mrs Soyinka replaced her phone. She wasn’t smiling. ‘Langley Park haven’t advertised for a new childcare assistant in over nine months.’
‘But they did,’ protested Frankie, the pitch of her voice beginning to rise. ‘They did. I got an email. I replied to it and that’s when they sent me the online questionnaire. My daughter helped me fill it in.’
She saw Mrs Soyinka scribble on her notepad. ‘There’s something wrong here. You’ve printed out the emails, which is very helpful, but if we could see them on your computer, we might be able to trace where they came from.’
‘What do you mean? They came from you. This is ridiculous. This is typical of any council organisation, your right hand not knowing what your left hand is doing. I’ve put a hell of a lot of work into this. Gave up my job. All ’cos I was getting this. Signed off benefits and stuff. Got an overdraft for Christmas ’cos I start this today. Now you’re telling me that somebody’s lost my application.’
‘I’m not saying anything about a lost application, Ms Baxter.’ Frankie could hear Mrs Soyinka’s patience was wearing thin. Well, that was tough. This was Frankie’s fresh start, her livelihood, her big chance. Why couldn’t the woman just check with her superiors?
As the thought came to her, Frankie pulled her phone out of her bag. She pressed through to Cora’s number and dialled. Mrs Soyinka leaned forward. ‘I’m sorry, but we don’t allow people to use personal phones in the office.’
‘I’m ringing Miss Walsh. I’ll leave a message. Soon as she gets it, I’m sure she’ll sort all this out.’ As Frankie expected, the call went straight through to an ans
wering machine.
‘Cora, I’m in the childcare assistance office. I’m dealing with Mrs …?’
‘Soyinka. Winifred Soyinka. Office Director.’
‘Winifred Soyinka. They have no record of my application or my training, and they’re not expecting me. They’re saying that you don’t work here. I don’t know what’s going on. Could you call back? I’d appreciate it.’
Mrs Soyinka looked at Frankie and her enormous smile started to return. ‘This is all most unfortunate. Would it be possible for you to go home and get the laptop you received the emails on? I’m going to check things out at this end.’
Frankie nodded and stood up. ‘Thank you. I’ll be back as soon as I can. And if Cora calls me back, shall I ask her to ring you?’
‘Please do. If she is who she claims she is, she’ll have my number. I’m really sorry for all this trouble and upset, Ms Baxter. But it does look to me as if you’ve been the victim of some dreadful hoax.’
Chapter Forty-Seven
Lottie put her laptop into the largest of the three bags and stood at the door to watch for the taxi. The kids were both perched on the sofa with coats, gloves and scarves, looking a little bewildered. As the taxi appeared, Lottie checked around to make sure no one was watching the house, then she carried the children and the bags into the taxi and they drove off.
She should have walked out the first time Craig hit her, but with a second baby on the way she’d been uncertain what she would do and how she could support them. And she feared that it had been her fault. Craig worked hard. Had she sometimes made things tough for him? Being alone in the house all day with a child made her long for company. Had she asked too much of him when he came back home?