Survivor

by Roberta Kray

  ‘Who is it?’ a male voice shouted from inside.

  ‘Just a mate,’ Jude replied, glancing over his shoulder. He looked back at Lolly. ‘Dad’s here,’ he said, lowering his voice. ‘You can’t come in. Sorry.’

  ‘Oh, okay.’ She’d forgotten it was still early and that Mr Rule wouldn’t have gone to work yet. ‘It doesn’t matter. I’ll… er… I’ll…’ Her voice trailed off. She didn’t know what else to say.

  Jude must have seen her disappointment, and perhaps something else too, because he hesitated and then said, ‘Look, give me five minutes and I’ll meet you downstairs.’

  Lolly took the lift the rest of the way down. She went into the sunshine, walked a few yards to her right and sat with her back against the wall. Now she was outside with other people around her, the experience in the flat seemed distant and strange. The fear had retreated and she wondered if the feelings, the creak, the sense of being watched had all been a product of her imagination.

  It was closer to ten minutes – she was counting off the seconds in her head – before Jude finally showed up. He was carrying two small bottles of Fanta and he passed one over as he sat down beside her.

  ‘Ta,’ she said.

  ‘You still at Brenda’s?’

  ‘Yeah. She says I can stay if I want to.’

  ‘Do you?’

  Lolly shrugged. She took a swig from the bottle, swallowed and resisted the urge to burp. ‘They’ll put me in a home, otherwise. It could be anywhere, miles away.’

  ‘Right.’

  She wanted Jude to say he wanted her to stay, but he didn’t. ‘I guess it’s better than that. Even if I do have to live with FJ.’

  ‘He’s a right little shit.’

  ‘Yeah.’

  ‘Don’t let him push you around.’

  Lolly wasn’t quite sure how she was supposed to stop him, but she nodded anyway.

  ‘What about your dad?’ Jude asked. ‘Do you know where he is? Perhaps you could go and live with him.’

  ‘I don’t even know his name.’

  ‘It might be on your birth certificate. Your mum must have had a copy. It’ll be in the flat somewhere. Or you can get a copy from Somerset House. That’s where they keep all the records: births, deaths and marriages.’

  Lolly was always impressed by how much Jude knew; he was the smartest person she’d ever met. ‘Oh,’ she said. ‘Okay.’ Up until now she hadn’t thought much about her dad. There were lots of kids on the estate who didn’t have fathers, lots of single mums. She wondered why she hadn’t been more curious, why she hadn’t asked more questions. And now it was too late.

  ‘Or maybe Brenda knows who he is. Why don’t you ask her?’

  ‘She’d have said something, wouldn’t she?’

  ‘Maybe they’re trying to find him.’

  Lolly recalled what she’d heard: For as long as it takes. Perhaps that’s what Brenda had meant – for as long as it took to find her father.

  ‘Anyway, it’s not all bad,’ he said. ‘Think of it this way, in another five years you can move out of Brenda’s and get a place of your own.’

  Lolly couldn’t imagine that length of time; it felt like for ever. She drank some more Fanta and put the bottle down on the ground. She had something else on her mind and needed to share it. ‘Someone’s been in the flat. I was in there and I could tell.’

  ‘It was the police.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Yeah, a few hours after… I don’t know, maybe they were looking for a note or something.’

  ‘What kind of note?’

  Jude’s eyes briefly met hers before he glanced away again. ‘From your mum. People leave them sometimes when… I suppose they thought she might have.’

  ‘Why would there be a note? She didn’t jump,’ Lolly said hotly. ‘Did anyone see her jump? She didn’t do it on purpose. It wasn’t suicide. She must have fallen or been pushed.’ She gazed up towards the top of Carlton House and shuddered. ‘Yeah, someone could have pushed her.’

  Jude remained silent.

  ‘She wouldn’t,’ Lolly insisted. ‘I know she did some crazy things sometimes but she wouldn’t have done that. She wouldn’t have just gone off and left me.’

  ‘No, course she wouldn’t.’

  Lolly stared at him. She knew he was only saying it, that he didn’t really believe it. And it was probably what everyone else thought too. A flicker of doubt crossed her mind but she quickly dismissed it. She’d seen her mum in much worse states than she’d been the night before she died. Worried and restless was good compared to the black moods, to the days when she would barely speak and wouldn’t even get out of bed.

  ‘Did the police talk to you?’ he asked.

  ‘Yeah, they asked me some stuff. How she was and all that. They didn’t tell me anything, though. I don’t know what they’re going to do. I don’t know what happens next.’

  ‘I suppose there’ll be an inquest, a coroner’s report.’

  ‘What’s that?’

  ‘It’s where they look at all the evidence and come to a decision as to how she died.’

  ‘And then what?’

  Jude gave a shrug. ‘The funeral, I guess.’

  Lolly stared over at Carlton House again, her gaze rising to the upper floors. What if her mum had been right about being followed? Everyone ignored what she said because they thought she was crazy. It was like the story where the boy cried wolf. After a while no one believed a word that came out of his mouth. She glanced back at Jude.

  ‘Don’t you ever think about looking for your mum?’

  ‘Why should I?’ Jude said. ‘It’s not up to me. She knows where I am. If she wanted to see me, she could.’

  ‘Maybe something’s happened to her, an accident or —’

  ‘Something worse? Maybe it has. Maybe she’s dead. I hope so. She deserves to be.’

  Lolly stared at him, wide-eyed. ‘You don’t mean that.’

  Jude pushed back the lock of hair from his forehead. He suddenly looked awkward, embarrassed, as though he wished he could take the words back. ‘Sorry, I shouldn’t have said that. I wasn’t thinking.’

  ‘It’s all right.’

  Jude finished his Fanta, screwed the lid back on the bottle and left the bottle by the wall. He rose to his feet. ‘I’d better head off. I’m going up West with Dad.’

  ‘Oh, okay.’

  ‘See you, then,’ Jude said.

  ‘See you.’

  Lolly was beginning to feel weepy again. It kept coming over her, out of the blue. One moment she was fine, the next her bottom lip got all wobbly and she couldn’t trust herself to speak. She watched Jude stride back towards the lobby. When he reached the door, he didn’t turn to wave. He was already thinking about something else, someone else. She picked up his empty bottle of Fanta, unscrewed the cap, glanced around to make sure no one was watching and slipped the cap into her jacket pocket.

  Lolly stood up, wondering what to do next. She began to walk in an aimless fashion across the estate. The bag was heavy and she shifted it from one shoulder to the other. It was the first time in days she’d been away from Brenda’s and she wasn’t in any hurry to get back. She had a free pass until five-thirty and was going to make the most of it.

  Without making a conscious decision as to where she was going, she drifted towards Carlton House. She skirted round the square of grass, deliberately not looking over. She was afraid the blood might still be there, an indelible stain, and couldn’t bear to see it. At the entrance to the tower, she hesitated before passing into the cool gloom of the lobby. One of the lifts was open and she stepped inside, pressing the button for the top floor. Lolly didn’t know exactly where her mum had fallen from. Did anyone? If they did, they weren’t telling her. It could have been from lower down, but with no definite information she’d decided to head for the highest point. No one else stopped the lift and she ascended smoothly and alone.

  From the eighteenth floor, the view was spectacular; she could see
right across Kellston and beyond, for miles and miles. In the distance she could even spot the gleaming dome of St Paul’s. She leaned against the rail and lowered her gaze to the estate. The people looked like tiny stick figures, their features soft and blurred.

  While she stared down she wondered what her mother had been doing here in the first place. If she had decided to take her own life – and Lolly still didn’t believe this was true – then why traipse all the way over to Carlton House? Why not just open the balcony doors of their own flat, step outside and…

  Lolly glanced to her left and right, searching for evidence that her mum had been here, but there was none. Not even a feeling. She was on the wrong floor, perhaps. She leaned further over, trying to check out the one beneath. It was then, as her gaze flicked to the ground far below, that she felt a weird, pulling sensation, a frightening impulse to lean further and further until there was no going back, until the weight of her body tipped the balance and sent her hurtling towards the square of green beneath.

  Quickly she pulled back, tightly gripping the rail as she stood up straight again. Her heart was beating too fast. She retreated from the edge and leaned against the wall for a few seconds before dashing towards the lift. All she wanted was to be on solid ground again, to feel the earth beneath her feet. All she wanted was to be away from here.

  7

  By September Lolly was back at school. She had returned expecting the usual jeers and taunts but surprisingly they were not forthcoming. She could not say, hand on heart, that anyone was nice to her, but at least they left her alone. In her world this was progress and she was grateful for it. She was smart enough to realise that the break in hostilities was not down to any remorse or sympathy regarding her mother’s death, but rather to the fact that she was now living at the pawnbroker’s. No one messed with the Cecils, and if Lolly wasn’t exactly family she was close enough for the bullies to think twice about singling her out.

  Brenda fed her, clothed her, made sure she washed and always sent her to school looking presentable. There was no love there, though, not even a mild affection. Brisk efficiency was the order of the day. Lolly knew she was being tolerated, that she was in some way a means to an end, although she hadn’t yet figured out exactly what that end was.

  The coroner had made the decision that her mother’s death was down to suicide while the balance of her mind was disturbed – and no one cared what Lolly thought. The funeral, a dismal affair, had only been attended by herself, Brenda and Freddy. Even now she could feel the cool chill of the crematorium and hear the priest’s voice droning on in the almost empty building. The ashes, collected later, had been interred in Kellston cemetery and marked with a small wooden cross.

  ‘We’ll see about a headstone,’ Brenda said. ‘When we get things sorted out.’

  What those things were, Lolly had no way of knowing. Something to do with money, she presumed. What she did know was that there had been a problem with her mother’s birth certificate, or rather the lack of one. A search of the flat had revealed nothing. And nothing could be found at the records office either. Angela Bruce – if that was the name she’d been born with – appeared to be untraceable.

  There had been much conjecture by Brenda and Mrs Raynes, the social worker, as to why this might be. Had she been using a pseudonym, hiding from someone, in trouble with the law? Lolly had been interrogated at length, but couldn’t tell them anything useful. She had no memory of having a surname other than Bruce. Had her mother ever been married? Lolly didn’t think so. Well, not during the last six or seven years at least, and her memories of the time before this were too slippery to grasp. What about boyfriends? But Lolly couldn’t recall any of those either.

  Lolly’s own birth certificate was also missing. Without these two vital documents there was little chance of tracking down other members of the family, if indeed such relatives even existed. She had expected Brenda to be frustrated by this – surely she would want to eject the cuckoo in her nest as soon as possible? – but instead she was oddly pleased.

  ‘Not to worry, love. I’m sure we’ll find out where you come from eventually.’

  Lolly thought about all this as she took the lift up to the twelfth floor of Haslow House. She wondered what had brought that smug smile to Brenda’s lips. There was something unnerving about it. Maybe she would ask Jude. He was older and smarter. Perhaps he could explain it to her.

  Now she was living with the Cecils she didn’t see Jude as often as she’d like. Brenda kept her on a tight leash, always wanting to know where she was or where she was going. The days of roaming free had gone. And Lolly didn’t like to break the rules too often; the threat of Mrs Raynes was always hanging over her. Brenda used this form of blackmail to keep her in line.

  ‘I need you on your best behaviour, Lolly. No trouble, right? You do as you’re told or that old bat will have you in care before you can blink, never mind put your bleedin’ shoes on.’

  Lolly’s one escape route was through her imaginary friend, Sandra, but she couldn’t afford to overuse it. Already Brenda was asking why Sandra never came round; she was getting suspicious and that wasn’t good. Soon Lolly would have to find another excuse, or another ‘friend’, if she was to continue spending time with Jude. She knew Brenda wouldn’t approve of her seeing a boy who was three years older, even if it was completely innocent.

  Lolly smiled as she made her way along the corridor. The only time she was truly happy these days was when she was sitting on the green corduroy sofa in the dark, the images flickering on the screen and Jude close enough to touch. He made her feel safe, secure, as if no one could hurt her. Just for a while she could forget about everything else.

  As she knocked on the door Lolly wondered which film they’d be watching this afternoon. She waited, swinging her school bag from her arm. Normally Jude was prompt in answering, but not today. Could he be out? Maybe he’d gone up West to see his dad. Her smile faded as disappointment crept over her. She knocked again.

  ‘Jude? Jude, it’s me, Lolly. Are you there?’

  This time she heard a faint sound from inside, but he still didn’t come to the door. Lolly was puzzled. If for some reason his dad was home, Jude would just come and tell her. Could he be sick? Have had a fall? All kinds of terrible scenarios flashed through her mind. The worst could happen – she knew that for certain. What if…?

  Panic was starting to overtake her. Lolly rapped much harder and put her ear to the door. ‘Jude? Are you okay?’

  This time what she heard was instantly recognisable, the sound of whispering followed by a girl’s stifled laughter. Lolly jumped back as the truth hit her like a blow. Her stomach lurched. She understood now. She’d got the message loud and clear. Jude had company and she wasn’t welcome.

  Quickly she walked back to the lift, her cheeks burning red. She felt embarrassed and humiliated. Why couldn’t he have told her he was busy instead of pretending to be out? She wouldn’t have minded – well, she would, but she’d have dealt with it. But this, this was like being kicked when she was down. They’d been laughing at her. She’d heard them. It was mean and cruel, and she’d never have thought it of Jude Rule.

  Lolly didn’t go straight back to the Cecils’. She wandered aimlessly round the estate for a while, trying to keep her emotions in check. She walked through the long gloomy passageways, oblivious to the guys who lurked there, young men with pockets full of ludes and speed and marijuana. She rode up and down in the lifts. She went back to the old flat and stood outside the door but couldn’t bring herself to put the key in the lock.