But in a split second the laughter had stopped.
“But yeah, yeah. He’s alright, our Minister. Done his time in The Forces and - see! Check it out. Bad bitch from Sisterhood United or whatever they’re called is getting a nice bit of protection from the man in charge. So at least he’s got some balls on him. Though he never called me back about me carburettors like his people said he would. Bit out of order, that.”
My legs were trembling. It was impossible to keep them still. I had felt this before; after a rather traumatic birth experience, courtesy of Matthew. So, I knew that it was just the shock of the situation, the body going overdrive into flight or fight. But even so.
Get a grip.
Your kids are okay. This is all that matters.
And they’ve lost their dad already. They don’t need their mother going AWOL.
So, get a great, big, fat bloody grip on it.
I tried to swallow and semi-coughed. But my throat was dry, tickly. I attempted to generate some saliva, but I ended up gulping down air instead. It hurt, but I tried to stifle any more attempts at coughing. Michael’s shirt sleeve was covering most of my eye but I could still see the trail of debris across the hall. An abandoned stuffed toy, a discarded handbag, hot dogs, drink cartons and the rest of the items dumped by a panicking crowd. Outside of Sisters’ Space the police sirens stopped for a second, to allow the man with the megaphone to reiterate his previous words. As the final sentence died away, Michael tried again. A muffled call out to Vinnie.
“Shall we just get the kids out of here first, Vinnie? That’d be easier on everyone.”
“No fuckin' way.” With a flatness to it. “My kids are staying with me from now on.”
There was another pause and then he carried on;
“But, cheers. Least you remembered my name.”
From anyone else that might have been construed as sarcasm. But the tone of his voice told me that it wasn’t. Sounded pathetically grateful. And then I heard Shaun’s gruff tones from several feet away, nearer to the hall windows;
“Look – let me… let me and just him - get up at least? We won’t do anything daft. We just need to get this lady to a hospital.”
Shaun sounded okay at any rate. Unharmed. Michael’s voice directly tagged onto Shaun’s;
“Yes. She really needs some help. The two of us can get her out of the hall so…”
“You’re not fuckin' going anywhere!” Vinnie’s bellowed.
We all stayed silent. Apart from Poppy-Rose. Vinnie again;
“Fucksake, Dawn! She’s doing my fuckin’ ‘ed in!”
I heard Dawn murmuring again. Michael tried;
“Look, Vinnie. You don’t want to be faced with an innocent – a civilian death - on your hands, do you?”
I clocked this one. An unusual turn of phrase to use.
No response from Vinnie. Michael continued;
“If we get her out now, all the better for you.”
A low whistle.
“Funny guy. Do you think they’re gonna let me off with a charge of friendly fire or something? Like… maybe I meant to hit the stupid bitch. Like, who the fuck is she to me? Why should I give a fuck if she dies? Some scumbag politician. No offence to you, like, mate.”
A slow reply from Michael;
“None taken… I think,”
“Cause for me – it’s the local politicians who are the real bastards. In it for themselves. Milkin' their backhanders and all of that. At least you and your poncey lot down in Westminster or wherever - make proper decisions. Like armies and – fightin' dictators and the war against terror all of that…”
Again, he wasn’t being sarcastic.
And this was the longest and most eloquent speech that I had ever heard from Vinnie.
I felt Michael move, his arm slowly removing itself from the back of my head. He was trying to sit up.
“Stay fuckin' put!” Vinnie yelled.
But Michael didn’t do as he was told. Inch by inch he was moving, creeping away from me. He spoke quietly; trying to reassure Vinnie.
“Just sitting up slowly.”
Vinnie shrieked, his voice squeaking;
“What? What the fuck? Get down, I said!”
Michael’s voice was louder now. Purposeful.
“Look. I’m going to sit up slowly and I’m going to keep my hands in the air. We need to get this woman out of the building. Me and the other guy here… we’ll carry her to the front door. There are ambulances out there for her.”
Now that Michael had moved his arm away from me, I took the opportunity to turn my head and to take in the scene. Shaun was lying next to Councillor Casey. She was face down and blood was curling out from underneath her. A crimson puddle pooling around her left-hand side. Legs crooked. One stiletto on. One stiletto off. I thought of Diddle Diddle Dumpling. Of Adam whingeing on and on about that sort of thing. He hated reading nursery rhymes to the kids.
I still couldn’t move my head the other way. I didn’t want to attract Vinnie’s attention. In the short silence, I could hear a strange, snake-like hissing. My brain felt scrambled. It took me several seconds to realise that the sound was coming from the bouncy castle, some ten yards away from me. Hit by a bullet.
Vinnie still hadn’t responded to Michael.
“So, let’s just get the casualty out of here. Otherwise it’s going to look really bad for you. And once we’ve got her out of the hall, we’ll come back and you can tell us what it is we… I – can maybe help you out with?”
I half expected to hear Vinnie’s laugh again. But instead, he spat out an impatient;
“Fuckin’ whatever. Whatever. Just be quick. Watchin’ you both.”
Michael stood up, issued a ‘Come on!’ at Shaun and then scurried over, taking the Councillor’s legs. Shaun followed his movements, rising to his feet and then doing his best to support her head and shoulders as both men lifted her up. Kath Casey was silent. I figured that she must have lost consciousness. And then, like a leaking shopping bag - a sudden gush of blood splattered all over the floor. More sobs came from my left where Dawn and the kids were. West must have seen it.
I inched myself up, propping myself onto one arm. Vinnie was distracted now - watching the progress of Shaun and Michael, so at last I could see the man himself. He was kitted out in combats along with a wife beater vest - the irony of which would no doubt have been lost on him. The guy was all lean-muscle, sinews and dripping sweat, just as he had been during our first meeting on Brindleford; presumably the effect of drugs – as opposed to early onset menopause.
It was November and Vinnie had ventured out in just a vest and without a coat. I wondered where he must have put his combat jacket. I couldn’t imagine that he would have left it on our coat stand in the reception. He didn’t seem the type.
I nearly smiled at myself. Thinking like a mother.
And Vinnie was actually holding two guns – not just the one. I couldn’t have even attempted a guess what sort they were. Even the mention of guns had always left a sour taste in my mouth. But regardless– there he was with his two babies. Man’s murder-machines. One pointing at Michael and Shaun and the other swinging lazily by his side. All casual like.
His feet were bedecked in the same Gangsta-slipper trainer-type things that he had been wearing outside Lancaster House, back in September. I remembered noting then, what a stupid and dangerous choice of footwear the guy had chosen to try and ride a motorcycle with. Thinking like a wife.
He meandered out of my sight, leaving me with a clear view of the hall. Michael and Shaun were halfway towards the exit and Vinnie was still out of my line of vision, slightly behind me and directly at the foot of the stage. So, I jumped as he suddenly yelled;
“Right! Just fuckin' leave her outside of the doors. Then you come back. Don’t make a run for it. No heroes, thanks! Or I shoot this lot. Starting with scumbag journalist, here.”
Erin Mayo began to cry. But then shrieked as Vinnie kicked her.
“Shut the fuck up! Bitch!”
Usually it only took me a few seconds to flounce my way down the hall on one of my more purposeful missions in the workplace. But the slow shuffle of the two men with Councillor Casey up the length of the room was seeming to take forever and a day. A garish trail of blood followed behind them. When Michael and Shaun finally reached the open concertina doors, I saw them move past the reception desk and towards the entrance where Renee the Rottweiler had received a drenching only a week before. They struggled with the main outside door. Michael was trying to keep Casey’s head upright and steady whilst doing his best to push the door open with his backside.
No go.
I spoke up; more of a croak really.
“It’s a door release system. Someone must press the red button on the wall so the mechanism releases itself. They need a free hand but…”
“Oh, for fucksake! Stupid fuckin' arsehole shits!” Vinnie spat. It was the same tone of exasperation that I adopt when Lydia is trying to do her homework and claims that the two times tables are still too difficult for her. Although Vinnie was a bit more free and easy with the profanities, than I tend to be with Lydia. He turned on his heel, heading up the hall to open the door for them.
As soon as I heard his footsteps stalking away from us, I whipped my head over to the left to where Dawn and the kids were lying. I ignored the small Hibbert-Murray family gathering - and instead, fixed my stare on the interview room; the first room off the corridor from the hall. It was part of the wing that led towards the kitchen and to my office. And its door was ajar. Bev had locked most of the internal doors, but not this one it seemed. I glanced back at Vinnie. He was now approaching the end of the hall and was tucking one of the guns into the back of his trousers. As he reached Shaun and Michael, he stuck out his hand to smack the red button.
I could hear the blood, pounding, pumping in my head.
And then all previous paralysis and fear suddenly drained away from me.
I was up.
Half running, half stumbling towards the interview room, growling a “Come on! Come on!” at Dawn. She saw what I was doing and she yelped at the kids;
“Go – friggin' GO!”
And then she was scrambling herself, trying to get up, with Poppy-Rose clenched in her arms. The boys and I raced into the interview room. But Vinnie was pelting back down the hall, roaring as he charged his way towards us. He threw himself at Dawn, knocking her off her feet as I was about to slam the door shut. The baby fell from her grasp and the little girl’s howl yanked me back into the hall. Vinnie was trying to punch Dawn in the face as she lay in a foetal curl, trying to protect herself with her hands clutched over her head.
I grabbed Poppy-Rose and tucked her under my arm like a rugby ball – she was so much lighter than my own chubby-boy Matthew had ever been at that age – and I hurtled back into the interview room before Vinnie had the wit about him to realise what was happening. I kicked the door shut, twisted the deadlock across and parcelled the child into Mason’s arms. Seconds later, Vinnie’s body impacted against it. And then again. And again.
The whole room reverberated with the thud of his torso against the door.
“Bitch! Fuckin' cunt! I’ll fuckin' kill you! Give me my fuckin' kids back!”
CHAPTER 29
West clutched at his older sibling, fingers gripping the nylon of his brother’s Man City shirt. Vinnie was repeatedly slamming his shoulder into the door. The baby screamed. Both boys looked at me - wondering if this new state of affairs was preferable to that of remaining in the hall.
But the door held. So, Vinnie punched it. And then he cursed in pain. I turned my attention away from the door and towards the boys. They were not looking their best. West’s tawny skin was almost translucent, his lips drained of colour. Mason’s usually pallid complexion was flushed, furiously red. Poppy-Rose’s face was a mess of snot and tears. Her tiny pink tracksuit was soaked in blood – Councillor Casey’s I presumed – which she must have landed in when Dawn had dropped her onto the floor, because she seemed to have no obvious injuries of her own. But the kid was hysterical; it was “Mumma, Mumma, Mumma” - over and over.
I scuttled backwards, pulling all three of them into the far left-hand corner. I was banking on the fact that Vinnie wouldn’t be so stupid as to try and fire his gun at the lock or through the door, for fear of hitting the children. But then - on the other hand - concern for the safety of his own kids hadn’t stopped him earlier on when he had decided to embark on a shooting spree in a community centre. Perhaps even he had the sense to realise that the doors in this building were nearly all hard-arsed, stainless steel security doors. Not worth the risk of a bullet bounce-back.
I shuffled on my knees towards the red door with the green EXIT sign and tried the handle. Locked. It wasn’t supposed to be locked from the inside?
Bloody Bev. I had told her to keep the fire exit routes unlocked. But this one was locked. And the internal door she was supposed to have locked had turned out to be unlocked. Bloody, bloody typical of my luck. Still. At least we were out of the hall now. And at least it felt that we were closer to the emergency vehicles outside. The intermittent burps of the sirens and the distant shouting of the police, the soldiers and whoever, were pathetically reassuring.
“What’re we gonna do now, Rebecca?” – a trembled whisper from Mason.
“I’m called 'Rachael' – remember? Well, I… I thought we could maybe leave the building by this door here.” I scurried back to them again and gabbled;
“Normally it’s here as an extra escape route for someone who’s using this room. But it’s been locked today. So, we can’t get out. Still, we’re much safer in here than in the hall. So, you three just stay right here in the corner. Okay?’
I didn’t want to frighten the kids further by adding that this was because Vinnie might try and shoot through the door.
“So yes… Just do whatever I tell you to. The police will be here any minute and will sort things out.”
“But Vinnie ‘ates the pigs…”
West added;
“Yeah. If the pigs arrive, Dad’ll get even more freaked…”
“Look,” I said. “Don’t worry about that, just…”
But I was interrupted by more shouting and screaming coming from the hall. Vinnie and Dawn; the sounds of an unequal match.
I tried to talk over the noise, to prattle on about the police and us all getting out safely and how I had seen an ice-cream van outside in the park earlier, but the attention of all three of the children couldn’t be swayed. Each one of them was staring at the locked door. I wondered how many times they had had to witness this kind of thing - to see the fights and the beatings - never mind just hearing the noises of the brutality going on downstairs, or in the next room. Mason was doing his best to cuddle his little sister closer, but she began again. Inconsolable hysteria - reaching her arms out towards the locked door.
I scanned the place desperately, looking for something to distract them. The interview room was a small space, designed to give women some privacy to talk with caseworkers. There were three armchairs, a table with a box of tissues and, in the corner next to us, there was a storage cupboard containing a second-hand music system and a few toys that used to belong to Lydia and Matthew. I suddenly remembered that recently - after a member of staff had experienced a particularly stressful session in the room, when a screeching toddler had refused to leave his mum and to play in our crèche for half an hour – I had devised a cunning solution to such future problems. Several bags of lollipops had been purchased from one of Medlock’s many cheap-as-chips shops and had been stashed in the cupboard. I had never signed up to the anti-sugar brigade when it came to parental desperation.
More yelling and shrieking. And now we could hear Michael’s voice. Shaun's, too – back in the hall. I skittered across to the cupboard, wrenched it open and dragged a large packet of lollipops back with me. Plus, a couple of toys for Poppy-Rose; a pink Peppa Pig pretend-
phone and a Hot Wheelz car.
I unwrapped the little girl’s lollipop for her and let West and Mason concentrate on opening their own. Mason was looking at me as if I was a bit of a moron – doling out the sweets and trinkets whilst Vinnie was kicking the crap out of their mother only yards away – but he still managed to follow the actions of his siblings and stuffed the day-glow treat into his mouth. West asked me;
“Hey - can I have two of ‘em? I like the blue ones best.”
“You can have as many as you bloody well like. Just stay in the corner there - and do as you’re told.”
And then the effects of the sugar must also have brightened the mood of Mason, although his words were somewhat muffled by the lollipop as he pointed at the Peppa Pig plastic phone and said;
“Oooh, Poppy-Rose – you’ve got a nice pink iPhone 7 there! Is that your old one then, Rebecca? Well cool.”
“It’s Rachael…” I said slowly, ignoring the sarcasm. Mason must have inherited the gene from Dawn. And then I remembered something else. The spy hole. There was a two-way viewer - for employee protection. It was there to let members of staff outside the interview room check that everything was okay inside, because there was always a risk that some women might lose the plot with us - start acting in a threatening manner. I was hoping that Vinnie wouldn’t have the wherewithal to notice it - to look inside at us. And the spyhole also worked the other way round - so that someone on the inside of the room could view outside of the room and into the hall.
I moved over to the door and squatted next to it, motioning for the three children to stay in the corner. The lollipops were performing their magic, and both the sweet stuff and the sucking motion had induced at least some element of calm. Despite his flippant words, however, Mason’s limbs were all of a-jiggle. I could see that he was desperate to do something. Dawn had mentioned to me before that Mason was not a child who liked to feel powerless in any given situation.
Cuckoo in the Chocolate Page 30