Naive Retribution

by Dawson, H A

  ‘Joe . . . please tell me what I’ve done.’

  He studied her for a moment and sorrow crept into his eyes. ‘You’ve changed.’

  ‘How?’

  ‘I . . .’ he shook his head. ‘I can’t explain it.’

  ‘Try.’

  He shook his head and rested his hand on her thigh. ‘We can still be friends.’

  It was a humiliating turn of phrase and her hackles raised. She flung aside his hand fumbled for the door handle, and left, ignoring his attempts to restore the harmony. Back at her own car, and unable to resist any longer, she glanced over her shoulder. He was driving away and paying her no attention. Biting her lip, she forced back the tremors.

  Jade parked the car at the edge of the town centre and walked. She had always liked been in the open air during trying times. Today was one of those days; it was preferable to returning to an empty home, where memories of Joe would be everywhere.

  Swinging her bag over her shoulder, she traipsed along the pavement, heading through the familiar streets, passing workers and shoppers returning home from their daily activities. Needing a drink to settle her nerves, she stopped at an express supermarket, grabbed a pack of lager, and bottles of vodka and tequila, and paid for the goods. She trundled along.

  The bag was weighty and her arm strained. Needing a release, as well as yearning for the soothing taste of alcohol, she headed to a bench across the precinct. The relief was instant. She kicked off her heels, opened the vodka, and stared at the paving stones near her feet.

  Joe’s sudden announcement had been bewildering. Everything had appeared to be going so well and it was utterly unexpected. What had triggered his sudden need to run off? She pondered the conversation, trying to remember each line spoken and each gesture and expression, but she was choking on the fuzz in her head. He had seemed as eager as her on the previous occasions, and without doubt their initial kiss had been as passionate as always. She had not imagined it, and could remember, with clarity, the urgency of his breaths, the warmth of his tongue, and the power of his pulsating body.

  Having taken another swig from the bottle, Jade plucked her phone from her bag, hoping for a message or an apology, something to inform her there had been a mistake. But there was nothing there. Joe had used her for his own needs and cast her aside like trash. She was an idiot. Was her yearning so obvious? Had she appeared vulnerable, desperate or needy? Irritated by her own stupidity, she put her phone on silent and flung it into her bag. Tonight, she wanted to be alone.

  The meandering folks were less, and solitude was fast becoming her only friend. It was exactly how she wanted it. No one could be trusted and everyone had an agenda. Joe wanted the sex, William was out to prove his masculinity, and Kath wanted to apportion the blame for their mother’s suicide onto her.

  Jade was better off alone. No matter what she did, she always came off worst if others were involved. Even her mother had flung back her efforts in her face. All those years she had spent caring for her, being there for her every whim, and to what end? Her mother had turned to suicide. Nancy had never thanked Jade for casting aside her teenage years in favour of her; instead, she told her, in the harshest possible manner, that she had done wrong in trying to help.

  Tears welled and her chest heaved. Often, William had told her that her mother’s death had not been her fault, and added that more than likely had she not assisted, it would have occurred much sooner. They had been empty words, yet she still clung to them in hope, reiterating them daily like a mantra. Nonetheless, they refused to lock inside her head. Maybe if she could remember the final conversations she and her mother had shared, the burden of grief would lift, and maybe then, Kath’s accusation would not cut so deep.

  Jade’s muscles tightened and her adrenalin welled. She clung to the bottle and gritted her teeth, as heat rose through her body, reddening her skin. She had been a kid, and had only wanted to help. It had not been her fault. It was not deliberate. It was not.

  She hurled the bottle of vodka across the precinct. It smashed into tiny fragments, a satisfying sound, and the liquid spilled soaking into the gaps and cracks. Huddling her arms closer to her body, tears dripped down her cheeks.

  Her father had said his decision to start the fire was due to depression occurring after the suicide. He had told her in his dying breath, and there had been no doubt, no hesitation, in his voice. Didn’t that mean, in effect, she had killed them all? No wonder Kath had been angry. Was she still searching for an apology? Was that why she was following her, to impart just a fraction of the pain she had endured?

  She lifted a can from her bag and peeled away the ring top, and a sudden and intrusive memory jumped into her head. After the fire and during the last conversation with her dying father, he had said, ‘you got out’. It was an accusation, not a comment, and there had been irritation in his voice. He had wanted her to die; he had blamed her for Nancy’s death and he had sought revenge. She raised her fist to her mouth and jammed a finger in her jaw. His words repeated, his eyes filling with venom.

  Footsteps sounded at her rear. ‘Jade?’

  She spun around. It was Hazza.

  ‘What’s going on?’ he said.

  She shook her head, her explanation trapped, and pointed to the cans on the floor. Hazza willingly obliged, taking one and joining her on the bench. They did not speak, yet she was comforted by his presence. It was like old times, out in the chilling night air, with no responsibilities and with someone who understood.

  Joe had once been that someone. She bit her lip and forced back her quivers.

  ‘They’re not like us,’ she said.

  He tilted his head, urging her to elaborate.

  ‘They’re all in it for themselves. I know you shouldn’t do a good deed just so as you get one back, but a thank you would be nice occasionally.’

  He swigged back the lager and glimpsed out of his eye corner.

  ‘I don’t know why I never learn. You’d think I would. I should lower my expectations and expect nothing in return.’

  ‘Best way.’

  ‘Is that why you’re back on the streets?’ she asked.

  ‘I like the freedom. Being tied down doesn’t suit me. I don’t belong in this world. I don’t like structure. I should have been a nomad trailing Mongolia or some such place.’

  ‘I know what you mean. Yet there’s something comforting about returning to a warm house and people who love and care for you.’

  ‘Until you find out what they’re really like.’

  ‘Exactly.’ She swallowed the remnants of lager and tossed it into a nearby litterbin. ‘We’re better off out here. I’ve always felt safe on the streets.’

  ‘You’re not going home then.’

  Jade smiled. ‘No, I don’t think so. Not tonight.’

  ‘Then how about we find a better spot?’

  ‘You’re on.’

  She grabbed the carrier bag of alcohol and her handbag, and followed Hazza’s lead, weaving around the back streets. He asked no questions, and she had no plans to tell him anything. She simply wanted to be at peace, and be around genuine people whom she could trust. She also wanted to seek comfort in the night sky, and old familiar friend.

  They arrived at a spot behind three industrial wheeled bins. Hidden underneath were a pile of cardboard boxes and a tatty, old blanket. Jade’s heart warmed. Despite the bad times she had endured on the streets, there were many good times too, and like Hazza, she had had her favoured spots. This location was a good choice. She could not imagine too many people passing this way, and to her gratitude, it held no memories.

  She sank to the floor willingly sharing in his flattened boxes, and placed her possessions to one side. Hazza didn’t talk very much, which was preferable, and it allowed her to seek the tranquillity she had wanted to attain. However, her thoughts drifted to Joe and despite her efforts, he remained a persistent image inside her head. The time of spent on the streets was hers and Joes, and their memories were too many
to ignore. Under the stars, they had shared cuddles and kisses; she had cried in his arms having endured a vivid nightmare relating to the fire; they had laughed at their childish pranks.

  She wanted to forget, and opened the tequila. Her head was swimming and her eyes losing focus. She leaned against the wall and the chill of the brick penetrated her bones. It seemed a long time since her last night out on the streets, and it was far less comfortable than she remembered. How she had coped with it for as long as she had was more than a little puzzling.

  ‘Joe told me I’ve changed.’

  Hazza looked to her with an expression that told her he agreed.

  ‘I haven’t.’

  ‘Not just a little?’

  Jade frowned and looked to her lap.

  ‘We all change. I doubt I’m the same as I was twenty years ago.’

  She placed the bottle at her lips. Surely, if she had changed at all it was an improvement. Shouldn’t that have made Joe warm to her even more? Yet it had been quite the contrary. Whatever had dawned had caused him to flee faster than rabbit from a fox, and she would be damned if she know what it was.

  ‘Just look at how you dress.’ Hazza said. ‘You’d never have worn anything fancy back then.’

  ‘I had no money! But anyway, they’re just clothes. That’s not what’s inside . . . not what matters.’

  Hazza passed her a disagreeable look and cracked open another can. It was the last, and fearing they would soon run dry, as well as wanting to escape a difficult conversation, Jade announced she was going to get more drink. She returned fifteen minutes later with supplies, and offered Hazza a sandwich.

  He selected the ham and cheese. ‘Why do you care so much if Joe says you’ve changed?’

  ‘I don’t.’

  ‘You do. It bothered you the other week when I said the same. I don’t remember the old Jade being so sensitive.’

  ‘I’m not sensitive.’

  ‘Really?’

  ‘Okay, so I care about people.’ Her agony swelled in her stomach. ‘That’s my mistake.’

  He caught her eye. There was a shimmer of excitement in his face as if he was pleased to be proving his point.

  ‘What do you know anyway,’ she continued. ‘I don’t even remember you.’

  ‘No, but I remember you. You were always too wrapped up in Joe to take notice. Either that or pissed.’

  ‘Yeah, well. That bit’s true.’

  ‘I think you’ve mellowed a bit. There was a time when you didn’t give a shit as to who you upset, and they were many. I must say it’s a surprise hearing you’ve a heart.’

  ‘I wasn’t that bad.’

  ‘You think? You used to say some pretty horrid things about Joe.’

  Jade swallowed a bitter taste, not wanting to remember, yet was still unable to blank to the look of shame, horror and despair on his face on the day she broke his trust.

  ‘I wouldn’t have been at all surprised if he’d have sought revenge.’

  She gulped and ripped open a bag of crisps.

  ‘Do you think he took everything you said in his stride?’ he asked.

  ‘Of course he did!’

  He passed her a not so convincing look, and her heart raced.

  ‘He was okay with me. I was never deliberately cruel. He knew that. If I was a little insensitive, it’s because of what I’d been through. I’d spent all my life helping my mother and she threw it back in my face.’

  ‘Did Joe know that?’

  ‘Bits of it. I didn’t like talking about it. I was pretty messed up.’

  He nodded and the silence filled the air. She didn’t want to remember herself in a bad light, and certainly not as far as Joe was concerned. He had been good to her and certainly not deserving of her cruel jibes.

  ‘Maybe Joe’s feeling guilty,’ Hazza said.

  She shot him a worried glance, but before she had a chance to question him, a movement beyond the bins caught her eye. She strained to see if someone was there, but despite spending moments trying, she couldn’t gain clarity of vision. Her head was spinning with the alcohol, and her eyelids were sagging.

  ‘It must be a shock having you turn up as you did,’ Hazza said. ‘I take it it’s not gone well.’

  ‘You could say that.’

  ‘My guess is that he wants you out of the picture.’

  ‘Why do you say that?’

  ‘You’re not the hard woman he thought you were, and that he doesn’t want to hurt you.’

  ‘Why would he be hurting me?’

  He looked to her, hesitant.

  ‘Well?’

  Hazza turned away. ‘He has a wife to consider. It couldn’t possibly work.’

  ‘You seem to know a lot about Joe,’ she said.

  ‘I spend a lot of time watching people. When I’m out on the streets, I become invisible. You’d be surprised what I see and hear . . . and what people tell me. I’m privy to all sorts of things.’

  ‘So what else do you know about him?’

  He shrugged his shoulders, passed her a fleeting glimpse, and stared into the darkness.

  Jade wanted to pursue the matter, but her energy was running low and the alcohol winning. She shuffled to a horizontal position and gazed at the stars, her concentration lacking.

  ‘Come share this blanket,’ he said, ‘it’s getting cold.’

  He lifted it up and she snuggled into him. He was more used to being outside than her, and he was far warmer. It was a pleasurable sensation, despite the whiff that seeped through his clothes, and her eyelids drooped. After drifting for a few moments, she craned her neck, looking towards him. He was staring at the side of the bins. She wanted to ask what it was he was looking at, but she was far too tired. She slipped away.

  Jade was amidst a commotion. There was hurried movement around her, footsteps and hushed voices. She told herself to awaken. She could not open her eyes; they were tight shut, glued together. She jerked her arms and legs, trying to force herself to move. Something was upon her, weighing her down. Was it Joe? William? Her mother? The face looked familiar, but she couldn’t quite tell. It faded in and out of view.

  There was moist breath on her face. Her nose tickled. She wanted to scratch it, but could not move her arms. She tried again to open her eyes. Nothing happened. She tried to move her legs. They were leaden with fatigue.

  ‘I don’t want to hurt you,’ a voice said, ‘but I will if I have to.’

  Jade mumbled and groaned.

  A hand stroked her arm. It was warm, beautifully warm. She wanted it to linger.

  ‘One day you’ll be mine . . . in my life forever, where you belong.’

  Jade smiled. In her dreams, she was with Joe. He told her loved her. She slipped back into a restful sleep.

  Chapter 25

  Luke stopped the car alongside the road and killed the engine. It was fifteen minutes before the school day ended, and perhaps even longer before Joe vacated the building. Preparing for a wait, keen to see any troubles that may occur, he stretched his legs and unbuckled his seatbelt.

  Imogen was tapping into her phone.

  ‘How would you survive without one?’ he asked.

  ‘I’d probably be much happier.’

  He craned his neck, trying to see what she was typing.

  ‘He sends me a message at least once an hour, and if I don’t reply straight away he gets suspicious.’

  ‘Mark?’

  Imogen nodded and thrust the phone into her bag.

  ‘Doesn’t he trust you?’

  A moment of apprehension was quickly replaced by enthusiasm. ‘Yes, of course he does. He’s just . . . I don’t know . . . perhaps he’s bored or something.’

  Luke raised an eyebrow.

  ‘He’s lovely . . . really. I shouldn’t complain.’

  ‘Tell him you’re busy and mustn’t be disturbed.’

  ‘That wouldn’t work.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘It just doesn’t. Let it drop Luke.’

&n
bsp; He turned away, doing as instructed, but was swiftly magnetised by her silence and obvious anxiety, and peered at her through his eye corner. She was staring out of the side window, and neither doing her nails nor checking her make-up, which was decidedly suspect. In fact, she wasn’t wearing any make-up at all, and her hair had been styled without clips or ribbons. That was very unusual. He turned away and tapped his fingers on the steering wheel. She had said she wanted to look more professional. There was nothing wrong with that.

  ‘Hey, Luke, have you seen that graffiti over there, on the school wall?

  He leaned closer. She still wore perfume, although it was more subtle than normal.

  ‘See that jutting out building,’ she continued, ‘next to the double door on the left. It’s on the side. I’m sure it says something about Joe.’

  ‘I think you’re right.’

  ‘I’ll go have a look.’ She reached for the handle.

  He grabbed her arm. ‘Better not. Some kids are coming out.’

  ‘We could come back later, when it’s shut.’

  Luke nodded.

  ‘I wonder what he’s done to deserve such a nasty campaign,’ she said, ‘people can be so horrible.’

  ‘All the info seems to have come from one source. Maybe one of the kids parent’s was an old friend of Joe’s.’

  ‘It must be a woman, an ex.’

  ‘That’s a bit sexist.’

  ‘Well it’s true. A woman scorned and all that.’

  ‘But the abuse he’s receiving is regarding a gay relationship. That implies a man was jilted.’

  Imogen turned to face him. ‘Are you thinking the father of the pupil was his ex-lover?’

  ‘Could be.’

  ‘Maybe his kid was punished by Joe. They may have been seeking revenge.’

  ‘That’s possible as well.’

  Luke was shuffling in his seat pondering Joe’s situation, when the main school doors opened and pupils charged outside. Some were in a hurry and sped away, walking in both directions, whilst others gathered in groups, dawdling and stopping on the school grounds. Keeping his eyes trained on the movement, whilst trying not to arouse suspicion, he searched for Joe amongst the adults.