Backlash

by Lynda La Plante

  ‘Why was that?’

  ‘Said something about him being unsuitable. Knowing him, he probably got inta a fight.’

  ‘Carry on, tell me more about Henry.’

  ‘After that he took odd jobs, but we were always short of money and we moved from one dump tae another. He’d even started tae think Corinna wasn’t his . . .’

  ‘Sorry, can I ask why he thought Corinna wasn’t his?’

  ‘When she was born she had darkish skin. As she grew, her hair was matt black and tight curls, started wearing it like them Jamaicans do when she got in her teens. He was convinced she wasn’t his. I told him ma grandmother’s hair and skin was like that but he just wouldnae believe me. Said I’d tricked him intae marriage over Corinna and then when I was expecting Megan he thought I just wanted tae keep hold of him by getting pregnant again.’

  She wiped her eyes and blew her nose.

  ‘Just thinking about it makes me upset. It was as if he blamed me for everything that went wrong. All those wasted years, being knocked around, trying to make ends meet. I went out working the streets at night, while he was supposed to be at home looking after the girls, but I’d come home and he’d have been out drinking, leaving them on their own.’

  Anna put out her hand to reach for Eileen’s and she gripped it tightly.

  ‘You did what you had to do, Eileen, and you brought them here to Glasgow away from him. I admire you. It must have taken a lot of guts; it’s always hard for a woman who is abused to have the strength to get out of—’

  ‘Vicious fucking circle, that’s what it was. It’s not got better.’ Eileen started to cry in earnest. ‘Now after all I done, I’ve got a heroin addict on the run from rehab and the other bairn’s got herself pregnant. She’s just sixteen, a boy from off the estate. And I’m nae better; I’ve gone from one bad’un to another. Take a look at this . . .’

  Eileen pulled open her jacket and drew down the top of her sweater. She had a massive dark blue-black bruise in the centre of her chest and red marks around her throat.

  ‘Oh Eileen, I am so sorry. Is that from McAleese?’

  ‘You know he’s got form for violence?’

  Anna nodded, by now wondering if there was any point in continuing to question Eileen. As there had been no contact with Henry Oates for so long she doubted if she could gather anything more than that he’d been a despicable human being from way back. Eileen meanwhile pulled her sweater back up to her neck and then closed her pink jacket.

  ‘You know I said I had no connection to why you have been brought here to the station for questioning, and I don’t. I asked to meet you because I am trying to find out what happened to Rebekka Jordan and if your ex-husband killed her as he claims. I doubt that you can help me, but I want to help you. Eileen, you have to be strong and if you are being abused again and forced into assisting Mr McAleese, you can get protection. If necessary you can be placed in a witness protection programme that will take care of you, move you and your daughters to a safe place.’

  Eileen had her hands clenched together, twisting the tissue round and round. Her voice was hardly audible.

  ‘He’ll kill me.’

  ‘You will never be free of him if you don’t accept help. Remember how you felt when you took control of your life and left London.’

  ‘You’re right. I’ve had enough shit shovelled over me.’

  Eileen lifted her hand, opening and closing her mouth. ‘I’ve just remembered something . . . oh my God . . . yes!’

  Eileen touched the photograph of Rebekka Jordan still left on the table between them. She half rose from the table and then sat down again.

  ‘That last time he called me it caught me by surprise; it was very late at night. Oh Gawd, it’s got to be five years ago, more even, maybe six, but you said something about the wee girl worked at a stables?’

  Anna felt her body tense. She didn’t correct Eileen that Rebekka didn’t work at the stables, but had been taking riding lessons.

  ‘I’ve just remembered what he said to me. We hadnae said two words before we started arguing. I called him a layabout, something like that, and he . . . Oh Gawd almighty . . . let me get this right . . .’

  Anna waited as Eileen licked her buck teeth, running the tip of her tongue round her lips.

  ‘Okay, this is how it went doon. I think he started callin’ me a whore and I said to him that he was nothing but a layabout who never earned a penny, that’s when he mentioned he had a job. I called him a liar again and he got really mad, screaming at me that he was working in a stables shovelling shit. I think he said stables, but that would be the only place, shit from the horses, am I right?’

  She gave Anna a smile. It altered her whole drawn face.

  ‘Have I helped ye?’

  ‘Yes you have. One more thing, Eileen: do you know if he owned a car around this time?’

  ‘Nae, he could never afford tae pay for one. We never had so much as a bicycle between us.’

  ‘When he did these odd jobs did he have access to vehicles?’ Anna asked.

  ‘I dunno. I dunno if he even had a driving licence. Is there any chance I can nip out to the car park for a fag and a coffee?’

  ‘Sure, I’ll ask an officer to get you a coffee.’

  While Eileen was out having a cigarette break Anna took the opportunity to go over what she had recorded on her Dictaphone. She listened intently to the last part of their conversation and in particular where Eileen had mentioned that Oates said he was working in a stables and she wondered if this could be the connection to Rebekka Jordan that she was looking for. She wrote in her notebook to make further enquiries at the stable about employees who had worked there for at least a year before Rebekka went missing.

  Eileen was brought back to the interview room by a uniform officer.

  ‘You okay to carry on? There are just a few more things I need to ask you,’ Anna said.

  ‘I’ve been thinking about what ye said about being free of McAleese. I don’t want tae lie for him any more but I’m scared of what he’ll do tae me.’

  ‘So you lied about him being with you when the armed robbery happened?’

  ‘Aye, but he said he’d shoot me through the heid as well if I didnae give him an alibi.’

  ‘I understand, but you need to tell DCI McBride what happened. It’s his investigation, not mine, and I have to return to London,’ Anna said sympathetically.

  ‘Can ye not stay with me, make McBride give me the protection ye said I could have, because if he doesnae I’m terrified he’ll kill me or hurt ma daughters,’ Eileen said as she clung to Anna’s hand.

  ‘I’ll talk to McBride for you, Eileen, but you should ask for a solicitor to be present. They will provide you with one.’

  Eileen sighed and then blew her nose.

  ‘Ye know, with Henry I put up with a lot more. I did it because at the start I used tae feel sorry for him. He’d had a terrible upbringing, do ye know about it?’

  ‘No, but I am interested and it could help me with the investigation.’

  Eileen explained that Henry’s mother had been a junkie on the game and Social Services had taken him from her when he was about eighteen months old. They found him left in a dump of a place; he’d not been fed and was filthy, then he was put into care. Eventually his mother got him back, not because she loved him but because she wanted the child benefit for drugs. Henry was around five years old, and she and her punters started knocking him about so they took him off her again when he was eight and he went back in a care home.

  ‘He told me he used tae always fight with other kids but it always ended up with the staff giving him a good beating. Anyways, he run off when he was just a teenager and got tae London, started to work for some old bloke that was an ex-boxer and he took it up, he was like a sort of mentor tae him.’

  ‘Where was the boxing club?’

  ‘Bethnal Green, near the York Hall where they have all the fights. The old boy trained him and everythin’ and he star
ted out as an amateur. He was good, ye know, had a lot of potential. This old guy raised money for a club tour to America and wanted tae take Henry, but he needed his birth certificate tae get a passport. He tracked his mother down tae Liverpool and went tae see her. She was still using drugs and on the game . . .’

  Eileen sniffed, wiping her nose with the back of her hand. She told Anna that Henry never had a proper father and when he tracked his mother down he asked her about him and she told him that she never knew who it was and didn’t care either but it had to have been some waster as that was the only blokes she’d ever known, wasters that she went with to get a fix.

  ‘Did he go to the States?’

  ‘Nae. The rest of ’em did, though, and while they were there the old boy snuffed it, had a massive heart attack. It really hurt Henry, he’d become like a dad tae him, even let him live with him, but when he died his missus kicked him out. He carried on boxing, but I think that was because being in the ring made him feel better about himself and the club was the only place he had any friends. That was all just before I met him. So you see, I used tae feel sorry for him cos he’d never really had nobody . . . turns out he was like what his mum said, a waster. I know I wasted years on him.’

  McBride was taken aback when Anna joined him in the incident room and announced that she would be leaving in time to catch an earlier train back to London.

  ‘Did you get anything out of her for your case?’

  ‘Not much, however . . .I think she will give up McAleese, but she is very frightened. She’s been beaten up. I think she will talk if she gets protection. Can you arrange that?’

  ‘It depends . . .’

  ‘He threatened to kill her. Take a look at the bruise on her chest, and she’s got a pregnant teenage daughter, she’s scared for her as well. Eileen Oates is an abused woman, but taking her back over her abusive past with Henry Oates I think made her aware that she was in the same old situation. She’s scared McAleese will kill her. If you offer her witness protection I think she’ll make a statement against him.’

  ‘I’ll get a car arranged to take you to the station.’

  ‘Thank you.’ Anna was slightly taken aback by his abruptness.

  McBride cocked his head to one side and gave a small tight-lipped smile. ‘Thank you.’

  As the train sped her back to London Anna once again sifted through the file on Rebekka Jordan. All the current employees at the stables had been questioned five years ago and all their names and addresses were listed. On top of these were the part-time workers and Saturday morning stable hands and trainees. Henry Oates’s name did not appear, but after her conversation with Eileen, she would now have to talk to the owners to take them back at least a year before Rebekka went missing. She sat back in her seat and closed her eyes. She thought about Eileen Oates. She was a sad creature, like a wounded animal incapable of any self-esteem. She opened her eyes and made a note to check if they could trace any known associates of Oates from his boxing days as he might still have kept up with them.

  Back in Hackney, Barbara and Joan had been busy compiling the statements gathered from people who had last seen Fidelis Julia Flynn. The flatmates had been able to give a clear picture of the evening she left, the last time they had seen her. She had given no indication that she was meeting anyone. Although all Fidelis’s landline and mobile phone calls had been checked at the time she was reported missing Mike had instructed Barbara to go over them again. Her flatmates had brought in their old BT telephone bill, which they had kept because Fidelis had made a number of calls and had not paid for them. These were all highlighted in pink and indicated that she kept in touch with her parents in Dublin on a regular basis. The other numbers were for a hairdressing salon, a local cinema and the garage where she had worked. A number that had been called on several occasions from her mobile had turned out to be to an unregistered pay-as-you-go phone, which to date had not been traced. Mr and Mrs Flynn had sent more photographs of their daughter, taken in Dublin shortly before she came to London. Barolli had looked through the suitcases and a zip-up bag which contained make-up, a sponge bag, clothes, shoes, handbags and a purse that had two twenty-pound notes in and some change. There was no diary, no notebook, and searching the pockets of the handbags he had found nothing but a couple of old crumpled receipts and a used lipstick.

  Anna had fallen asleep on the train and woke with a jolt as her mobile rang. It was Langton, impatient to know if there were any developments from Glasgow, but her phone repeatedly cut out and so he suggested she came over to his flat straight from the station. As she had already told him that Oates might have worked at the stables and that this was basically the only new information, she was loath to see him because she knew he would grill her on every part of her interview with Eileen. She received two text messages from him, the first asking her to pick up some milk, bread and eggs and the second to also buy a bottle of vodka.

  By the time the train arrived back at Euston it was early evening, so Anna bought the groceries from the first shop she saw in the station and caught a taxi to Maida Vale. She stopped in Floral Street not far from Warrington Crescent where Langton lived and from an off-licence bought him his vodka. After keeping her waiting on the doorstep for five minutes, Langton buzzed her in; when she reached the front door of the flat it was ajar. Someone had obviously cleared up as the main room was tidier than when she had been there previously. Placing the groceries and vodka in the kitchen, which was also clear of dirty dishes, she called out, asking if he wanted her to make a coffee or tea.

  ‘Just bring in the vodka and some ice,’ he called back.

  Anna opened the fridge, which she was pleased to see contained some bacon, lettuce, a cooked chicken and what looked like a dish of fried rice. She found where the glasses were kept, filled one with ice and went into the bedroom. He was propped up on pillows with his leg stretched out on a square cushion from the sofa, and he was unshaven, wearing the same old dressing gown with a T-shirt beneath it and pyjama bottoms with one leg cut out for the plaster cast.

  ‘You having one?’

  ‘No. I only had a sandwich on the train so I won’t stay long as I’m tired out. I didn’t sleep on the way there. The sleeper is comfortable but the rhythm of the train kept on changing and—’

  ‘Yeah, yeah,’ he interrupted, unscrewing the top from the bottle of vodka. ‘So take me through it all. What is she like, for starters?’

  Anna drew up a chair and opened her briefcase to take out her notebook as she described Eileen. He listened without interruption, sipping his vodka with the ice clinking in his glass. She explained how the most important information came up, the stable connection, that Oates could have worked there and met Rebekka up to a year before she went missing, but she obviously had not had time to check it out. She added that she wanted to check out the boxing background to see if Henry Oates was still friends with anyone connected to the club, and that she had asked Joan to see if Oates had ever held a driving licence or owned a vehicle.

  ‘If he kidnapped or snatched Rebekka off the street, he must have been driving something,’ Anna pointed out.

  Langton drained his glass and topped it up again before replying. ‘He could have stolen a vehicle . . .’

  ‘Or if he was working odd jobs there’s a possibility he might have had access to a vehicle,’ Anna suggested.

  ‘Shovelling shit,’ he muttered.

  She closed her notebook.

  ‘That’s it then, is it?’ he asked.

  ‘Fraid so. Do you want me to fix you a sandwich or something? I see there are some groceries in the fridge apart from what I brought.’

  ‘Nah, I’ll get something later.’

  ‘I don’t mind.’

  ‘I don’t want a fucking sandwich, all right?’

  ‘Fine. I’m going to take off home, it’s been a long day.’

  He reached out for her hand. ‘Sorry. Thank you, but I’m not hungry. Why don’t you make yourself something to eat?’r />
  ‘No, I’ll get back home, have a shower and—’

  ‘There’s a chicken.’

  ‘No, thanks. I see the flat has been tidied up.’

  ‘Yep, had a visit from Laura’s sister. She was not happy about the mess. Gave me a headache thudding around with the hoover and her duster, repeatedly reminding me how neat and tidy Laura and the kids are.’

  He paused and sighed.

  ‘Christ, my Kitty’s not much younger than Rebekka was when she disappeared. Time goes fast – not for that poor little soul though. Sometimes when I look at Kitty, the way she’s growing up, I think of what it must feel like to be the Jordans; their child will never grow older, will always be exactly as she was the day they last saw her.’

  ‘They keep her bedroom as she left it.’

  ‘Yes, I know.’

  She leaned forward and kissed his cheek.

  ‘I’m going off home now. Are you sure I can’t get you anything to eat?’

  ‘Nope. I’m fine. My wallet’s on the table over there so take whatever I owe you for the groceries and this.’ He picked up the bottle of vodka and topped up his glass yet again.

  ‘On me, and maybe ease off on the vodka if you’re taking painkillers,’ Anna suggested cheerfully.

  ‘Go on, get out, you sound like my wife.’

  Anna was surprised. He had never, as far as she could recall, ever called Laura his wife, which of course she was.

  She put on her coat, eager to leave, and, picking up her briefcase, she couldn’t resist throwing a little dig.

  ‘Well I’m glad she’s looking after you.’

  ‘Get the money I owe you, Travis, or I won’t be able to tap you for doing anything else for me.’

  Anna crossed to the living-room dining table and picked up his wallet. It was well-used, worn leather. Inside on one half were credit cards and on the other side a flap with photographs of his children Kitty and Tommy. She took out a twenty-pound note and was replacing the wallet when she noticed that beneath the table was the doll’s house. When she had last been at the flat it had been open; but now it was shut and she could recognize the exterior.