‘Can you give me some idea what happened?’ she asked. ‘Why did she run off like that?’
Terri shrugged. ‘She wanted to practise riding her bicycle,’ she said. ‘Round Forester Close the other kids laugh at her because she doesn’t know how. You know what it’s like, they’re all like stunt riders these days. Nicky felt left out.’
Jean smiled at Rachel. ‘That’s Nicky all over,’ she said, ‘she’s such a perfectionist, she couldn’t bear to make a fool of herself in front of the others.’
‘Oh?’ Rachel Moody sounded doubtful. ‘Well, I’ll talk to her in the morning. Perhaps she’ll be able to fill me in.’
‘She’s a child,’ Terri said. ‘She’s confused . . . I don’t think she knows what she did.’
‘No.’
The expression on Rachel’s face seemed to accept this, but both Terri and Jean imagined there was a question mark after Rachel’s ‘No’.
‘We’ll all know more when we’ve had a chance to talk to Nicky in the morning,’ Terri said. ‘Thank you for finding her, Chief Inspector. If the police hadn’t been so quick off the mark she could’ve died.’
‘You’ve a lad from the old village to thank for that,’ Rachel Moody said. ‘He found her when he was checking a fence on his farm. His name’s Mark Pearson. He’s the one who called the paramedics.’
Her mobile phone rang. ‘It’s the station,’ she said. ‘I’ll have to take this.’
She turned her back and moved away from them.
Terri and Jean looked at each other like naughty schoolgirls; they fled.
They drove home in silence. Then, when Terri stopped the car outside the Henson house, Jean said, ‘How are we going to play this with Helen? She mustn’t know about the note.’
Terri hesitated. Then she said, ‘Jean, it’s possible Nicky’s lying to protect Kevin Miller. She may be making it up. I mean, all that stuff about that book. I thought what she was reading was part of her research for her social studies class at school.’
Jean got out of the car. ‘I’ll be over first thing in the morning. You go to Helen now and see how she is. We can’t do anything now.’
Helen had not woken. She slept through until the next morning and came into the kitchen where Jean was sitting with Terri at the table over cups of coffee.
She still looked distraught.
‘Where’s the paracetamol?’ she asked Terri. Jean she ignored. ‘I feel terrible, I’ve got the most awful hangover,’ she said. ‘What happened last night?’ She sounded irritable.
‘You were upset,’ Terri said, taking her hand. ‘Nicky went off for the day and we reported her missing. The police found her.’
‘Where is Nicky?’ Helen asked. ‘Why didn’t she bring my breakfast?’
‘They kept her in hospital last night, just in case.’ Terri poured coffee for Helen. ‘Toast?’ she asked.
Jean made an attempt to explain. ‘She got hungry and ate a few berries to keep herself going, but unfortunately they were poisonous,’ she said. ‘They had to pump out her stomach but she’ll be fine now.’
‘So that’s why I’m angry with her, is it?’ Helen said. ‘I knew she’d done something stupid.’
She frowned as if there was something she was trying to remember. Then she gave up and appealed to Terri. ‘So she put me through hell running off for the day, did she? What am I going to do with that child, she’s such a drama queen? You wait till she gets home, I’ll make her sorry.’
Jean smiled at Terri and Terri shrugged. Neither of them could quite believe what they were hearing. Helen seemed to have no memory of yesterday. It seemed incredible to them that a mother could have blotted Nicky going missing right out of her mind.
‘As soon as you’re dressed, I’ll take you to see her,’ Terri said.
‘I can’t do anything without a decent cup of coffee,’ Helen said. ‘This stuff’s cold. There’s no hurry about Nicky now, she might as well stay there. Serve her right, it’ll teach her not to be so selfish in future.’
THIRTY-ONE
Jess asked Donna, ‘Can you take care of Kylie today?’
‘No, I bloody can’t,’ Donna said. ‘You can’t leave her with me whenever you feel like it.’
Jess tried cajoling. ‘Oh, Mum, please,’ she said. ‘I’ll fix your hair for you tonight.’
‘No,’ Donna shouted. ‘She’s your child, you look after her. If you don’t like it, you should’ve thought of that before.’
‘Why won’t you?’ Jess said. ‘You won’t lift a finger to help me, all you think about is what’s happening to friging Kevin. It’s not my fault he’s in jail.’
‘Meaning you think it’s mine?’ Donna said.
‘Meaning I don’t give a fuck, I’m going out,’ Jess said.
It was as good a time as any, Jess thought.
She had laid her plans very carefully.
Her palms were sweating and she could tell her voice sounded funny because she couldn’t get her breath properly.
It’s now or never, she thought.
She said, so quietly that Donna turned and stared at her in astonishment, ‘I can’t stand this place any more, I’m moving out.’
‘Yeah, yeah.’ Donna didn’t argue, she’d heard it all before.
Jess waited a moment for her mother to react, to beg her to stay. But Donna said nothing.
Jess said, ‘I went to the council and said I had to move and because of me being homeless and having Kylie, they’ve found me a flat. It’s in the Midlands, in a place somewhere near Birmingham. It’s on the seventh floor of a tower block on a big housing estate, that’s what they said.’
Donna didn’t believe her. Jess would say anything, threaten all sorts of things, to get her own way.
‘You and Kylie?’ Donna said. ‘What about Kylie?’
She’s expecting me to say I’ll look after her, Donna thought.
‘What about Kylie?’ Jess said. ‘We’ll be fine. There’s bound to be lots of other kids.’
Jess sounded irritated. She didn’t like it that Donna assumed Kylie would go with Jess. She’s not even going to offer to take on the kid until I’ve got a life going for myself, the selfish cow, Jess told herself.
‘Do you think you’ll be able to get a job in Birmingham?’ Donna said. She was deliberately taking Jess’s plans at face value, pretending she believed what the girl was saying.
‘Job?’ Jess said, ‘Why should I get a job, I’ll be on benefits. I’ll even get new furniture and a washing machine.’
‘Won’t you be scared?’ Donna said. ‘I can’t imagine living in one of those places.’
‘It’s better than this dump, miles from anywhere,’ Jess said. ‘I’d put up with almost anything to get away from bloody Kevin,’ she added.
‘But Kevin’s not here,’ Donna said.
‘Don’t bet on it,’ Jess said. ‘His slimy lawyer will get him off.’
She was thinking, There she goes again, bringing everything round to Kevin. Why doesn’t she listen to me? She thinks I’m kidding. Well, she’ll be sorry . . .
Jess slammed the door as she left the house.
On the bus going into Haverton, she watched a young mother struggling to cope with two young boys.
They ignored her efforts to amuse them. They fought noisily among themselves, refusing to sit still, charging up and down the aisle of the bus.
The other passengers sat with pained expressions, occasionally giving the harassed mother looks of hatred.
One of the boys knocked against Jess. She caught his fat little arm to stop him in his tracks.
Between clenched teeth, she snarled at him, ‘Shut up or I’ll thump you.’
The child skulked back to his mother, snivelling.
The other passengers, instead of being grateful, glared at Jess. But with her purple hair, her tattoos, and the safety pins apparently holding parts of her body together, they didn’t dare confront her. Jess heard the mother mutter to her kid, ‘She can’t hit you, it’s illegal.’
Jess didn’t care. She was sorry for the mother in a way, except she wasn’t worth being sorry for, she didn’t matter. Jess despised her. She knew how it felt, being tied down like that, except she wasn’t going to let it happen to her.
And, briefly, she thought of Donna, and suddenly saw how her mother must see her own life. Of course she didn’t want to look after Kylie, she wasn’t interested in her. She wasn’t interested in me, Jess thought, why should she care about Kylie? I think she’s a pain in the arse, and I’m supposed to be her mother.
Then she asked herself, why’s it always the mother who gets lumbered, not the dad? If I was Kevin I wouldn’t mind having Kylie, I could still do what I wanted.
Jess glared at the young mother as the bus stopped at the coach terminus near the town centre. Her two boys rushed off, shouting.
‘Careful of the traffic,’ the young woman cried.
I’m not going to let that happen to me, Jess told herself, I’m going to have a life.
She followed the instructions the reporter on the Sunday tabloid had given her. He was the paper’s regional correspondent and worked from an office in the same building as the local daily. He’d told her to go there and ask for him at the desk. He would come down to meet her.
Jess had told him she wanted to be paid for her Romeo and Juliet story in cash because she didn’t have a bank account and wasn’t likely to be allowed to open one. The reporter had agreed to that. It suited him. He could make up the money on expenses and it saved having to produce an invoice to justify the payment to Jess.
A blonde middle-aged woman at the reception desk looked at Jess over her glasses.
‘Yes?’ she said. ‘Can I help you?’
The way she said it, Jess knew she meant ‘What’s the likes of you doing here?’
Jess showed her the letter the reporter had sent telling her what to do. ‘I’ve come to see him,’ she said. ‘He has something for me.’
The blonde woman raised her eyebrows and pursed her sticky red mouth.
‘Wait, please,’ she said.
She lifted the receiver in a way that reminded Jess of a brightly coloured parrot taking a peanut. She said something that Jess couldn’t hear, then put the phone down and opened a drawer. She took out a sealed envelope and pushed it across the desk.
‘Here,’ she said. ‘He hasn’t time to see you.’
Jess grinned as she picked up the envelope, opened it and looked inside. ‘Fine by me,’ she told the woman, ‘I’m not here for the pleasure of his company.’
Afterwards Jess walked aimlessly round the centre of Haverton. The money, in its envelope, was hidden in the inside pocket of her jacket – an old black leather vest Kevin had discarded. She didn’t even look at the shop windows.
The money actually felt hot against her breast, radiating warmth that spread through her body making her feel like Popeye with a bellyful of spinach.
She caught the bus back to Catcombe Mead and got off at the bottom of Forester Close. It was already getting dark and the street lamps cast spotlights on to the wet pavement. She moved from one patch of light to another imagining herself a ballet dancer who had conquered gravity. The money in her inside pocket seemed to give her wings.
As she walked up the road towards Number Two, she was singing ‘. . . you are the wind beneath my wings . . .’
She saw Forester Close as she had never seen it before, as a place that would not exist if she no longer lived there. She could be the rocket projected towards the star, Forester Close the useless casing left behind in her meteoric wake. That’s how much this money means, she thought.
As she came into the kitchen, Donna looked up from peeling potatoes to scowl at her.
‘Where’ve you been?’ she demanded. ‘I told you I wouldn’t look after Kylie and you just went ahead. Where do you get off being so bloody selfish?’
Jess laughed. ‘Here,’ she said, ‘I won on a scratch card.’
She tossed a twenty pound note on the table in front of Donna.
Donna picked it up and tossed it back at Jess. ‘Keep your dirty money,’ she said. ‘Spend it on someone to take care of that poor child.’
‘OK,’ Jess said, picking up the note and forcing it into the back pocket of her jeans.
Somewhere in the house Kylie was crying. Donna picked up another potato to peel.
‘Your baby’s crying,’ she said.
‘I’ll go,’ Jess said. ‘I might as well.’
‘She’s the one with blonde hair and blue eyes, in case you’ve forgotten what she looks like,’ Donna said.
Jess laughed.
‘What’s got into you?’ Donna said. ‘Are you on something?’
‘You wouldn’t understand,’ Jess said.
‘You’ll have to feed her, Jess,’ Donna said. ‘I’m doing a night shift on the till at the garage.’
‘OK, OK, I know,’ Jess said.
Kylie continued to cry.
Donna threw down the potato she was peeling. ‘To hell with it,’ she said, ‘I’m not going to cook. Tell Alan to get down the takeaway and get something for supper, I’m off.’
‘OK,’ Jess said.
Donna collected her purse. At the door she turned back. ‘See you in the morning,’ she said. The front door slammed behind her.
‘Goodbye, Mum,’ Jess said.
She told herself, It’s too late to have second thoughts.
Very early the next morning, Jess opened her bedroom door and listened to the rhythmic sound of Alan’s snoring.
How does Mum put up with him? Jess asked herself. I’d rather die than be her.
She crept across the landing to Kylie’s room. The child was awake, lying on her back making soft gurgling noises.
Jess picked her up and carried her downstairs, moving as quietly as she could.
In the kitchen, she called a cab to take her and Kylie to the mainline station about twenty miles away from Catcombe Mead.
‘I’ll be at the bottom of the Close,’ she said. ‘I don’t want to wake the whole street.’
‘Ten minutes,’ the taxi firm controller told her.
Jess didn’t take much luggage, only what was in the washing machine. She stuffed the clothes into one of those canvas bags that people with babies always carry around on their backs.
Then she picked Kylie up and walked out of the house. She did not look back as she hurried down the street towards the main road.
‘You’re going to have a new life now and everything should start off new,’ she said to Kylie.
There was no one about. A dog barked twice, then someone shouted at it to keep quiet. Two cats were squaring up to fight in one of the gardens, but they fled as she passed by.
The taxi was waiting for her. The driver was listening to the car radio.
Jess opened the back door and got in. She put Kylie on the seat beside her.
‘Station, right?’ the driver said. He didn’t want to talk.
He set off without waiting for confirmation.
At the station, she gave the driver a tip because if she hadn’t he might have taken more notice of her. She didn’t want to arouse suspicion. But she didn’t argue about taking the money back when he told her to spend it on the kiddie. Good, she told herself, he didn’t even look at me; he only noticed the baby and all babies look the same.
Then she bought a ticket for the early morning stopping train to Liverpool via Crewe.
The train was crowded. Commuters from outlying areas were on their way to work in the city. Most of them were slumped in their seats half asleep, or reading the morning newspaper.
No one took any notice of Jess with her baby. A young man grudgingly moved his laptop from the seat beside him so that she could sit down.
Best sit next to a man, she told herself, a woman would start talking about the baby.
The train rumbled through suburbs and into a busy station. Jess’s carriage emptied as though someone had shouted ‘Fire’. She watched the passengers move along t
he platform to the exit and the crowd seemed to her a live thing in its own right, all the expressionless faces the scales on some giant lizard.
Jess listened to the list of towns the train would stop at. To her, the names sounded romantic and strange, a new world full of promise.
Then a whistle; the train lurched and moved slowly forward. Jess watched out of the window as the tracks merged and disappeared. The railway sidings slid away behind her as they picked up speed between rows of terrace houses, then new housing estates which reminded her of Catcombe Mead.
And then they were in the country, flashing through villages, speeding past farm buildings and cottages. Jess thought of Mark. He’d be out in the fields by now. She asked herself, is he thinking of me? She could see men just like him at work as the train flashed past, moving across fields of churned mud under a low leaden sky.
Goodbye, Mark, she said to herself.
She picked up the baby and looked down at her sleeping face. Funny how they screw up their eyes when they’re asleep, she thought, as though they’re afraid of the light.
‘It’s all new to us from now on,’ she murmured to Kylie. ‘We’ve escaped, you and me. We live our own lives from now on, you and me.’
Poor Mum, Jess thought, she’ll miss Kylie. She wanted me to leave her there, in that no-hope dump. But how could I? What kind of life would that be for the kid? She’d end up exactly like me, trapped and dragged down like me.
She said to Kylie, ‘You wouldn’t want to end up like me and Kev, would you, kid? Your Gran will just have to make do with visiting your Dad in prison, won’t she?’
In Crewe Jess left the train. She stood on the platform and watched it disappear down the line, taking her old life with it.
Then she boarded a train for London. It was important to cover her tracks. So far, so good. She’d warned Donna of her intention to leave; her absence should be covered by that, for a while at least. But if her plans didn’t work out, and Donna got the police looking for her, they would waste a lot of time searching in the North before they ever thought she might be in London. That’s if the man in the ticket office remembered a young woman with a baby buying a ticket to Liverpool. He would, Jess thought; with the kid and the way she looked, she wasn’t one of the run of the mill commuters he was used to.
A Nice Place to Die Page 19