SHADOWS OF REGRET: If your life was ruined, would you seek redemption or take revenge?

by Ross Greenwood

  He takes off his sunglasses and hat. There’s no flicker of recognition as he analyses me once more. Cruel eyes linger on my tattooed arm and then my chest.

  ‘Nope. Should I?’

  ‘It’s Katie.’

  ‘Don’t know no Katie.’

  His squint betrays him as he covers his eyes and head again. He picks up the spade and digs around the edge of a big stone that the plough must have churned up.

  ‘I’m here for answers.’

  Jordan carries on digging and I wait. After a minute, he rests on the handle.

  ‘It was you, wasn’t it?’

  ‘Me what?’

  ‘I got a call this morning from the care home. Justin died in his sleep last night. They think his heart gave out. The woman on the phone asked if I’d contact the nice lady who came to visit him recently. I obviously had no clues to who that was until now.’ An ugly sneer crosses his face. ‘Looks like you killed him. Have you come to do the same to me?’

  ‘I want to know why you did it.’

  ‘We were drunk. All of us, you included.’

  ‘We were high too, weren’t we?’

  He bites a finger as he considers his response. ‘That was Bill’s idea, not mine. What’s the problem? We had a good time, didn’t we?’

  ‘Are you mad? Don’t you remember?’

  ‘Not really. We’d been drinking for hours. It’s all a blur. I thought it was strange when Bill called around early the next morning. He said to say what happened was consensual. They were his words. I didn’t even know what that meant. Are you saying we raped you?’

  ‘Yes, I am.’

  He pauses again. ‘That was a long time ago, why don’t you forget about it? We can’t change anything now. Justin’s dead. It’d be your word against Bill’s and mine.’

  I flinch at his lack of interest. If he notices, he doesn’t comment.

  ‘What about my baby?’

  ‘What about it?’

  ‘You must have known I had a baby.’

  ‘We assumed you’d been whoring around, so it could have been anyone’s. I know you murdered Ted, too. He always was a dick.’

  ‘One of you was the father.’

  He lets out a chuckle. ‘Well, it wasn’t Justin. He failed to rise to the occasion. Don’t think he wanted to anyway. Bill kept shaking him against you while Simon held your arms over the tyre. Was pretty funny.’

  ‘I thought you couldn’t remember anything?’

  ‘Look. Why don’t you piss off? I don’t care what happened back then.’

  ‘It was your baby, Jordan.’

  ‘Yeah. Nice one. Had to be mine, didn’t it?’

  ‘Her hair was blonde, she looked like you. That little crimp at the top of your ear, she had that too. The others were dark skinned. It can only have been yours or Justin’s. I hadn’t slept with anyone else.’

  He rams the spade into the earth with venom but doesn’t comment.

  ‘You became a father. How does that make you feel?’

  ‘It’s too late for me to give a shit. Why didn’t you tell us back then? I can’t do anything now. She must be nearly eighteen. You here for maintenance, that it? No problem. Look, I’m so rich that I dig stones out of fields by hand.’

  ‘I wanted somebody to care. Nobody was interested. It was only on the day I gave her up that she had grown into her features and I saw who she resembled. Chloe was a beautiful baby.’

  ‘Yeah, well I never knew her. If you’ve had your say, be on your way. I’m busy.’

  ‘What kind of person are you?’

  His nostrils flare and his lips purse. He steps towards me. ‘You’re the murderer. It’d be in your interest to get off my land. People go missing out here.’

  Unbelievable. He dismisses me so easily. I watch as he checks around the rock and tries to lever it out. There’s no rage this time, not even anger. Later, I won’t be able to blame my actions on emotion. I know what I’m about to do.

  My fists clench with purpose. No one talks to me like that anymore. I am done with being ignored. I open my bag and pull out my gloves. I put them on and, when his back is turned, stride to the tractor and haul myself up into the cab. The key’s in the ignition. I dip the clutch and turn it on. Jordan turns around with a puzzled face. It’s not until I rev the engine that he knows to be afraid.

  I punch it into gear and move forward. The transmission roars due to my lack of familiarity, but who cares as long as it doesn’t stall. This old tractor is little different from the type we rode as kids. It has a windscreen, that’s all, and through it, I see Jordan scramble away. He makes ten metres and stops. If anyone knows you can’t outrun a tractor on a muddy field, it’s him.

  Jordan stands and faces me. He holds out his arms as if to say, ‘Come on, is that the best you can do?’ I’m close now and we stare into each other’s eyes. There’s a new expression on his face. It might even be regret.

  He makes a small cry. I imagine a vision of the back of the tractor, dripping with blood. Ripped clothing and a work boot with a foot still inside but no attached leg hang from the blades, and Jordan’s mangled body is left pressed into the mud. I lift my foot from the pedal and steer away from him. Soon enough to avoid Jordan, but not the obstacle he was trying to clear.

  He was right about the stone, which causes a huge clanging sound when it hits the metal of the equipment as I drive over it; a loud bang follows. The engine judders beneath me and cuts out, bringing the vehicle to a stop. I jump from the cab and turn to the rear. The smell of burning oil and diesel fills the air.

  I’ve felt like this before. That time, I walked into a kitchen and fetched a knife. I step lightly towards Jordan and he sinks to his knees. Radic’s advice sits fresh in my mind. Revenge would have been a great pleasure, but it wouldn’t have changed the past. My future would also have been darker because I’d have been as bad as them.

  His words are barely audible. ‘Thank you.’

  ‘We all deserve a second chance, Jordan. You have a wife waiting for you and a life still to be lived. Look after her and yourself, and seize this opportunity.’

  I doubt he’ll tell anyone and I hope he changes. As I cycle away, I think of his partner. Will she be happy now or sad? Have I lightened her burden or added to it? We women are a strange bunch. We carry too much, even if it breaks us. His wife was a smart lady though, and she was spot on. Farms are dangerous places.

  63

  Four Days Later

  Irina’s End

  I’ve come to the club at lunchtime because I can’t find Irina. She’s been away all week but told me she’d be back this morning. We’re off to Ferry Meadows to use the pedalos. Or we are if I can locate her. Maybe she’s hiding. She reckons it’s impossible to look glam on a plastic boat.

  I walk through the pub which is deserted despite opening in a few minutes. I jog up the stairs on weak legs. Oksana opens the door as I push it, and I fall into her. Her red bloodshot eyes widen at the sight of me.

  ‘Hi, Oksana. Are you okay?’

  ‘No. Have you heard about Irina?’

  ‘What happened?’

  ‘She’s been arrested.’

  It’s a real kick to the stomach. My mind searches for explanations. I pray for it to be a mistake. ‘Why? What for?’

  ‘They picked her up at Birmingham airport. She was coming back from Spain. Poor Irina.’

  ‘Why? I don’t get it. What’s she done?’

  Oksana looks worried as well as upset. She tries to brush past. I grab an arm and spin her around. I’ve had enough of being lied to. ‘Tell me. Now.’

  ‘We haven’t got all the details. The person she was with made it through but saw her being taken away. They surrounded her. They knew.’

  My stomach heaves as I catch up with events.

  ‘Drugs! She’s been caught bringing drugs into the country?’

  ‘Shh, Katie. You didn’t hear that from me. Look, we understood the risks involved.’

  And then it beco
mes clear. In many ways, my life’s been sheltered. However, in others, I have been at the coal face of the hardest mine on earth. I’ve known murderers and rapists, con artists and swindlers, thieves and burglars, fools and liars, the innocent and the guilty. I have met them all, and there are mules.

  Mules are those who carry drugs across borders for organised crime. They are usually vulnerable and poor. Many are drug addicts. They take the risk while the owner of the merchandise makes a massive profit if the products get through. If the authorities catch the mule, they go to prison. Penalties are harsh.

  I squeeze Oksana’s arm harder. She’s scared. ‘Why would Irina do that?’

  No answer, no eye contact. Pain won’t break her loyalty. Not to him.

  ‘Do you do it too?’

  ‘Yes.’ It’s a sad resigned whisper.

  ‘Where is he?’ She tries to pull away, but I yank her back. ‘His office?’

  She nods and then slips from my grip. At the exit, Oksana pauses as though she has something to say. She shakes her head and hammers down the steps. The door bangs at the bottom. Why won’t these women talk?

  Radic’s office is open. Sitting on the other side of the desk, he massages his temples. He gestures for me to sit in the seat opposite. Mind games or politeness? Who cares? I’ve obeyed him for the last time.

  ‘I’ll stand, thank you.’

  ‘Fair enough. How can I help you?’

  ‘Very funny. You know why I’m here.’

  ‘Ah, yes. Irina. Terrible for everyone.’

  ‘I think you’ll find it’s mostly terrible for her. How could you use her in that way?’

  A sheen of sweat on his bald head shines under the light.

  ‘It was her choice. I explained the job, and she chose to accept.’

  ‘You shit. You’ve been using thieves and junkies. They stopped making good choices long ago. You used them purely for money, and they risked everything while you swan around here pretending to be nice.’

  He rises and leans on the table. His voice is hard. I’ve never seen him like this. He rules by fear.

  ‘They knew the dangers. Besides, the amount wasn’t much. She’ll receive four years at most, out in two.’

  ‘Only two years? That’s virtually nothing. You can send her some crayons and a colouring pack so she doesn’t kill herself. You aren’t so bright either. Irina has three years left on her licence. Drug smuggling, unsurprisingly, is a breach. She will likely get four years added to her three years. She’ll never survive that. You’ve killed her.’

  Radic swells with anger at being spoken to in this way. I suspect it’s been a long while since someone back-chatted him. Have I overstepped the mark? But he needs to be aware of the consequences of his actions. Radic slumps back in his seat. There is genuine remorse and feeling there. That still doesn’t absolve him of his guilt, and I’m not finished.

  ‘And what about me?’

  ‘What about you?’

  ‘You gave me an easy job for good money. A nice place to live for free. I even have my own driver.’

  ‘I never asked you to do anything.’

  ‘Not yet.’ I scream at him. ‘You were grooming me.’

  My bellowing has caught someone’s attention. Footsteps echo on the dance-floor. It’s my shadow who says nothing. Instead, he waits at the door and looks at Radic. I turn my fury on Tony.

  ‘You knew too, didn’t you? Of course you did. You were protecting his investment. And after our chats, did you come back here and report it to your boss like a good little soldier?’

  Tony shrugs.

  The sheen of sweat on Radic’s head is now a trickle of water. He’s not scared, only guilty. At least he doesn’t deny it.

  ‘You want me to say sorry?’

  ‘It’s too late for that. If you are, don’t do it again. I’m out of here. I’ll be out of your flat by Sunday night. Get your henchman here to drop my new ID and my pay there before then.’

  I turn and walk away. Tony stands in the way of the door. We both look back at Radic.

  ‘I always liked you, Katie. No hard feelings. How can I make it up to you?’

  I want nothing off him, and then I realise I do.

  ‘Pack up and box Irina’s possessions. Deliver money and clothes into the prison. Visit her. If you can’t do it yourself, send someone else. Tell her she has a job and a place to live when she gets out. Whenever that is. Let her know all of her things wait for her. And that, next time, you’ll keep her safe.’

  Radic’s smile fades. I hope it’s a dawning realisation of what he’s become. Being forced to look in the mirror and see the harsh truth of what you really are, can make you or bury you. There is good in him, but he needs to change. I wonder if, like many of us, he is too far down the road to turn back.

  ‘You got it. I’ll do my best.’

  ‘One last question. Does your wife realise you do this?’

  He laughs. It’s unconvincing. ‘We all have private business. Don’t we, Katie?’

  I nod back at him. Touché. We are similar in a way. That statement means we are tied in life. I trust him with my secrets and he will let me leave with his.

  ‘Goodbye, young lady. Perhaps we’ll meet again.’

  ‘I don’t plan to go far. Our paths may cross again.’

  At the door, Tony opens it for me.

  ‘Not going to wish me luck, Tony?’

  ‘You do not need it. You’re a strong woman. I admire you very much.’

  He’s sad, and so am I. Tony’s lined face and weathered skin have been a source of comfort. I realise I’ll miss them both. Regardless, the play is ending and I’m almost ready for the last scene. I shake his hand and ask for a final favour.

  ‘Tony, when you drop my new ID off, leave that knife at the same time.’

  64

  Packing

  I own more things now than ever, but it’s still not much. I bought a big rucksack this morning and a smaller one that you can place on the front. Visiting backpackers wear them as they walk around Cathedral Square. I glance over at my new passport. The knife rests on top. Dare I use either?

  I thought I wanted to find a quiet job and be normal. Live a simple life with no drama. I now believe that won’t be enough. I only have a bra and pants on, and I catch myself in the mirror. My finished back tattoo looks incredible. I accepted my need for them, yet I know I won’t get more. They are not just a disguise because the image is me. Both sides. Are the demon and angel fighting or making love? Who wins, or is it the balance between good and evil? When my wings unfurl and spread, will they be feathery white or leathery black?

  I have two calls to make.

  ‘Hello?’

  ‘Hi, Tommy. It’s Katie.’

  ‘Hey, I’m pleased you called. How are you?’

  ‘Fine. Look, I wondered if I could crash at yours for a few days. It won’t be for long. I’ve money saved, I just need to get my head together in a quiet spot.’

  Tommy replies in an instant. I am so glad there wasn’t a nasty pause. ‘Of course. When do you want to come?’

  ‘Tomorrow okay?’

  ‘No problem. What time?’

  ‘Will you meet me somewhere first at midday? I’ll have my things with me.’

  ‘Very mysterious. I like it. Where?’

  ‘A place where only we know. Do you remember?’

  Again, no break in thinking. ‘I’ll be there, assuming it’s not a housing estate by now.’

  ‘And Tommy. If I don’t come, then don’t worry. I’m fine, but I’ll be gone. Forget about me. Live your life.’

  This time there is a few seconds of silence.

  ‘What do you mean by that?’

  ‘Nothing much, just trust me, please.’

  ‘We’ll catch up tomorrow, Katie.’

  The second call will be shorter. I wonder if he’ll pick up. Shady people in power like him have few fears, and he answers straight away.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Bill, it’s m
e.’

  ‘Ah, Katie. I was wondering where you’d got to.’

  I knew it. There was no chance he would let me be.

  ‘I want to meet. I have most of the truth, but I need the rest. When I know what happened, I’ll understand who I was. That’s the only way I have a future.’

  ‘Where and when?’

  ‘The old barn. Eight o’clock tonight.’

  There’s a long pause. I almost hear his mind whirring down the phone.

  ‘Agreed. But we both come alone.’

  ‘See you later,’ I say with a breeziness I don’t feel.

  Events are in motion, and I have one last thing to do. I need to go into town to buy some rope.

  65

  The Barn

  It’s a dark night. Heavy rain lashes my face and vehicles splash puddles over my leggings. I wish I was wearing more substantial clothes. Luckily, Oksana’s bike has lights, or I’d have to walk. There’s no pleasure in the ride this time. My heart is burdened with a sense of doom. I must hear the truth from Bill even if it’s terrible. The knife in my coat pocket is reassuring. I hope he will come alone, but I can’t believe his intentions are noble.

  I’m soaked through when I arrive at our old house. The lights are off and the drive is empty. The track is muddy and unfit for cycling, so I hop off and walk. At two hundred metres away, I notice the barn is lit up in the gloom. It’s a flickering light which means there’s a fire.

  Sure enough, when I get to the entrance and push the remains of the door open, I’m greeted by a large oil canister blazing unnaturally and the stench of petrol. Of Bill, no sign. My coat is sodden. I am lucky it’s not a cold night, or I’d develop pneumonia. After some hunting in the dark and shadowy edges, I find a rusty picnic chair. I wrap my coat around it and place them close to the heat.

  The flames are calmer. Big pieces of wood in the canister give off a more natural blaze. The accelerant used has burned off. Bill did this. He must have been watching when I arrived. But where is he now? I’ll warm up first and worry about that when necessary. It will be a horrendous cycle home without dry clothes.

  Twenty minutes later, I’ve turned my coat over to toast the other side and my hands are back to their normal temperature. I still don’t have company. I start when my phone rings. I’m expecting Bill’s number to show but Tommy’s name flashes up. I contemplate whether to reject the call. I must answer because it might be important.