I watch Adele, taking it all in. Quiet and solemn. Trevor looks around.
‘Any further questions? No? Then it’s over to you, Ria.’
I walk over and take the clicker. It’s like I am walking on air. As if I am hardly in the room. But I keep it together, I have to. I shine the laser pointer on the screen, testing it, then I look at Janice and shine the red dot onto Trevor’s forehead. She looks alarmed.
‘Oh, it’s working.’ I give a little laugh. ‘Right. Can you dim the lights, Jan? Thanks.’
I click my PowerPoint presentation into action and go through the slides, one by boring one. They are facts and figures and just another rehash of the same figures dressed up differently. Unfortunately I am not allowed to show them pictures of the women’s injuries or the footage of Jim beating down the door with a claw hammer.
But I do finish with a slide about two women per week on average being killed by their partners. Trevor sighs and looks at his watch.
Adele speaks. The room is silent.
‘Please could you give us an example, Ria? Of someone you have helped?’
I look at Janice. She mouths ‘Sally’. Adele nods as I speak, taking in Sally’s story, how we successfully invoked an injunction and how she will be rehoused. I have not completely finished speaking when Trevor interrupts.
‘Yes, yes, yes. But all this would be possible with the new plan.’
I hold it in. I hold in all the anger and the sadness and the feeling that SafeMe is slipping through my fingers.
‘But there would be no mentoring. No groups. It would just be accommodation. With no security. There would be no emotional support.’
Adele raises her eyebrows and writes. Trevor sees her and interrupts again.
‘But that could still be provided. With external funders. I understand that a local businessman is prepared to fund those elements of the service. External to council funding.’
Janice clenches her whole body. I see her fists bunch into white knuckles and her knees go tight as if she has just been attacked. All eyes are on me. I can feel myself still smiling, my laser pointer making a red streak on the table. I switch the clicker off.
‘Thank you for your attention. That is the end of my presentation. I think you have almost everything you need to make your decision. Except for one thing.’
I go over to the laptop and unplug the media plug. The huge wall-sized screen goes dark and the room is suddenly lit only by the light from the window, making it feel cold and empty. I swirl my finger on the touch pad, selecting the SafeMe Network and finding my user area. I select the correct file and plug the screen back in.
Frank’s face fills the wall, mid-word. I glance at Janice who is staring at me, shocked to the core. I look at Trevor, who is struggling to make sense of the picture in front of him, until he hears Frank’s voice boom out over the speakers.
The whole conversation about Trevor and the decision and the funding and what he will do plays to a room of wide eyes and open mouths. The footage stops, but I wind it back to the part where Frank is assuring us that Trevor will make the right decision, the part where he is messing with his cufflinks. I focus the screen in on the cufflinks. Then I turn the clicker back on. Trevor is pulling down his sleeves, anticipating my next action. But it is too late. The red dot is on his wrist, the tiny diamond twinkling red and the gold glinting.
I turn off the footage.
‘Any questions? No?’ They stare at me in complete silence. I nod. ‘That concludes my presentation, ladies and gentlemen.’
I walk past them, flicking on the lights so that they blink into the harsh fluorescent glow. I throw the clicker on to the table, leave and slam the door behind me. I rush to my office and Janice is behind me. I watch through the open door as they file out, Adele Baker storming through the double doors and to her car, Marjorie, George and Emma running behind her. Trevor stalks through, shooting me a dirty look and I respond with my middle finger and a mouthed ‘Fuck You’.
Janice sits down in the chair opposite.
‘Fucking hell, Ria. Fucking hell. Tell it like it is, girl.’
I shake my head. There are no words. The truth is out there. Some of it, anyway. The caterers arrive to take away what is left, and Malc opens up the accommodation doors and in no time everything is back to how it should be. Except Janice’s face, which shows a reverence I have never seen before.
She gets up and goes to the safe. She clicks it one way and then another and extracts one of the tacky golden Superwoman stars left over from the awards night. She passes it to me silently.
Tanya
Diary Entry: Thursday
I slept all Wednesday night and most of Thursday. When I woke my face didn’t feel so hot and sore. I looked in the mirror and my eye, which had been almost closed and puffy yesterday, was open again. My headache was gone and somehow I felt positive.
It’s fairly clear now that he isn’t coming back. Somewhere in between sleep and awake, in my delirium, I took this thinking a bit further, pushed it to the limit. He isn’t coming back yet. He will come back eventually, of course, but I will be dead then. It gave me a kind of peace. An understanding.
But when I woke up I felt more determined than ever to get out of here. I wondered if I could use the skillet to hammer something and break the lock on the door. I tried to do it with a spoon which bent on contact. Instead, I swung the skillet at the door. It bounced off, leaving a small dent. I’d heard him say it many, many times.
‘We’ve got composite doors. And roller shutters. No one’s going to rob us.’
I swung again, and the rebound spun me round. I sat on the kitchen floor in the corner. I was very hungry. Very. I looked up at the cupboards. Two tins of tomatoes, two tins of beans and one tin of kidney beans. I rushed over and placed one on the tiled floor. I lifted the skillet above my head and brought it down on the can of beans. It buckled and popped, the contents spraying across the tiles. I stared at the mess. But beggars can’t be choosers. I scuttled around picking up every individual bean and dipping up the tomato sauce with my fingers.
When I had finished, I ran the shower and filled up the washing-up bowl with warm water. I got out the squeegee mop and cleaned the floor. If I was going to eat off it I need to keep it spotless. For what, though? I’m just prolonging the agony.
Chapter Twenty-five
Day 5
I rushed over to Vi’s after the meeting was finished, phoning on the way and checking everything was OK, that there had been no surprise visitors. The kids ran to hug me and the bitter victory of showing Frank’s video at the meeting began to feel a little bit reckless. What if I lose my job? If I had been a ‘good girl’ and toed the council line at least I would have references. This way, I’m fucked. No one will touch me after this.
But the overwhelming feeling is relief. It’s not often that this kind of underlying behaviour is outed. The lying, bribing, influencing that goes on. It’s usually an internal whistleblower followed by an inquiry that buries the wrongdoing and wrongdoers in detail, them long gone after a three-tier investigation that takes years. But this is different, and we all know it. Especially Adele Baker, who clearly had no idea this was happening. Her face was pure anger and my stomach turns over at the thought of what will happen next.
The good feeling that I have made a difference is overshadowed when, first thing in the morning, I feel Danny’s side of the bed, realise he will be back soon and think about my stalker immediately. He has contaminated my home, and I get up and clean every surface he could have been near, wiping the door handle with bleach spray. I get a text from Danny, which stops me in my tracks and makes me sip my tea as I read it.
Morning, babe. Five days then we can have a lie-in. I’m on my way! There’s a short contract at home, shit money but if I work it, I will get the bonus. Have a good Fri-yay. See you later – can’t wait x I love you x always x
I feel the relief flood through me that Danny is coming home. I just have to figure out
a way to keep my fear inside and hope my stalker doesn’t pull another stunt before then. Jennifer appears and rubs her eyes.
‘Mummy.’
I hug her.
‘Daddy’s coming back. He’ll be back soon.’
She sighs. ‘Can we have a puppy?’
Simon is behind her. ‘No. we can’t have a dog. We can’t leave a dog on its own all day.’
Jennifer’s bottom lip trembles and I feel my stress levels shoot up. She lets out a wail.
‘I want a dog. Janet’s got a dog. They take it on walks. It’s not fair.’
I put their cereal on the table and pour them orange juice.
‘Life isn’t fair, Jen. And Simon’s right. Mummy and Daddy have to work and we can’t leave a dog all day.’
She pouts. ‘Janet’s mummy doesn’t go to work.’
I nod and smile tightly. ‘Good for her.’
Jennifer stares at me. ‘Where’s Grandma’s granddad?’
I go to the kitchen and rest my hands on the sink, staring through the window into the shared garden. I know Jennifer is still tired. We were at Vi’s until late and she was cranky when she went to bed. I know that these inquisitive questions are perfectly normal for a seven-year-old. But I am worn out. My nerves are frayed and now I am on the verge of snapping at my overtired daughter.
I take a deep breath and carry on. I have no choice, but something needs to change, and quickly. Outside the school gates I watch as they walk in, Jennifer hand in hand with Janet. I glance at Janet’s mum, who flashes me a cosmetic-dentistry smile. She is blonde and pretty and she has parked her shiny Audi in the no-parking zone – again – but she is the type of person who will get away with it every time. The rules don’t apply. They live in a detached house on the new estate, the one Danny calls ‘plastic paradise’. Her husband owns a builders’ merchant. Jennifer has been to birthday parties at their home and I have sat outside as she runs in. I’m not jealous, but I sometimes wonder what it would be like.
It is this mood that takes me along the backstreets of terraced houses to SafeMe. These are the streets of my kind of people, the kind of folk who were not born with a silver spoon and who somehow have to overcome problems just to get through. Most of the time I like it. I like the challenge and I know that an ‘easy life’, one like Janet’s mum, directed and paid for by someone else, would not fulfil me. But when I am uneasy, unsettled, it is what I yearn for. Someone to make it right for me. Danny in regular work so I would have a chance to breathe.
Right now I am almost suffocating. I’m watching all the time for the red car and some sign of who is watching me, now etched into my day, and I’m ever vigilant. He is nowhere to be seen and I feel doom. If he isn’t here, is he somewhere else planning something worse? The doom deepens as I see Malc waving at me down the street.
I hurry up to the gates and he points around the corner. My mobile rings and I see the warden’s name. Shit. Sheila. I hadn’t thought about what impact yesterday’s performance would have on her. I divert and rush past the gates and around the corner. Her living-room light is on and the warden isn’t outside. My phone rings again and I see Karen at the window of the warden flat. She rings off but points to Sheila’s flat.
I’m out of breath, my flat glittery pumps pounding the pavement, but when I buzz, she answers normally.
‘Hello?’
I catch my breath.
‘Sheila. It’s me.’
She buzzes me in instead of coming to the door. The flat door is open and cigarette smoke has filled the hallway as well as her living space. I go in. she’s sitting in her usual chair, but half of her furniture is gone: the glass cabinet and all her little dolls; the glass coffee table with the octopus base. I look into the bedroom. All her clothes are shoved into black bags. I stand in front of her. She is clutching a holdall that is slightly open. I can see her jewellery box, the charm bracelet on top, and several sleeves of her favourite brand of cigarettes.
‘Bloody hell, Sheila. I wondered what had happened. The warden—’
She snorts. ‘Yeah well. Thought I’d be gone before you got here.’ She smiles a little. ‘Part-timer, you, lady.’
The kitchen is still intact so I make a brew. Our usual tea in her brown earthenware pot, poured into china teacups and then milk added, with Sheila’s customary two spoons of sugar. I put hers down in front of her. Neither of us speaks for a while and she does not meet my eye. But I can’t leave it like this.
‘Why, Sheila, love?’
She nods. ‘I’m tired. It’s never going to stop.’
I shake my head. ‘Is this about yesterday?’
She looks confused.
‘I don’t know. Why? What happened yesterday?’
I debate whether I should tell her or not, but maybe she needs to know. And maybe I need to say it. I speak gently to her.
‘Well, we had our funding meeting. I found out that Frank had been … influencing one of the council people and I told them.’
She laughs harshly. Her throat rasps and she sips her tea through the bright red confidence lipstick.
‘What’s fucking new?’ She laughs some more. ‘Of course he has. You might as well face it, love: Frank’ll get what he wants.’
I nod. ‘Yes. So I see.’
She puts her cup gently down beside the saucer. Sheila’s not a saucer person.
‘That’s where you’re wrong, lovey. I’ve decided to go back. Me. I’ve decided.’
Her frown is deep and I can see that this is important to her.
‘But why? He hasn’t changed. You know what will happen, Sheila.’ I take her hand, arthritic before its time, deeply tanned with fake tan and yellow and brown speckled with nicotine. I’ve grown fond of these hands. Their warmth. ‘Please. Don’t go.’
She pulls in her lips.
‘I have to. Because you know what will happen if I don’t.’
I shake my head. ‘No. I don’t know. But I know you will be in danger. Please, Sheila. Think about it. We can get you new stuff.’
She pulls her hand away and lights yet another cigarette.
‘He won’t stop till he gets his own way. He’ll start on this place – you and her, if he hasn’t already. I’m back home. And all them girls who come here, what’ll happen to them?’
Her logic is flawed and she clearly doesn’t realise that SafeMe is in danger in any case – or perhaps she thinks Frank is behind it all. I have a sudden insight, a sudden questioning. What if he is?
I don’t have an answer to tell her. I don’t lie and tell her everything will be OK if she leaves. Or that everything will be OK if she doesn’t. Instead, I sit quietly, fighting back tears and swallowing tea. I pour again.
‘What about you, lovey? I’ve watched you, you know, losing weight, dark circles under them pretty eyes. Somat’s up with you. So come on, tell your Aunty Sheila before it’s time for me to go.’
My eyes brim and I pull at my T-shirt, pulling it down over my knees like I used to do as a teenager. Eventually I manage to speak.
‘This guy … he’s, he’s … harassing me. I’m a bit scared of him.’
She pats my knee.
‘You know them photos I showed you? When me and Frank were courting. At the boxing? We were a real item and we were on the same wavelength. I always knew what he was, you know.’
I stare at her. ‘Did you? But …’
‘Yeah. But I could overlook it. We laughed and talked and then all that over Bobby, secrets, not speaking, punishing each other. But the worst thing was keeping it inside. I never once told him the truth. How hurt I was. How upset. For us both. I still haven’t. It’s lingered there between us, and he could have helped me. It’s not always been like this, you know. But I just became another thing to him. Another asset. I’d pull away now and again and he’d push me back into line.’ She sees me wince. ‘I know it’s wrong, yeah, and I know who Frank is. What he does to people. I just never thought he’d do it to me.’
She rubs the plaster c
ast.
‘I’m worried for you, Sheila. What if he …?’
She grabs my hand, hard.
‘Never mind me, love. Save yourself. Tell the truth. Tell your fella. Tell the police. Tell everyone. That bloke, whatever he has on you, face it and start again, while you still have time.’
She is crying now.
‘This place. Solid bloody gold. You and Janice, you’re good women, like I’ve never known before. Standing up to them cruel bastards and talking sense. Take your own advice, for once, love. Or mark my words, you’ll end up like me. Trapped inside here.’
She taps her temple. I wait a while.
‘But what about the other day? His …’
‘Daughter? Yeah. I always knew, really. And look at the bright side. She’ll be there to look after me when I’m old and decrepit. I might get to know her. That’ll piss him off.’
She smiles wickedly, her face crinkling sadly. We both look at the window as the light is blocked by a big white furniture van. Two men appear and Sheila nods slightly. They start to move black bin bags out of the bedroom. She’s still gripping my hand tightly and I see a trace of panic.
‘It’s not too late, Sheila. You can stay with me. I can move Jenni—’
‘What, and bring Frank to your door? Bloody hell. Sounds like you’ve got enough problems as it is, lovey. No. It is too late. It’s the only way.’
The men finish with the bin bags and start to pack up the kitchen, bringing in removal boxes and silently packing things just as they are – a tea caddy full of teabags, the brown teapot, the cups and saucers. Toaster, microwave, leaving only the items Sheila has stuck red dots on, the SafeMe fixtures and fittings. Her eyes follow them, yellow and super-watery now, and she still grips my hand tightly.
We step aside as they take the leopard-skin rug and the animal-print throws. Sheila twists her diamonds and fusses over some crumbs on the floor, fetching a dustpan and brush. Keeping busy. Finally, all her belongings are gone. The only trace of Sheila is Sheila, and I hug her tight. She reaches her lips to my ear.
How to Play Dead Page 23