Tap Dance Kidnap

by S M Mala

  ‘I like women.’

  ‘So what’s this about?’

  ‘It’s me, who I am,’ he said, reverting back to his low voice. ‘I feel better about myself as Gillian. As Gareth, there are some issues I don’t like.’

  ‘And your family, they’re happy about it?’ Kit asked, directing them towards the pub.

  ‘My sons know but don’t pass judgement. My wife wasn’t accepting of my revelation,’ Captain quietly replied. ‘Guilty secrets and all that.’

  ‘Is that why you split?’

  ‘When the person who you thought would love you, no matter what, doesn’t, it’s time to call it a day.’

  Kit could relate to that.

  He opened the door for Captain.

  ‘Ladies first,’ he said watching Captain smile then walk in.

  No one batted an eye lid.

  They sat at a corner table. Kit got two gin and tonics, sitting opposite Captain.

  ‘She says things, lets it slip,’ started Captain, sipping his drink. ‘Sasha’s got something on her mind. Did you hear what she said when we left? She wished she died.’

  ‘I don’t know what Jeremy Wilton wants us to find out. Why can’t they just ask her?’

  ‘When I got the call on New Year’s Eve, they were really worried she’d been badly hurt. Whoever put those bruises on her might do it again so we need to find out who it is.’

  ‘If she’s screened as much as I’m being told then they’d know who it was, wouldn’t they?’ He took a sharp breath. ‘It’s obviously Cameron.’

  ‘Two weeks,’ Captain replied, leaning forward. ‘They think that’s long enough for us to find out more.’

  ‘Find out what?’

  ‘Kit, is that you?’ he heard the familiar voice say and turned around. To his horror, it was his mother with some of her friends. ‘What are you doing here?’

  ‘Oh mum,’ he said, jumping to his feet. ‘This is my friend Gillian.’

  Yvette stepped closer and he knew his mother so well.

  She was putting on her ‘how wonderful to meet you face’, the one she used every time she set eyes on Kristin.

  ‘Hello, nice to meet you,’ she said, leaning down to kiss Captain. ‘I’m Yvette.’

  ‘Hello, it’s a pleasure,’ replied Captain, putting on his female voice.

  ‘What are you doing here?’ she asked, glancing at Captain and back at Kit. ‘You never come this way.’

  She was grinning like she’d stumbled on something interesting.

  He dreaded to think what

  ‘What are you doing here?’ he asked.

  ‘Got tickets to Richmond Theatre. The pantomime is supposed to be hilarious and I know a few of the people in the cast. I’ve been invited to a party afterwards.’ Yvette grinned. ‘So how long have you been seeing each other?’

  ‘She’s a friend,’ hissed Kit.

  ‘She’s delightful!’ Yvette said, smiling at Captain. Kit knew the man was trying not to laugh. ‘Can I have a word, darling?’

  He followed his mother as Captain sniggered into his glass.

  She stopped by the door.

  ‘Whatever you do, I will love you. You do know that, don’t you?’ his mother said in all seriousness. ‘I will never judge you, that’s not like me, other than that slut you married.’

  ‘I think you’re getting this all wrong.’

  ‘If this is the path you want to take, I support you,’ she said, forcing her brightest smile. ‘But god Kit, you could have picked a better looking one, you know. What about a Thai lady boy next time?’

  ‘That’s so funny!’

  … laughed Sasha, sat at the dining table, opening her large carton of soup. ‘Your mother thinks he’s your girlfriend.’

  ‘She always wanted one of us to be gay and now she thinks she’s hit jackpot.’

  ‘But she’d prefer it if you got a better looking transvestite,’ she let out another loud laugh. He was trying not to smile. ‘You know he’s got a date tonight.’

  ‘With a bloke?’

  ‘With Alexandra. I thought it was a bit dodgy, given what you three are up to but Captain says it’s nothing to do with anything,’ she said, stirring the soup with her chopsticks. ‘Alexandra apparently quite likes the idea he wants to dress as a woman but, then again, she is an actress.’

  Something had changed in the past few days.

  Sasha seemed relaxed and there was a little glow on her cheeks. He wondered if she laughed a lot when she was at home or with her friends.

  Kit knew so little about her.

  ‘It’s just me and you tonight,’ he said, glancing at the clock. It was just after eight. ‘Ryan’s spending some time with his grandfather.’

  They looked at each other and Kit squeezed some lime into his soup, picking up some noodles with his chopsticks. He slowly ate, not wanting to look at her. There was a nervous tension creeping through his gut.

  ‘Was it all pretend?’ she quietly asked. ‘Even the kiss?’

  ‘I wasn’t pretending anything,’ Kit replied, gulping his food. ‘Is that what you really think?’

  ‘How can I trust you?’

  ‘Because, in the short time I’ve known you, I care.’

  He put down his chopsticks and looked at her as she stared back.

  ‘That’s a bit fast. You don’t really know much about me.’

  ‘Let me find out because I don’t want to fuck this up. But I know I might have done it without even realising.’

  ‘Give me some time to get my head around it. There’s something about you guys that doesn’t add up. You’re not run of the mill crooks.’

  ‘We’re not crooks. We were approached separately. Me? It’s because I’m related to the man who owns the dance school.’ Taking a mouthful of noodles, he swallowed them down, the slithery texture filling his throat followed by the chilli after taste. ‘You know Sasha, I did see you a few times when you left the Vietnamese Café.’ She raised her eyebrows as if knowing what was going to come next. ‘Why do you go to the coffee shop and throw away half the contents of the cup?’

  ‘Jesus, you’ve been spying on me too?’

  Kit shook his head and smiled, seeing she was thinking hard on how to answer.

  ‘I’m watched all the time. They think I’m mental or waiting for the 27 bus to throw myself under. I tell them I go to the coffee shop and they don’t check.’

  ‘Who’s ‘they’?’

  ‘Some people who say they love me. I get time on my own without being monitored.’

  She put the cup to her mouth and sipped her soup, the dark eyes focussing on him. Slowly she put the container down, still staring. He couldn’t tear his eyes away from her.

  Kit was totally captivated by her face and hoped it didn’t look too obvious.

  ‘Why are you smiling?’ she asked. ‘This is an odd situation.’

  ‘Call it our first date,’ he shrugged, taking another large mouthful of noodles and chewing on a piece of over cooked beef. ‘It’s not as good as your café.’

  ‘It’s good of you to track this down for me.’

  ‘You’re a guest.’

  ‘Hostage.’

  ‘You’re here,’ he whispered and let out a sigh. ‘Sasha, I’m not a bad guy.’

  ‘So you say.’

  ‘I’m not.’

  Again she laughed out and continued eating her soup, now focussing on the table. They sat in silence, very reminiscent of how they were when they went for lunch.

  ‘I need to know more about you,’ she said quietly and finished off her food, getting up and putting the empty container in the bin. Sasha then sat next to him. ‘Tell me something so I can see you’re a good man.’

  ‘I don’t know what to say.’

  Kit didn’t want to turn and look at her.

  He was feeling the temptation of wanting to kiss and this was an extremely inopportune moment to do it.

  ‘I’ll tell you something about me.’ Sasha moved closer. He could feel her thig
h against his and wondered if this was some sort of tactic. ‘I tried to commit suicide twice. First time when I was released from hospital and the second time was the first anniversary of their deaths.’

  He instantly turned to look at her as she stared straight into his eyes. He couldn’t divert her stare, knowing people probably did as it was uncomfortable to listen to.

  ‘I lost my babies. It’s nothing you could imagine. Nothing I would want you to go through. It’s not grief that made me try. It was because I wanted to stop living as there is no point. Paul managed it, so why not me?’

  He noted her use of ‘is’ and felt worried that she hadn’t truly given up. Sasha fiddled with her long thick wavy hair, plaiting it roughly before flicking it over her shoulder.

  ‘The grief, even now, hits me with a bang.’ She smacked her palms together, very hard, making Kit jump. ‘It’s here.’ Her finger dug into her own chest plate. ‘This unbelievable pain I carry around with me every second I breathe. It won’t go away.’ The tears started to fill her eyes. ‘I wish it would.’

  ‘Don’t say anymore if you’re going to get upset,’ he said quietly, wanting to stroke her face to ease the pain.

  ‘The tears aren’t because I’m upset. I told you, it hurts and that’s why they come.’

  Kit had to look away, putting his face in his hands, unable to say anything comforting. She touched his fingers and pulled his hand away.

  ‘What made you become an addict?’ she asked gently. ‘It doesn’t happen out of the blue.’

  Taking a deep breath he didn’t know what to say. He looked at her puzzled expression.

  ‘My wife never loved me and I was living a lie,’ Kit eventually muttered. ‘She made a fool out of me and I didn’t even know.’

  ‘You must have done.’

  ‘I didn’t want to face up to it.’

  His chest began to get taut at the idea of how he felt about himself at the time.

  How he still did.

  ‘I’m not worth it and she was right,’ he mumbled, not wanting to look at Sasha. ‘‘Waste of space’ she used to call me. How right she was.’

  ‘I don’t think so.’

  ‘I was her puppet, Sasha. Do you know how that feels? She tells me to jump and I’d say how high because I wanted her to love me more but she only started to love me less. The cocaine? Alleviated the pain of my lack of self-worth.’

  It hurt him saying it out loud, never ever admitting it to anyone.

  ‘Rich man’s sherbet, that’s what that drug is,’ she said quietly.

  ‘How could I expect her to love me? I was a mess,’ he said, shaking his head from side to side. ‘A fat piece of worthless human being. I’ve tried to turn my life around, be drug free and lost three stones. Still doesn’t make me feel any better.’

  ‘Are you living with some sort of guilt?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘What is it?’

  Kit didn’t want to talk.

  The idea was to get information about Sasha’s life, not his. In a matter of seconds, she had managed to extract something from him.

  But he wanted her to know that he was suffering in a different way.

  ‘Gracie saved my life when she was five,’ he quietly said. ‘I’d forgotten she was coming home early and I was taking a toot but I’d been on the sherbet, as you call it, for over twenty four hours. And I was unfit so something gave way. I overdosed, collapsing at her feet. She called the ambulance and Justin.’

  ‘Did you do it on purpose?’ she asked, moving closer. He could feel her breath against his face. ‘Was that your intention?’

  ‘I just didn’t know when to stop and my child saw me. She’s still scared to this day that I’ll do it again. Gracie always makes sure she’s happy and never moans. I think she thinks it might have been something she did. I told her it wasn’t but she’s a child with a different logic. My mother doesn’t even know about this. We said it was a mild heart attack.’

  ‘Why did you do that?’

  ‘I’d worried her enough. I couldn’t hurt my mum even more,’ he said, turning to look at her, seeing the wide eyed expression.

  ‘You turned it around. Cleaned up, got healthy, all for the love of a good woman who is your child.’ Sasha smiled. ‘I bet you looked cuddly a bit fatter.’

  ‘I looked fat,’ he grinned, relieved he didn’t get upset or angry telling her his little secret. ‘I think if I tap danced back then, the floor would have collapsed.’

  They looked at each other, he didn’t know what he was feeling.

  It was very scary.

  ‘This is typical of my life,’ he said, gazing into her eyes. ‘Something good comes along and I fuck it up.’

  ‘Not necessarily.’

  ‘Are you awake?’

  … he asked, knocking on her door. ‘I wanted to check you were okay.’

  They’d chatted for the rest of the evening, nothing deep and personal, just mundane trivia.

  He’d not found out much more about how she got the bruising or anything else for that matter but Kit didn’t care. They had sat on the sofa and he felt happy.

  ‘Yes,’ she answered. ‘Come in.’

  Sasha was in bed sitting up. He walked in and was met with a weary smile.

  Kit didn’t know what to say.

  ‘Why have you volunteered to stay here every night?’ she asked as he sat at the bottom of her bed, his back facing her. ‘I’m sure your own bed at home is more comfortable.’

  ‘This place is much nicer.’

  ‘Mine too.’

  ‘I know.’

  ‘Did you have a snoop?’ Sasha asked, the laughter beginning. ‘There really isn’t much to see.’

  He looked at her unpacked bag on the floor and the shoes beside it.

  ‘You don’t have many things,’ he said, turning to look at her. ‘It’s as if you expect to up and leave at any time.’

  ‘Just possessions. Once upon a time I’d love all those material things but it doesn’t really matter. At the end of the day it’s not important.’ Sasha let out a sigh. ‘When it happened, I couldn’t go home afterwards. It was hard for me to step back into the house. About eighteen months later I decided to get a grip and take all the things I wanted. The problem was, all I wanted no longer existed.’

  He examined the focus of thought which was held in her expression. Then she gulped.

  ‘All I could take were the physical memories of them. Paintings Florence had done. Baby clothes of Mylo. It was a different life.’

  Kit stared.

  There were no words he could utter.

  Then he noticed she smiled.

  ‘I couldn’t go out on my own for ages, mainly because I’d get upset. I kept hearing children call ‘mummy’ and I thought it was them. My babies calling for me,’ she said, taking a deep breath. ‘Kit, I don’t sleep very well at night. I keep hearing Florence call me or Mylo crying and I wake up, expecting to see them but they’re not there. Then I’m afraid to close my eyes, upset I’ll hear them again though I desperately want to.’

  The silence was long as she looked away.

  ‘The spells in clinics didn’t help just numbed me a little. It didn’t stop me thinking. People came to visit but I don’t know who and what they said, not all the time.’ Sasha’s smile faded. ‘Words of comfort. Words of honesty. Words of absolute bollocks, well, that was when I was on life support. My mother was blathering on about this and that. No wonder I stayed in a coma.’

  ‘She was probably very worried.’

  ‘She was devastated.’ Another long silence hit the room. ‘My list of problems stem from trauma, grief, guilt. Bloody psychiatrists get paid for telling you what you know. Counsellors get paid for making you find out yourself and force you to sort it out in your head. I expect when you were in rehab, you had to go through the same thing?’

  Swallowing hard, he didn’t know what to say. Her pain was very much like his own.

  Raw.

  ‘I don’t think I�
��m a good enough father to Grace,’ he said quietly, his deep fear creeping through. ‘I won’t let her down but I’m scared I will.’

  ‘But she’s here and loves you. If you love her as much as I think you do, you won’t let her down. You’ll let her see the good man you are and she’ll love you for it.’

  It happened.

  He started to cry.

  The overwhelming sob came hurtling through his throat. Kit wanted to jump and walk away, to hide the embarrassment of the situation but he couldn’t.

  Sasha had wrapped her arms around him and was cradling him to her chest.

  He couldn’t walk away even if he wanted to and there was another surprising thing.

  Kit didn’t recoil from her touch. She was holding him when usually he’d want to run away.

  ‘You can trust me Kit. I understand,’ she whispered. ‘I really do.’

  ‘I’m sorry,’

  … he said, wiping his face with the tissues Sasha had shoved into his hands. ‘I don’t know where that came from. I better go.’

  ‘There’s nothing wrong with crying,’ she whispered. ‘It has to be done.’

  ‘I don’t cry,’ Kit replied, scrunching up his face and shaking his head. ‘It’s not me.’

  Jumping up to his feet, he marched out and went down the corridor to his own room.

  Something made him shiver as he stood alone. He went straight to the bathroom and took a shower, hoping the hot pellets of water would wash away what was boiling up inside his chest.

  Whatever it was, it felt immense and probably like the same pain Sasha spoke about.

  He then put it down to the fact her life was probably in a sorrier state than his and no comparison could be made.

  At least his daughter was alive.

  The sob has risen to his throat once again. He sucked it back down.

  His utter guilt at what he did to his child and how he could have lost her by his stupidity was clear for him to see.

  Kit would never be able to make it up to her, compensate the fear the little girl had in her eyes every time she said ‘goodbye’ wondering if she’d see him again.

  Four years had made little difference to Grace. She’d call and check up on him, especially over the weekend.