The Edge of Sanity

by Sheryl Browne

  Coming back down, Daniel felt suddenly claustrophobic in the close confines of the hall. He knew why, a legacy of his childhood and panic-induced, claustrophobia was something he had never quite been able to overcome. It was also something Jo wasn’t aware of, and which Daniel wasn’t about to give in to. Not here. Not now. The last thing he needed was her thinking he was using the sympathy card. He should be pitied, but for different reasons than this.

  He needed to breathe.

  Tugging open the front door, Daniel almost fell through it, so desperate was he to get air past the choking lump in his throat.

  ‘Dan …?’

  Jo was behind him as he took several slow breaths.

  ‘What’s wrong?’

  ‘Nothing,’ Daniel said quickly.

  Jo arched an eyebrow.

  He smiled, and lied. ‘Not enough sleep.’

  Jo nodded, though from the look in her eye, she wasn’t convinced.

  ‘I’m fine, honestly,’ he assured her. ‘You will ring me, won’t you? If there’s a problem, I mean, with Kayla.’

  ‘Problem how?’

  ‘She might be wiser than we give her credit for Jo, but she’s still only fifteen, and as confused as hell,’ Daniel pointed out. ‘If she … If you have any problems … You know where to find me.’

  ‘She’ll be okay, I promise.’ Jo hesitated, and then placed a hand on his arm. ‘But I will call, if I need to.’

  ‘Good.’ Daniel nodded, relieved. His gut instinct was telling him something wasn’t right, that this staying over at Hannah’s was a cover up. Judging by the make-up and the strappy number Kayla was wearing under her top, they were off to the nightclub, more than likely. The thought didn’t thrill him, but he could hardly lock up his daughter. He’d read her the riot act, of course. That is, he would, if he were here.

  Not that it would make much difference. She would go anyway and he would just have to accept that kids did, and hope she had common sense enough not to do anything but dance. Tonight was different to other nights though. Kayla had gone off angry and distraught. Who knew what a fifteen-year old girl might do to let off a little steam.

  ‘I’m at the New Inn,’ he reminded Jo. ‘I’ll keep my mobile switched on. Bye, Jo. I’ll call you tomorrow anyhow.’

  Daniel turned quickly away, wishing he could stay. Jo wasn’t likely to have wanted him to after he had announced he was going to France, but she had hesitated when he had suggested it. Maybe there was a way back, if he could be as strong as Jo and take a step towards her. Right now, despite not wanting to go, there was somewhere else he knew he needed to be.

  He walked a few steps, and then stopped. ‘The proceeds left over from the sale, they’re for you, by the way. You and Kayla,’ he said. He had to say it. If Jo thought it was blood money, so be it. She might well be right. ‘I just wanted you to know.’

  Jo didn’t say anything. Wasn’t much to say, Daniel supposed.

  ‘Do you know what fubar means?’ Jo called after him, as he headed for the gates.

  Daniel turned back. ‘Sorry?’

  ‘What Kayla said we were. Do you know what it means?’

  Daniel shook his head. ‘Not a clue.’

  ‘Well, assuming you can work the f.u. bit out, the last three words are beyond all repair.’

  He hesitated. ‘Are we, Jo?’

  ‘I hope not.’ Jo offered him a small smile. ‘Call me tomorrow.’

  ****

  ‘Shhhh.’ Kayla nudged Hannah, who’d clambered up on the seat beside her to watch Daniel leave, got her heel caught in the upholstery, and splatted her face on the window.

  ‘It’s a shame,’ Hannah observed, rubbing her nose. ‘He’s well fit, your dad, y’know.’

  ‘Yeah, well, you can bloody well have him.’ Kayla rolled her eyes and stood up in the seating area of the boat. Thank God she had had the foresight to snatch the keys and open up earlier so she and Hannah could meet there. Her dad was bound to have caught up with her otherwise.

  He was pretty fit, though, Kayla conceded, for his age. Knocking on forty was ancient in Kayla’s book, but Hannah had the hots for him, nevertheless. Kayla wished her mum still did. Then maybe he wouldn’t be buggering off.

  France—it might as well be flippin’ Australia. It amounted to the same thing. He was leaving, end of. So what? Kayla could live with it. Without him breathing down her neck, checking where she’d been. Who with. What time she’d be back. She’d be sixteen soon, anyway. Then she could bugger off, as well. Meanwhile, she’d have some fun, she decided. Get some kicks and enjoy life.

  She turned her mind away from her embarrassingly annoying parents to more important things, checking the curtains for chinks, before she got changed, just in case. The boat, obscured by others, couldn’t be seen from the house. She had checked it out earlier, but it was better to be safe than sorry. Her mum poking her nose through the porthole would put the kibosh on things straightaway.

  Satisfied, Kayla flicked on the lights, for all the good they did. The engine obviously hadn’t been turned over lately, which meant the battery was as flat as a pancake. Honestly, the place was going to the dogs. Good job they were selling up. Kayla couldn’t care less.

  ‘Skirt?’ She held out her hand, whilst checking her hair in the cabin mirror.

  ‘Your wish is my command, m’lady,’ said Hannah, obliging with the chiffon skirt and a neat little curtsy. ‘Anything else madam requires?’

  ‘Yes,’ Kayla sighed, ‘a small island in the Bahamas, and a big stick to beat some sense into my parents with.’

  ‘Charlie not on your wish-list, then?’ Hannah waggled her eyebrows.

  ‘Oh, yes.’ Kayla blushed. ‘And him.’

  ‘On his own? At a booth table, possibly? So you can get to know him a little better? Nudge nudge.’ Hannah winked.

  ‘Perfect.’ Kayla nodded, peeled off her leggings and wriggled into the hairband-sized skirt.

  ‘I’ll see what I can do.’ Hannah smirked, elbowed Kayla aside and set about applying her own make-up. ‘Um, Kayla,’ she paused in her not-too-subtle application of lip gloss, ‘I know you’re, like, trying to get off with him—’

  ‘Not trying, Hannah. Going to.’

  ‘Right.’ Hannah nodded, turning to the side to readjust her padded plunge bra. ‘Going to get off with him. But you’re not actually going to, um …’

  ‘What?’ Kayla helped herself to Hannah’s lippy. ‘Shove over,’ she said, making a neat little ‘O’ with her mouth.

  Hannah waited until she had finished with the lippy, then handed Kayla her eyeshadow. ‘Y’know, you’re not going to, er, do it with him, are you?’

  ‘Dunno.’ Kayla shrugged, standing back to appraise herself. ‘Might. Depends.’

  ‘On what?’ Hannah asked warily.

  ‘On whether Charlie wants to.’

  Hannah nodded, her expression worldly-wise.

  Though she felt anything but.

  She glanced at Kayla, not sure what to make of her determination to sleep with Charlie. Hannah was concerned. As far as she knew, Kayla—for all her bluff, had never let anyone beyond clumsy grope down bra stage. A more minor concern was, where the bloody hell was she going to be while Kayla was making out with Mr Cocksure himself? Standing in the shower tray?

  They were supposed to be staying on the boat together, she and Kayla. And Hannah wasn’t up for a threesome with Charlie.

  Kayla paused mid-third coat of mascara, apparently noting Hannah’s worried expression. ‘What’s your problem?’ she asked. ‘You’ve done it, haven’t you, with dickhead?’

  ‘Steve,’ Hannah corrected her. ‘And yes, but …’

  ‘But what?’ Kayla ditched her trackie top and grabbed her bag.

  But I haven’t done it actually, Hannah wanted to say. Well, not all the way. In fact, if she didn’t count Steve’s tongue having intimate conversation with her tonsils, the only kind of intercourse they’d had was the verbal sort.

  Hannah felt now might be th
e time to confess to a little fanciful embroidery of her sexual encounters with Steve. On the other hand, she’d look like a total saddo at school if the truth ever came out. ‘But nothing,’ she said, ‘except … Well, you can’t bring him back here, can you?’

  ‘I don’t see why not,’ Kayla replied matter-of-factly. ‘I could shag him in my bed with my door open. My mum wouldn’t notice. She’ll have popped a pill. And doting Daddy isn’t here, is he?’

  Hannah sighed, feeling relieved. Kayla was having a strop, that was all, peed off with the parents as she was. ‘Yeah, I know what you mean. Parents suck, for sure,’ she said, sympathetically.

  ‘Come on.’ Kayla hooked Jo’s earrings into her lobes and headed for the door. ‘If we don’t go now, he’ll have some slapper with legs up to her implants in tow, and he won’t even notice me.’

  ‘He’ll notice you, trust me.’ Hannah noted Kayla’s fake-tan and faux-snakeskin shoes as she clunked up the steps behind her, which made her legs look as if they went on forever. Too cool.

  ‘So,’ she said, following Kayla’s precarious progress across the rear decks of two boats, ‘you’re not going to bring him back here, then?’

  ‘Hurry up, before someone sees us,’ Kayla hissed, ahead of her. ‘And keep low or the security light’ll kick in and then we’ll be well stuffed.’

  Wonderful, thought Hannah. Now I’m supposed to make like a midget. In six inch heels, she didn’t think so.

  ****

  Charlie sauntered into The Slug and Lettuce and scoured the bar for Steve. Didn’t take too long to spot him. Steve stood out like a sore thumb, now he had had the back of his head tattooed. Kanji he said it was. Yeah, well, whatever, it must’ve bloody hurt, that. Charlie wouldn’t fancy having his head jabbed by some prick with a needle. He had to give Steve his due, bearing in mind he was basically a wimp.

  The tattoo might make Steve look hard, but in reality, the bloke was a right soft twat, visiting his old gran every week like a good little boy. Leave it out, he’d tell Charlie if he ever ribbed him about it. Won’t ‘ave a word said about her. Brought me up single-handedly, she did. Yeah, to be a right wuss, Charlie’d often thought but didn’t say. Steve looked the part. That was what counted. People tended not to mess with Charlie with Steve playing heavy at his side, which was handy when he had debts to collect.

  ‘All right?’

  Steve nodded, as Charlie came alongside him.

  ‘Two Becks, mate.’ Charlie summoned the barman, who served Steve before the girls in front of him.

  ‘Yeah, not bad.’ Charlie nodded back. He didn’t smile. That was for girlies. Talking of which, the one next to Steve was looking a bit po-faced not getting served.

  ‘Allow me,’ Charlie offered courteously, wearing his best winning smile. Well, it was worth a try. She was some fit-looking bird, she was. And judging by her hair and clothes, top totty, if ever he saw it.

  ‘How very …’ the girl smiled back and fluttered her eyes ‘ … predictable. Drop dead, darling,’ she said curtly. ‘Two white wines, please.’ She turned back to eyeball the barman, who, obviously able to sense trouble, quickly obliged.

  ‘Tart,’ Charlie muttered, as she turned from the bar.

  Steve smirked. ‘Think you lucked out there, Prince Charmin’.

  ‘Shut it.’ Charlie supped his pint, his eyes trailing after the cheeky cow as she wiggled back to her seat. ‘She’s got a fat arse, anyway. Plenty more where that came from.’

  Steve chuckled. ‘Yeah, right.’

  ‘Got the stuff?’ Charlie dismissed the posh tart’s rebuff. Wasn’t worth getting in a state about. He’d his good name to consider. In any case, he had got more important business to attend to right now. Picking some slapper up in the nightclub later would be no problem. There were always plenty available, desperate to get off with a good-looking bloke. He’d seen them, huddled in girly groups, sniggering and secretly pointing him out. Dead obvious they were. He didn’t even have to buy them a drink half the time. Just paid them the odd compliment, then clicked his fingers and they came running, tails wagging.

  Wonder where that bloody dog got to? Charlie paused briefly to ponder his missing puppy.

  Steve winked and patted his jacket pocket. ‘Sorted.’

  ‘Good man.’ Charlie knocked his pint back.

  Steve followed suit.

  Time to get down to business. Steve in tow, Charlie swaggered out of the pub, giving the tart with the attitude a derisive glance as he did so.

  A few samples handed out in the queue, as usual, Charlie thought, and that was it. Job done. Steve and he would be easily identified as the guys in possession. No need to work up a sweat touting for business. The punters would come looking for them. A doddle. Like taking candy from a baby.

  ****

  Scum, Daniel thought. They were moving through the line like a disease, handing out drugs. Ecstasy, he guessed, like sweets to kids. And kids they were.

  Kayla’s trick of heading upstairs a fifteen-year old, and down again an hour later an eighteen-year old, had Daniel wise to the art of dressing up. Whatever happened to her gawky teenage stage, he wondered, as he paid particular attention to the girls in the queue. Had he blinked and missed that part of her life? Did she really go nervously off to senior school a child one day, and stride confidently home an adult the next?

  Time might have stood still the last six months, but it hadn’t stopped Kayla growing into a beautiful young woman. Daniel should have been looking. He’d learnt to look a bit harder lately when she went out. And an innocent sleepover was definitely not Kayla’s game plan tonight.

  Christ, there went another two, straight in without their ID being checked. Daniel raked a hand through is hair, irritated, as one of the bouncers waved on two girls dressed as babes. They were either blind or turning a blind eye. Daniel felt inclined to relieve one muscle-bound moron of his Ray Bans, he being a touch too over-familiar as one girl passed by. Maybe then he could see what was going on under his nose.

  Probably not a good idea. Getting involved in a fracas outside the nightclub wouldn’t help. Daniel reminded himself why he was here, skulking in the shadows across from Strobes. Then wondered what the bloody hell he was doing here, exactly. If, by some miracle, he did pick Kayla out in the crowd, what then? She wouldn’t thank him for embarrassing her in front of her friends, alienating her from them, more than likely—making her more lonely than she must already feel.

  Maybe he should just go? If he did approach her, there might well be a stand-off knowing his daughter as well as he did. Then, short of physical restraint, which was a no-go in Daniel’s book, she’d go in anyway. There’d be no point asking her not to, given her respect for him was obviously nil.

  With good reason. What kind of a father had he been lately? The absent, emotional kind. Then he had announced he wouldn’t be available in future at all, other than via email, mobile or the channel tunnel. With that in mind, there was no way Kayla was about to listen to anything he might have to say.

  He was powerless to stop her, but not to watch out for her. He could do that much. He kneaded his neck. He was aching, all over. A shower and sleep was what he needed—craved—though sleep didn’t come easily. When it did, it was to torment him. But he needed more to know that Kayla was safe. The hurt in her eyes when she had run off tonight spoke more than words ever could. She was a mess inside. He should have seen it before now. Done something about it.

  The way she was feeling, anything might happen. She’d be looking for an outlet for her emotions. And with drug dealing scum like those two about …

  Daniel had no choice. He’d stand here until the club emptied if needs be, and maybe, God willing, he’d get lucky and not see Kayla.

  ****

  Half an hour later, Daniel was still waiting. He might be wrong. Kayla could have gone anywhere, after all. She might be at McDonalds, at any number of friends’ houses. The one place she wasn’t, though, was at Hannah’s.

  ‘When di
d you last ring?’ he asked Jo on his mobile.

  ‘Five minutes ago,’ Jo answered anxiously. ‘She did mention something about going to the pictures. They might have gone to the late show. It was late when she left, after all,’ she reasoned, as much for her own benefit as his, Daniel suspected.

  ‘So where’s Hannah’s mother?’ Daniel asked. ‘Why isn’t she there, if Kayla’s staying over?’

  ‘She might have gone out. She is divorced,’ Jo reminded him. ‘And she does have a gentleman friend.’

  Daniel nodded slowly. ‘Yes, I suppose.’ It was possible, he thought, but not probable. Would the woman go out and leave two teenage girls to their own devices? Daniel stopped himself short of judgemental. Hannah and Kayla might be too young to leave legally, but fifteen year old kids didn’t need babysitters. And he certainly wasn’t parent of the year.

  ‘I’ll keep trying,’ Jo said. ‘Speak to you later. Oh, and Daniel, keep your mobile on, will you?’

  ‘Goes without saying,’ Daniel said softly, wishing he could say something more reassuring. Don’t worry or she’ll be fine would only convince Jo he thought Kayla was anything but, so he said, ‘I’m here, Jo, okay?’ instead.

  She paused. ‘Thanks.’

  Daniel heard her sigh, then a click as the line went dead.

  Damn. Why hadn’t he said more? Insisted on going back there? Told her he’d always be there, if that’s what she wanted. Because the time wasn’t right. And because she might not.

  He waited another half hour, checking his watch every two minutes, praying his mobile would ring, hoping it didn’t. No news is good news, he tried to convince himself.

  But it wasn’t. This was not good. Not good at all. What the hell was he going to do? If he stood here much longer, he might well get picked up by the police. A thirty-eight-year-old bloke, eyeing up young girls outside a nightclub …

  No, he couldn’t hang about here any longer.

  He speed-dialled Jo, and turned away from the bouncers, who were watching him now with open suspicion. Pity the prats didn’t apply the same scrutiny to the clientele.

  ****

  Kayla turned a pale shade of white. ‘Oh, crap,’ she gasped, clutching Hannah’s arm outside the nightclub and dragging her backwards. ‘I don’t believe it.’