The Grave

by Diane M Dickson

  “Yes, sorry. There should be some paper pants in the package. Sorry.”

  “It’s okay.” She had to keep this woman relaxed, friendly if possible.

  Her heart was pounding, she had made a decision and it was tearing her apart. She needed to see Samuel as much as she needed to breathe but saw now it just couldn’t be. After her visit to his bedside the police would take over, lead her away and then, who knew? She understood the day could end with her locked in a cell somewhere, her life taken out of her hands as the great juggernaut of the law rolled forward. They might put her in handcuffs, she had told them she shot someone so it didn’t seem too far-fetched, certainly they would escort her closely. If she was to escape then they must be taken completely by surprise.

  If she had simply shot the man at the hotel, damn she still didn’t even know his name, if the tale she had invented had been the truth, then she might have taken the chance, thrown her future into the hands of the authorities but there was all the rest of it. There was Samuel’s history of involvement with drugs, violence, his continued flight, and although she knew so little of this she knew that being with him had tainted her. Then there was the other thing, the horrible thing with Phil, it was there, a monster lurking in every corner, behind every door. She had seen a man killed, a man she had known and shared a bed with. That he had been beating her was relevant at the early stage but once she left Samuel to deal with it, to hide the evidence she had heaped trouble upon trouble and had no idea where it left her.

  Great tears followed so many others she’d already cried, tears for Samuel, for herself and for the unfairness of life. Unbelievably she had found someone to love, someone who had been kind and now was about to leave him while he fought to live.

  If she stayed she couldn’t help him, once they started the questioning it would undoubtedly make things worse. She didn’t have his skill at surviving against the odds, didn’t know how to lie and react to situations the way he did, though she knew she would have to learn and quickly. Any mistakes she made could well cost him his freedom. Though it tore her apart she had to leave him, leave him and trust in his skill at survival.

  She was choking now on the unshed sorrow, her throat was tight with the pain which seemed unbearable yet must be borne. There had to be a way not only to bear it but to act now with bravery and daring and get away. What would come afterwards was lost in the mist of tomorrow.

  “There are no shoes, can I keep my shoes on?”

  “Oh, oh right, yeah normally they would give you slipper things. Well, I don’t see what else we can do, yeah keep em on. I suppose you’ve walked about so much here they wouldn’t be any use to us anyway.”

  “Right. Okay.”

  Holding the bag of clothes in front of her she stepped out of the cubicle, locked a small smile into her lips and handed the parcel over.

  “Come on Sylvie. Let’s go and see Samuel and then we have to get on with this.”

  They turned into the corridor side by side. The hospital was waking to the day and porters, nurses, cleaners passed them with curious glances, one or two smiled knowing that this little world held many stories and it was of no use to jump to conclusions. A girl in a grey tracksuit walking with a policewoman could mean so many things.

  As they approached the elevator Sylvie began to form a plan, she had to act on instinct, take whatever fate threw her way. Constable Forbes was fairly relaxed; she was tired and trusting, she probably thought the only thing possibly on Sylvie’s mind was her boyfriend behind the clouded glass doors at the end of this long corridor.

  A small group of workers were waiting for the lift, Sylvie slowed her pace.

  “Are you alright Sylvie?”

  “No, not really, I feel dizzy, a bit sick. I’m scared, you know what will he look like and what’s going to happen.”

  “Hey, keep hold love. We’ll sort it out. Let’s get this bit over and then we can get you some breakfast perhaps and a cup of tea. Look just hang on, take a minute.”

  “Yeah, yeah thanks.”

  The lift was on the floor below, coming up, the little crowd was shuffling and preparing to walk forward. Sylvie leaned against the wall, closed her eyes, listening for the doors to open. The crowd moved in, someone pushed the button, the doors began to close, she had to judge this just right, wait, wait. Now, now as the door swished the final few inches she straightened and bolted into the grey metal space.

  She pushed into the group of startled people and as the slit of light closed she had a last view of Constable Forbes darting forward finger extended ready to poke at the buttons, to stop the lift.

  She forced a giggle from her lips. “Whew nearly missed it, came over all dizzy again. I swear that’s the last time I go on a binge. Don’t know what my mum would say if I let the police take me home.”

  She watched their faces, lips pursed in disapproval, eyebrows raised, she had hit the right note. They had seen it so many times, silly drunken youngsters taking up precious resources week after week, never learning the lessons. They turned away from her, beneath their contempt. One young cleaner winked, and she smiled back at him.

  As the doors swished open on the ground floor she flew out. Alarms were sounding somewhere, security men were scurrying forward but for the moment confusion reigned. She sprinted across the tiles and out of the glass doors, over the pavement, jigging back and forth between taxis, pedestrians, a patient transport vehicle. She flung her head back and forth, with no idea of how to get out of the hospital grounds she simply ran along the roadway. There would be no time, no second chance, she had committed herself. Now they knew she had something more to hide than being forced to protect herself from a crazed gunman. That she had left Samuel struggling against the odds in the Intensive Care Unit would speak volumes to them and from now they would treat her as any other fugitive criminal. She had entered the world of her father, but on a totally different level and from a different place. As she ran she let the tears flow freely down her face, all she could do now was run as far and as fast as she could. Away, just away.

  Chapter 42

  Through the big stone gateposts and out onto the main road. Traffic was building as the morning headed towards rush hour. She turned right simply because she turned right, the city was an unknown landscape and the streets a maze of shops, offices and terraced houses. She ran upwards, it was a gentle incline but an animal instinct told her to run from the dead end that was the river and so it was. She skirted round the protestant cathedral, the majesty of it lost on her. There was building work everywhere, the old city being ripped apart to make way for hope and endeavour. Her track suit and trainers rendered her invisible; a city where girls ran to the shops in their pyjamas and a huge percentage of the population spent their day in casual clothes ignored a scrawny girl in sports gear.

  Her heart hammered and each breath tore at her throat on and on, taking corners on a whim, turning and backtracking like the hunted creature she was, she tried to confuse the trail. Then there came a time when she couldn’t run anymore. She was done, had no idea where she was or what to do next. She leaned against a grimy brick wall, bent forward and rested her hands on her thighs. Panic threatened again and she pushed it away. After a minute or so the stitch in her side eased and she raised her head. All around her cars and pedestrians forged into their days, young mothers pushed buggies and dragged at reluctant toddlers, old women hobbled about with wheeled shopping bags and now and again a little invalid scooter would threaten her toes. It was too much, she had to find some peace, somewhere there had to be a place where she could curl into a ball and hide from this dreadful new reality.

  She had no money, not a penny. The cheap grey tracksuit and a pair of paper knickers. That was what her life had been reduced to. She couldn’t have Samuel, didn’t have a family and had left her friends. What was the point of it all? She was overwhelmed with despair. For a while her brain refused to function usefully, how could this have happened, what was she going to do, what on earth
was she going to do?

  There was a small park up ahead, a little playground and a patch of grass, some benches. She made her way through the entryway and flopped onto the first bench. Birds sang and she was aware of the chattering and laughing of children, a couple of dogs barked. She heard it from a distance, removed and unreal, thoughts swirled unformed in her brain and her hands began to shake. She couldn’t breathe now, gasping she leaned forward.

  “You awright?”

  She shook her head, go away, leave me alone, please don’t make me try to speak.

  “Are you sick?”

  Again she shook her head.

  “Stoned, drunk, what?”

  She raised her face. A tall, skinny girl stood in front of her; there was interest on her face and slight concern.

  “Only if you’re stoned you shouldn’t stay here, the bizzies come through here.”

  At the mention of police Sylvie’s head jerked up, she shot a look right and left.

  “It’s okay, don’t panic, there’s none now.”

  “I’m not stoned or drunk. I’m really tired that’s all, I’m just really, really tired.”

  “Are you on the game?”

  “What? No, no. I just, oh well I’m lost really and my friend is in the hospital and I don’t have any money and…”

  She couldn’t carry on, the damned tears started again, stole her voice and left her helpless and hopeless sobbing on the park bench with the skinny girl watching, her head tipped to one side. After a moment or two she sat down and took hold of Sylvie’s hand, it was a simple, honest gesture and as Sylvie leaned towards her the stranger wrapped her arms around the heaving shoulders and patted her gently crooning quietly.

  “Aw now, come on now, it’s okay, really it’s okay. Come on now.”

  “God I’m sorry, I’m really sorry.”

  Sylvie pushed away making a small space between herself and the stranger who now dropped her hands into her lap and was simply smiling , turned on the bench so she could look at this bedraggled and forlorn young woman.

  “D’ya feel better. A good cry’s the best thing, gets it all out.”

  Sylvie nodded, no she didn’t feel better, didn’t believe there would ever be a ‘better’ but this person was so very kind she didn’t want to cause offence.

  “Tell ya what, I was goin’ to the caf’, get a cuppa, come on, I’ll sub ya.”

  “No, no, it’s fine. I couldn’t I’m sorry I don’t know what came over me.”

  “Where’re ya from?”

  “Well, down near London, but I’ve lived in a lot of places.”

  “Yeah, I could tell ya weren’t from round ‘ere. Posh you are.”

  “Posh, me, no, no I’m not.”

  “Well you sound posh to me. Anyway, ya comin’? Ya might as well.”

  She stood and dragged a short jacket tightly around thin shoulders, again that patient, slightly quizzical look and then she turned from the bench and took a couple of steps, looked back and jerked her head, an unspoken invitation. Sylvie stood up and matched her pace to the other girl’s and they headed out of the park and back into the hurly burly of the main road.

  Chapter 43

  Steam clouded the windows of the little café where the air was warm with the smell of breakfast. The lanky girl stalked up to the counter.

  “Two teas and two egg on toast Phil.”

  The sound of the familiar name swept through Sylvie like a cold wave, she began to shiver. For a while it seemed she may faint and so she caught her lower lip tight between her teeth, she tasted metal and the small pain brought tears to her eyes but beat back the encroaching darkness.

  “There ya go, food’ll be ready in a bit, they’ll give us a shout.”

  “I don’t have any money, I can’t pay you back.”

  “No, I guessed. Don’t worry, I got my Giro yesterday.”

  The mug was heavy, thick and white and the tea was strong. The girl across the table trickled a couple of paper sachets of sugar into the liquid and stirred it round with a wooden stick.

  “So, I’m Lennie.”

  She stretched out a thin hand. A tattoo of a snake coiled round the bony wrist and disappeared into the beige cotton sleeve of the thin jacket.

  “Sylvie, thanks Lennie, I really mean it, thanks.”

  Tears started to her eyes again and as she brushed them away with the back of her hand. Sylvie shot an embarrassed grin across the Formica towards her new friend.

  “I’m sorry about all this, I’ve got stuff going on and to be honest I don’t know what I’m going to do about it all. My boyfriend’s in the hospital, he, well he got hurt, it’s really bad and I feel rotten about leaving him but I didn’t have any choice.”

  “Is it the filth?”

  “No, well, actually yes. The police are looking for me but that’s not all of it.”

  “Hang on.”

  Lennie unwound her lanky frame and retrieved two plates piled with toast topped with fried eggs. She slapped them down on the table, collected knives and forks from a wooden stand and then scraped her chair back in place. Sylvie was still trying to find a way to explain some of what had happened to her without risking this girl, who she knew nothing about, turning her in to the police.

  For a while they ate and drank quietly, glancing at one another and sharing a smile, each a little shy now the original camaraderie of encounter had past.

  “So, your fella, what’s his name?”

  “Samuel, he’s called Samuel.”

  “Is he goin’ to be okay d’ya think?”

  “I don’t know, he’s in intensive care, they operated on him most of the night.”

  “Shit girl, what ya’ doin’ here you should be with him. Was it them slags of nurses, they can be right bitches sometimes, when me granddad was in hospital they kept tellin’ us to leave, “It’s not visitin’ time, we have work to do.” “Well I told ‘em. Sod you and your work this is me granddad and I stayed. Good job too, he died and if we’d a gone he’d a been on his own. Not right that.

  “You should go back, tell ‘em you’re stayin’. They won’t throw you out, not these days, tell ‘em you’ll go to the papers or better still on Facebook.”

  “No, no the hospital people were fine, they were lovely actually. It’s not that.

  “The police were going to arrest me. I ran away, that’s why I’m in this”

  She plucked at the thin grey top.

  “Ah. Did you do it, hurt your boyfriend then?”

  “No, no he was shot, not by me though, by someone else.”

  “Shit.”

  “Yeah. So, anyway I shot the man who shot Samuel. I killed him.”

  As she said it Sylvie felt her control slipping again, her hands began to shake, rattling the cutlery against the cheap porcelain. Lennie leaned over and took the knife and fork from her hand laying them tidily together before covering Sylvie’s quivering fingers with her own warm, bony hand.

  “They won’t arrest you though will they? I mean if you shot him in self-defence. You didn’t do anything wrong. You should tell ‘em. I’ll come with you if you like, the bizzies don’t bother me, they all fart in the bath just like you and me. Oh, God I’m so rude, sorry. I don’t know that you do, oh that’s no better and leaning away from the table she gave a great gale of a laugh. “God, what am I like, honestly, sorry. My mam says I should make sure my brain’s in gear before I open my bloody mouth. Sorry, but I mean it, you should tell ‘em. There’s no need for you to ‘ave run away.”

  “No, no that’s not all of it. There’s more, so much more and I can’t really tell you but it isn’t as simple as it sounds. If I go back and they start to ask me questions then I know, I just know I’ll get Samuel into trouble and he’s spent so long, years and years just trying to keep out of it. I wish I’d never met him, I love him, God I really love him and yet I’ve brought him nothing but trouble right from the start and now I can’t go back and I can’t be with him and I don’t even know if he’s stil
l alive.”

  The sobs would wait no longer and while the workmen and young mums and old ladies sipping their instant coffee watched, with a mixture of intrigue and embarrassment, she laid her head on the table top and cried as her heart broke.

  Lennie sat silently on the hard chair, now and again she lifted the mug to sip at the cooling tea. Her face was impassive but pensive, she made no move to comfort Sylvie but behaved as though having her dining companion dissolve into floods of tears was an everyday event and worthy of no more notice than she would have given a dropped chip or a spilt tube of sugar.

  Chapter 44

  The sobs subsided, the tears dried but she felt dead and cold inside. Tea and food had done little to lift her mood and even the sparky company of this down to earth young woman made no real difference.