by Jane Bidder
“That’s fifty pence for the use of the computers, please.”
“But we didn’t use them.” She heard her voice rising indignantly like Marlene when accused of smoking during break-time. “Hardly at all, anyway. You didn’t find anything out for me.”
“That wasn’t my fault.”
“Take this.” The old man was holding out a silver coin. “I’ll pay for it.”
Kayleigh was overcome with relief. For a minute, she’d thought the librarian might ring the police and then she’d really have had it. “Thanks,” she said. Then, picking up her rucksack, she ambled out of the library, taking care to appear as though she knew where she was going.
Kayleigh walked on for a bit, out of the town, and then down a long lane that didn’t seem to go anywhere. So she turned back and went down a different road at the crossroads, passing a large farm with cows outside and a disgusting smell that tickled her nostrils.
Kayleigh didn’t like cows. When she’d gone on the school inner-city trip, one of them had made a horrible brown mess right by her, spattering muck all over her ankles. Marlene had thought it was very funny.
So she turned back again and found herself outside the library once more. It had a ‘Closed’ sign on the door. Her stomach was so empty now that she felt really wobbly. If she had some money, she’d be all right.
Rifling through her rucksack one more time, just in case Marlene had left a spare pound coin in it, she came across a stale biscuit. It tasted like sawdust. Not that she’d ever tasted sawdust but she could imagine it all too well. Sometimes a vivid imagination was more of a curse than a blessing. That was another of Mr Brown’s sayings.
Then she thought of the newsagent.
Marlene had what she called a ‘habit’. It wasn’t a drugs habit or a fags habit. It was a nicking habit. Over the years, Kayleigh had watched with a mixture of horror and awe as her friend had got away with lacy bras, skimpy little pants, packets of crisps and magazines. On a couple of occasions, she had nearly got caught and once she had been cautioned.
Kayleigh might only have been a witness but she’d seen enough to know that she wasn’t that kind of person. On the other hand, she’d never been hungry like this before.
The newsagent’s was still open but there was no one inside. Not even the shopkeeper. Kayleigh could hear someone scrabbling around at the back. There was a stack of crisps in front of her.
‘Special Offer’, said the hand-written sign precariously perched on top.
It would be better to take one of those than something more expensive. Maybe some water too. Nothing fancy like one of those energy drinks that Ron was addicted to. They were more expensive and she had some morals. Swiftly, she slipped a bottle and packet into her rucksack just as she heard footsteps coming from the back of the shop. “The trick is to act normal,” Marlene always said. “Don’t run away or look scared. Ask them something.”
Kayleigh faced the newsagent woman fair and square in the face. “Have you got a copy of OK magazine?” She glanced looked at the shelf behind her. “I can’t see one.”
That was a lie. She hadn’t looked. But the newsagent woman, neat and tidy in her black cardigan and matching trousers, shook her head. “Sorry. All sold out.”
Lucky. She couldn’t have afforded it anyway. Picking up her rucksack, Kayleigh made her way to the door, gulping in the cold air with relief. She’d done it!
Hardly able to wait, she ran back to the library. It might be closed but it had a porch outside where she could shelter. Desperately she tore open the packet of crisps and rammed each one down her throat, hardly tasting them in her hunger. Then the bottle. Never had water tasted so good.
That was a bit better. Kayleigh sat, with her back to the library door, hugging her knees. The ground felt hard and cold. But at least it wasn’t a cell which was where she’d probably be right now if the policeman had caught up with her.
Kayleigh tried to keep warm with her thoughts. Poor Frankie. What was he doing right now? Watching television perhaps? That’s if they were allowed to do that. Or maybe trying to contact her. That was it. That’s what he’d be doing …
Gradually, she became aware of her head dropping with sleep. As she drifted off, she felt something wet brush her hand. Instantly, she woke with a jerk. Bloody hell. It was a dog.
If there was one thing Kayleigh was scared of, it was big dogs. Next door’s Alsatian had sunk its teeth into her thigh when she’d been a kid. She’d had to have a tetanus injection. Mum had promised not to split on the neighbours about the No Pet rule when the neighbour had given her a whole box of duty free fags.
“It’s you,” said a voice. “The kid from the library.”
Kayleigh looked up through her fringe. It was the old man. The one who had been doing his family tree.
“Don’t worry about Jack. He’s a good ’un.”
Both man and dog were looking at her closely. “Not got a home to go back to, then?”
She shook her head, eyes still warily on the dog.
He sniffed. “You can come back with me, if you like. Don’t worry. I won’t hurt you.”
Kayleigh hesitated. Never go off with strangers her mum had said once. But wasn’t that what her own mother did all the time? When Ron went, it would be someone else. That was the way it worked.
’Sides there was something about this old man that seemed all right. As for his dog, it seemed quite docile too. (Another word she’d learned from the thesaurus she’d borrowed from Mr Brown.) Maybe she could have a proper shower. And she was bursting for a pee.
“OK,” she said, getting up and slinging the rucksack over her shoulders. “Thanks.”
Chapter Nine
“I’m not going.” Alice poured herself a large glass of Chardonnay. In her nervousness she slopped some over the edge and watched, with a certain fascination, as it seeped into the walnut drinks table. At any other time, she would have rushed to mop it up before the table stained. But right now, she felt strangely wilful. “I’m not a child any more.”
“No one said you were.” Daniel closed his hand briefly over hers. His touch nearly made her drop the glass onto the sage-green carpet they had spent ages choosing when they’d first moved in. Briefly, she thought of Paul Black’s hand patting her back. She hadn’t minded that. Why? Was it because she was dirty?
There’d been a piece in one of her magazines the other month about a woman who could only have sex with a stranger. “There’s no emotion,” the interviewee had said in justification. “So I can’t get hurt.” Alice could understand that.
“That man,” she said, shuddering, “ruined my life. But do you know what made it worse? The fact that no one – not even Dad in the end – would believe me.”
Daniel, nursing his evening tumbler of whisky, stood by the French windows, his back to her as he gazed over the lawn with its wide border of blowsy roses mixed with oriental poppies. The tumbler, she observed irrelevantly, was part of a set which they’d been given as a wedding present. Five out of six had survived. Not bad for a long marriage. The thought that this simple glass had outlived the mild attraction that had brought them together in the first place, was sadly comical.
“I believe you,” he said, so softly that she barely heard him.
He did? Never had he come straight out and said that before. Yet the incident in the park, as she kept referring to it in her mind, appeared to have suddenly changed the ordinance points in their marriage. For Daniel as well as for her.
“Thank you,” she whispered, forcing herself to walk up next to him and slip her hand in his. Then she added, “I’m sorry I can’t be the wife you want.”
As he turned, she could see tears in his eyes. “We’ve been over this before, Alice.” Slowly, carefully, he stroked her hair.
Alice forced herself not to move away. It wasn’t that she didn’t care for him, she told herself. Of course she did. Wasn’t Daniel the father of her son?
Dammit. It was no good. His touch made her cringe. Furious with her
self, she stepped back. Away from the feel of his skin; gulping in the freedom of being a separate non-hand holding person once more. “I should have told you before. It was wrong of me.” She took another gulp of wine. “But I thought it would be all right. I thought that when we were married, I’d be able to put all that behind me …”
“Shhh, Shh.” He was holding her to him, now. Once more, Alice had to resist the urge to duck away. “It wouldn’t have made any difference. You’ve already told me this God knows how many times over the years.” His voice was weary as though he’d given up convincing himself. “I would still have married you, Alice.”
Her heart was pulsing so fast she could hardly get the words out. “So you don’t think I’m a slut or that it was my fault?”
“I’ve never said that. That’s just your own imagination. But I do wish you could learn to put it behind you. See it as the past.”
I can’t, she wanted to say. Don’t you see? It’s made me the person I am now. No. What was the point? Daniel didn’t get it. He never would. He might be an English lecturer but ironically, there were times when he lacked the imagination of his heroes.
“But,” he started to say. Then he paused and she held her breath. It was the kind of pause where you knew someone was going to add an important caveat. “But I won’t pretend,” he added heavily, “that I don’t yearn to have that … that other side of marriage too.”
Too late, Alice wished with all her heart that she hadn’t told him about the argument with her mother. Bugger Uncle Phil. May he rot in hell when he finally went. It was what he deserved.
“But we still,” said Daniel, valiantly ploughing on, “have Garth.”
Alice tried not to think of the months of effort that his conception had required. Every time, she’d had to force herself not to resist Daniel’s advances, knowing that if she did so, she might never have a child; someone who would always love her, no matter what. When the positive result had come through, she’d swiftly used her pregnancy as an excuse to curtail any more bedroom activity. Afterwards, she was ‘too tired’. When six months later, Daniel had demanded to know whether she was having an affair, she had finally told him the truth about Phil. He’d been, she recalled, shocked and hurt that she hadn’t told him before.
Since then, over the years, he had suggested counselling to ‘get it out’ of her head. On a couple of occasions, she had given in but it hadn’t done any good. No one could really understand what it had been like. Not unless they had been through it before themselves.
Eventually, Daniel stopped pushing her. Instead, he would give her a chaste kiss on the cheek at night. Sometimes, now, in the night, she would wake up and find him cuddling her from behind. Quickly, she would move away.
Indeed, there were days – weeks even – without thinking too much about what had happened. Then the smallest thing could melt that mental wall which she’d forced herself to erect. It might be the sweet smell of a certain aftershave when air kissing someone’s husband at a dinner party. Or a tune on the radio that had been popular at the time. Or a phrase. Be a good girl …
When that happened, she would walk. Or distract herself with a particularly challenging piece of chipped china. Perhaps ring Janice, to suggest a game of tennis so she could whip her demons over the net.
But now, Mum’s demand that she should see her ‘uncle’ on his deathbed, had resurrected the nightmare all over again.
“Don’t you think,” suggested Daniel, walking back towards the whisky bottle, “that it might be cathartic to see him. You could talk the whole thing through. You could make sure that …”
He stopped but Alice knew exactly what he had been going to say. “Make sure that I wasn’t making it up? You said you believed me, just now.”
Daniel’s hand shook on his glass. “I believe there may be other factors too. Your mother says …”
“MY MOTHER? You’ve been talking to my mother?”
“Only after you told me about Phil wanting to see you.”
Daniel put down his glass and tried to take her hands. She shook them off furiously but Daniel hung on. His grip almost hurt. “She told me, Alice. She told me about the other things before … before it happened. The tranquillisers during your A-level year because you were anxious about your exams. The diary she found at the bottom of your wardrobe.”
He drew breath for a second. “She said … she thought … they were just the wild imaginings of a teenager who was under pressure. It’s OK, Alice. Adolescent angst is natural. I see it all the time with the first years. But in your day, there wasn’t the help there is nowadays. But if it isn’t treated, it can lead to all sorts of problems. Fantasies even …”
Alice pulled away furiously. “I did not imagine what happened.”
“Maybe misinterpret then …”
“NO.” She could feel the anger burning up inside. “If that’s what you think, we might as well end our marriage right now.”
“End our marriage?” repeated Daniel unsteadily. “If that’s what you want, then I wouldn’t stand in your way.” He glanced around the sitting room with its pale blue and yellow chintz sofas and the nineteenth-century gilt mirror over the peacock-blue art deco fireplace that she had sourced from an architectural salvage yard shortly after moving in. “We’ll just divide all this, fair and square.”
He spoke as though he had already thought of this. If so, she wouldn’t blame him. What kind of man could put up with a sexless marriage for so long?
“But what about Garth?” Alice heard herself saying.
Daniel nodded. “Exactly. I’ve got a first year at the moment who’s about to drop out because her parents have just split up. And she’s not the first. Kids need parents, no matter how old those ‘kids’ are.” He shrugged. “Still, the decision is yours.”
His voice had a hard edge to it. “Give us a chance, Alice. Go and see this old man. Tell him what you have to. Hear his point of view too.”
“Forgive him you mean? Even though you and my mother don’t think there’s anything to forgive him for?”
“I’m not saying that.”
“Yes you are.”
Then, draining her own glass because – dammit – she needed the strength, Alice ran out into the hall, grabbed the dog lead from the coat hook, and whistled to Mungo, who came bounding out from the kitchen.
“Where are you going?” Daniel looked scared. Confused. Too late, she realised she’d ripped the cleverly wrapped Do Not Open seal around their marriage.
“Out for a walk.”
“What about dinner?”
She threw him a disappointed look. “It’s in the Aga. You can eat on your own. I’m not hungry.”
Thank God for Mungo. If it wasn’t for the excuse of having a dog, she would go crazy. But a dog permitted you to get out.
The very action of walking, she told herself as she rounded the bend and walked along the sea front, helped you to escape awkward conversations or arguments. The waves that pounded against the rocks allowed you to think of something else apart from the disappointment in Daniel’s eyes.
The wind blowing through the hair made her feel a bit closer to Garth. They might be miles apart but they were both breathing the same air, weren’t they?
Meanwhile, the clusters of teenagers on the beach, laughing merrily over their disposable barbecues, helped to convince her that that girl in the park would be all right. It was summer. Lots of kids chose to sleep outside. She’d probably had an argument with her mother just like Garth used to do before his gap years. But they’d have made up, like most families. Maybe she was back home right now. She could imagine it clearly. They’d be watching TV together or chatting. See? No need to worry.
“Good evening. How are you doing?”
Alice looked up in surprise. For a moment, she almost didn’t recognise him.
“Hi.”
Paul Black’s eyes locked with hers. Fleetingly, she expected him to accuse her of something. Then he smiled. Now he seemed more li
ke a friend whom she’d bumped into.
“I like evening walks too.”
“They’re the only time I feel like myself,” she heard herself say.
“I know what you mean.”
Almost immediately, they fell into a steady pace together, following Mungo who was haring along on a part of the beach that was allowed during summer months. “It’s why I always volunteer for evening duty.”
“Doesn’t your family mind?” The question flew out of her mouth before she could take it back.
“Actually, I don’t have one. Not any more.”
His voice was neutral and his eyes straight ahead.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to pry.”
“That’s all right.”
Desperately, she tried to get back onto surer ground. “Have you found the girl? I’ve been worried about her.”
She was about to add that she knew this was silly and that Kayleigh – such a coincidence that she really wanted to be a Victoria! – was probably safely at home. Then his voice cut in.
“No.”
“Oh.” Hope flew out of her like released air from a balloon. She’d never cared for the latter since extracting a deflated one from Garth’s mouth as a toddler at a children’s party. It could have been fatal …
There was an edge to Paul Black’s voice that suggested there was something else. “Has the boy been sentenced yet?”
She glanced sideways at him. His face looked more handsome from the side with its aquiline nose. Almost Roman-like. He bore himself well, rather like Russell Crowe in that Gladiator film. But his expression made her feel suddenly uneasy.
“There’s been a development,” he said.
Her heart quickened.
“There’s a formal letter on its way to you, which will explain.”
“Tell me,” she said urgently. “I need to know now.”
As she spoke, a woman whom she knew slightly from church walked past, giving a quick nod of recognition and curiously checking Paul’s uniform. Alice felt a flash of foreboding.
“The defendant has changed his plea. To Not Guilty.”
For a second, Alice didn’t take it in. Then the significance dawned. “He’s saying he didn’t do it?”