by Jane Bidder
“What kind of car was it?”
“What?” They both spoke in unison, turning to her.
Kayleigh’s voice was calm. “You said you saw a car when you was upstairs. What kind of car was it?”
“Some beaten-up piece of rubbish,” said Daniel, tightly in a what-the-fuck-does-it-matter voice.
She nodded. “I reckon that belongs to Frankie’s mate. They killed my friend Marlene too.”
“Killed her?” Alice stared at the girl.
There was a vigorous nodding of the head. “They gave her an overdose. She’s dead. Mum said so before she got me put into care with these weirdos. The bloke hurt his wife – well I think he did – and kept looking at me like he might touch me up. He took me to court this morning but then Frankie’s lot sent me a picture of my mum and I thought they’d beaten her up. It’s OK. They hadn’t – they’d done stuff to the photograph to make it look bad like they’d thrown acid at her – but I was too scared to go back to court in case they hurt me. Now I don’t know where to go.”
The girl’s words came out like a torrent with barely a breath in between, as though she’d been bottling it all up. Alice’s head was beginning to spin. Acid attack … abusive foster parents … friend dead from an overdose … It was too much to take in. But one thing at least was clear.
“She must stay here, mustn’t she, Daniel?”
“Are you joking?” Daniel let out a hoarse laugh. “If these people think we’re looking after a girl who could put them in prison, they’ll do something far worse than poison the dog.”
“Like tell the world we don’t have sex, you mean?”
The words flew out of her mouth, regardless of Kayleigh’s presence.
Daniel eyed her as though she was nuts. “What are you talking about?”
“Don’t try that on me.” Alice felt fury burning through her like a great rage. It made her throat feel sore. “You told the other side that we didn’t have sex. The lawyer stood up and said that I … I was messed up and frustrated and that I imagined the whole thing taking place in the park. And they knew about Phil. They brought him up too, making me out to be some teenage fantasist …”
Her voice tailed away. Either her husband was a very good actor – like Paul Black – or else he really was shocked. “Alice,” he began to say. “I didn’t …”
He stopped as the phone broke the silence from the hall table, chirping brightly. “Leave it,” croaked Daniel. “I haven’t finished.”
Too late, Alice wished she’d listened to him. Not Mum. Not now. Purposefully, she hadn’t told her about the court case. She certainly wouldn’t have approved of Alice’s involvement; in fact, she’d have somehow turned it round so it was all her fault in her first place.
“Alice?” Her mother’s voice boomed imperiously down the line. “I thought you ought to know that Uncle Phil is on the mend, dear. Amazing, isn’t it? Something must have brought him back from the dead. Perhaps it was your visit. No. Don’t say anything. He told me you’d finally apologised. Perhaps now you’ve learned your lesson. Have you any idea what damage you caused over the years?”
“What?”
“Don’t try to pretend, dear. We’ve all had enough of your stories. By the way, how did your court case go?”
That was it. That really was it.
“Who was that?” Daniel’s face was apprehensive as she slammed down the phone.
“Mum.” Alice looked from Kayleigh to Daniel and to Garth’s picture on the wall and then back to Daniel again. Despite her earlier thoughts, she could see now that she needed her husband for stability. Everything that had happened in the last few weeks – their son, her court case and now Mungo – had thrown life into perspective. Thank God it hadn’t been Daniel after all who had told the world about their sex life.
Otherwise she couldn’t have stayed.
“What did she want?” Daniel, who knew her all too well, could tell something was up. Something else to throw into this equation of wild turmoil.
“Just a chat.” There was no way she could talk about it now. Uncle Phil and his games belonged to another time. Not now. Not with Mungo ill and Garth in prison.
“Ta ra, then.”
The girl’s voice startled her. The child had a way of staying so silent you forgot she was there.
“No. Stay.”
“You can’t do this!” Daniel’s voice was outraged. “She’s in care. It’s illegal and …”
The girl cut in. “I’m sixteen tomorrow. I can do what I want. ” She looked around. “I wouldn’t mind staying here for a bit. But only if it’s not too much trouble.”
Alice looked at Daniel. The thing about being married for years, she suddenly realised, was that you didn’t always need to talk. You just knew. Maybe she shouldn’t take that for granted any more. Please, said her look. Please don’t throw Kayleigh out. She could be Garth, desperately needing a stranger’s help. And if you do make her leave, she could be hurt like her friend and Mungo.
He held her plea for what seemed like several minutes. Then he turned, his back disapproving. “Do what you want,” he said, sharply. “Isn’t that what you usually do?”
Then he headed for his study, clicking the door quietly behind him. Alice would have preferred it if he’d slammed it. There was a low murmur on the other side. He was using the phone. Maybe ringing Brian to see if there was any news on Garth. Or perhaps calling the vet.
Alice’s nails dug into the palm of her hand. There was a noise from beside her. Once more, she was taken by the girl’s silent presence. “Shall I put the kettle on?” Kayleigh said. “My mum says she can always think better when she’s having a cuppa.” Then she added “Or a fag.”
Alice felt her mouth twitching despite herself. “Well I don’t smoke. So it had better be tea.” She remembered her manners. It was soothing to do so; it helped to distract her from the uncertainty around her. “Please. Sit down.” She flung open a kitchen cupboard. “What would you like? Lapsang? Earl Grey? Darjeeling?”
The girl’s eyes flickered from one packet to another. “Just tea, ta.”
“Do you take sugar?” asked Alice.
Kayleigh’s eyes widened as though it was a daft question. “’Course. Three, ta.” She patted her skinny waist. “I’m trying to cut down.”
“Really?” Alice felt a flicker of alarm, remembering how she had come very close to anorexia after Uncle Phil. Relief that Daniel hadn’t betrayed her and that he was still here almost made her feel high. Slightly manic, in fact. Over-keen, perhaps, to make their visitor feel welcome after her husband’s cool reception.
“I think you look great as you are. In fact, you could do with putting on a bit more weight. By the way, I do hope you don’t think I’m interfering but I’ve got a brilliant hairdresser. Would you like your hair cut into a bob?” She gave Kayleigh what she hoped was a reassuring smile. “I think it would suit you.”
Looking after Kayleigh helped to distract Alice from both Garth and the empty dog basket, in a way that her broken china could no longer do. The latter gave her too much time to think. But the whirlwind left in the girl’s wake refused to allow Alice to dwell on Mungo who was still ‘poorly’ in the veterinary hospital or her son who was ‘bearing up under the circumstances’ according to Brian.
Her new ‘guest’ either needed something (how does that posh shower work in my bathroom?) or constantly offered to help ( let me wash up – it’s cheaper than using a dishwasher) or simply wanted to chat. It turned out Kayleigh had already read the thriller they were doing at Book Club. “Got it from the library. They look out stuff like that for me.”
Silently, Alice reproached herself for feeling surprised. Why shouldn’t a girl from the council estate with matted red-gold hair (she’d turned down the offer of her hairdresser, much to Alice’s disappointment) and a bluebird tattoo on her shoulder, be well-read? “ You’re too judgmental, Mum”. Wasn’t that what Garth was always saying?
Garth, Garth. Be safe. Please.
Alice didn’t need Daniel to tell her that she’d taken in Kayleigh because she could help the girl in a way that she couldn’t help her own son.
Meanwhile, the stories that were coming out of Kayleigh’s mouth were riveting in their horror and other-worldliness. There was a half-brother who was Inside for cannabis dealing, whom she clearly hero-worshipped. Alice decided she’d keep that one from Daniel. Then there was a teacher called Mr Brown who had said she was clever enough to go to uni one day. Was that the same teacher who had stood up in court and declared Kayleigh to be a fantasist? If so, she’d keep that one back too.
But despite this, the uncertainties still kept tormenting Alice, reminding her of a seaside amusement arcade that her parents had once taken her to as a child. You had to stand in front of a table with holes in it, holding a hammer. Every few seconds, a toy worm would pop out of one of the holes and you had to hit it to make it go down again.
Even at the age of nine or so, Alice had thought this was a bit like bashing the bad thoughts that came into your head; like whether Mum and Dad might get divorced after the last argument or whether she might not be selected for the school netball team.
Now, as she ran around after Kayleigh (yes, please, do help yourself to whatever you want from the fridge), she was, at the same time, mentally hitting down the worms popping up from the table. Brian, who was still waiting to hear from the ‘other side’ after Sheila Harrison’s statement. Uncle Phil, who was now out of hospital; back in his nursing home; and ‘his usual self again’. Daniel who had started going back to the university every day even though term didn’t start for another month. Her mother, whose idea of support was to ask her vicar to pray for her grandson’s ‘safe delivery’ and continue to talk about ‘how wonderful’ it was that Uncle Phil had made such a miraculous recovery. And Mungo, who would be here now if it hadn’t been for her witness statement.
Then of course, there were her friends. “What did they mean in court about that man you accused as a teenager?” Janice had asked curiously.
“I can’t talk about it,” Alice had retorted. “It’s private.”
Her friend had looked hurt but it was true. She couldn’t talk about it. Not yet, at any rate. But she needed to find out who had told the defence lawyer about the lack of sex in their marriage. It meant speaking to her lawyer … how embarrassing. Still, it had to be done.
Reaching for her phone, it began to ring on its own accord. ‘Alice....’ “Alice Honeybun?”
The voice was pleasant. But not like anyone she knew. “Who is this?”
“Hi! I’m Lisa from the features desk of Charisma magazine. The local news agency has just passed us your very moving story. Poor you! Listen, we wondered if you were interested in being interviewed for a piece on how child abuse can wreck your adult love life …”
Click. Alice cut her off in mid-sentence. Was this was it was going to be like from now on? A never-ending intrusion into her private life because she’d tried to help someone else? A witness. That’s all she’d promised to be.
But now she’d become the victim.
Carry on. It was the only option, Alice decided. At least until Garth returned. Despite everything, she had to keep life going so it was normal when he returned.
‘When’. Not ‘if’. The alternative was unthinkable.
Meanwhile, she could at least help Kayleigh in a way that any decent person would help her own child. And if that meant taking her in, despite Daniel’s deep disapproval, so be it. As for the invasion into her own life, that damage had already been done. She’d just have to deal with it.
The girl from the park, as Alice privately called her in her head, had been with them now for two days. Yesterday, she had made her a Victoria sponge which Daniel had reluctantly watched her cut. “No one’s ever made me a birthday cake before,” Kayleigh had said, disbelievingly. Today, she was teaching the girl how to make a quiche in the Aga when Paul Black called round. Did he always turn up unannounced, wondered Alice as she opened the door. It was really rather rude. Then again, perhaps that’s what policemen did to catch people on the hop.
“Sorry to arrive without an appointment,” he said, as if reading her mind. “But I was passing and wanted to make sure you were all right.”
His clear blue eyes were fixed on hers just like they’d been from the beginning. Did he do that to others too? If so, it was a clever trick. It made you feel like you were the only person he was interested in talking to. For God’s sake, Alice, what are you thinking? Say something. Don’t just stand there like a moron, on the doorstep.
“Those things that were said in court,” he continued. “They were cruel.”
She gripped the tea cloth she was holding. “But you’re still not going to tell me who said them?”
He had the grace to look abashed. “You know I can’t.”
“It was cruel.” She faced him fair and square, wanting him to squirm. To know what she was feeling inside. “Cruel but true.”
Good. He looked shocked. “True?” he repeated.
“Not all of it. I’m not a fantasist when it comes to sex. But it is correct that my husband and I haven’t had … haven’t had that kind of relationship for years. And I did accuse someone of something when I was a teenager. But I’m not sorry and no, I don’t want to discuss it.”
“I respect that.”
Really? Somehow she’d expected those piercing blue eyes to challenge her. “I also came round to see about your dog. I’m so sorry.”
“Do you know everything about our lives?”
“Your husband reported it. It’s on your files along with … with everything else.”
“You sound like a lawyer.”
He looked away. “Actually, I used to be one.”
“Who’s the fantasist now?”
“Alice.” He looked as though he was going to take her hand but then stopped. “You’re upset and understandably so. You’re not yourself …”
“How dare you? How do you know what I’m really like?”
His eyes held hers. “Because I’ve seen this before. I’ve met other Alices. Not just young girls but women. Older than you. Younger too. Women whose lives have been tarnished by someone who hurt them. Brave women, like you. I can help, Alice, if you let me …”
Phil’s silky words slipped into her head. Help you. Let me help you, dear …
‘No. NO. I’ll sort myself out. And don’t, for one minute, think I believe your story about coming round to check on my dog. You’re just feeling guilty because you said you’d protect me if I testified.”
He looked alarmed. “No one’s hurt you, have they?”
She laughed. “Not physically. Only mentally.”
The flush on his cheeks grew. Deservedly so. Alice began to feel anger; not a fury that she had felt towards her husband earlier but a slow burning resentment. What had got into her? Until all this happened, she’d never been an angry person.
“We try to look after our witnesses.” His voice shook slightly. “But there are times when … when it’s not easy.”
“I trusted you.” Tears began to wet her eyes. “I believed you when you said it was important for me to give that statement.”
“It was …”
She ignored him, rushing on. “But now I don’t feel safe in my own home. Yes I know this Frankie got ten years but he’s still got friends out there, hasn’t he? Kayleigh says …”
Alice stopped.
Too late.
Paul Black’s eyes had turned from empathy to suspicion. “You’re in touch with Kayleigh?” Instantly he turned from confidante to policeman again. “If you know where she is, you must tell me.”
Alice’s hand began to sweat on the door. How could she betray the girl? Yet at the same time, she had to comply with the law. Was it possible she had broken it, unwittingly, by taking in Kayleigh?
“You’d better come in,” she said, aware, too late, that she sounded ungracious. Then, prompted by an innate courtesy, she added. “Woul
d you like a cup of tea?”
He followed her in, admiring (she could see) the walnut hall table with its silver-framed photograph of Garth on his christening day. “Any news on your son?” he asked with exactly the right tone of empathy mixed with professionalism.
He’s good at his job, thought Alice. He shows empathy to get what he wants. Or maybe he’s simply a decent human being. Why couldn’t she tell the difference?.
“Yes. We have a witness.” She took down two Emma Bridgewater mugs from the big old pine Welsh dresser which she and Daniel had bought on their honeymoon in Somerset; a time when they had both still hoped for other things. “Someone who saw someone else slipping drugs into his rucksack at Lima airport. She’s made a statement and is prepared, apparently, to stand up in court. Just like I did.”
Horrified, Alice heard herself laugh. Hysterically. There was the sound of a smash. One of the mugs lay in bits around her feet. This time it was an accident – it had just slipped through her fingers – but she could see, just from looking, that it would take a great deal of time and patience to repair.
“That’s what I do!” The laughter came out even more hysterically in great splutters like a silly schoolgirl. “I mend china but I can’t mend the cracks in my own life.”
Someone was putting a pair of arms around her. It couldn’t be Paul Black because policemen weren’t allowed to do that kind of thing. But the arms had a stiff serge feel to them. Maybe it was her imagination again. That cursed imagination which was both her refuge and her chain.
“You’ve been through a lot. It’s understandable if you’re upset.”
Then the arms were gone. In their place was an empty vacuum. I didn’t flinch, Alice realised with amazement. I didn’t flinch. I didn’t flinch, she told herself.
“I’m sorry.” Paul Black’s blue eyes weren’t locked on hers now. They were focussed on the floor. “I shouldn’t have done that. It was unprofessional.”
Did that mean he cared? Or that he was sorry he’d touched her? Confused, she clutched the surviving mug in her right hand, willing him to lift his eyes to hers. “I’m glad you did. It was … it was comforting.”