Don't Say a Word
Page 14
And examine their faces when the police came crashing in the next morning, fresh from catching Mick.
See their shock when the handcuffs came out before they’d had time to swallow the polythene-cased stash, their fear and frustration when the police seized the haul of wraps they’d planned to on-sell later that day. A sense of dawning realization when they heard that Mick had been arrested too? A look over at Chloe, wondering already if there’d been a betrayal?
They must have realized, when the full details came in. How they’d been brought down. Do I imagine it, or can I really see Chloe leaning over Mick’s bag the night before the raid, thinking she was alone? Almost spitting into it, then stopping herself. Chloe, full of vengeance. Chloe, finished biding her time. Chloe, catching up with us?
‘Are any of the others out?’ I ask Sarah.
There’s a clicking in the background, while she checks files. You’d think she’d have thought of that already.
‘No, none of the others,’ she tells me. ‘But they’re up for parole too. We’ll let you know if it changes.’
‘OK,’ I tell her. ‘Listen, Sarah – I need you to put in a word. The child protection people were round at the hostel, making ridiculous inquiries about Mick, suggesting Josh see him, and saying it might be best for Josh to live apart from me. Can you speak to them and say this is a special case, talk some sense into them?’
‘They’re the specialists in this one, Ms Sutton. They need to make their own assessment.’
‘You’re kidding me, right?’
‘I’m afraid not, Ms Sutton.’
‘I can’t believe this. With all you know about me!’
I think back to Chloe in that room with the suitcase. Poor, miserable Chloe. Did I do all this to her for nothing?
‘I know it’s frustrating, Ms Sutton, but we have to –’
‘Well, can you at least hurry up with finding us a stable place to live? Or giving us the all clear to go back where we were? Maybe with added security we could –’
‘You can’t go back there, Ms Sutton. It’s not safe.’
She’s right. Of course she is.
‘OK,’ I tell her.
‘I’ll be in touch as soon as I can,’ she says.
I hang up.
Josh looks up at me. The baby has ceased gurgling and is now looking peaceful, eyes closed. Shit, Josh hasn’t …! No, there we go – chest going up and down. Breathing.
‘Everything all right, Mum?’ he asks me.
I haven’t got any more lies for him today. Instead of answering, I just gesture for him to come and sit on the sofa with me. I sit him on my knee, like when he was little, and I loop my arms round in front of him for a cosy hug.
Lesley walks in. She sees the baby lying on the floor. Her thoughts are obviously the same as mine – we’ve both worried too much. She rushes over to it.
‘It’s fine,’ I tell her. ‘She’s sleeping.’
But Lesley is scooping up the baby. ‘She can’t lie down there. She needs her mummy!’ The baby wakes up and begins bawling. Poor Lesley – right instincts, wrong context.
Josh shifts from my knee. ‘Let me,’ he says to Lesley. But she is already whisking the baby out of the room, presumably to its mother. I hope she doesn’t cry when she sees it. I hope she recognizes that the baby is what will get her through whatever mess she’s in. Otherwise it’s a genuine case for Patricia.
While the crying baby is being transported upstairs, there’s a banging on the front door. I can almost hear the indecision in Lesley’s mind. Baby upstairs, or door downstairs? The baby seems to be winning – the crying grows more indistinct. The banging grows louder.
‘What do you think, Josh? Shall we answer it?’ I ask him.
He nods.
‘I’m not sure,’ I tell him. ‘What if it’s a battering husband, come to beat up his wife?’
Josh’s face crumples.
‘Oh, I’m sorry, poppet. I was joking!’ Stupid. I need to get out of this place. Be the right mum again.
My phone buzzes. Dan, says the caller ID.
I pick it up.
‘I’m outside,’ he says.
‘Is that you banging on the door? You’ll give the staff a heart attack. They’ll be calling the police on you.’
There’s a pause. ‘Right, sorry. Thoughtless. Well, not thoughtless, I was only thinking of you.’
While Dan rambles, I steer Josh along the corridor towards the front door.
Josh’s hand is on the latch when there’s a shout behind me.
‘Don’t open it!’
I turn, expecting it to be Lesley. But it’s not. It’s the mother and her baby. Behind her, Lesley is trying to soothe her, pull her back. But she won’t budge. ‘You mustn’t open it!’ Her eyes are wide, her face ashen – the bruises now show up in relief. Her hands are rigidly clutching the baby to her breast.
‘It’s fine,’ I tell her. ‘It’s my boyfriend. I promise you.’
I move my hand to join Josh’s on the latch.
Now it’s Lesley doing the shouting.
‘Jen, please, it’s a breach of protocol – don’t answer.’
This is all stupid. Because I know it’s Dan. And we’re safe with him. And both Josh and I need to see a familiar face right now. We need to not be here.
But I need to keep Lesley happy. Otherwise she’ll go talking to Patricia – erratic behaviour, no regard for safety, not fit to look after her son.
‘Fine,’ I say to Lesley.
I pull my hand away from the latch – and Josh’s hand too. He resists, looking up at me, wondering about my plan.
I move away from the door.
There’s a shuddering sigh of relief from upstairs. I can’t tell whether it’s from Lesley or baby mother.
‘Dan,’ I call out. ‘Stop knocking. Wait outside, for a few minutes.’
I turn round and face the women upstairs.
‘Lesley, once the baby and her mother are safely in their room, would you mind coming down and speaking to Dan outside, please? I swear to you he’s not abusive, and my son here would really like to see him.’
And so would I, I want to scream at her. I want to see Dan. I want to hold on to him and I want to cry. But that’s not such a good message for a place that’s meant to be herself-sufficient.
Lesley nods. ‘Thank you,’ she says. ‘Give me a moment.’
And so we stand, Josh and I, for a very long moment, holding hands in that doorway, waiting for Lesley.
Chapter 24
Lesley opens the door, on the chain.
Over her shoulder, through the gap, Josh and I peer out at Dan. He looks lovely. Clean. Sexy. Concerned. I want to touch him.
Dan takes one look at me and Josh and says, ‘Right, you’re coming with me.’
‘It’s not that simple, Dan. Come in,’ I say, over Lesley’s shoulder.
‘No, don’t come in,’ Lesley says. ‘I’m sorry, but it’s against the rules of the refuge. I can’t vouch for you so I can’t let you in.’
‘It’s fine,’ I tell her. ‘I work with him. He’s safe. He just wants to chat.’
‘I really can’t,’ she says. ‘It’s a women-only premises – no men unless they’re police.’
‘He’s a criminal barrister. Can you stretch a point? He’s probably put a whole load of these abusers in jail!’
‘I work to defend people, but …’
I shoot Dan a look. Now is not the time for pedantry.
Lesley smiles. ‘I’m sorry. I’d love to. But those are our rules. The other women need to feel safe here too.’
So Dan stands on one side of the door, and I stand on the other with Josh.
Lesley hovers in the hallway, her finger by the panic button.
‘You’ve got to get out of here,’ whispers Dan.
‘I know,’ I tell him. ‘But there’s nowhere else for us to go. We can’t go home, and they haven’t found anywhere else for us.’
‘They?’
I pause. Much as I would love to tell him everything – well, almost everything – that would be a total breach of the witness protection scheme. They’d withdraw their protection. Such as it is.
‘Oh, you know – the police, my minders, that “they”. But anyway, we’re stuck here.’
‘Come and stay with me!’ Dan says.
I stand back a bit. ‘Dan, that’s sweet of you, but …’
‘No, I mean it. Come and stay. Just a temporary measure while you get something sorted out. Why not with me, rather than here?’
‘Come on, Mum, let’s!’ Josh pleads. I look at his face. His eyes are red-rimmed, accented by dark shadows. His cheeks are pale. I turn back to Dan.
‘You haven’t been designated safe. You might be anyone – they’ll say.’
But even as I say it, I wonder. It would be so easy for them to say he’s clean, wouldn’t it? The guy is a barrister; he’s squeaky clean. And it’s such a tempting prospect.
‘Call them if you think you have to – or don’t,’ he tells me. ‘He’s your son; you can do what you want.’
I shake my head. ‘It’s complicated. I can’t just run off with Josh.’
‘Do you want me to speak to them?’ he asks. ‘I can vouch for me; I know my background and what I’m about. And right now, that’s you.’
‘No. Listen, Dan, it won’t work, it …’
From upstairs, the baby starts crying again.
Lesley tuts from behind us, like it’s our fault. There’s grown-up crying too.
‘I’ll have to ask you to leave,’ Lesley tells Dan. ‘I’m sorry, I know it’s difficult.’
And she moves to close the door on Dan. I try to reach out to him, but it’s too late, and the gap is too small.
‘I’ll just be out here. Speak to whoever you need to speak to!’ he calls, as the door closes in his face.
I feel my insides close down too. For a few minutes, there was hope.
Lesley gives my arm a quick, ‘comforting’ squeeze.
‘I know it’s hard, love, but how could I trust him?’ she asks me. ‘He’s a stranger.’
‘Sometimes you just have to trust people,’ I tell her (and myself, at the same time). ‘Not all men are bastards.’
She gives me a sad smile. ‘I’ve seen too many wrecked lives to believe that, love. I’m sorry.’ She nods up the stairs to the crying room. ‘Case in point. Do you mind if I …?’
I shake my head. ‘Of course. Go.’
Lesley runs up the stairs. It’s essential work she does. But it’s not for us.
I turn to Josh. ‘Well, then,’ I say.
‘We have to go and stay with Dan,’ he tells me.
‘We do?’ I ask him.
‘Well, we can’t stay here,’ he says, eyes wide, wet.
‘But we hardly know him. And they won’t let us,’ I tell him. Lesley’s words about trust ring in my ears.
‘Dan was right,’ he says. ‘It’s our life. And we’d be in –’ he mimics Patricia’s voice ‘– a stable, secure environment with a male role model.’
I smile and ruffle his hair.
My child stays with me. And the way to secure that is Dan. Lesley has seen so many horrors – of course she is going to be biased against men. But Dan is Dan.
I pick up the phone to Sarah and explain the situation.
‘Listen, my work colleague has called by the hostel. Criminal barrister, Daniel Farley. He says we can go and stay with him while you find us somewhere.’
‘Ms Sutton, I can’t possibly authorize –’
‘Oh come on, think about it. He’s fine, he’s safe, he wants to help. There’ll be a man there to defend us against anyone who shows up – and they shouldn’t, they’re still in prison. We’re good to go. You can pull me out later if you need to.’
‘You really ought to move to an entirely different area, new set-up …’
‘But come on, how long will that take you? And we’d have to start all over again. There’s no need. It’s fine.’
‘Ms Sutton, an unknown person threatened to abduct your child.’
A chill spreads through me. She’s right, of course. We’re going to have to begin again.
‘Just for a stopgap, then,’ I tell her, my voice flat. ‘Until you find us somewhere proper.’
Somewhere proper … It sounds so good. But I know what it means. It means some new shitty neighbourhood, where I have to learn again which streets are safe, which aren’t. A new school for Josh, where he won’t have Chris and his Lego trains. A new shitty flat that I have to pester and pester for them to fix and redecorate before doing it myself. A new job? If I’m lucky. If not, sitting around all day biting my nails.
Sarah isn’t saying anything. Maybe she’s relenting. ‘It won’t be for long,’ I tell her. ‘And Josh wants us to.’
I look at my watch. 1 p.m. on a Saturday. She can’t want to be on work calls all afternoon.
‘Please,’ I say. I let my voice crack a little bit, but give a ‘wait for it’ gesture to Josh, to show there’s still hope.
‘OK, then,’ says Sarah.
I mouth ‘yes!’ and give Josh the thumbs-up. He begins dancing round the room.
‘That’s great, Sarah. Thank you so much.’
‘It’s fine. But look – a temporary measure. And if anything is odd, or you suspect anything, you get out, and you give us a call. OK?’
‘Sure,’ I say. But I’m not really listening. Because we’re free again. I beat the red tape.
Once outside, Josh and I give Dan a big hug. We can’t stop ourselves. Feeling Dan’s strong frame against me, I’d like to cling on to him for ever. But Lesley is behind us, looking on, reminding us we are attracting attention to the women left inside. That we may trust Dan, but she doesn’t have to.
So I peel myself and Josh off Dan, and we walk to Dan’s car. And we’re away, the three of us. We can keep our lives. At least for a while.
Chapter 25
Dan’s flat is an ode to justice.
Walking in, you’re greeted by a poster of Paul Newman in The Verdict.
Go down the hall, and in an alcove there’s a set of those antique-looking measuring scales (I’m assuming to weigh justice, not opium or heroin).
In the living room, an inflatable Statue of Liberty skulks behind the sofa. If the witness protection squad wanted proof this is a good guy, they need look no further.
And it is also nice. Homely. Cosy. Red sofas, red curtains, large cream rugs on the hardwood floors. Newspapers tucked away in a corner. The odd film print on the walls. A four-seater table in the dining area. So: a bachelor pad with hopes of more.
‘Now, let’s get your digs sorted, Josh!’ Dan says in a ‘men together’, buoyant tone. ‘You’ll be through here in the study-cum-guest room.’
We follow him. I’m expecting a rumpled futon surrounded by stacks of paper. But no. It’s a gorgeous little den. A single sleigh bed along one wall (I guess it also serves as a day bed if Dan is working too hard). A dark wood and green leather desk on the other wall, with one of those old-fashioned green desk lamps on it, softly lit. Papers piled up neatly on it. Not how my desk would look.
‘I do most of my work at Chambers,’ Dan explains. ‘This is the overflow suite!’
‘It’s cool,’ Josh says.
I can see him eyeing up the sheepskin rug on the floor. After the hostel, it gives a sense of luxury. Of home.
‘Think you’ll be happy here, Josh?’ I ask. He nods his head.
‘It’s only for a short while, of course,’ I tell Dan.
Dan opens his hands wide.
‘Stay as long as you like,’ he says. ‘Josh, why don’t you unpack your stuff? There are some drawers here, and a bookshelf you can use.’ He gestures behind the door. I see Josh’s face light up at the Star Wars poster above the shelf.
He nods happily. Dan and I slip out of the room wh
ile Josh begins happily unpacking his overnight bag.
‘You’re a legend,’ I tell Dan. ‘Really, truly. Thank you so much.’
Dan shrugs.
‘Anyone would do the same,’ he says.
‘No, they wouldn’t, Dan,’ I tell him. ‘Believe me, I know – no one ever offered me shelter when I was on the streets. Not once.’
But that’s not true is it? Mick. Mick offered me shelter. I took it at face value. I was so desperate. So grateful. So innocent.
I shudder. There’s no similarity here. Dan is a good guy.
‘So, where are my digs, then?’ I ask. It comes out more coquettish than I mean it to.
‘Ah, well, for you, even better than the spare room slash study, is the spare room slash spare room!’
Phew. I was worried we might have to play the ‘would you like the floor or the sofa’ game. Fun though the results of that might be, now is probably not the right time. He leads me into the room across from Josh’s and flicks on a switch.
This one has a double. But again, a lovely cosy world in its own right. I wish I’d be shown into somewhere like this by just one of those foster families. It’s a straightforward divan bed, but with a pretty patchwork bedspread on it. The fabric matches the curtains, giving the room a cottagey feel. There’s a tasteful cream and pine wardrobe, dressing table, and bedside lamp.
‘Dan, tell me something,’ I ask him. ‘Did your ex furnish this place?’
He pauses; his eyes mist over. Shit. But then he speaks. ‘Yep, it’s pretty much all done out like this because of my ex. So long ago now, but I wouldn’t have started on all this without her!’
‘Explains a lot,’ I say, looking around.
‘More than you’d know,’ he says. ‘I tried to move on, but then you realize maybe you haven’t. Maybe you’re still bound to them. Her memory is fading a bit, to be honest. More than I’d expected it to.’ His eyes mist again. ‘Sometimes you get really torn, you know? And with what’s happened to you, I just, I wonder if I really owe –’
I put a hand on his arm. ‘Hey, what’s up?’
‘It’s nothing, I just – what you’ve been through, all of it, if that was Mick, then … Well, it’s a shitty thing to do. However shitty you were to him.’