Don't You Dare

by A J Waines

  ‘About the girl who was killed…’

  ‘Tracy Limehouse. She was a friend of mine. A good friend.’

  ‘Really?’

  I try to imagine the scene. That terrible moment when Mum realised that her dear friend had been run over by Grandad, her own father.

  ‘He was the driver, wasn’t he? Grandad was the one who hit Tracy, by accident, outside the pub in Southampton…’

  Mum’s face creases with confusion.

  ‘No. That’s not what happened.’

  ‘That wasn’t it? I don’t understand.’

  ‘It wasn’t Adrian.’

  We’re interrupted by the phone – Kate calling for Mum – so the matter is left up in the air. After that, Mum has to rush off for her early shift at the pub.

  Later, after she’s taken a bath and is settled on the sofa with the newspaper, I ask a different question.

  ‘There’s one thing that has bugged me all along,’ I say. ‘I know you didn’t mean to kill Carl. You didn’t know all the facts, you didn’t know I was in the cellar out of choice. But covering up the crime…it still seems so extreme. How come you were so fast to hide what we’d done?’

  She leans back, her face set in an expression of resignation, but she doesn’t say a word.

  ‘You were so quick to plan everything. So quick to suggest we hide Carl’s body and get rid of all the evidence. I can’t believe it was just fear about Peter finding out about the affair… or about my reputation.’ I slide towards her, force her to look at me. ‘What was it really about?’

  Mum folds the paper and sets it down on the arm.

  I carry on. ‘Amelia will have questions for the rest of her life about why and how. So will her boys. They’ll never see anyone brought to justice. Why was it so imperative that we hid Carl’s death?’

  ‘Okay, listen.’ She wraps my hand in hers, something she’s done every day since the rescue. ‘But, you might not like what you have to hear.’

  ‘I’m ready,’ I insist. ‘I need to know.’

  ‘When I was fifteen, I went to a party. Vera and Adrian knew there’d be alcohol and said I was too young to be there, but a friend of mine was going and she was eighteen. She said she’d look out for me, but she turned up late. Tracy Limehouse.’

  I stay perfectly still.

  ‘The party was held near The Hope and Anchor. We lived in Southampton then. The place was jam-packed with people – a boy called Ben Kirby—’

  ‘Yeah, I know. It was his eighteenth,’ I cut across her.

  She sighs. ‘He wasn’t a nice boy. I didn’t know it was his party and wouldn’t have gone if I had. He was a horrible ring-leader with a gang who used to beat up kids at our school. He used to sell drugs and the rumour was he always carried a knife tucked inside his sock.’

  She lowers a clenched hand.

  ‘Well…I was on my own, feeling lost, waiting for Tracy and everyone was loud and drunk, passing out on the stairs. Ben was hyped up and strutting about the place. He started chatting me up. I walked away. He came after me, trying to touch me, being vulgar and sleazy, so I stormed out the front door. Groups were out on the streets by then, hanging around the pub car-park.

  ‘Ben wouldn’t leave me alone. A few of his friends were egging him on and three of them grabbed me and bundled me into a ramshackle outhouse in the corner of the car-park. They shut me in there with him. I screamed and tried to get out, but there was so much racket going on and so many people having a good time that no one came to….’

  Her voice trails off. She closes her eyes. When she opens them, she can’t bring herself to look at me.

  ‘What happened? Can you tell me?’ I ask.

  She lifts my hand and rests it against her cheek. ‘It will change everything, Beth – are you sure you want to know?’

  ‘Yes. You’ve got to tell me…’

  ‘He pushed me over an old barrel of beer and raped me.’

  The words pierce my heart like pointed arrows. ‘No…Mum…’

  ‘When he’d finished, he turned to leave and I grabbed a chunk of brick from a pile by my feet. I was so angry and distraught that I hadn’t been able to stop him. I swung it at his head, but he ducked away and ran outside. I dashed after him, still holding the lump of brick and I flung it with all my might at the back of his head. But he darted out of the way, near the edge of the pavement. And suddenly…there was Tracy…a big smile on her face, because she’d found me.’

  Her chin quivers, her voice trembling.

  ‘The brick hit the side of her head and she staggered backwards. It happened so fast. One minute she was smiling…the next there was a terrible thud. She was lifted up, her body tossed against the windscreen, then she slipped off and the car went straight over her.’ Her face crumples and I pull her close, rock her gently. ‘When I got to her she was lying all twisted in the road.’

  ‘That’s terrible…you must…’ I can’t find the words.

  ‘I was raped. And my friend died, because of how I reacted…all in the space of ten minutes…it was just…’

  ‘It wasn’t your fault.’

  ‘You thought your father was a cute boyfriend…well, it’s not how things were at all. He was a rapist, a thug, a brute.’ She spits the words out.

  The truth is slowly dripping into my brain. My father. The sweet boy she knew at school. It was all a lie. I wasn’t born of innocent young love, I was the result of a savage attack.

  Tears flood into my eyes and career down my cheek.

  My beginnings in this world were formed during a brutal assault.

  She lets go of my hand and cups my face in hers. Resting her thumbs gently under my eyes, she smooths away my tears, but new ones take their place.

  ‘What happened?’ I mutter, snivelling.

  ‘I’ve never seen a group of people disappear so fast,’ she says. ‘The ambulance came, and the police, but no one wanted to get involved. Lots of the boys had been in trouble with the law and didn’t want to come forward with information. No one mentioned me. Ben ran with the rest.’

  ‘And you? Did you go to her? Did you tell the police what happened?’

  ‘No...’ Shame crushes her features. ‘I ran, just like the others.’

  She swallows and stares at her knees.

  ‘I’d cut my hand on the edge of the brick. When I looked down after I’d thrown it, there was blood on my fingers. I knew enough about evidence to know my DNA would be all over it. If I’d gone to the police station, they’d have linked the brick to me and I would have had to tell them the rest. I just couldn’t bear it. So I bolted.’

  I stay quiet, trying to figure out whether I would have done things differently at such a young age.

  ‘To be the one who caused the accident,’ she continues. ‘Can you imagine? I was totally traumatised. I didn’t want anyone to know what he’d done to me, either. I was so ashamed and scared. The last thing I wanted was to sit down with the police and have to explain myself. I didn’t want anyone to touch me, no examinations. I’d been interfered with enough. Can you understand? I was only fifteen.’

  ‘Yes. Yes, of course, I understand.’ I reach over and squeeze her knee. ‘It must have been horrendous.’

  ‘All that pain I caused Tracy’s family.’

  ‘You’ve carried that with you all these years,’ I whisper.

  ‘You were the only good thing to come out of it. Nine months later…’

  ‘Did you tell Vera?’

  ‘She was the only one who knew the truth. About Tracy and the rape. She kept my secrets. But, when I found out I was pregnant and insisted on an abortion, Vera wouldn’t hear of it. Like I told you, she’d lost too many children herself to see another one die, even though the circumstances had been so repulsive. Thank God I didn’t go against her.’ She looks into my face with the glimmer of a smile. ‘I was so blessed. You turned out to be an unexpected gift after so much hurt.’

  I get to my feet, needing to move, to stretch my legs, to take a few mom
ents to let this new configuration of my past sink in.

  ‘And that leads us to you and Carl,’ she says, vehemence in her voice. ‘When I went down to the cellar that night, it was like a terrifying flashback, like I was reliving the nightmare. A stranger holding you down, the naked flesh, you crying out…it all came back and I didn’t hesitate. I had to stop it.’

  I snatch a breath. ‘Of course…’

  ‘That’s not all. I knew as soon as Carl was dead that we couldn’t report it. My DNA from the brick in 1992 would have been recorded as part of that crime scene, back then. The police didn’t have a match at the time, but it would still be on the database. If we’d explained to the police what happened in the cellar and they took all the necessary swabs from us, there would be a match for me. One accidental death is unfortunate. Two starts to look very suspicious, especially when I hadn’t come forward the first time. I was certain I’d go to prison. I couldn’t take the risk. And it would have ruined everything for you.’

  At last, it all makes sense.

  She glances down. ‘I didn’t know Vera had kept the clippings.’

  ‘Did Grandad know?’

  ‘No. Adrian knew there was something about that night that had upset me and then you came along nine months later, so I’m sure he had his suspicions, but Vera never told him. No one else knew.’

  ‘The secret she took to her grave,’ I whisper. ‘Grandad said just that.’

  She nods with a sad smile.

  ‘It would have destroyed him and he might even have killed Ben Kirby with his own hands, if he’d found out. We all wanted you to think your father was a lovely boy I’d fallen in love with at school. I never wanted you to know any of this.’

  I feel like I’ve been inside a washing machine – been spun around, agitated and pummelled, then flung back out into the outside world again.

  ‘Wow…it’s a lot to take in…’

  ‘That’s an understatement. Are you okay? After everything…’

  I stop her. ‘Yes…I’ll be fine.’ I’m sure I will be, given a little time. ‘Everything slots into place now.’

  ‘No more secrets?’ she says.

  ‘No, thank you!’ I say with a smile.

  I’ve grown up fast in the past few weeks. It’s going to take some adjusting to, but coping with this is the least of my worries. Now I can finally move on to the next stage of my life. It’s not going to be easy, but perhaps now’s the time to break it to her.

  ‘I wanted to tell you something important, too,’ I say.

  She senses the gravity in my voice and jerks round to face me.

  ‘I’ve been looking into the idea of going to a refugee camp. To help out. A few months, maybe, in Northern Greece. Somewhere I can make a difference.’

  Her jaw drops and she doesn’t speak for ages.

  ‘That’s very noble,’ she finally manages, her voice trembling.

  ‘Being stranded in the sea like that. It made me think. All those refugees who’re desperate to escape. They start out in boats that are either too full or not sea worthy and end up in the ocean fighting for their lives. It’s just not right.’

  She nods. ‘I know.’

  ‘If we’re not going to turn ourselves in for what we did to Carl, then it only seems fair to do something…you know…good, in return.’

  ‘That’s my Beth,’ she says, ‘you’re back all right!’ She reaches over and clutches me to her chest.

  ‘I’ll put together my application,’ I say, ‘but I’ll tell them it won’t be for a few months.’

  She nods, looking relieved. ‘Good. Thank you. I don’t think I could let you go anywhere, just yet. In a few months, I might have got used to the idea.’

  59

  Beth

  Two weeks later

  We meet at Holland Park in Kensington, inside the walled garden. Wisteria tumbles over the brickwork and peacocks strut around nonchalantly. It’s as though we’ve been lifted out of the metropolis and transported to the country. There are pockets all over London like this – little havens of tranquility, tucked away. It’s one of the things I love about this great city.

  I find him sitting on a bench scrutinising something ahead of him.

  ‘That’s Milos of Croton,’ he says, as I sit down next to him. He’s pointing to the Classical bronze statue in the centre. ‘He split a tree with his bare hands to demonstrate his strength and it snapped shut, trapping him inside.’

  ‘Let that be a lesson to us all,’ I say, not fully understanding exactly what the lesson is, but simply relieved we’re able to start on a light note.

  He laughs and gives me a strained smile. ‘How are you?’

  ‘Oh. Getting there. Mum has been brilliant. Protective when I need it and backing off, when I don’t. I’m going to have counselling…well, drama therapy, actually. One of my friends said it might help.’

  ‘And the callback? Did you get the part?’

  I smile. ‘No. They said they wanted someone who was more consistent.’

  He nods.

  Even out here in the open, I pick up the resinous smell of his expensive shoe polish. He nods and stares out towards the intricate patchwork of pink, purple and orange tulips. He seems distracted.

  ‘Let me take you to the Japanese Garden,’ he says, getting up. ‘It’s serene and beautiful…there’s a waterfall…’

  I shake my head, vigorously. ‘Sorry…I can’t be near water…not just yet.’

  ‘Oh…of course…bad idea…’ He sits back down again.

  He points out a peacock promenading along the far side, carrying its train of glistening feathers, jutting its head back and forth. I want to say something funny to break the brittle awkwardness that’s now filling the air between us, but I can’t think of anything.

  I take his hand and place it, inside mine, on my lap. I can’t bear to prolong this.

  ‘I need to tell you—’

  ‘I’m leaving London,’ he says abruptly, slicing into my sentence.

  ‘Oh…for how long?’

  ‘I’m relocating to New York.’

  I feel my chin snap inwards. ‘Relocating? When?’

  He withdraws his hand and taps my knee, stiffly. ‘Next week.’

  ‘What? You can’t be serious.’

  I wait for him to tell me I haven’t understood correctly.

  ‘A position has come up at the Broadway Dance Centre and I’ve accepted. That’s what a lot of my recent trips have been about.’

  I’m stunned. ‘When? When did you accept?’

  ‘Two weeks ago.’

  I pull back so I can see his entire face. ‘But…we were supposed to be getting married two weeks ago. You never said a word about it.’

  ‘I did mention living in the US.’ His voice is matter-of-fact.

  ‘Only in passing. Only vaguely, once or twice.’

  ‘Sometimes you have to act on opportunities when they come up. You’ll need to learn that if you’re going to get anywhere in show business.’

  I’m taken aback. I get to my feet. ‘Well…that kind of decides everything.’

  ‘You’re not coming?’

  ‘You didn’t ask me. You just decided without me.’

  He gets up to walk alongside me. ‘I thought you’d love it, once you got used to the idea. It’s all happening too fast, I admit that. I’m sorry I didn’t say anything more concrete, but you have been pretty difficult to pin down recently, you know?’

  I ignore his chuckle. I refuse to accept this omission as my fault.

  ‘What about Mum? I can’t just take off again, so soon after what happened.’

  ‘I see that. The timing isn’t great. Perhaps you could join me later.’

  I stop and face him. I need to deliver the final blow, so he knows there’s no point in discussing our future any further, but my throat feels like it’s clamped inside a giant nut-cracker.

  ‘I don’t think so.’ The words come out more firmly than I was expecting.

  ‘I see.’


  He turns and walks on.

  ‘You’ve had your big career and done it all,’ I tell him, catching up with him.

  ‘I’ve still got ambitions, still got plans,’ he says in return.

  ‘But they’re not the same as mine. You’re so far ahead of me.’ My teeth are chattering, even though it’s a mild spring day. ‘I think I need to be with someone at the beginning of their career, like me, so we can share the same journey. Share the adventure and discoveries together.’ I grit my teeth. ‘The bottom line is, I feel like I’m your student, your protégé, not your equal.’

  ‘I’m sorry I’ve made you feel like that. I hoped my experience would help you.’

  ‘It would, I’m sure. But to be getting married? We decided too soon, don’t you think? We don’t know each other, not properly. We’ve never spent enough consecutive days together, to see how we are with each other. You’re always leaving for your next business trip.’

  He stops. ‘That’s my life. I’m busy. Successful. You knew that when I first met you.’

  He has an annoying way of rolling forward onto the balls of his feet when he speaks to me – like he’s a professor, giving me a lecture.

  I carry on walking to stop him doing it. ‘But I don’t know who you are when you’re doing simple mundane things…like going to the supermarket or getting stuck in traffic. I don’t know who you are when you’re grumpy, angry or tired. There is so much that is untested between us. We’re like islands on an unchartered map. How will we be when we argue? How will you be when I’m upset? What will be the cruellest jibe you could throw at me? I don’t know how we fit together.’

  I can hear his breath coming and going loudly beside my ear and it’s starting to annoy me.

  ‘I’m not going to argue with you. We don’t know each other that well, that’s true. But I feel enough connection with you to trust we’ll discover all those aspects of each other as we go along. It seems you’re not interested in that, anymore. Instead, you want some kind of guarantee in advance that life is going to be utopian. A little naïve, don’t you think?’

  ‘It’s not like that. I know even the best marriage isn’t perfect. But, I’ve thought about our situation a lot. I think it’s all been too much of a rush.’