Hiding Game, The

by Brindle, J. T.

  ‘And he knows you’re pregnant, does he?’

  Afraid to answer, the girl clung to Luke, the truth betrayed by the fear in her eyes.

  ‘How old are you, girl?’

  ‘Nearly eighteen.’

  At least Anna was not a baby – not like she was when Mike abandoned her.

  ‘Luke says he won’t leave you. What do you say to that?’

  ‘I love him.’ She gazed at Luke, and there was no doubt she was speaking the truth. ‘I just want to be with him.’

  ‘What about your parents?’

  ‘My mother died four years ago. There’s only my father, and he hates Luke. He hates anybody who gets near me. He would never let me have friends, and now he’s found out about me and Luke, he means to split us up.’ Her voice broke. ‘Please don’t let him. Luke and I want to be together. We want the baby… we want to be a real family.’

  Luke confirmed every word she said. ‘Help us,’ he pleaded. ‘Tell us what to do.’

  Rosie looked at these two youngsters and felt the years roll away. She knew how it was. What was happening now was not Luke and Anna. It was her and Mike. But things were different then. This girl was not her. Anna was not alone, not like she had been. Alone and frightened, thrown on to the streets by her shamed parents. Anna was luckier. She had Luke. She had a chance to make something good come out of all this.

  Rosie made up her mind. ‘I have a plan which might suit us all.’

  For days now she had been thinking about making her way back to Bridport but so many obstacles stood in her way, the main one being Luke who would have argued about the dangers in going back. She had even thought about letting him go his own way, but she knew only too well what it was like to be cut adrift at such a tender age. So in spite of the troubles he had brought her at different times, she had dismissed the idea of turning him out. But now she could see he was not the child she believed him to be. Here was a young man with a sense of commitment. It was plain to see he loved Anna, and Anna clearly adored him, and though her father might think differently, Rosie thought they had every right to be together.

  She decided to help them, not just for their sakes but for hers too. Here was her chance to break away and carry out her plan. Right or wrong, she had to find Mike and do what she had always intended to do.

  Luke listened to her plan and was torn two ways. ‘If you let me and Anna have the camper van, where will you go? What will you do?’

  ‘Let me worry about that,’ she answered. ‘I’ve been on my own before, and I know the pitfalls.’

  Looking at her face and seeing the light in her eyes, he suddenly realised. ‘You’re going back there, aren’t you? You’re going to him.’

  ‘Yes.’ There was no point in lying. ‘Your father and I have unfinished business.’

  He didn’t know what she meant. ‘I’ve never been sure whether you love him or hate him.’

  She laughed. ‘Both. The line between love and hatred is very delicate.’

  Anna was intrigued. ‘You never mentioned your father, Luke. I thought he might be dead.’

  Luke looked away. ‘He might as well be. He’s a bastard!’

  ‘Like mine. He’s a bastard too. Where will we go, Luke?’ This was her man and she carried his child. All she could do was trust him.

  ‘As far away from here as possible.’ He tried to raise his arm; the pain was excruciating. ‘But if I can’t drive, we won’t be going anywhere.’

  ‘I’ll drive,’ she offered. Luke argued that she had never driven anything bigger than a Ford Escort but she managed to convince him it was not a problem.

  A few days later they left.

  The parting was bitter-sweet. Rosie stood by the kerb, wrapped up against the cold, suitcase in hand, and a small wad of hard-earned money in her bag. ‘You look after her now,’ she told Luke, and he promised he would.

  Anna thanked her for her help. ‘I’m not sure we should be letting you do this.’

  ‘You’ve got no choice,’ Rosie responded. ‘And you’d best make tracks, before your father comes looking for the pair of you.’

  ‘How will I know where you are?’ Luke asked.

  Rosie regarded him for a moment. ‘You’re not to worry about me, son. You’ve got someone of your own now, and a baby on the way. You think about them, and let the rest take its course.’

  ‘You’re going back to punish him, aren’t you?’

  ‘Like I said, your father and I have unfinished business. That’s all you need to know. Now go on,’ she urged. ‘Anna’s waiting.’

  ‘Come with us, please.’

  ‘I can’t.’

  The determination in her eyes and the defiant toss of her auburn head told him Rosie would not be persuaded from what she needed to do.

  Reluctantly, he climbed in beside Anna. ‘Take care of yourself,’ he told Rosie. ‘When the baby’s born, we’ll come and find you.’

  Rosie watched them go with a heavy heart. ‘I don’t even know if I’ll ever see you again,’ she whispered, and not for the first time that day, the tears ran down her face. But she didn’t regret her decision. Not for a minute. Not when she had Mike in her sights at last.

  For two days, Rosie slept rough. She ate what Nature provided, drank and washed in the streams, and made the fields her home.

  She spent her time thinking, and at last she was ready. ‘It’s now or never,’ she told herself.

  Hitching a lift into Weymouth, she found a chemist shop in one of the side streets and bought black hair dye, small, sharp scissors, and a hand mirror.

  When the items were paid for, she went down the street, scouring the shops until she found one suitable for her purpose. In here she selected a plain brown skirt and grey, long-sleeved blouse, with a woollen cardigan to match, and a dark duffel coat with a hood. At the back of the shop, she rummaged through boxes of shoes. The brown, flat-heeled ones were perfect for her new image.

  In the changing room she inspected herself in the long mirror. Saddened and shocked to see how frumpy and old she looked, Rosie comforted herself with the knowledge that it was all part of a greater plan.

  Having bought the clothing, she headed for the seafront. She felt closer to Mike now than at any time over these many months. At the promenade she hurried down to the ladies’ toilets.

  Just beyond the cubicles was a small washroom. ‘That’ll be 20p.’ The attendant held out her hand. ‘Face and hands only, and you bring your own soap.’

  Rosie paid and entered. She waited until the woman disappeared back inside her cubby-hole and then took out her scissors. Snip by devastating snip, she began hacking off her beautiful auburn hair. Not daring to look in the mirror, she cut until the wastebin was full, and her hair so close to her scalp it felt like a feather cap on her head.

  Gathering her courage, she raised her eyes and looked at the image in the mirror. What she saw made her catch her breath in horror. ‘Oh, Rosie!’ Shocked by the image staring back at her, she whispered under her breath, ‘How many more sacrifices must I make before it’s over?’

  She turned the hot and cold water taps on. When the sink was half filled, she took out the bottle of dye and placed it on the shelf beside her. The sooner she had washed and dyed what was left of her magnificent mane, the sooner the transition would be complete.

  She had just applied the black hair dye, when a shriek from behind gave her a fright. ‘What d’yer think you’re doing?’ the attendant demanded. ‘Face and hands only, I said! Now, get out of here before I have the police down on you.’

  ‘All right! All right!’ Wiping the liquid from her eyes, Rosie splashed her face clean. ‘I’m doing no harm,’ she pleaded. ‘Let me finish.’

  ‘Why should I?’

  When danger was about, Rosie had learned to think quickly. ‘Do you like my clothes?’

  The woman was taken aback. ‘What d’you mean?’

  Rosie fingered her jumper. ‘My clothes. Do you like them?’

  The woman took note of
Rosie’s attire – the smart jeans and attractive green jumper with its roll collar and pretty flower emblem. The leather ankle boots. The long dark woollen overcoat Rosie had worn on her way in was hanging on a peg beside her.

  ‘Well?’ Rosie saw the interest in the woman’s eyes.

  Wary, the woman answered, ‘What if I do like them?’

  ‘Let me finish here and you can have them.’ When the dye began to drip in her face, she quickly wiped it away. She had never used dye before and was afraid it might stain her skin if she didn’t hurry.

  The woman turned her shifty gaze on the coat. ‘That too?’

  Rosie nodded. ‘Is it a deal?’

  ‘OK.’ When she had started this job a week ago, she wasn’t too keen. The other attendants had told her there were perks to be had if you kept your eyes peeled. Now she knew what they meant. ‘You’d best wash that dye off your face and neck,’ she suggested drily, ‘or you’ll be marked for weeks.’

  She gave Rosie a bigger towel with which to dry her hair and from her tiny office she kept her eye on her. She watched her comb her hair, and she saw her dress herself in those awful, drab clothes. And she wondered what trouble the young woman had got herself into, to do such a dreadful thing.

  When Rosie handed over the bag of clothes, the woman looked her up and down. ‘It’s got nothing to do with me,’ she said, ‘but you must be mad. I can’t understand why anyone would want to change these clothes,’ she held up the bag, ‘for those.’ She gestured at Rosie’s new, unattractive attire. ‘What’s more, if I had hair like you’ve just dropped into that wastebin, they’d have to murder me before I’d let them cut a single strand of it.’ Shaking her head, she asked sadly, ‘Why ever did you do it?’

  The woman seemed friendly enough now but Rosie decided it would be unwise to get involved in conversation with her. ‘You’re right,’ she said stiffly. ‘It’s none of your business.’ She thanked her for the towel, and her help. ‘You’ve got the best of the bargain.’ Rosie glanced at the bag the woman was holding.

  The woman nodded. She had no cause to disagree. ‘Are you in some sort of trouble?’ she wanted to know.

  Rosie laughed. ‘I’ve been in trouble all my life,’ she said, and before the woman could question her further, she made good her escape.

  A few moments later, when she caught sight of herself in a shop window, Rosie almost didn’t recognise herself. ‘That’s good,’ she thought. ‘From now on I can be whoever I want to be.’

  The manager of the Landsmead Institute did not suspect Rosie was anything other than what she professed to be.

  Seated behind his desk and wearing a look of authority, he allowed her a few minutes of his precious time. ‘You do realise the work is…’ he paused, wondering how to describe the filthy jobs she would have to carry out. ‘What I’m saying is, we need a general help, and that means doing everything from cleaning out the patients’ rooms to scrubbing the kitchen floor.’

  ‘I understand, sir.’ Rosie had perfected the humble approach. ‘I’m not afraid of hard work.’

  ‘Hmh.’ He stared at her until she felt uncomfortable. ‘And you say you haven’t worked for some time?’

  ‘That’s right, sir. I’ve been looking after my aged mother. After she’d… gone…’ she looked suitably upset, ‘I sold the house and took to the road. Now I want to settle, get a proper job and somewhere to live.’

  ‘Well, as I’ve already explained, the only accommodation we can offer is a small bed-sitting room behind the nurses’ quarters.’

  ‘That will suit me fine, sir.’

  ‘And you say you can’t supply me with any references whatsoever?’

  ‘No, sir.’ It was no good lying. The only way was to convince him that she was the person for this job. ‘But I’m honest, and I’ll work long hours. I’m not worried about working in a hospital,’ she assured him. ‘I looked after my mother for so many years, I’ll probably feel at home here.’

  He stared at her shabby clothes and pretty face, and that awful crop of black hair, and he felt a pang of compassion. ‘Normally we insist on references, but I have to admit, there are very few people who want this sort of job. The work really is demanding.’

  ‘It doesn’t bother me, sir.’

  ‘Look, Miss…’ His brow furrowed. He was never very good with names.

  ‘Miss Downham,’ she answered. ‘Sheila Downham, sir.’

  ‘Yes, well, Miss Downham, as you are the only person to reply in three weeks of advertising, I think I might give you the opportunity to prove yourself.’

  Rosie smiled. ‘Thank you very much, sir,’ she answered humbly. ‘You won’t regret it.’

  He smiled for the first time since she had come into the room. ‘I don’t know about that,’ he said. ‘Matron usually interviews new recruits but as she’s not here for the next fortnight, the duty falls on me. I’m prepared to give you a trial, until Matron returns. After that, we’ll see. How does that suit?’

  ‘Thank you, sir.’

  ‘Sixty pounds a week, plus overtime.’ He consulted his notes. ‘Or forty pounds a week if you live in.’

  ‘I’d rather live in, sir,’ she answered. ‘It’ll be easier, especially if I’m working overtime and such.’

  ‘How soon can you start?’

  ‘Tomorrow, if you like, sir.’

  ‘Good. Things have been difficult since the last woman left.’ Bloody impossible, more like.

  ‘Could I move my things in tonight, do you think?’ The sooner she was settled in, the better.

  ‘That seems perfectly reasonable to me.’ He pressed a button on the telephone pad, and almost immediately a clerk came in. ‘Show Miss…’ Flustered, he looked at Rosie.

  ‘Downham, sir.’

  ‘Yes, of course.’ Addressing the clerk, his manner softened. ‘Miss Downham is starting work here tomorrow and she would like to see where she’ll be living.’ He gave the clerk a smile that was too intimate. ‘The same room as before,’ he said. ‘Take her along now, would you? I believe she wants to move her belongings in tonight.’

  The clerk returned his smile. As Rosie followed her down the outer corridor, she suspected there was more going on between those two than met the eye.

  Nobody knew better than Rosie that things were rarely as they seemed.

  14

  From the other side of the kitchen table, Julie kept a keen eye on her daughter. Since Steve Palmer’s death, Kerry had been morose and withdrawn. She had little time for her family, but where the business was concerned, she drove herself harder and harder, until the weight fell off her and her face grew haggard. ‘You’ve got to let up,’ Mike told her. ‘You’ll make yourself ill.’

  She never listened.

  In spite of knowing about her affair with Steve, he still loved her. ‘Stay home today,’ he urged now. ‘Go back to bed – one day off won’t hurt.’ Striding across the room, he leaned over her. ‘Let me keep an eye on your business, at least for today.’ When she didn’t reply, he leaned down to put his arms round her. ‘I promise not to ruin you,’ he teased. ‘I do know a bit about running a business.’

  ‘No!’ Realising how harsh she sounded, she gave a half-smile. ‘Thanks all the same,’ she said, ‘but I have to be there. I’m interviewing a new man today.’ That would be hard, she thought, finding someone to take Steve’s place. ‘Anyway, I thought you had an important meeting with the sign-writer.’

  ‘That can wait.’

  ‘No, it can’t. Not when you’re so close to seeing it all come together at last.’

  He didn’t need much persuading. Excitement had mounted all week. Now that the office was ready and the two hire vehicles were at the sign-writer’s, he couldn’t wait for that first phone call to kick it all off. ‘Are you sure?’ He was always prepared to put Kerry’s needs first.

  ‘I’m fine,’ she told him, with a glance at her mother who was silently listening. ‘You get on with what you’ve got to do.’ She pecked him on the cheek, eager to
be rid of him.’ Go on. You don’t want to keep the sign-writer waiting.’

  ‘OK. See you later then.’

  He finished his coffee, said goodbye to the kids, and left for his appointment.

  After he’d gone, Kerry sent the children upstairs. ‘I want you down here, dressed and ready for school in ten minutes.’ She looked at the clock. ‘And no wasting time,’ she warned. ‘I’ve a busy day ahead of me.’

  Julie waited until the children were out of earshot. ‘I rarely see eye to eye with Mike,’ she said, ‘but this time he’s right. Keep on the way you are and you’ll run yourself into the ground.’

  Kerry rounded on her, ‘Leave it, Mother!’

  ‘I can’t leave it,’ Julie persisted. ‘It’s painful to see you this way. I know how shocked you were by Steve’s death, and I understand what you’re feeling now.’

  ‘Really?’ Hostility rose like a bitter taste on her tongue. You don’t know anything, she thought.

  ‘Let me guess. You and Steve rowed, and now you can’t forgive yourself, is that it?’

  ‘Mind your own business.’

  ‘I thought so.’ Julie suspected there was more to it than that, but for now she was keeping her suspicions to herself. ‘You rowed and then he died. You mustn’t blame yourself. Guilt will drive you insane.’

  ‘It’s not me that’s guilty.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  Just then Susie came bounding into the room. ‘Jack won’t give me my PE kit. He keeps hiding it.’

  A small, white bag came hurtling through the air, with Jack walking sedately behind. ‘I did not hide it,’ he protested. ‘It was in your cupboard all the time. You didn’t look properly.’

  After inspecting them to make sure they were suitably washed and combed, Julie ushered them towards the hallway. ‘No arguing, you two. Get your coats on.’

  They were out there only a minute before the arguing started. ‘I’d better go.’ Taking her cup to the sink, Kerry rinsed it.

  Julie couldn’t leave it at that. ‘What did you mean when you said it wasn’t you that was guilty?’

  Angry, Kerry swung round. ‘It doesn’t matter.’