Watching Over You

by Sherratt, Mel

  No one really cared enough to ask questions, I suppose. I was left to rot – and be beaten on a daily basis. If I fought back, I got back twice as much. All the kids were scared of Billie. She used to make them hit me too, so that she wouldn’t get into trouble. When a couple are holding your arms while another is thumping you in the stomach or pulling your hair until you’re sure your neck will snap, you can’t do anything about it.

  When we were with other people, Billie would push me into things so that I would look clumsy. She’d thump me in the back or in the leg, deadening it when no one was looking. No one believed me when I said they weren’t accidents so, after a while, I didn’t tell anyone that I was being bullied. And if I did say anything, Billie accused me of lying, called me a troublemaker, and I was sent to my room until I could behave. Billie said I needed to get used to the fact that I was there to stay and that no evil little bitch was going to spoil her fun.

  And all the while everyone believed her. How could they? How could the system let a child down so? I was made out to be the naughty one. I was the one who wet the bed. Did I? I can’t remember that. All I can remember is her tipping cold water over me to wake me up and then accusing me of pissing myself. I never pissed myself. Billie made me cry so much I was permanently red-eyed. She was evil. And that’s what she made me. Evil, like her.

  And another thing, while I’m thinking about it, why didn’t anyone question those bruises? We hear of the children that have slipped through the net. We see their faces splashed across the news, those who’ve had despicable things done to them at the hands of responsible adults. Just like me.

  No one saw my bruises. Are we sure about that? No one? NO ONE? Not a fucking ONE?

  Billie was responsible for making me into what I am. It’s all her fault. Everything. EVERYTHING! She started it all.

  When my family died, a part of me died too. Why did they all leave me? WHY DID THEY FUCKING LEAVE ME?

  Chapter Five

  Having made coffee, Charley stood looking out of the bay window in the living room. Late Friday afternoon, the avenue was quiet but getting busier by the minute, no doubt as people returned from their jobs to start their weekends. The weather forecast was looking good for it. The early September day had been fairly warm but overcast. A slight breeze played with a crisp packet that had been discarded on the pavement. Three doors down to her right, a man polished a mean-looking Toyota Hilux that only just fitted his driveway. The woman next to him was attacking overgrown hedges, leaves falling like confetti at a wedding before bunching together on the pavement.

  From the corner of her eye, she saw a movement and looked across to the house opposite, number thirty-eight. That woman, Jean, was in the window again. Charley wondered if it was true that she never moved from the chair or if Ella was being ironic in her observations. She couldn’t imagine being housebound. But if it was true, maybe she could help out by getting the odd bit of shopping in for her. It wasn’t much to do, if she would accept help – she knew from her job that some people were too proud. Or perhaps she wouldn’t be here long enough. Even though she had signed the lease for six months, she was planning on looking for a property to buy.

  There came a knock on the door behind her and Ella appeared in the doorway.

  ‘Hiya, I hope you don’t mind me walking in. I wouldn’t do it any other day and I only did it today because the front door was ajar. And well, I’m a nosy bag, too, on the quiet.’ She paused. ‘That’s a joke, by the way.’

  ‘I didn’t realise the door had been left open, to be honest. I was taking a break from unpacking. I haven’t annoyed you with all the noise, have I?’

  ‘Oh, no.’ Ella shook her head. ‘I’m glad that you’re here at last. This place gives me the creeps when it’s empty.’

  ‘Oh?’

  ‘I like noise,’ she explained. ‘You’ll always find me with a radio on or the TV turned down low. I won’t be too noisy for you, though,’ she added. ‘I’m digging a hole for myself, aren’t I? I’m noisy and nosy and everything you don’t want in a neighbour.’

  Charley smiled this time. Even though Ella was too thin for her liking, she noted her beauty as the smile was returned.

  ‘Really, it’s fine,’ she said, then her shoulders sagged. ‘I have so much to do.’

  ‘You don’t have to do it all in one go, surely?’

  ‘I have a couple of days off from work. I’d like to get as much done as I can before I’m in again next week.’

  ‘What do you do?’

  ‘I’m a support worker at a domestic violence organisation,’ said Charley.

  Ella raised her chin in acknowledgement. ‘Is it a local place?’

  ‘Yes.’ Charley didn’t like to divulge too much information about her job; she had a good reputation for privacy. She delved into the box on the settee and pulled out a framed photograph. It was of her and Dan on their wedding day. She held back the sob she could feel building up.

  ‘I can help, if you like?’ Ella offered.

  Charley composed herself quickly. ‘Thanks, but I’ll manage.’ She passed the photograph to Ella. ‘This was my husband, Dan. He was killed, just over eighteen months ago now.’

  ‘Oh, shit, I’m sorry.’ Ella grimaced.

  ‘It’s okay,’ said Charley. ‘It was one of the reasons I wanted a smaller place. The house we shared was too big for me on my own.’

  ‘I’m divorced,’ Ella told her, taking the photo from Charley. ‘I stupidly got married at seventeen and he left me when I was eighteen. Been on my own ever since – I mean I haven’t married again. I’ve been in the odd relationship every now and then. But nothing special, you know.’

  ‘Yes. I was very lucky to have the time I had with him.’ Charley smiled kindly. ‘I’m sure there’ll be someone out there for you, too.’

  ‘Maybe – if I could just find him.’ Ella laughed. ‘It’s fun looking, though. It’s what makes life interesting, I suppose.’

  Later that evening, Charley was so exhausted that she practically crawled into bed. She’d left it as late as she could, unpacking as much as possible just to put off this moment; hadn’t wanted to stop because she knew once she did she would crumble. She knew the first night would be the worst, when she wouldn’t be able to imagine Dan was maybe still downstairs watching the end of a horror movie, like she’d done every time she’d missed him previously.

  The firsts, they were the worst. As soon as he’d died, people offered advice, always telling her what was to come. And they had been right. First, it was the shock and then the disbelief. Next came anger, and then the grief. Finally, the acceptance. Charley had accepted that Dan had gone a long time ago but still she hadn’t moved on with her life. Part of moving out of their home in Werrington was acceptance. And she didn’t miss him all of the time. That would be impossible; even she knew that. What she missed most was the warmth of being part of a couple. She missed having someone to share news with, good or bad. Of course she had her mum and dad to chat to but it was hardly the same. She hated making decisions on her own too, without anyone else’s input.

  The photograph of her and Dan that she’d shown to Ella earlier clinked on the frame of the bed as she climbed underneath new covers with it, eyes spilling tears when she realised she wouldn’t be able to smell him anywhere. Of course his smell had gone a long time ago, but that still didn’t help. She sniffed, more tears coming as she tried to focus on his image. Then she curled up with photograph on the pillow next to her and cried herself to sleep.

  Across the road at number thirty-six, Jake Carter had been lying in bed watching YouTube on his iPad when he heard a car coming along Warwick Avenue. As it came to a halt outside his home, he checked his alarm clock. It was one fifty a.m. which could mean only one thing. He pulled the duvet back and raced to the window. Sure enough, he looked down onto the road to see Ella getting out of the passenger side of
a taxi. He smiled to himself until he saw she was alone.

  Jake had been watching Ella for some time now. It had started when he’d spotted her on a night out with his friends. They weren’t supposed to be in the pubs around Hanley, but most of them looked older than eighteen, especially Jake because of his height at six foot one. He was always the one who’d be sent to buy the drinks if in doubt. It was where he’d spotted Ella in The Manhattan, recognising her as his neighbour. She’d been alone at the time, sitting on a stool at the end of the bar, not so crowded back there. He’d watched her then, too. She’d flashed him a sexy smile that he’d remembered long after.

  Ella lived practically opposite him. If he was next door at number thirty-eight, where that nosy old bag Jean Cooper lived, he was sure he’d be able to see directly into her room upstairs. As it was, he could see enough.

  It wasn’t easy, though. She didn’t have a set routine – Jake would have had to sit and watch the window all day and night to catch her every move – but he reckoned he caught a fair bit of what she got up to anyway. Besides that, she was always parading up and down in her window with hardly anything on. And he was pretty sure she could see him watching.

  He’d seen her bring home seven men so far – one she’d shagged bent over the table in the window. Man, it had been such a turn-on. He couldn’t wait to see her do it again. But not tonight, sadly.

  He fantasised what it would be like to kiss her, to touch her breasts, for her to feel the weight of him pressing down as he shagged her. He dreamt about her too. Wet dreams, good dreams, wanting to turn those dreams into reality one day.

  Would she notice him? He was only seventeen but he was all man. Too much man for Serena Cotton, though, when he’d tried to get into her knickers last month. She’d pushed him away and played the virgin card when he knew his mate Simon had shagged her twice already.

  Disappointed, he trudged back to bed. He’d have to settle for a magazine of big tits and a box of tissues. But one day, he would have her. A woman like her wouldn’t be able to resist a come-on.

  Charley awoke with a start. She sat up abruptly. Had she heard a noise or had she been dreaming? She held her breath and sat still listening, but there was nothing. She flopped back onto the bed, hoping that it was just a clank of a heating pipe or one of the old sash windows that had a rattle. She supposed it would be some time before she’d adjust to the creaks and groans of a different property.

  But there was the noise again. Something was banging – no, someone was banging. For a moment, she was unsure what to do. At least now she could tell the noise wasn’t coming from inside the flat. She lay there, hearing the sound of her heart beating wildly, finally daring to get out of bed. Cautiously, she tiptoed across the room and hallway into the living room, the bay windows giving her access to view the street outside. She peeped around the corner of the window frame and let out a huge sigh of relief.

  It was Ella, on the doorstep. And if she wasn’t mistaken, she was drunk and trying to find her key in her handbag. Charley wondered whether to let her in. If she did, would it be a regular occurrence? She didn’t want to set herself up to be the unofficial key holder. But then, who was she to judge Ella? She didn’t know her yet, didn’t know what had happened to make her drink so much. And she’d want Ella to let her in if she was so paralytic that she couldn’t find her keys.

  She got to the entrance door and pulled it open just as Ella was about to bang on it again. Ella fell forward onto her, knocking them both down onto the floor. Charley grunted as she took her weight – and the full impact of the tiled floor.

  ‘Ohhhhhh,’ laughed Ella. ‘I’m sooooo sorry.’

  Charley coughed. She tried to push Ella to the side, but even as small as she was, she seemed like a dead weight. She pushed again.

  Ella rolled over and onto her back with another giggle. She peered at Charley, trying to focus. ‘Sorry,’ she repeated, blowing the hair from her face noisily, before brushing it away with her hand. ‘I’m a little bit tipsy and I couldn’t find my key.’

  Charley got up from the floor and closed the door. ‘Have you had a good night?’ she asked.

  ‘I can’t remember.’ Ella laughed again.

  Ella stayed on the floor looking like an adorable puppy waiting to be picked up for a cuddle. Realising she wasn’t going to move, Charley helped her to her feet.

  ‘Will you be okay or do you want me to take you upstairs to your flat?’

  Ella waved her hand. ‘No, s’fine.’ She hung onto the banister rail and peered down, swaying gently. ‘I’m glad that you’ve moved in because…because you can watch over me now.’ She prodded Charley in the shoulder. ‘I need a friend, someone to look after me.’

  ‘You need to go to bed.’

  ‘Yes, I do.’ Ella turned and staggered up the stairs. ‘G’night.’ She put up a hand before disappearing around the corner.

  Once Charley had heard Ella’s front door open and close, she went back to her flat, praying that the episode had been a one-off.

  Chapter Six

  Charley awoke the following morning, rolled over onto her side, and gazed out of the window. The weather outside did look as promised; although there was an autumnal chill settling in, she could see fragments of blue sky through bright white clouds.

  A few minutes later, she sat up and stretched, looking around her new bedroom. She liked the pale walls and the wooden floor but she would get a rug to add a dash of colour. Something to match the large green flowers on the bedding she had bought. She’d have a look this morning; she needed to go shopping today, having run down the food in her cupboards because of the move.

  At half past ten, she was getting into her car to head off when she spotted Ella walking along the avenue coming back towards the house. She waved to catch her attention.

  ‘Morning.’ Ella came over to her. ‘How was your first night? Did you sleep well?’

  ‘I did, thanks. How about you? You were a little tipsy last night. How’s your head this morning?’

  Ella frowned.

  Charley raised her eyebrows. ‘Don’t tell me you’re one of those people who can drink until they drop and then don’t have a hangover the next day?’

  Ella shook her head. ‘Nope, you’ve lost me.’

  ‘Last night. You couldn’t find your key and I let you in and you fell on top of me.’

  ‘I didn’t go out last night.’

  ‘You did! Can’t you remember?’

  Ella shook her head again. ‘You must have been dreaming.’

  ‘No, I –’

  Something made Charley pause. It was strange that Ella would deny what had happened; she hadn’t been dreaming. Maybe Ella was embarrassed. Charley could recall a few times when she’d been drunk and didn’t want to remember what a fool she’d made of herself.

  She smiled, giving her the benefit of the doubt. ‘I’m off to the supermarket – do you need anything?’

  ‘No, thanks, I’m good.’

  ‘Right, then. I’ll see you later.’

  Ella let herself into the house and pulled the key from the lock. She turned back in time to see Charley driving off. What had she been referring to? She hadn’t gone out last night. Why would she make things up like that?

  But as she let herself into her flat, she noticed a pair of black heels thrown across the floor in the hallway, and a purple skirt scrunched up on the floor as if she’d stepped out of it. Slowly things started coming back to her.

  Darren, was that his name? Had she met him in Hanley? She must have been somewhere; there was mud on her shoes.

  She sighed loudly. Christ, she’d had another blackout, hadn’t she? She tried to remember, but she couldn’t recall getting home or what time she’d left the bar – had she been to Rendezvous again?

  But then she frowned: it was one thing to want excitement, a bit of need in her life,
but if she wasn’t careful she was going to get hurt – or worse, if anything could be any worse than what she had already faced.

  She nibbled on her bottom lip as she bent to scoop up the skirt from the floor. It wouldn’t hurt for Charley to assume she had been wrong. It might stand her in good stead if she blacked out again.

  Or if she wanted to use it to her advantage sometime.

  Charley spent the rest of the weekend sorting out the flat and was grateful for a break when Monday morning arrived. She was at her workplace in the city centre by quarter to nine, sifting through a pile of handwritten messages on the top of her desk. Situated in Stafford Street, which housed the Intu Potteries shopping centre at the far end of it, the base for Striking Back was upstairs above a furniture shop. Today, she could see a little blue sky again; the warm weather seemed determined to stick around.

  She sat down at her desk, set in a bank of three – two support workers and an assistant who split the heavy workload amongst themselves. Their corner of the open-plan office was fairly quiet at the moment, Charley being the only one of their team who had arrived. She switched on her computer and caught up with what she’d missed over her two days off. Deep into it, she didn’t notice someone walking towards her minutes later.

  ‘Morning, Charley. How did it go?’

  Charley looked up to see Aaron Campbell standing in front of her. Holding two plastic cups of coffee, he popped one down on her desk before perching on the end of it.

  She smiled at him. ‘It went okay, thanks.’

  ‘No mishaps, broken mirrors, missing ornaments?’

  ‘Nothing whatsoever. It all went really well. How was your weekend?’