by Linda Coles
“So, are we off to a shelter for Christmas dinner, then, do you think?”
“Actually, we’ve got a dinner invite,” she answered sweetly. “I was keeping it as a surprise but since you asked…” Chloe’s eyes were gleaming as she delivered the news.
“Oh, nice one, Chloe. Where are we going?”
“Roy has asked us to join him in his flat. In fact, he’s asked us to go around mid-morning, have a bath each and stay for dinner. How about that?” she said triumphantly.
“A bath? Whoo-hoo!” Billy said, pumping his fist in the air. “A bath! Imagine it, Chloe! And dinner!” His smile could have melted a frozen block of butter.
“It’s so nice of him, isn’t it? We should take the Scrabble round with us, have a game before we eat. Maybe I could thrash the two of you?”
“I suspect Roy might be a bit of a closet boffin, actually. He could probably thrash us both even if we joined forces together. I know he does the crossword each day. I’ve seen them filled in, and he doesn’t watch TV much. Nah, I’d be surprised if either of us two wins, unless he lets us add dodgy words like you do,” he said, laughing. “But we should take him a gift somehow. He’s been good to us, to you particularly. But what, though?”
Chloe sat thoughtfully for a moment. Billy was right: they couldn’t go empty-handed. “I’ll think of something and organize it, a small gesture of our appreciation. First thing in the morning. We’ve only got tomorrow. It’s Christmas Eve.”
“Okay. From your face it looks like you have something in mind. I’ll leave it in your capable hands, then,” Billy said, lying back on the old bed and pulling a blanket up close. The small garage was beginning to look quite homely now with their few belongings; the extra blankets that Roy had dropped off helped tremendously. And so far, the old lady who let them kip there was happy with the arrangement, as long as her neighbours kept quiet. The moment they complained, Billy and Chloe would have to leave, and neither wanted that to happen. A safe and dry place to stay was a major coup for them. “But right now, I reckon it’s time to get some shut-eye. I’m tired out – what about you?”
Chloe moved closer to him, and he wrapped his arm around her shoulder, pulling her close. While they weren’t officially a couple, they cared for one another and looked out for one another and in the comfort of her friend’s arms, Chloe let her mind wander off to her baby, Mary. She’d be wrapped up snug in a warm cot somewhere, safe and sound and hopefully loved already, a love that Chloe herself would never let fade, whether she was in the little girl’s life or not. Giving her up had been the right thing to do. A newborn baby living on the streets with her was out of the question, and financially not feasible. So, it would be her first Christmas without her child, and while baby Mary fed on warm formula and was rocked to sleep on someone else’s shoulder, Chloe hoped one day Mary would forgive her.
Chapter Thirty-Five
Christmas Eve or not, Chloe needed to work. Most wouldn’t call begging ‘work,’ but nonetheless, generating an income off the streets was how she fed Billy and herself, and they both pulled their weight in that department. If they were ever going to get a little saved up so they could clean up and step up, every day counted. But begging could be cruel, they both knew, and pilfering could be risky. While it was quicker to do the latter, at least with begging they were receiving rather than taking. Either way, both would have preferred a proper job, but then both would have preferred a proper home, too.
While Chloe had told Billy a little bit about her previous life, he had shared nothing of his. She figured that the day he wanted to share with her would be the day she found out. He didn’t pry into her background either; he had only touched on the subject the one time, and she’d clammed up anyway. Maybe with Christmas upon them and baby Mary safe and well somewhere, she’d tell him all about her life as Chloe Matthews, the girl her parents had rented out as a cash cow. Would he be disgusted at her, she wondered? She didn’t think she could stand that. He was her only friend in the world right now and she couldn’t imagine losing him and surviving on her own, didn’t want to imagine.
She liked Billy immensely. And she hoped he liked her back.
And while Roy was on her peripheral, he wasn’t a close friend, not like Billy. Roy was much older, a surrogate father on the edge of her life, keeping an eye on her when he could. He tried not to make himself responsible for her, and she tried not to need him to. He gave her space and kept her secret close to his chest. If he told the authorities it had been her baby found at the church, her life would be turned upside down yet again, and she wasn’t capable of coping with it all again. The first lot of dust was only settling now. But she cherished his kindness, knowing he himself didn’t have many friends. He was a bit of an oddball, and the sole inhabitant of the flat above his café, but he had a heart the size of a lion’s. And she and Billy were spending Christmas Day with him. A hot bath, a hot dinner and a game of Scrabble – it was going to be perfect.
The clock on the outside of the old church in the distance read nearly twelve o’clock. No wonder her stomach was complaining. She reached into her pocket for the sandwich she’d made earlier. She’d made Billy one too, though ‘sandwich’ was too fine a word for the cheap bread smeared with beef paste from a jar. Still, it was salty and filled a corner of her otherwise empty belly. The thought of her belly made Chloe think again of what had been there, growing, unbeknown to her and those around her until it had been too obvious to ignore. She’d always been a slim girl; running had kept her strong and in shape. But eventually she’d been unable to conceal the pregnancy, and a few months later, baby Mary had materialized and Chloe had found her way to exactly where she was now – outside a storefront begging.
“Can you spare any change, please?” she asked the stream of blank, un-noticing faces as they passed her by. She repeated the same question, over and over like a recording, but was getting nowhere fast. With only £4 and some loose change in her hat out front, there wasn’t going to be much to take home at the end of the day.
She noticed a group of five or six men in suits heading her way, laughing at something as they walked. They looked like wealthy bankers or lawyers, their tailored suits and thick overcoats like uniforms, only their ties setting them apart. Even the hair on their heads looked the same; they were like clones. She hoped one would stop. Surely at least one of them would have a couple of quid to help her out? Fastening on the friendliest looking clone, she tried to catch his eye as she spoke.
“Would you have any spare change, please?” she enquired politely. But the six men carried on past, not wavering from their jolly discussion, not hearing a word she said, their backs towards her as she followed them with her eyes.
“Even a little bit would help,” she added fruitlessly, as her words fell on deaf ears. Then, to her surprise, the friendly clone turned and walked back to her. While he wasn’t smiling, he wasn’t threatening either, but even so, Chloe gulped a breath down as he approached.
“Hi. What’s your name?” he asked flatly.
“It’s Chloe. Why do you ask?”
“Well, Chloe, my sister is about your age and when she ran away from home last year, my parents went out of their minds with worry until she came home. I expect yours might be doing the same right now. I assume you’re not living at home?” Chloe shook her head ‘no’ and let him carry on. If he was going to say something mean or spit at her, he may as well get it over with.
“Here. I’m giving you a couple of quid for the pay phone. Give them a call and at least let them know you’re alright, eh? Even if you don’t go home, give them a call, yeah?” His brown eyes pleaded with her silently and she knew he was telling the truth about his sister. The couple of coins in his black-gloved hand taunted her. What she could buy with them.
“How did she get back home? How did you find her?” she asked quietly.
“She got into trouble. The cops found her, thank god. It was hard on us all, but she’s back safe and well now. It all worked
out in the end.”
“I’m glad she’s okay. It sounds like she has a nice family, and that’s where we differ. That’s why I’m here.” Chloe bowed her head, not wanting to say any more about her situation, and not wanting him to see the tears gathering in her eyes.
“Look, take the money anyway,” he urged. “In fact, here’s a tenner.” He pulled his wallet from his inside jacket pocket and flipped it open. “Get something hot to eat, eh? And if you can find it inside of you, give your parents a call. Stop them worrying.”
Chloe looked up again and their eyes met, hers wet with salty tears, his soft and kind. All she could do was nod; any words would have been strangled in her constricted throat. He nodded back, an encouraging smile on his lips, and then turned to catch up with his colleagues, leaving Chloe rooted to the spot, tears flowing freely down her cheeks.
It wasn’t her parents she was thinking about though. It was Mary.
Chapter Thirty-Six
It was the click of the key turning in the lock that caught her attention. Gathering the thin blanket and pulling it closer around her shoulders, she pressed herself into the corner of the wall as best she could, in a vain attempt to disappear through it, like a small child escaping a monster in a nightmare. Unlike a bad dream, there was no waking up from this situation. It was her reality until she figured something out.
Or they let her go.
In her heart, she knew that would never happen. She’d seen one man’s and one woman’s face, though she doubted the woman was part of whatever it was she was involved in. No, she’d looked as miserable as Leanne herself, the abused rather than an abuser. Her eyes had held a scared, submissive message, a warning, perhaps.
Leanne watched, petrified, as a man she hadn’t seen before entered the room and slowly made his way towards the bed where she was cowering in the corner. He was lanky and tall, with dirty blond hair and at least two days’ worth of stubble. Strong as she was at home or with her friends, she didn’t feel any of it now, her usual energy depleted from both lack of food and lack of sleep. Mustering the dregs of her courage, Leanne willed herself to look tougher than she actually was. Not saying a word, she waited to see what would happen next, what the man wanted. He sat on the end of the bed where the fat man had sat the previous day and reached a hand out towards her leg. She rapidly shifted it back, out of his reach. The man laughed, throwing his head back. The noise reverberated around the dim dank room, and when he finally stopped and turned to look at her properly, there was no joy in his face. What she saw there made her stomach lurch, and she fought to control the rising feeling of fright and panic mixed together with her last meagre meal. She swallowed it all down, vowing to carry on with her act of strength, not sure how long it would last, how long she could hold on for.
He reached out again. This time, his hand connected with her leg. There was nowhere for her to move to, to escape to, and she felt herself being dragged towards him. He put his other hand out now and grabbed her other leg, pulling her down the bed until she was laid flat. The man loomed over her.
If she closed her eyes, he’d won, she told herself. She vowed to keep them open, stare him in the face, try and make him understand that what he was about to do to her was wrong. So very wrong. Her bottom lip started to tremble as she watched him undo his belt and unbutton his fly. The zip slid down easily as he slipped his trousers off. His erection was visible in his boxer shorts.
“Thought I’d say goodbye to you before you go,” he sneered as he tugged off her track bottoms and pushed her legs apart, leaving her exposed to his gaze. Still, she stared at him, her eyes starting to burn as the first tears stung them. She fought to keep them at bay, not wanting to show the weakness of every sinew in her body. There was no pleading, there was no fighting, there was nothing outwardly visible to her abuser, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t happening to her inside – in her head, in her heart.
As the man smiled his appreciation at her exposed body and moved to take his prize, she waited for her moment to come, the moment when she knew he’d be the least suspecting of her plan, the plan she was mustering all her inner strength for. The stale tobacco stench of too many cigarettes mixed with body odour assaulted her nose but Leanne focused above it; the smell she could deal with. It was what the pig lying on top of her was about to do to her that she couldn’t deal with, not in the same way.
As the man fumbled with his shorts, Leanne mustered every gram of strength from the innermost parts of her body and slammed the sharp end of the teaspoon into the side of his neck with all her might. The outside of her fist connected with his skin as the point entered his neck, and she drove it home forcefully. Before he had a chance to react, Leanne yanked it back out and slammed it in again as he tried to gain traction and get back to his feet, holding his neck at the same time. The end of the spoon protruded from between his fingers. Blood shot in a jet up the wall as he held his neck; his shirt looked like it had been soaked in claret.
Leanne knew she had only seconds now. There was no time to see what happened to the man. It didn’t matter. She had to leave the room, take her chances with what was on the other side of that door, and hope his screams of anguish went unheard. Perhaps they’d think they were her cries and ignore them; she could only hope. Her legs shook as she propelled herself across the room to the door. She yanked it open, grabbed the key, and relocked it behind her, leaving her captive on the other side. His shouts of fury and the sound of his fists banging on the door were audible to anyone in the building, but Leanne moved fast and quiet like a cat down the stairs towards the bottom, hoping she didn’t meet anyone on the way down.
Once there, she could see an entrance door. She was in an old house of some sort after all. She glanced around the corner over the handrail. There was light coming from underneath one of the doors towards the back but there didn’t seem to be any movement or noise. There was no time to spare, no time to stand and think, and as the angry shouts coming from the room upstairs grew fainter, she flew towards the main entrance and hoped it was her way out to safety and freedom.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
It was nearly 4 pm by the time Jack managed to leave the station and seek out the young man he’d met only twice previously. He’d broached the subject of dinner with Janine, and while she’d readily agreed, Jack had picked up a question in her voice, one that she didn’t actually ask: “Why this boy?” Why, then Jack? he’d asked himself. What was so special about this young man? It couldn’t be his cheek alone. Did he see himself in the boy, perhaps, or was he getting soft in his not-so-old age?
The first place he headed was where they’d first met only a few days ago, not far from the station. Jack smiled again as he remembered the boy’s Monty Python approach to begging, the reason he’d stood out in the first place, the reason Jack had stopped. With the last of the day’s light, Jack got out of his warm car and set off in search of young Billy. If he and Janine could offer him and his girl a hot meal and a game of cards on Christmas Day, then they surely would. There was plenty of room for the four of them, and he hoped they would accept his invitation in the goodwill spirit it was intended and not fear that Jack and his wife were weirdos with an agenda. He hoped the card he’d passed on to the youngster would give him confidence and not scare him off; cops weren’t always out to catch someone unawares.
But on Christmas Eve on a cold afternoon, there was hardly anybody out on the street. Most people had finished work much earlier and were probably now full of eggnog, sleeping the afternoon off on the sofa. The thought appealed to him, but with now three children missing, he’d be lucky if he got Christmas dinner himself.
After walking the same street for ten minutes or so and not seeing or hearing Billy, he was about to give up and try somewhere else when he saw a hunched form in a doorway up ahead, sitting on a piece of cardboard and wrapped in an old blanket. As Jack approached, he realized it wasn’t Billy. It was a dirty-looking young man holding a cardboard sign.
“I�
�m looking for a young lad called Billy. About this height,” Jack said, demonstrating with his hand around his own ears. “Fair curly hair, maybe seventeen-ish. A bit cheeky and maybe with a girl. Have you seen him recently? Today, maybe?”
The man’s vacant eyes stayed vacant as he looked up at Jack and shook his head slowly.
“Any idea at all where I might find him?” Jack persisted.
The young man gave only a gentle shake of his head. Jack glanced down at the makeshift sign and read the words presumably he’d written himself – “Can you spare some change, please? I’d ask myself but I’m mute.”
Abashed, Jack reached into his pocket for change. He tossed the handful of coins into the cap that sat next to the sign and won a nod of the man’s head for his generosity.
“Take care, and Merry Christmas,” he added as he turned and made his way back to his parked car. If only he knew where Billy called home, he could go round and find him, but he didn’t, and with almost everyone gone from the streets as the darkness finally fell, Jack couldn’t help thinking he’d left it too late, that the boy and his girl would now go without, or queue at a soup kitchen like all the rest. It was with a heavy heart that he drove on to the charity shop, his last chance of seeing the boy before he headed back himself.
As he pulled into an empty parking space, he wasn’t too hopeful at his chances. The street was almost empty and most shops had closed. A handful of last-minute shoppers scurried from doorway to doorway.
Everyone had gone home. Perhaps Jack should do the same.
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Christmas Eve was not the most productive time to be coaxing change from strangers’ pockets, and by 2 pm, both Chloe and Billy had called it a day. Frozen through like two popsicles, they found themselves back at the garage about the same time, each carrying a plastic bag. Billy slid his behind his back so she couldn’t see what he had inside.
