by Sarah Till
“What’s so interesting about me? I’m just a PR woman from Belgravia.”
Payne turned.
“You’re the daughter of someone who’s just been murdered. Sounds like they’re focussing on the suicide angle. Front page I shouldn’t wonder. Anyway, I’ll be in touch later.”
They left and Ellis held me. He squeezed me hard and it hurt a lot but I didn’t have the strength to tell him. When he eventually drew back, he was crying.
“I should have come with you. I should never have let you go alone.”
The thought had never crossed my mind.
“No. Then we’d both be here, or worse. Well, if it could be worse.”
I suddenly felt embarrassed as a bolt of pain ran up my leg. I mused over the fact that if he had been Swiss Steve, I would have had a full character assassination by now, how it was my fault because I was asking for it and because I was wearing makeup. I wondered where the much-publicised victim support services were, and if I would have access to them. A nurse, or a counsellor, just someone who would explain what had happened.
I went over what had happened again and again in my head. It sounded surreal and echoed around the I was attacked? Or committed suicide.
“El, go home and get some tea. You need something to eat.”
His glassy eyes stared at me and he rested his head on my stomach.
“I just keep thinking about how they don’t believe us. John Baxter, that bastard, he’s spun a clever fucking web, he’s put a lot of thought into this. He’s fucking mad. It seems like he’s played on what people will believe most. Like that terror plot, it’s fucking easy for everyone to believe that’s possible, while it’s difficult to believe that someone so sanctimoniously puffed up with goodness would harm a fly.”
I immediately produced an image of Kevin Jakowski in my imagination.
“It’s all in the words, Jinny, all in the words.”
Of course. That’s what John Baxter was doing. He was using scenarios that would make everyone else look bad, much worse than they actually were, already demonised scenarios and making himself look artificially angelic. The terror plot, the heroin user, suicide, all tinged with evil in some way. It was as clever as it was shocking. He had been watching me for years. I pictured him, violating my time alone on the tube, the only time I had to myself, peering at me on a flat two-dimensional screen, a flat Jinny with no personality, no laughter, no facial expressions. Just me thinking. He probably couldn’t even relate to me as a person, just someone he hated who had taken his father away. All this still begged one question: if he wanted me dead so badly, how on earth had he managed to not kill me? The syringe had still been in the cubicle with me, so it must have been administered there. I decided to sleep. I needed to regain my strength. A nurse came into the room and took my blood pressure.
“I’ve arranged for a councillor to come and see you with the doctor. They will speak to you about your injuries and treatment and when you can go home.”
I thanked her. Ellis was already dozing, gripping my hand and making baby snores. I shut my eyelids.
Suzzy luvs Robert 4 eva.
I opened them again, afraid to go to sleep in case John Baxter and his mother came to finish me off. Us off. Ellis and I, two people in the business of keeping ourselves to ourselves. Our lives threatened yet no police guard at our door. No one would believe a junkie suicide victim. What would Ted Brierly say? What about my job? And Lynus? I guessed that he would no longer want me associated with the Joseph Emmanuel project. Shit. Overnight I had become one of the people they claimed to assist, poor helpless ‘users’ who are ‘disadvantaged’, ‘victims’ of abuse, sleeping in public places. My exhausted mind raced to the Monday morning in the coffee room at work. The scandal on the lips of every clerk and typist in the place. Worse than my abandoned family, worse than my workaholic tendencies, worse than my frumpiness and my tomboy looks: a drug habit. I could hear them now:
“Well, heroin, I am surprised, I thought it would have been cocaine.” “She’s been at it for years, you know, I always knew.”
I shut my eyes again and felt the cold tiles on my back. Shooting pains up my legs. I idly wondered what would happen next. I was just dropping off when I heard a rustling then the opening of a door. Ellis stirred but lay more heavily on my stomach. I forced my eyelids open. Two women stood in a huddle in the corner of the room. I could tell that I was returning to my usual self, because I shouted loudly.
“Hi, I'm awake!”
They turned around with their solemn faces and pitying looks and I knew they had bad news. I ran over every scenario I could think of in a second then they approached.
“Mrs Munro.”
I shivered.
“Ms. Ms Munro. I'm divorced. In fact, Virginia.” Their eyes collectively dipped to Ellis’ zoned-out state. I ruffled his hair and smiled. “Ellis, my partner.” He let out a little snore and nuzzled my navel through the sheets. The women stepped forward.
“Well, Virginia, we've done some tests and we don't think there will be any lasting damage from the opiates you imbibed. We examined you when you were admitted and there was no evidence of sexual assault.”
Both the women looked uncomfortable and eyed Ellis again. I quickly excluded him from their suspicions.
“Yes, I was attacked and drugged. Don't worry, he knows what has happened to me.”
The women looked at each other. Then other one spoke.
“Mainly bruising. Physically anyway. Jenny here is a counsellor. We wondered if you'd like to talk about what's happened.”
I looked at their hopeful, kind faces and felt guilty for feeling so disgusted by them. Hitting me with this when I had just woken up from an unintentional overdose. Could I be bothered explaining things to them? I seriously doubted it. But I knew I had to be polite.
“I don't think I'm up to it right now. Can I make an outpatient’s appointment? Please?”
They nodded and smiled.
“Of course. But before we let you go, we need to make sure that you won't do anything like this again.” They held their heads patronisingly on one side in unison. An inappropriate outburst was on the tip of my tongue and ILS bubbled to the surface, but I somehow restrained myself.
“No. No. I'm absolutely certain that this will not happen to me again. When can I go home?”
“Tomorrow. So long as there's someone there to look after you.”
I smiled angelically and pointed at Ellis.
“He'll be there. All the time. I'll take some time off work.”
They seemed placated.
“OK. We'll let you know when your follow-up appointment is.”
“Thanks.”
The word was spoken but my mind was already embarked on a plan to stay awake all night. I was terrified of a visit from John and Sandra. I wouldn't put anything past them. After all, didn't everyone think that they were completely innocent? The women had left and shut the door. I struggled to keep my eyes open for about ten minutes then gave in.
When I woke up, Shiralee sat beside me and Ellis stood in the corner of the room. Shiralee's dark eyes were sullen and mournful. She turned to look at Ellis in her graceful, slow-motion way.
“She's awake now. You go for a coffee, Ellis. I'll look after her while you have a break.” She looked at a spot on the right-hand side of my pillow and offered an explanation for her presence. “The police phoned me. Apparently, I'm your next of kin with you and Ellis not being married.”
Ellis smirked.
“No thanks. I'll wait here.”
She stared at him and shook her head.
“OK then, be a martyr. I just wanted to have some time alone with Mummy.”
Ellis sighed.
“Oh, I bet you do. But no one will be having time alone with Mummy now. I'll be with her twenty-four seven until I find out who did this to her.”
Shiralee snorted.
“She did it to herself. She did it. What do you mean, who did it to her?”
Ellis r
eddened.
“She didn't swallow Valium or inject herself. Someone else did it.”
Shiralee's head spun to face me. Her black hair moved across her face with the motion, then rested on her shoulders. A deep, Swiss Steve-like frown played on her forehead.
“What's this now, Mum? Why are you saying this? Dad told me you... you...”
I sat up.
“Tried to top myself? No, I'll leave the am-dram to someone else. I was attacked.”
She sniffed.
“So, someone attacked you with Valium and smack? If only I were so lucky.”
I nodded.
“Well, that's only part of the story. Actually, I’m quite bruised. I didn't do that to myself now, did I?”
She moved closer.
“What do you mean, bruised?”
I shook my head.
“Well, you know. Bruises. Someone has hit me. Or kicked me. Hard. Someone has battered me and left me for dead.”
I shocked myself with the utterance of the words. Somewhere deep inside, a monster shifted, one that had slept for a long time. I felt a little liberated, a little freer, that I had been able to form a sentence out of the unspeakable abstraction of assault. The words that were usually, outside medical circles, whispered in hushed tones, as if it was somehow wrong to say them even in the presence of serious injury. I had, for once, spoken tabooed truth to my alienated daughter. She stared at me more now, and for longer. Her frown intensified and she pouted daintily. Even now, I marvelled at her inability to feel any concern for my welfare, always eager to lay blame. Ellis looked at me for an explanation but Shiralee continued to speak.
“I don't believe you. Dad said....”
“Oh well, shall I get the doctor? If you don't believe me, I'll get them to show you. Obviously, your Dad isn't in full possession of all the details. Again.”
Ellis fumed in the corner.
“Why don’t you just tell her, Jinny? Tell her who did it.”
I half smiled and half felt sorry for Shiralee. It would probably be a long process but she was about to embark on a journey that would brand her father a liar and a cheat. I smiled inside at this concept, then questioned why. Did I want to win so badly? Did I care what Swiss Steve thought and felt? If I did, why was that? Or, did I just want to walk away from it all? I pictured the scene: Ellis and I walking hand in hand into the distance. Forgetting all about the family squabbles, the cottage, John Baxter and everything that surrounded us. This was definitely my preferred option. But Ellis pressed on.
“Go on, Jinny. Tell her.”
I leaned back and Shiralee leaned forward, her huge brown eyes widening and her jaw slackening, ready for the gossip she could quickly carry back to her father.
“It was John Baxter. I was at his house when this happened.”
She snorted a short burst of laughter. Then a longer burst.
“John? Are you kidding? He’s the nicest, most gentle man I’ve ever met. You can’t be serious, Mum?”
Ellis walked towards her.
“Yes. John. In fact, Uncle John. He’s your mother’s brother, Shiralee. I bet you didn’t know that either?”
She stuttered in shock.
“What do you mean? He was your brother? No. You don't have a brother. I would have known. Dad would have told me.”
She looked a little doubtful now, her poker mask slipping ever so slightly.
“John Baxter is my brother.” I heard myself say the words that even now seemed false. “He admitted it to me.”
“But... I don't understand. Gran was married to him, her own son? Was he adopted at birth or something?”
I remembered that as Shiralee had never done an honest day’s work in her life, she was the queen of live agony-aunt shows and in particular, Jeremy Kyle. I tried to imagine the proliferation of scenarios collecting in her imagination as to how John could be my brother.
“No. His father was my father. Granddad.”
“So Granddad was having an affair, like Dad said? And John’s the result of it? Well, if that’s the case, why did he marry Gran? Did she know about this?”
I breathed heavily now.
“Of course not. No one knew, except John and his mum. They wanted Granddad to leave Grandma and move in with them. After she confined herself to the chair, he couldn’t keep up. So, he smoked himself to death. Mum got everything, everything they thought they should have.”
“So, Sandra was grandad's mistress? I don't believe it. John took me to her house. She seems really nice.”
An acid taste hit my mouth as I realised that both Jupiter and Shiralee had been around these two bitter, murderous psychopaths. Shiralee had even been to Sandra's house? I wanted to grab her and shake her and ask her if Sandra, or John, had done her any harm. Yet it seemed inappropriate that my motherly feelings could impact on the cold, calculating creature that sat before me.
“She's not really nice, Shiralee. She's a murderer. She poisoned your gran because she's a bitter, psychotic woman who has raised her son to hate us because of a decision my father took. But, unfortunately for them, their little plan failed with me and I didn't die. Obviously, like my mother, they tried to make it look like suicide. But it didn't work with her either, so she stabbed her.” My mouth was dry as images of my dying mother infiltrated my already drug-addled brain. “Except by the time they realised I was not dead it was too late, they'd already dumped me in the toilets at Victoria.”
Shiralee looked uncertain now. She knew that what I said made sense, summed up the situation and was, in fact, the truth. I could almost see her mind ticking over, calculating which side she should take, which would provide the best financial outcome for her. She looked at me and then at Ellis.
“You made it up. You two made it up!”
“Why would I? What have I to gain from it? I don’t care either way. All I want to do now is get out of this fucking hospital and go home. Home, where me and Ellis live, Shiralee. Away from the whole frigging lot of it. I’ve had enough. Oh, and I will see that John Baxter gets what he deserves. Exactly what he deserves. His mother, too.”
She grabbed her coat from the back of the chair and flounced out of the room in a blur of black and a waft of Yarris. Ellis sat on the now vacant chair.
“Well, that went well. Feeling better, are we?”
I half smiled.
“Uh-huh. The doctor or whoever she was said that I could go home tomorrow. No lasting damage except...”
“The assault.”
“Yes. Two women came in while you were asleep and explained what had happened. They examined me when I was admitted. Off my head.”
Ellis raised his eyebrows. I turned my head away in embarrassment. He leaned over onto the bed.
“It’s not your fault, Jin, nothing to do with you. Out of your control, so you couldn’t have possibly done anything about it.”
I turned back and looked into his eyes.
“So, you believe me then?”
He scoffed loudly
“Of course. It’s not as if you even know what happened. I mean, you have a fair idea, but it would be impossible for you to verify any of the details as you were unconscious. Right?”
“Right.”
I held onto his hand and realised that I still hadn’t cried. Through all this, my mother’s murder, finding out about John, and waking up to my worst nightmare, I still hadn’t cried. I felt tired now. I squeezed Ellis’ hand and made sure he was OK.
“Can we lock the door?”
He sat up straight.
“Do you think he’ll come here?”
I nodded quickly.
“He obviously knows that I’m alive and well. He’ll know that I’ve been telling the police about him being my brother and that I think he did this. I wouldn’t put anything past him.”
Ellis sighed.
“I don’t think the police believe you. And when they go to see him, he’ll be there in the church polishing his crucifixes, all rosy cheeked, the opposite of what
a murderer looks like, with his mum arranging the fucking flowers. We’ve got a long road ahead of us with this, Jinny. A long road.”
I thought for a moment before I spoke. I knew that Ellis wasn’t as strong as he made out. He needed my support as much as I needed his. He wedged a chair behind the door so someone could still get in but there would be a loud crash when the chair fell over.
“I’ve come to a decision, El. I decided. I’m going to give the cottage to John Baxter and his mum. I can’t win this one. I don’t even think I’ve got enough fight in me. It would be better to drop the complaint and just give him the house. We don’t need it. We’ve got each other.”
He smiled sweetly.
“Don’t be soft. You can’t drop it anyway. If we don’t make them see that he did this, they’ll charge you with possession of heroin. It’s a class A, Jinny, so you’ll go straight to jail without passing go. You’ll lose your job, and we’ll have to move out of London to escape the bloody circling vultures who wouldn’t ever let it drop. And you’d always know that it wasn’t true. Is that what you want?”
“Do I have a choice?”
He shook his head and lay on the bed next to my sore, battered body. He placed his head on my shoulder and his hand on my stomach and slowed his breathing until it was deep and low. He knew that this relaxed me and once again we were symbiotic. I dozed in and out of sleep until the morning light filtered dimly through the blinds. Every slight noise, every step outside the door had me jumping out of my skin and I wanted to go home to my bed. I pictured the raspberry duvet cover and the plump white pillows in the understated room.
I drifted away again.
Suzzy luvs Robert 4 eva.
A pair of bright blue fluttering eyes, blinking over and over.
My head felt less sore now but the pain of my bruises was more intense. The door rattled and Ellis jumped up. The chair toppled over and a petite blonde nurse came in.
“Pain killer, Mrs Munro.”
It wasn’t a question as much as an order, spat out in the harshest way possible.
“Thanks.”
I took them and swallowed. I wished that they would take the pain away. Of course, they would relieve some of the physical pain, but as the sun rose, so did the realisation that I would have to face another day of accusations and revelations. My weakened body sank into the mattress at the thought of it and now I actually did feel like crying. I tried to summon the tears that were on the brink, but somehow the barrier between their prison and their release seemed deeper and more impenetrable.
