by Gemma Rogers
Helen had a profile on Facebook but hers was set to private so I could only see her main photo. It was recent, last summer maybe, in a pub beer garden. Wearing sunglasses with a bottle of Corona in her hand.
Just as I was about to log off, I had an idea and typed Karla’s name into the search box. Hundreds of Karlas came up; I don’t think I’d ever heard her surname mentioned. Sighing, I closed the internet down, aware my stomach was rumbling loudly. Lunchtime had arrived and I hadn’t eaten yet today.
I couldn’t hang around the library, although I was tempted for the warmth. There was no point, it closed soon, and I couldn’t get a new library card as I had no way to prove my address. No bills in my name. I was anonymous. A nobody.
I popped into the bakers for a sausage roll and ate it outside whilst I waited for the bus to take me home. My eyes darted around the busy high street, sizing up the faces passing by to see if there was anyone I knew, or who might recognise me, but there wasn’t. I stayed in the alcove of the boarded-up sportswear shop to keep out of sight until the double-decker bus rumbled into view.
The bus dropped me practically outside my new home and I let myself in, annoyed I’d forgotten to buy teabags. At least it gave me something to do tomorrow. Visiting Mum would have to wait until I knew Helen wouldn’t be there.
‘Jess.’ A knock at the door followed Stuart’s voice. He must have heard me come back.
I sighed and turned off the almost boiling kettle.
‘Hey,’ I said, swinging open the door. I could see Stuart look over my shoulder and I opened the door wider so he could see I hadn’t wrecked the place. I didn’t mind. It was his rental and he’d let me stay, not knowing me from Adam, with only the word of my sister to vouch for me.
‘Hi, you all right?’ He shoved his hand in his pockets and I tried not to smile. He was reserved, and I was sure he felt awkward around me. The convicted offender.
‘Yeah fine, you?’ I asked.
‘Yes thanks. Just wanted to let you know in case I don’t catch you tomorrow, I’m away Monday and Tuesday, so if you can keep an eye on the house, I’d appreciate it. You’ve got my number if you need it.’
I nodded, I had it written down somewhere, although I hadn’t put it in my phone yet.
‘Sure, no worries,’ I said, and we exchanged smiles.
‘Oh, and this is for you.’ He stepped to the side, back up to his front door and returned with a small silver microwave.
‘Thanks, Stuart, that’s amazing.’ I grinned, rolling onto the balls of my feet, excited at no longer having to eat pasta pots.
I backed up, letting him pass and he carried it into my room, placing it on the worktop of the kitchenette.
‘No bother,’ he said, before going back outside.
He stood staring for a moment longer than necessary, the silence stretching out until I was compelled to fill it. Social interactions with him were excruciating, he was painfully shy. Helen told me on the drive from Bronzefield that Stuart’s mum had passed away and his dad had just gone into a home as he had stage five Alzheimer’s disease. The house belonged to his parents and Stuart was slowly modernising it. The garage had been his first big project. Judging from the workmanship, he still had a lot to learn.
‘Where are you going? Anywhere nice?’ I asked, my voice a higher pitch than normal.
‘Bloody team building at work. Down to Lewes. I’m dreading it.’ He grimaced. My ears pricked up.
‘Oh no. Has Helen got to go too?’
He blushed at the mention of her name. ‘Yeah, she’s organised it. Poor cow, it’ll be like herding cats.’
I clenched my jaw to stop the smile threatening to escape.
‘Well, try and enjoy it if you can. I’ll look after things here,’ I said as Stuart turned to go back in the main house, giving me a wave over his shoulder. ‘Thanks again for the microwave,’ I called to his retreating back.
Once the door was shut, I leaned against it, closing my eyes, unable to stop the smile spreading across my face. On Monday, after work, I’d see Mum.
I spent Sunday sorting out my clothes and bagging up what needed to go to the launderette. The bag was heavy, but the launderette was only ten minutes away. I managed to get the washing machine going and popped to the Co-Op to get some milk, teabags and stock up on microwave meals. I just had enough time to dash home to drop it off and rush back before the cycle finished. I wouldn’t have been able to manage the washing and the shopping on my own.
The bedsit was Baltic, even with the halogen heater cranked up. January’s freeze was upon us and I wrapped up in my duvet, snuggling the hot-water bottle to read The Enchanted Wood. I read a lot of children’s books inside. Their library was well stocked with books for all age ranges and abilities, but I leaned towards books from my childhood for comfort. On the outside, I had devoured crime and thrillers, but after my sentencing I couldn’t face them. I considered carrying on with my A-Level English Literature text, Wuthering Heights, but it felt too painful. A reminder of the life I’d left behind.
Some prisoners couldn’t read at all and many were at primary or junior school level. I found I was quite good at teaching, picking texts for some of the girls to read. Helping them with the language and trying to excite them with books. I got a bit of a name for myself and every day I would be visited by someone wanting help with a letter or another book that would stretch them; Darcy came every chance she got. It kept me going and no one hassled me after that. In fact, they teased me for the children’s books, knowing I could read just fine, but I wanted to be transported back to happier times.
I remember Mum reading The Gruffalo whilst we snuggled up on the sofa under a blanket. Helen playing with her Barbies and pretending not to listen but getting drawn in towards the end of the story, when the mouse triumphed. I still knew the words off by heart. It was a lifetime ago now, memories tarnished by my later teenage years.
I’d grown up a lot inside, spent my twenty-first birthday in my cell on lockdown as there was a riot on C wing over the post not being delivered. I’d had no cards or presents; the best part of the day was Big Brenda from the tuck shop sneaking me a packet of Jaffa Cakes before lights out.
Things would change now I was out. I’d paid my debt to society. I just had to cling on for a few more months, six to be precise. Six months of keeping my nose clean and out of trouble. Barry would sign me off and I could leave, maybe follow Karla down to the coast. Start again as someone new. Someone who didn’t have blood on her hands.
6
After the weekend shutdown, the temperature plummeted further, and the warehouse was cold initially until all the machines were working. The mood was strangely sombre, although perhaps it was just me. I’d pushed the thought of the missing money Barry mentioned out of my mind over the weekend. Now back at Bright’s, I was skittish and couldn’t wait to get out of there. Karla noticed I wasn’t on the ball and threw a towel she was folding across the table at me.
‘Catch,’ she said, laughing as it hit me square in the face.
I scowled and threw it back.
‘What you got your knickers in a twist about?’
‘Nothing,’ I snapped and watched Karla’s mouth twitch, trying to suppress a laugh.
‘Is it Barry? That prick gets under everyone’s skin here, he’s a fucking snake doing Terry’s bidding. You’ll get used to him.’ She’d had a different story on Friday when she was annihilating his character.
‘Some money has gone missing?’ I said quietly and Karla threw her head back laughing, her tight curls bouncing on her shoulders. Her mass of hair made her head look too big for her body.
‘That old chestnut. We’ve all heard it. Don’t believe everything he says, Jess. He’ll tell you anything to get you to do what Terry wants.’
The slapping of shoes on concrete saw Karla jerk her head down and she resumed folding. I followed suit just as Terry rounded the corner.
‘Hanna, you got a minute?’ he called from behind me.
I clocked Hanna and Karla lock eyes, the fear in Hanna’s obvious to see. An icy grip took hold and my feet became lead, watching the silent exchange between the girls. The atmosphere in the room became palpable.
A second later, Hanna dropped her gaze to the floor and shuffled out of the warehouse after Terry.
Karla sighed and carried on folding; her movements robotic. She wasn’t laughing any more.
‘What was all that about?’ I asked.
‘It’s her turn is all. I’m going to the loo,’ she said, leaving her station before I could ask more. Her turn for what?
All day, I carried tension in my shoulders, gripped by an invisible force. Hanna and Karla spent some time outside smoking at lunchtime, huddled together. I wanted to join them, but I didn’t want to intrude. Hanna was clearly upset, and Karla’s expression was fierce, hands gesticulating wildly. Instead, I nibbled at my lunch next to Agnes: crackers for me, while she had soup.
‘Do you know what’s going on with Hanna? Why Terry wanted to see her?’ I asked, but Agnes shook her head vehemently like I’d just suggested playing chicken on the Purley Way. She quickly changed the subject to her mum’s visit at the weekend and the gifts she’d brought from Poland.
Before I left for the evening, Karla and I were removing our tabards and shrugging on our coats, preparing for the cold outside when Terry came out of his office carrying his briefcase.
‘See you tomorrow, girls,’ he said, a glint in his eye.
I smiled tightly and Karla muttered something unintelligible.
He strolled out, shoulders swaying, without a care in the world.
‘Who’s going to lock up?’ I asked, knowing there was a key code system at the front, but it had to be double-locked at night, surely?
‘Dunno, maybe he’ll be back. He’s always in that shitty casino down the road,’ Karla replied, stuffing her tabard into her locker. She seemed to know a lot about Terry. ‘Fancy a beer?’ she asked, her jovial mood returned now work was over for the day.
‘I can’t, got to visit my mum. Another time?’
Karla stared at me and grinned. ‘Yeah sure, no worries. Catch you tomorrow then.’
Outside, I waited for the 407 bus, it would take me halfway and then I’d have to walk the rest unless I waited for another bus. I was a ball of nervous energy and was looking forward to the exercise so I could figure out what I was going to say to Mum.
I checked my rucksack for the old set of keys I’d put in there this morning. Thankfully, they were still in the zip compartment and I had to hope Helen hadn’t changed the locks.
The 407 came and it was rammed with workers on their way home. I squeezed into the space by the door and clung on to the handrail, keeping my head down. Not making eye contact with anyone. Bumping into Gilby had made me wary of being recognised.
Bright headlights peppered the darkness outside through the steamed-up windows and every time the bus went around a corner a shot of cold air found its way through the gap in the door. I shuddered, pulling my coat in tighter and tucking my chin inside the collar. I risked glancing over my shoulder, but no one was looking at me. Most were glued to their phones or staring out of the window, but still I turned away, leaning against the glass partition as we neared my stop.
When the bus eased to a halt, I jumped off and walked as quickly as I could up the hill towards Thornton Road. At just gone six, the streets were still busy, which made me feel better about walking in the dark and at least it was dry. I stopped off at the fish and chip shop, Plaices, just before my old road. It was a monthly treat to get fish and chips when we were young. Would Mum be hungry? Helen would have left her something, I was sure, but the smell of batter made my stomach growl appreciatively and I bought a small cod and chips Mum and I could share.
Mouth salivating at the smell of vinegar, I clung on to the packet, grateful for the extra warmth. Two minutes later, I stood outside the door, all the blinds were down, but I could see light inside. I debated on ringing the bell. The last thing I wanted to do was scare Mum, but I didn’t want her trying to get to the door to answer it and potentially falling. I had no idea how mobile she was. Slipping the key out of my pocket, I put it in the lock, my heart speeding up as it turned with ease.
‘Mum,’ I called as I pushed it open, sighing with relief that the key worked. ‘It’s me, Jessica.’
I heard a mumble, followed by thudding footsteps. Convinced I was about to be confronted by an angry Helen, I closed the door behind me and stayed where I was.
A rotund woman appeared at the top of the stairs, the familiar creak on the third step as she descended. ‘Who are you?’ she asked in a brusque Nigerian accent.
‘I’m Jess. I’m Alice’s daughter. Who are you?’ Although the question was pointless as she came closer towards me into the light from the hallway and I could see she was wearing a navy tunic with white piping and a badge that read Grace.
‘Her daughter is away tonight. She called an extra carer in. Have I got the dates wrong?’ she tutted and pulled her phone out of her pocket.
‘No, no. That’s Helen, my sister. I’m Jess. I’ve been away for, well, a while and she doesn’t know I’m here.’
‘Okay, well, I’ve changed her sheets and she’s had a bath, she’s upstairs now. I was just coming down to prepare her dinner.’ Grace seemed put out I’d turned up out of the blue and ruined the flow of her routine. I’d caught her off guard.
‘You know, why don’t you go. I’ll feed Mum and put her to bed,’ I said with a weak smile and held up the now lukewarm chip wrapper.
She rolled her eyes and sucked her teeth loudly. ‘Okay, okay,’ she said, grabbing her coat and muttering to herself under her breath as she pulled open the front door.
‘I’m sorry to mess you around, but I’ll make sure you’ll get paid fully,’ I said, trying to appease her.
‘Thank you.’ She smiled, but it didn’t reach her eyes and it was already fading as she pulled the door shut behind her.
Checking it was locked, I headed into the kitchen and put the fish and chips on a plate. The house was warm and well lit. Even with the dated décor, it was soothing. Tucking a knife and fork under my arm, I climbed the stairs, hairs on the back of my neck standing to attention. I hadn’t seen Mum in four years, and I didn’t know if she wanted to see me now. According to Helen, she’d turned her back on me, but I ached desperately for the kind, funny and no-nonsense mum I remembered.
I turned the corner at the top of the stairs and pushed Mum’s bedroom door open. A frail woman I didn’t immediately recognise sat in a pink armchair. She was looking out of the window into the darkness, watching the light of the cars go up and down the road. As the door creaked, she turned to look at me, her mouth dropping open and a tiny amount of spit cascaded onto her chin. Eyes filling, I plastered a smile onto my face.
‘Helen? Is that you?’
7
‘No, Mum, it’s Jess,’ I said, rounding the bed and sitting opposite her.
Mum had changed so dramatically I couldn’t comprehend it at first. Her face looked drawn, the lines around her mouth had multiplied and deepened. Her bottom lip drooped slightly to the right, but the most upsetting was the lack of spark in her eyes. It had gone.
Mum was fiery, a force to be reckoned with, partly because she had to be. Raising two daughters single-handedly, one of whom had been more difficult than the other. Shame draped over me like a blanket as I grasped her leathery hand. Helen had been right to want me to keep away.
‘Jess?’ Mum’s eyes dampened and she squeezed my fingers.
‘I’ve missed you,’ I said, unable to stop the tears from falling.
She stroked my hair as I sank to my knees, laying my head in the folds of her dressing gown to sob.
‘I’m so sorry,’ I said eventually when I was able to speak
again.
‘You’re too skinny.’
I laughed at her observation.
‘You can talk!’ I pulled myself up and glanced at our dinner, wrapped up. ‘I bought us fish and chips, I’ll go and warm it up in the microwave.’ Mum smiled at me, her mouth slightly lopsided.
When I came back, I watched Mum eat half of the meal, just enough dexterity to stab at the food with a fork and feed herself. My heart shrank in my chest to see the enormous change.
‘Why didn’t you want me to visit Bronzefield?’ she asked gently when she’d finished eating and laid her fork down.
‘I did!’
Mum’s nostrils flared; confusion etched on her face.
‘Is that what she told you?’ All at once, the pieces fit together. ‘Did you not get any of my letters?’ I continued, balling my hands into fists so hard my nails dug into my palms. Mum didn’t stay away out of choice; Helen orchestrated it. The vicious bitch! How dare she.
Mum shook her head and sighed, spitting the words out like they tasted bad. ‘I thought it was some misguided attempt to protect us.’
‘Helen must have taken the letters I posted. Did she not give them to you?’
Mum shook her head. ‘I’m sorry I never came.’ She stared down at her cream fluffy slippers.
‘It’s okay, it doesn’t matter now. I’m back. Did you know I was being released?’
‘Yes, Helen told me. I made her promise that she’d get you set up. I told her you were welcome to stay here, but she wouldn’t hear of it.’
I gritted my teeth, what had I expected? As far as Helen was concerned, I was no longer welcome here. I stood, gathering the wrappings, aware of Mum’s woeful gaze. I could see she felt guilty but I didn’t know what else I could say to soothe her.
I took the plate downstairs and made us both a cup of tea. My blood turning to molten lava as it streamed through my veins. All the nights I’d laid in my bunk, praying Mum would visit and the crushing disappointment when she didn’t materialise the following day. The nights I’d wait until lights out to cry silently into my pillow at being disowned. Thrown away and forgotten about for one stupid mistake.
