Cheap White Meat

by Alex Flynn

  ‘I’ve had some stuff going on. Getting it sorted. Slowly.’

  Mum looks worried. They’ve not told her. This is going to be awkward. If we’re going to have any sort of future together when do I tell her that I’ve been sexually abused?

  ‘They must have told you something about what’s been going on in my life?’ I ask.

  Mum shakes her head. She covers her eyes and looks away, trying to blink her tears away. I pick up the box of tissue that is on the side and go over to Mum, offering her one. She takes a tissue and dabs her eyes with it gently, like she’s trying to show that she wasn’t properly crying.

  This reminds me of the time when Mum had to sit me down in front of the fireplace one night and tell me that my granddad had died. I was only 5 at the time but I can still remember it now. I remember sort of understanding what dying meant and trying to get some words out in between the tears.

  Except this time it’s me doing the comforting. The one putting their arm around the shoulder and saying that everything will be okay.

  ‘So, you going to put me in the picture?’ Mum asks.

  I don’t know where to begin. Should I start with something positive like I’ve somehow made a couple of friends in Jack and Lucy, and I’ve finally found a carer who can deal with me in Sandra? I look over at the prison guard. She’s pretending to be staring straight ahead at nothing in particular but I know that she’s listening to every word we say. It’s her job to gather evidence. Just in case Mum says something that means she can’t be released. After all, what would this woman do about her mortgage repayments and summer holidays if every prisoner just fitted back into society upon release?

  ‘Shall we start with me then,’ Mum asks, ‘if you don’t know where to start?’

  I nod my head.

  ‘They’ve found me a house to live in not far from here. I’ve to go on a training course but I hope to be working again in a few months time.’

  ‘I don’t want to stay around here.’

  I look at Mum, checking to see if her eyes say, “Well, I wasn’t really planning on you coming to live with me.”

  ‘Oh,’ she says. ‘I thought that you’d be settled around here.’

  ‘Too much has gone on.’

  Even though it would mean starting again, totally from scratch, away from Jack and Lucy, and even Sandra, I need to get away from this area. There’s too many bad memories. I’ve got on the wrong side of a very close-knit community and if any of them find out who I am then I could be in danger.

  Lucy told me a story about a girl who a year ago came forward to the police. She dropped her allegation though soon after. The official line was that there wasn’t a case to answer. However, in another part of the country, two men were convicted of witness intimidation in a case very similar. Lucy thinks the same thing happen with that girl. Of course, she can’t prove it, but when I mentioned it to Dan he gave his none committal police answer of, “I can’t comment on individual cases.” Roughly translated, that means; “It happened. But it would go against our precious political correctness to investigate the matter in any more detail.”

  ‘Maybe I should have a word with your Key Workers. Is it Mrs Robinson who’s in charge of your case?’

  ‘No,’ I squeal. ‘Don’t ask her.’ The last thing I want is Mrs Robinson trying to explain to Mum how they’ve done everything they could for me but in the end I was just too ungrateful.

  ‘Oh, it’s just she’s the person I have to write to. I thought she was in charge.’

  ‘She is. It’s just that she’s got no personality. She won’t tell you the truth. Talk to Sandra. She understands me.’

  Mum looks over at her prison guard. ‘Do you want me to talk to her now?’

  ‘It’s up to you.’

  ‘Well, it is you I’ve come to see. But then I suppose I need to understand what’s been going on. You’ve changed so much.’

  ‘You still look the same.’

  I don’t know if Mum finds that comforting but that’s how I meant it. Mum gives the nod to the prison guard who opens the door and Sandra appears within seconds. I’m asked if everything is okay and Mum fills Sandra in, saying that she wants to have a word with her alone. Sandra asks me if that’s okay with me. When I say it is Sandra suggests that I wait in my bedroom and she’ll come and get me when she’s ready.

  Chapter Seven

  I try to settle down and read a book whilst listening to the radio but everything is getting on my nerves. What if I’ve just made a huge mistake? What if hearing about what I’ve been up to ruins everything Mum had planned. Ruins everything for both of us. I think about calling Jack but what can he do to help? Plus, he’s probably busy listening to morons paraphrase him. I’ve just got to sit here and hope for the best.

  Sit and wait.

  And wait.

  Finally Sandra enters my room. I’m half expecting her to say that Mum’s gone for the day. Instead, she asks me if I’m ready. I ponder asking Sandra about what’s been discussed but she seems in a hurry to get me back to the Interrogation Zone.

  Mum’s stood pacing around the room when I return. Straight away she makes a bee line for me and hugs me tightly. I hug her back but I look up at the prison guard in case we’re breaking the law or something.

  ‘Why didn’t you tell me?’ Mum asks. We both look up at the same time and laugh because it’s not really important now. What is important is that Mum knows and she hasn’t slapped me for being so stupid and told me that she doesn’t want anything to do with me again.

  ‘I told you that men are bastards. Do you remember?’

  ‘Yeah, I remember.’

  Mum finally releases me from her grasp and sits down on the sofa. I sit down, this time next to her, and let her hold my hand.

  ‘You’ve been very brave,’ she says.

  ‘Have I?’

  ‘Of course. There’s plenty of women I know who’ve been the victim of rape who won’t come forward.’

  ‘It wasn’t proper rape,’ I start to say, but Mum stops me.

  ‘Sweetie,’ she says, stroking my hair behind my ear, ‘that man took advantage of you and then let his friends take advantage of you. For the last seven years I’ve had my sleep broken by the screams of women who’ve been forced to have sex against their will. And that’s from being assaulted by another women. So I dread to think what men are like.’

  I want to tell her that he never hurt me, but I don’t know why I still want to stick up for Adam all the time. My time with Adam might not have been that bad but I feel so ashamed at the thought of what I had to do with his “friends”. I also get a sinking feeling when I think that Mum might have been one of the women who’ve been forced to have sex against their will, but today’s not really the day to bring that up. Instead, I squeeze Mum’s hand and say:

  ‘Thank you.’

  ‘What for?’

  ‘For understanding. Not freaking out. Not hating me.’

  ‘I don’t hate you Jennifer. No matter what happens, I could never hate you.’

  Mum puts my head on her shoulder but I feel guilty. It seems that deep down I’m determined to put that to the test one way or another.

  ‘Can I come and see you again?’ Mum asks.

  ‘If you want.’

  Mum laughs and says, ‘We could maybe go out somewhere. Be better than just being stuck in here.’

  ‘Would it just be the two of us?’ I ask, looking over at the prison guard.

  ‘Not at first. We’d have to take things slow. You can bring Sandra, and your friends as well. I’d like to meet them. Although I’m not really sure what a twenty-odd-year old man sees in you.’

  ‘It’s a long story. He’s sort of my unofficial social worker. And Jack doesn’t like me like that.’

  ‘But you wish he did?’

  ‘Mum,’ I say, as I feel myself burn up.

  ‘You’ve always got along better with boys t
han girls. What was the name of your friend at school?’

  She knows it’s Matt. She just wants me to say his name to see if I start blushing again.

  ‘You ever wonder what he looks like now. I remember that his dad was pretty cute.’

  ‘Mum.’

  ‘What? He wasn’t still with Matt’s mum. He did take me out once but it wouldn’t have worked. He wasn’t one for kids getting in the way.’

  I’ve always hated it when Mum starts talking about her old boyfriends. One, it reminds me of Gavin. And two, I’m scared she’s going to start mentioning a relationship she was in about 16 years ago. I can’t ever remember her mentioning my dad, whoever he may be. I’m sure Mum knows though. She’s not like that.

  ‘I’ve got to go soon. But it’s been really good seeing you. I always regretted losing contact with you but I was in a really bad place.’

  I want to tell her that it’s okay but I don’t really know what to say. But I know that I don’t want her to go. The prison guard opens the door and Sandra appears when she’s whistled for. I’m expecting to be able to walk Mum to her car but it soon becomes clear that Sandra wants me to leave the room so that I don’t see Mum put back in handcuffs. That wouldn’t bother me because I’ve seen Mum in handcuffs loads of times but I don’t want to cause a scene today.

  Mum kisses me on the cheek and says, ‘Can I call you?’

  I look at Sandra, who nods at me, so I say, ‘Yeah, that would be good.’

  Mum hugs me again, tighter than I can ever remember being hugged before, and kisses the top of my head. I don’t deserve this. I’ve been such a bitch my whole life.

  ‘I’m going to make it up to you.’

  ‘You don’t have anything to make up to me Mum.’

  ‘Yes I do. I didn’t put you first.’

  ‘It doesn’t matter.’

  I can hear Mum start to cry and that sets me off. I don’t want to let go of her but I feel so uncomfortable with Sandra and the prison guard watching us. I release my arms from around Mum and she finally lets me breath again.

  ‘I call you,’ she says.

  ‘Okay.’

  I feel Sandra’s arm on my shoulder and I move away from Mum. I want to say something comforting to her but I’ve suddenly gone mute again. Sandra leads me out of the Interrogation Zone but makes me walk in front of her like she doesn’t want me to look behind.

  ‘Come on, you can see her soon.’

  I suddenly get what Mum meant by saying that she’s hoping to get a place not far from here. It would mean that I could visit her easily. Maybe stop over the odd night. After all, we’ve got to take things slowly. I’m still under observation, I’m not likely to get signed off and be let free to roam the streets as I please just because my Mum’s been released from prison.

  Sandra keeps on encouraging me to keep on walking but I want to turn round and apologise to Mum. Apologise for being so rude for saying that I didn’t want her to live round here. She was only doing it for me. I’m sure if she had a choice of where to make a fresh start for herself in the country then it wouldn’t be around here.

  I mean what hope has she got for the future? Getting a job on the minimum wage working in a shop or a bar somewhere. I really have ruined her life and despite that she still wants me to be a part of it. She still insists that she’s the one to blame. That she’s the one who has let me down.

  I make it back to my room and Sandra asks if I want some time alone, to think. I don’t know what I want at the moment. I feel like I’m stuck in a nowhere place. Waiting for someone to make a decision about what’s going to happen in the rest of my life.

  It’s like I’m waiting for someone to arrive with two envelopes in their hand. And I’ve got to choose one. In one envelope will be the chance of a normal life. A life of freedom. Jobs. Days out. Boyfriends. Maybe even a family of my own.

  But in the second envelope there’s a life of mental illness. Carers. Not being trusted to look after myself. A life where the only people who talk to me are the ones who are paid to because it’s their job.

  I know which one I want. Which one I need. But I’ve got a nagging feeling in the back of my mind that even if I chose the first envelope I’d still end up messing it all up. I seem to have some innate ability for that.

  When I’ve still not given her an answer, Sandra opens my bedroom door for me and follows me in, sitting down on my bed with me.

  ‘I know it’s a lot for you to take in all at once. For both of you.’

  ‘What did you tell Mum?’

  ‘I just told her the basics. Didn’t go into too much detail because it’s pretty upsetting to hear at the best of times. But your mum seems really nice. I’ve worked with a lot of parents who want to have access again to their children but you can tell that they were putting on a front. But your mum’s not like that.’

  ‘She’s hoping to get a house near here.’

  ‘And you told her not to bother.’

  ‘I didn’t mean it like that. I meant for the future. I didn’t understand properly. I want to tell her I’m sorry.’

  ‘It’s okay. She said that she’d phone you.’

  ‘What if she doesn’t though?’

  ‘Of course she will. She came all this way to see you. And she didn’t want to let you go, did she?’

  I put her arms around myself, trying to remember what it felt like to be hugged by Mum. I want to believe what Sandra’s saying but nothing good every happens in my life.

  Chapter Eight

  I think there’s a phone call for me when Sandra comes bounding into my room. Instead, she tells me that Dan and superior are here to see me. Things must be getting serious if they’ve brought in the bloke who normally sits behind a desk all day getting into debt on internet poker sites.

  Mrs Robinson is also in the Interrogation Zone when I get there but I don’t think I’m in the mood for this today. I’m not in the mood for going all the way back to the beginning again and explaining what I got up to. Sandra also has a mountain of paperwork with her so no doubt they’ll keep me here for hours today.

  Dan’s superior introduces himself like I’m supposed to be impressed by the number of fancy words and letters he’s got in front of his surname. He says that he’s pleased to finally meet me and that he’s heard a lot about me. To be honest, he sounds like he’s my imaginary boyfriend’s dad, and he dresses just as bad.

  ‘How did it go with your mum?’ Dan asks.

  I give Sandra a quick glance, just to check if I should answer that, like she’s my big-shot lawyer, and say, ‘Fine.’

  ‘It’ll be nice for you to have some support for when the trials on.’

  Why, what’s going to happen Dan? Am I going to be made to stand up in court and tell my version of what happened whilst Adam and his “friends” are stood in the dock glaring at me?

  No.

  I don’t even have to attend the trial. All my evidence will be given before hand and I’ll identify Adam and his “friends” through pictures. Apparently, this is to cause me as little amount of stress as possible because of my vulnerable situation, but I’ve still got to go through everything in minute detail, just in case there is anything significant that I’ve missed out. Just like the last time.

  I can tell that Dan’s superior is from the old school of policing. He doesn’t like my “attitude” and probably thinks I’m being mollycoddled. But if he’s as superior as he thinks he is, and he’d have been doing his job right in the first place, then he wouldn’t be sat here now preparing for a type of case that should have gone before the courts years ago.

  It’s okay for this guy, he’s arse-licked and bullied his way through the police system for decades to get into a position where he doesn’t have to live in the real world any more. I’m not a person to him. I’m an inconvenience.

  If the outcome of this trial is a public success then he’ll be the first one to take the
plaudits. However, if Adam and his “friends” are acquitted and the public question why tax payers money was spent on the trial in the first place then he’ll lay the blame at me and Lucy. Saying that we’re dregs of society who ruin every chance they get in life.

  Because she’s finally got a chance to ask someone who’s supposed to be in charge, Sandra asks Dan’s superior why Adam and his “friends” are on bail before the trial date.

  ‘Due to the nature of the case.’

  And what nature would that be? The nature where you’re too scared to take things too seriously in case you have to apologise unreservedly to the precious “community”.

  Sometimes it doesn’t feel like it’s nine men who are going to be on trial but a whole group of people. Men, women and children, from past and present. And not just from the local “community”, but from the country as a whole and even the world to a lesser extent. But it shouldn’t be like that. If it was Dan and his “friends” who were waiting trial then they’d have been shunned from society and if they were on bail they would have to be in hiding for their own safety.

  However, Adam and his “friends” seem to be being treated like martyrs within their community. The victims of a modern day witch-hunt. Because women now supposedly have equal rights then the vigilantly mob has to find someone else to attack. It’s like they’re questioning how we can have the tenacity to even suggest that a number of them have committed some crimes.

  Dan shows me the pictures of the other men who are going to be on trial. I recognise some of their faces but not their names. This frustrates Dan’s superior. Well, I suppose that if it had happened to him then he would have made notes at the time, just in case something like this happened in the future.

  ‘We need your evidence to be 100% accurate,’ Dan’s superior says. ‘Otherwise we’re not going to get the convictions, or sentences, that the resources we’ve allocated to this case require.’

  So that’s how the police work is it? Is there a little PowerPoint presentation that is given to all new police recruits? For every hour they work they’re expected to make one arrest or hand out some on the spot fine for riding a bike on the pavement. For every ten hours they spend on a particular case they’re expecting a custodial sentence of at least one year.