Resentments and Revenge

by Diane Ezzard

  “After the incident with the police in the park, his behaviour got worse. He started having angry outbursts and going into a rage. I was convinced he was being bullied but he wouldn’t admit to anything. He got upset if I challenged him. Instead of coming home from school at 4 p.m. he began rolling in at 9 o’clock and he wouldn’t say where he’d been.

  I suspected he wasn’t at football practice. Something in his manner changed. He became secretive. I had seen it happen with a friend of his, Jensen. Jensen was hooked into the lifestyle of selling drugs in return for making a lot of money. It got him expelled from school.” I nodded. Christine continued.

  “Louie went from being a boy who wanted to train and play sports every night to lying on his bed at weekends. From then on, he couldn’t be bothered to go to the match. The more I cajoled him, the more he withdrew. The worst time was when he was found with a machete in his school bag.” I raised my eyebrows.

  “From then on, his behaviour went from being a placid, quiet boy to someone who became violent and thrashed out all the time both verbally and physically. He soon spiralled out of control. I suspected something sinister. My sleepless nights started. I wasn’t eating and I couldn’t concentrate on my job as a supervisor at Asda. I’m an emotional wreck, Sophie.” She started to cry again.

  “No, you’re not. This will pass. You will find the strength to get through.”

  I felt tearful myself when I recalled what she told me happened next. He didn’t come home from school one day after they’d had a tiff. She phoned everyone she knew. She described the emotional pain as the worst thing she had encountered in her life. The police believed his disappearance was linked to gang crime.

  No wonder she was in bits. She had seen what happened with Jensen. He disappeared nine months ago, at just fourteen years old. He was involved in petty crime for a year and again his behaviour got out of control. During our sessions, Christine told me Jensen and Louie were very close. They had been friends since primary school. One time, Jensen was at her house and she found drugs in his coat pocket. She wasn’t sure what to do. She didn’t tackle Jensen. Instead, she told his mum. Jensen absconded a short time later and was now wrapped up in criminal activities.

  Since that incident, Christine said she became obsessed with her son’s behaviour, watching his every move. Fear overwhelmed her that Louie would go the same way as Jensen. Now it looked like her worse nightmares had been realised. I wanted to help all I could, so I referred Christine to Jack, and he reluctantly took the case on.

  Chapter 3

  Jack

  “Hi, Christine it’s Jack North. Is it okay if I come over later? I’d like to look through Louie’s things and take down more details if you are home.”

  “Yes, that’s fine, Jack.”

  I put the phone down. I couldn’t imagine what it must feel like to have a missing son. Shaking my head, I thought about my own son, Ryan. He was eleven, a couple of years younger than his sister, Megan. For several years my ex-wife refused to let me see them because of my drinking.

  It didn’t stop me drinking. If anything, that got worse. I couldn’t cut down on the booze. That’s when I knew I was in trouble. It hurt like hell not having my kids in my life. Instead of doing the right thing, it gave me an excuse to drink more, as I wallowed in self-pity. I called Vivien all the names I could at the time. Now, looking back, I could see she protected them from my behaviour. I was an embarrassment, constantly drunk, even though I had a decent job as a police sergeant. I tried to keep things together but when she told me she wanted a divorce my world came crashing down. I had to move out of our beautiful home and into a bedsit. The fairy tale lifestyle I’d dreamt of was no more. My drinking escalated, and I went downhill at twice the speed of an express train.

  I had to lose almost everything before I reached my rock bottom. My job, house and family went, but I finally surrendered and got help. I had to fight Vivien tooth and nail to get access to see the children. It was a long and hard battle through the courts. Now the kids came to stay every other weekend. My relationship with Vivien had its ups and downs but thankfully, Megan and Ryan still wanted me in their lives, so she hadn’t totally poisoned their minds against me. I’d been fortunate, and I overcompensated when I saw them if I could afford to. I didn’t have much spare cash, but it all went on them. It helped me some way in coping with the guilt I felt for what I put them through.

  I arrived at Christine’s home an hour later. It was one of the better-kept council properties. There was a blossom tree in the front garden that had a robin sitting on its bare branch. Christine was a single parent, and it made me realise how difficult it must have been for Vivien after I left. I’d always been too selfish to think about anyone else but sometimes people were put in my path to prick my conscience. When I first spoke to Christine, she told me when Louie disappeared, she thought he had gone to live with her ex, Louie’s dad. He had done that once before. That time, it didn’t last long. He got himself mixed up with a bad crowd, so his dad turfed him out and he returned to Christine’s.

  She confided in me that she was on benefits but did cleaning on the side to make ends meet. She trusted me to tell me that so I wouldn’t shop her. I didn’t know how anyone could afford to live on benefits. It was difficult enough on my meagre earnings. My only vice these days was an odd flutter on the football scores. Thankfully, there were enough cheating spouses to keep me solvent.

  Christine lost her supervisor’s job at Asda. She took too much time off looking for Louie. She said the worry made her ill with stress and depression. At least now she could fit her cleaning job around searching for him with the limited means she had. I was surprised she could afford my services but if she came up with the money, then I wouldn’t question where she got it from.

  “Come in, Jack, are you having a drink?” I could smell the aroma of fresh coffee brewing in the kitchen.

  “Smashing, yeah. How are you, Christine?”

  “I’m still not sleeping but I suppose that’s not surprising. I keep wondering what Louie is up to but I’m positive he’s alive though.” She scratched her head.

  “I’m sure you’re right, I mean, the pair of you had argued when he walked out, hadn’t you?” Putting a hand over her mouth, she nodded.

  “I know, and I can’t forgive myself for that. Do you mind if I smoke?” It didn’t bother me. I stopped five years ago.

  “No, whatever helps you. You’re not alone regarding your sleeping. I rarely have a good night’s sleep. Do you take anything for it?”

  “Yeah, I’ve got tablets from the doctor, but I don’t want to become dependent on them.” Watching her, she took a lighter out of the pocket of her faded jeans and lit up.

  “I know what you mean. I have to watch for stuff like that, having an addictive nature.”

  We had a brew after exchanging small talk. I asked if she could show me to Louie’s room. She escorted me up the stairs. The house smelled of bleach and polish. I’d been in the homes of single women before and there were generally several half-finished jobs needing doing. Christine’s house was spotless, and nothing needed fixing. It put my place to shame. I guessed she had a fella who mended things. I was wrong.

  “I’ve just finished decorating the hall and landing. I need to keep myself busy. Decorating takes my mind off things.”

  “Wow, what an excellent job. How did you manage up the stairs?”

  “I borrowed some ladders,” she grinned. “I watched how to do it on YouTube, plus I love those DIY programmes. It’s not a bad job, is it?”

  “You’ve done a bloody marvellous job. You can do my place next.” We laughed and walked into Louie’s room. It was typical of many teenage boys’ rooms. The colour scheme was grey with blacked out curtains. The posters on the wall were black and white with a picture of Al Capone taking pride of place. There was a single white cabinet with a bedside lamp sitting on top. He had a wardrobe with sliding doors which I opened and looked inside — clothes, shoes, some sp
orts designer stuff. He appeared to have an interest in the occult but that was often a phase. I remember myself being into horror in a big way in my teens. I read all of Stephen King’s books and watched all the films before I became more interested in drinking and girls.

  I flicked through some of the books on his shelf. There were also school books there. I glanced through them. He went to a Catholic school, and he’d written that he didn’t believe in God. I wondered what his teacher made of his work. Maybe he’d done it to shock, saying he followed the teaching of the devil. I thought about our Ryan and decided I’d ask to see his school books next time I saw him.

  “Did he have a girlfriend?” I asked.

  “No, since he started hanging around with the older boys, he changed. I found a load of porn mags under his bed.”

  “Did he have a computer or a phone?”

  “Yes, but I don’t know how he came by them. He didn’t get them from me. I went mad when he brought them home, but he told me to chill. There was something going on because he started buying clothes. I asked him where he got his money. He said it was none of my business.”

  She took the laptop out of his desk drawer. “Here, Jack. Do you want to look at this?”

  “Does he have a password?” I asked opening the lid.

  “No, I don’t think so.” I fired up the computer and had a glance over it. I wasn’t an expert on IT, but I could work my way around one and had learnt a few tricks over the years for finding documents, sometimes hidden. There was nothing significant on his machine.

  I scanned the bookcase looking for photographs or paper with phone numbers on. Nothing turned up.

  “I saw him one day talking to that Dom Duggan. When I realised who it was, I went cold. I thought if he’s got his claws into my Louie, then I’ve lost him. I couldn’t compete with his drug money.”

  “So, you know Dom Duggan then?”

  “Everyone knows the Duggans around here.” I nodded.

  “And Louie’s phone hasn’t been used since he left?”

  “No, but I’m not daft. They’ll have given him a new one.”

  “So, you’re convinced that’s where he is?”

  “I’m as sure as I can be. It makes sense now, with hindsight. His behaviour changed after he met those scumbags.” There was a silence between us, and Christine looked up. “And another thing,” she paused for a moment, “I’ve got a feeling he was taking drugs or selling drugs at school.”

  “Why do you think that?”

  “He went very secretive and wouldn’t let me in his bedroom, but I found tinfoil that had dropped under the bed one day.”

  “Did you challenge him?”

  “I didn’t. He’s a big lad now. He’s never hit me, but he’s come close a few times. Plus, I wanted to be sure, before I accused him. I bet the Duggans got him doing their dirty business for them in return for cash or goods or whatever it took to hook him in.”

  “Did he have any hobbies?”

  “That’s another thing, he used to be on the football team and in summer he played cricket, but he lost interest. He has a guitar he liked to play. He loved playing it, but he’s not taken it with him. Maybe they promised him a new one, I don’t know.”

  “So, the day he went, what happened?”

  “We had another row because I suspected he’d not been to school. He’d been wagging it for a while. I’d had a letter a few weeks earlier. He told me they must have got him mixed up with someone else, but I wasn’t stupid, I knew. And then, he didn’t return home at the right time, so I suspected he’d been playing truant and I questioned him. He snapped, called me all sorts of choice names, then he didn’t come home from school the next day. I noticed a few of his things had gone. He hasn’t been back since.”

  “Did you say one of his mates saw him getting into a gold coloured Merc?”

  “That’s right, Stuart who lives on the corner, he told me.”

  “Right,” I nodded, making a note of Stuart’s details.

  “When Brian and I split up, Louie took it hard. His behaviour changed, and he became unruly. To be honest, I was relieved when he said he wanted to live with his dad. He’d had enough of my constant nagging. The sad thing is, he is a bright lad.”

  Christine wiped a tear away. A box of tissues sat on the side. I passed her one. She blew her nose then passed me a photograph of Louie that was on the table.

  “Here, I found this. Take it, Jack. It’s a recent one.” I looked at the picture and could see the resemblance between Louie and his mum. They both had brown hair and a turned-up nose.

  “How are you coping?”

  “I’m so glad I met Sophie at the women’s centre. They have been very supportive, but it’s not easy. I hated the idea of Louie living with his dad when he went the first time. Now I’d be happy if that was where he was, but I don’t have a clue where he’s gone. Even though he wasn’t nice to be around, and I didn’t always like him, I miss him so much. He was such a caring, kind-hearted boy not so long ago. I can’t believe he’s probably got mixed up with the Duggans.” We exchanged a glance, and I nodded.

  “I will do what I can to help you get Louie back, Christine. No promises, mind.” She looked across at me and nodded. She didn’t know it, but the thought of getting something on the Duggans gave me an adrenalin rush. I’d love more than anything to get one over on Dom Duggan. That was something I’d dreamt about that for a long time.

  Chapter 4

  Sophie

  Once a month, I had supervision where I discussed ongoing cases, to ensure I worked safely. As a counsellor, it was an opportunity to bring up any work-related issues. Helen was a competent supervisor, and I respected her judgement. Her appearance was a breath of fresh air. She dressed like she was about to be whisked off to the beach any minute. In her mid-fifties, with over-processed white-permed long hair, she liked to wear bright lipstick and nails and always wore blue eyeshadow. Her floaty long charity shop dresses were always brightly coloured and floral.

  I watched as she settled into the rust-coloured velour tub chair opposite. She blended in well with the décor with her lime green outfit. Her wrists jangled with a selection of gold bangles as she ran her fingers through her hair. Crossing one leg over the other, she put her notes on her lap. It wasn’t warm enough for the open-toed sandals she wore but they matched her summer ensemble. Taking out her rimless glasses, she read through the summary of our previous session, looked up at me and smiled.

  “Good, so, how are things, Sophie?”

  “Okay, I love the new work I’ve been given and I’m enjoying the additional training.”

  “So, you’re not finding it too much for you?”

  “To be honest, I wish I’d continued my studies sooner. After I finished my degree, I was keen on getting a job and earning money again. I’ve got the background experience now. I’m glad the centre set up this initiative to help young girls. It means I have a ready-made placement here to count towards the hours I need.”

  “And how are you finding working with the younger client group?”

  “I know I’m only thirty-one, but I want to mother some of them.” I laughed.

  “So, do we need to discuss anyone?”

  “Well, I’ve been working with one Asian girl who’s being bullied at school. She’s bright. It’s such a shame. Jealousy may be the reason the gang are picking on her. I think it helps to work in an integrative way and not purely person-centred, which would have taken longer to help her move forward. By using gestalt and TA tools, we are now seeing signs of improvement with her self-limiting beliefs.”

  “That’s good.”

  “I’ve had to do two child protection referrals in the last week, which is unusual. It means I’m forming a good working relationship with Sally Price, the social worker.”

  “Ah yes, I’ve met Sally.”

  “There are two clients who are pregnant, and I’ve referred them on for specialised counselling. Both are being pressurised to go for termination
s.” Helen nodded. “But to be honest with you, there’s a general problem I’m experiencing. There are a few young clients I’m concerned about. There is a pattern here, and no one is taking any notice.”

  “Oh?”

  “Yes, I have three girls now who have confided in me that they are members of gangs. I must admit, I was shocked when I heard that. The types of things the girls have been doing, I’d associate with the slums of San Francisco or Los Angeles, not a small town like Bury. I didn’t expect to find problems with gangs in our area.”

  “Are they being coerced into criminal activities?”

  “Yes, and it is linked to drugs. I know at least two of these girls are afraid. They won’t say much. They are driven by the criminal code of honour to keep quiet. It can be frustrating when I’m getting somewhere, and they close up.” Helen nodded. “It’s very sad. They’re from broken homes. I think they got involved, thinking it was cool to hang around with older guys with money. They’re being lured into a lifestyle to sell heroin and crack cocaine. They’ve been sent to other areas like Blackpool and Prestatyn. It’s awful to listen to because their lives are being ruined.”

  “I’ve heard about this. They call it the county lines phenomenon, don’t they? It’s disturbing to think it is going on in our own backyard. The girls you’ve been dealing with, how is their mental and emotional well-being?”

  “It’s shocking. One has been raped. She’s not prepared to go to the police because she’s too afraid of the consequences. Another of the girls told me a harrowing tale about how she sat with some of the young gang members in her house. She said they were playing computer games and chilling when one of them started beating up her friend. They said that if no one volunteered to go county, then her mate would get it. So, she volunteered.” I looked over at Helen who nodded.