Don't Turn Around

by Amanda Brooke

  ‘I thought we talked about this, Ruth. I’ll be fine.’

  ‘You’re not the only reason I’m staying,’ she admits.

  ‘Oh,’ I say, realising any further attempt to dissuade her will be futile. ‘You think it’s a bad sign that Gemma didn’t ring on Monday, don’t you?’

  ‘She’s phoned up on every other shift lately. If something has happened, I can’t risk us missing her next call.’

  ‘I’m really sorry about last week.’

  Ruth leans forward, raising her chin to look over the privacy screen separating us. ‘It’s not your fault, Jen. We’ve spent too many years beating ourselves up over Meg, we can’t take responsibility for Gemma’s life too. We have to accept there’s only so much we can do.’

  It’s a nice speech but I don’t think Ruth believes it either. ‘Do you want to be the one to speak to her if she does call?’ I ask, glancing at the phone on my desk. Calls will only divert to Ruth’s pod if the first line is busy.

  ‘Yes, please. Just transfer her over.’

  My cheeks redden. ‘But what if I drop the call?’

  ‘OK, how about we swap seats if we need to? We’re not going to lose her this time,’ Ruth promises, her words as tense as her body.

  As we sit back and wait, I’m reminded of the early days when we had enough volunteers to double up for every shift. During the quieter periods – and there weren’t as many as there are now – I talked to the other volunteers. Talking to Ruth had been especially therapeutic, for both of us. Talking would help now, and there’s been something playing on my mind.

  ‘What was that thing you mentioned about a space girl the other night?’ I ask.

  Ruth straightens up and I hear the gentle taps of a fingernail on her mobile screen as she begins to explain. ‘I was having a clear out and found a page from Meg’s notepad curled up inside a vase, waiting to be discovered. I didn’t mention it because I didn’t want to upset you, or raise your hopes. The police aren’t interested. I was supposed to pass on the original but I haven’t been ready to surrender this last fragment of Meg’s life, and they haven’t exactly chased me up over it.’

  Reaching over the screen, Ruth hands me her mobile. She’s opened her photo library, only it’s not pictures of her grandchildren this time, but a piece of yellow lined paper, zoomed in so I can read Meg’s familiar scrawl.

  Blood drains slowly from my face as I read Meg’s words, returning to one line in particular.

  It’s amazing what you can get used to with enough practice.

  Enough practice? Is Meg talking about the sexual experimentation Sean mentioned?

  ‘Has Sean seen this?’

  ‘Yes, he asked about my space girl comment too.’

  I bite down hard on my lip. Sean was wrong to assume his sister was a willing participant. She’s not describing something consensual. Whatever Lewis was doing, it was slowly killing Meg and now he’s doing the same to Ellie. Oh, shit.

  As I prepare to hand the phone back to Ruth, I zoom out of the image and another secret is revealed. I let out a gasp. ‘I was there when she wrote this, Ruth. I remember her scoring across the page, but I took no notice of what she’d written.’ I hand the phone back and rub my fingers as if they’ve been scorched. ‘I didn’t know.’

  ‘When did she write it?’

  I scrunch up my nose. It was that day we were waiting for Sean to come home. ‘We were getting our coursework out of the way before our AS Level exams, so it was Easter, the year before she died. She’d only been dating Lewis a few months. It didn’t take him long, did it?’

  ‘No, it was Meg’s suffering that went on,’ Ruth says, her eyes rimmed with tears.

  I want to get up and give her the hug we both desperately need, but if I do that, I might cry and soon we’ll both be a sobbing mess. That simply won’t do, I tell myself as I dig deep for the courage to tell Ruth about Ellie. My heart thumps against my chest, only to leap into my throat when the phone on my desk rings.

  I recognise Gemma’s voice immediately and I’m already standing up as I explain that I’m going to pass the call to Ruth.

  ‘I felt so awful about the other day, Gemma,’ I tell her as Ruth circles the desks. ‘I shouldn’t have put you on hold. It won’t happen again.’

  ‘It’s OK,’ she says. ‘There must be girls in worse situations than me that need to talk to you.’

  The hum of people going about their grocery shopping in the background emphasises a hollowness I haven’t heard in Gemma’s voice before. We have to help her. ‘Here’s Ruth.’

  Relegated to the second pod, I have no choice but to sit and listen to the one-sided conversation. Given that we’re primarily a listening service, there’s not a lot of information to be gleaned, but whatever it is that Gemma is sharing doesn’t put Ruth at ease. Resting on one elbow, she uses the palm of her hand to cool her brow and prop up her head. I can’t see her mouth and the privacy screen muffles her voice.

  Using my heels, I’m edging my chair closer when the second phone rings. I snatch it up. ‘Hello?’

  ‘Hi.’

  ‘Hi,’ I reply, stopping short of speaking Ellie’s name joyously out loud. I have to be careful in case Ruth picks up on my conversation – so much for telling her everything. ‘I wasn’t sure if you’d phone back.’

  ‘I hoped I would not need to,’ Ellie says. ‘I thought he would listen.’

  Ellie’s voice has an unfamiliar rasp to it. Whatever has happened has caused her to cry herself dry. ‘But he won’t,’ I conclude.

  ‘No.’

  I push my chair backwards, extending my distance from Ruth before adopting her pose of leaning forward and talking quietly into my sleeve. ‘What happened?’

  ‘He was angry. He said it is my fault he cannot keep away. He asks why I do this to him. I try to say I do nothing. I asked him to go but then …’ Her words trail off as she relives whatever has happened to her. ‘He wants to know if I have told someone, a new boyfriend perhaps. I say no but he must see that I am lying.’

  ‘Did you tell him you’ve spoken to me? Does he check your phone?’ I ask, for the first time grateful that Ruth is keeping me company tonight.

  ‘He checks but I delete my calls. I tell him I keep his secret but it does not matter. He does not listen. He is not talking to me, he is talking to Megan.’

  ‘Do you want to talk about it?’ I ask.

  There’s a loud sniff and the sound of Ellie struggling to swallow.

  ‘It was worse this time. He forced me to the bedroom. I said I would do what he wanted if he would just love me, be nice to me. He said I do not like nice. I try to stop him, Jen, but that only made him worse. He wanted to know where the scarves were and …’

  My back goes rigid as a vision flashes across my mind. I’m lying on Meg’s bed with the heart-shaped fairy lights above my head. I reach over to play with one of the silk scarves hanging from the bedpost but suddenly they’re not there. Meg’s taken them into the garage and has tied them into a noose.

  My hand sweeps across my face and comes to rest on my throat. ‘What scarves?’

  ‘He buys them for me to keep by my bed but I hide them away. He found them in a drawer.’

  I’ve never before made a connection between the scarves Meg treasured and her abusive relationship. Did he tie her up with them? Was her last act a message the rest of us hadn’t understood?

  ‘Oh, Ellie,’ I say. Realising I’ve spoken her name, I glance up quickly in case I’ve drawn attention to the conversation Ruth is better off not hearing. Fortunately, she’s absorbed in her own conversation.

  ‘I lie on the bed and I am not allowed to make a sound,’ Ellie continues. ‘Sometimes he pushes a scarf into my mouth but that was not what he did this time.’

  ‘It’s OK. I’m here,’ I tell her when she breaks down in tears. I could almost be talking to Meg and not Ellie.

  ‘He put the scarf around my neck and pulled it tight,’ she says, and that’s when I realise that
the hoarseness of her voice isn’t because she’s been crying, although she’s been doing that too. ‘He closed his eyes and he did not care that he was choking me. I thought I was going to die. Everything went dark.’

  ‘Oh, Jesus …’

  It’s like a punch to the stomach and I want to be sick: the old bruising found on Meg’s neck during the autopsy hadn’t been from a previous suicide attempt – Lewis had done that to her. I’d seen him lash out at Meg but I had no idea what happened to her behind closed doors. This is what Meg described happening to the space girl. The air running out. The lungs that burn. This is what Meg’s abuser did to her again and again and again.

  Why did I ever think I could stand up to Lewis on my own? If Meg wasn’t strong enough to fight back, what chance have I? With a rush of guilt, I realise I’m thinking about me when it’s Ellie who’s in imminent danger.

  ‘Ellie, listen to me. I know I was rushing you last time but have you thought about what you want to happen so we can get you out of there?’

  She continues as if I haven’t spoken. ‘When I came around, I thought I was alone. Then I heard him crying.’

  ‘He said he was sorry.’

  Ellie’s sobs rise up again and as I wait for her to compose herself, I’m momentarily distracted by the call taking place on the other side of the privacy screen.

  Ruth’s voice has risen and her cheeks are flushed as she straightens up. ‘I’ll phone you straight back, Gemma. I promise. Please, just stay where you are,’ she begs. She leans over and presumably cuts the call before dialling the number scrawled on a Post-it note. Gemma must have run out of change for the phone.

  ‘I ask him why he does it,’ Ellie is telling me.

  ‘And did he tell you?’ I ask, my words coming out as a gasp – I’ve been holding my breath. I’m still looking at Ruth and I can see the relief washing over her as she gets Gemma back on the line. We still have a chance to save both women.

  ‘He says it is Megan’s fault. She made him like this and I am no better.’

  My grip on the phone tightens. ‘He’s going to say a lot of things to justify what he’s been doing to you but you must never, ever, think that you deserve to be used in that way.’

  ‘It’s because I tell him that I like him and then I act like I don’t. He says I do it to confuse him and that Megan was the same,’ Ellie continues. ‘He loved her but she only made him feel bad. She toyed with him and so do I. We are responsible for everything that happens.’

  ‘And is that what you think? Have you ever felt in control with this relationship?’

  Ellie doesn’t answer straight away. ‘He is a very strong man but I must have some power over him because I am the only one he will talk to about Megan. He wanted me to feel special but he scared me and now he does not try to be kind.’

  ‘Because you know what he did and that scares him,’ I tell her. ‘So in a way, you do have power, Ellie. You know something that could destroy him and he might say he’s sorry but it won’t stop him.’

  ‘He does not pretend to stop any more. He said I will get used to it and learn to enjoy our games. He promised he will look after me, but … If he knew I was talking to you …’

  ‘Remember what I said? He’s scared because you have a hold over him.’ I’m glancing over at Ruth again. ‘Do you have any friends you can confide in, anyone who might help?’

  ‘Not since I moved into this flat. He does not like me to have visitors. I am alone.’

  ‘No, you’re not. You have me,’ I remind her. ‘But I can’t do this by myself. I’ll need to talk to some people – professionals who can help you—’

  ‘No!’ Ellie cries. ‘You can’t tell anyone. You promised!’

  ‘I know but …’

  ‘He will kill me if he finds out. He will,’ she says between ragged breaths.

  ‘We can get you to a safe place,’ I promise. I’m thinking of Selina’s refuge, even though I know there’s never enough room. I’d give her my bed if I thought it was safe, but the moment Lewis realises Ellie has been talking to me, he’ll come looking for both of us. He knows where I work. How long would it take for him to work out where I live?

  ‘You can trust me, Ellie.’

  Over on the other helpline pod, I hear Ruth say the same thing to Gemma.

  ‘I need time,’ Ellie says. ‘I will phone again next week.’

  I’m about to offer her my mobile number but the line goes dead. My hand shakes as I replace the receiver and look at the blank call sheet on screen. How much longer can I keep Ellie’s secret? So far, I haven’t been able to offer her anything more substantial than weak assurances that she’ll be safe. I need to have a plan and I can’t do that on my own.

  Ruth’s telephone rattles as she drops it down onto its receiver. ‘I think I need a cuppa after that.’

  ‘I’ll get them.’

  ‘Let’s both go,’ she says. ‘As long as you promise to sprint back if we get another call. I don’t think my legs would carry me.’

  I let Ruth lead the way to the kitchen in case she realises she’s not the only one unsteady on her feet.

  ‘Gemma’s finally realised that Ryan isn’t simply misunderstood,’ Ruth says as she picks up the kettle. ‘If we don’t get her away from him soon, I don’t think she’ll ever escape. He’s already worn her down so much, but we have a fighting chance. She’s given me her mum’s number so I can let her know what’s happening.’

  ‘Tonight?’

  Ruth considers her options. ‘I should probably sleep on it first. Her relationship with her mum sounds quite volatile at the moment, which has worked in Ryan’s favour but will make our job that bit more difficult.’

  It isn’t easy switching focus away from Ellie, but Ruth has the right idea about sleeping on things. I let Ruth continue talking.

  ‘We know Gemma’s mum was the one who got her to phone the helpline in the first place,’ Ruth continues, ‘but Gemma has been conditioned to do the exact opposite of what her mum says. She doesn’t want to be the child who’s told what to do. We’re going to have to tread very carefully.’

  As we wait for the kettle to boil, we each have time to reflect on this evening’s conversations. ‘At least Gemma’s given us the opportunity to make a difference,’ I say.

  ‘I know, but I won’t rest until she’s safe, and for the moment, that might not be at home with her mum. I might speak to Selina to see if she can offer her a place to stay. She owes me a favour.’

  Damn.

  20

  Jen

  I haven’t slept for days and I barely have the strength to drag myself home on Friday evening. I would love, just once, to be able to use the lift but my fears defeat me and I’m out of breath by the time I’ve climbed the stairs. I pause on the landing and look out across the Liverpool skyline. The cooling sun is leaving deep pink and purple gouges in the autumn sky as it begins its descent but I’m too tired to admire the view. I want to be home.

  Charlie suggested going out for dinner tonight and although I would much rather crawl straight into bed, I want to make the effort. His perfectly timed appearance last Saturday at the fundraiser has gone some way to heal the rift between us but we’re not completely mended. He thinks he’s the reason I’m not sleeping. I haven’t told him he’s not.

  My mind has been ricocheting from one problem to another, one person to another, but notably, not one solution to another. I have to remove Ellie from Lewis’s influence, but to do that, I’m going to have to draw on support from other agencies. In any other circumstance, Ruth would be the ideal person to source a solution but how can I tell her what I’ve discovered? I can see what Lewis’s return is doing to her by the anxiety on Geoff’s face. I wonder if he should be the one I confide in, or possibly Sean. They’ve both shown they can keep secrets but can I trust them with Ellie’s? All I know for certain is that I can’t go on like this. I have to tell someone.

  With my pulse still racing, I take a lungful of air and stumble throug
h the fire doors and into the corridor. When I reach the door to my apartment, I don’t have the strength to turn the key in the lock and, after some fumbling, I give up and rest my forehead against the door – just as Charlie opens it wide with one effortless movement.

  ‘What’s this? Too many drinks in the office?’ he asks as he catches me in his arms.

  As I straighten up, I hear music playing above the thump of my heartbeat. It’s the One Direction album Charlie loathes but I love. There’s also the smell of fried onions and Chinese five spice.

  ‘What’s going on?’ I ask as I peer around him to the dining table in the corner of the apartment. There are candles flickering and a bottle of wine poking its neck out of an ice bucket.

  ‘Nothing special,’ he says, to give me fair warning that this is not going to be another surprise proposal. ‘I know how tired you’ve been and the last thing you wanted was to go out for a meal, so I thought we’d stay in.’

  ‘You’ve cooked a meal?’ I ask with surprise, although I don’t know why. I should have worked out by now that Charlie is my hero.

  ‘I’ll even let you eat your dinner in your PJs if you want.’

  What I want most of all is to cry so I wrap my arms around Charlie’s neck and kiss him. ‘I bloody love you,’ I tell him before disappearing into the bedroom to change.

  When I reappear, I’m wearing my grown-up silk pyjamas and I’ve touched up my makeup and straightened my sweat-frizzed hair.

  Charlie’s smiling. ‘I expected you to come out wearing your onesie,’ he says.

  ‘I thought I’d make the effort,’ I reply, hoping he won’t notice my Tinkerbell bed socks.

  ‘Sit down while I pour you a glass of wine.’

  Charlie is wearing jeans and a grey marl t-shirt that pulls taut across his narrow chest, the perfect spot to rest my weary head later. If only Ellie could see Charlie, she would realise that this was how you make someone feel loved and protected.