Don't Turn Around

by Amanda Brooke

  ‘Not half the things I’ve been accused of doing,’ Meg replied. As an afterthought, she added, ‘And a few things you couldn’t imagine.’

  ‘Try me.’

  The conversation stalled and I couldn’t help but wonder where my best friend had gone. There was a time when I’d need to remind Meg to breathe because she talked so fast but I doubted the rasp in her voice was the only thing preventing her from yapping away. The dead air was punctuated by her heavy sigh, adding to my frustration.

  ‘Fine, I’m sure you’ve got better things to do,’ I told her as my patience snapped. ‘I only wanted to say hello. I’ll see you back in school in a couple of weeks then.’

  Despite my threat, I didn’t hang up. I didn’t need to.

  ‘God, when did you get so snarky? If you must know, I’ve been nowhere and done nothing since before Christmas. I’ve been grounded, which is ridiculous. Who grounds a seventeen-year-old? It’s embarrassing.’

  I tried to sound shocked but I was smiling. At last she was talking to me. ‘What have you done now?’

  ‘Oh, this and that,’ Meg said brightly, her embarrassment over her punishments replaced by a pride for her crimes.

  ‘Meg, what have you done?’ I asked again, in my best impersonation of Ruth.

  ‘I sneaked Lewis into the house while Mum was at her pottery class. I thought Dad would go for a quick round of golf after work but I was wrong. We didn’t hear him come in and he had a fit.’

  ‘Please say you weren’t having sex?’

  ‘And why would you assume me and Lewis are sleeping together? Are you and Charlie?’

  ‘Erm, no,’ I replied, blushing at my own embarrassment instead of finding out more about hers. ‘We’re taking it slowly because Charlie’s a gentleman.’

  ‘And Lewis isn’t?’

  My heart skipped a guilty beat. ‘Is he?’

  ‘He has some restraint, yes.’

  ‘So what made your dad so mad?’

  ‘We were in their bedroom.’

  ‘What? And you seriously expect me to believe you weren’t up to something?’

  ‘That’s what Dad said,’ Meg replied with a half laugh that turned into a cough. ‘Oh, Jen, you should have seen his face. It was the exact same shade of purple as Mr Barber’s nose, but all over!’

  ‘I bet you weren’t laughing at the time,’ I said, picturing our old chemistry teacher’s nose rather than Geoff’s face, or worse still, what he’d seen. ‘What did Lewis say?’

  ‘Can’t remember. He was mostly a blur as he grabbed his stuff and ran.’

  ‘And your dad let him go?’

  ‘Oh, Dad made a grab for him and I thought for a minute there’d be this big fight but Lewis wasn’t stopping for anyone, not even me.’

  ‘What happened then?’

  Meg’s laughter ebbed away. ‘Dad made all kinds of threats, said we couldn’t see each other again and that Lewis was a bad influence. I said he couldn’t be that bad because he’d stopped himself from thumping an old man who should have had better things to do than walk in on his daughter and her boyfriend. I wish Lewis had thumped him. I’m sick of him. I’m sick of them all.’

  ‘Have you thought that maybe it’s for the best? If you’re not allowed to go out, you can crack on with your revision. You need to pass your exams if you want to escape to Newcastle,’ I reminded her. ‘You do still want to escape, don’t you, Meg?’

  ‘More than ever,’ she said with a sigh that deflated her. ‘Would you start coming over again to help?’

  ‘Maybe, if you stop seeing Lewis. You don’t have to break up with him,’ I added quickly, ‘just put things on hold for a while so you can get yourself sorted.’

  ‘I can’t stop,’ she replied. ‘It would kill me.’

  ‘Would it?’ I asked. ‘You haven’t been happy for such a long time, Meg. What goes on between you two? Are you doing drugs?’

  Meg cackled loudly. ‘Just because Lewis messed around with gangs doesn’t mean he’s a drug dealer who’s got me hooked on crack cocaine or something.’

  ‘Are you sure?’

  ‘Christ, Jen, have you been talking to Mum? I’ve had this from her and Dad, and even Sean was—’ Meg stopped mid-sentence and I could feel her eyes boring into the phone clasped in her hand. ‘You have been talking to them. That’s why you called. You’ve been recruited as a spy.’

  ‘I haven’t spoken to your mum or your dad,’ I answered truthfully. ‘And whatever you did want to tell me, it wouldn’t go any further. You can trust me, Meg.’

  ‘What about Sean? Have you spoken to him?’

  ‘Only a quick hello the other day.’

  ‘Don’t tell me, he just happened to drop by your house.’

  It was closer to the truth than I would have liked. ‘I’m not spying on you, Meg. I’m worried.’

  ‘Well, don’t be. For the record, I might be fucked up but I’m not a junkie.’

  The phone had cut off and I was left with a useless piece of plastic pressed against my ear, as I am now.

  I replace the helpline phone on the receiver in the faint hope that Ellie will call back, but the minutes slip away and only my shallow breaths break the silence until my mobile begins to vibrate again. It’s two minutes past eight and I’m not the only one who’s been clock-watching.

  Did she phone? X

  Ruth doesn’t deserve another piece of bad news today, so I craft my reply carefully.

  Not for long. Don’t worry, I’m going to look after her. Will explain tomorrow x

  Won’t be in tomorrow. Will catch up FIRST THING Friday x

  It’s impossible to tell from Ruth’s reply if she suspects a problem, but I doubt she could imagine the magnitude. She’ll be too distracted by Gemma’s fight for life to worry about Ellie’s plight. That worry is mine alone.

  I return to the kitchen to clean up another mess I’ve made. As I pick shards of broken glass from the sink, I can’t help but wonder how Lewis manages to stop anyone speaking out against him, and not just the women he controls. Someone had warned him that Ellie was talking to me, but who?

  I’ve assumed Ellie doesn’t have close friends but she has plenty of colleagues, and perhaps she has confided in someone. Or did she let something slip to a customer? She might have heard a sob story and recommended the helpline. But how would it get back to Lewis? Besides, Ellie was convinced it was me who had opened my big mouth, and the truth is, it was.

  I told three people and of those, I can’t imagine Ruth or Geoff telling anyone else, or certainly not anyone who would pass on that information to Lewis. Gripping a shard of glass in my hand, I’m only vaguely aware of the drops of blood splashing onto stainless steel to form crimson rivulets in the sink. Have I left myself with only one suspect?

  26

  Jen

  ‘Charlie!’

  I yell his name at the top of my voice as the front door closes behind me. What little light had followed me in from the communal corridor retreats, and with a soft click, silence and darkness envelope me.

  My body aches and my lungs burn after racing home through pelting rain but the pain doesn’t register. And it’s only as I’m rummaging through my bag that I realise I’m so cold and wet that I’ve lost all sense of touch. I pull out the umbrella that I was in too much of a hurry to use and grab my phone, but the touchscreen refuses to respond to my white-tipped fingers. My rain-soaked hair drips into my eyes as I feel my way towards the kitchen where I rub my hands vigorously on a tea towel to bring them back to life.

  Trying the phone again, I see I’ve missed a message from Charlie. He’s made a detour to the Baltic Market on his way home to pick up some street food for dinner. I’m tempted to hunt him down before my anger has a chance to cool, but he doesn’t say how long he’ll be and, chances are, I’ll be hurrying downstairs while he’s travelling up in the lift.

  I have no choice except to wait, but I don’t turn on the lights or slip out of my wet, woollen jacket. The rainwater running of
f me hits the tiles, the drips turning to splashes as a puddle forms around my feet. Leaning forward to rest my elbows on the counter, I drop my head into my hands. I’m shivering as well as shaking by the time the door opens and borrowed light floods the room.

  The light intensifies as the kitchen spotlights come on and I’m momentarily blinded. When I straighten up and my vision adjusts, I see that Charlie had made it halfway across the apartment before stopping in his tracks. He’s carrying a collection of brown paper bags that are sodden and, much like me, threaten to disintegrate at any moment.

  ‘You told him.’ Despite my shaking voice, my anger sharpens my words to lethal points.

  ‘Told who, what?’

  ‘Your mate, Lewis.’

  The shoulders of Charlie’s puffer jacket sag. ‘Are we back to this again?’ he says. ‘I thought something bad had happened. I was expecting you to say that girl in hospital had died.’

  ‘You mean the girl who was mowed down by the man who’d been telling everyone he couldn’t live without her? The one who said he was a victim?’ I haven’t spoken to Charlie since Ruth updated me and I see him flinch.

  ‘People like that don’t care about anyone else, Charlie,’ I continue. ‘There’s no room in their hearts for anyone except themselves; not the women they claim to love, or their sick mothers for that matter.’

  Charlie’s features harden. ‘Ellie phoned again.’

  ‘Yes, even though she’d been warned not to. Thankfully Lewis hadn’t quite choked the voice from her, though it sounded like he’d come pretty close.’

  ‘Jesus.’

  ‘I promised Ellie I wouldn’t tell a soul and now that she knows I have, she isn’t going to call again. And do you know what? I don’t blame her!’

  Charlie drops his head and stares at the takeaway bags hanging limply at his side. ‘This food is going to get cold,’ he says eventually. ‘I’ll put it in the oven.’

  ‘Fuck the food! I’m talking about a young woman who’s being systematically abused by our old friend. He’s going to destroy her one way or another, and unless I can stop him, he’s going to walk away again. And do you know why that is?’ I ask. ‘Because there are enough idiots out there who think boys will be boys. Apparently some concerned citizen warned Lewis that Ellie has been phoning the helpline. I can’t imagine how they justified it to themselves, but perhaps you can tell me.’

  Charlie places the paper bags carefully on the kitchen counter that marks the boundary between us. I step back and as I do, my sopping wet ballet shoes slip on the puddle I’ve made. I grab hold of the handle on the fridge door to save myself but as I straighten up, I’m still not sure of my footing.

  ‘Why do you always have to assume that I’m going to let you down?’ Charlie asks. ‘Sometimes it feels like you believe there’s an inherent evil in all men.’

  ‘Maybe it’s an occupational hazard,’ I snap back.

  ‘So you think I’ve been up to something behind your back?’

  ‘We all have our secrets, Charlie.’

  For a fleeting moment, I want him to ask what secrets I’ve been keeping. I want him to admit we both know why Meg died hating me. I’m tired of holding onto my shame and Charlie looks exhausted too.

  The anger that had kept me warm burns itself out and my teeth chatter. ‘I’m not suggesting you told Lewis deliberately,’ I continue. ‘Maybe you said something to Jay or Meathead and they mentioned it to him. I don’t know. That’s why I’m asking.’

  ‘But you’re not asking, are you?’ Charlie says. ‘And as I recall, you told me I was the one who warned Lewis – the minute I stepped through the door.’

  He waits for me to pose my accusation as a question this time, but I’m not sure I can. I don’t want it to be Charlie, but if I don’t ask, he can avoid answering. What if he’s counting on that? What if he is hiding something? Why can’t I trust him? I take a deep breath.

  ‘Did you?’

  Charlie’s jaw twitches. He’s pulling the scarf from around his neck as he turns away. ‘No, Jen, I didn’t,’ he says. He sits down on the armchair so he’s facing me. He hasn’t taken off his jacket. He hasn’t decided if he’s staying. ‘Next question.’

  ‘Have you spoken to Jay or Meathead about Ellie?’

  ‘You asked me to find out all I could about her, so yes, I’ve talked to them. If you’re asking if I said anything that would link Ellie to you or to the helpline, then no, I haven’t,’ he says. ‘But of course, they won’t have forgotten your little trick of sending friend requests, so I don’t suppose it’s beyond the realms of possibility that they’ve made a connection, although God knows why they’d want to share that information with Lewis. Other than liking an occasional post, I don’t think either of them have had any further contact with him.’ Charlie has twisted his scarf into a ball and lets it drop to the floor before pressing his back against the chair. ‘Satisfied?’

  ‘I had to ask.’

  ‘No, Jen, you didn’t. You really didn’t,’ Charlie replies, his voice hollow.

  The fight has left me too and I feel foolish. I creep out of the kitchen and head for the sofa so we can start this conversation over, except as I sit down, he stands up. My heartbeat skitters: is he going to walk out?

  ‘Is it too late to say I’m sorry?’

  Rather than answer, Charlie shakes out of his jacket and disappears into the bathroom. He’s gone a while and I’m grateful for the space he gives both of us. I can’t get my head around everything that’s happened today. I’d gone to work this morning feeling positive. There were problems to tackle but I thought we were on our way to solving them, and then Ruth had gone missing, and like a stack of dominoes, we had been toppled one by one. There’s no one left standing to pick the others up.

  When Charlie reappears, he’s carrying a fluffy white bath towel and his damp hair is sticking up where he’s rubbed it. ‘You need to dry off,’ he says.

  From his tone, I’m expecting him to drop it into my lap but he holds out his hand and invites me to stand. I close my eyes as he strokes the towel across my face and I lean into his hand. ‘I am sorry,’ I repeat.

  ‘I know,’ he says. ‘I expect I’m at the tail end of what has been an exceptionally shitty day.’

  ‘It’s no excuse.’

  ‘No, it’s not,’ he replies as he unbuttons my jacket to reveal sodden clothes where the rain has trickled down the collar. There’s only a small section around the waistband of my grey work trousers that isn’t wet. He attempts a smile as he sizes up the problem, looking from me to the towel. ‘I’ll get your bathrobe.’

  I stop him before he can move. ‘No, let’s work with what we have,’ I tell him: I don’t want him to leave my sight again.

  While Charlie hangs my houndstooth jacket over the desk chair, I peel off my damp clothes down to my underwear, then rub the towel over my wet skin until it’s sodden. I’m staring at the rusted smears of blood on the towelling when Charlie returns to me.

  ‘You’re hurt,’ he says, taking a step back so he can work out where the blood has come from.

  I show him my injured hand from the broken glass at work. It’s the first time I’ve taken a proper look and the gash running down my index finger looks nasty. My hands have been too wet to let it scab over but it’s stopped bleeding.

  ‘It’s not as bad as it looks,’ I tell him as I tuck the towel around me and sit on the sofa, pulling Charlie down next to me. ‘I’ll clean myself up later. I don’t want to do anything else until I’ve worked out what went wrong today, and how I can fix it.’

  ‘With my help, assuming you still trust me,’ Charlie replies as he puts both his arms around me.

  I feel him tense as he draws my ice-cold body towards him, while in contrast, I soak up his warmth. With my head on his chest and Charlie’s chin resting on my damp hair, my shivers subside.

  ‘It wasn’t me, Jen.’

  I’m tempted to ask Charlie to repeat exactly what he’s said about Ellie and to who bu
t it’s time to follow my instincts, which should have exonerated Charlie from the start. ‘I know, I believe you.’

  ‘But?’

  ‘How did he find out? The only other people who knew about Ellie were Ruth and Geoff.’

  ‘No,’ Charlie corrects me. ‘The only people you told, other than me, were Ruth and Geoff. You were quick to assume that I’d mentioned it to someone. What if they had? Have you asked?’

  ‘No, I came straight home,’ I say, pressing my head against his chest. I can hear Charlie’s heart thumping as he relives the moment he walked through the door and I let the accusations fly, but his breathing remains steady, giving me hope that he will forgive me. ‘They were hardly going to tell Lewis, and who do they know who might have passed it on?’

  ‘Sean?’

  ‘If they’d told Sean, the first person he’d speak to was me, not someone who’d snitch to Lewis. It doesn’t make sense.’

  ‘No, it doesn’t,’ Charlie agrees. ‘But you might want to ask all of them.’

  ‘I will, but not tonight. Ruth was still at the hospital when I spoke to her last, and I’m dreading telling her what’s happened with Ellie. I can’t say I’m looking forward to speaking to Geoff either,’ I add as my mind flicks back to the last time I’d seen him. ‘Ruth hadn’t got around to telling him about Ellie, so it was left to me to do it after she went missing at lunchtime. He took it really badly.’

  ‘Bad enough to do something on impulse?’

  I’m about to dismiss the possibility but then I remember the hours Geoff was missing. Was there time for him to hunt Lewis down, and for Lewis to take it out on Ellie? It might explain why she didn’t phone until very late. I lift my head but it’s a struggle to meet Charlie’s gaze. I should have trusted him. ‘But how would he know where to find Lewis?’

  Charlie shrugs. ‘You did it, and Geoff’s known for a while that he’s in Liverpool. If I was him, I’d want to know where he was.’

  ‘But if we’re right, he’s the one who’s put Ellie in more danger,’ I say, shaking my head. ‘How do I tell him that?’

  Charlie’s body stiffens only this time it’s not because of the cold. ‘You could try storming into his office and accusing him.’