Her eyes were closed, legs pushed apart, then suddenly she was sliding off the car bonnet and onto the floor.
She lay crumpled on the on the wet tarmac and let everything drift away.
She opened her eyes in a hospital, her finger was caught in one of those clips that took some reading or other. A monitor beeped.
Rebecca tried to blink, but one eye was swollen shut.
“Hello there.”
A nice police officer, her hair in a bun, and a button nose smiled at her. Rebecca’s tongue was thick, and she couldn’t speak.
“It’s all right. You’re safe. Do you remember what happened?”
Rebecca blinked, sort of. Yes, she remembered. She nodded.
“Good. We need to take your statement, and the doctor will need to see you. Is there anyone you want us to call?”
She shook her head.
When the doctor came in, a youngish man in scrubs, who absently said something about an internal examination, Rebecca tried to get up and leave.
A female nurse came in, with a kind face, she held her hand while she was photographed, and examined. She tried to say that she wasn’t raped. They wouldn’t listen.
She hadn’t known that her knickers had been ripped off her too. She didn’t remember that. She wondered what else she didn’t remember.
There was no sign of trauma, to which she nodded. No, there was no trauma. None at all.
She had a fractured cheekbone, the ribs that had been broken before were cracked again. There was extensive bruising. She’d had an MRI, but all looked okay.
All in all, she’d be sore and a shocking sight for a while, but there was no trauma.
The police took all of her clothes, and she was given a t-shirt and tracksuit bottoms to wear home, along with a pair of rubber plimsolls.
It was eleven when the officer finally agreed to take her home. Alice would be worried sick.
The officer put her coat round Rebecca’s shoulders, as she shivered. She clung to her handbag, like a shield.
She nearly cried when she saw Arthur’s car.
Arthur opened the door before she even got out. Fury was on him, and she shrunk. The officer spoke quietly to him first.
He put his arm round her so gently that she started to cry, the first time since she was attacked. She sat down with a thump in the chair in the hallway.
“Rebecca?”
“Hmm.” Her painkillers were kicking in.
“We’ll be in touch tomorrow, to see how you are. They’ll be a liaison officer in touch soon.” The officer put her coat back on.
“Okay. Thank you.”
The silence weighed in when she had gone.
“We were so worried.”
“I’m sorry Alice, I didn’t want them to panic you if they rang.” She wondered if she looked as bad as she sounded, it was probably worse by the look on Alice’s face.
“What the hell is wrong with you?” Arthur had his hands on his hips again, meaning he was angry. “You should have called, I’d have come to the hospital.”
“Why would you do that?”
“Why would I…what goes through your head?” he shook his head in disbelief. “Do they know who did this?”
“Yes, he’s been arrested. Someone stopped him.”
“Where are your clothes?”
“The police have them, and they were ripped off and all torn and covered in blood.”
They looked at her in silence.
“He didn’t, he would have, but he didn’t get chance.” She was trying to reassure them.
“Who is he?”
“Arthur does it matter?” Alice was holding back her tears, and Arthur was furious.
Rebecca looked at Alice through her one eye. “They found me, I have no idea how they managed it. I changed my name and everything.” Rebecca looked imploringly at Alice, who shook her head.
“You said they were in prison.”
“They are, it was someone else, but he’s…I don’t know, cousin I think.”
“What? What are you talking about?” Arthur’s face took on a dark look.
“I testified against some horrible people.”
“So you came here, to my mother’s house?” she looked up at him, one eye blinked. “What if he’d come for you here?”
“I never thought, it was supposed to be over, I was supposed to be safe.”
“But you weren’t, instead you brought this, whatever it is to my mother’s life.”
She swallowed the blood in her mouth.
“You’re right, I’m sorry.”
“Hush, it’s all right my dear, don’t you worry, let’s just get you well.”
Rebecca shrugged and stood, she forced her legs to move up the stairs, and was horrified when Arthur followed.
She waited at her door.
“What?”
“I don’t think you should stay here, what if others come? Hmm? Think about my mother.”
“You’re right. I’ll sort something out, I just need a little time first.”
He stormed away, and heard her break down. He paused, but didn’t turn.
It was after midnight when Alice went to bed, and Arthur left.
Rebecca woke at four. She was so tired, but she got up. She began to pack her clothes, but couldn’t manage everything, she held her ribs as pain seared through her, and she struggled to catch her breath. She only took one suitcase, her backpack, and the holdall. She left behind the necklace Arthur had given her neatly laid out on the dresser.
The taxi arrived at five, and the driver helped her as soon as he saw her face. He probably thought she was fleeing an abusive partner.
She was in a way.
She went to a chain hotel just outside the centre of the city. It was a massive place, with a gym and a pool, and she booked a last minute room on her phone.
She knew she couldn’t book in yet, but when she turned up at reception, the woman took one look at Rebecca and called the night manager.
She went into her room, basic, but new and clean and collapsed after taking another lot of pills. Knocked her right out until lunchtime.
She had written a note to Alice, apologising, asking forgiveness, and telling her that her son was right about her all along, and not to worry, Alice would be safe now, and to throw away the rest of her things.
Alice was so angry when she read that note, knowing that vulnerable sweet girl was alone in the world with no one. She rang Arthur, demanding to know what he had said. He sat in his office in shock, he hadn’t expected her to just leave. He felt terrible, and in truth, he knew it was his fear talking when he had said those things to her.
He’d planned to apologise that evening. He sat back in his chair. He spent all day wondering how she would manage.
His mother wouldn’t speak to him when he got there. He promised to find her, but wherever he looked, he couldn’t. He even spoke to the police, but they wouldn’t help him. He supposed they knew where she was.
In fact, the sergeant taking her statement in the hotel room, thought her removal to a hotel odd.
“You shouldn’t be alone.”
“I don’t have anyone. I was asked to leave my home because of what happened.”
He didn’t say anything but the liaison officer and he exchanged a look of contempt. It was the same sergeant that Arthur spoke to, he was surprised to see such a respected man of the city to be involved. Arthur said something about a misunderstanding, and they were really worried about her.
She was fine he said, and nothing else.
Rebecca slept a lot in the first week, when her eye was functional, she finally took a bath, her knees were badly scraped, and the scabs stung when she submerged them into the bath.
She washed her hair and lay in the water until it went cold.
She didn’t really feel anything. It had been that way for a long time when she was young, when Mark moved in.
She rarely let herself think of him.
The only measure of pride
she had was that she had never given in, she had never slept with him, or any of David’s friends or family, which wasn’t for their lack of trying. She was a commodity, they had been trying to get her to cooperate since she was thirteen. Mark tried to be friends at first, then tried to get her drunk, or stoned. He’d make her go to parties, or try to get her to stay in his room.
He started calling her his girlfriend to everyone, and calling her Becky. He got the tattoo, at every opportunity he stamped himself onto her life, but she resisted him, he never wore her down. He’d corner her in the house, and make her touch him, or he’d touch her. She’d freeze, unable to fight in her fear. He revolted her. He said her life would get so much better when she gave in. But when she looked at her mother, she didn’t consider that better.
Mrs Patel had saved her life. David grooming her for prostitution on one side, and Mark trying to pull her into their world on the other. She had few choices, Mrs Patel had given her hope, a safe place when it was all she wanted.
When she was sixteen, Mark started to wait for her at the sixth form college and try to take her home. She started leaving by the car-parking gate, making a run for it.
He’d made it impossible for her to have a relationship, with anyone. She had managed a few flirtations, a few snogs, but sex or a relationship, no. She had spent so many of her formative avoiding male contact, fearing it, it had become ingrained into, and she associated sex with violence and weakness. It couldn’t be beautiful, she couldn’t move on from her fear. Sex was a terrifying mystery that she could never solve.
And she still couldn’t move on, the Crests had made sure of that, but this time it had been worse. CCTV, DNA, and witnesses made a pretty tight case, plus there was motive. Danny pleaded guilty, and as he was out on licence for drug offences, he went straight back to prison.
She had never been so relieved. She had to quit her job at Stead, which was inconvenient, seeing as she had invested her money, and couldn’t access it for five years, now she only had enough for a few months. It seemed like a good idea at the time, she had been settled and safe.
She went out for the first time, needing something other than a giant continental breakfast to eat, and besides, the staff had clocked her stocking up on croissants for the day.
Her bruises were mottled, but still pretty bad in places, her ribs weren’t so bad, and she could move and breathe without being in agony.
She wondered about leaving Chadford altogether, but she didn’t have the energy to. She had no one here, and Nattleton was a world away.
She walked every day, getting her strength back, needing to wait for her bruises to go before she might be able to find another job.
She stopped into a café one day, realising it was the one she used when she first arrived. The same friendly woman recognised her, and the bruises on her face. The red eye was yellowing, but it looked terrible, and Mandy, the owner, looked her over, finishing with the eye.
“Not going well then?”
“No.”
Rebecca sat down with a cup of tea, and when the café cleared its lunch rush, Mandy joined her.
“What do you need?”
“A job. Can’t go back to mine.” She told her the whole sorry tale, all of it
“Arthur Hulston Jnr? Bloody hell.”
“That’s what you take away from what I just told you?”
“No, what happened is shit, but he’s like a saint as far as the great and good are concerned. Can do no wrong.”
“I don’t get it.”
“So he’s really successful, but he’s well known too, he does charity work, and advocacy, he has influence and power. There was this thing, kind of a joke, to have him run for mayor. Helps that he’s gorgeous. What’s he like up close?”
“Yeah, he’s attractive. A dickhead, but attractive. I really respected him when I got to know him better, but I don’t know, I mean someone like him wouldn’t think of me, I know what I am, but I was his mother’s friend and companion for months, I mattered to her, but he just told me to get out. It was a shitty thing to do. I miss Alice, she was so nice.”
Mandy thought about it for a moment. “I need a girl, it’s just me and Lou, who does the tables, I need help in the kitchen, can you really cook?”
“Yes.”
“Fine. You’re hired.”
“Why?”
“Because I do need the help, breakfast and lunches are hectic, we get the commuter traffic. Six start, and finish at three.
“You can stay on my couch for a week, while you find a place to live, but no more.”
“Thank you.”
When Rebecca saw the only shithole she could afford, she was reminded for the millionth time, how good she had it with Alice.
It was a tiny studio bedsit, a hotplate, two cupboards, and a small fridge made the kitchen. There was a small table, a bed, and the only other room was a tiny bathroom, with only a toilet and shower. It was dark, and crappy, but she had no choice.
She picked up a few odds and ends from charity shops, and decided to manage, it was all she could afford.
She picked up a vacuum for ten pounds, it was the most she would spend on anything.
She managed to pick up a second job filing in the afternoons. It was a small office, they didn’t need someone full time, but it had flexible hours. She would walk from the café, it would take thirty minutes, she’d work until six, and go home.
She ate cereal rather than cook, it was easiest, and went to bed. She listened to her radio, and nothing else.
On Saturday afternoons, she went to the library to be somewhere nice. In the airy foyer, there were several pieces of art, all of which were donated by Arthur Hulston. She couldn’t escape him.
It was a miserable life, one she had hoped to avoid, but it was what it was. It was her place it seemed, at the bottom, a no one.
Five. Another direction
Rebecca was tired. Really tired. She’d worked two shifts at the café on Saturday, and was working the Sunday brunch shift too. It should have been her day off, but flaky Lou had flaked, and Rebecca couldn’t say no to Mandy.
Monday, a new girl would replace flaky Lou, and she could get some sleep. Not that she slept much anymore, her bedsit stank in the heat, not that it was that hot, even though it was only May, the downstairs neighbours were a nightmare, and it was too depressing.
Her cereal diet didn’t help. But she had to buy stuff every week. A duvet, a pillow, sheets, towels, it was never ending, and minimum wage wasn’t cutting it.
It was more than that though, she was really unhappy. She had come close to having a decent life again, it had been in reach, but life didn’t want to let her have it. She was starting again, for the second time, and each time she was failing, doing worse, fighting to survive.
She always feared it. Poverty, being like her mother, and she could feel it, hovering on the edge. The brunch crowd was thinning out, and she went to clear a table outside.
Arthur slowed at the traffic light, and looked about, it was busy for a Sunday, he looked up at the café open along the row of shops and boutiques, and saw a familiar figure.
He leant forward, the messy bun, her figure, and height, and when she turned, he saw it was Rebecca.
She looked lost, sad. She picked up the cups and plates in a neat stack, and she wiped the table. She’d been a manager. Now she was a waitress.
He pulled into the parking strip that ran along the shops and got out, just as she went in. He followed her, she was taking the things through to the back, and he didn’t hear the woman behind the counter talking to him.
“May I help you?”
He shook his thoughts off and spoke. “I need to speak to your waitress.”
“Is there a problem?”
“No, but I need to speak to her, now.”
Rebecca appeared, and faltered.
Arthur smiled, he couldn’t help it. It had been months, and he had been desperately looking for her all that time. He often caught himsel
f scanning crowds, making sure that anyone that looked remotely like her wasn’t her.
“How did you find me?”
She wasn’t smiling, anything but. He held up his hands. “I saw you as I was driving, no more. Please let me talk to you, please.” He looked so sincere. She nodded, thinking of Alice.
Mandy kept her eye on them.
Rebecca sat looking at the table, hands in her lap. She looked thin and tired. He needed to tread carefully.
“How are you?”
“Fine. How is Alice?”
“Honestly, not good. She took your leaving badly.”
“I’m sorry.”
“She misses you. She asks me to look for you all the time. I do, every day.”
“Tell her I’m sorry.”
“I was at fault, I should not have said what I did. It wasn’t fair to you. I didn’t mean leave that night, I wanted to help you.”
“It doesn’t matter.”
“Please accept my apology, and let me put it right.”
“There’s no need Mr Hulston.”
“Mr Hulston? Not Arthur?”
“We’re not friends.”
“I’d like us to be.”
“I don’t.” He sat back.
“As you wish. Mum needs you.”
“Why?”
“She took a turn for the worse, she was worried for you. She isn’t as strong now.”
“That’s my fault.”
“No, it’s mine. But now I need help. I need you. Won’t you come home?”
“Why?”
He sighed. “You never went back to your job. This is where you work now?”
“I file in an office in the afternoons. It’s flexible.” She shrugged.
“Where do you live?”
“Little Lane.” It was in the worst part of the Chadford. Old Victorian terraces and horrible small flats alongside halfway houses. It was notorious for crime, drugs, and prostitution.
“Jesus.”
“It’s a roof.”
“Let me put this right.”
“How?”
Getting a Life (New City Series Book 1) Page 5
