The Runaway

by Martina Cole

  His voice was thick, as if he had a phlegmy cold, but she somehow knew this was how he always sounded. It was sick-making and Cathy swallowed down a mouthful of bile before she answered him. Something told her to beware of this man, that he was dangerous to her. Nevertheless, she stood up. Wiping her hands on her rough apron, she looked into the man’s face and said, gently but firmly, ‘I’m Cathy Connor and I shouldn’t be here.’

  Denise closed her eyes in shock and waited for the explosion she was sure was going to come.

  Instead, to her surprise, she heard Mr Hodges laugh gently.

  ‘From what I understand, Mrs Barton will soon remedy that situation. I’ll see you in my office at seven this evening.’ He walked deliberately across their clean floor and Denise let out a sigh of relief at his departure.

  Cathy looked down at her and said pleasantly: ‘Mr Hodges?’

  ‘Mr Arsehole Hodges himself,’ the other girl confirmed. ‘Tonight, tell him you think you’ve got a dose. Because he likes to break the new ones in. Funny, he don’t touch the likes of me. It’s the little ones like you he’s after. Skinny mares with blue eyes and a bit of tit.’

  She grinned and tried to lighten the situation. ‘Still, gives you something to look forward to, don’t it? Almost a date, if you think about it.’ She roared with laughter at her own joke and they carried on washing the floor in silence.

  Cathy felt sick with apprehension as the real force of her predicament hit her then. She had been chucked out of the frying pan and into the fire. Her eyes filled with tears and for the first time in years she wanted her mother. The thought of what Madge had done for her made her even more upset and she wished she could have her mother beside her once more.

  She hoped Madge was faring better than she herself, wherever they had sent her.

  Mr Hodges walked past them a while later and Cathy stared at his thin retreating back and stuck out her tongue. It was a childish gesture and she knew it would not do any good, but for those few seconds it made her feel much better.

  Chapter Ten

  Harold Peter Hodges was a secretive man. It was a conscious trait and had served him in good stead all his life. He had risen to be head of Benton School for Girls after taking over a young offenders’ institute in Dartmouth and terrorising the boys there so completely he was rewarded near retirement age with the cushier job of running a girls’ institution.

  For him it was a dream come true.

  Girls and boys of a certain age and build interested him. He kidded himself that he was a sort of father figure to them, taking a philanthropic interest only, but a few times over the years he had sailed pretty close to the wind. One young lad had committed suicide after an encounter with Hodges and that had caused a bit of an uproar. His mother, a meddling woman, had caused trouble before Hodges had finally managed to pull the wool over the investigating civil servant’s eyes.

  After all, he excused his actions to himself, just because he got a little lonely sometimes and maybe played with the children, it did not make him a bad person at heart. These were children who knew a lot from an early age. Nothing he did to them could ever be as bad as what they had experienced in their own sordid, deprived homes.

  He made himself believe this and after an attack, or as he termed it one of his ‘games’, he often went away for a while to a Catholic retreat, there to come to terms with his sin and properly repent of it.

  Not that it had ever stopped his lust from recurring. Now the new girl had intrigued him. It was her small build that had caught his eye. She was nearly fourteen, he understood, but looked like a much younger child.

  Her direct stare had been a challenge to his authority, though it had amused and excited him too. She obviously needed taking down a peg and he was the man to do it. According to Miss Henley, she was another of Barton’s fuck ups. He would have to wait to do anything really effective until the girl was legally in their custody. But he could live with that.

  In fact, the waiting would be an added stimulus. And tonight he would start the game . . . His breathing quickened in anticipation.

  She would taste so sweet - the girls always did - though he preferred boys in many ways. They were easier to cow. The act of buggery broke the most strong-minded lad. It was that fear and the vulnerability of the children that gave him the desired feeling of absolute power. Made him feel strong and capable of fulfilling his sexual fantasies.

  He had never been able to perform a sexual act with an adult, no matter how he tried. It was this that had brought him to working with children. Outwardly he came over as a caring and kind teacher, having taught in legitimate private schools at first, though that had been dangerous to an extent because his colleagues had realised eventually that there was something not quite right with him. That there was something missing.

  It had taken a chat with a likeminded fellow to lead him in the direction of the correctional institutions. Here the children were captive and pliant. For the most part anyway.

  The evening meal over, the girls were allowed an hour’s recreation. This consisted of playing cards or chatting. Denise used this time to sort out any problems she had encountered during the day with the various girls she minded.

  The smaller or younger girls would give part of their allowance to her in exchange for protection. Some of the girls had families who would send in money or leave it on visits; this was used to help make their stay at Benton easier and happier.

  One of these girls was a tiny mouselike child called Cynthia. She was very, very upper-class and they called her Lady C. She had burned her sisters to death quite deliberately. Taking the two younger girls out for a walk, she had doused them with petrol and set them alight, watching as they both went up in flames. Everyone was wary of her; Denise watched her closely, remarking to the others that even the biggest nutter must give way when they met a complete lunatic. Lady C was a lunatic.

  Small and waiflike, she had terrible temper tantrums that amazed the other girls with their violence. Then, for months, she would be docile and pliant as could be. Now she was after a box of matches, a regular request from Lady C though no one was daft enough to let her have them. The last thing they wanted was to be burned to death in a locked room, and with her that would most definitely be the upshot.

  Lady C made her way over to Cathy and smiled. Cathy, already warned about her, smiled back in friendly fashion. In Lady C’s face was a childlike happiness, and for a few seconds Cathy saw her the way she could have been, before madness struck and she murdered her own flesh and blood.

  ‘I hear you’re to see Hodges?’

  Cathy nodded and the girl’s face clouded over. Her fine features became pinched and drawn, eyes just a little unfocused, her mouth too tight for a girl’s. She looked like a very old woman in a child’s body. She picked constantly at her pinafore with excessively long nails which had apparently been used more than once as weapons, especially when a temper was on her.

  ‘I like your hair,’ she said.

  Cathy unconsciously put her hand to her head. ‘Thank you.’

  Lady C nodded happily. ‘I like you.’

  Cathy smiled, and thanked her once again. Denise was watching the performance with interest. It was unusual for Lady C to instigate a conversation that wasn’t to do with matches. She waited for this to come up, ready to put her off.

  ‘Mr Hodges isn’t a nice man. You must be very careful,’ the girl warned Cathy solemnly. Opening her hand, Lady C placed a small blade on the table. ‘Take that with you. It might help you when he begins his games.’

  All eyes were on the small sharp blade before them. Denise’s were like saucers. ‘Where the hell did you get that?’

  Lady C grinned. ‘I stole it from the workman who was mending the doors.’

  Denise frowned. ‘But that was ages ago. You’ve had it all this time?’

  Lady C grinned once more. ‘I want it back, though. I need it myself.’ Her refined voice was hard, not like a child’s at all. ‘I want it
for Mrs Barton. I owe her.’

  All the girls were amazed. It was the first time she had ever voluntarily joined in a conversation. The blade was such a shock most of them stood staring at it as if they expected it to disappear.

  Denise picked up the blade and whistled softly. ‘Fuck me, you’re a dark horse!’

  Lady C’s face was sad as she answered, ‘Your language is terrible, Denise.’

  The big one laughed. ‘I know. And you’re frightening, lady. You’ve had this blade for months.’

  ‘I’ve another as well. The man was changing them all the time and as he threw them away, I would just retrieve them from the bin in the kitchen. It was easy. No one watches me, really. Not unless there’s matches around anyway.’ She was pleased as punch. Happy to have put one over on everyone.

  ‘Mark him with it, but not where it will show,’ she instructed Cathy. ‘Not the face. Maybe the stomach or his hands. Let him know you’re not putting up with him.’ Lady C kept her voice low. ‘Don’t let him get to you.’

  Cathy picked up the blade and stared at it, fascinated.

  Lady C grinned. ‘You’d be surprised at the things I hear and see and manage to get hold of.’

  Denise, all ears now, smiled in a winning way at the girl and said, ‘Sit yourself down and have a proper chat.’

  But Lady C shook her head, her face clouding over as she snapped, ‘I’m not stupid! You think you’ll find out what I have and then you’ll try and get it all from me.’ Staring at Cathy for a moment, she said gently: ‘Use it. Make him pay.’

  As she walked away the girls all watched her in silence.

  ‘What a nutter!’ Denise said under her breath, because as small as Lady C might be, she was still a bona fide lunatic and as such you didn’t upset her without just cause - and at least a claw hammer as a weapon.

  Cathy looked at the blade once more and Denise took it from her hand.

  ‘You won’t need it anyway. Until they get you here properly, you’re pretty safe. When the courts sign the papers, I mean. All he’ll do today is play with you. Scare you. I know because he did the same with Sally when she first arrived. He daren’t do anything more in case someone turns up to claim you or take you somewhere else. One last word of warning: he stinks. Keep as far away as possible.’

  Cathy nodded, trying to take in everything and put it in some kind of order in her mind. It was difficult, and seeing the look on her face, Denise grasped her hand.

  The bigger girl’s face was full of understanding as she said gently, ‘Don’t let the old bugger get you down, he ain’t worth it. None of them are. They act as if we’re the shit on their shoes when in reality we’re better than any of them. We are children, they are adults. They know we’re their captives, that we can’t go anywhere or tell anyone. But we fight back in our own way and you must learn to do it as well.

  ‘Let him know you were the killer, not your mother, but don’t admit it outright. Put the frighteners on the dirty old bastard and then keep your head. Use the bloody blade if it’ll make you feel better, but bear in mind that if you mark him, he has something against you and can keep you here even longer.’

  Cathy digested this information and nodded. In the last few days her life had been turned upside down, and she was sometimes hard put to sort herself out and try and survive what was happening. It was getting harder by the day.

  ‘My boyfriend will come for me,’ she said with pathetic bravado. ‘Eamonn will come for me, I just know he will.’

  Denise shrugged and smiled. ‘’Course he will, love, and fairies live at the bottom of our garden.’

  Cathy frowned. Sighing heavily, Denise said: ‘Get real, for Christ’s sake. There is a way out, but it’s disgusting. If you really want to go for it, I’ll come with you. But that’s in the future. For the moment, just be happy with surviving tonight and the next few weeks.’

  Before Cathy could answer, Deirdre came into the room with the two female wardens. They were not in fact referred to as wardens but as care assistants, though as both were burly, heavy-set and assertive, Miss Brown and her companion Miss Jones obviously served that function. They were respected by all the girls for their superior strength and fairness. The women did their job and kept their own counsel. Not exactly friendly, they were impartial and never abused their power like Mr Hodges, Miss Henley or even Deirdre.

  Now Miss Brown wagged a finger at Cathy and said, ‘Follow me. Mr Hodges requests your presence.’

  Cathy walked out of the now silent room and followed the woman fearfully. Miss Brown had huge feet encased in brown brogues. Her fat calves were visible through black stockings and Cathy watched them as they fought inside the nylon like a pair of melons, wobbling with each step.

  When the woman stopped, Cathy nearly walked into her. Turning round, Miss Brown looked down at her and said gently: ‘Frightened?’

  Cathy nodded, all blue eyes and stretched skin. Her face had paled to a sickly grey. She looked into a raw-boned face, almost Russian in appearance. The woman’s huge arms were barely concealed by her cardigan and blouse. She resembled a man in female clothes. Unexpectedly she smiled, revealing crooked teeth.

  ‘Don’t be. I’ll look out for you, love.’

  Tapping on Mr Hodges’s door, she opened it and ushered Cathy into the room. ‘Miss Connor for you, Mr Hodges.’

  The man stared at them both for a second and then said, ‘You may go, Brown.’

  Miss Brown turned, saying as she left the room: ‘I’ll be outside, sir, ready to take her back to her room when you’ve finished.’

  Cathy watched him close his eyes and then say through his teeth, ‘I will ring when I need you, thank you very much.’

  Miss Brown turned to face him and said heavily, ‘It’s in the statute book: “I must wait outside and return each girl to their designated room after any meeting with or unscheduled appearance before members of the staff”. It is to protect you, sir, as well as the child.’ She stressed the word ‘child’ and Cathy was made aware of the tension between the two adults in front of her.

  ‘Miss Brown.’ Mr Hodges’s voice was hard now, low and menacing. ‘I need to talk to the child, to assess her.’

  Miss Brown smiled. ‘She is not really supposed to be here, sir. Without the appropriate documentation, it is my job and Miss Jones’s to see that everything is kept above board. After all, you wouldn’t want to find yourself being investigated, would you, over something a child might say?’

  She smiled at them both. ‘I’ll just be outside. Call if you need me.’

  Cathy knew that the last words were as much for her as for Mr Hodges, and felt a lifting of her spirits. She had friends and allies in this hell-hole, and the knowledge was some consolation.

  Shutting the door gently, the woman left.

  Cathy clutched the blade in her hand as she looked at the man sitting behind the large ornate desk.

  He smiled at her, a lascivious smile. Cathy had seen the same smile on men’s faces when her mother brought them home. It had always augured trouble for her and so she didn’t smile back. Instead she looked at a spot just above the man’s head and waited for him to speak.

  Hodges kept silent, enjoying her fear. He looked her over from head to foot, and when he pushed himself up from his chair the action made Cathy jump.

  He grinned. ‘Don’t be frightened. I won’t hurt you, my dear. I just need to ask you a few questions.’

  The blade was burning a hole in her hand. As he made his way slowly towards her, she felt her breathing quicken. Her mouth was dry and her heart was beating like a drum in her ears, the sound deafening.

  She took a step back.

  Frowning, Hodges stood before her, his sheer height intimidating to the girl before him. She could already smell the sourness of his breath and acrid body odour.

  Unlike her encounters with her mother’s friends, where she could walk away, run out of the flat or scream the place down, here there was no escape. She knew that without Miss Brown o
utside the door she would have been in real trouble. This man could have done whatever he liked, as often as he liked, with nothing to stop him.

  ‘Keep still, girl. I have no intention of following you around my office.’

  As his hand came down on her shoulder, she whimpered. The man liked this. Loved it. A child’s fear was all part of the enjoyment for him and he smiled at her then, a nice friendly smile.

  ‘Sit yourself down, girl.’ He pointed to a chair and Cathy stumbled to it, glad to sit before her legs gave beneath her.

  Reseating himself on the far side of his desk, he stared at her for long moments. ‘Do you know why you’re here?’

  She shook her head. ‘I shouldn’t be here. I’ve done nothing. My mother took the blame.’ Cathy was aware of what she had to do, and as she spoke her voice became stronger and clearer.

  Mr Hodges frowned, unsure what she meant. ‘Could you repeat that, please?’

  Cathy spoke up loudly. ‘I said, my mother took the blame.’ She made herself smile as she saw the look of shock on his face.

  ‘Do you realise what you just said?’ His voice was almost jovial in his excitement.

  Cathy took her courage in both hands and shook her head. ‘I never said anything. Nothing at all, sir.’

  Screwing up his eyes, indeed his whole face, he stared at the girl before him. He could have sworn on a stack of Bibles that she would not have the guts to come back at him, but there was more to her than met the eye.

  He had big manly looking Brown outside the door and couldn’t have any real fun, and on top of that, this slip of a thing was covertly threatening him. She actually dared threaten him! He would have to sort something out, here and now, or he would lose the advantage. Stepping away from the desk, he was on her in seconds and the blow which connected with her ear was sharp and painful, nearly knocking her from the chair.

  Cathy felt the blade dig painfully into her palm as she squeezed her hands together and blood began to flow. Keeping both fists clenched, she knew she must not let him see the weapon unless she had to use it. It was evidence, it could be used against her.