Safe With Me

by K. L. Slater

  Then Amanda Danson will notice a difference when she feels like popping round uninvited. And she’ll soon see justice moving along at a far quicker pace.

  The driver behind me sounds his horn in one continuous blast. My eyes spring open, and I lurch forward in my seat, catching my arm painfully on the door in the process.

  I look up ahead and realise that the cars in front have all moved on while I have been distracted.

  I glance in the mirror and watch the driver behind as his mouth forms exaggerated words. He clearly wants me to see him openly cursing.

  The warm, cosy feeling I had is swiftly replaced by an ice-cold bolt shooting through my body. I am sick and tired of people taking the piss out of me. The management at work, Amanda, and now this moron behind me. In that second, he seems to represent every single person who has ever disrespected me.

  I open the car door and get out in the middle of the busy road to a blur of noise and the smell of hot metal.

  I inhale the smog of exhaust fumes and everything comes into sharp focus. The gravel under my feet; the long line of drivers behind who are staring up ahead at me, their faces puzzled and wondering what is wrong.

  The driver behind me cannot move. His vehicle is sandwiched in between my car and the one behind him.

  I feel dizzy with bravado. My blood is buzzing around my body, urging me on.

  His mouth stops moving. Several car windows slide open and the other drivers crane their necks.

  I can’t lose face now, and I don’t want to give myself the chance to back down, so I let rip.

  ‘What is wrong with you?’ I scream, surprising myself with the strength of my reaction. ‘Why do people like you always think it’s perfectly okay to treat others like dirt on the bottom of your shoe?’

  My body feels rigid with the fury and tension that’s coursing through it.

  His window comes down a touch.

  ‘I wouldn’t need to if you’d get moving.’ His voice is calm and, I think, smug. ‘The cars in front left five minutes ago.’

  This is a ridiculous exaggeration.

  ‘The traffic has been gone about ten seconds,’ I hiss.

  He returns my glare but I sense he is now feeling slightly unsure of what I might do. His fingers tap the steering wheel, and his lips twitch up at one side.

  ‘A suit and tie and you think you can tell the whole fucking world what to do,’ I say, reminding myself he isn’t anyone I need to be afraid of or intimidated by.

  ‘I have an important meeting to get to,’ he says, his voice more reasonable. ‘Just get moving, please.’

  ‘And I am going to the hospital.’ I raise my voice again, shouting loud enough that the following two or three drivers will be able to hear if their windows are down. ‘My boyfriend is in intensive care; he nearly died in an accident.’

  The injustice of it all comes flooding back. My eyes prickle until I’m barely aware of my flailing arms and hysterical shouting.

  ‘He nearly died and all you can worry about is getting to work. He nearly died, you bastard!’

  Half-shocked, half-exhilarated by my own use of foul language in public, I turn and glare at the other drivers before getting back into my car. Traffic is streaming down the other side of the road so it’s impossible for anybody stuck behind me to get around my car.

  This feeling that I am powerful enough to obstruct and inconvenience them all in the midst of their perfect little lives spurs me on. It all feels deliciously dramatic, as if I’m the director on a film set.

  ‘You can all just bloody well wait,’ I shout triumphantly.

  I jump back in the car and flick my hazard lights on.

  A cacophony of car horns begins blaring behind me, and I turn the radio on full blast.

  Soon, the flow of traffic coming from the opposite direction ceases and cars behind start to drive around me – the obstruction. Some slow down right next to me and glare in but I keep my eyes straight forward with an IDon’tGiveaFlyingFuckadooWhatYouThink smile on my face, tapping my fingers on the steering wheel in time to the music.

  I watch through the mirror as the idiot behind me reverses back a short distance and then swerves out like a rally driver. I turn to glare as he overtakes me but, disappointingly, he doesn’t even glance in my direction.

  The remainder of my journey into work is uneventful but my mind is racing with the realisation that I have kept my head down my whole life, accepting the views and actions of others – even when I feel angry or humiliated.

  Today, my actions and words reflected how I was really feeling, and I can’t believe the relief and the power it generated in me. What a refreshing change to see other people looking unsure and shocked, forced to listen while I voice my opinion.

  It is an approach I intend using more frequently.

  Chapter 50

  Anna

  The delivery office car park is quieter than I thought it would be and I find myself wondering how many other staff members Jim has asked to come in.

  I have been so busy thinking about the disagreement with the driver that I have barely considered what the meeting might actually be about. I suppose it depends who else is here, too.

  I realise I have been a bit naïve accepting an out-of-work meeting request without confirming all the details first.

  I swallow hard, lock the car and walk slowly across the yard to give myself a few minutes to think over the possibilities.

  It dawns on me there is a very good chance that Jim wants to speak to me regarding further customer complaints about missing mail. If that is the case, I won’t panic. I will simply deny everything like I did last time he spoke to me. After all, I have managed to deliver a bit more than usual each day of my round, and soon, all of the backlog will be destroyed and I will have my long-awaited fresh start.

  Even better, if I can get Jim talking about his grandchildren or his mindnumbingly boring fishing trips, he will easily be distracted and will more than likely just shrug off any complaints, like he did last time.

  Then again, the meeting could easily be about the imminent round changes and could involve everyone. Jim has already spoken to us all individually about how we are coping on our respective rounds and has also flagged up possible changes to the rota organisation.

  I realise that, for the first time, I wouldn’t be totally averse to changing my round to doing something smaller. I have other things in my life now and work is not the be-all and end-all as it has been for the last few years. In fact, the possibility of a smaller round actually sounds quite tempting.

  It would give me more time to spend with Liam, develop our friendship and help get him firmly on the road to recovery. At the same time, I could ensure that Amanda Danson is brought to account for her despicable actions.

  I punch the security code into the keypad and enter the large, sprawling space. It seems eerily quiet compared to the busy working morning. As far as I can see, I am the only member of staff here.

  Tremors shiver down my arms and legs.

  ‘Hello, Anna.’ Jim waves to get my attention from over the other side of the room. I begin to walk towards him but he holds up his hand in a stop sign.

  ‘We’re not ready for you yet,’ he calls. ‘Could you wait over there, just for a few minutes?’

  ‘What’s this all about, Jim?’ I look past him, over his shoulder. Although the blind is drawn at his office I can still see movement behind the slats.

  ‘Get yourself a coffee from the machine, Anna,’ he calls again. ‘We’re just waiting for Mike Harvey to get here.’

  Then he turns and walks back into his room.

  I head blindly for the vending machine until I hear his office door close. A queasy wave rises up from my stomach but I swallow it back down and take a couple of deep breaths.

  ‘We’ are waiting, he said. Jim and who else, I wonder? And who is Mike Harvey? The name sounds familiar but I can’t quite place it.

  This meeting is starting to get a scarily official feel to
it.

  Jim had said to bring someone with me and now I wish I had. Although quite who, I’m not sure. I have nobody to call on.

  I stand near to the vending machine and position myself so I have a clear view of Jim’s office door.

  I look around me. All the workstations stand empty and numerous canvas postal bags are scattered about the floor. I have spent most weekday mornings in this space for the last five years and yet, today, it seems both strange and unfamiliar to me without the buzz of other people around.

  Overhead, fluorescent tubes flicker and buzz and I get an urge to run back outside into the fresh air and natural light. I close my eyes, try hard to calm my thoughts down.

  Even if there have been further complaints, what can they really do apart from ask me questions about my round? They have no hard evidence, just their suspicions.

  These days nobody can be sacked on mere suspicion; you have to have something concrete or an employee can sue the pants off you in a tribunal.

  I silently curse the two police officers who inadvertently stopped me burning the letters by their impromptu visit. If I hadn’t been interrupted, I could have destroyed a lot more of the backlog.

  Still, once all the mail upstairs has gone there will be no more complaints because I will be delivering everything on time again.

  I feel sure I can fend off one more meeting with Jim until I get to that position.

  I conclude that the worst-case scenario will be if they are looking for a redundancy. I don’t want to stop working completely, although I have substantial savings and no mortgage. But I need to get order back into my life again and work is a big part of that.

  I am, however, prepared to talk about cutting my hours down so maybe that will placate them.

  The seconds turn in to minutes. Long minutes.

  I don’t want a coffee from the bloody vending machine, I just want to get this meeting over and done with but there is still no movement from Jim’s room.

  I can’t imagine what they are doing in there.

  Perhaps my personal file is open on Jim’s desk, the confidential contents spilling out. Some nosy clerk could be in there right now, sorting through the entries and making notes on how long I’ve worked here or how much money they might save by cutting down my hours to virtually nothing.

  Sharp jabs of irritation start up in my gut.

  I remember my courage on the journey in here, the way I refused to let that other driver intimidate me.

  I believe that incident happened for a reason – to prepare me for this meeting. To remind me to stick up for myself and demand fair treatment as a loyal employee.

  I drop my head on to my left shoulder, then do the same on the right, trying to stretch and relax my neck. I stand up tall and pull my shoulders back, try to look like someone who refuses to put up with their bully-boy tactics.

  Jim’s door opens and out he comes. I hear the outer door open and bang shut again and we both look towards the entrance.

  Jim walks over to open the secure inside door and disappears through it. I hear discreet low voices out in the visitor area and, when Jim reappears, there is someone with him. A man.

  I crane my neck in an effort to see more but I can’t see who it is because Jim is nearest to me and blocking my view. They disappear into Jim’s office and the door closes again.

  It’s ridiculous. They are obviously playing mind games, keeping me waiting like a naughty schoolgirl. Well, I refuse to let them think I’m in the least bit unnerved. I am determined to appear confident.

  Jim’s door opens at last.

  ‘Anna, you can come through now.’

  I assume my surliest look, snatch up my handbag and walk – slowly and calmly at my own pace – over to his office.

  My flat boots clip the floor as I walk. With each step I silently repeat the mantra, stay calm, stay calm.

  Before I reach the door I can hear people talking: confidential mumblings about me that I am not allowed to listen to.

  I push open the door without knocking. A wave of heat sweeps over me when I look around.

  There are four people in there, including Jim. Their heads remain down while they study notes and shuffle papers with some importance.

  Jim’s desk has been pushed forward to afford more room and they all sit in a line behind it, like some kind of formal interview panel.

  The thought that this might actually be some kind of offer, an opportunity even, flits briefly through my mind. I have certainly heard of instances in the midst of office reorganisations where promotions have been offered to select, valued staff. Staff that have proven their loyalty and commitment.

  ‘Anna, please come in,’ Jim says, standing up and indicating the empty chair that faces everyone. ‘Thank you for coming back in at such short notice.’

  His formal tone instantly crushes any hope I might have had of a positive reason for the meeting.

  I sit down, ignoring the line of faces and busying myself zipping up my handbag. If they think I am going to look at them in awe or fear I’m afraid they are going to be sorely disappointed.

  ‘Anna, let me introduce everyone and then I’ll tell you why we asked you to come in this afternoon.’

  I keep my eyes steady and look back at Jim, ignoring the others.

  ‘This is Colin Freckleton,’ he indicates to his left. ‘From the Investigation Branch. On my right is. . .’

  Jim’s voice fades out as the two words amplify and echo in my head.

  Investigation Branch?

  For a second I think I’m going to slip from the chair.

  ‘Anna?’

  I lift my head and look at Colin Freckleton from the RMIB.

  ‘This is Mike Harvey from Head Office, HR department.’

  I glance at the man who arrived late. He is sitting at the end of the line and, for a second or two, I actually think I’m hallucinating. Our eyes meet and we both hold the stare. His face doesn’t flicker, doesn’t even twitch.

  I swallow, open my mouth and then close it again. I shake my head in an effort to dispel the roaring that fills my ears.

  ‘Anna?’ Jim’s voice sounds as if it’s coming from far away.

  In the list of Worst. Possible. Things. That. Could. Happen. this tops the fucking board.

  Mike Harvey is the driver who sat behind me in the traffic jam.

  Chapter 51

  Thirteen years earlier

  The following morning, Carla pulled into the school car park just before eight.

  She let out a cry as a dishevelled figure suddenly appeared from nowhere at her window.

  Carla turned off the engine and opened the door. It was Anna Clarke.

  ‘Please, Miss, you’ve got to help me.’

  The girl’s hair was tangled and her face filthy. Carla noticed she was shivering uncontrollably as if the damp cold air had seeped deep into her bones.

  ‘Does your mother know you’re here?’ Carla asked.

  Anna stared back at her, eyes wild and bottom lip trembling.

  ‘Something bad is going to happen to Danny, I know it. Please, you’ve got to help him.’

  Carla grabbed her handbag and locked the car. The girl was in danger of becoming hysterical. She’d have to come back out for the files later, after Anna had calmed down.

  ‘Come on, let’s get you inside and cleaned up and you can tell me all about it.’

  In her office, Carla handed Anna a strong cup of coffee. Unlike her brother, the girl couldn’t wait to offload her problems.

  As Carla suspected looking at her, Anna had slept rough last night.

  ‘Soon as you left last night she threw me out. I banged on the door twice in the night but she wouldn’t let me back in.’

  ‘Wasn’t there somewhere else you could go?’

  ‘Mrs Peat’s, next door,’ Anna shrugged. ‘But I couldn’t settle, I couldn’t sleep. I’d have kept her up all night too.’

  Carla felt heavy inside. Why had she broken regulations and gone to the hous
e so readily? The last thing she had wanted was to make things worse for Daniel and Anna.

  It was imperative she took the correct action from here on in.

  ‘At eight thirty the office opens, and I’m going to have to get other staff involved in this Anna,’ she said quietly.

  ‘No! You can’t miss, I—’

  ‘Anna, I have to. I shouldn’t have come over to the house like that last night. Now it looks like I’ve made things worse.’ Carla glanced at her watch. They had twenty minutes before the school office opened. ‘We still have a little time together. Can I ask you something?’

  The girl nodded. It was difficult, and again, she was pushing the ethics but Carla asked the question anyway.

  ‘In his first session, Danny told me there was a man watching him all the time. He said the man knew everything about him; he knew everything Danny did. Do you know who this person is?’

  Anna thought for a moment, then gave Carla a quick, doleful smile.

  ‘It’s not a person, miss. It’s God. He knows everything we do; He is watching all the time. It’s what Father MacCarrick tells the kids all the time at church.’

  Chapter 52

  Present day

  Anna

  Jim looks first at me and then back at Mike Harvey.

  ‘Is everything OK?’ Jim blinks and clears his throat.

  A strange lull takes over the proceedings as the other people on the panel look at each other, realising something is wrong.

  ‘I didn’t think I’d met Anna previously but I was mistaken.’ Mike Harvey looks coolly at me now that he is the one in a position of power. ‘We met on our way into the office today.’

  ‘He beeped me for no reason in the traffic queue behind me,’ I bluster before I can stop myself. ‘So I got out and gave him a piece of my mind.’

  ‘I see,’ Jim glances at the others. ‘That said, it doesn’t have any bearing on today’s meeting so I suggest we move on.’

  ‘I’m surprised to see you here, Anna.’ Harvey’s jaw tightens. ‘You said you were headed for the hospital to see your boyfriend in intensive care.’