Run, Zan, Run

by Cathy MacPhail

  Then a man appeared in the doorway. A long, thin man. He leaned against the door smoking a cigarette, looking up and down the street. Katie froze. She actually froze. She couldn’t move. She wouldn’t be able to run. Now she knew what they meant when they said ‘paralysed with fear’. Something about Mr Whittaker frightened her more than she could explain. She knew she had to get away from him. She took a deep breath. ‘I’ve run away from Ivy Toner,’ she told herself. ‘This is going to be a dawdle.’ She just wished she could believe that.

  His eyes swept the street. At last, he saw her. He threw the cigarette away. His body tensed. Katie turned from him. She could move! She could run!

  ‘Hey you, girl!’

  Good. He hadn’t recognized her as Katie. Not yet. She began to run and heard his footsteps behind her, too close. She put on an extra spurt, breathless already. I’ll never keep this up. She could hear others joining in the chase.

  ‘Stop!’

  ‘We won’t hurt you!’

  ‘Come back. We don’t mean you any harm.’

  Still she ran. Katie never knew she could run like this. Like the wind. Like Zan.

  She heard a startled cry behind her and glanced back. Mr Whittaker had gone flying on a patch of ice. A couple behind him, too late to stop, stumbled on top of him. It was comical, but she didn’t have time to laugh. For suddenly, she could see her father, weaving in and out, catching up on them all. She turned and raced on.

  Her legs were growing weak now. Her heart pounding. Any time now, she would have to stop. They would catch her.

  She turned a corner, and was grabbed! ‘Got you!’ It was a woman, pinning Katie against her. ‘I’ve got her! I’ve got her!’ Katie pummelled her fists against the woman, tried to push her away, but the woman was stronger. ‘You silly wee fool,’ she said. ‘We only want to help you.’

  Then Mr Whittaker bounded round the corner and grabbed her shoulders. His fingers bit into Katie’s arms painfully. Why was he being so rough if he only wanted to help her? She struggled as he turned her round to face him.

  ‘You!’ His eyes blazed with anger. His grip tightened even more. For a moment Katie was sure he was going to slap her. She swallowed. She had never felt so much like fainting in her life. Then her father appeared. He took one look at Katie and his face drained of all its colour.

  ‘Katie!’ he said, and there was shock and surprise and disappointment just in the way he said it. ‘Katie.’

  ‘I thought it would keep Ivy Toner from bothering me. That’s why I did it.’

  She had tried to explain a dozen times to them, but the faces glowering back at her had no understanding in them.

  ‘What a terrible trick to play on your father,’ one woman said, her eyes cold and accusing.

  ‘I did try to tell you, Dad. But you wouldn’t believe me.’

  He looked at her for a long time. ‘I still don’t understand, Katie.’ He turned to Mr Whittaker. ‘It looks as though those crazy stories are true. Katie and this girl … well, there is no other girl, is there?’ Katie caught sight of herself in an old mirror lying askew against the wall. She looked tiny and vulnerable, not tough and strong the way Zan would look. She could almost see her reflection shimmer until Zan was looking back at her. Sitting up straight, defiance in her face, ready to run at the first opportunity. Let’s face it, Katie told herself, Zan wouldn’t even have got caught.

  She was cold. So cold. There was tea being dished out to all and sundry. People were standing around her warming their hands round steaming mugs. No one had offered her anything yet and she didn’t think they ever would.

  ‘It looks as if I’m wasting my time here,’ Mr Whittaker said at last.

  Katie almost jumped to her feet in delight. It had worked! He was going. Zan could stay. That was worth everything. She’d make it up to her parents, all these lies. She made a promise right then. ‘I will never lie again. I will devote the rest of my life to doing good works for the homeless.’ Working with her father in Community Halls all over the country … the world even. She saw herself as a sort of Mother Teresa. A living saint. Receiving the Nobel Prize for Peace while her adoring mother and father looked on. She was going to make them proud of her.

  ‘Well, I’m going to take this one home,’ her father said, lifting her to her feet.

  ‘And give her a good walloping when you get there, Douglas,’ some charitable soul suggested.

  Ha! Katie had never had a walloping in her life, and her father wasn’t going to start now. At least … she hoped he wasn’t.

  ‘I’ve got an advert running in tonight’s paper,’ Mr Whittaker said. ‘Too late to stop it. I suppose.’

  Katie’s ears pricked up.

  ‘An advert?’ her father asked.

  ‘The usual thing … if anyone knows of the whereabouts, etc. I’ll probably be inundated with letters telling me your daughter is the one I’m looking for.’ His cold eyes fell again on Katie, all pretence of a smile gone. ‘Wish I hadn’t offered a reward.’

  Katie was relieved. At last, Mr Whittaker would be out of their lives in a few days.

  Katie couldn’t wait to tell Zan, but how she was going to contact her she didn’t know. She was grounded. The ninety-nine years her father had first suggested had been commuted by her mother to a month. Until Christmas. She was allowed out to go to school, and that was it. She was given half an hour to get home every day. Her father refused to speak to her, and even her mother was dry with her. She knew they were growing more distant every day, yet she couldn’t do anything about it.

  Still, Katie didn’t despair. She had done what she had to do to help Zan. If she could explain to them, they would approve. She knew they would. And Christmas was coming. She loved Christmas. Her parents would relent. They would have parties and fun and laughter. How she wanted Zan to share in it all. If only, she thought, Zan could be with them for Christmas.

  ‘Can I see you at break, Katie?’ Mr Percy asked.

  ‘Yes sir. What about, sir?’

  He waved an answer away. ‘I’ll see you in my room by the gym, Katie,’ he said, hurrying off.

  What could he want her for? That ‘idea’ of his? Or did he know about Friday? Certainly everyone else in the school did. There had been delight that what they had always believed had finally been proved to be true. There was anger from Miss Withers. Silent anger, and looks that could kill. And there was confrontation with Ivy.

  She was standing in a corner of the corridor as Katie hurried to Mr Percy’s room later that day. She was trying to hide the cigarette she was smoking, but as Katie approached the smell from her breath alone would have given her away.

  Katie took a deep breath and tried to hurry past her.

  ‘Think you’ve fooled everybody, don’t ye?’ Ivy began to follow behind her. ‘But I know this other lassie’s here. I know it. And I’m goin’ to prove it.’

  Katie turned. Only a step away from Mr Percy’s room. Safe to be brave, she decided. ‘Go on then. Prove it.’ She threw the words at her like a challenge. Ivy was too stupid to prove anything. She and Zan were much too smart for her.

  Ivy flicked the lit cigarette at Katie angrily. ‘I’m gonny. You better believe it!’

  Katie was still shaking as she knocked on Mr Percy’s door. Still afraid of Ivy. The habit of a lifetime dies hard.

  ‘Come in, Katie.’

  He pointed her to a chair and she sat down. He began to stride about the room. He was wearing the school football strip, with a whistle strung round his neck, and he looked slightly ridiculous. ‘So, I believe you just suddenly turn yourself into a kind of Superwoman character … is that right?’ Was he making a fool of her? She was sure he was.

  ‘OK, that’s your business,’ he said, when she made no reply. ‘What I want to talk about is this. You and I both know bullying goes on in this school. How do we get to the root of the problem, Katie? You’ve suffered. I think you’ve thought about it. That’s why you suggested selfdefence classes. So … what el
se can we do?’

  She couldn’t believe it. He was asking her for advice?

  ‘First,’ she said, ‘I’d make sure every child who complained about bullying was believed. Too often you’re told, “Oh, but we need proof of that.”’

  ‘But that’s true, we have to have proof.’

  ‘But they’re fly, bullies. They will always wait till nobody’s there. Till you’re alone. And you have no witnesses. It should be looked into at the first complaint … bullies never do it just the once. They always have a reputation for bullying – why should you need so much proof? I’d give them only three warnings, their parents should be told, and then they’d be out.’

  ‘Don’t you think, Katie, that to get to the root of the trouble we should perhaps be finding out why these pupils find it necessary to bully in the first place? They probably have problems at home … If we could … if we could find out what these problems are … help them … Where are you going, Katie?’

  Katie was heading for the door. ‘Did you listen to what you just said, sir? You’ve turned it round. Teachers always do. Instead of worrying about the child who is being bullied, they start worrying about the bully.’

  ‘I didn’t mean …’

  ‘That’s why it’ll never be solved, sir, because the first priority is never the child who’s being bullied. Why don’t you try to protect the pupils in danger first? You could form a committee of older pupils. To look after new pupils, especially the ones who are different …’ she thought of little Nazeem, ‘… the ones no one else wants to be friendly with.’ She thought of Teresa Henderson. ‘Bullies only pick on the weakest. They can’t get you if you’ve got friends. And sometimes your friends desert you because they’re frightened too, and they’re so glad it’s not them that’s being picked on. But if there was a group of older pupils you knew you could go to, who would never desert you, do you know how much that would mean, sir? When you’re just all alone and you’ve got nobody to turn to.’ She was reliving all those weeks and months when she had lived in fear of going to school.

  ‘Do you not think you’re being a wee bit unfair, Katie? The teachers are always here to help.’

  ‘The teachers!’ Katie was almost ready to cry. ‘Do you know, sir, the day Ivy Toner shoved my head down the lavatory pan …’ The tears began to fall now, as she remembered the shame, the humiliation. She could see herself now, hurtling along the corridor. ‘I ran to Miss Withers, she was our class teacher, and do you know what she said, sir …?’

  Mr Percy looked upset. She knew her tears were upsetting him. Well, let them!

  ‘Do you know what she said, sir?’ she repeated. ‘She said … “Poor Ivy … she must have some terrible problems at home if she’s resorting to this kind of behaviour!”’

  Katie didn’t wait for his reaction. She flung open the door and slammed straight into Miss Withers herself. She was ashen-faced with anger. She had heard everything, and Katie didn’t care.

  ‘Yes, you did, Miss. You did!’ And she ran, her feet clattering down the corridor.

  I’ll be expelled, she thought as she made her way home. That’s OK. I’ll be sent to the posh school, Riverside Academy. Mum’s always wanted me to go there. No, I won’t, she decided. They’d never risk sending me there. No. It’s borstal for me.

  It seemed no matter how hard she tried to solve her problems, she just entangled them more and more about her.

  She was almost glad to be home. She went straight to her room and lay down on the bed. She tried to think of all the good things that were happening. She had helped Zan. Mr Whittaker would be leaving soon. Mr Percy really wanted to help, or at least he had until her outburst … Nothing helped. The black mood brought on by the memories of all she had been through, all she had suffered from Ivy, just wouldn’t lift. It just wasn’t fair. The distance between herself and her parents was widening every day. She felt more alone than she ever had, except for Zan. Why couldn’t her parents understand? Why couldn’t they trust her?

  She heard the phone ring faintly, and her mother answer it. Then her father’s strident voice calling her made her jump. It was not a friendly call. ‘KATIE! COME DOWN HERE RIGHT NOW!’

  Oh, no, she thought, what had she done now?

  Her father was at the bottom of the stairs glaring up at her as she came down. Her mother looked just as angry, but puzzled too. Suddenly, Katie had had enough. She wasn’t going to be little Katie with tears in her eyes, wanting them to understand. She was going to stand up to them. She’d done nothing to be ashamed of. She lifted her head high. ‘So?’ she asked. ‘What am I blamed for this time?’

  Her father’s eyes flashed. ‘Don’t you take that tone with me, girl.’

  ‘That’s just the attitude that’s causing all the problems,’ her mother said.

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘That was Miss Withers on the phone,’ her father told her through gritted teeth. ‘She wants us to come in to the school tomorrow to discuss … your deteriorating attitude. It seems you were quite the little madam today at school.’

  ‘We always brought you up to respect your teachers!’ her mother snapped.

  Katie looked from one to the other. ‘I don’t believe this,’ she said. ‘All I did was tell the truth. Miss Withers didn’t like it, so she calls you. Did Ivy Toner’s parents ever get a call like that from Miss Withers, I wonder?’

  ‘Maybe the difference is that Ivy Toner’s parents didn’t care. We do. What is happening, Katie?’

  ‘I wouldn’t do anything bad, Dad. You know that.’

  ‘I don’t know anything any more,’ her father said. ‘All these lies. You’re changing Katie. Everyone sees it. You expect us to trust you. Why don’t you trust us? Tell us what’s going on?’

  Katie hesitated. She wanted to tell them everything at that moment. Sure enough of them that they would protect Zan, just as she was. Or would they? Their help would mean discovery for Zan. It would mean Mr Whittaker finding her, even if he might eliminate her as the girl he was looking for. It would mean betraying Zan. Breaking her promise. She couldn’t do that.

  Her father’s patience was wearing thin. ‘This is your last chance to tell the truth. What’s going on, Katie?’

  It was a dilemma and she couldn’t see a way out of it. She pushed her knuckles into her mouth and bit them. She couldn’t tell. She couldn’t.

  She’d never seen that look in her father’s eyes before. Disgust, anger, disappointment. ‘I don’t know you any more,’ he said bitterly. Then he turned from her. ‘Get out of my sight. If I never see you again, it’ll be too soon!’

  Katie gasped. Even her mother was shocked. ‘Douglas!’

  ‘That’s OK by me!’ Katie screamed. ‘I hope I never see you again. Either of you!’

  She ran up to her room and cried for a long time. She’d show them. They didn’t trust her? They didn’t believe anything she said? Fine. She was fed up with them, and with living by their rules and regulations.

  Look at Zan. Her own boss. She’d done all right without her parents. Living rough. No one told her what to do. Well, she could be like Zan. No one was ever going to tell her what to do again. She and Zan. Together. Life would be an adventure. She saw herself leaving this town. Leaving all her troubles behind her. It was the only way out. She was enmeshed in so many lies, and to tell the truth about Zan was the only way out. She could never do that. No. Life on the road with Zan was the only freedom.

  She sat up and wiped the tears from her eyes. A decision made. Her dad didn’t want to see her again? Well, he wouldn’t have to. She was going to run away. With Zan!

  Chapter Twelve

  Katie had never been so terrified in all her life. Had Zan moved? This had been her place. In the cardboard box in a corner of this old tenement flat. Tonight, in midnight blackness, she had tiptoed in and shaken the figure sleeping there.

  It hadn’t been Zan. Instead, an old man with a grey beard that looked as if he kept his next meal in it had turned a bleary,
puzzled eye on her. Katie screamed and jumped back. The old man did the same.

  ‘This is Zan’s place,’ Katie said. ‘A girl. She lives here.’

  ‘This is my place!’ he said gruffly. ‘My place!’

  Katie stood in the mouth of the derelict close, freezing with cold and fear. It was pouring with icy rain. What a night to decide to leave home! She sat on her case and tried to think what to do next. If she couldn’t find Zan, she would sleep herself in one of these old empty closes. Herself. The word echoed in her mind. herself. Alone. In the cold. In the dark. She shivered. She must find Zan! But where?

  She had never felt this cold, or this frightened. Then she remembered Ivy, and knew she had. Things had been worse than this. Not a lot. But they had been worse.

  What would she do if she couldn’t find Zan? Perhaps she had left town after all. No! She wouldn’t do that. Not without telling Katie. She was good at hiding. Hadn’t she always told Katie that? Zan was hiding somewhere. All Katie had to do was find her.

  One thing she couldn’t do was go home. She’d never go home again. Her parents didn’t really care about her. They didn’t believe in her. She saw herself years from now when she was old, twenty maybe, returning to her aged mother and father. She could picture them, her father with his zimmer, her mother knitting in a rocking-chair by the fire. First she would have to learn to knit, of course, but that was probably something you picked up as you got on in years. Katie would only return then. Successful and famous for all her good works. One of those newspapers that always had pictures of naked women in them had just run a story, ‘The Angel of Mercy’. That would be Katie. It would tell of how she’d had to leave home because her parents didn’t trust her. They thought she was bad. Because of that story they had received hate mail, and threatening letters. So Katie had returned, to assure them she held no grudges. They had ruined her young life, destroyed her childhood, but she forgave them!

  Yes, she could see it all.

  ‘What are you doing here!’

  Heart attack time! Katie almost fainted. It was Zan!