by Bo Brennan
“You met many people through loveonline then?” not so Gorgeous George said.
“No, you're my first,” Terri lied. “You?”
“A few,” he said. “None as nice as you mind.”
Or at least none as desperate, she thought. Terri straightened her cutlery as the waiter brought their drinks. The online dating site had her and George as a 100% profile match. They obviously knew something she didn't. She supposed sexual chemistry wasn't everything. “So, you're a social worker then George?”
“For nearly twenty five years,” he said, and rolled his eyes as he guzzled his drink. “Seen it all I can tell ya.”
“I've never understood why Social Workers aren't based in schools,” Terri said thoughtfully twiddling the stem of her wine glass. “School is a nice neutral environment for the kids. Problems are far more likely to be caught early on if they can come to you.”
“Christ, don't go shouting that hair brained idea from the rooftops,” he said beckoning the waiter for a refill. “I've got my work cut out as it is.”
Terri frowned. “Surely it would make your job easier with all the kids in one place. There’s a hell of a lot more houses than schools.”
George stared at her. “What age do you teach?” he said.
“What does that matter?” Terri sipped from her wine and relented when George's silent stare continued. “Secondary school. Eleven to sixteen.”
“And how many are there, Teacher Terri?”
She raised a shoulder, not sure it mattered. “Just over a thousand in the whole school.”
“I've got three hundred and twelve kids on my book alone,” he said leaning forwards in his seat. “Believe me - that's enough.”
Terri snorted. “Just because there's a thousand kids doesn't mean they'll all want your help. Hell, half the ones I teach don't even want to be taught!”
He shook his head and downed his drink. “You stick to the teaching and I'll stick to the saving.”
The waiter smiled as he brought their food and topped up Terri's wine, before removing her date's glass for refilling. George wiped his mouth with his jacket sleeve and stared at the bottle. “You won't be able to manage all that on your own will you?” he said.
Terri downed her full glass in one and gripped the neck of the bottle possessively. “Oh, I think I will.”
He ate like a pig and spoke with his mouth full. Terri pushed her plate aside when a chewed piece of pepperoni landed on it. During the meal, he left the table three times. His bladder worked on a pint-in pint-out basis, or so he claimed. Each time he came back from the loo, the stench of nicotine was stronger. So much for quitting like his profile said.
Terri sighed. Past caring about his profile porkies she drained the dregs of the wine bottle into her glass. If nothing else, it was a pleasant change to share the company of a grownup - a man at that. But not pleasant enough to share again.
“I'm stuffed,” he slurred pushing his empty plate away and signalling the waiter for the bill. “I'll settle up and we'll make a move, yeah?”
Terri nodded and squinted at her watch. It was a school night and she was pissed. She pulled her purse from her bag as the waiter arrived with the bill.
“Put your money away, it's on me,” George said pulling a wad of notes from his pocket, ignoring her protestations to split it. She liked to pay her way, and Olivio’s wasn't cheap. The bottle of wine she'd devoured was nigh on thirty quid alone.
He brushed her arm away, knocking her credit card from her hand as she insisted on paying her share. The waiter was quick to retrieve it for her. “Thanks,” she mumbled taking it from him and blowing a breath up her face as she secured it back in her purse.
“You’re going back to Winchester too, right?” George said. Terri nodded. “We'll share a cab. Get us a cab as well, mate,” he said to the waiter as he peeled off the bank notes.
Terri sighed and leant an elbow on the table.
The waiter looked to her for approval. “Cab for two, Miss?” he enquired.
She smiled and nodded, the sooner she could get home the better.
George pressed a ten pound note into the waiter's hand and winked as he said, “We'll wait outside, mate.”
Outside the air was warm. The last remnants of summer daylight clung to the distant horizon. Terri felt nauseous. Too much good wine had made up for the bad company. George seemed unaffected by the bottle of vodka he'd sunk.
“You gonna dress up for me or what?” George said taking her hand and pulling her into the shadows near the restaurant bins. Terri's blurry eyes glanced down at her new dress. She thought she had. “I've got a schoolie outfit with split crotch panties back at mine,” he murmured. “You'd look great on my face.”
Her stomach lurched, her face felt flushed. She was rat arsed and couldn't see straight, maybe she wasn't hearing straight either. “Do what?”
“I shagged one of your lot last month,” he said rubbing himself against her as he licked her ear. “But she had to bring her own uniform, mine wouldn't fit.”
“What the fuck?” she slurred, drunkenly stumbling back against the bins and deeper into darkness
“Don't be shy,” he said trying to stick his tongue down her throat. “You prissy little teachers are filthy fuckers.”
Terri clumsily shoved him away, her handbag sliding off her shoulder and spilling its contents on the pavement. “Get the fuck off me you pervert.”
He slammed her up against the festering bin and used his considerable body weight to hold her there. “You owe me for dinner,” he snarled pushing up her dress and grabbing her between the legs. “Don't pretend you don't want it, that's what you're here for.”
For a split second Terri was stunned into submission, no match for a bloke his size. Then she remembered her sister's advice and brought her knee up hard into George's gonads. He dropped like a rock to his knees, groaning. She hastily began collecting her things from around him, her heart beating like a drum.
Her lipstick was near his leg. She hesitated to retrieve it. She'd already broken her sister’s advice by collecting up her things. A kick in the nuts buys enough time to get the hell out of there, she'd said. Forget your shit, just run. He'll be mad as hell when he gets to his feet and you don't want to hang around for that. But she and her sister lived in different worlds. And that lipstick cost her twenty quid. Her sister wouldn’t go without it - she’d stamp on his head to keep him down - so Terri wasn't going without it either.
She reached for it. His sausage fingers wrapped around her arm. She reeled backwards struggling to pull free, but his grip tightened. She felt her jacket seam give way at her shoulder as he used her to drag himself to his feet. George was red with rage as he lunged towards her. Terri was in deep shit. As his full body weight slammed her into the bins, she started to scream.
The waiter came from nowhere. He had George's arm up his back and his face squashed into the rubbish in seconds. “Are you all right?” he said to Terri. “Do you need the police, or an ambulance?”
Terri stared at him numbly. Suddenly sober as a judge, she shook her head.
“Get the fuck out of here arsehole,” the waiter growled shoving him up the road, kicking him up the arse for good measure as he scurried away. He stooped to pick up Terri's lipstick, now rolling perilously in the gutter as a car approached.
“Thanks,” she said quietly as he handed it to her.
The waiter smiled as the taxi pulled up to the kerb. “Cab for one, Miss?”
Terri spluttered a nervous laugh as he opened the back passenger door for her. “Thanks for.... well, you know.”
“My pleasure,” the waiter said as she climbed into the backseat. Closing the door behind her, he leant through the open driver's side window, pressed George's ten pound tip into the cabby’s hand and said, “Make sure she gets inside safely before you pull away please. Goodnight, Miss Davies.”
Penny Cordwell sat at the back of the night bus staring at the precious photo in its simple woode
n frame.
Over five years she'd been searching. Spent every spare minute at the library, the records office, or trawling websites, only to be forced into waiting. Not giving up - she would never do that - but she'd reached the end of the road. Brick walls blocked every turn. Then a fateful encounter in a coffee shop changed everything.
Penny believed in fate. Everything happened for a reason. She huffed a chuckle. If she had spent the last five years living, instead of learning about a system stacked against her, the encounter might've happened sooner.
She stroked her mother’s smiling face and could see her own likeness reflected in the glass. It was the likeness that had compelled a startled stranger to stop staring at her and join her at the coffee shop table. It wasn't just the colour and cut of their hair they shared, Penny had her mother's high cheekbones and elfin features. She was the image of her.
And she was also too late.
A broken heart was what did it, the woman had said. She never got over her babies being taken. All she'd done was asked the state for a little help when their father died. They helped all right. They stole her children and gave them away. She’d never stopped looking for them, and neither would Penny.
Somewhere out there she had an older brother and sister. Penny herself was just a babe in arms in the photo. Her birth mother’s friend had said it was taken shortly before they were stolen. Shortly before their father had died. She traced their little smiley faces with her finger, and wondered what sort of life they'd had. Tears pricked at her eyes as she remembered all those lonely years spent an only child.
Her life hadn't been bad. Nor cruel, or unkind. Just lonely and confusing at times.
Penny fingered the bracelet on her wrist, and smiled at the entwined hearts charm. She'd been blessed with great parents. They gave her the bracelet the day she started secondary school, the day they sat her down and told her she was adopted. A reminder their hearts were always with her.
They'd been open and honest, well, for the most part anyway. They hadn't told her that her name wasn’t really Penny. But they had encouraged her to ask questions and speak to them about her feelings, even suggested an adoption counsellor. At first she didn't want to ask questions, she didn't care. Why would she care about a stranger who dumped her? But as time went on, when she wanted to ask she found she couldn't, her curiosity made her feel guilty and disloyal. When it also caused her grades to slip, she confided her turmoil in her teacher.
Even now, that simple act of betrayal - turning to an outsider instead of the very people who'd chosen her to love - twisted her gut like it was yesterday.
Her teacher had understood her angst. Helped her to realise life wasn't always easy, especially for parents. She said lots of children were brought up away from their birth families for all sorts of reasons, it didn't mean they weren't wanted or loved. She spoke with such compassion and empathy that Penny had asked her whether she was adopted herself. She said she wasn't, but Penny wasn't convinced. Her teacher had way too much knowledge and emotional insight on the subject, even gave her the details of the Adoption Contact Register so she could search for them when she turned eighteen.
Penny had never been a patient girl. She started to search secretly the very next day.
She was sure her adoptive parents would’ve helped her if only she’d had the courage to ask, but she was afraid of appearing ungrateful. The last thing she wanted to do was hurt them. She just wanted to feel complete.
She wondered if her brother and sister were looking for her. In their early twenties they were old enough to be on the Adoption Contact Register already. Penny was still three months away from her eighteenth birthday. Three months was a lifetime. She'd been too late once, she couldn't risk being too late again.
The old lady in the seat opposite her was staring. Penny swiped at her eyes with her sweatshirt sleeve. Resisting the urge to shout ‘I'm not alone anymore,’ she smiled reassuringly at the woman as the bus pulled into a stop.
Penny avoided making eye contact as a drunken man with spaghetti clinging to his clothes lumbered up the bus towards her. She gazed out of the window to the posh Italian restaurant on the other side of the street, smiling broadly as her imagination conjured images of her laughing and joking and celebrating there with her brother and sister. And then gawped, slack jawed at the woman climbing into the taxi.
As the bus began to pull away Penny knelt on the backseat and pressed her palm against the window, watching the taxi shrink further into the distance. It was a fleeting glimpse but she knew it was her. To Penny it was an omen, a sign. Fate. Her dad would call it hippy shit. It didn't matter diddly squat what you called it, but seeing Miss Davies again, now, when she had a photograph of her long lost family in her hand was all the impetus Penny needed to stop waiting and start doing. Everything happened for a reason.
Chapter 4
Wednesday 13th July
Rosslare Ferry Port, Republic of Ireland.
It was pre sunrise when the minibus van with the blacked out windows disembarked from the ferry. The crossing had been unusually choppy for the time of year. The man at the wheel was thankful only one of the girls had been sick on-board. Today, he alone, was in charge of the precious cargo.
He glanced over his shoulder at the seven frightened girls huddling under blankets in the back. “We'll be driving through customs shortly,” he said. “If everyone does as they've been told everything will be just fine. But if someone freaks out and draws attention... well, you all know the repercussions.”
As he slowly made his way towards the customs checkpoint, two high visibility jackets appeared next to the booth. One male, one female. His heart rose into his mouth when they directed the white transit van in the queue ahead of him into a search bay. He wished Niamh was here, they were far less likely to get pulled with a woman in the front seat.
A couple of the girls were frightened and jittery. He didn't fancy their chances of making it safely to their destination if they were stopped. He said a silent prayer and discreetly crossed himself. If the operation went tits up, he'd never see Niamh again.
City Secondary School, Winchester.
When the end of lesson bell rang, Terri Davies stepped towards the doorway. She wanted to catch Sasha on her way out to break. She didn't feel particularly bubbly herself this morning and her wrist had a hand shaped bruise blooming, but her star pupil was positively gloomy.
Originally she'd planned to have a quiet word with her before class started, but that went out the window when she had to drag Craig Markham off of someone smaller and weaker again. It was about time the Head grew a pair and expelled the little shit once and for all.
Sasha hung back while the class emptied. “How are things at home?” Terri asked. “Is your brother okay?”
Sasha shrugged and cast her eyes down to her feet.
“You know you can talk to me Sasha,” Terri said softly. “I'm here to listen. I'll help if I can.”
Sasha shuffled on the spot. “I don't think it’s good news, Miss. My mum didn't come home last night.”
Terri tilted her head. “What did your Aunt Janet say? Didn't she have any news?”
Sasha fiddled with the sleeve of her jumper. “They don't talk anymore,” she mumbled. “They had a big row.”
Terri sighed and crossed her arms. “You were home alone all night.”
“Please don't say anything, Miss,” she pleaded with teary, desperate eyes. “I don't want to get her in trouble. It's never happened before. I thought they'd be home soon. I thought they'd be there this morning when I woke up but they weren't.”
“It's all right,” Terri said gently. “When did you last see or hear from your mum, Sasha?”
“On the bus yesterday morning,” she said quietly. “When I got off she stayed on for the hospital.”
Terri frowned. She'd been gone for over twenty four hours. “And she hasn't phoned you since then?”
Sasha sniffed and shook her head. “She's been home though, so
me of Billy's stuff has gone,” she spluttered. And then quietly added, “Miss, you don't think she's taken him and left me behind do you?”
Terri swallowed the lump in her throat. “No,” she said confidently. “Your mum would never do that. How about I make some calls to the hospital and see if I can find out what's going on?”
Sasha's eyes lit up. “Would you do that Miss?”
Terri smiled and pushed Sasha's hair behind her ear. “Come back and see me at lunchtime, she'll probably have called you by then anyway. I take it you do have lunch money?”
She screwed up her face and shrugged. “My mum keeps a tin in the cupboard, but I didn't take any because I think it's for the rent.”
The child was already without her mother, Terri couldn't see her go without food in her belly as well. She grimaced as she pulled her purse from her bag, god knows how many rules she was about to break. “Don't tell anyone,” she whispered pressing three pound coins into Sasha's hand. “Go on before you miss your break.”
“Thanks Miss Davies,” Sasha said. “See you at lunchtime.”
Terri closed the classroom door behind her and slumped down in her seat, unsure what to do for the best. She knew what she was meant to do in these situations - report it immediately, the one size fits all solution. But one size didn't fit, and it wouldn't be for the best. She knew this girl's mother. This was totally out of character. She pulled out her phone and scrolled through her contacts, her finger hovering over her sister's name. India had experience of this kind of stuff, she'd know what to do without alerting the authorities. But then she was the authorities.
Terri blew a breath up her face and stared at the phone. She said she'd phone the hospital. She said she'd wait till lunchtime. She was a woman of her word and had no intention of breaking her student's trust, even if it meant breaking more school rules. The rules were there to protect Terri. Terri was there to protect the kids. She dialled the number for directory enquiries and asked to be put through to the Royal South Hants Hospital.
