by Ruth Dugdall
She was head of year now, a swift promotion because she was good at her job. She didn’t need Roger, she realised now that she never had.
When she returned home she would give everything she had to the life she had chosen, for her and for Noah. It would be a better life for both of them.
In another city, Roger Palmer watched the end of his fishing rod, circumnavigating the drop of his line into ever decreasing circles of river water, hypnotising him so his thoughts ran on, unchecked, the fishing rod frozen in his hands, his eyes glazed.
His anger with Jess had become a dull ache, and now he was regretting not going to London. Not because he wanted to strike, he was too old for that sort of thing, damn it, and every fool knows teachers are underpaid, shouting outside parliament won’t change that. No, he was wondering if he’d done the right thing because his failure to turn up for the coach that morning was a clear message to Jess that he was accepting their relationship was over, and he just wasn’t ready to do that. He appreciated that it would be hard for her to tell her husband, but she didn’t love him, she loved Roger. And it was natural she was worried about Noah, but he could have reassured her, he would love Noah like his own son. Cheryl liked the boy, they were both only children and would enjoy having a sibling. Sometimes women needed to be told what to do, they were like children in that respect.
What a mistake he’d made, not getting on that coach. Maybe he could have saved their relationship, if only he was there, sitting next to her on the long journey. He could have persuaded her.
This was just a hiccup, but he would fix it. She was thinking about Noah, about the damage it does to a child if parents separate, but what about the damage when parents aren’t in love?
Jess deserved a chance to be happy, they all did. They were just two good people in a less-than-perfect situation, but they could be happy if she would only stop fighting it.
Roger Palmer decided he would fix it, do whatever was needed. Yes, people would get hurt. Jessica’s husband, for one. And her son was sure to be upset for a while. But Roger was a strong believer in the end justifying the means.
His rod quivered and the float disappeared beneath the water. Something had been caught, his hook had lodged into the lip of some innocent creature. Satisfied, he gently began to lift his quivering prey from the river.
54
Now
FACEBOOK: FIND HUMBER BOY B
Noah’s mum: Our son may be dead but he is the glue that binds us. When I look in my husband’s eyes I see Noah, when Dave speaks I hear the voice my son may have had, had he been allowed to age.
Silent Friend: That’s very poetic, Jessica, but it’s still bullshit. Death rips relationships apart. I know, first-hand, the truth of that.
Noah’s mum: I have no idea who you are, but you know nothing about me. You have no right to even be posting offensive messages on this site. This page is a memorial wall, and the dead should be respected.
Silent Friend: You’re right, I can’t know what you feel. But, believe me, Humber Boy B destroyed my life too, and I’m going to make him pay. Soon.
55
Cate
“It’s no longer a matter of if but when,” Cate said as she entered the conference room, the words that had been rebounding in her head the whole drive to the police station now bursting from her. “We have to take Silent Friend’s threats seriously, or we’re failing in our duty to protect Ben.”
All the others were already seated, Steve Flynn at the head of his table looking weary and ready for a holiday, Penny eager as ever with a pen in her hand. Ged was slumped in his seat, his chin rested on his palm, elbow on the desk. He looked like he didn’t want to be there. Cate didn’t meet Olivier’s gaze directly – take him at his own game – but she could feel him watching her and at a glance saw he was poised and groomed as always.
“Silent Friend has given an explicit threat,” she continued, “and whilst we don’t know who Silent Friend is there are plenty of contenders: Noah’s mum. Ben’s brother, who arrived on his doorstep two days ago… ”
“You’re kidding.” Penny dropped her pencil. “We told him, over and over, that family couldn’t know where he is. The little idiot contacted them?”
“He sent a card, just after his release, to his mum.”
Penny cursed.
“I know, he was a fool.” Cate simply felt sad about the fact, but didn’t have the heart to be angry with Ben. He was just a messed up kid who was trying, in a last ditch attempt, to reach for his mum. Stupid, maybe, but very human. “But I went and spoke to the brother, and he agreed to leave. He’s back in Hull now.”
“But he still knows exactly where Ben is,” said Olivier. “The cat, as you British like to say, is out from the bag.”
“Forget cats, this is a total dog’s dinner,” grumbled Ged into his sleeve. “If his cover’s been blown and the press get hold of the fact that we placed him in one of Ipswich’s most swanky new builds, the housing department is going to look like idiots.”
“And you’re worried about that?” Cate hissed. “When Ben’s life is at risk.”
“Whoa.” Olivier was actually holding a hand up to Cate. “That’s inflammatory. All we have is a handful of threatening comments on Facebook, nothing has actually happened.”
“So are you suggesting we just wait?” asked Cate, still not seated, instead leaning forward on the desk so she and Olivier were directly eye to eye. “All the signs are telling us we need to act. Ben needs to be ghosted out of Ipswich, somewhere safe. A new area where he can start again.”
“We can’t afford it.” Steve paused after stating the simple fact, waited whilst everyone turned to face him. He shrugged, “It’s taken a wad of the budget to deal with everything so far, to move him again would mean we’d wasted everything.”
“We can’t afford not to,” said Cate. But as she looked around the table she saw that no-one else was thinking this way, and Steve was the chair of this Risk Management meeting. She was just one voice, and no-one else seemed to be understanding.
They were still determined to follow the ‘wait and see’ policy and she was Cassandra, calling out what she knew to be the truth, no-one willing to listen. Not until it was too late.
Steve called the meeting to a close and Cate was in no mood to hang around, unable in her frustration to engage in small talk. Briskly, she walked from the police station to her car, glad to be in its confined space, in control. Driving soothed her, as did the fact that she was going back to her own building which felt like a place of refuge. Within the probation office she was no longer a lone voice; other people saw the world as she did.
Cate went first to the tea-room and was pleased to find Dot in there, as well as Sue and Janet, both probation officers whom she had known for years. All listened, all agreed that the Risk Management strategy was foolish and negligent. Then they returned to their own heavy caseload and Cate sat, staring at the notice board and wondering what the heck she should do now. Her colleagues’ sympathy, though a powerful balm, didn’t change the fact that moving Ben was not within her control, and when he arrived for his appointment she would have to tell him so. She was still in the tea-room, holding a cup of cold tea, when Dot came back in.
“Still here? I’m sorry Cate, I know this isn’t what you want to hear just now, but Ben’s in the waiting room.”
Cate glanced at the clock and saw it was exactly one o’clock. Ben was always punctual, a legacy of being raised in an institution maybe. Still, she didn’t move and Dot sat next to her, placing a comforting hand on Cate’s leg.
“Maybe the police are right. Maybe no-one’s coming for him and it’s all just hot air.”
“I doubt that.” Cate put her mug down, the tea was untouched. “But at least I can prepare him for the worst.”
Dot gave her a sympathetic smile and the two women returned to their jobs.
Ben looked different today. He sat straighter in the chair and his hair looked like he’d had it trimmed.
He was also wearing a trendy-looking pair of canvas shoes, the same brand Amelia wanted, though she coveted the ice cream design and Ben’s were simply red. Cate noticed but didn’t dwell on these minor changes. “Ben, I’m afraid I have bad news. There have been some threatening messages on Facebook, and the arrival of Adam has really compromised things.”
“But he’s gone,” Ben protested, albeit weakly. Cate also noticed the colour rise on his neck, and wondered if he was hiding something.
“I hope so, Ben. But Adam’s knowledge of where you live is still a weakness in your release plan. Without knowing who Silent Friend is we can’t judge how real the threats are, so I think we have to take them seriously. I’ll be honest with you, there was a Risk Management meeting at the police station this morning and I asked them to move you.”
Ben looked stricken. “Leave Ipswich? But where would I go?”
Cate waved her hand. “It’s not an issue, the rest of the team didn’t see it as necessary so you’re staying put. Which means we have to keep you safe another way.”
“What way?” Ben sounded afraid. “Do you mean back to prison?”
“No, there aren’t grounds for that. But we do need to work out who Silent Friend is. Before he, or she, finds you. I want to try and help you, Ben. We need to unmask Silent Friend. But to do that you have to trust me.”
Trust. She could see from his reaction that Ben trusted no-one.
“So, let’s make a start. What about Adam? He knows where you are, so he’s the first suspect. Would he have any reason to want to harm you?”
“Adam… we were close once. Before Noah died. But he lied in court, he made out he was totally innocent. But… ”
“But what?”
“Well, Adam was just saving himself. Maybe I should have done the same.”
“How could you have?”
“I could have told them about Cheryl.”
Cate recalled that this was the name of the girl who had also been in the vicinity of the bridge that day, Roger Palmer’s daughter. She was framing a question in her head when Ben spoke again.
“I don’t think I know about people.”
“Join the club.” Ben looked surprised and Cate carried on, “The more I do this job, the more unshockable I become. There’s nothing you could tell me, Ben, that would even make me blink. Whatever happened on the bridge that day, I need to know. Because Silent Friend knows you, so it follows that you must know Silent Friend. Let’s work out who it is, and then maybe the police will act. It could be your only option.”
56
Ben
I’m not sure what to do with a girl.
Only from films, or talking with other inmates. People go on dates, they go to museums and see bands together. They go on walks, or for meals, and hold hands and kiss. Stuart never did that for Mum, and neither did my dad as far as I know, so I’m not sure what a good place for a date would be. I know couples go to the cinema but the last time I did that it ended in Noah’s death, there was even a study that said us watching a horror film had something to do with what came later, so I can’t face the prospect of sitting in a dark room with a huge booming screen. I don’t think I’ll ever go to the cinema again.
I can’t afford to take Cheryl for a meal. So I improvise and take her to the best place I know. The aquarium.
Cheryl stares at the carp, her face a perfect mirror of their dumb faces and black-hole mouths. “Sorry, Ben, I’m not really getting the attraction.”
I’m getting it wrong, she isn’t enjoying the date. I need to make her understand, but first I check no-one else is close by. “Maybe because they’re prisoners like I was. And underwater, like Noah.”
I’ve often thought about this, why I feel so relaxed around these fish, and it’s the only conclusion I’ve come to.
Cheryl is still facing the tank so I can’t see her expression. “I saw enough of these when I was dragged out fishing with my dad. I think they’re ugly.”
“They are,” I agree. “Really ugly.”
“Like you.” She turns, pushes herself against me playfully, surprising me so it takes me a moment to understand the game and push her back, against the tank.
She grabs my shoulders, pulling me to her, we stand nose to nose and I can feel her strength, this dancer who has always been athletic when I’ve spent eight years wasting my muscles in a prison cell. I struggle then, uncertain and uncomfortable, but not so hard that I work myself free. I like the feel of her hand on my shoulder, her body close to mine, her face so near I can see the dimple on her chin. Her mouth, opens, her tongue hot and quick in my mouth. How do you kiss? What am I supposed to do with my tongue?
But Cheryl knows. She shows me, moves me, though I’m unsure whether to close my eyes or not. My senses, all alive only to her, see and taste and smell only Cheryl. My brother’s girlfriend.
“Now then, Ben, don’t go scaring the fish.”
I jolt away from her at the sound of Leon’s voice. There he stands, awkward, smiling too, and jangles his keys.
“Ahem, Ben. I’m going to hit the road, or the missus will be on at me for being late for tea. You okay to lock up?”
He’s never let me do this, and I take the keys from him with a mixture of pride and apprehension. It’s a huge responsibility, and Leon is trusting me.
Off he goes, whistling to himself, leaving me holding the keys. Cheryl has a wicked gleam in her eyes.
“Old pervert. He shouldn’t have been watching.”
Cheryl kisses me again, next to the large glass windows, onto a world of water and rocks, all types of fish, swimming amongst floating jetsam, getting along, bumping noses and not minding. Peaceful.
And though she kisses me my eyes are watching the river fish, fish of the Humber, the type that gets hooked on lines or caught in nets, the type that Noah saw as he fell, bubbles from his nose and mouth.
Cheryl lifts my T-shirt from my body and I shiver, warm only where her skin touches mine. She takes the keys from my hand and drops them to the floor, they land with a clatter of metal that reminds me of prison doors closing.
“I’ve never done it in an aquarium,” she says.
“I can’t… what about Leon?”
“He’s gone,” she says, kneeling before me and kissing my chest. My waist. “Don’t worry about him. Think about me.”
And I know that if Leon knew what we were doing, sliding onto the floor under the watchful eyes of the fish, that he’d never have given me the keys. He showed me he trusted me, a sense of responsibility, and I’m abusing it.
But Cheryl has pulled off her knickers, there’s no barrier now, and the possibility of her is close and now and I can’t stop. All these years, no-one to touch, and she’s below me, her skin is all along mine. Legs are laced together, torsos twinned and her lips again, sucking me in, inside. Watched by the fish, I make love to Cheryl. If that is what this is.
I don’t stop until I can no longer move, until my body is shuddering its release and the world, the entire population, could be watching us and still I wouldn’t, couldn’t stop.
She twists to free herself, but I’m drowning in her. What have I done? She is Adam’s girlfriend. More than that, she is the reason Noah died. And now she’s my lover, she’s taken me over.
I need to be free.
She pulls away from me, wadding her dress swiftly between her legs to stop the flow of me from her, and then pulling it back on, smoothing it down.
“What’s wrong, Ben?”
I want to tell her that it’s Adam, who we both betrayed, that it’s the fish with their beady eyes. That it’s Noah, that I should never be happy after what happened, why should anyone want to kiss me? Why, of all people should she and I be together after what we did?
I leave her there. I run from the aquarium in my new red shoes, the keys forgotten on the ground along with my duty to lock the place, and wish that Silent Friend would find me now, get it over with. I don’t deserve it any other way.
57
Cheryl didn’t care that the wet sand was sticking to her thigh, that she was sat in a puddle, that it was cold and her towel was soggy around her shoulders.
Fuck the world, fuck everyone. Why did it always go wrong for her?
She pulled the towel tighter around her neck and told herself it was a cloak. A golden one, fit for an Egyptian queen. No, it was an invisibility cloak that would enable her to do anything and get away with it.
A gust of wind made her shiver, then scowl. She couldn’t control the goosebumps on her arms and legs, or her chattering teeth. Her stomach hurt badly now, there were dragging pains low in her abdomen and she wanted to cry. She wasn’t a queen, or invisible. She was just a teenage girl with no power at all.
Things had been bad since Mum left. Her father was always so busy marking work and looking after her, looking after her too much like she was his project. It had always been just the two of them, suffocating and awkward, so she had been happy when Jessica started coming round. Things had changed for the better. And when her dad said that Jessica was moving in, Cheryl thought this would be the answer to everything that was wrong between her and her dad.
She had experienced a taste of what it would be like to have a normal family. In her imaginings she didn’t say ‘Jess’ but ‘Mum’. When would she be allowed to call her that, would it be just after she moved in, or would they wait for a while?
And Jessica would bring Noah so she would be getting a brother too.
Cheryl couldn’t remember what it felt like to have a mother, but she liked the idea of it. Someone to talk with, someone who had make-up, someone she could ask about boys and why her stomach hurt so badly and if it could be her first period.
