by Ruth Dugdall
Cheryl wanted Jessica to move in desperately.
But then Dad and Jess had started arguing and she’d wanted to stop them, to tell her dad that he shouldn’t shout and get angry because then they’d be alone again.
Last night it had been really bad, and now her dad was so sad. Jessica had said it was over, because she couldn’t do that to Noah.
Do what? Would it be so bad for him to live with Cheryl and her dad? Why was Noah so special, that he could ruin everyone’s plans?
Why couldn’t Jessica see that Cheryl needed her, she really did? More than her dad, even, Cheryl was desperate to have a mum.
And now it was ruined. Noah had wrecked everything.
58
Now
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59
Cate
Cate started the car and began to drive towards town, still unsure if she was actually able to face her sister. She would drive in the right direction, and see how far it got her.
It had been twenty years, she didn’t even know who her sister was anymore. All memories of Liz felt ancient, all tied up with how Liz had been as a child, obedient, quiet.
Though they were only a year apart in age, Cate had always thought of herself as much more independent, she was the one who got a Saturday job at fifteen while Liz stayed at home in her room. Cate was motivated by freedom, but Liz had seemed content to remain a child.
In her teens, Cate had taken on the role of the sensible one, making breakfast for her and Liz, laying a plate and cup for Mum who might not get up until midday.
With Dad working away, it had often just been the three of them in the house, but when Dad was around, everything was different. Mum would be up early, make-up already on, cheerily chatting as she cooked bacon and eggs. When he left again, as he always did, her mask of cheerful domesticity would slip and she would once more disappear into her bedroom. Cate preferred it when Dad was around, though she found it hard to hold his attention for long, she just seemed to be in the way. She told herself that this was just how it was when you were the oldest. She just had to try harder to be good.
Cate had always watched out for Liz, played nurse to her patient, rescued her from the bad guys, and later at school had comforted Liz when she was bullied. Liz was always being bullied; there was always someone who wanted to crush a bit more of her fragility, or who envied her prettiness. Yet even while Cate comforted Liz, part of her was jealous, knowing that what made her a victim also brought rewards.
Later, it was Liz who was first asked out on a date, the first of many. To Cate’s disbelief she never seemed interested. Cate would answer the telephone to hear a nervous teenage male on the line, “Is Liz there?”
“Liz, it’s for you. Some boy.”
She would appear from her bedroom, whispering, “Tell him I’m out. Please, Cate.”
And at first she would. But then she got fed up with being her sister’s social secretary and would answer, “Yep, she’s here – Liz, its some boy for you,” forcing her sister to take the receiver.
Liz would hold the mouthpiece like it was hot, “Hello? No, I can’t… No, sorry.” Always, the hesitant refusals. Cate thought she just wasn’t interested, but then there was Rob, whom she knew Liz liked. He was in Cate’s year at school, and good-looking with dark lanky hair and hazel eyes. He would dawdle after school, walking beside them but ignoring Cate, and she saw how her sister would play with her hair when she looked at him, how she started to put lip gloss on in the toilets after lessons. These walks after school were torture for Cate, who either trailed behind like a spare part or sped up, leaving Liz and Rob meandering behind. Sometimes she would be home a whole twenty minutes before Liz appeared, looking a little flustered and flushed. But then the phone calls started and, to Cate’s surprise, Liz came to her, “If Rob ever calls, I want you to tell him I’m busy.”
“Busy where?”
“Anywhere! In the bath, doing homework. I don’t care – but I don’t want to speak to him.”
“Lover’s tiff is it?”
Liz’s reply was a look of such anger and resentment that Cate was shocked, “Sorry I asked.”
But the next day, as usual, Rob was with them on the journey from school. For several months the pattern continued, with Liz refusing to speak to him on the telephone or go on a date until finally Rob got bored and moved his attentions to Melissa in the year below Liz. From her bedroom across the hall, Cate heard Liz crying for several nights afterwards. She just didn’t understand it.
When she reached sixteen, Cate no longer wanted to be hampered with her younger sister. Liz never seemed to have her own friends, only wanting Cate for company. “These are my friends, not yours,” Cate would tell her. “Get your own mates.” Cate did such a successful job of distancing herself that she was not shocked when Liz failed to return home on her seventeenth birthday. Her presents remained unopened, a cake untouched as evening turned to night. Finally, late, there was a phone call, which Dad answered. She only heard his side of the conversation but it was enough to tell her that Liz wasn’t coming back. That she would not tell him where she was.
To think that they had grown so far apart that she had no idea that Liz was thinking to leave saddened Cate. Over the following days she had gone into her sister’s room and seen the evidence of long-term planning. A row of hangers in the wardrobe. Empty drawers. Receipts for a young person’s rail card, bought two months ago. A bankbook revealing a withdrawal of £900 a week ago. All that time, Liz had been squirrelling away money.
Cate never saw her sister again.
Now, out of the blue, Liz wanted to meet. And Cate knew that, however angry she was for the years of anxiety when there was no news, she was desperate to find out why she left.
She parked at the back, the area for residents in the Great White Horse.
In just a few minutes she would know.
Just as she walked into the pub, her mobile rang, a call from Penny. Cate lifted it to her ear, thoughts immediately tumbling to Ben and what might have happened.
“Penny?”
“Bad news, Cate. I need you to come to the police station.”
The receptionist at the Great White Horse waited politely for Cate’s attention. Her sister was somewhere upstairs, and she was just moments from seeing her again, after twenty years. “Now?”
“Right now, I’m afraid. It’s Ben. Something’s happened.”
60
Ben
I’m running from the aquarium, not sure where to, when I’m grabbed from behind. The punch, when it impacts, is both unexpected and clean, a direct hit to the kidneys that makes me shudder and turn, only to feel the weight of a fist pummel deep into my gut.
My attacker is male and large, at least larger than me, as I try to push him away only to encounter solid thick girth and no movement back, an awkward dance of wills that I have no way to choreograph. Then comes a crack, like wood splitting, like a branch snapping and then I am like the carp, floating, unthinking, unfeeling in the black, immense, cold sea and it is bliss.
Hazy words reach me from a distance.
“Oh shit, we need to call an ambulance.”
A girl’s voice. Cheryl? I open my eyes, blink, close them again as a sharp pain like a needle runs through my senses. It’s not Cheryl but a stranger, a woman I don’t know who is with a man with a white beard. I think of Father Christmas, then my head throbs and I think only of pain. They are both bending over me.
“Give me the phone, I’ll call 999.”
I struggle to sit, lay back again, try to speak though my mouth is swollen and full of a sweet, thick taste that I realise is blood.
“No, please. I’m okay.”
“Like hell you are.” The man’s phone lights up as he touches the screen. “Your nose looks broken. Ambulance please,” he says into the phone, then after expl
aining that my condition is not life-threatening there is a pause, “Seriously? That long?”
“What did they say?” The woman asks the man as he hangs up the phone, less anxious now she has established I’m not going to die. I can see her checking her watch, the moon catches the sparkles along the gold band.
Father Christmas runs a hand through his beard and his fingers come away shiny with wax. “No ambulances are available, they’re out on heart attacks or whatever. They suggest we drive him to A&E.”
They both look down at me, and I see that she is wearing a velvet dress and high heels. He is in a suit with a bow tie. I’m ruining their plans.
“I’m okay, honestly. I just need to get home.”
“Where’s that, kid?” The man asks.
Cheryl will be back at the flat, there’s only one other place I can think of. I reach behind, wincing as pain stabs my ribs, and pull Leon’s hand-drawn map out of the back pocket of my jeans.
“Please. Just take me here. It’s my dad’s house, and he can drive me to the hospital.”
They look at each other, back at me on the ground, and the woman says, “If we take him to hospital, there’s no way we’ll make the party.”
Decided, the man lifts me, the woman touching my arm though not doing any good that I can tell, and soon we are at their car, where I’m eased into the low front seat. It’s a sports car, so the woman has to wait, but the drive to Leon’s house only takes a few minutes and soon the man is being relieved of his duty as I hobble up the pathway to Leon’s door. The kind stranger heads back to collect his wife and then on to their party.
The door opens and Issi stands there, a hand quickly over her mouth as she stares at my bloody face. “Oh, Lord,” she says, and though I have no idea what I look like, Issi’s reaction tells me it’s bad. Leon comes to the door and says, “Let the boy in, woman,” and then Issi snaps to energetic alert, bustling me into their front room and fussing over me as I explain I was jumped on by a stranger. And that’s when I realise my mistake. I didn’t lock the aquarium, I left the keys on the ground, I left Cheryl there too. And now this.
My nose is throbbing, my whole face feels as big as a bowling ball. I daren’t move my head, my nose hurts so much.
“Oh, Ben, this is awful. Why would someone want to hurt you?” Issi says, then Leon adds, “Did they take anything?” I shake my head. “Not even your wallet?” as though they were one voice.
“Who cares that they didn’t take his wallet, look at the poor boy! His nose is broken. I’m calling an ambulance, and the police,” said Issi, determined with her lips pursed in disgust at my attacker. “He’s not going to get away with this.”
“No.” I give Leon a pleading look, “Please, don’t.”
Leon looks surprised, maybe suspicious, and I’m afraid he’ll ask me if I locked the aquarium. “So, this just happened after you left work? Did your girlfriend see what happened?”
I shake my head vigorously, then stop because the pain has returned. “She wasn’t there. We’d just said goodbye, outside the aquarium. I was walking back to my flat.”
He seems to be thinking about this and I wonder too. Was it just coincidence that I was attacked just after I’d left her?
“Issi’s right, whoever did this shouldn’t get away with it.” Then he touches my arm, speaks more intimately, “Unless there’s something you’re not telling us, son?”
My face, already swollen and tender, now burns. Shame, but not from tonight, old shame. They must smell it on me, they must see through my disguise. If the police arrive, how long will it be before they discover that I’m Humber Boy B and then I’ll lose even this. Especially this. I should tell Leon I didn’t lock the aquarium, but I can’t. I feel I’ve already disappointed him enough.
Leon sits heavily in his armchair, “Did you provoke him in some way, son?”
Issi shrieks, “There’s no excuse for violence, Leon. Are you saying Ben deserved to get beaten up? Look at his poor face.” Leon reaches to pat her hand, but she’s too busy moving around me, he can’t calm her.
“I know, love. But young people have short fuses. I’m just trying to find out why our Ben here doesn’t want the police involved. Is it because you’ve been in trouble yourself, lad? What with the Community Punishment and everything?”
It feels like thin ice, so close to the truth, but the only way to go.
“Yes,” I say, the word cracking in my mouth. “The police might think I started it. I don’t want to get in trouble.”
I can see this argument is working for Leon, who’s a man of the world and reads the The Sun everyday. He knows how things work with the police and kids like me. But Issi is still a bustle of energy, dabbing me with wet cotton wool and chewing her cheek as she removes each piece, covered in my blood. I know I’ll have to go one step further if I’m to stop her calling the police once she’s finished cleaning me up.
I lean forward, though it makes my chest hurt, so Leon can see I’m telling the truth.
“I think I did provoke him, Leon. I didn’t handle it well, so I deserved this. But calling the police will only make it worse.”
It’s my only lifeline. Even if I disappoint Issi, that isn’t as terrifying as coming face to face with a police officer.
“How did you provoke him?” Issi has collected up the cotton wool and thrown it into the bin. She’s holding the phone in her shaking hand as if weighing up the argument I’m giving.
“I… er… I knocked into him. Accidently, but I think I hurt him.”
Issi looks at me like I’m crazy. “Not as much as he hurt you!” She seems half-crazy herself, angry at what she perceives has been done to me. I’ve lost my chance. She presses the green button and for the second time this evening, someone calls 999 on my behalf.
“I need an ambulance. And the police, please. I want to report an assault.”
61
The Day Of
Adam had always fancied Cheryl, albeit from a distance, but then so did all the boys in his year at school. She was pretty, slim, blonde, she moved like a dancer. Even if he wouldn’t know what to do with a girl like that he’d give his right arm to have a try.
He was sure she didn’t even know he existed, but here she was, not just looking at him, but talking to him. Not just talking, but touching too. Was she drunk? She was acting a little off, but then he didn’t really know her. She was being loud, a little crazy, dressed only in a swimsuit, bringing the fish to them, and encouraging Noah to try to sacrifice it to the Devil.
She was bored, that was it. Her dad was fishing and she just needed something to do.
But why press against him, why put her hand over his jeans, just where his penis was, growing with the pressure. “Do you fancy me?” she asked, feeling him with her fingers.
And then, “How much?”
Being on the Humber Bridge, cars roaring past on the raised road, the river down below, it made Adam feel… it simply made him feel. The wind and the sky and the space. And somewhere, out there beyond the river where the sea begins, heading to colder waters, was his dad. Off again on a trawler, to the adventure that he enjoyed, that he must love, because he kept pissing off and leaving Adam and Ben with their mother even though Stuart knew she barely held it together.
And Stuart had promised him, today was their day. They were supposed to be in Scarborough, a special trip. His dad was a liar. All adults were.
But here Adam was, on the bridge, and from here the sea seemed a long way away. And Cheryl wanted him so he was going to grab that chance with both hands even if it felt weird.
The whole day had been bloody weird, the film, the Ouija board, Noah acting all dopey, Cheryl and the fish.
Adam was just going to ride it and see where it took him because, fuck knows, it had to be better than going back home.
Cheryl didn’t stop him when his hand stumbled across her breast, nor when it went lower. She kissed him, wide-mouthed, and as he felt her stomach she moaned. He stopped, thinking
he’d hurt her, but she urged him on, touching him too. No-one had touched him before, he had never felt a girl’s thigh, the way the skin inside the leg was so smooth, the way it roughened towards the top, the hair.
He pressed his fingers through the thin fabric of her swimsuit, just as she grasped his penis. He stopped wondering how this could be, and just did what felt right, his hand and her hand moving fast, faster. Inside she was moist, fleshy. He thought she liked it, he’d seen this in films, it should feel good for her too.
But when he pulled away, he saw that he had hurt her.
His fingers were covered in blood.
62
Now
Murdered Noah’s mum speaks out for the first time in our double-page exclusive:
“All I want to know is why… ”
Jessica Watts clutches a photo of her little boy and fights back tears. Just three weeks ago she heard the devastating news that her son’s killer is free and living somewhere in the country under a new identity that cost British taxpayers millions of pounds.
“I’ve been living a nightmare for eight years,” said Jessica, whose ten-year-old son, Noah, was thrown from the Humber Bridge to his death. A group of children were on the bridge, and two brothers received convictions. Humber Boy B, who was just ten when he went on his murderous rampage, served an eight-year sentence for Noah’s murder.
“Eight years is nothing,” said husband Dave, sitting close to his wife. “But what we really want isn’t a longer sentence. We need answers. We just want to know why our son had to die.”
Full article on page 8.
Join The Sun’s campaign to find Humber Boy B, to help his parents ask the one question that has not been answered. Sign our online petition NOW!
63
Cate
This time when she arrived at the police station Cate was ushered, not upstairs to the large conference room, but down the corridors near the cells, to one of the windowless interview rooms on the ground floor.
