by Ruth Dugdall
“Amelia, why don’t you go play in your room?”
“Hey?” Amelia lifted her head, mouthing the words of whatever song she was listening to, then said, “I’m nearly eleven, Mum. I don’t play.”
“Go listen to your music in your room, then.”
“‘Kay, Mum. See you later.” Amelia disappeared fast, delighted with this unexpected turn after her terrible performance with BECAUSE.
Mother and daughter waited until they heard the sigh of a closing bedroom door, Amelia’s voice signing along softly to music only she could hear.
“You seem very happy, Mum. You look good too.”
Her mother’s mouth remained tightly pursed but her eyes lit with pride. Carefully she said, “I’m back at AA and haven’t had a drink in six days. I want to be sober for the court hearing.”
“You’re going?”
“Going? My darling, I’m a key witness.”
This was a change from what Liz had told her. “But did you know?” Cate’s heart felt leaden. “And you did nothing?”
The question hung between them, so Cate wished she could snatch it from the air and stuff in back into her mouth like a gag. She wasn’t sure she was ready for her mother’s answer.
Her mother looked pained, then defiant. “I tried to block it out with drink, but now that Liz has given me a second chance I’m going to be there for her. Her team say I have to be sober for it to stand in court, and I’ve promised I’ll do it.”
Cate found that she couldn’t speak, words simply failed her. Her mother had known, then. The final chance for their relationship was that she too had been ignorant to the abuse, but that possibility was gone. This was really happening, her father in court, her sister and mother in the witness box. Unless he pleaded guilty there was going to be a trial.
“What do you think Dad will say?”
Her mother’s face resumed a familiar look of contempt. “He’ll deny everything. Like he always did.”
So. A trial. Hours and days of painful testimonials, memories resurrected from childhood, paraded before a jury for their scrutiny and judgement. One word against the other about events from decades ago, and a jury who would have to decide whom they believed.
“I can’t speak in court, Mum. I didn’t know… I wouldn’t be any use.” All she has is vague memories, the feeling that Liz was better loved. None of this amounted to anything in a trial. And it could be misconstrued, distorted by the defence.
“Of course you’ll be of use. Finally, your career giving some tangible benefit to the family. You’re the only one of us who has ever been in a court room.”
“But this would be different. Personal. I think it’s best if I’m not there.”
It crushed her, the feeling that she was turning her back on Liz just when she had a chance to build a relationship with her. She longed, just once, to be making decisions that were easy. And her mum was judging her, she felt it.
“Cate, you will be there because your sister needs you. And so do I. Please don’t let us down.”
81
Ben
Cheryl is checking her phone, tapping a text message to someone, but when she sees I’m awake she closes the screen and places it on the bedside table.
“Was that Adam?”
She hesitates then says, “Yeah. ’Fraid so.”
“He’s here, isn’t he? I know it was him I saw.”
“Don’t be stupid, I told you he’s in Hull. You’re just imagining things.” Then, as if to close the matter, she says, “He has got a job to do, you know.”
I don’t know, not really. She could be lying, he could be outside the flat right now, waiting for a moment to pounce on me. But if it was him who attacked me, why wear a balaclava? Why not let me see his face, after all, I’d asked for it. His girlfriend is lying naked in my bed, making me feel things I never thought possible, that I didn’t think I deserved to feel.
Despite the fact that my face is bruised, even though I know someone is out there looking for me, Cheryl being here is something good. When I start to doubt this I think of her kissing me, and tell myself I’m just being paranoid.
Cate is meeting me at the aquarium today. It’s a review meeting, or so she says, to see how the placement is going, and our official story is that I’m on a Community Punishment order for driving offences. She didn’t go into more detail than that, and Leon won’t ask. He made it clear at the start that he doesn’t want to know what I did. But now I’ve told Issi and I can’t be sure that she hasn’t told him.
The kettle is boiling and Leon is already on page four of The Sun, so I walk past him into our staff room and start to make us tea. When I put his mug in front of him he shakes his head.
“That’s terrible.”
I look into the mug, but the tea looks the right colour to me. “Do you want me to make another?”
But then I realise his eyes are on the double-paged article lying next to him. “What makes a kid do something like that?”
I don’t move, don’t need to. That article is about me, it’s the one that Cate warned me about. When I try to sip my tea my hand shakes, and some spills onto the print, darkening the words. There’s a picture of Noah’s mum, she used to be so pretty but now she looks older and haggard. She’s clutching a framed photo of Noah. Worse, there’s another photo of Noah and me, in his garden, holding his scooter between us. I can see, and it must be obvious to Leon, that the kid on the right is me. The same white-blond hair, the same blue eyes. The same small, runty frame.
I squeeze my eyes shut, step backwards. Did Issi tell him? If Leon knows I’ll have to go and never come back. I simply can’t think or talk about it. Not here, this aquarium. My safe place.
Just then the door slides open, and there stands my probation officer, smart in her navy suit, obviously not here to see the fish.
“Morning. I’m Cate,” she offers Leon her hand, which he takes and pumps vigorously.
“Morning, love. Leon. The boy’s just made tea, and I have to say he’s pretty good at it. You want one?”
She looks at me then, smiles. “Hi, Ben. Milk no sugar, thanks.”
I return to the staff room and I hear Leon say to Cate, “You see this? Terrible thing. But then, you must know all about it?”
Oh shit.
I pour the water into a clean mug even though it’s not re-boiled yet, and leave the teabag in rather than waiting because I want to get back to Leon and Cate quickly. When I do she looks shocked, unsure what to say, so I push the tea at her and say, “Yeah, it’s awful.” She understands. Leon meant she knows all about crime generally, not this one specifically, though she does because I’m standing here.
We exchange a look.
“What I don’t get is why?” Leon is still reading the article. “Explain to me why a ten-year-old boy would do something like this?”
Cate sips her tea, which I know must taste awful, tepid and weak, but to her credit she doesn’t show this. “I think that a child only does something that terrible if their experiences of life have been terrible. If they’ve been badly treated or neglected.”
“Abuse, is it? Seems to be everywhere these days.”
“No!” I say, before I can stop myself. Both of them are staring at me. “That’s no excuse,” I add.
“Not an excuse, but a reason,” Cate says softly. Cate continues to speak, gently peeling back the layers of my protection and leaving my shitty childhood exposed. “His dad wasn’t around, his step-dad didn’t love him. His mum had mental health problems that she medicated with alcohol so she wasn’t as attentive as she should have been. It all adds up, Ben. That’s the thing.”
And I splutter, emotion in my chest rises and bursts from my mouth. And then I’m crying and she’s holding me steady.
“It’s okay, Ben,” she says into my ear so Leon won’t hear. “It’s over now.”
But when we pull apart, Leon is looking from the newspaper article back to me and I see that he knows already.
82
Cate
Cate saw the pained realisation in Leon’s eyes, the horror as he looked back at the newspaper, then the gaze of sheer disappointment as he turned to Ben.
“How could it happen, Ben? You seem like a good kid. Why would someone like you do an evil thing like that?” He lifted the page of the newspaper with his index finger as if it was foul.
Cate could have intervened, but Leon had asked the question she too most wanted answered. And though she wouldn’t have planned for this to happen, she wanted to see the outcome.
The aquarium door slides open and a mother comes in, clutching the hand of a toddler in dungarees who is sucking an orange lolly, the same colour as his hair. The mother who gazes wide eyed at the nearby tanks, her voice singing, “Won’t this be fun, Rolf?” and then comes to an abrupt halt at the desk, seeing Cate, Ben and Leon.
“Are you open?” she asks uncertainly.
Leon looks at the boy with his lolly, who still hasn’t given the fish a second glance, and says, “I’m sorry, love, but we’re closed just now. Staff meeting. But we’ll be open after lunch and I’ll give you free entry. How’s that?”
The woman’s frown softens and she reaches for her sticky child. “Let’s go play in the park, Rolf. We’ll come back later.”
The boy takes her hand, clearly unconcerned that his trip to the aquarium is off the table.
Leon follows them out, waves goodbye and then locks the door.
“Okay. Now we can talk.” He sounds exhausted, but Cate can also see that he really cares about Ben as he leans across the desk and holds Ben’s wrist. This makes Cate nervous as she watches Ben struggle to explain the unexplainable. It means that Leon has more emotion invested, could be more easily disappointed. And Ben needs all the support he can get.
“I was only ten. Noah was my friend, it wasn’t like I set out to do anything… It was a weird day. Everyone was acting off, first Stuart left even though he had promised to take Adam to Scarborough, then Mum said she had a headache and was staying in bed even though she’d told Jess that she’d look after Noah for the day. It was like every adult we saw hated us or didn’t trust us or didn’t even see us.”
The water filters gurgle in the tank nearest them, the lack of natural light suddenly feels oppressive and it seems to Cate that Ben has grown younger. She can see him, at ten. Confused and unwanted with too much time to kill.
Leon looks like he might weep. He is still holding Ben’s wrist, as if this gesture could undo the damage done.
“Please tell me you didn’t do it, Ben,” he pleads. “Tell me it’s not like they describe in the newspaper.”
Ben doesn’t speak. But his mouth quivers, his face seems to melt with pain.
“I think I just wanted to see what would happen.” Ben looks down, shuffles his feet.
“But how was he even there?” Leon asked, frowning. “On the wrong side of the barrier.”
“He climbed over. He wanted to be noticed. We all did.”
“I just wanted to see what would happen. That’s all he had to say for himself?”
Paul leaned back, his arms behind his head. A look on his face that was both weary and cynical. But Cate didn’t feel either, she thought Ben had answered Leon as well as he was able.
“The thing is, Paul, it was so obviously the truth. You know, I could just tell that he was as confused as we were, but that it was an honest answer. It was an impulsive move, without any pre-meditation.”
Paul sighed theatrically. “So, that’s it? A random act where a child ends up dead. That’s bullshit, Cate. It’s just not good enough.”
Anger came quickly to Cate, surprising her with its force. “Not good enough for whom? For Ben’s family? Because they’re in the mix too. His step-dad? Who never loved him, his mum who neglected him. And what about Noah’s mum, leaving him in the care of the neighbourhood alcoholic… ”
“Careful Cate. Victim, remember?”
“Yes, and my heart aches to think of what she’s going through. Any parent knows that we all have days where we aren’t our best selves. Jessica Watts was a good mum, but she was busy. She made a bad judgement call, asking Yvette to babysit. Noah wanted to be noticed, Ben said, that’s why he climbed onto the bridge. He’d probably seen people do likewise and get on the news, the poor kid just wanted attention. There were four kids on the bridge, and all of them took their own history to that moment. It was simply a terrible tragedy.”
She stopped, exhausted by it.
Paul put it far more starkly. “No, Cate. A murder.”
“Yes, it was. But not in the way you would imagine.”
“I think you like him too much.”
“I think someone should, if he’s going to stand a chance out here.”
83
The Day Of
Cheryl ran. As soon as Noah began to climb over the barrier, she turned and ran because she feared what was coming next, even though she willed it too.
It was as if the pain of the fall, the frustration of the day, had all exploded and Noah decided to end it the swiftest way he could, and even if he changed his mind she knew that other forces had been conjured.
The bridge is long, and as long as she is on it, she will feel more to blame for what takes place. So she runs harder, bare feet on concrete, her gymnastic body moving to its limits, the swimsuit riding up, the towel long forgotten.
It takes forever to leave the bridge, the rain is now strong and steady and relentless as she scrambles down the riverbank. But still, she can see the bridge, and this makes her panic.
She runs to where her father is stood by the water’s edge, his mobile in his hand. He sees her and looks relieved but also furious.
“I’ve been worried sick. Why didn’t you take your phone?”
They can both hear it, ringing in her bag just a few yards away.
“Where did you go, Cheryl? You should at least have put some clothes on!”
She was in trouble, she’d been gone too long. She wanted to go home, to leave this place behind.
“I asked you a question, Cheryl. Now answer me. What’s going on?”
She pointed, up to the middle of the bridge.
“The boys, Dad. Up there. I think one of them is going to jump.”
Roger began to collapse his fishing rod, zip up his coat against the rain and pack up his things. “Don’t be silly, Cheryl. Now let’s clear up and get out of this rain. We can talk about this at home, I haven’t finished with you yet.”
“Maybe I’m not happy with you.”
Roger looked up to see his daughter, standing in the rain in just a swimsuit, staring at him with a look that was on the precipice between temper and tears. He was genuinely surprised to see her this way and took a step forward, but she held up her hand, palm towards him.
“No, Dad. Nothing you say can make this better.”
“What?” he asked, perplexed. “What is it you think I’ve done?”
“We had a chance Dad, to be with Jess. But it’s going to be okay. I’ve thought of a way… she could love you again, Dad. She could love both of us. And then you can stop hating me. I think she’ll come back to us now.”
She was shaking now, crying too, and Roger didn’t know what to say or how to comfort her.
“Cheryl, what are you talking about?”
She didn’t answer, but instead jumped into the cold water, no longer thinking about the boys on the bridge but thinking only of the family she might have had. She slapped her bare feet into the gravel, not caring that it stung, and tried to wash away the blood from her thighs.
They both looked up when they heard the scream.
84
Now
FACEBOOK: FIND HUMBER BOY B
Silent Friend: No-one has posted on this page for a while, so I’m thinking I’m the only one who really cares. Or maybe you others just want to leave the dirty work to me? I have him now. See the photo if you don’t believe me. Looks different than in the other pictures, but t
hen you haven’t seen him since he was a boy, have you Jess?
I promise you this is our man. Now what do you suggest I do with him?
85
Cate
“I don’t like doing this,” Ged said, as they stepped out of the lift. “It’s not good practice to enter a tenant’s property without permission.”
“We both know this isn’t a usual case, though,” Cate said irritably before adjusting her tone. “And I’m grateful.”
It was Leon who’d called the probation office, just after nine-thirty that morning, to say Ben hadn’t arrived at work. He’d shut up the aquarium and walked to Ben’s flat, thinking he was ill and might need help, but no-one answered the door when he rang.
If Ben had absconded, it would be an immediate recall to prison for breach of parole licence. The only other option was far worse. Silent Friend had found him.
Ged knocked on the door, “Come on, Ben! Open up.”
Silence. Cate waited, understanding that Ged needed to go through this process, though inside she was screaming at him to use the bloody key.
The key in the lock, he stopped, and said, “What if he’s killed himself? If he’s just hanging there. I don’t want an image like that in my head.”
Cate nudged him out of the way and turned the key herself. The door swung open and she stepped inside.
The flat was sparsely furnished but what there was had been knocked askew, the sofa was at the wrong angle, as if it had been pushed aside during a scuffle. Ben’s few possessions were randomly scattered on the floor. “This isn’t Ben,” said Cate. “Look.” She walked to the kitchen, where order remained, and showed Ged the line of tins, cereal boxes, bread. Obsessively straight. In the bathroom was a similar line of shower gel, shaving foam, shampoo.
But the lounge was wrong.
Ged followed behind her as she went from room to room, cautiously, as if they still might find something unpleasant.
