by Bob Summer
She looked at me, huge eyes, tearful yet sparking with defiant anger. ‘Sure.’ She stood and handed the baby to me and walked away through a door into another room. Naturally, Stacey yelled.
‘Shh, shh.’ I patted and jigged her.
Gemma came over and shouted up. ‘Oi, baby Frannie. What’s the matter with you now?’ Baby Frannie stopped crying.
‘She’s called Stacey,’ I said.
‘Well we didn’t know that so we called her baby Frannie. Fran was her mummy’s name,’ Gemma said full of importance. ‘She cries a lot.’
Great.
Joe spoke to the woman who had opened the door. I didn’t recognise her but by the way Joe leaned in close, pointing his finger like he might be uttering instructions, I’d throw a good guess she worked with him, and not Jenkins.
‘Who’s that lady?’ I asked Gemma.
‘Matron. She came this morning to look after us.’
When Joe walked towards me he looked more than serious, he looked scared. And he never got scared. My belly flipped. If Joe was scared then we all had good reason to be bricking it.
My voice sounded different as if it belonged to some soppy sap. ‘Is everything going to be okay?’
‘I hope so. Just stay here. I’ll come back for you.’ He looked at Stuart. ‘Look after her for me.’
Stuart nodded and held my hand. ‘Yes, Sir.’ I’d normally have laughed but seeing Joe like that turned me too numb-bummed-terrified to do anything much at all.
Matron looked around the room. ‘Where’s Chelsea gone?’
There was only one person Chelsea could be. ‘She went in there,’ I said, nodding towards the door.
‘The bathroom,’ said Gemma.
Stacey wriggled but I didn’t want to let go of Stuart’s hand. I tried to jiggle her back up onto my hip with the one arm.
‘Here,’ said Stuart. ‘I’ll take her.’ He let go of me and plucked Stacey away. She snuggled into his shoulder like she’d known him forever.
Matron frowned. ‘I have to go with Joe. I need you to keep your eye on Chelsea, she’s been through a rough time.’ Matron and Joe left without another word or looking back.
‘What the hell have we done?’ I said. ‘We should have stayed away.’ I should have listened to those instincts. That split, fraction of a second in the hedge, I should have said “no” – insisted that I’d changed my mind and convinced Stuart it was a dumb idea. ‘We should have stayed out the way,’ I said, ‘All we’ve done is given them two more kids to rescue.’
Stuart wrapped his free arm around me. ‘Bloody big bloke Joe, isn’t he?’
‘He’s scared.’ My hands were shaking. ‘I’ve never seen him scared before.’
‘He looked okay to me.’
‘If ever a black man goes that pale, that’s the time to start panicking.’ I tried to lean into his cuddle, sharing the space with Stacey.
‘At least he hasn’t locked the bloody door. I was getting sick of being locked in.’ He squeezed me tight and put his mouth in my hair. ‘Bloody, bloody.’
‘Not now, Stuart.’
‘Okay.’
Stuart had been right about Gemma. She didn’t shut up. She didn’t just prattle to us and Stacey but to Mr Table and Mrs Bed and Mr and Mrs Cup. I desperately wanted to wash my hands and face, maybe even grab a shower. ‘Does Chelsea spend a lot of time in the bathroom?’
‘Yes she does.’ Gemma spoke so posh it was as if she’d been trained by royalty. She might have been an interrogator for the BBC in a previous life. On and on. ‘Why hasn’t anybody come to take her home? Where’s her mummy and daddy? Has she got a big brother like me? Why is your hair a funny colour? Do you always dress like that?’
‘Chelsea will come with us,’ I said.
Chelsea’s uncle must have sold her. Maybe I’d seen him from time to time walking the streets of Basley. Pretending to be normal.
Gemma wandered away and I watched Stuart sit Stacey on the rug and feed her a pot of something he’d found in a hamper. ‘You read Chelsea’s file, right? Do you know her uncle?’ I asked. ‘He’s supposed to be looking after her since her parents died.’
‘No. She lives further west than me. Near the river.’
‘I wonder how much he got for her. Can you remember?’
‘I didn’t read it very closely.’ He shrugged. ‘Maybe he believed in the whole ponies and go-kart stuff.’ He stopped and looked at the bathroom door before back to me. ‘Do you think they’ve started already? And, you know, given them something?’
‘They all look okay.’
Gemma made her way back to us and kept up her chattering. ‘Mr Crawlsfeld comes to see Chelsea sometimes and they go in there for some special time.’ She looked at me and spoke very seriously. ‘And there’s a bath. She likes to lie in the bath for ages and ages.’
Stuart swiped at his lip and leaned forward. ‘Gemma. Did Mr Crawlsfeld do anything special with you?’
She shook her head and screwed her mouth up. ‘No. He said when I got to be a little bit older he’d take me too. But I have to wait my turn.’
‘Did he give you any funny sweets or drink that you’ve never tasted before?’
Gemma sighed and flopped her arms around. ‘No. I just told you. He only likes Chelsea. I’m too little.’ She looked at the floor and went the stillest and quietest I’d ever seen her.
‘What, Gem?’ said Stuart. ‘What? You seem sad.’
‘I didn’t want special time anyway. Chelsea always cries all the time.’ Gemma’s eyes were big and heavy when she looked up at Stuart. ‘I don’t have to go anywhere with him when I’m bigger, do I?’
‘No. Definitely not.’ Stuart gave her a tight hug before standing to pace the floor. If I thought I’d seen angry Stuart before, it wasn’t a patch on this one. I followed and put my hand on his arm. He shrugged me off. ‘She’s twelve!’
Gemma stared at him, her fingers fiddling with the bow at her waist.
‘You’re frightening Gemma,’ I said.
‘Twelve!’ He looked at the ceiling and took some deep breaths before turning on me. His eyes went such a pale grey I stepped back. Never mind Gemma, he was putting the jeeblies up me.
I held my hands up. ‘She’ll be okay now. Joe will make sure of it.’
He strutted about looking so furious I feared his head might explode. ‘If they’ve already started …’
Gemma crept over and held his hand. ‘Are you okay, Stuey?’
He picked her up and squeezed her so tight she screwed her face up. ‘Yep,’ he said. ‘We’re all going to be okay. Don’t you worry.’ He put her down and crouched to speak to her. ‘Why don’t you go and play with Stacey for me. Make her giggle.’
‘Okay.’ Gemma trotted back to where Stacey lay playing on the rug.
When Stuart looked out of the window I went up behind him, wrapped my arms around his waist and leaned into his back. He felt warm and solid and smelt of grown-up man and soap.
‘It can’t keep happening, Atty.’
‘I know.’
He turned and gave me a squeeze. ‘Things will be very different when I get in office. There’ll be no Early Release Programme for a start. People like Crawlsfeld will be locked up for good.’
‘I know.’
We stood there just holding each other. I closed my eyes to pretend we were somewhere else, safe. ‘I’m sorry about before. I didn’t mean to get so shitty.’
‘Pah. Forget about it.’ He rubbed his hand up my back and tickled my arm with his fingers, sending a tingle deep into my stomach. ‘I’m going to make sure places like this are shut down and the buildings used to benefit the community,’ he said.
‘Good idea.’
His body relaxed and melded into mine. Then he shifted position and a gap opened between us. ‘I wonder what’s going on outside. What do you suppose Joe is up to?’
I pulled him in close again. ‘He knows what he’s doing. If anybody can put a stop to all this mess, it’s him.’
/>
Stuart bent to snuggle my neck. ‘You will still want me when this is over, won’t you? When I can give you my full attention?’
Oh God, would I ever. I leaned my head against him. A few days ago, the idea of having an easty boyfriend would have been so ridiculous I’d have laughed myself stupid. But things had changed. Everything had changed. When we got out, if we got out, maybe we could be together. ‘Lots of guys have girlfriends from over east.’ I said.
‘Like Gavin.’
‘Yeah, like Gavin.’ I said. Not the best idea mentioning him. ‘He’s not the only one though, lots do but I don’t know of any that last. East – West, different worlds.’
‘We’ll be the exception.’
I breathed his scent and savoured the moment. If we got separated I wanted to be able to remember every touch, smell and sensation. And I tried, really tried, to believe that we might be different. ‘What about your mum? She’s going to hate me after all this.’
‘Nah. She’ll understand. She’ll soon see how you and I are made for each other. How we both want the same things. We’re not so different.’
‘Don’t you reckon?’
‘Of course not. We’re just fighting from a different angle, that’s all. But we’re on the same side, for definite.’ He kissed my forehead. I lifted my face and his fingers brushed my cheek, crept around the back of my neck, lifted my hair and sent mucky sensations to my toes. He looked at my lips and it felt like the sun crept under my skin, warming me up from the inside out. Then the fireworks went off. ‘Bloody hell.’ He leapt away from me. ‘What was that?’
‘Probably nothing.’
‘You think?’ Stuart snapped. He picked Stacey up off the mat. ‘It’s okay.’ He grasped Gemma’s hand. ‘There’s no need to panic.’
He looked pretty panic-struck to me. What with all that fast breathing and glancing about. ‘I know.’ I said. ‘And I’m not.’
‘Let’s get out of here.’
‘No! We have to wait for Joe.’ I’d already caused him enough grief. ‘And we’re supposed to be keeping an eye on Chelsea.’
Stuart handed me Stacey and knocked on the bathroom door. ‘Hey, Chelsea. Are you all right in there? We need to leave. Now.’
‘Stuart. I really think we should wait for Joe to get back.’
He knocked harder. ‘Chelsea.’
When Chelsea opened the door Gemma reacted first. ‘Don’t cry. We’re going home. Stuart’s here.’
Chelsea sniffed and shook her head. ‘I’ve got soap in my eyes.’
Her eyes were red and swollen. She looked at me and I felt her sadness deep in my throat. I swallowed. ‘It’s okay,’ I said. ‘Everything will…’
‘My parents are dead. And I’ll tell you why my uncle signed me over. Because I asked him to. I thought I was going to a place where there’d be loads of other kids, and parties, and it was all going to be a laugh and stuff.’
I looked to Stuart. We should never have talked about her like that, Crawlsfeld and his special times and, oh God, her being sold. ‘I’m sorry,’ I said.
She tried to smile at Gemma. ‘Silly me, eh?’
‘Listen, Chelsea,’ I said. ‘Joe can fix anything, honest. He’ll talk to your uncle and sort all this mess out.’
She snorted. ‘I can’t go back there.’
‘Of course you can. Once your uncle finds out …’
‘He can’t find out. Nobody can. They’ll never let me forget it.’
The ‘they’ must be the girls in the park. I looked to Stuart for help.
He stood to one side, watching. ‘Crawlsfeld will be punished, Chelsea,’ he said. ‘I promise.’ He looked so genuine I believed him myself. He cleared his throat and stepped towards her. ‘Are you okay to make a run for it? It’s just that we really should be getting out of here.’
‘Sure.’ Her voice cracked and she bent over to fiddle with her shoe. She put her hand up to her face, let her hair fall forward, and did everything she could to hide her misery. But it filled the room, stunning even Gemma into silence.
Stuart broke the moment first. ‘Listen, Chelsea. I’m so sorry. For everything. I can’t begin to understand what you must have gone through.’
I willed him to stop the sympathetic floundering. Everybody couldn’t help but cry when they were given sympathy. Chelsea stood up and looked out the window while Stuart gazed around the floor with his hands in his pockets. She caught my eye. I wanted to tell her that I got it, and I’d do all I could to put it right, I knew people, Joe, M Gee, and together we’d sort it. I wanted to be firm and strong and let her know we were all on her side and to hell with her uncle - she had us. But I turned away and said nothing. Crap.
Matron burst in and popped the discomfort bubble. She headed straight for Stacey and scooped her up. ‘Come quick. We need to leave - now.’ Stuart snatched Gemma’s hand and reached for mine but I grasped Chelsea’s. She, more than anybody, needed somebody to show they cared.
‘Come on,’ I said. ‘Let’s get out of here.’ She nodded and sucked on her lips to stop more tears. ‘You will be okay,’ I said. ‘I promise.’
Matron led the way along the corridor to the stairs. ‘Joe is at the bottom,’ she said. For an old fat woman she moved pretty fast.
I wish she’d warned us. The shock of finding Joe sitting propped against the wall knocked the air out of me. I dropped to my knees. ‘Jesus, Joe. What happened?’ His hand gripped his side and his face twisted in pain.
Matron took Gemma’s hand and told Stuart to help me. ‘We need to get him out to the truck.’
I saw and felt my hands grabbing Joe’s arm but it was like I’d been drinking. My arms moved independently. I had no control over what they were doing or what they’d do next.
Chelsea stood trembling and crying. ‘Oh please no. Oh please no.’
‘Shut up,’ I said. ‘If you’re not going to help just go with Matron.’ My new caring touchy feely side needed to be nurtured to maturity at a less stressful time.
Stuart knelt the other side of Joe and we met each other’s eyes. ‘Don’t worry,’ he said. ‘We can do this. We’re going to get out of here and we’re going to be together.’
Right then, with Joe’s blood on my hands and people running around outside the door wanting to kill us, I decided we’d, not only get out, but we would get that posh hotel and we would, indeed, be the exception. I almost snarled at him. ‘We bloody well will and all.’
Between us we managed to get Joe to his feet. I never knew the human body could lose so much blood and still live. It spread everywhere. My jeans stuck to my knees and my feet skidded on the tiles as I struggled to take Joe’s weight.
‘Sorry about this,’ he whispered.
‘Lean this way,’ said Stuart then looked at me. ‘You okay?’
By Christ he weighed the same as a small mountain. ‘Yep. Let’s go.’
Matron raced ahead across the gravel towards a truck. But we couldn’t keep up. There were more mini explosions from the other side of the grounds. When I heard gunshots I put my head down and put all my strength into getting the hell out of there. Joe’s feet lost their way and we dragged him through the gravel, his knees and toes bouncing behind us.
Matron left Stacey with Gemma in the back of the truck and climbed in the cab. She revved the engine and it screamed as she slammed the truck into reverse and came straight towards us. She stopped, thank God, and got out to help us heave Joe into the back.
Gemma sobbed and called out for Stuart. Stacey screamed such a high piercing yell of terror it went right through my brain and out the other side. ‘Can’t you do something with that screeching kid?’ I yelled.
I would not be taking her home with me, best friend’s baby or not.
‘It’s okay, Gem, stay there,’ said Stuart. He touched my shoulder. ‘I’ll be right back.’
‘Where the freaking hell are you going?’
‘Chelsea!’ He ran back towards the manor.
The very last ounce of
sympathy I might have mustered vanished. There was nothing wrong with her legs. She should have been right behind us. Stuart was a much, much better person than me. All I wanted to do was run like the gallops.
But then I spotted Crawlsfeld - with a gun, a big gun, and he had his arm around Chelsea’s neck, trying to drag her back inside.
Joe groaned, Gemma and Stacey screamed, and Matron yelled, ‘Get in, we need to go!’
‘One minute!’ I yelled back. ‘Wait, one minute!’ I ran to help Stuart, my every thought stood out clear and vivid, like in loud, red, ballooned letters in my head. Well weird.
Crawlsfeld pointed the gun at Stuart. I shouted to Chelsea, ‘Drop!’ She didn’t take any notice but squirmed and fought like she’d gone wild. Crawlsfeld glanced at me. Stuart grabbed his chance and dived to rugby tackle his legs. When the gun fired my ears jangled and everything else went silent. The shot hit the gravel and sent stones flying into my legs. I danced way too late to avoid them and shit they hurt, like getting pebble-dashed with nails.
When I looked again, Stuart held the gun.
Crawlsfeld laughed. ‘Don’t be an idiot.’ He let go of Chelsea’s neck and dragged her back towards the Manor by her arm. She stopped crying and dug her heels in.
I ran harder and dived into the tangle of arms and legs. I tried to help prise Crawlsfeld’s fingers off Chelsea’s elbow and kicked out at his plums, screaming into his face the whole while. ‘Let go of her you miserable, dirty, paedo, stinking …’ In short - I lost it. Stuart lifted the gun by the wrong end, the deadly end, and crashed the fattest part sideways into Crawlsfeld’s head, just above his left ear. As creepy Crawley hit the deck, deader than a sausage, Stuart dropped the gun as if it had exploded. I wiped some splattered drops of blood off my face and, like a total loontune, Chelsea laughed.
I swear the world stopped. The guns, the kids screaming, Chelsea laughing, all of it. The only sound was a thrump, thrump, thrump in my ears. I sat in the gravel leaning back on my hands, grit digging into my palms. I scuttled backwards away from Crawlsfeld and his staring eye. His left hand twitched and a foot jerked, just the once, and I saw his white ankle above a blue nylon sock. The thrump slowed and faded away. And so did the hate in Crawlsfeld’s eye.
