by Ruth Dugdall
‘Then come to Westerfield Hospital if you don’t believe me, this afternoon at two. That’s where the conference is being held, on Minsmere Unit. Then you can see for yourself.’
She looked at her watch, swore, and started to walk away. ‘I’ll have to knock off early. Andy could give me a lift. I’d like him to hear it; he always blamed me for falling for Douglas, said I’d been an idiot not to see what a bastard he was. I’d like to be proved right for a change.’ Then she turned and added, ‘You better be telling the truth, Sam. I’m warning you.’
CHAPTER 37
1 February
From Westerfield station it’s a short walk to the hospital, but the rain slows me, running in tears down my face. As I walk I catch my breath, gather my thoughts, telling myself that the people passing don’t know who I am. Still, the closeness of others, the freedom, I can barely handle.
I think of my room on Ana Unit, and how being free would mean giving up that safety. But then I think of Sian waving goodbye, giving me her blessing. Even now, arguing for my freedom.
There is only one place to go. I have to finish this trip into the past.
On the hottest day of the year, Ipswich train station offered cool in the shade, a relief of iron-and-wood benches and steel girders supporting a roof that cloaked the whole platform. I bought a drink from the vending machine and sat on the nearest bench.
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Rob walking towards me with speedy steps, his face already split into a smile. For a stupid second I wanted to run into his arms and tell him what had changed, that I had a gun in my bag, that I thought his mum attacked Jena. But good sense stopped me: he wouldn’t take my side against his mum; blood was thicker than water. I was alone now.
‘Where’s Douglas?’
‘Dad stopped at the shop for some gum; he said he’d catch us up.’ Rob looked smarter than usual: his hair was gelled into neatness, and he had on a short-sleeved shirt; his usual jeans had been replaced with chinos. It made me sick, to see how much this meant to him, knowing it wasn’t going to work out in his favour.
The tannoy crackled to life, announcing our train would be arriving shortly.
‘We can’t go without him, Rob. We’ll have to catch the next train.’
‘Don’t worry, he won’t be late. This is important to him, as much as to you. He’s about to get his life back, and so am I. I won’t be known as the rapist’s son anymore.’
I could feel the slick worry in the palm of his hand, and thought of the pain that was coming his way. Because it was going to be worse, so much worse, than he imagined.
‘Yeah, it’s a special day.’
We found a seat with a table, manoeuvring ourselves around upturned coffee cups and discarded newspapers. I rolled my shoulders, feeling the pull across my chest and in my back.
I planned to confront Sonia in full view of everyone: the press, the police. I wanted a public confession. Sonia needed to believe I was willing to fire the gun, she needed to think her very life depended on telling the truth.
The guard put his whistle to his mouth and held up his hand just as Douglas came into view, sauntering down the platform like the world would wait. He jumped on just as the doors closed with their insistent beeps. The whistle sounded and the train pulled away.
Douglas slid into the seat opposite me, sweat on his forehead. ‘Phew,’ he grinned. ‘That was close.’
We watched Ipswich station fall away as the train rattled past the boarded-up pig factory, travelling alongside the brown-banked River Orwell. Rob’s mobile beeped, and he read the text.
‘Shit,’ he said, turning to me. ‘Why did you invite my mum?’
Douglas raised his eyebrows in a questioning way at me. Both of them waited on my answer.
‘I thought she deserved to come. Jena’s going to say that Douglas didn’t rape her, and Sonia needs to hear that.’
Rob accepted this, but Douglas started tapping the table with his hands, as if agitated. Rob leaned forward and touched his knuckles to his dad’s to still his nervous tic.
‘Don’t worry, Dad. It’s going to be all right for once.’
I could see how Rob’s feelings for Douglas had turned around, now he thought he was innocent. I’d softened towards him too, but only a bit. He was still a shit; Rob had the scar to prove it, but he’d forgotten that. He closed his eyes, arms crossed, perfectly at peace, and I put my hand in his, and leaned my head on his shoulder, for the last time.
We let the sound of the train lull us, watching the scenery roll by like a film about a town in decline. Some of the flats in the suburbs were half-built, abandoned when the money dried up. Double-dip recession, right outside our window.
I was unable to sit still any longer, the adrenalin spiking in my body. ‘Won’t be a mo.’
The toilet was small and the floor was covered in piss, the space so enclosed I couldn’t turn easily. The mirror, as opaque as tinfoil, showed me a blurry picture of myself. As I watched, I saw something shift, as if I was becoming someone else. I didn’t blink; maybe it was that or lack of food, but my face morphed into a monster. Who the fuck was I? How had it come to me carrying a gun? I splashed water on myself, and when I looked again the monster was gone.
I opened the door to leave, but someone pushed me back inside, forcing me backwards and pressing me against the sink. Through the tiny window the world sped past, train wheels cracking on the track, and over me loomed Douglas.
‘Cut the crap. Why did you really ask Sonia?’
He had me locked in, the small space, the rocking beneath my feet. ‘Douglas, Rob will know we’re here.’
‘I told him I was going to the buffet car. So tell me quick. How did you work out it was Sonia? I never told the police the raincoat was a woman’s. How did you find out?’
My breath caught, then released in a gush. ‘I didn’t know. Not until you just told me. But it proves my hunch was right. Doesn’t it?’
He looked at me, and in that moment we both acknowledged something that I hadn’t realised before: he too believed Sonia was guilty. And he had covered for her.
Finally, in a weary voice, he asked, ‘So, what are you going to do, Sam? You’ll have Sonia and Jena together, with half the world watching. What the fuck are you planning?’
I didn’t answer him, couldn’t. Because I didn’t know the answer myself.
CHAPTER 38
We arrived at the hospital at a quarter to two. The patio doors had been flung wide, and on the courtyard were a gaggle of reporters, testing microphones and looking through notes. They didn’t notice me, barely looked up as we arrived.
The few people gathered inside Jena’s bedroom made it look hive-like, and I could see Penny talking to Mum. Dad was slouched on the bed, at the back of the room.
Just in front of the patio doors, on the yellow grass, four chairs had been placed in a line. To the side was a podium, the kind lecturers at college might use, and I guessed this would be where Penny would stand to guide the questioning. Two cameramen were setting up tripods, and I saw their T-shirts had logos: Look East, BBC.
Rob and Douglas hung back, but I needed to find Jena.
Inside the bedroom it was stifling and stank of hairspray and sweat. Mum was bent over, pouring herself a glass of water from a jug. Looking exhausted, she took a seat next to Dad on the bed, arms folded across her Pepto-Bismol-coloured cardigan from Primark. Her dress was fancy but faded, and gaped at the bust.
She took the cardigan off, folded it neatly, and patted Dad’s leg, though he seemed to be lost in thought.
Then Jena was next to me, fizzing with energy, hair frozen into curls that made her look much younger than twenty-nine. She hugged me distractedly, and I sensed that she was alert to everything happening around her. Including the two newcomers in the courtyard.
‘Sam, who is that you’ve brought with you?’
She was straining her eyes to see, but looking directly at Rob and Douglas, who were awkwardly watching the camerame
n. Jena began to walk to them, and I followed, alarmed at what might happen, though I needn’t have worried.
‘You came!’ Jena said, sounding genuinely delighted. ‘Did you bring my usual: chips and mushy peas?’
Douglas managed to offer her a tight smile, now he thought she was about to clear his name, and then reached for Rob, a hand on his shoulder, his knuckles revealing his JENA tattoo.
‘This is my boy.’
Jena blinked at Rob, curling her hand around her neck like a choke chain. Then she took his mottled cheeks in her hands, his face a mix of confusion and shame.
‘You came to my house one Halloween.’
‘I did,’ Rob said. ‘We were daring each other to knock on the mad woman’s house, next door but one to yours, but I was too scared so I knocked on yours instead.’
‘Ah,’ Jena said. ‘That’s Mrs Read. But she’s not mad.’
Flora floated up to us, wearing a tie-dye rainbow caftan and wafting her hand in front of her face like it was a fan.
‘We’re at thirty degrees. I said we should move the conference indoors in case someone gets heatstroke, but apparently we don’t have time to move everything. You may want this, Sam.’
She placed a plastic cup of yellow-coloured squash into my hand.
‘Places please. Just five minutes until we roll,’ shouted the cameraman who worked for the BBC. Penny gave him a thumbs-up and came over to me.
‘Sam, are you okay? Your mum says you’re not well; I didn’t think you were coming.’
‘I’m fine.’ I lowered my rucksack from my shoulder, so it was in close reach. ‘Let’s just get it over with.’
‘Then it’s time you took your seat.’
As I sat down, I saw a couple walking across the courtyard, towards the front line of reporters. Andy and – my god, she had actually come – Sonia.
Andy was dressed in an open-necked shirt and wearing Ray-Bans, confident as ever. His arm was held lightly around Sonia, who was pale and skinny, blinking up at the sky. I saw that the plastic strap had snapped on her orange shoes and she was struggling to walk, or maybe she’d had some drink or something stronger before setting off. Finally giving in, Sonia took off her shoes and walked barefoot towards Jena’s room and towards her fate.
CHAPTER 39
1 February
I’m inside the hospital grounds; I just need to find your flat. The address was on all the letters you sent me, letters I never replied to, but always read.
My body is weak, and it’s hard to think straight. Pearl’s death is heavy on my mind, and so is Mum’s funeral. Death, close around me. Oblivion, which is what I thought I wanted.
I wish I could feel something, just one scrap of emotion, for what is happening to me, but all I know is that this is the one place I need to be; you are the one person to see. I must finish my story, and be done with the past.
I’ll try and be as clear as I can with this, but you’ll have to understand that it just tumbles out from here, like falling dominoes, unstoppable pieces of action. Sometimes, I wish it was me who’d been attacked, so my memory was wiped clean. But then I remember that the whole point was that I didn’t want to be one of life’s victims anymore. I had a loaded gun placed in my rucksack, the handle easily reachable, and I was finally taking control.
‘Okay, everyone,’ announced Penny. ‘We’ll be live in three minutes.’
I checked the Tokarev’s position in my rucksack: near to the top, handle toward me. I sucked in air, my asthmatic chest tight with anxiety at what I was about to do.
‘Right,’ said Penny, loudly enough so everyone stopped talking to look at her. ‘Jena, if you’d like to take the seat in the middle, with your parents either side. Sam?’ She looked over to me, then came closer and said quietly, ‘Are you sure you’re okay?’
I was so tired. My chest felt like a giant hand was grasping it. ‘Get me water. Please.’
She looked around, but there was none to be found. I pointed to a bottle that one of the journalists was holding, and Penny asked her for it. I tried to drink, but my breathing was too laboured as I watched Jena sit down, flanked by Mum and Dad, then me, at the end of the line.
A crowd of reporters and cameras in front of us, all waiting to record every word.
The sun had reached its pinnacle, burning white. I noticed Douglas was speaking with Rob, then they approached Sonia and Andy. It looked a tense meeting; Sonia responded to something Douglas said, but her laughter was too loud and manic, as if she’d taken something to get over the emotional bump of today. I hated her, wanted to get this over with, praying that the gun would work its magic and just the threat of it would be enough to make Sonia talk.
Penny placed her hand on my arm. ‘Sam, I really think you should just sit and watch. You’re wheezing.’
My chest was cramped with asthma, and my head was as light as a helium balloon. I tried to relax, closing my eyes and concentrating on breathing. I knew what I’d come for.
‘I need to do this.’
‘Okay then.’
She moved away, towards the podium from which she would speak to the journalists. The press conference could begin.
The cameras began to roll, zooming in on Penny. ‘Nine weeks ago, on Orwell Estate, Jena Hoolihan was set upon and left for dead. This is still an unsolved crime, and we are appealing for any information that will help us to find Jena’s attacker. She was in a coma for four days, and is still living in hospital accommodation. This is the first time she has talked publicly about what happened.’
Everyone looked at Jena. The weight of silence was crippling.
Jena breathed; she looked out on all the people gathered there, and then she faced the camera and spoke. ‘My name is Jena Hoolihan.’ So calmly, with such conviction, it was as if all of the damage and memory loss had been a pretence, and here was my sister Jena, just as she’d always been.
‘When I was thirteen, I said something bad. I said I was raped, and I accused a local man, who’d been my friend.’
Penny tried to interject. ‘Jena, we’re here to talk about the attack on 25 April.’
The reporters looked at each other, confused, but we were recording live, and Jena had to continue. Penny coaxed her: ‘Nine weeks ago, Jena. What happened?’
Jena cast a sideways look at Mum, then down at her hands. It looked like she had forgotten what to say; the illusion of any normalcy was destroyed.
But then she spoke again.
‘I can’t take back the lie I said when I was thirteen. But I can tell the truth now. Douglas Campbell didn’t rape me. He didn’t attack me nine weeks ago either. He’s innocent.’ She turned, looked directly at Dad and said, ‘I can’t remember to forget anymore.’
From behind the line of reporters, Sonia stepped forward, and shouted, ‘You should have said that sixteen years ago, you bitch! Do you have any idea how you’ve wrecked our lives?’
She pushed further forward, so she was wedged between the two cameramen, and directly in front of Jena. ‘Do you know how much pain you’ve caused?’
I reached into my rucksack and pulled out the gun, standing to face Sonia.
‘It’s you who caused pain, you bitch.’
Like an actress in an action movie, I pointed the gun directly at her face.
CHAPTER 40
Sonia froze. Penny realised what was happening and left the podium, moving to stop me, but I resisted, wobbling the gun so it was aimed at the crowd. There was a single scream and several wails.
‘Sam, please. Put the gun down.’
Everyone waited, frozen, to see what I’d do. The cameras were still rolling and no one appeared to breathe.
I re-aimed at Sonia, who was supporting herself on the BBC camera, gasping and afraid. I slid back the top of the gun like I was taught in The Spiral, felt the shot move into place.
Hearing the click, she began to beg.
‘Oh nooo. Please, God . . .’
I experienced a rush of relief that this was actually g
oing to work. ‘Come on, Sonia!’ I demanded. ‘Confess!’
Sonia was hyperventilating, eyes wide and mouth slack, her face a picture of horror. I had a room full of witnesses; it would even be on camera. I could almost taste her confession.
Next to me, Dad was still and dumb. Mum gingerly leaned forward, red-faced and heaving, her voice no more than a wheeze.
‘Oh sweetheart, what are you doing?’
Everyone was watching me, but I kept focused on Sonia. Her eyes were full of panic, beads of sweat on her brow.
‘I’m waiting, Sonia. We all are.’
Douglas moved to stand behind his ex, he put his hand on her shoulder very slowly, because she was afraid and drunk and skittish. Jesus watched my every move from the cross hanging round his neck.
Douglas looked over Sonia’s head to address me. ‘Sam, please put the gun down. Let the police arrest her. She had good reason for what she did, given what Jena just admitted. A jury needs to hear that.’
Sonia flinched, her voice a high-pitched warble of uncontrolled terror. ‘What the fuck are you talking about, Douglas? Arrest me for what?’
Her tears fascinated me, the way they dripped to her narrow chin, to the end of her nose, and she made no move to wipe them away. Rob was now next to his mum, wanting to protect her, but not able to reach her, flanked as she was by two cameras and Douglas.
‘What the fuck have I done?’ shrieked Sonia, losing control.
‘I need you to tell everyone what you did to my sister, or I’ll pull the trigger.’
From beside me, Dad, who had been silent until then, said my name. ‘Sam. Please put the gun down.’
‘Sonia deserves this!’
‘Sam, no.’ Dad’s voice was cracking, barely audible to anyone but me.
‘Admit what you did, Sonia. I’ll count to three. One . . .’
Douglas barked, ‘Just admit it, Sonia. We know you had your reasons. Jena ruined our lives!’
‘Two . . .’
Sonia’s breathing was irregular, and her eyes had popped; she was close to collapse.
