by Lee Hayton
Fat chance that would happen. I fully expected we’d be on the move again several times before my mother would ever pull herself together enough to visit a school office.
‘Is that legal, Patricia?’ Mr Bond asked in a teasing tone.
There was a loud bell that made me jump, and he laughed. ‘No need to be so tense,’ he said as he gave my shoulder a squeeze and released it. ‘It’s only the end of period bell.’
I handed the clipboard back to Ms Pearson, and she handed me a handwritten timetable. ‘Here you go. Your next class will be biology. Just follow this lot; you’ll be with them for all standard classes, and you’ve been enrolled in graphic design and computer science for your two voluntary classes.’
At my raised eyebrows, she added, ‘They’re the only classes with room at the moment. You can try to select next year. If you’re still here.’
She turned away and gave Mr Bond a look I couldn’t decipher. ‘You left your textbook in my office. I put it in the staffroom for you.’
I tagged into the stragglers from class and followed them out of the prefab building and into one of the more solid-looking wing buildings.
‘Hey Daina,’ called a voice behind me, and I turned to see Michelle coming up behind me. I slowed my step so she could catch up.
‘Looks like Mr Bond took a real shine to you,’ she said, her smile revealing the whitest teeth I’d seen on a real person.
I shrugged, unsure of what response to give. I wasn’t used to being approached. Teenagers tended to have formed into their social cliques well before I turned up, so I was used to being ignored or being stared at. Not being talked to.
‘Hand on the shoulder and everything. He wouldn’t go into bat with Patricia for just anyone, you know.’
I shrugged again, feeling less comfortable by the minute. It was almost a relief when I felt the sharp jab of her knuckles in my kidneys. It was a well-practiced shot, but I was well-practiced at receiving them.
Michelle leant forward, so close I could feel her breath on my face. ‘You’d do well to stay clear of him from now on, got it?’
I nodded. I got it.
Chapter Two
Coroner’s Court 2014
Jeremy Bond doesn’t look like he used to.
The hipster appeal he exuded to his class ten years back has aged into seediness. His unkempt blond curls speak now of holding onto a look too far past its prime. Mutton dressed as lamb. They suit the shop window, though.
His smile reveals teeth yellowed with nicotine, a habit that seemed daring and unusual at a different time, now just frowned upon by society everywhere.
His voice on the stand is hesitant. I remember his easy charm, the lilt of his voice matching perfectly to the teasing expressions that were his trademark, but now his voice tremors and he seems petulant when he would once have pouted.
Some things don’t change, though. Michelle is seated right in the front row, hanging off his every word. She married him, you know. After everything that happened, everything he did to her. Some dogs like being kicked.
She’s sitting right next to my mother. As though she were family. As though she were someone who cared. The lying bitch. She’s not there to make sure justice is done or to find out what happened. No, she’s seated right up the front there as a fanbase for Jeremy.
She’s still thin and blond. She still looks like a cunt.
‘Mr Bond, when was the last time that you saw Daina Harrow?’
Jeremy angles his seat towards the coroner. He seems like a nice man. Quiet voice, making sure that no one is feeling pressured. Aware that being in the front of the room could be hard for some people, and going out of his way instead to make it seem like a private chat.
‘Oh, I think I probably saw her last about a month before her death.’
‘Keep in mind that we haven’t yet established a time or date of death, so you’ll have to give us an approximate date, if you don’t mind.’
‘Well,’ Jeremy screws up his face. Fine. So he knows it’s a month before my death, but he doesn’t know when? Could that possibly be because he’s lying through his teeth?
‘I’d guess around November or December 2004.’ Jeremy notes the frown on the coroner’s face, thinks back and hurries to amend, ‘Around December. Definitely.’
‘Okay. And how did she seem at the time?’
‘Oh, much as usual. She was always quiet, introspective, you know. Maybe she was a bit pale.’
Listen to him. Just listen. A bit pale. I was down to 45kg and all he noticed was that I was a “bit pale”. Sic him, Judge.
Except the coroner isn’t a judge, and he isn’t going on the attack. He just accepts this testimony the same way he accepts all the rest.
What I want is a trial. A good juicy trial. Have a prosecutor ready to jump to her feet and yell, objection! Not that they run a courtroom that way here. But still, would be nice.
‘Well, thank you for your time, Mr Bond. Unless there’s anything further you’d like to add at this time you can step down. Keep in mind that I may call you back to give evidence at a later time if it becomes necessary.’
‘Thank you.’
He stands and walks to the nearest bench to sit down. Not because that’s the seat he’s chosen as the most advantageous, but because that’s the closest and he wants to get out of the limelight. Well, well, Jeremy. Events echo, don’t they?
Daina 2004
‘So what I want you to do is pull back the tables and chairs. We’ll create a space in the centre. Shove all the tables over here, and line up the seats. Just like a theatre.’
Mr Bond directed the operation with a theatrical flourish, fitting in with the occasion he was trying to create.
‘Right,’ he said, clapping his hands together and rubbing them. ‘Now all I need is a volunteer to play the Lady Macbeth. Don’t all raise your hands at once.’
His irony was lost on the class, and they remained motionless. While helping to reposition every piece of furniture in the class, I’d somehow managed to be in the front of the group. I tried to step back and behind the next person, but it was Jason who, completely in thrall to his fear of public speaking though there’s little chance of him being chosen, gave me a shove that not only had me back on the front line but falling forward a step.
‘I’ll do it, Jeremy,’ Michelle said, stepping forward. He encouraged the use of his first name, but she made it sound like honey on her tongue. Beside her, Sharon stuck her finger in her mouth, completing the mime with a simulation of retching.
‘We already have our volunteer,’ Mr Bond said as he grabbed hold of my arm and raised it above my head. I tried to pull it back in horror, but it was too late then. I glared at Jason as I stepped in front of the class.
‘Right, I’ll take you outside for a five-minute consult to offer you direction, and then you can come back through once I’ve talked these guys through the program.’
He pushed me gently between the shoulder blades out of the class, and I walked out. I even managed to resist the urge to just keep on walking.
‘Right, so I just want you to mime the actions of Lady Macbeth,’ Mr Bond said as he closed the door gently. ‘I’ll have the class read out the soliloquy on your behalf, so you just need to follow along with what they’re saying. Okay?’
It wasn’t okay. It was anything but okay, but I didn’t have a way of telling him that.
Michelle had already been scrutinising everything I did. Being picked out for this role was probably as much to her horror as it was to mine. There was no way of retrieving the situation now, though. If I tried, it would only make things a hundred, a thousand, a million times worse.
And Mr Bond just headed back into the class as though he hadn’t singled me out as a target. As though he hadn’t just made my life hell.
I waited in the hallway until I receive the knock to come back through. I acted out the stupid charade of a stupid woman stupidly trying to take back something she never can. I acted it out and tried not to catch Mic
helle’s eye, even as I tried to keep track of where she was and what she was doing.
By the time I was allowed to sit back down, and it was someone else’s turn to have a fool made of them, my head ached.
And that was the first class of the day.
#
At lunchtime, I walked down the footpath at the front of the school to go to the mall. There was a teacher standing on the path, and as soon as I saw her I got a bad feeling in my stomach, but I kept going.
‘Do you have a note?’
‘Pardon?’ I stalled, trying to get by.
‘You want to go through to the mall, so you have to have a note. If you don’t, you can head back.’
‘I didn’t know. I’m new here.’
I tried my best to insert full little-girl-lost into it, but I think my expression may have tipped into full bitch mode while my control wasn’t looking. She glared at me as though I’d told her to go fuck herself.
‘Well, you know now.’
She stepped to the side to stop another girl who was using my encounter as her own opportunity. I turned back to the school. It wasn’t as though I could slip by her. The path was the same width as the footpath, and it led to the only gap for 100 metres in the chain-linked fence that bounded the school.
I still needed to get to the mall, though. It was already ten minutes past twelve, and I was cutting it fine if I wanted to get to the bank before my mother woke up.
I slipped down the side of the school where the secondary bike sheds were. There was a six-foot wooden fence down this side. The joists were on the other side as well, so there weren’t any footholds.
I trailed my hand along the rough wooden surface as I strode half the length of the school without finding a way to hoist myself up. There was a possibility that I could make it out through the back of the school, across the playing fields, but then I’d have to walk three blocks to get back to the mall entrance which was where the bank was located. If I tried that I’d be late to class, and that would draw even more unwanted attention to me. I was already the new girl: I already had a skank targeting me because of some bizarre crush. I really didn’t need to be known for skipping class on top of that.
I looked back towards the front of the school. I couldn’t see the path from here, but I had no real reason apart from absurd hope to believe that it was now vacated.
I looked at the bike sheds again. If I could get up on the roof, I could just jump down on the other side of the fence. They backed up almost to the fence line. But there was no handy way up onto the roof either.
I walked back anyway, an idea starting to gain traction in my brain.
It was within a metre of the fence. If I could manage to prop my back against it, I could shimmy up the shed by my legs, then use pressure to move my back up again, and so on.
I didn’t think about it for too long, otherwise I wouldn’t be able to try it. I pressed my hands and back against the fence, and placed my foot a metre up on the side of the bike shed. I closed my eyes and brought my other leg up as well. It felt like I was laughing in the face of gravity, but for the moment it worked. Now I just had to get up another couple of feet, and manage to wriggle over the top and I was home free.
‘What the fuck are you doing?’
My eyes popped open, and I saw Michelle advancing upon me, with an entourage following close behind. Elvira, if my memory from homeroom roll-call served me okay, and Alicia, also from Mr Bond’s English class. In panic, I pressed hard back against the fence and stepped up the wall to raise myself another foot.
‘Oh, dear god,’ Michelle snorted at my attempts. ‘You know there’s a road out front you can just walk down?’
I tried to hitch myself up again, but the constant pressure required was already making my arms shake, and my back twitch. I didn’t get much further upwards, but at least I didn’t fall.
‘What are you going to do if I do this?’ Michelle lunged for my feet, and I made another desperate move upwards, trying to get up and over before she could catch me.
I was still short of the top of the fence, but I avoided Michelle’s outstretched hands. Her smile and the tense line of her body let me know she was about to make another attack.
I pushed back hard against the fence, freed one of my legs, and as Michelle came at me again instead of placing it back on the shed wall, I placed it firm in the middle of her chest and shoved myself back and up. Twisting I caught the top of the fence, pulled myself up to my middle, and swung my legs over. I held for a moment to try to ascertain I wasn’t about to land in anything life-threatening. But my arms shook so much I couldn’t hold for long and I dropped down, turning my ankle slightly on the soft bark, and scratching the side of my arm on some overgrown lavender, but otherwise safe.
‘You fucking bitch!’
Michelle’s head popped up over the side of the fence. For a moment I thought she would be on me in a second, and I stepped back. But then I heard the frantic scrabble of thick rubber soles failing to make purchase on the lichen-slippery wood, her elbow slipped from the top of the fence, and she disappeared with the thump of a hard landing.
I didn’t need a repeat performance. I ran to the mall entrance.
#
I stopped outside the bank and waited until my breath had returned to normal before entering. There was a queue of people waiting for the tellers, but I stayed in the lobby and used one of the automatic teller machines.
I entered my mother’s card and then typed in the pin. The hand around the keypad was a bit theatrical maybe, but there was someone in line behind me and I kept seeing news stories about people shoulder-surfing their way into your bank account.
There was a beep and the screen registered ‘PIN incorrect – try again.’
I entered the number again. Fast fingers must have got it wrong.
The same message appeared, and I heard an impatient grunt from the line forming behind me. I should’ve stayed outside and used that machine instead. There was only the one user there.
My heart was thumping noticeably in my chest. I told myself that was simply due to my exertions, and entered the PIN for the third time.
And watched as my bank card was swallowed.
The man behind me in line laughed. I turned, cheeks burning, shoulder bumping him as I walked by. Arsehole.
‘Steal it, did you?’ he shot back at me as I reached the door.
I carried on without looking back.
My mother must have cancelled the card. So either I’d have to steal her replacement again, or just live in hope that she used the money for its intended purpose, unlike every other time her benefit was paid out.
Shit!
I couldn’t believe I’d gone to all this trouble for something that was already a no go. My selfish mother. Okay, so it was her bank card, but now she’d just take the money out and waste it on her favourite hobby. I’d started to get used to having the money available to buy groceries so we could both eat and pre-pay electricity so I didn’t have to endure cold showers every morning.
When I was getting close to the fence, I scanned the wood to see if there was a knothole anywhere. I could always go back through the normal pathway, but I couldn’t imagine that I would be able to enact a re-entry with earning the third degree from Ms Simons in her sentry duty.
And, okay, my current situation didn’t warrant a return visit, but that wasn’t to say I wouldn’t need it in future. I didn’t want a teacher patrolling the pathway and the bike sheds the next time I needed to get across to the mall.
There was a gap in the fence further up from where I’d originally landed. I tiptoed through the bark and bush covered ground and put my eye up to it. I couldn’t see shit. Or, should I amend that to, I could see shit. Whatever. There was no one standing directly in front of the knothole, of that much at least I could be certain. And it was further down from where I’d gone over so maybe I’d have a few seconds lead time even if Michelle and her friends were still hanging about.
&nb
sp; I could hear the five-minute bell go. Class was about to begin again anyway. No options left.
I grabbed hold of the vertical strut and put by foot on the horizontal and boosted myself up. I could clasp the top of the fence before I was even fully standing, and then I just had to jump up and swing my legs over.
It was as I passed the gravitational point of no return that I heard them running.
I tried to swing my legs back mid-turn, but all I succeeded doing was hitching my skirt on the top of the fence leaving my backside and legs fully exposed.
There was a whoop of laughter as I struggled to free the fabric, and then I felt a hand grab at my underwear and yank it down.
The cool air against my buttocks. A flash of light. And then more laughter, running away this time.
I hung on one hand as I pulled my knickers back up. My skirt tore from the weight of me. It would be a hell of a repair job, but at least I was free now to drop to the ground.
There was no one in sight.
My skirt had torn in a vee shape down the side, but I adjusted my kilt pin to move the front further over, and that hid it well enough. The bell rang for class and I started to run towards the science wing. My mind worked through the series of events trying to make sense of them. A laugh, the pull on my pants, a flash.
They’d taken a photo.
The bitches had taken a fucking photo.
#
When I walked up the drive, I could see that the curtains in the lounge were pulled shut. I tried to be quiet as I slipped my key into the lock, but every sound seemed to reverberate until it was all I could hear. With the door closed again behind me I could only make out the outlines of furniture in the gloom. There was a heavy fug of cigarette smoke, old fast food grease, and alcohol fumes that made me want to gag and cry at the same time.
If I had my way, I’d stride through the house opening every curtain and window wide to let in the cleansing sunshine and clean, fresh air. I would vacuum up the ash and throw out the half-empty food containers, and pour every full and half-drained bottle down the sink. I’d throw my mother in the shower, and her clothes in the washer, and prepare something for the table that involved fruits and/or vegetables, and didn’t rely on grease and salt for flavour.
