‘Not for many years. How is he?’
‘Physically, he is reasonably okay. He has a scar on his face and he can’t walk or go to the bathroom on his own. He doesn’t talk either, but some days he’ll feed himself. Takes him forever but if we chop it up, he’ll eat pretty much anything. A tube remains in for when he won’t.’
‘What does he do all day?’
‘I was here when he arrived. He does nothing. He lives in a daydream. He cries out at night sometimes but don’t we all? I couldn’t tell you if he’s happy, but he isn’t suffering. Are you ready?’
I follow her in and recognise him straight away. Maybe it’s a big wheelchair, but he looks tiny. He has a dopey look as he drools at the television. There are others in the room but they are ancient and fast asleep. Anne takes off the brake and pushes Justin next to an armchair in the corner.
‘Would you like a cup of tea?’
‘That’s very kind, but I can’t stay long.’
I receive an understanding smile, which makes me feel rotten. A gaping shirt reveals a tube protruding from his chest. The edge of a nappy rises out of loose trousers. This wasn’t what I expected. Pity and sadness remove any fears. I liked Justin. He was harmless and damn near invisible. I doubt he would have got involved without encouragement.
‘Justin, can you hear me?’
He looks into the distance in the same way as he did when he was staring at the television. The scar she barely mentioned is huge and his skull isn’t the right shape. There’s nothing I could do to him that hasn’t been done already. I take his hand.
‘Why did you do it, Justin? We were friends. It ruined my life. I had a child, Justin. It might have been yours.’
I detect pressure on my hand. Is it registering on some level? I keep talking.
‘The baby had a shock of blonde hair. The same colour as you and your brother. And that small kink you have on the top of both of your ears? She had that, too.’
Again, I receive a definite squeeze. Anne walks in and sees me holding his hand. ‘That’s it, Dee. Just talk to him.’
‘He squeezed my hand.’
‘It’s involuntary, I should think. He’ll find it reassuring and comforting though, so keep it up.’
I shift my chair around when she’s gone until we face each other.
‘Her name was Chloe. I had to give her away. She’d be nearly eighteen now.’
There is no change in expression at that news. There’s nothing else to say. His grip is loose and I remove my hand. Standing there, I struggle for words. He focuses through me.
‘Goodbye, Justin.’
Big fat teardrops form in both eyes and roll down his cheeks. That’s the best apology so far.
‘I forgive you.’
I turn and leave.
When I sign out, I catch the receptionist’s eye. Gesturing to the expectant Mavis who is quietly wringing her hands, I whisper, ‘Isn’t her husband here yet?’
She winks and murmurs back, ‘No, he’s been dead for thirty years.’
59
Football Match
We walk through town, past the courts, and then over the bridge. I spot an old barge moored up, which has been converted into a pub and restaurant. Maybe we can go there afterwards. I steal a peek at Irina and suspect that’s unlikely. She is hanging. It was a quiet Friday night and I don’t remember her drinking that much. However, fear cloaks her and she didn’t want to come.
The swarm of people reminds me of a mass movement at HMP Peterborough. There was a certain camaraderie as you walked with hundreds of your fellow inmates to your place of work. It’s the same here. Instead of prison tracksuits, there are matching shirts and scarves. I wish I’d bought both when I came in the week to buy our tickets.
As we approach the ground, I am transported back to the only other time here with Arthur. Martha and Arthur were responsible for many fond memories. Who knows where my life would have led if I’d stayed with them? I allow myself to scan the crowds to see if I can spot him. A smile sneaks on my face. Silly girl. He’d be in his seventies now.
I notice other women proudly wearing Peterborough United’s colours. Irina and I have jeans and boots on but still full slap. It’s my titanium shield and my disguise. I doubt anyone I know will be here, but I keep my shades on. It was bright enough out of the ground for that not to be weird but the roof blocks the sun in the stand. I’ll remove them at kick-off. Irina has found the biggest pair I’ve ever seen and has pulled the furry hood up on her parka. It’ll be like watching the game with a giant panda.
There are many different types of people here. Men in expensive outfits and women who could be famous mix with those in old and crumpled coats and trousers. There are all colours and creeds, and I am no one. Irina follows behind me, through the gates, like a child. We link arms as we go up the concrete gangway and my eyes widen at the vast green pitch. The music blares from speakers above and causes Irina to shrink away from it.
‘Come on, grumpy. Row H 26 and 27.’
For some reason, I’ve been paranoid I’d find someone sitting in our seats but they’re empty. The match is a local derby, and the place fills up fast. The cheer for the players when they arrive on the pitch is deafening. The opposition leads two-nil as half-time approaches. Who cares, it’s nice to see goals. I remember Arthur’s trick of buying drinks a few minutes before the whistle to avoid the queue.
Irina needs a magic elixir, not a coffee, to turn her afternoon around. While we wait for the game to restart, I ask her what’s been on my mind for a while.
‘Why do you drink so much?’
‘What do you mean?’
‘You drink to get drunk. I watch guys doing it all the time but you’re the only woman I’ve seen.’
‘You noticed?’
‘Of course. Is it to do with your past?’
She takes her oversized shades off and stares at me through rheumy eyes.
‘It’s often the only way I can relax and forget things. It isn’t because of my daughter. I’m stressed and it relaxes me.’
‘What have you got to be anxious about? We’ve cushy jobs for good money. Accommodation thrown in. We don’t answer to anyone. And we have each other.’
Her eyes search mine.
‘It’s not just you who has problems. Life rains on us all, Katie.’
Her words shock me. Have I become self-centred and can’t see that everyone has struggles? Do I really know what’s going on in Irina’s head? She’s ready to say something when the speakers above blare and everyone rises to their feet.
‘Oh God, I’m dying,’ she says.
‘You what?!’
‘No, not that. My hangover’s killing me. How much longer does this fun last?’
‘If you’re not enjoying it, go home. I’ll catch you later. I don’t mind staying on my own.’
It’s a surprise when she pops her glasses back on, squeezes my hand, and shuffles past the clapping supporters and out of sight. The referee’s whistle distracts me, and I focus on the game.
* * *
The match ends in a two-all draw. I worried beforehand that the big crowd would unsettle me. It hasn’t. I’ll nip to the stadium shop afterwards and buy a scarf. The throng stream out of the ground. I don’t want to get involved in the crush as they feed into the tunnel, so I sit in my seat and people watch.
A familiar man walks by and averts his eyes as ours meet. I know him, and the way his shocked face turns around means he knows me. My brain whirrs. Should I worry? He sneaks a final look and then is gone out of sight. I curse as I replace my shades.
I’m the last to leave. All I think about is trying to identify that man. I bump through the turnstiles and decide the scarf can wait. I want to be at home. Filtering through the crowd with my head down, I glance up and he’s in front of me.
‘Katie? Is that really you?’
It can’t be. I peer at his wavy hair, his familiar blue eyes, and not least his lethargic grin. Tears stream down our faces. I cry because he w
as right. We would meet again. I step forward and hug Tommy.
60
Charters
What do you say after more than twenty years? Tommy solves the problem.
‘Shall we have a beer?’
‘Good idea,’ I reply. ‘How about that boat place?’
‘Charters? Okay, I haven’t been in there for ages.’
We don’t talk the short distance there as we walk with the remainder of the crowd through the traffic light system. We both smile at each other. The steps to the riverside are steep and slippery.
‘Careful,’ he says. ‘I’ve had a few nasties on these over the years. What do you want to drink?’
‘Any kind of cider will be fine.’
A ramp leads us onto the boat and we walk down some gloomy stairs. The place is heaving, as you’d expect on match day. Tommy is no stranger to a bar and navigates his way to the front. He’s grown into his looks. His clothes fit well but they have a hint of age about them. They certainly aren’t designer.
A couple get out of two seats around a small table. I quickly sit before they’re taken. I watch Tommy count change out when the barman gives him the price. He returns at a strange angle and I realise the floor isn’t level. There’s a good buzz in here though, and it smells as if beer has seeped into the wooden floorboards over many years. He puts a pint in front of me and the table violently rocks toward me. His glass goes on the other side and it bangs back. We laugh at the same time and we’re friends again.
After some general chat about the football, I ask him the obvious question.
‘What happened to you?’
He’s ready for me and I can tell everything will come out.
‘The couple I lived with adopted me in the end. They were lovely. Still are. I went to a good school, but I wasn’t as bright as their son had been. They never said I disappointed them, but it was always at the back of my mind. I’d missed so much schooling that I could never catch up. Further education was not an option.’
He takes a huge gulp with enthusiasm, and I note he’s no stranger to beer.
‘I got in with a wild crowd. Nothing too serious, but drink and drugs. My adoptive parents moved away to Lincoln. They asked me to come, and I did. They helped me find a job with British Gas. I just had no focus. HR sacked me for persistent lateness. That annoyed my father, and I left. Living with like-minded lads was a poor idea. I slipped back into my old ways.’
‘How are you doing now?
‘I won’t lie to you. Things were rough for a long time. Did you get the sense you don’t belong anywhere? I kept on moving around, taking jobs, losing them. Finally, I got my act together about five years ago. I went and saw my parents and told them everything. They were wary to begin with but then saw how serious I was. I moved back to Peterborough, away from bad influences and started again. There is always building work here. I’ve been doing it ever since.’
‘Sounds like you’re doing fine. Any children?’
Immediately, I can see he has a dilemma on his hands. There’s something he doesn’t want to tell me, or he is embarrassed by it. Tommy was always good at talking his way out of things. He stands up. I think he’s about to leave, but instead takes his coat off. He needn’t say anymore as I notice his arms. He has the same blue tattoos I did.
‘I was arrested for drink driving. Again. They sent me down to teach me a lesson. I did four months here in Peterborough’s nick.’
‘Is that where those tattoos came from?’
He idly looks at them and his eyes sharpen as he realises not everyone knows what prison markings look like. ‘No, I got these in Lincoln’s jail after being caught with stolen property. I did learn, eventually, and I’m squeaky clean now. I’ve been in the same two-bed flat for four years and had my job on the diggers for three.’
The only thing that means anything to me is that he’s being honest. He didn’t need to tell me any of that. I take a big sip of cider and slip off my own coat. Tommy admires the dragon on my arm.
‘As for kids,’ he adds. ‘I never wanted any. After all the bullshit we went through, I figured I didn’t want to bring any more children into this world. What’s your tale?’
Where do I start? How do I explain what happened, what became of me, and worst of all, what I did? I always trusted Tommy. He’s taken a chance by telling me the truth when he could have glossed over the past.
‘Same again? You’ll need another drink for this.’
He will hear everything.
61
Attraction
His face displays the emotions you’d expect when you hear a history like mine. If indeed there has been one similar. Shock, anger, disgust, revulsion, and a touch of fear. Strangely, it’s the last emotion I find the worst to see.
I decide not to mention my recent visits to Simon and Justin. I update him from the day he left and finish at the football match. He accepts why I slipped my licence. He agreed they can be worse than the sentence itself. I tell him about the probation officer killing himself and bumping into Bill Ivy. I reveal my fears that Bill’s now a policeman and knew Tim Thorn. He understands my worries and the severity of the situation I’m in. I even explain I’ve got myself tangled up with criminals but I’m not involved.
He recovers fast. Kids from care do. There is little that would shock him or me to the core. Which is sad for both of us.
‘There’s not much chance of them finding you here. I’m unsure why I recognised you. You’re so different. Wasn’t your hair brown not blonde. The clothes and make-up…’
‘Yes?’
‘You look pretty, but, powerful I guess.’
‘Pretty?’
‘Bugger off. Do you fancy another drink?’
‘Very smooth.’ I’m enjoying his discomfort. There’s still that same spark, perhaps even a little more. Our stories make us quite a pair. ‘I’ve got work, unfortunately.’
‘What are you going to do about all that?’
‘I’ll keep you posted. I have a couple of tasks I need to see through.’
‘Sounds ominous.’
‘It is a bit.’
‘Look, I said I have my own place. You can stay any time. No funny business, no judgement. Just an old friend to a new one. I also reckon you might not get recalled if they find you. Talk about extenuating circumstances. They’d want to cover it up as well.’
‘That’s good to know, thank you.’
‘What did you say the name of the policeman was again?’
‘Bill, Bill Ivy.’
‘I’ve heard that before. It sounds funny when you say it fast. Let’s exchange numbers, I’ll see if I remember.’
‘Nice! You are a smooth operator. You’ll have my bra size if I don’t get out of here quick.’
To his credit, he manages to stop himself looking down. I stand and retrieve my phone, and we swap numbers. He also gives me the address of his flat. Outside, we hug once more.
‘I’ll catch up with you soon,’ I say.
‘I hope so.’
We begin to walk off in opposite directions when he shouts my name.
‘Be careful with that Bill Ivy. I still don’t remember, but I’ve a feeling he’s very bad news.’
62
Jordan’s Farm
I decide not to tell Tony where I’m going today. Apart from him being an unknown quantity, I want no one else involved. Jordan’s wife said he’d only be away a few days, so he should be back now after a week.
Oksana sometimes cycles to work so I borrow her bike. She joked that I should look after it as it was the only thing she has that makes her feel alive. The farm is a five-mile ride. It’s a good bike and I fly along. I regret not taking the helmet as the trucks hammer past within inches. I stop, release my ponytail, and swing my head. If I die, I may as well do it with a breeze in my hair. I’m glad of my sunglasses because although the sun is weak at this time of the morning, it’s still in my eyes.
I put real effort in for the final stretch and see
what Oksana means because I’m soaring. I’ve forgotten how to be carefree. Ironically, I’m cycling to the area where I last rode a bike. I turn a corner and the wind is now in my face. Muscles burn in new places. I remember how invigorating running was when I first got out. Getting fit will be a priority when this is over. Cycling might be the way to do it.
I’ve arrived and am contemplating my approach when a car pulls out of the driveway. I duck behind a tree and watch his wife drive away. The farmyard looks empty. I prop Oksana’s bike against a wall. Jordan’s land stretches out to the rear of his house. I scan the horizon for movement. There’s nothing nearby. I take the water from my backpack and sip as I enjoy the cool air on my sweaty skin.
His farm leads all the way to a big wood. He could be in one of the far fields. I return the bottle and my coat into the pack, sling it on, and cycle down the lane between thick wheat. The huge skies and flat landscape for miles were the things I most loved about being out here in the fens. Everyone was lonely out here. I’m not sure what to expect from Jordan. He wasn’t much of a talker on the subjects that interested him.
I see a cloud of dust ahead. A tractor dragging a plough turns over the soil in the middle of a field. It stops and a blond-haired man climbs out and walks in front of the vehicle. His gait and crouch as he examines the ground are familiar. It’s him all right. He glances up when I cycle into view. Jordan still looks identical to his twin. They’ve even aged in the same way. Hard manual work has kept him whippet thin.
Time hasn’t taught him any manners. He ignores me and heads back to the tractor. He fetches a spade from the cab and returns to the same spot. I rest the bike on the floor and trudge through the muddy ground. He stands when I arrive and holds the spade like a weapon. I watch him as he judges me with curiosity. I guess he wouldn’t see many women out here.
‘You lost?’
‘No. I’ve found who I’m looking for.’
‘Yeah, and who’s that?’
‘You, Jordan. Do you recognise your old friend?’
SHADOWS OF REGRET: If your life was ruined, would you seek redemption or take revenge? Page 20
