Keep You Safe

by Rona Halsall

  Can’t get downhearted, though.

  If nothing else, she’ll be spooked as hell after today. And frightened people make mistakes, don’t they?

  Thirty

  Then

  On the third day, when Katya didn’t come to visit, Natalie knew she had to do something. Maybe she’s ill? It was an appealing idea, better than worrying that she might have offended her, and the thought that she might be able to repay Katya’s kindness became motivation enough to track her down.

  At association time, she crept out of her door and flattened herself against the wall.

  Women were gathered in twos and threes, leaning against the walls, or sitting together, chatting. Natalie looked up and down the corridor, but couldn’t see a guard anywhere. She swallowed and told herself there was nothing to worry about. I’ve managed to get food and meds the last couple of days, haven’t I? But she’d had a prison officer with her then, so everyone was on their best behaviour. Now, on her own, she felt like a tourist who’d strayed into a foreign ghetto.

  She slinked her way along the wall and hadn’t gone ten yards before a woman caught sight of her, walked over and blocked her way. Red-rimmed eyes challenged her from no more than a couple of feet away. The woman was tall and gangly, all bones and joints with no fat to soften her skeletal shape. Her thin brown hair was scraped back, emphasising the length of her face. Tattooed tears dripped down her right cheek, ending at a gash of a scar next to her mouth. A spider’s web decorated her neck.

  ‘Natalie, isn’t it?’ She spoke with a lisp, her front teeth missing.

  Natalie nodded and resisted the temptation to wipe the spray of spittle off her face. The stories Katya had told her about bullying, rape and torture flashed through her mind and she held on to the wall with sweaty palms. She glanced behind her, but the path back to her cell was blocked now by a huddle of curious women. They inched closer, crowding round her until she was at the centre of a semi-circle. Natalie’s heart clenched.

  ‘You’re Katya’s new girl, aren’t you?’ the woman said.

  It sounded like an accusation. Natalie pressed against the wall, the cold seeping through her clothes as she tried to create some distance between herself and the crowd of women.

  ‘Cat got your tongue?’ The woman grabbed Natalie’s chin with a bony hand, lowering her face so she could peer into Natalie’s eyes. A bead of sweat worked down Natalie’s back. More faces crowded round, bodies pressing closer. Rancid breath and the smell of body odour filled her nostrils. The woman’s nails dug into Natalie’s skin, but she couldn’t react, was frozen in time, staring into the woman’s steel-grey eyes, like a mouse hypnotised by a snake.

  Hands clawed at Natalie’s clothing, grasped her shoulders, her arms. No sound would come out of her throat and her eyes darted back and forth, searching for the prison officer but all she could see was a row of menacing faces.

  ‘It’s so rude not to answer when you’re spoken to, isn’t it, girls?’ The woman’s eyes narrowed, jaw set.

  ‘Slap her!’ another woman shouted. ‘That’ll loosen her tongue.’

  The force of the first blow whipped Natalie’s head to the side, banging it against the wall. She cried out, unable to think or even move, her breath pumping in and out. Hands started slapping at her from all directions, stinging her skin like a swarm of wasps. The first punch caught her unawares, as a fist drove into her stomach and her breath whooshed out of her. She doubled over, a second punch glancing off her cheek.

  In slow motion, she felt herself fall to the floor, was aware that she banged her shoulder, smacked her hip onto the concrete. But the pain didn’t register, like she’d been reduced to a bubble of thoughts, floating above her body. Sounds muffled, blending together into a background murmur. She felt tears trickle down her face, into her mouth. Her body curled into a ball.

  Is this how it’s going to end?

  She could hear herself whimpering.

  ‘I love you, Harry,’ she whispered. ‘Love you, love you, love you.’ If these were to be her last words, then she hoped they would reach him somehow, work their way through the ether and root themselves in his baby mind, to grow with him, so that he would always feel his mother’s love, could draw on it whenever he needed her.

  ‘Oi, Mags! Leave her alone!’

  The shout broke through the melee. Between the women’s legs, Natalie could see the booted feet of a prison officer getting closer, could hear her smacking a baton against her palm. The women started to inch away.

  ‘I’ll see you lot later,’ the prison officer said, pointing the baton at them, one by one, sounding like a teacher telling off naughty schoolgirls. ‘Go on, clear off.’

  Natalie blinked, watched feet shuffle away, heard excited voices fade into the distance. She felt the cold of the concrete floor against her cheek.

  ‘It’s okay, they’ve gone now.’ The prison officer held out a hand to her. ‘Come on, up you get. Doc wants to see you.’

  Natalie winced as her bruised body was heaved off the floor. Her skin burned where she’d been struck, her shoulder and hip ached from the fall. Blood pulsed in her ears. She straightened her clothing and wiped her face on her sleeve, but her legs struggled to move and she hung on to the arm of the officer as she was escorted away, aware of eyes watching her every step.

  The doctor flicked her eyes up from the desk as Natalie entered the room. Behind the doctor, shelves bowed with the weight of files and books. Piles of papers sat in a tray on the desk, next to a computer screen. Filing cabinets scrunched together in a grey metal row down one wall. The doctor gave Natalie a quick smile and pointed to a chair. Natalie sat and the prison officer stood next to her, leaning against a filing cabinet.

  ‘Let’s have a chat, shall we? See where we’re up to.’

  Natalie stared at her. She wasn’t in the mood for a chat. What she needed was answers.

  ‘What have you done with Katya? Where’s she gone?’ Natalie’s voice was shaking as much as her body. There was no way she could survive prison without Katya. And the thought of being sent back into that place, that corridor, on her own with those feral women, made her shake even more.

  ‘Let’s talk about you first, shall we?’ The doctor’s voice was all sing-song with the hint of a Welsh accent. She caught Natalie’s eye and peered at her, assessing, scrutinising, like a judge at a dog show.

  Natalie looked away and wrapped her arms around her chest, hugging tight. She was cold now and the shaking in her stomach was making her feel sick.

  ‘Where is she?’ she said, eyes frantically searching the room as if she’d find Katya tidied away in a corner somewhere.

  The doctor looked at the prison officer, eyebrows arched. ‘What on earth’s gone on in there, Jan? The girl’s terrified.’

  ‘Oh, just Mags and her cronies.’ The officer was chewing gum, hands in her pockets, clearly unconcerned. ‘A little “getting to know you” session.’

  Natalie turned to stare at her, mouth open. She thought that was okay?

  The doctor frowned.

  ‘They were going to kill me.’ Natalie’s chin wobbled with the effort of holding her emotions in check.

  The prison officer shook her head. ‘Bit of a scuffle, that’s all.’

  ‘What makes you think they were going to kill you?’ the doctor asked, frowning.

  Natalie’s head was aching, all of her was aching and she pressed her fingers to her temples, head bowed, as she tried to put a coherent account together.

  ‘They surrounded me. Kicking, punching, stomping. If this officer hadn’t come, then… I don’t think they would have stopped.’ She looked up at the doctor. ‘Katya said that would happen. She told me what they’d do to me. That’s why she had to protect me.’ She looked at the officer. ‘What have you done with her?’

  ‘Oh, come on, it wasn’t that bad.’ The prison officer stood up straight now, looking at the doctor. ‘Just a bit of roughing up. You know, the usual stuff. Establishing the order of things.’<
br />
  The doctor nodded, slowly, mouth a thin line. ‘Ah, right. I see what’s going on here.’ She laid her pen on the desk and leant forwards, hands clasped together in front of her. ‘Okay, so paranoia is part of the withdrawal from Oxycodone. Seeing events through a suspicious frame of mind, if you like. Interpreting normal events as threatening.’

  Natalie glared at her. Paranoia? She didn’t think so. That woman had looked mean. Had acted mean. They’d all ganged up against her. There’d been nothing normal about it.

  ‘They were beating me up.’ Natalie spoke slowly, letting each word find its place.

  The doctor looked at her for a moment. ‘Well, you don’t look beaten up. No blood. No broken bones.’

  Natalie stared at the doctor.

  ‘I know you’re feeling better in yourself,’ the doctor said, ‘but mentally, it takes a bit more time for the effects of these drugs to wear off. So… I think we’ll start sessions with Dr Patel. She’ll help you talk it through.’

  The words skimmed over Natalie, making no impression. There was only one thing on her mind now, only one thing that could help her get through this ordeal.

  ‘Where’s Katya?’ Natalie’s jaw clenched. ‘I’m not going anywhere until you tell me where she is.’

  The doctor shrugged. ‘Okay. It’s not a secret. Katya’s in the Unit.’

  Natalie frowned. ‘What’s that? I don’t know what you mean.’

  ‘It’s the secure unit we have here for people who are severely disturbed. She had a… there was another… let’s call it a psychotic incident.’ The doctor flicked a look at the prison officer. ‘So, we’re keeping her in solitary for now, until we sort out her medication. Get her stabilised again.’

  Natalie’s eyes widened. Psychotic incident? No. Not the Katya she knew. Natalie’s eyes travelled between the prison officer and the doctor as they sent each other glances that surely held a message.

  What’s really going on?

  The doctor checked her watch, stood up and walked round the desk, perching on the edge. ‘But the good news, Natalie, is that we’re moving you into a house.’ She smiled at her, like she’d just given a child a sweet. ‘We need your cell for a new admission, and you’ve been making good progress, so…’ She gave Natalie’s arm a pat. ‘Happy?’

  Happy? Natalie glared at her. What on earth is the woman thinking? After everything else had been taken from her, now Katya was gone too. Katya, her protector, who was going to give her a home and help her get Harry back. She couldn’t imagine ever being happy again.

  Thirty-One

  Now

  Natalie hurries away from the car park in the centre of Peel and down the narrow streets towards the promenade, her clothes damp with sweat. She glances over her shoulder but the street behind her is empty and she’s pretty sure she’s lost whoever was in the silver estate. If it was even following me. It could have been a coincidence, couldn’t it? She shakes her head at the naivety of the thought. It was following me, alright.

  If she can get herself to Mary’s, then she’ll be safe while she works out her next move. And who knows what information Mary might have for her. It could all get sorted out today. It’s got to. After the events of the morning she is shaken to the point of exhaustion, her nerves rubbed raw with the effort of escaping whoever is following her.

  At the end of the street, she peeks around the corner, relieved to find she’s just fifty yards from Mary’s house. The promenade is quiet; only a few dog walkers, a couple of old dears pottering along on mobility scooters and a handful of families on the beach. Cars are parked along the road and she takes a minute to check. No. No silver estates. She stops holding her breath and turns towards Mary’s.

  A man crosses the road in front of her, a white poodle trotting at his heels and she squints at him. It can’t be, can it?

  ‘Jack!’ she shouts, before she can stop herself, clutching at the chance meeting before it slips from her grasp. Thank God! It would have been awkward to have to ring him, but now she has a chance to tick another lead off her list.

  Jack frowns and Natalie wonders for a moment if he’s forgotten her, then she remembers her disguise and takes off her glasses, smiles at him.

  He laughs. ‘Oh no! Natalie! I don’t believe it.’ Jack picks up the dog and tucks it under his arm. ‘Not mine,’ he says, arching his head back as it tries to lick his face. ‘Meet Butch. He’s my mum’s, but she fell off her bike at the weekend. Bashed herself up, so I said I’d walk him for her.’

  Natalie steps back a pace, into the shadows of the narrow lane, and leans against the sandstone wall of a fisherman’s cottage, hiding her injured hand behind her back. The presence of Jack makes her feel safer; nobody’s going to attack her while she’s with him, are they? And all the emotions that have been parcelled up inside suddenly burst out, wrapped in a coating of laughter. Jack cocks his head and her cheeks burn. She points at the dog.

  ‘Sorry,’ she says, her laughter subsiding as quickly as it came. ‘It’s just… well…’ She wrinkles her nose, shrugs.

  He gives a wry smile. ‘Yeah, I know. Not cool. He’s a rescue dog, but God knows why she chose a poodle.’ He puts the dog down and stuffs his hands in the pockets of his jeans while it sniffs around her feet. ‘I nearly didn’t recognise you.’

  Her blush deepens and she plucks at her clothes. ‘Disgusting, aren’t they?’ Her mind scrambles for a plausible explanation and she takes a breath while the tale lays itself out in front of her. ‘I was meeting a friend this morning and I wasn’t looking where I was going, bumped into this guy and spilt two skinny lattes all over myself. Honestly, I was dripping. So… I decided to see what I could find in the charity shops. Just to get me back here, so I could change. But there wasn’t much that fitted me and…’ She looks down at herself and does a ta-dah movement with her hands. ‘This is the best I could do for a fiver.’ She gives a little laugh. ‘So here I am dressed in acrylic, on a boiling hot day, sweating like a pig.’ She flaps a hand in front of her face, hoping he believes that her burning cheeks have something to do with her clothes.

  She feels exposed, jittery, sure that the person in the silver estate must be trawling the streets of Peel for her. She changes her position, so Jack is hiding her from the view of anyone driving along the promenade. It’ll do for now, but she needs to hurry things along. She opens her mouth to speak, but he beats her to it.

  ‘So…’ he says, his eyes dropping to look at the dog, ‘I hoped I’d see you after the gig last night.’ He looks up and squints at her. ‘Not your thing?’

  The gig. She’d almost forgotten she was there. ‘Oh, no, it was… I loved the music, that was great, but…’ She winces. ‘Sorry, I’d had a long day and I just—’

  ‘Hey, no worries,’ he says, chopping off the end of her excuse.

  He turns away and looks at the sea for a few moments.

  She fidgets. Come on, get on with it. Ask him.

  ‘Jack, I don’t suppose you know someone called Tom Wilson, do you?’ He turns to look at her. ‘I think he might have been one of the sponsors at your gig last night. Runs Excalibur Wealth Management in Douglas.’

  Jack’s eyes narrow, and she realises that her question is pretty random, given everything he thinks he knows about her.

  ‘I used to work for Tom, a few years ago. I was…’ Thankfully she stops herself at that point, remembering that she told Jack she was a nanny, a job that had allowed her to travel the world with her families. ‘He has a son. Harry. I looked after him when he was a baby. Such a lovely child…’ She looks down, unable to speak for a moment and when she tries again, her voice is thick with emotion. ‘I wanted… I wanted to see him. But they seem to have moved and I don’t know where they are now.’ She blinks and chews her lip, watches the dog while she gathers herself. ‘I don’t suppose you know his address, do you?’

  Jack frowns. ‘Hmm. I wasn’t involved with the sponsors, Craig sorted all that out, but I know who you mean. Know him by sight, that is, b
ut not to talk to.’

  Natalie’s eyes widen. She puts a hand on his arm. ‘So, I don’t suppose your friend Craig knows where Tom and Harry might be living then? Could you ask him?’

  He rubs his chin and she hears the rasp of stubble. ‘Well… as far as I remember, it was all done by email. We had a whole list of people we sent begging emails to. And I’m pretty sure Craig doesn’t know him, either. Not well enough to have his home address, anyway.’

  She sighs, euphoria waning as she realises this could be another dead end.

  ‘Wait a minute, though.’ He holds up a finger. ‘I’m sure there was an article about a local businessman’s wife in one of the papers recently, you know, a profile sort of thing. Tom Wilson, did you say?’

  His wife. Natalie’s skin prickles. Could it really be their nanny, Elena?

  ‘Oh?’ she says.

  ‘Yeah, I’m just trying to think…’ She waits, holding her breath. ‘To be honest, I don’t take much notice of those things. It’s my mum and sister who rabbit on about them. Gossip central, their house is.’ He scrunches up his face. ‘Sorry, I’m not being very helpful, am I?’

  ‘’Course you are.’ She’s sure he knows more than he thinks he does, because people absorb information by osmosis, without even noticing, then it pops out and surprises them. She just needs to coax it out of him. ‘What’s her name, can you remember?’

  ‘Um…’ He rubs his chin. ‘I know she hasn’t taken his surname, but…’ He squeezes his eyes shut as he dredges his mind, but when he opens them again he looks a bit crestfallen. ‘Nah, I’m really sorry, but I honestly can’t remember.’

  She tries another tack. ‘Do you know what she does?’

  He shakes his head. ‘Umm… sorry, that’s another no. I only took notice because she was wearing… well, not a lot, to be honest and my mum showed it to me, thought she looked like a slapper.’