Keep You Safe

by Rona Halsall

Natalie frowned. ‘Are we talking about the same Katya?’

  Beryl snorted. ‘Only one Katya ever been in here.’

  ‘But she has a beautiful house. She showed me. It wasn’t a brothel. No way was it a brothel. I was going to go and stay with her when I got out.’

  Beryl’s eyebrows lifted. ‘Honestly, I don’t know what they’re thinking over there. Letting her groom you like that.’

  ‘What do you mean? She wasn’t grooming me.’

  Beryl huffed. ‘So, what do you think would have happened when you got to her house? And her big brother stuffed you full of heroin. Brought in a party of businessmen?’

  Natalie’s chest tightened, Beryl’s words wrapped around her like barbed wire.

  ‘It’s what happens.’ Beryl leant forwards, eyes narrowed. ‘Believe me. I’ve seen Katya’s girls. And you definitely don’t want to be one of them. Whatever her plans are for you, they’re not going to be good.’

  Natalie shrivelled against the wall.

  ‘But don’t worry, the girls you’re sharing with are fine. Nothing nasty about them. And I’ll look out for you now that I know what Katya’s been up to, put the word round the other officers.’

  Beryl pushed herself away from the bed, smoothed her uniform and gave Natalie a tight smile.

  ‘Just watch your back, love. Katya doesn’t work alone. She’s going to be in the Unit for a while now, I would imagine, but… strange things happen in here. Things that make no sense at all.’

  Thirty-Three

  Now

  Natalie lets herself into Mary’s house, relieved to be inside and out of sight. She runs upstairs to her bedroom, closes the door and dashes to the window, checking up and down the prom for the car that was following her. It’s not there. She gives a sigh of relief, sweaty hands leaving their imprints on the glass.

  She flops on to the bed, running the events of the morning through her mind. If Lech was in the black car, who was in the silver estate? Or was that Lech, and his henchman was in the black car? That theory makes more sense, and would explain why Mr Hawaiian Shirt had a northern accent.

  Wait a minute.

  Her body stills.

  Maybe it was Tom. Could he have seen her when he’d arrived at his office? It’s possible, isn’t it? And then he could have followed her to the car park. The thought circles in her mind. He hadn’t been subtle, the person who’d been following her. The car had been with her all the way from Douglas to Peel. Nothing covert about it. More of a message than a threat. ‘I know you’re here’ sort of thing. Lech wouldn’t do that, would he? She shakes her head, confused.

  Time to ring Sasha, she decides, see what she makes of it all. She gets her phone out of her bag, but after pressing all the buttons, it’s unresponsive and she throws it onto the bed, frowning. Useless thing! What has happened to phone batteries while she’s been in prison? Her old phone would go for a couple of days without being charged, but this one only seems to last a few hours.

  She’s plugging her phone into the charger next to the bed when she hears the creak of footsteps on the landing, followed by a sharp knock on the door.

  ‘Natalie? Can I come in?’

  Before Natalie has time to reply, the door opens and Mary pokes her head round. Her smile sags into a frown as she looks Natalie up and down.

  ‘There you are.’ She sounds a bit edgy. ‘I must have heard you wrong this morning. I thought you weren’t coming back until teatime.’

  Natalie manages a quick smile. ‘Oh, well… yes. My friend wasn’t feeling so good, so we cut it short.’ She checks her phone, shoulders sagging with relief when she hears it buzz back to life.

  ‘Oh, that’s a shame.’

  ‘Yes, well, we’ll see if she’s better tomorrow and do it all then.’ She really needs Mary to leave now, so she can get on with her phone call but Mary edges into the room and shuts the door behind her.

  Dammit! Natalie taps at her phone, finding Sasha’s number in the call log, hoping that Mary will realise that she’s busy.

  ‘I’m just having a bit of soup for lunch if you’d like to join me?’

  Natalie freezes. Lunch? She hasn’t got time for that and is just about to say so when Mary speaks again.

  ‘I also found that address for you.’ Mary’s benign smile is back on her face. ‘It’s downstairs. If you come and have a bite to eat, then I can explain how to get there.’

  The address! Oh, thank God, thank God, thank God.

  Natalie’s heart jumps around like a child at Christmas and she beams at Mary, while she wonders how fast she can eat a bowl of soup. Ten minutes? Then she can be gone. Gone to find Harry and get him to safety.

  ‘That sounds great, Mary.’ Her smile widens. ‘Thank you. I’ve just got to make a call, then I’ll be right there.’

  ‘Okay, lovey.’ Mary turns and disappears down the landing.

  Natalie pulls the door closed, sits on the bed and calls Sasha, but after a few rings it goes straight to voicemail. She stares at the phone and tries again. And again. After the third attempt, she realises she has no choice but to leave a message.

  ‘Sash, it’s me,’ she says, after the beep. ‘Look, I’ve got Harry’s address.’ Her breath hitches in her throat, because saying it makes her realise how close she is now. ‘And… well, there’s a couple of other things I need to talk to you about. Anyway, call me as soon as you can. Please. Thanks… bye, sweetie.’

  Sweetie. It feels strange, saying that word after all this time and it leaves a peculiar taste in her mouth. The taste of something dead. She sighs. Tells herself that she needs to give Sasha a chance. She did say she was going to be busy with filming or whatever else she’s doing and Natalie knows that she can’t rely on her too much. But, there’s bound to be a quiet moment when she’ll be able to return Natalie’s call. And maybe she’ll be free later? Be able to help with their getaway. Her hands clasp together, as though she’s praying.

  It’s all okay, she tells herself. She hadn’t planned on Sasha’s help, and is more than capable of sorting everything out for herself should Sasha be busy. Especially now she knows that Tom is a shadow of the man he used to be. But it would be so much easier with two of them.

  Harry’s address!

  Her heart celebrates with a couple more skips.

  I’m going to see him today. This afternoon.

  She springs off the bed with renewed vigour and catches her reflection in the mirror. It holds her attention like a magnet and her jaw drops. No wonder Mary was staring. She looks ragged without the camouflage of make-up, and her hair is a horrible, tangled mess. I’d scare the life out of Harry if I turned up looking like this. He’s got to recognise her as his mum. That’s the important thing, or he’ll never go with her.

  Okay, new plan, she decides, tearing herself away from her reflection. Get the address from Mary, even it means having to guzzle a bowl of soup, then dye my hair afterwards. While the phone charges. She’ll need her phone to contact the man with the boat, tell him they’re on their way. She works through the timings. An hour if I really pull my finger out. One chance, that’s all I’ll get. Better to prepare properly.

  ‘Soup’s going cold, lovey,’ Mary shouts up the stairs.

  ‘Yeah. On my way,’ she calls and heads down the landing, her jaw set. First things first. Without Harry’s address, she’s not going anywhere.

  Natalie finds Mary in the kitchen, where she’s set the table for the two of them. She’s filling the sink for the washing up and she looks round as Natalie enters, wiping her hands on a tea towel that’s slung over her shoulder.

  ‘Ah, there you are.’ She smiles. ‘I thought we could eat in here. Bit cooler with the back door open.’

  She points Natalie to a seat and brings over two bowls of soup, which have been sitting ready on the worktop. There’s a basket of crusty bread in the middle of the table, glasses of iced water with lemon and red serviettes folded like fans.

  ‘This looks lovely and the soup smells fantastic.
’ Tomato and basil, Natalie guesses by the rich aroma.

  ‘Tuck in,’ Mary says, sitting opposite and they eat in silence for a while, spoons clinking against their bowls as Natalie shovels the hot liquid into her mouth as fast as she can.

  ‘That’s a nasty bang you’ve had there,’ Mary says, staring at the bruise that covers Natalie’s knuckles.

  The statement holds a question and Natalie slips her hand under the table, shakes her head. ‘Oh, it’s nothing. Just trapped it in the car door.’

  Mary’s stare makes her wriggle in her seat and she pushes her bowl away, eager to change the subject. ‘That was lovely, thanks. Fresh basil, makes such a difference, doesn’t it?’

  But Mary doesn’t respond and seems distracted. She stands and takes a Tupperware container off a shelf, brings it over to the table. ‘I’ve got some arnica if you want. It’ll take out the bruising.’ Bandages, plasters, safety pins, boxes of tablets line up on the table. Natalie watches, aware that precious minutes are ticking away, but unable to work out how to demand the address, when it’s the result of a favour.

  ‘Aha! Here we are.’ Mary holds up a mangled tube of ointment. ‘Still a bit left. Marvellous stuff. Just dab a bit on and rub it in.’

  Natalie takes the tube and does as she’s told, wincing as she strokes the cream onto her swollen flesh. Mary watches every move. ‘Should start to feel better in a few minutes.’ Natalie looks up and finds herself locked in a gaze that makes her scalp prickle.

  ‘Look, I know this might sound like a strange question,’ Mary says, ‘but those aren’t the clothes you were wearing this morning, are they?’

  Natalie licks her lips, feels a blush creep up her neck.

  ‘Oh no… I er… just spilt coffee on myself in town and couldn’t walk round dripping wet, so I—’

  ‘It’s just that…’ Mary leans forward. ‘Look, I don’t want you to think I’m judging but…’

  Natalie’s stomach quivers. ‘But what?’

  ‘You’re not in any trouble, are you?’

  Natalie lifts her chin, eyes wide. ‘What? No. Why would you think that?’

  Mary fiddles with her napkin before answering. ‘That dress you were wearing this morning. So pretty. But unusual. And I heard on the radio…’

  ‘Heard what?’ Natalie holds her breath.

  ‘Well, there was an incident in town. And—’ Mary frowns and starts to break a piece of bread into pieces ‘—a baby ended up in hospital.’ She looks up, straight into Natalie’s eyes. Natalie looks straight back, not even daring to swallow. ‘It was a shoplifter. They were chasing after her and a baby’s buggy got knocked over.’

  Natalie can see the scene in her mind. Like one of those mannequin posts on social media, everyone suspended in time. And in the centre of the picture, the man staring at her, accusation in his eyes.

  ‘They gave a description. And the person they’re looking for… well, she was wearing a dress like your one this morning. Blonde, like you. Thin.’

  Natalie’s feet gather under her. She looks at the back door, wide open. Blinks. Crap, crap, crap! She can’t go anywhere without Harry’s address. She feels like she’s on a high wire, fighting to keep her balance after a sudden gust of wind.

  ‘Oh, that’s terrible,’ she says, keeping her eyes on Mary. ‘But it wasn’t me.’

  Blood pulses in her ears. Shoplifter? Where’s that come from?

  ‘Apparently, the child’s uncle was a volunteer officer and nearly managed to do a citizen’s arrest on the woman when he spotted her a bit later, but she escaped before the police could get there to help him.’

  Natalie manages to keep her face still, masking the commotion in her mind. The child’s uncle? It was the uncle who’d grabbed me, not Lech, or his henchman! Her mind recalibrates, trying to undo all her false assumptions. Forget black cars, all I have to worry about is the silver estate. And that could still have been a coincidence, not following her at all.

  ‘Police are all over the place trying to find her.’ Natalie’s mouth twitches. Mary nods, her gaze steady as her words paint Natalie into a corner. ‘And they’ve put out a public appeal for information.’ She taps a piece of paper tucked under her placemat. ‘Got the number right here.’

  Natalie rubs at her injured hand, letting the pain spike through her and sharpen her mind. A thick silence settles between them.

  ‘The front door’s locked. And the back gate.’ Mary folds her arms across her chest. ‘I’ve hidden the keys. So, you’re staying here until we get to the bottom of this.’

  ‘Okay,’ Natalie says, taking a sip of water. She puts her glass down carefully and sits back in her chair. ‘I haven’t been completely honest with you.’

  ‘No,’ Mary says, popping a morsel of bread into her mouth. ‘I don’t suppose you have.’

  ‘But I’m not a shoplifter.’

  Mary chews and swallows, her stare unwavering.

  ‘So, what are you then?’

  Thirty-Four

  Then

  Life went on in prison and Natalie went with it, floating along like a log in a river, aware that at some point she would come to the end of this part of her life and arrive at something different. Something better, she told herself, because it would have Harry in it. She treated prison as a dream. Not real. Not something she wanted to get involved with. Instead, she practically lived in the library with her memories of Harry, wrapped in a dream world, a place where she was still there as his mother and she could keep him close. It seemed the only way to cope.

  It was surprising how quickly being in the house became the norm, the limits of Natalie’s life accepted and ignored. Conversations revolved around the before and the after, the now being something that everyone struggled through, day by lengthy day. Unless there was an incident. Then it was pounced on and picked to pieces, chewed over until there was nothing left to say, the subject abandoned like the bones of a dead animal when all the edible bits were gone.

  ‘So, Natalie, what are you going to do when you get out?’ Linda asked one night, when it was too early for sleep. She was a fussy woman and clucked over Natalie like a surrogate mother, always making suggestions. Every other sentence seemed to start with ‘Why don’t you…?’ and it was becoming a bit wearing, but Natalie kept telling herself it could have been worse. She could have ended up with someone like Mags. So, she usually smiled and nodded and went along with whatever the suggestion might be. ‘Mel’s doing her hairdressing and I’m learning to do accounts. Why don’t you come with me? The teacher’s ever so good.’ She laughed. ‘I mean, if me, at my age, with only half me brain cells working can understand it, then anyone can. Get you a good job after, as well.’

  Natalie choked on a laugh. Clearly, her career in wealth management and financial services was over, a criminal record making her unemployable. But she had avoided talking about her past, so the women weren’t to know.

  ‘Thanks, Linda, but I’ve tried it.’ She pulled a face. ‘Didn’t work too well.’

  The question awakened something in her though, reminded her that she needed to be prepared for life after prison. A year and a quarter isn’t that long, is it? Once she got out she was going to need a job, something that earned decent money, and that would require qualifications of some sort.

  ‘There’s loads of stuff going on,’ Linda said. ‘Why don’t you give hairdressing a go? You can always earn money if you can cut hair.’

  Mel nodded. ‘Thing is, time goes much faster if you’re doing something. Worth it just for that, isn’t it, Lin?’

  ‘It’s the truth,’ Linda said. ‘And the parole board likes to see you trying to move on, you know. Why don’t you have a look at the list, see what takes your fancy?’

  ‘Okay,’ Natalie said, staring at the ceiling, her mind already working on what she might like to do. ‘I’ll do that tomorrow. Have a think.’

  And think, she did. Now that the drugs were out of her system, her mind was less prone to wander and she wanted something to
aim for, instead of sitting around counting the minutes and hours, adding them up into days and weeks and months. She had to believe that she could support herself and Harry. That she could make a good life for them.

  It’s time to do something different, she decided. Something that was true to who she really was, not be the person who put on an act every day. Dressed in a costume, saying the right things, mixing with a load of people she didn’t even like. What she needed was something she could do as a business, on her own. Something she could train for while she was in prison.

  The next day, she found the list of courses on offer, something she’d been given and ignored weeks ago. And Linda was right, there really was loads of stuff going on. She found herself smiling while she worked down the list, an unfamiliar buzz tickling the back of her neck at the thought of learning something new. Preparing for her new life. Just me and Harry. And for the first time since she’d been in prison, it felt like something positive was happening. She grabbed the opportunity with both hands and flung herself into learning.

  She tried hairdressing with mixed results and she certainly wasn’t good enough to take it any further than the two-week taster course. Then she tried massage, and although she liked the idea of soothing other people’s pain, she found the experience of kneading the flesh of strangers distinctly unappealing. Beauty therapy was fun, like an art class really, but it seemed so irrelevant, it was hard to summon the motivation to take it seriously.

  Downhearted, she went back to the library and her daydreams, feeling a little empty inside. What if she couldn’t get a job when she got out? What would happen to her then? And how could she look after Harry?

  At the end of Natalie’s second month in the house, she spent her time trying to get away from Mel and Linda, who were constantly on at her about doing some course or another and it had got to the point where she was in danger of losing her temper. She’d tried, hadn’t she? There just didn’t seem to be anything she could do.