Keep You Safe

by Rona Halsall

Wish me luck, little munchkin.

  ‘Are you ready?’ Mali poked her head round the door, her face looking drawn, shadows under her eyes, like she hadn’t slept too well.

  ‘Just finishing this off, won’t be a sec.’ She signed the letter ‘Mummy’ and added hugs and kisses along the bottom of the page.

  ‘We can’t be late or they won’t let us do the exam and then it’ll all be for nothing.’

  ‘Don’t be daft, they can’t start without us. There’s only you and me doing it. It’s not like GCSEs, you know.’ Natalie checked her watch. ‘Anyway, there’s plenty of time. It doesn’t take half an hour to get to the gym, does it?’

  She tucked her writing pad in her locker and flipped her thoughts to the exam, her mind crammed to overflowing with acronyms and medical conditions, Latin names for muscles and bones. Please let me have done enough. Her lips moved in a silent prayer, asking for help to remember as she slipped her feet into her trainers, hands shaking so much she could hardly tie the laces.

  ‘Okay,’ she stood up and stretched to ease out her back muscles, ‘let’s go then.’

  The names of body parts streamed through her head as she followed Mali down the hall and she’d managed to work her way up from the feet to the lower back when she felt a tap on her shoulder. She tensed and spun round. A knot tightened at the back of her neck when she saw that it was Beryl, the prison officer.

  Beryl never had good news. She was doing a stint on the Wing now and if she turned up, it was always with a warning. Something to do with Katya. Or Mags. The leaders of two warring factions within the prison, who both thought Natalie had access to over a million pounds and wanted a slice. But since Mags had been stuck on the Wing and Katya was still in the Unit, they often sent little messages via other women. Reminders. And Beryl would warn Natalie when someone difficult might be heading her way.

  The idea of danger was a constant companion, sitting alert at the back of her mind. She watched and avoided, never allowed herself to be on her own with anyone, and attended the twice-weekly self-defence classes like a true disciple. Mali’s crew had become her crew and they kept each other safe. So, on the whole, apart from a couple of skirmishes, life had been manageable.

  Thankfully, Katya had remained in solitary confinement, regular reviews deeming her too unstable to mingle with other prisoners and Mags had been released two months ago. Since then, the choppy seas of prison life had taken on a new calm and Beryl hadn’t pulled Natalie aside for several weeks.

  ‘Just wanted to give you a heads up,’ Beryl said, quietly.

  ‘I’ve got an exam.’ Natalie’s mouth twitched as she watched Mali disappear down the stairs. ‘I’ll catch you up,’ she called and turned back to Beryl, frowning.

  Unusually, Beryl had a broad grin on her face. ‘Good news for you, love. Katya’s being transferred to Rampton.’

  ‘Rampton?’

  ‘Secure psychiatric hospital.’ Beryl laughed. ‘She got her lawyer to make a fuss about being in solitary for so long. Said it was against her human rights. So the Governor pulled a blinder and got her admitted to Rampton. She’s off today sometime.’

  Natalie’s eyes widened. ‘What? Really?’

  Beryl grinned. ‘Good news, eh?’

  Natalie leant against the wall, her legs suddenly weak. ‘Wow, that’s just… it’s…’ She started to giggle.

  ‘I know,’ Beryl said. ‘Exactly how we all feel about it. Anyway, don’t want to keep you. Thought you’d want to know.’

  Footsteps thundered up the stairs and Mali emerged, glowering. ‘Natalie, what the fuck! We’re going to be late.’ She stopped and stared, eyes sliding from Beryl to Natalie and back again.

  ‘Thanks,’ Natalie said, her throat clogged with delight. ‘You’ve made my day.’

  ‘Made mine too.’ Beryl laughed and made a shooing motion with her arms. ‘Go on then, off you go.’

  Natalie raised her eyebrows at Mali and hurried her down the stairs.

  ‘So, what the fuck was that about?’ Mali murmured.

  ‘Good news. Tell you later,’ Natalie said as they were met by another prison officer in the hall, ready to escort them to the gym.

  The gym was housed in a Victorian red-brick structure with concrete columns holding up an entrance portico. An inscription, ‘Ludis Pro Omes’, roughly translated as ‘Sport for All’ was carved in the stonework. Imposing double doors led into a square entrance hall and three doors led off this into the changing rooms, an office and the gym itself. The gym reminded Natalie of the assembly hall at her old school and was one large room, with a wooden floor marked out for different sports, and a raised stage at one end, which was sectioned off for gym equipment such as treadmills and loose weights.

  ‘Okay, here we are then,’ the prison officer said as she unlocked the door. She looked at them both and laughed. ‘Don’t look so worried, girls, I’m sure you’ll be fine. The less you worry, the more you’ll remember. That’s what I’ve always found. And anyway, if you cock it up, it’s not the end of the world, is it? You can always have another go.’

  ‘We’re going to do this, aren’t we?’ Mali said, voice wavering.

  ‘Hell, yeah.’ Natalie pushed Mali into the hallway, the door locking behind them. ‘No stopping us now.’

  But there was something stopping them.

  A figure blocked their way, a sly smile on her face.

  Natalie stared and wondered if she was seeing things. Mali grabbed Natalie’s hand, tremors transmitting themselves from Mali’s body all the way up Natalie’s arm. She swallowed and remembered all the stories she’d heard over the last year. A level of brutality that she hadn’t wanted to believe, but had been forced to accept was true.

  It had been a long time since she’d seen her, and she looked thinner round the face, but she’d never forget those eyes. Such a dark brown they were almost black, and they were looking at Mali now, like a hawk latched on to its prey.

  ‘Hello, girls,’ Katya drawled. ‘I’ve been waiting for you.’

  Thirty-Eight

  Now

  The sound of Tom’s voice, familiar and unexpected, vibrates through Natalie’s mind, setting off an avalanche of emotions. Her scalp feels tight, as though her skin has shrunk. Her teeth grind together.

  ‘How did you get my number?’ Her voice is low, accusing.

  ‘My secretary gave it to me, said you’d rung a couple of times. Told her that it was a personal matter.’ He gives a mirthless laugh. ‘Then somebody said they thought they’d seen you on the island. I put two and two together, worked out it was you.’

  I’ve been seen?

  Her mind searches through the possibilities and she realises that it could be any number of people. People she’s met on previous visits, people who work in Douglas. Or was Tom at the gig and she hadn’t seen him? A weight settles in her stomach. Maybe she hasn’t been as covert as she’d thought.

  She can hear the quickness of his breath in her ear. Is he nervous? Worried, maybe? Seagulls screech in the background. He’s outside? She looks out of the bedroom window, scans the promenade but can’t see him or the silver estate.

  ‘So… um, how can I help you?’ She tries to make her voice sound curious, light, as if her trip to the island is of no consequence to him. She cringes. Even to her ears it sounds ridiculous.

  ‘Oh, Natalie.’ His voice is soft, wheedling its way into her mind, triggering memories of love and gentleness. It’s not real, she tells herself, a sour taste in her mouth. Don’t let him fool you. It was never real. He sighs. ‘Let’s not play games, Natalie. I know why you’re here. Doesn’t take a genius to work it out.’ He sounds tired and she wonders if this could be an opportunity rather than a disaster.

  ‘Are you okay, Tom? You sound a little… stressed.’

  ‘Ha!’ He starts to cough and it’s a moment before he comes back on the line. ‘Look, Natalie. I’ll be straight with you. I can’t cope with any more complications.’ His voice cracks. ‘Not at the moment.’r />
  He sounds weaker than she’d imagined and she remembers what Jack had said about his marriage breakdown. Her hand tightens round the phone. She takes a breath and extracts the fury from her voice. ‘I just want to see Harry. Please, Tom. I don’t want any trouble. I just want to see him.’ She sounds pathetic and feeble, no threat to anyone. But it goes against every grain of her being to have to beg to see her own son, the child she grew inside her, gave birth to and nurtured until he was stolen. Her body shakes with the effort of pretence.

  ‘Natalie, look, I just want to say…’ He gives another sigh. ‘I’m sorry about… you know… about everything.’

  She sucks in air.

  Did he just apologise?

  For a moment, she’s floating, like a balloon that’s been left to drift into the sky. Sorry? Like I’ve lost a fiver on a bet? She closes her eyes and puts a hand to her throat, strangling the urge to let three years’ worth of anguish blast across the airwaves. He has no idea, not an inkling of the pain he’s put her through. And now he thinks saying sorry will mend the cracks in her heart, fill the holes in her memory, where her son’s childhood should be? She smacks the wall behind her with her fist.

  ‘It wasn’t… I didn’t think…’ Sadness drips from his voice and she can almost see his eyes, moist with tears. She hears him clear his throat before he comes back on the line. ‘Natalie, please believe me when I say I never imagined things would play out the way they did. Honestly, I didn’t. And if I could have my life again, I’d do things differently.’

  The sincerity in his voice is a surprise and her mind picks at the possibilities. Can I talk him into a meeting? Choose a place where I have a chance to get away without anyone seeing. Worth a try, she decides. Her pulse quickens.

  ‘Let me see Harry, then.’ Her voice quivers. ‘Please, Tom, let me see him.’

  ‘No. I’m afraid that won’t be possible.’ He’s regained his composure now, his voice clipped and resolute. ‘Look, you need to leave the island, Natalie. My solicitor told me that the conditions of your parole mean you shouldn’t be here. My next call is to the police, then you’ll be back in prison. Is that what you want?’

  Her body tenses from head to toe. I knew it! I knew that’s what he’d do.

  ‘And anyway, you’re too late.’

  ‘Too late? What do you mean?’

  ‘We’ll be gone tomorrow, so there’s no point you being here.’

  ‘Gone?’ Her voice rises to a squeak. ‘Gone where?’

  ‘Somewhere you can’t reach us.’

  ‘I’ll always reach you.’ The threat is clear and she knows it to be true, knows she’ll go anywhere, do anything to get her son back in her life.

  ‘Not on Dad’s estate, you won’t.’

  Which estate? she wonders, knowing that there are at least three.

  ‘Dad’s ready for retirement and I’m taking over the running of his business. I wasn’t going to leave quite this soon, but…’ He sighs. ‘Life takes turns you don’t anticipate.’

  Kuwait. They’re going to Kuwait. That’s where his father’s business has its headquarters and she thinks of the tight security around his father’s compound, in a land that ensures women abide by a different set of rules. She sinks onto the bed, rocking backwards and forwards, arms hugging her body. If I don’t get Harry today, I may never see him again. Her head seems to swell with the thought, as if it might explode.

  ‘No! Tom, you can’t!’

  ‘I don’t think you can stop me, Natalie.’

  A sob fills her throat so she struggles to speak. ‘Haven’t you put me through enough already?’

  The silence is long enough for her to rock her emotions into submission and she starts to wonder if he’s still there. She grits her teeth. He hasn’t left the island yet, she reminds herself, there’s still time.

  When Tom speaks again, his voice is more gentle, weary. ‘I know it’s been tough for you, Natalie. But you’ve got to understand that Harry’s… well, he’s not your son anymore. That’s the reality. He doesn’t know who you are. Doesn’t even know you exist.’ His words pierce her heart, draining the blood from her face. ‘You don’t need to worry about him, though. He’s happy. A real daddy’s boy, as it turns out. It’s probably…’ He lets out a long breath. ‘Look, it’s probably best if you just forget about him. Make a new start. You’re still young enough, aren’t you? Just forget and move on.’

  Forget? Natalie’s head rattles with rage. How are you supposed to forget that you have a son, for Christ’s sake?

  ‘I’m sorry, Natalie. Believe me. I am.’

  ‘But you didn’t even want him!’

  ‘Things change. You of all people must know that. We spend a lot of time together, me and Harry. I love him more than life, Natalie.’ He sounds like his teeth are clenched together. ‘More than bloody life. And his happiness is why I’m leaving. It’s all about him. Everything.’

  Natalie lets out a silent scream. Tom has just articulated her own feelings in relation to Harry and in doing that, he’s taken something from her, stolen an element of her confidence that what she’s doing is right. If Tom’s going tomorrow, then maybe Harry will be safe with him. Maybe it’s the best thing. Lech won’t be able to get him in Kuwait. In a couple of years she’ll be completely free to go where she wants. She can visit.

  But I’ll be even more of a stranger.

  It’s not something she can contemplate. And anyway, how can Tom keep him safe when he won’t acknowledge the threat from Lech?

  Maybe he’ll listen now. But she knows in her heart that he won’t. When Tom’s made his mind up about something there’s no persuading him. And it’s a long time between now and tomorrow, time enough for Lech to grab Harry. He’ll be safer with me, she decides.

  Her fist goes to her temples as she tries to compose herself for one last effort at persuasion. ‘Just let me see him, Tom. Just see him, nothing else. I just… I want to know what he looks like. Don’t you think I deserve to know that? What my own son looks like?’

  Tom’s breath crackles down the phone. Natalie waits, eyes squeezed shut, willing him to agree.

  ‘I’m in the skatepark.’

  Her heart skitters. ‘Skatepark? Which skatepark? Where?’

  ‘Peel. End of the promenade. If you can be here in fifteen minutes, you can see him. From a distance. Try to get close and we’re out of there, you understand?’

  Thirty-Nine

  Now

  All Natalie can hear is silence. Tom has gone.

  She can’t begin to think this through, the urge to see Harry stronger than the need to breathe. Tom doesn’t usually get upset, and he’s as fragile and vulnerable as he’s ever going to be. So maybe I can persuade him to give me and Harry a bit of time together?

  She dashes downstairs, out of the front door, and turns right along the promenade towards a small headland, knowing this must be the right direction because she went the other way this morning and definitely didn’t pass a skatepark. A few minutes later, she reaches a substantial Victorian terrace of red sandstone properties. Where these end, there’s a sandstone wall, hiding a bowling green that can be glimpsed through a round opening, like the doorway to a hobbit home. At the end of the wall, three feet above the pavement, there’s a mesh fence, enclosing a couple of tennis courts and then, metal railings surround the skatepark.

  Natalie holds her breath as she slows and creeps along the pavement, like a wildlife enthusiast sneaking up on a rare animal. She crouches down and peeps through the railings, can see a half-pipe and a couple of curved ramps, then a smaller ramp, with flat, gentle slopes and on the other side of that is a large area of tarmac, the remnants of a basketball pitch, a couple of rusted hoops still in place.

  A small boy, looking unsteady on a shiny Spiderman scooter is riding around, nobody else in sight. And there’s Tom, sitting on a set of steps that run up to a path on a higher level, which leads to the top of the headland. The boy has to be Harry. Her heart clenches and releases
as if it has forgotten how to pump blood round her body. She tries to breathe, but no air goes into her lungs. Harry. The moment she has longed for is here and now it doesn’t seem real, feels like she’s watching a movie, distanced from the action by a screen of disbelief.

  ‘Watch me, Daddy!’ Harry’s voice is shrill with excitement, as he perches on top of the lowest ramp, waiting for Tom to turn and look. ‘Watch me!’ But Tom is on the phone, staring towards the horizon, having a heated conversation and Harry can’t wait.

  Natalie ducks down, so Tom can’t see her, but she can see her son. Tears sting her eyes and she blinks to clear her blurry vision as Harry zooms down the ramp and hurtles towards her, making motorbike noises. Her heart lurches as she drinks in every feature of his face. A face that looks nothing like her composite picture, the one she has adjusted like a fine oil painting over the last three years.

  There’s no mistaking that he’s her son, though. Her breath falters as he comes closer. At first glance, he appeared to be a mini Tom, his face a genetic copy of his father’s, his hair short and blond, slightly wavy on the top where it has been left a bit longer, but as he gets closer, she can see that his mouth is more generous, like hers, his eyes a little further apart. And the closer he comes, the more she can see herself in him, in his expressions.

  He’s perfect. My little boy.

  She stands up, like a jack-in-the-box and he stop a few yards away, staring with big round eyes. For a moment, she has no idea what to say, has no clue how to speak to a child who has just turned four, having little experience to draw on. Then she remembers all the children’s programmes she’s watched in prison, can hear the presenters talking, all over-jolly, smiley and wide-eyed and she copies them, focusing on the only thing that she knows for sure about this little boy.

  ‘Hello, Harry!’ She gives him her broadest smile and looks into familiar hazel eyes. Her eyes. She has to take a moment to compose herself before she can speak again, emotion filling her throat. ‘Is that a new scooter? Did you get if for your birthday?’