by Rona Halsall
Harry carries on staring, but now there’s a frown on his tanned face, his mouth pressed into a thin line. She studies him, heart hammering in her chest, waiting for that moment, the one she has fantasised about, when he realises who she is and his face breaks into an ecstatic grin and he runs to her, desperate to be in her arms. But there’s not a hint of recognition, not even a flicker. She feels weak, dizzy, her dreams of their reunion shrivelling inside her until they are nothing but dust. For a moment, she can’t think, can’t move, unable to believe that he doesn’t know who she is. He’s too far away, she tells herself, separated as they are by the railings.
Inside him there’ll be a knowledge of me, she reassures herself, some primitive recognition of familiar pheromones, the sound of her voice, the feel of her hand, the smell of her. If I can just pull him closer, get him into conversation, maybe get to touch him, hug him, then he’ll start to remember. Her throat is tight, her breathing shallow and she can feel her chin wobbling. No, no, no, she reprimands herself. No crying. Keep it cool.
She broadens her smile but Harry is losing interest in her and starts to shuffle his scooter round, ready to head off.
‘That was so clever, Harry. Can you do any other tricks?’
He looks back at her and nods.
‘Do you want to show me?’
He does another circuit, heading towards her and skidding to a halt just before he hits the railings, his face a picture of concentration that makes her heart feel it might burst.
She laughs and Harry gives her a little smile. That’s for me, she thinks, that smile is just for me, and it’s the best, most precious gift she has ever been given.
‘High five,’ she says, holding her hand up between the railings. He is just feet away from her now. But it’s still too far.
Harry looks at her for a moment, then leans forwards and his little hand glances against hers, just for a second. She wants to hold it, feel the softness of his skin, the smallness of his fingers, the warmth of his flesh. This child’s body, made from her own. She stares into his eyes, sure that now they have touched he will know who she is, but there is nothing and her heart is crushed.
‘I’m Natalie,’ she says, with a grin that could easily turn into a sob. It feels horrible, not being able to tell him she’s his mummy, but she can’t risk confusion and doesn’t want to frighten him away. Later, I can tell him, she thinks, but what she needs to do now is get him to think of her as a friend.
She glances over at Tom, startled to find he is standing now and staring at her. Their eyes meet, her heart beats faster.
‘Harry! Harry! Come back here.’ Tom’s voice is stern. ‘What did I tell you about talking to strangers?’
Natalie’s hopes tumble inside her, crashing to the ground as Harry runs to his father, who picks him up.
Harry looks over his shoulder at her, bottom lip poking out as if he’s about to cry.
‘But you weren’t watching,’ he says, in the pouty little voice that children use when they believe life is being unfair to them. ‘And I did a really good trick, and the lady said it was so good. And asked me to do another one.’
Tom glares at her. She can’t move. He storms over to the fence, puts Harry down and points to the scooter. ‘Pick that up,’ he says to Harry, who obeys. Tom leans down and gives his son a quick hug and a kiss on the top of his head, his voice gentle now. ‘You go and play over there—’ he points to the tarmac area ‘—while I have a chat with the lady.’ He says ‘lady’ with a thick coating of distaste. Harry does as he’s told, and pushes himself along, motorbike sounds revving again, the whole incident forgotten, along with Natalie.
She closes her eyes, battling to keep her composure and when she blinks them open, Tom’s crouching down, clutching the railings, his face level with hers.
‘Nice try, Natalie. Well, you’ve got what you wanted. You’ve seen him.’ He gets his phone out of his pocket. ‘Now leave before I call the police.’
She doesn’t move, staring at Harry, telling him in her mind how much she loves him, her heart shredded by his indifference. Tom starts to dial. Natalie jolts to attention. Panic scatters her thoughts. She turns and runs.
Forty
Then
The hallway of the prison gym felt suddenly cold. ‘Katya,’ Natalie said, trying to keep her voice steady. ‘What are you doing here?’ Didn’t Beryl say she was being transferred to Rampton today?
She looked over Katya’s shoulder, eyes searching for Fran, the woman who’d been teaching them, but the gym doors were open and the room was empty. That was odd. She should have been here by now, was always here before them. And where was Kirsty, the prison officer who managed the gym? This feels all wrong, Natalie thought. Hairs prickled on the back of her neck.
The three of them stood in silence, like mime artists in a tableau. Natalie waited for Katya to answer her question, senses alert, listening for sounds that would tell her that everything was normal. But all she could hear were her own shallow breaths. She noticed that Katya’s gaze was focused on Mali, whose face had gone pale, a sheen of sweat visible on her forehead. She grabbed Natalie’s hand, like a child reaching for its mother.
‘Come on, ladies, let’s have a little chat in here, shall we?’ Katya said as she pushed open the changing-room doors. A false smile spread across her face, like an advert for toothpaste. Natalie could feel Mali’s hand slipping from her own. She clasped it harder.
Mali moved backwards a step, then another, pulling Natalie with her. Can we call the prison officer? Natalie wondered. She’d only just gone and couldn’t be far away. Then Mali bumped into the door and Natalie heard the lock rattle in its housing, a solid, final sort of a sound. A quick glance over her shoulder reminded her how thick and heavy the doors were. She swallowed. Nobody was going to hear them through those.
Mali whimpered. Katya had an amused gleam in her eyes, like a cat playing with its prey. We’re trapped, thought Natalie, her heartbeat slow and heavy like the drumbeat that signals doom in a horror film.
‘Jackie!’ Katya called. ‘Come out here, there’s a good girl.’ She sounded like she was calling a dog and they turned to see a woman standing in the doorway to the office. Big and square, she almost filled the opening. Her head was shaved, tattoos covering most of her scalp and down her neck. Her arms were as thick as Natalie’s thighs, ending in meaty hands. She looked more like a man than a woman, her features prominent and heavy. Jackie smiled at them, an empty grin, her eyes just slits in the fat of her face. There was something about her expression that didn’t look quite right, but there was no doubting her role in this scenario: she was Katya’s enforcer.
Mali kicked the door, a donkey kick, as hard as she could, and started yelling for help, her fear transmitting itself to Natalie with every shake of her body. Katya laughed and Jackie joined in, the sound of her laugh high-pitched and ridiculous, like a hyena. Natalie felt sick. There was nowhere to hide, nowhere to run, nobody to help. They were on their own and Mali had turned from leader of the gang into a gibbering wreck.
It’s up to me. Natalie’s heart clenched. I’m going to have to get us out of this.
She thought back to her schooldays, before she’d met Sasha, when she’d won as many fights as she’d lost and had learned to look after herself out of necessity. Hanging out with Sasha had stopped the bullying and somewhere along the line, she’d forgotten how to be herself. She had allowed herself to live in the shadow of others, relying on them for her safety.
Until now.
Now there was nobody to hide behind.
Do not let fear dull your reactions. Isn’t that what their self-defence instructor had taught them in their very first lesson? Be the master not the victim.
Natalie squared her shoulders and took a couple of calming breaths.
‘What the hell’s going on?’ she said, keeping her voice light, thinking there might be a chance to talk their way out of trouble. ‘We’ve got an exam in ten minutes. Can this wait till we’ve
finished?’
‘Just chill, Nat, you’re safe,’ Katya said. ‘It’s Mali here that I need to have a chat with. But you can come too if that’ll make her feel better.’ She stared at Mali, hate in her eyes.
Natalie frowned. Did she mean it? Am I really safe? A voice in her head told her she wasn’t, Beryl’s warning running on a loop in her mind. These people are not your friends.
‘I’ve not done nothin’,’ Mali said and wedged her body behind Natalie’s, using her as a shield. Her hands pressed against Natalie’s back, her breath hot against her neck.
Natalie scanned the hallway, remembering the CCTV camera. Surely someone would be watching and would see what was happening. She looked up at the ceiling, her throat tightening when she saw that the camera lens had been broken. But there had to be a prison officer somewhere in the building. Maybe she’d popped to the loo or something, would be back any minute. So, if they just waited…
The silence ticked on for a few long moments until Jackie moved out of the shadows of the doorway and crunched her knuckles, like they do in films when they’re getting ready for a fight. That was when Natalie saw the smudge on the front of Jackie’s white T-shirt. A blood-red smudge. Her chest tightened as the last vestiges of hope were wiped from her mind, allowing her to see their situation with startling clarity. She had to assume the guard was out of action. Their exam was supposed to be an hour long, so the prison officer wouldn’t be back for them before then. So, at least an hour until somebody turned up.
A lot can happen in an hour.
A chill crept through her like an invasive species, colonising her mind with premonitions of disaster. She took a deeper breath, and another. There’s no way I’m getting hurt, she thought, pushing her panic down deep inside. I’ve got to get through this for Harry. Play along, she told herself. It might be a storm in a teacup. Might be nothing.
‘Okay, so here’s what we’re going to do,’ Katya said, as if she was talking to a couple of five year olds, her voice full of forced merriment. ‘We’re all going into the changing rooms.’ Her eyes narrowed. ‘Any problems, then Jackie will sort them out. Okay, ladies?’ She clapped her hands together. ‘Come on! We haven’t got all day.’
Forty-One
Now
Natalie runs back to Mary’s house and dashes up to her bedroom, every nerve in her body on fire with the need to do something. Tom’s ringing the police. How long until they arrive? Her hands grab at hair that is no longer there, tugging at the roots. What to do? What to do? The main thing, she decides, is not to panic. She takes a big breath, lets it out slowly and picks up her phone. One last try at contacting Sasha, then she has to go. She listens to it ringing, not expecting a response, waiting to leave a message.
‘Nat? That you?’
She jolts upright. ‘Sasha! At last.’ Natalie paces the floor. She can hear talking in the background, music of some kind and wonders if Sasha’s on set. Then she hears a door close and the music disappears.
‘Christ, Nat, what’s the matter?’
‘I’ve just spoken to Tom.’ Natalie hears a sharp intake of breath.
‘Oh well that’s great you’ve made contact. How did—’
‘He rang me. Doesn’t matter. But Sash, the thing is…’ She has to stop and steady herself. ‘The thing is, he’s taking Harry away.’
‘No, he isn’t.’ Sasha sounds dismissive and Natalie wonders if she’s doing her usual multi-tasking and not actually listening.
‘Yes, yes he is. Tomorrow. I’ve got to get Harry today, Sash, or it’s all over.’ Natalie’s voice gallops along at an ever-higher pitch. ‘I’ll never get him back. And then, Mary—’
‘Calm down, will you?’ Sasha interrupts, all stern. ‘Just calm down. You’re not making sense. Where’s he going to be heading off to when his business is here? He’s probably lying. Have you thought of that? To get you off his back?’
‘For Christ’s sake, Sasha! Can’t you just listen? He’s going to Kuwait, to take over his dad’s business. And he’s taking Harry with him.’
‘Kuwait?’
‘That’s what he said. And you know what his dad’s estate is like. I told you, didn’t I? It’s like Fort Knox, with electric fences and security guards, CCTV cameras all over the place.’
‘That’s what he told you? He’s taking Harry to Kuwait?’
‘Yes. Yes. Tomorrow. And he’s going to call the police, get them to arrest me. And they’re already looking for me. I’ve only got until—’
‘Okay, okay,’ Sasha says, a heavy sigh in her voice. ‘Look, let’s not panic. Let’s just… think about this for a minute. Tomorrow, you said? So, there’s still plenty of time for us to get Harry today, isn’t there?’ Another sigh crackles down the phone. ‘Just give me a sec…’
Natalie paces and waits, her eyes focused on the view out of the window. The tide is in and a gentle wave breaks in a lazy arc on the thin line of sand. A few people are strolling on the prom. Cars trundle to and fro beneath her window. It all seems ridiculously normal, another world, while Natalie’s life spirals out of control. She clutches the phone tighter.
‘Sash, you still there?’
‘Yep. Still here. Just thinking. Right, so I’m going to have to work out how to reschedule this evening. That’s the first thing. But don’t you worry about that.’ She huffs down the phone. ‘Honestly, I really don’t care about this bloody job anymore. Getting Harry back is much more important. And after what Tom’s done to you, there’s no way we’re going to let that bastard run off to Kuwait, is there?’
Natalie stops pacing and leans against the wall. She can feel that Sasha is committed to the challenge now, can hear the determination in her voice. And once Sasha puts her mind to something, she’s a force to be reckoned with. Natalie closes her eyes and takes a deep breath. Thank God. Her mind stops scuttling in circles, as she focuses on Sasha’s voice.
‘Look, as soon as I’ve sorted things at this end, I’ll come and get you, okay? Nobody’s looking for me, so that’s going to be the safest thing. And we’ll go and get Harry together. Tom’s no match for the two of us, is he? The thing is not to panic. I’m sure the police are busy with real criminals. They’re not going to be interested in chasing you, are they? It’s not like you’re a bloody murderer on the loose. They’ll just contact your probation officer, hand it over to them to sort out.’
She sounds so sure of herself that Natalie doesn’t contradict her. Doesn’t try and tell her about the incident with the buggy, or the fact that the police seem to think she’s a shoplifter, or that she has until eight o’clock tonight. Her breath steadies. Together we’ll think of something. In the past, whatever scrape she and Sasha were in, they’d always got out of it, hadn’t they? She hears the bang of a door down the phone, muffled voices in the background.
‘Look, I’ve gotta go,’ Sasha says, talking so quickly Natalie struggles to work out what she’s saying. ‘I’ll call you later, a couple of hours max. Probably sooner. Give me time to finish up here, sort things my end, then I’ll be with you. I promise. Just stay put and don’t… don’t do anything stupid.’
Natalie smacks her forehead with the heel of her hand as Sasha disappears again. I can’t wait a couple of hours, can I? Natalie springs up off the bed.
‘I’m off now, lovey,’ Mary calls up the stairs. ‘Good luck. And you take care, now.’
The front door clicks shut and Natalie watches Mary cross the road and walk along the prom. Past a silver car. Her eyes widen and she takes a closer look.
Isn’t that the car that was following me? Her heart jumps. Her mind tells her to run. It’s got to be Lech, hasn’t it? Or is it Tom? Did he follow me back here and now he’s waiting to show the police where I am? Either way, she can’t stay here.
The back door’s going to be her best escape route, through the alley and up the road to the car park. Adrenaline spikes in her bloodstream as she throws the rest of her stuff into her holdall, eyes glancing round the room to check that she�
�s got everything.
She zips up her bag and runs along the hallway and down the stairs. But she forgets that the carpet is loose on the fourth step and her foot shoots out from under her. Suddenly, she’s falling through the air, arms flailing as she tries to grasp hold of the banister but she misses and her arm goes through the railings. Her shoulder is trapped as her body continues its downwards momentum.
Muscles rip, ligaments snap, tendons twist and wrench from their moorings with a searing pain that burns through her body. She screams as she tumbles and bumps her way to the bottom of the stairs, landing upside down, her body crumpled on top of her right arm. Her head spins, black dots fill her vision and for a moment, she is no longer there, no longer anywhere.
A loud knock on the front door makes her eyes ping open and she remembers. The silver car. Outside. Police on their way.
The handle turns and the front door rattles as someone tries to get in.
Get up! Get up! she shouts in her head, but when she tries to move, pain scorches through her, blasting its way through damaged nerve endings. She retches onto the carpet, vomit trickling down her cheek and into her ear, burning the back of her throat.
The door handle stops moving.
She can scarcely breathe. Did he hear me?
There’s still time to escape if she can only get herself off the floor. She tries to move again, slower this time, but her body has stiffened, mutated like molten lava when it reaches the sea, and she knows it’s not going to happen.
Sweat breaks out on her forehead.
The letter box clatters open and a pair of eyes peer through.
Brown eyes.
It can’t be Tom. Lech’s found me.
Forty-Two
