The Girl in the Rug

by K Leitch

  ‘Oh I’m sorry darling I didn’t see you in all that crowd,’ Maggie said to the tiny little old lady as she gave her a kiss. ‘How are you sweetheart …nice to see you back where you belong.’

  Martha always sat in pride of place like royalty, beside the bar of The Bull, ever since her grandson Duncan had taken over the running of the place. Despite her ninety something years, there was nothing she liked more than exchanging jokes and insults with the regulars in the pub and she had become a sort of celebrity in the village…people came for miles just to be insulted by her.

  ‘Sure and I haven’t seen you for an age Maggie girl,’ she said to Maggie shaking a finger at her, ‘what’s up…are ye avoiding us or something?’

  ‘Oh no of course not,’ Maggie exclaimed shaking her head. ‘Why would I possibly want to do that you silly old fool? Um I’ve just had so much on you know, what with the business and Jed’s birthday, can you believe he’ll be twenty eight, TWENTY EIGHT…bloody hell and he’s my baby so…’ she finished lamely.

  ‘Well to be sure you’ve got a lot on your plate alright…but still, I know Duncan misses you like crazy…I had thought…but then that’s just the hopes of an old woman, don’t you be minding me.’

  Maggie wished she could tell Martha why she’d been avoiding Duncan, but she didn’t want her putting any pressure on him…which there was no doubt she would do, Martha had made it very clear from the start that she saw Maggie as potential granddaughter-in-law material and she had done her damndest to make it happen.

  ‘How about I come and take you out for lunch one day next week?’ she asked Martha who had been looking a bit worried.

  The old lady’s face lit up into a mass of smiley wrinkles, ‘Oh that’ll be grand Maggie love,’ she said.

  ‘Right, well I’ll give you a ring tomorrow… remember to put your hearing aid in or you’ll miss the phone. I’ve got to get these drinks back to the girls now sweetheart…see you soon.’ Maggie kissed her goodbye and carefully carried the tray of drinks back to the little table in the corner where the other witches all had their heads together.

  ‘Oh I do know who you mean,’ Helen was saying, ‘she has the most amazing voice, I saw her in Madam Butterfly, oh many years ago, she was fabulous, had me in tears. I can’t believe that she lives so close by and I never knew.’

  ‘Who’s this?’ asked Maggie as she handed out drinks.

  ‘Louisa Boulter,’ said Tracy…Maggie looked bewildered.

  ‘She’s an opera singer…oh and she’s been in a few West End musicals as well.’

  ‘No sorry love never heard of her, but then I must admit the nearest I’ve ever been to an opera was when the W.I. put on ‘Grease’ at the village hall. Jazz has always been more my cup of tea, what about this Boulter woman anyway?’

  ‘Oh it’s just that Tracy has found out that she lives next door to her, which means that you are neighbours with her too Maggs,’ said Helen.

  ‘Oh so you’ve finally met our mystery neighbours…what are they like Tracy? I’ve seen them coming and going but I’ve never spoken to them,’ asked Maggie with renewed interest.

  ‘I’ve only met him,’ said Tracy, ‘the husband I mean…Tim, and he seems very nice. Quite dishy actually in a Hugh Grant sort of way, you know very well spoken and well to do. I haven’t met the famous Louisa yet, but I intend to do that tomorrow, now that I have some actual information for them.’

  Tracy could see Maggie looking puzzled again, ‘Tim was trying to find out who owns the big house that I can see from the end of my garden…something about some trees that are blocking out light. So I said I would dig around for him, and I actually think I’ve found out something so…’

  ‘So who does own it?’ piped up Carla,’ I’ve always thought it was derelict.’

  ‘Yes well so did I until I did a bit of digging, it seems it belongs to a company ‘Robinson’s Builders Merchants’ and that company belongs to the two sons of the original owners of the house…Mr and Mrs Robinson. The son’s are Freddy and oh Gordon I think but I may be wrong, I’ve got it written down at home.’

  ‘Blimey Trace,’ said Maggie with a smile, ‘you’ve been a bit busy…I’m assuming this Tim has worked his magic on you.’

  The girls all laughed, ‘Not at all,’ said Tracy blushing bright red, ‘I am just being a good neighbour…that’s all!’

  ‘Well don’t be too good a neighbour darling…remember you are literally only just married…give it at least three or four more years before you start spreading your favours.’

  ‘Maggie Wendover! As if I would even think…’

  ‘Oh back off Burton,’ said Maggie laughing, ‘I’m only teasing, I know you and Simon are sickeningly in love with each other…now Carla on the other hand,’ she said jokingly turning to Carla, who completely missed the joke and looked at her blankly.

  ‘Carla what…sorry?’ she said.

  ‘You are miles away tonight Carla…what’s up love?’ asked Maggie.

  ‘Oh don’t take any notice of me…it’s just work and stuff you know,’ Carla said taking a huge gulp of her drink.

  ‘Well you know you can always talk about it honey…assuming you can talk about it…if you know what I mean,’ said Helen kindly.

  Carla took her hand, ‘Oh I know love and I expect that Maya has filled you in on a bit of it.’ Helen nodded, ‘it was so upsetting for her when that poor little boy was taken into care the other day’, Carla went on, ‘but believe me he is better off. We are still in the process of interviewing the mother and she is a piece of work, drunken and abusive. I don’t know how those kids survived… well one of them didn’t, that’s the problem.’

  ‘So you think it was the mother that killed her, the girl in the rug I mean,’ asked Tracy wide eyed. The press had already dubbed Lucy as ‘The Girl in the Rug’ and the public’s interest in the case was growing as a result.

  ‘Oh god Tracy I’ve said too much…’ said Carla putting her hands over her mouth. ‘The truth is we don’t know anything for sure so don’t go spreading that tale round please. In actual fact there are some other factors that don’t quite fit with the mother’s doing it so…’

  ‘I wouldn’t say anything Carla, you know that,’ said Tracy bristling.

  Carla put her hand over Tracy’s, ‘Oh I know you wouldn’t love, it’s just that there is a little boy to think about in all this…so we can’t go and accuse his mother unless we are really sure.’

  ‘How is Andy Carla, have you heard?’ asked Helen.

  ‘No I haven’t heard anything I’m afraid…but Marshall Street has a good reputation so…’ she broke off as she remembered about the homes Ted had been looking into.

  ‘Maya was devastated to hear about little Lucy,’ Helen was saying, ‘she had actually spoken to social services a few days before she was found. Asking them to check up on the auntie’s address, but now of course she feels she should have done more.’

  ‘But what more could she have done?’ said Maggie, ‘she didn’t know the child would end up dead, how could she…’

  ‘Yes but I think it’s because of what happened to her in Poland,’ said Helen, ‘she sort of recognised the same look in those two children. She talked about them to me a few weeks ago saying she was worried about them, she even tried telling the school social worker Brenda something…but of course they didn’t take her seriously, she’s just a trainee teacher after all.’

  ‘Well she is certainly not to blame,’ said Carla firmly, ‘the blame lies fully at the door of their awful mother, and little Andy wherever he ends up is better off away from her, so tell her to stop worrying ok?’

  Just then Martha hobbled over to the table with a bottle of wine ‘on the house’.

  ‘Martha I own the bloody pub,’ laughed Maggie taking the bottle from her and then doing a comedy double take, as she noticed for the first time the amazing outfit that Martha had regaled herself in for her return to the pub. A spangled neon pink top was teamed up with a short frothy sk
irt, which was revealing a pretty good pair of legs for a ninety six year old.

  The other girls had definitely clocked it and were all bravely trying to keep a straight face, but Maggie just looked her up and down and said, ‘Wow Martha…nice knees.’

  Martha beamed with pride and chuckled, ‘Thanks Maggie…they’re me mammies.’

  At which point the girls lost the battle and fell about laughing.

  CHAPTER 22 - 1987

  He could hear someone on the landing outside his door.

  He hadn’t heard Mum come back, so it could only be Bobby.

  Bobby had stayed behind tonight when Mum had gone to the pub; he was tired he said, fancied a night in watching the telly.

  Mum had gone out anyway, she wasn’t going to let him spoil her fun she said…he must be getting old.

  Bobby had let that pass even though Franklin could see he was getting mad. His eyes would go all hard looking when he got angry, he’d noticed that before. But tonight he just smiled even though his eyes were hard.

  Mum had locked the bedroom door as usual though, she didn’t want him bothering Bobby she said.

  Franklin had been relieved; he didn’t want to spend the evening with Bobby that was for sure.

  Suddenly though, his door had opened and Bobby was in his room…pushing him onto the bed touching him where he wasn’t supposed to touch him, making him touch what he wasn’t supposed to touch.

  Bobby said if Franklin told his mum about what he had done, his mum wouldn’t believe him. But he had told her anyway…and now he could hear shouting and fists flying just as he had many times before…but this time it was his fault…

  Mum was being hurt because of something he’d done.

  Bobby doesn’t come round anymore.

  Franklin can hear his mum crying in the kitchen every night again before he goes to sleep.

  CHAPTER 23

  Andy woke to the now familiar sounds of Daniel’s radio; it had an alarm on it that woke him up at 6 o’clock every morning.

  Daniel himself was obviously in the bathroom having his shower so Andy snuggled back under his duvet, plenty of time before he had to get up.

  He’d been at Marshall Street for a couple of weeks now, and life had taken on an orderly, if somewhat boring, routine.

  During the week, breakfast, school bus, school, school bus, TV room, dinner, TV room, bed. The weekends were almost the same just without the school bit.

  Daniel still didn’t speak to him, turning his back and reading his book when they were on their own in the room…but then Daniel didn’t speak to anyone it seemed, so at least it wasn’t anything personal.

  Lilly, one of the carers who worked in the kitchen, had taken him shopping last week, so he now had new jeans and hooded tops and stuff and best of all some new trainers. Andy would take his new clothes out of his drawer every so often just to look at them…he’d never had so many new things, things just for him…that nobody else had ever worn before. He guarded them jealously, especially his new shoes.

  Once a week he had to see the child psychologist, Mike, who had long wispy grey hair that he tied back in a pony tail and tiny metal rimmed glasses that he peered at Andy through. He didn’t seem to offer any kind of advice; he just seemed to want to know what Andy was feeling all the time. Andy wanted to shout at him, how the hell did he think he was feeling, everything he had ever known had gone…been taken away from him. He been dumped here, away from his mum, his home…scared that’s how he was feeling, really, really scared. Of course he never did shout at Mike, he just nodded when required and thought about other things.

  The police had been back a few days ago, asking more questions. Did Mum know Turk? Did Turk ever tell Mum about his lock up? How was he supposed to know Andy thought, of course Mum knew Turk…everybody on ‘Buttercup’ knew Turk. This latest line of questioning made Andy really nervous though, what if Nellie found out that the police were still asking questions and came back…what if he got hold of Mum…Andy had kept his mouth firmly shut.

  He kept his head down in the house as well; some of the other children were ok…there was a girl, Shauna Williams, she was a couple of years lower than him in school, they’d started hanging out together a bit. She had reminded him of Lucy, not to look at or anything, but the way she tried not to be noticed…hanging round the edges of the room and choosing to sit the farthest away from everybody else. He found out from the other kids that her mum had died, that’s why she was at Marshall Street. So he had started talking to her and now they sort of hung out together.

  There were some nasty kids too though, but Andy had encountered these long before coming to live at Marshall Street. Andy was used to name calling…stinky Andy had long been a name directed at him so he tried to ignore it, unfortunately that in itself seemed to be a red rag to a bull for the more persistent bullies.

  One particular boy, Gavin Smee, seemed to take delight in winding Andy up and it was driving him mad that Andy wouldn’t rise to his teasing. Andy having had most of the fight knocked out of him over the last few weeks really couldn’t care less if he was being called names like weirdo and spastic. But it was all contributing to his general unhappiness. Despite his budding friendship with Shauna he felt desperately lonely and missed Lucy every day. He even missed his mum and the never ending struggle of finding food to eat, and keeping out of her way. At least she had spoken to him; even if it had been to call names at least he had had some human contact, even if it had been a slap. Here he felt invisible, he was taken care of, but nobody actually cared for him, he was important to no one.

  The house had a roster to share out household chores and on this particular evening Andy was in charge of drying dishes. He was just finishing up, drying the last of the plates and stacking them neatly on the large kitchen table, when Gavin Smee sidled into the room with two of his cronies, Hazel Finch and Thomas Dolen.

  ‘Oh it’s spastic doing the dishes…careful you don’t break one spastic,’ said Smee nastily, laughing with his friends.

  Andy ignored him and carried on putting away the china.

  ‘I heard your mum’s a murderer spastic…is that true is it…did your mum kill your sister, that’s what I heard.’

  Andy turned his back on him.

  ‘Oy…what’s up weirdo, got nothing to say? Is it right that your mum killed your little sister because she did a shit on the rug…so she bashed her brains in and then rolled her up in the shitty rug…ha ha ha what a dirty old cow…’

  Andy’s hands fisted at his sides as he turned to Smee, ‘Shut your mouth,’ he snarled quietly.

  Smee delighted to have at last got a reaction came closer, ‘And I heard she was a prossie…dirty old murdering prossie, no wonder you’re such a weirdo…’

  Andy could feel himself getting angrier and angrier, he wanted to smash the smug look right off Gavin Smee’s face, he walked towards him threateningly. ‘Shut up Gavin…just shut up and leave me alone.’

  Gavin’s cronies were taunting and laughing, making Smee all the meaner.

  ‘I bet you saw your mum getting fucked all the time didn’t you weirdo? Did she take it up the arse? I bet she did, filthy old prossie…I bet she loved it didn’t she…’

  Andy saw red, he grabbed one of the glasses that he had just dried up and smashed it on the edge of the table, and then before Gavin had time to react he took hold of the bigger boy by the hair and pushed the sharp edge of the broken glass up against his neck.

  ‘Don’t you say one more fucking word about my mum or I will cut your face up…’ he said in his most menacing voice.

  ‘Ok, ok,’ begged Smee shocked and terrified at this turn of events. Hazel Finch screamed and ran out of the kitchen and Thomas Dolen backed away looking at Andy fearfully.

  Andy pushed the glass just enough to break the skin on Gavin’s neck, a trail of blood trickled down onto his collar.

  ‘Please…No…Don’t…I’m sorry ok…’ squealed Smee and he broke into loud sobs.

 
Andy lowered his hand and pushed the boy away from him; Smee then, trying to recapture some of his bravado shouted a few obscenities at Andy as he fled the kitchen.

  ‘You should be locked up you fucking weirdo…I’ll get you back…don’t think this is over, spastic,’ he shouted as he went out, passing Lilly the cook who was just on her way in to the kitchen to see what all the screaming was about.

  ‘What’s going on in here?’ she asked Andy, hands on hips and looking at the broken glass still in Andy’s hand.

  ‘I broke a glass…sorry,’ said Andy bending to pick up the pieces from the floor.

  ‘Oh is that all…I thought all hell had broken out the way that girl was screaming. Never mind hun…here let me do that, don’t want you to cut your fingers do we, fetch me the dustpan will you, we’ll soon have this cleared up,’ Lilly said bending down to pick up the larger pieces.

  Andy went over to the broom cupboard to fetch the dustpan; it was then that he noticed Daniel. He’d been sitting reading in a chair at the far end of the kitchen behind the fridges, he must have been there all the time.

  He came over to Andy, when Lilly had finished clearing up and left them on their own again.

  ‘Fancy a game of footie on the X-box?’ Daniel asked.

  ‘Um…I don’t know,’ stammered Andy, ‘I’ve never played it before…I don’t know how.’

  ‘That’s alright; I can teach you…come on.’

  ‘Ok,’ said Andy a bit shaken, he nervously followed Daniel into the living room. Two boys were already playing on the Xbox but they relinquished it to Daniel without question when he asked, Andy noticed.

  ‘I heard what that twat Smee said to you…about your mum I mean,’ Daniel said a while later.

  ‘Yeh well, they’re wrong, it weren’t my mum that killed Lucy…I know that for a fact.’

  ‘Oh yeh…well who was it then?’ asked Daniel.

  ‘I can’t say,’ muttered Andy.

  ‘I don’t care like,’ said Daniel. ‘I’m just curious that’s all.’