Locked Up

by GB Williams

With that, his anger dispersed as quickly as it had arrived.

  ‘You need to sign this.’ Levi pushed some papers and a pen across to him.

  It was automatic to flick through, but he didn’t take any of it in. He let the papers fall, staring blankly.

  ‘If you don’t sign,’ Levi was all business, ‘the boys will be buried by the State in a pauper’s grave.’

  Oscar deserved better than that. Charlie picked up the pen and signed.

  ‘Thank you,’ Levi said, taking the papers and stuffing them in his bag, as he turned to Teddington. ‘I’ll let you know if there are any developments with the other child.’

  ‘What other child?’

  ‘Thank you, Mr Levi,’ Teddington said nothing more, as the lawyer left.

  When they were alone, she couldn’t quite meet Charlie’s eye.

  ‘Is there anything in particular you want me to arrange? Burial, but what about flowers? Any preference for the coffin? A gravestone, marker? Is there a particular religious pathway you want followed? Your file says C of E, but …’ Her voice had trailed off.

  He shook his head. ‘Whatever.’

  ‘Charlie?’ Her hand went over his on the table top.

  ‘No touching.’

  The dark voice came from behind him. He’d forgotten Sanchez was still there.

  Unable to look her in the eye, he concentrated on her hand. She drew it back. He watched as she clasped her hands together, so tight the knuckles turned white. So close. Inches that might as well be miles.

  ‘What’s that, Charlie?’

  He didn’t respond.

  ‘Charlie, what have you got in your hand?’

  He couldn’t tell her. He opened his fingers. The paper crackled, as he released the pressure. She shifted slightly. There was a pause. Perhaps she needed permission. He didn’t know, didn’t care.

  Teddington reached out and took the paper. As she opened it, her groan was pure pain. She lay it flat, smoothed her hand over the picture. It would never flatten now.

  ‘Jesus, Charlie. I am so sorry.’

  The lump in his throat stopped him responding. He should tell her it wasn’t her fault. Only, it was. He was blissful in his ignorance, until she’d brought those pictures and dragged him into hell. Because of her, he knew he’d stuffed up. Royally.

  ‘Charlie?’

  Unable to bear the sight of that picture, he closed his eyes, compressed his lips. Averted his head, from her, from Sanchez.

  ‘Charlie, I’ve been told you aren’t eating.’

  Her voice was stronger now.

  ‘You haven’t shaved, or washed, since they brought you back. Christ, you’re still in the same clothes.’

  He remained silent, trying to block the painful memories. ‘Charlie?’

  What did she expect? What response should he make?

  ‘Charlie, you have to take care of yourself.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Because,’ her voice cracked, and she had to start again, but she leaned closer, almost whispering. ‘Because I can’t bear to see that same look of hopelessness in your eyes that I saw in Oscar’s. Please. Please, don’t give up.’

  ‘You have no idea.’ When he turned to her, he was snarling. ‘All the time I’ve been in this place, I believed out there, somewhere, was something good I’d done. That I’d left a son, who could have a better life than I did, be a better man. Now, there’s nothing.’

  He glared at her, but one blink, and his vision cleared. As she stared back, her eyes wide and her lip slightly parted, he realised he wasn’t the only one lacking hope. He forced his face to relax. She didn’t deserve this. Something clicked.

  ‘What other child?’ he asked.

  She closed her eyes and looked away, he heard her swallow, saw her hands clench. She was so close. He reached out, covering both her hands with one of his.

  ‘No touching.’ This time, the warning was full of menace.

  He sat back, numbness replaced the moment of futile anger. ‘What aren’t you telling me?’

  Drawing in a steadying breath before she looked up at him, Teddington licked her lips. ‘Oscar wasn’t the only child I found.’

  He didn’t know what she’d seen or been through, but he could see the horror of it in her eyes, hear it in her tone. He didn’t understand, but some part of the man he had been was trying to kick his way back. ‘Tell me.’

  She had to swallow, to lick her lips, gather herself before she could meet his eye. ‘There was another child, another boy. This one only a couple of mo—’ her voice cracked. She had to clear her throat to finish. ‘-months old. He was already dead when I got there.’

  He stared at her. Could she really be saying what he thought she was saying? He waited for more. It didn’t come. ‘Tell me.’

  She shook her head. ‘That’s it, that’s what I found. Two children. A dead baby and a dying child.’

  It wasn’t all she’d found.

  ‘The baby …’ Again, she had to pause to force herself to say what was being said.

  This wasn’t a side of Teddington he had ever seen before. Usually, she was so calm, never fazed by anything the inmates could throw at her. She was struggling with the situation as much as he was, taking it personally. He couldn’t fathom why.

  ‘It would appear the birth was never actually registered. As far as we can tell, the baby didn’t even have a name. We don’t even know who the father is.’

  He frowned. ‘What’s Cathy say?’

  Her eyes locked with his, and he didn’t want to define the darkness he saw. He hoped to God that loathing was not for him.

  ‘Ted—?’

  ‘She’s not been found.’

  Charlie blinked, struggling to understand. ‘Pardon?’

  Carefully controlling her breathing, Teddington searched the ceiling for a script that wasn’t there. ‘The house was shut up, and the police haven’t found Cathy yet. Neighbours say her boyfriend, who they assume to be the baby’s father, was last seen about a month ago, storming out of the house, but they don’t even know his name. Apparently, it was normal behaviour for him, when he wasn’t pushing drugs. They didn’t want to know him. Cathy wasn’t exactly popular, so all the neighbours cared about was that she wasn’t causing trouble anymore. They hadn’t actually noticed she was gone.’

  Charlie didn’t know what to say. ‘I can’t believe …’

  ‘Then, don’t.’ Finally, Teddington sounded as sure and steady as she usually did. ‘We don’t know what happened. We don’t know where Cathy is. Frankly, I don’t care. I can’t see how she could come up with any reasonable explanation for what she did. I’m only sorry I didn’t do something sooner. I’ve known for a while you had a son, I should have checked –’ Again, she swallowed and looked away. ‘Maybe I could’ve –’

  ‘Don’t.’

  Charlie froze at Sanchez’s warning. Only then, did he realise he’d reached for her again. He turned his head, closed his eyes. Sanchez was just doing his job, but it was keeping Charlie from the human connection he needed. That was the true punishment of prison. Instead, he turned back to Teddington. He didn’t understand why she was taking this quite so personally, but he appreciated that she was. ‘This isn’t your fault, either. You had no reason to check. Why did you?’

  She covertly peered around the room. ‘After giving you this,’ she flattened out the twisted sheet as best she could, ‘I felt bad. Like I’d cheated you. Then, you,’ her eyes slid up to Sanchez again, ‘you helped me when …’ She couldn’t say it, and he didn’t need her to. ‘I just – I wanted …’ She had to try again. ‘I thought you deserved the truth, so I went to check on Oscar, thought I’d be able to come back and tell you he was getting on fine, happy, healthy. You know, normal.’

  Only, he wasn’t.

  ‘I have to ask,’ she said at last, ‘if I’m allowed to bury the two boys. Are you okay with them being buried together, or would you rather they be buried separately?’

  Charlie didn’t want to
even think about that. He buried his head in his hands, bunched them in his hair. Curling his fingers round, he pulled, like he wanted to yank his scalp off. It hurt, but it couldn’t compete with the demons tearing up his guts. Part of him said, ‘Crawl away, ignore the world,’ another part said, ‘Man up, and get on with it.’ ‘I can’t think straight.’ How pathetic could he get?

  ‘It’s okay.’ She was sounding like her again now. ‘I know it’s not easy. I’ll do what I can. But, you have to get through this, too.’

  Get through what? Losing his kid? She didn’t understand. She was a mother. What, what would she know about it? ‘How?’

  ‘However you can.’

  He let his eyes meet hers, watching as she flicked her gaze to Sanchez, then back to him.

  ‘For me.’

  The words were so low, he didn’t know if she said them or if he imagined it. Even if he was imagining it, he didn’t care.

  She left, and Sanchez led him back to the cell.

  ‘I didn’t know I’d hit her,’ he muttered, as he stopped in the cell.

  Force spun him, his back hit the wall, a solid iron bar pressed into his oesophagus. Sanchez’s forearm pinned him down, all but cut off his breath.

  ‘I did, you bastard. I saw you do it. And you ever raise a hand to her again, and I will beat seven shades of shit out of ya.’

  Looking at the hate in the officer’s eyes, the malice of his tone, Charlie only questioned one thing. ‘Why haven’t you?’

  Suddenly, the hate disappeared, the venom neutralised, and Sanchez’s arm moved away from Charlie’s neck. ‘Why risk my career beating you, when you’re busy beating yourself up?’

  The door slammed shut, locked. He was alone with his thoughts. He didn’t know how to get through this, but he would. For her.

  13

  Teddington had had to get up and leave. She couldn’t stand to watch a man she’d always considered strong, looking so broken and beaten. Not when it was her fault. Sort of. She left, but she couldn’t go home. She couldn’t face sitting alone in her room. She couldn’t face talking to her mother, either. Some places didn’t bear visiting.

  She passed Chris Roberts as she walked out.

  ‘You look like shit.’

  Teddington couldn’t help but smile. ‘Feel like it, too. Thanks.’

  ‘You still coming tonight?’ Roberts surprised her.

  All she could do was frown at him.

  ‘Drinks for Turner’s birthday, remember?’

  With everything else that was going on, she’d completely forgotten.

  ‘Oh, come on. It might cheer you up. After all you’ve been through, you probably need a break.’

  ‘Well, I could do with a drink.’

  It couldn’t hurt. For three days, she’d been able to think of little other than that hell she’d found poor Oscar and his brother in. It was with her every moment of every day, awake or asleep. She needed to at least try to think of something else, and a birthday celebration seemed the perfect opportunity. She’d told Charlie he had to look after himself, and she needed to take her own advice. ‘I warn you now, I might be a bit of a downer on the mood. Feel free to kick me into touch if I am, but I’ll be there.’

  Unable to face going home, Teddington headed into town. Window shopping was less gratifying than usual. There were a couple of hours to go before she met up with the guys, so she wandered. The big department store in the middle of town was always good for that. Casting only the most cursory of glances over the offerings, all the colours, the bright and the shiny, she circled the sales floors. Then, one thing caught her eye – a little white bear with a blue bow. It was in her hand before she even thought about it. Its fur was so soft.

  Her throat ached, and she blinked back tears, remembering another little bear, one with a pink ribbon. She had to have it. Oscar had to have it. She stroked the bear again, looking at the shelf. There was another stuffed animal, a small rabbit. That came, too. Even a boy with no name deserved something cute.

  She took the two tiny toys to the counter.

  An hour later, she was talking to the pathologist. As she talked, he looked over his half-moon glasses at her. His narrowed eyes, the set lips, the slight frown that could have been deep wrinkles, she wasn’t sure. The only thing Teddington knew was no matter how she put the request, his face didn’t soften. In the end, she resorted to nothing more than begging.

  ‘Please.’

  ‘It’s most irregular.’

  ‘There’s nothing regular about this case,’ Teddington pointed out. ‘Please. It won’t hurt anyone.’

  ‘It won’t help the boys.’

  ‘I know,’ Teddington admitted. It was too late for the boys, but that wasn’t the point. ‘But, it’ll help me.’

  The old man sighed, shook his head. Teddington’s heart sank further than she thought it could possibly go. His lips pursed, as he reached out a liver-spotted hand and took the rabbit and then the bear. ‘The bear for Oscar, the rabbit for the baby, right?’

  ‘Thank you.’ She struggled with the words in relief.

  ‘Hmm.’ He looked at her, head inclined. ‘Now, get out of here.’

  ‘You okay?’

  Teddington turned to look at Sanchez, as he slid onto the bench seat beside her in the Farmers Arms. ‘I’m fine.’

  He moved in close, closer than she was comfortable with. ‘You look like you’ve been crying.’

  She drew in a breath. ‘Have,’ she admitted.

  ‘Because of his kid?’ Sanchez just about avoided sneering.

  ‘Because two children died unnecessarily, and you know why that gets to me.’ She wasn’t going to admit what she’d done, tell him, or anyone, about the toys, but that had helped her.

  ‘But, why are you arranging the funeral? That’s above and beyond.’

  ‘Same reason, you know that. Besides, there’s no one else to do it. Look, Enzo, can we forget all this for tonight, and just enjoy the evening?’

  He picked up his beer and handed her her wine. ‘Okay.’ They clinked glasses and relaxed.

  Over the next half hour, the crowd grew to include Chris Roberts, Nigel Turner, and Will Norman, then Teddington was surprised to see Len Robbins. Teddington knew he liked to go for a drink after work, but she was sure he’d declined this celebration. He got a round in for the group and joined them, the additional pints and wine taking up most of the space on the table they’d gathered around. It was warm and comfortable. They embarrassed Turner with an inappropriate gift and a kiss-o-gram.

  Free flowing conversation jumped from politics to TV, to girlfriends to the state of the roads now the M20 was being dug up – again; jokes about the European Traffic Cone Mountain made Roberts laugh so hard he snorted his beer. Teddington felt a lot of the pressures and troubles of the last few days ease away, the strain between her shoulder blades releasing.

  They were all still laughing, when her gaze moved up and she saw the pub’s TV screen. The sport had been interrupted for the news, and she saw the action, as a blonde woman was escorted into a police building over the banner headline, ‘Catherine Hamilton arrested for infanticide while holidaying in France.’ So, that was Cathy. She could sort of see what Charlie might have seen in the woman. But how could someone who looked so normal have done what she had done? Who goes abroad and leaves their kids to die?

  That washed the smile away.

  ‘Not tonight.’

  She turned when Enzo whispered in her ear. She didn’t remember him putting his arm around her shoulders, or when she’d leaned into him. But, he was close and warm, and a good friend. He was right, too. She was involved, but she shouldn’t be that involved. She smiled at him. ‘Okay.’

  His kiss surprised her, but since he was the one who turned and dealt with the cat calls from the others, she just sipped her wine, and let the tension go. Her smile didn’t even falter when she spotted the odd look on Robbins’ face.

  Inevitably, as a group that had come together because they worked
together, they ended up talking about work.

  ‘Thank God Richmond’s back next week. We can get back to more normal shift patterns. Overtime’s good, but I’m knackered.’

  Teddington wasn’t sure who had said that, but as a murmur of agreement ran round the room, she looked up. ‘How’d he afford it?’

  The group looked at her like she was bonkers.

  ‘No, really,’ she said. ‘A couple of months ago, his wife couldn’t afford to replace holed shoes, so how did he suddenly afford the kind of holiday I can only dream of?’

  ‘Maybe one of his horses came in,’ Robbins offered. ‘Not really our business.’

  ‘He’s got family all over, maybe one of them paid.’

  ‘Anybody else think the Wing’s gotten more subdued lately?’ Norman asked.

  ‘Hardly surprising,’ Robbins suggested, ‘given what’s been happening.’

  ‘Yeah,’ Norman agreed, still frowning. ‘Only, it started before Tommy. It was getting quieter then, too.’

  ‘Quieter, yeah,’ Teddington agreed, thinking about it now, ‘but not calmer. It was like the place was holding its breath. Tense, waiting for something to happen.’

  ‘Well, something did happen,’ Roberts agreed. ‘Tommy topped himself.’

  ‘No, he didn’t.’ Teddington hadn’t meant to say that out loud, but the men all turned to her, some pints suspended by their surprise.

  ‘It was suicide,’ Robbins stated.

  Teddington shook her head. ‘Can’t be. If he’d killed himself, where’s the thing he cut his guts open with? If he’d been going for hari-kari, the weapon would have been with him – it wasn’t. Someone took it; that means murder.’

  ‘That’s for the police to worry about,’ Sanchez spoke too brightly.

  Teddington felt the tightening of his grip. He was warning her off. Why?

  ‘Anyone heard how Dyer’s doing?’

  Teddington felt Sanchez try to head the conversation elsewhere; she raised her hand and slapped him lightly on the chest, stopping him in his tracks.

  ‘Dyer’s doing okay,’ she offered. ‘I dropped in to see him this afternoon. He’s still sore, and the cut’s going to take a while to heal. It’ll leave a scar, but he’ll be fine. Physically. Not sure he’ll ever be the same though.’