Broken Dolls

by Sarah Flint

  ‘Did you hear this from anyone in particular, and do you think they’d be willing to be a witness?’

  ‘One of the girls saw ’im pick Redz up. I’m not namin’ names ’cause she’d never want to stand up in court and she wouldn’t be ’appy at bein’ asked neither.’

  ‘OK, mate. I’ll pass it on, but keep an ear out and if you find out his details or the car he drives, or anything else, come straight back to me.’

  ‘Will do, Angie. I got more good stuff too, but I’m still workin’ on it. I’ll bell you in the mornin’ about it.’

  She smiled to herself and ended the call. While waiting together in the interview room for their statements to be taken, Ayeisha had told her all about her evening’s activities, culminating in the discovery of Dutch. Her friend had seemed different though, quiet and depressed. Perhaps seeing Dutch dead had affected her, but the conversation had been interesting, and exactly what Angie was after. It would need an update though before she passed it on, and to that end she’d have to wait for Ayeisha’s phone call in the morning.

  She put the phone away and thought about her new job. She was happy to go to court officially for Razor, as his alibi, but if she could earn some cash for them both by pointing police towards The Punter, then even better. Angie was doing a great job getting her a few quid for her information these days and even Charlie Stafford was proving to be a useful ally, steering her through the legal procedures involved in composing her statements. She couldn’t lose.

  As she walked up the main road, she was vaguely aware that a Royal Mail van had passed her a couple of times. The driver slowed as he approached for a third time and she beckoned him over. There were two things with which he could assist; a first-class transportation home service and cash-on-delivery. She checked in her bag and felt the presence of a couple of condoms safely stowed away next to her Goldilocks and agreed a price.

  Ten minutes later and the postman was speeding off into the night, twenty pounds lighter, de-stressed and joking about this having been one of his more enjoyable deliveries. Caz too was pleased as she quickly exchanged the postie’s cash for a new rock of crack from a local dealer. She’d chucked the one she’d prepared earlier on her trip to the police station. Now she was in her estate, warmer, contented and with some gear for her next fix tucked away. She didn’t mind that kind of punter.

  As she turned the corner of the block, her gaze shifted to the open rear doors of a private ambulance. The light was hypnotic, shining out against the darkness of the night, and she could see the silhouette of a man inside. Two more men, smartly dressed in dark suits, appeared from the entrance to Milton House. They pushed a trolley, upon which lay a body zipped up in a black bag. They moved towards the light, as did Caz, walking silently round the edge of the block. The trolley was lifted on to the ramp at the back of the ambulance and the shadowy figure inside shuffled towards it.

  ‘What’s this one like then, Bill? Young or old?’ he asked.

  His hand moved towards the top of the zip and pulled it down, revealing the head and shoulders of Dutch. Although West Indian by nationality, her face had lost some of the darker pigmentation in death. It was now blotchy and her cheeks were sunken and faded. Her eyes were staring upwards, lifeless and dull, and her mouth hung open. Her wig had fallen off and was stuffed into the top of the bag to one side and her real hair was exposed, cropped short and spiky.

  ‘Quite a young one then,’ the same shadowy figure remarked, zipping the bag back up. ‘Just another sad junkie. What a waste!’

  Caz froze at the words, her legs trembling so violently that she stumbled backwards, falling against a gate. The man peered out in the direction of the metallic clunk before cursing.

  The next thing she knew, she was running. Running through the walkways, down the stairs, along the concrete footways on and on, through the estate. Just another sad junkie. Just another sad junkie. The expression repeated in her head and the vision of Dutch’s dead body hung hazily in her sights.

  On and on, and out along the roadway. The intermittent car headlights blinded her as she ran and she threw her hands up over her face to shield her retinas against the brightness. Just another sad junkie. Down past the High Road and away into the quiet side streets until she came to the common. Only then did she stop running, squatting under a small tree, her breath expelled hard and fast, melting the frost on its frozen leaves.

  Just another sad junkie who needed to score again. Dawn was just beginning to break with a faint glow. It combined with a street lamp opposite, shining through the branches to provide enough meagre light for Caz to shakily assemble her next fix. As she inhaled, the ghostly faces of Redz and Dutch faded in and out of her consciousness, neutralising any benefits from the crack. Fatigue and despair were enticing her to sleep on the frozen earth, but somewhere at the back of her mind a warning sounded. If she allowed her body to succumb to the temptation, she’d be dead within hours from hypothermia, but she need not stay where she was. Her subconscious had directed her feet to the only place where she felt safe. Climbing out from beneath the frozen branches, she walked falteringly towards Anna’s office at the edge of the common.

  The building was shrouded in darkness; only the glint from the nearby streetlight reflecting off the bronze plaque and glass panels in the door. A vague waft of leather and furniture polish drifted into her nostrils as she pushed the letter box open and stared up the gloomy staircase ahead. Almost absent-mindedly she expected to see Anna walking down the stairs towards her, but then she realised it was Sunday morning and the office would remain shut all day.

  Caz cursed softly and wrapped her arms round her torso, imagining the occupants of the nearby houses tucked snugly into warm beds. She couldn’t remain where she was, or she would freeze. Looking around, she found a broken piece of brick and an old newspaper discarded in the gutter. She wrapped the paper around her hand and thrust the brick at the small panes in the door, smashing the glass and splintering it inwards. Carefully she leant through the jagged hole and reached down towards the door handle, manoeuvring herself carefully and releasing the catch.

  The empty office swaddled her in its warmth as she climbed the stairs and curled up on the couch like a newborn, but before she capitulated to the overpowering effect of the drug, she reached into her bag and found Goldilocks, positioning the grubby doll in her favourite spot against her cheek. Her thumb rose automatically to her mouth as she did so and as she began to suck rhythmically and instinctively, her mind cleared and she drifted into warm, secure nothingness.

  *

  Anna was woken from her sleep by a loud ringing at exactly six-thirty a.m. It took several attempts at the snooze button on her alarm clock before she registered it was her phone. She pushed herself up on to one arm, listening groggily to the police officer’s words.

  A prostitute claiming to be one of her clients had broken into her office and was saying that Anna herself would not mind. She had damaged the door and had been found asleep on her couch after a call from neighbours. He was sorry to wake her, but apparently the woman was insisting she be called before being arrested for burglary and taken to the station. The woman’s name? Yes, she was calling herself Caz.

  Anna dissected the information, trying to make sense of it. Why on earth would Caz be at her office now? She must know that Anna wouldn’t be there at this time on a Sunday, therefore she must be in trouble and to break into her office must mean she was desperate.

  The police officer apologised again, explaining that he needed to know whether she wanted to take action, or not.

  ‘No, no. Leave her. She is one of my clients. I’ll make my way straight there.’

  She thought she could detect a slight disappointment in the officer’s voice. It couldn’t be that often a person was actually caught bang to rights, but still, Caz obviously needed help not incarceration.

  It was still early, but her husband would understand. Anna threw some clothes on, brushed her teeth and tiptoed down the stai
rs, her hope building. Perhaps Caz had reached crisis point and could finally be let into the secret of the near-complete flat.

  The car heater had barely warmed before she was pulling up outside her office, slightly surprised and a little apprehensive at the absence of any police. A few splinters of broken glass glistened on the pavement, but as she opened the door, she noticed some larger shards on the mat inside. Gingerly, she climbed the stairs and pushed open the office door, peering into the gloom. She could just make out the shape of a figure on the couch and for a second she was scared. What if the woman had been lying?

  Switching the light on, however, she breathed a sigh of relief as she looked down at a sleeping Caz. Her pose was a carbon-copy of how she had appeared when Redz was murdered; thumb in mouth, doll clutched to her face. Something must have happened.

  Very gently she took Caz’s hand and bent close.

  ‘Caz, Caz. It’s me, Anna. Wake up. Are you all right?’

  Caz sat up quickly, pulling away, her head turning from side to side as if searching for a point of anchor. As she focussed on the psychologist, Anna saw her expression relax and the tension begin to leave her face.

  ‘Oh, it’s you. I was scared fuckin’ shitless. I dreamt I was lying on a cold slab in a bag and a faceless man was pulling the zip up over me. I couldn’t move or stop ’im an’ I couldn’t breathe. An’ it was gettin’ blacker and blacker.’

  Anna reached out and took her hand again, eliciting a sudden cry from Caz.

  ‘Dutch is dead. It was her body they was takin’ out in the bag, her body that’ll be lyin’ on a cold slab.’

  ‘What happened?’ Anna gasped audibly. First Redz, now Dutch. No wonder the girl was so distressed.

  ‘I dunno. She took a hit; only she took twice as much as normal. I went out shoppin’. When I got back like, there was this cop standin’ outside the flat. I knew somethin’ must ’ave happened. I pushed past ’im and saw Dutch. She was lyin’ exactly where I’d left her. Then Ayeisha came runnin’ out of the next-door flat in a right state, sayin’ Dutch was dead. An’ then the cops said the same and that it looked like she’d OD’d.’

  Caz spoke fast, her words tripping out almost automatically. Anna shook her head, still in shock. ‘Do you think she meant to overdose?’

  ‘I don’t know. There was some other gear that Razor had brought back that she might ’ave used, but I don’t think she really knew what she was doin’ or what she wanted.’

  Caz paused, as if deep in thought. Anna gazed at her young client and her heart went out to her. She knew only too well the dangers the girl faced on a daily basis. How was such a young woman supposed to deal with so much death? And what if Caz was next? Her life certainly seemed more precarious than ever. What if she never got the chance to reach out and be saved, grab the lifeline that was being offered? The time was surely coming when Caz’s very existence would hang in the balance.

  Caz shifted on the couch. ‘I hope you don’t mind me comin’ ’ere and breakin’ your glass. I didn’t know where else to go an’ I couldn’t go back to the flat after seein’ Dutch.’

  ‘Don’t worry, Caz. You know you can always come to me if you need help.’

  Anna moved away to make a hot drink for them both. When she returned, Caz had swung her legs round and was sitting up on the couch. She took the mug offered and sat quietly staring as the ripples spread out from the centre of the liquid.

  ‘People around me always seem to die,’ she said eventually.

  Anna looked at her, unsure whether she was referring to her childhood or the more recent events, but she seemed to want to talk and Anna was not going to let this chance slip away.

  ‘Who else died, Caz?’

  ‘The bastard who took my mum away from me. He died. I didn’t mind that though. He deserved it.’ She paused as if deciding whether to continue. ‘I told you what he did, Tommy, didn’t I? He took me mum away from us all, forever. Then he started to let ’is drunken mates come round to our house and they’d all get pissed. Sometimes some of the men would make me sit on their laps. They put their filthy hands all over me, touchin’ me while Tommy and me mum would just laugh. Tommy ’specially. He would stare at me with a strange look on his face. Me mum was always sorry when she sobered up. She said that she loved me an’ it wouldn’t happen again, but it always did.

  ‘Me brothers an’ I all told me mum to get rid of ’im and she said lots of times that she would… but she never did. She would always bleedin’ have him back and in the end it was me brothers who all left. I don’t even know where they are now.’

  Caz started to cry, silent tears that slid from the corners of her eyes.

  ‘That’s when he started on me, like. Just a little at first. He would make me sit on his lap when his mates was round an’ then he started to touch me. Sometimes he would take the piss out of how small my tits was. He would pull my T-shirt up so as everyone could see and they would all laugh. Even me mum laughed. She would tell ’im to leave me alone, but she never did anything to stop ’im. When he thought he could get away with it, he would do worse stuff. I could feel ’im underneath me gettin’ turned on, then I would make an excuse an’ pull away from ’im and run upstairs to my room.

  ‘One night though he followed me up. Mum was so pissed she’d passed out on the settee. He came over to my bed and put ’is hands under the covers and started tryin’ to touch me. His breath stunk of cigarettes and booze. He kept telling me that he loved me and wanted me. He said that my mum didn’t care about ’im anymore and that ’e didn’t find her attractive like ’e had. He started tryin’ to kiss me. I tried to pull away from ’im, but he was too strong. His mouth was all over mine. I wanted to be sick with the smell and taste of him.

  ‘I tried shoutin’ out for me mum, but he put his hand over my mouth. He was laughin’ and sayin’ that my mum would be pleased ’cause he wouldn’t be botherin’ her. That she wouldn’t mind. Then he ripped my clothes off and raped me, in me own bed, with me mum downstairs. It hurt so much, but he wouldn’t stop. It went on for ages and ages. I hated him so much at that moment.

  ‘When he finished, he rolled over and told me how good I was. He warned me that if I said anything to me mum ’bout what had happened, he would tell ’er that I’d led ’im on and been the one to start it. That I had loved every moment.

  ‘When he left the room I just cried an’ cried. There was blood all over my sheet an’ I rolled it up and threw it away. I couldn’t let me mum see it. I couldn’t say anything to her ’cause I knew he would tell her it was all my fault.’

  Tears were coursing down Caz’s cheeks as she spoke. Anna longed to put an arm around her but sensed it would be unwelcome.

  ‘After that he would come into my room whenever me mum was out of it. I tried to hide her booze and spliffs so as she wouldn’t get pissed, but he would always make sure she had enough. I hated ’im. I hated everything about ’im. His smug look, his stinkin’ breath, his dirty, filthy hands.

  ‘One night, I heard him comin’ up the stairs, pissed. He tripped up and was swearin’ out loud. I knew he was comin’ for me again. He came into my room and just stood by the door smilin’. He started tellin’ me to take my clothes off and that he was goin’ to fuck me. I just knew I had to get out. I couldn’t take no more. As he came towards me, I managed to push him out of the way and I locked myself in the toilet. He was bangin’ on the door, sayin’ that he knew I wanted ’im and that I was an ungrateful little bitch. I’d never heard ’im as bad as that before.

  ‘I was pushin’ against the door so as he couldn’t get in an’ after a while I heard ’im move away. I thought he’d given up. Then a few minutes later, I heard ’im out on the landing again, laughin’. He said he had Goldilocks and that he was goin’ to rip her to pieces.’

  Caz lifted the ragdoll up and placed her on her lap, her hands gently caressing the dirty material.

  ‘She was the only thing I had to remind me of me mum and that shoppin’ trip. I couldn�
�t let ’im destroy my last memory of the good times, so I opened the door an’ I pleaded with ’im to give her back to me, but he just fuckin’ laughed, laughed in my face. He said if I wanted ’er back I knew what I had to do an’ he unzipped his trousers. I felt sick.

  ‘He was standin’ on the landing next to the stairs, holdin’ Goldilocks out in his hands, swayin’ about. Then he lost his balance. I’ll never forget the look of panic on his face as he started grabbin’ at the banisters, tryin’ to get his balance, but he couldn’t. He fell right down to the bottom of the stairs and his head hit a cupboard. There was blood everywhere. I looked down at him an’ his stupid, pathetic, panic-stricken face an’ I just remember feelin’ happy.

  ‘I went down an’ took Goldilocks from out of his hand. I knew he was dead an’ I was glad. Glad that he’d never be able to touch me again. Glad that he couldn’t beat me mum up anymore. Glad that he was gone forever. Then I went back up to my room an’ left him there. I wanted to make absolutely sure he was dead. After about an hour I checked and ’e was still in the same place, his disgusting eyes staring up at me. I knew then for sure that I was safe.

  ‘I stepped over him and went to find me mum. She was still out of it, but I managed to wake her up. She called an ambulance but it was too late.’

  Caz wiped angrily at her eyes.

  ‘I never cried a single tear for that bastard at his funeral. I was glad he was fuckin’ dead. I never told me mum what he had done to me neither. I was frightened she wouldn’t believe me and that she would think it’d been my fault. You’re the only one I’ve ever told ’bout what happened.’

  Caz looked towards her for reassurance. It was clear it had taken every ounce of her courage and concentration to relive this awful part of her childhood.

  ‘Caz, I believe you.’ Anna made eye contact. ‘I believe that Tommy raped you, and I also believe that you have been extremely brave to tell me this.’