We All Fall Down

by Cynthia Clark

  ‘Get in the van,’ Miriam roared at Bea.

  Careful not to let her bag bounce against her aching bottom, Bea climbed the two steps into the van. It was still terribly cold, but at least the wind was no longer whipping. She found a seat and lowered herself gingerly onto it, scrunching her face in pain as her bottom hit the hard vinyl.

  A hand reached out and covered hers, squeezing slightly. Sebastian was looking straight ahead, his chin raised, his jaw set. ‘You’ll get her next time,’ he whispered, his lips barely moving. She squeezed his hand back, thankful for his intervention this morning, even though the diversion didn’t lead to the desired results.

  The van rumbled as Miriam turned the key in the ignition. They were off. Soon they would be in school and for a few hours Bea wouldn’t have to worry about Miriam. She could focus on learning all that she could, making sure that she continued paving her way out of this horrible situation she was in.

  Huddling next to Sebastian in the van, Bea could still not relax. As the van meandered through the streets, she wondered what punishment Miriam would concoct, what would be awaiting them when they got back to the house this evening. ‘Do you think she’ll call the police?’ she whispered to Sebastian.

  ‘Shhh.’ His hand tightened over hers. ‘She wouldn’t dare, don’t worry about it.’

  He was probably right. Miriam would never risk drawing attention to herself. She’d be too scared one of the children would say something about the way she treated them. Or that the police would notice a bruise too many, or the children’s too-thin frames.

  ‘What if she finds it?’ she muttered.

  Sebastian said nothing. She looked at her brother and saw him staring straight ahead, his face immobile, his mouth set in a thin line.

  ‘Don’t worry about it,’ he finally said.

  She tried to focus on the here and now. Sebastian’s hand covering hers, helping her feel safe. The swaying of her body as the van rocked from side to side. The cars zooming past. But she couldn’t erase the image of Miriam speeding back to the home, going through their things, looking for something, anything that would give up what they’d been trying to do.

  Bea shivered as her body erupted in goosebumps. Her heart missed a beat at the thought that Miriam would act on her biggest threat and send one of them away, separate them from the only family that they’d known for years – each other. She had made the threat many times. She’d pick up the phone, shake the receiver at them, tell them it would only take one call and they’d be at the mercy of the system. That one word from her and they would end up in different homes and might not see each other again. They heard this mantra over and over, a persistent reminder that their future depended on her.

  She felt her hand being squeezed and looked at her brother. Sebastian curled his mouth in the smallest of smiles, his eyes crinkling in the corners. Bea longed for the years to go by, for them to grow up, to become independent, able to leave that place, take decisions for themselves. But for now they just had to survive from one day to the next.

  2

  Ronnie Moss had been awake for thirty-seven hours. A whole night with not even a glimpse of his bed. Or any other bed for that matter. He’d tried to take a snooze in the lorry while waiting for the delivery to be loaded, a process that had taken hours longer than it should have. But he couldn’t. There was too much noise at the furniture factory just outside Aberdeen. So instead he’d gone to a cafe and drunk one coffee after another, hoping that the caffeine would be enough to keep him awake for the drive back to London.

  Finally the lorry was loaded. ‘There’s a bed and breakfast a ten-minute drive down the motorway,’ the foreman said. ‘Tell them you were picking up from here and they’ll give you a good price.’

  But Ronnie just shook his head. He had another job the following day and he didn’t want to miss it. He’d have to drive all night to get back to London and hopefully have enough time to catch a few hours’ sleep before leaving again. This job wasn’t ideal, but it paid well, and he was not going to risk losing it. Laura wanted to get married soon and she’d already started talking about buying a flat in Whitechapel.

  He was about to get into the lorry cab and start driving when he spotted the telephone box. It was just before nine; Laura would still be awake, studying for her upcoming exams. She was determined to become a teacher and a steady income would be helpful. His heart filled with love and he felt the urge to hear her voice.

  The telephone booth’s door was broken. Ronnie huddled in the corner, pulling his jacket tightly around him, trying to protect himself from the whipping wind. It had been a cold winter, but here in Scotland it was even worse. He wasn’t sure what the temperature was, but it was certainly below freezing. His breath burst out of his nostrils in two streams of vapour.

  Ronnie removed his gloves and put some coins into the telephone before dialling the familiar number, hoping Laura’s dad wouldn’t answer. Mr Yates didn’t like it when Ronnie called so late. Still, his heartbeat accelerated with every ring. He couldn’t wait to hear Laura’s gentle voice. Her sweet whispers were the push he needed to make the drive back.

  ‘Hello.’ He heaved a sigh of relief when he heard Laura’s breathy voice, his heart filling with love for his girlfriend. Soon to be fiancée, he thought. He couldn’t wait to propose, to take the next step in their relationship. She was everything he had ever wished for in a girl and he couldn’t believe his luck when she agreed to go out with him. He thought about her soft skin and gentle blue eyes, her golden hair that glowed in the light.

  ‘Hey baby, how are you?’ he whispered into the receiver, cradling it gently in his big hands.

  The seconds ticked by, the silence only broken by noise from the passing cars. Ronnie shuffled his weight from one leg to the other. ‘Hello, are you there?’

  ‘Yes, yes, uhm, hi,’ Laura finally responded.

  ‘What’s up, baby? Did I wake you up?’

  ‘Uhm, no.’ Another pause. ‘Where are you?’

  ‘Just outside Aberdeen. It’s friggin’ cold up here. I can barely feel my fingers.’ As he spoke, Ronnie huddled even further in the telephone box, bending his head and trying to keep his face out of the blowing wind. ‘What have you been up to today?’

  ‘Oh, the usual.’ Laura’s voice was so soft that he had to strain to hear it over the din of traffic. ‘I spent the day at the library and then home to continue studying.’

  ‘Sounds like my girl!’ His heart filled with tenderness as he imagined her sitting on her bed, surrounded by books, her long neck bent over the one she was reading, fingers wrapped round a pen ready to take notes. ‘I’m off this weekend. How about I take you to dinner?’

  Moments passed without an answer. Ronnie could hear her breathing from the other end of the line. Something started to feel wrong. This was not the Laura he was used to, the one whose eyes shone brightly whenever she saw him, who would talk so fast every time he called her that he could barely keep up. The girl who wrapped her arms so tight round his neck that he felt the breath knocked out of him. ‘Baby, what’s up?’ he coaxed.

  ‘Uhm, nothing, just tired that’s all.’ Her voice sounded shifty, as if she was hiding something.

  ‘Come on, baby, speak to me. Tell me what’s up. How can I help?’

  ‘It’s nothing. When will you be home?’

  ‘I’m leaving now, should be back by eight, or nine at the latest. Plan to sleep for a few hours, then I have another job in the afternoon. Just to Wales and back so it should be quick.’

  The line crackled and then silence. ‘Laura, are you still there?’ he asked, shaking the receiver in his hands.

  ‘Uhm, yes.’ Her voice was barely a whisper.

  ‘What’s wrong? You don’t sound yourself.’

  ‘Let’s talk this weekend.’

  ‘No, tell me now. I can’t wait that long.’ Suddenly the need to know became overpowering, the most important thing in his life.

  ‘It’s just… I don’t know…�
� she started.

  Ronnie could hear the tremble in her voice. A knot formed in his throat and he swallowed hard to get rid of it. ‘Please, baby, just tell me.’

  ‘I… I don’t think we should see each other any more.’ The words came out in one gulp, as if she was afraid that if she stopped to think she would never utter them.

  Ronnie put his hand against the telephone box wall, using it to steady himself. His legs felt like jelly, his knees shaking so badly that he worried they would buckle under his weight. He felt the blood drain from his head. ‘But… I thought things were going well.’

  ‘They were, but you’re always away, driving for days. It’s not working.’

  ‘But, baby, this is until I can find a steady job. It’s only temporary. I’m saving up so we can buy a flat.’

  ‘You’ve been saying that for months. It was always meant to be temporary. But we both know that it isn’t, that you will continue doing this because it’s easier than looking for another job.’ There was an edge to her voice that Ronnie had never heard before. Condemnation mingled with resignation.

  ‘I’ll quit. As soon as I get back. I promise. I’ll come straight to your house after I drop the lorry so we can talk.’

  One, two, three. The seconds ticked by. She made no sound. All Ronnie could hear was the wind blowing inside the telephone box and the cars whizzing by outside.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ she finally said. ‘It’s just, I don’t know, it hasn’t felt right for me for a while now. It’s better to break it off now, before we get even more involved.’

  ‘But we are involved.’ He hated how raspy his voice sounded, how the words seemed to shake slightly. But still, he continued. ‘I was going to ask you to marry me, for fuck’s sake.’

  ‘I’m sorry, Ronnie. It’s better like this. Have a safe drive back.’ The click of the line felt like the last nail in the coffin holding their relationship.

  *

  The wind threatened to knock him off his feet, but he could barely feel it. He walked right to the lorry and fumbled with the keys, his trembling hands making it hard to find the ignition. He was determined to drive back and go straight to Laura’s house, talk to her, make her see sense, promise to quit this job, find a better one.

  But as the hours went by, he started feeling less confident. She had sounded so determined. She had not even said goodbye, just hung up. Maybe he’d give her a couple of days to think about it. Take the next job, make some more money, then quit and go find her.

  But what if she still didn’t want him back? Laura was the love of his life. He felt so lucky to have her. And now she was walking away from him.

  ‘Damn!’ He banged his fist against the steering wheel, wanting to be anywhere but in the lorry. He was exhausted, tired to the bone, but he had no choice other than to keep on driving.

  He was thirsty. Reaching for his water bottle, he realised it was empty. ‘What the fuck!’ He could stop, find a twenty-four-hour shop. But that would waste time that he didn’t have.

  And then he had remembered the small bottle of Scotch he had bought for his father. He’d take a small sip, just to wet his dry throat.

  Ronnie rummaged inside his bag, his eyes not leaving the road. Holding the top tightly between his right molars, he turned the bottle with his hand until the seal gave way. He took a sip, the burning sensation in his throat momentarily making him forget the pain in his heart. One sip, then another, and another. Until the conversation with Laura started to seem hazy. Perhaps she was just having a bad day. He’d go to her house and speak with her. In fact, he’d go straight there, not even bother dropping off the delivery, getting rid of the lorry. She’d be pleased to see him, of that he was sure.

  He needed to go to the bathroom, but didn’t want to stop. He was bone tired. His eyes kept fluttering shut and he had to fight to stay awake, to keep his focus on the road ahead. His knuckles were white as he tightened his fingers around the steering wheel, willing the journey to come to an end.

  Might as well finish this, he thought, looking at the amber liquid. Bringing the bottle to his mouth, he took a deep swig.

  And then, as he put the bottle down, he saw it. The blue van right in front of him. The children’s heads bobbing up and down among the seats. Time stood still as he saw it veer right, over the dividing line. Ronnie stepped his foot on the brake, every ounce of strength focused on stopping. He swerved the steering, trying to miss the van.

  ‘No, no, no, no, no,’ he shouted.

  But it was too late. The front of the lorry hit the side of the van. He saw every movement in slow motion. The driver, a woman with long hair, burst through the windscreen and flew in a perfect arc, landing with a thud on the road. The van kept going for a few metres, then hit the boundary wall, flipping over. There were sparks on the road as the upside-down van continued moving forward.

  Finally, it stopped, smoke coming from underneath it. Stones from the boundary wall showered down, burying it. Other cars stopped, people jumping out of them and running towards the van. They frantically removed the stones, screaming at each other. Nobody looked at him. He wasn’t important.

  Ronnie dropped his whisky bottle. Grabbing his bag, he opened the door and jumped outside. He should go and see if they needed anything. He started walking towards the van when he stepped on something. Looking down, he saw the schoolbag, its contents spread everywhere. Bile rose in his throat and he ran towards the bushes on the side of the road and jumped behind them. He ran and ran, until he was sure that nobody would catch him. He was safe. For now.

  3

  Bea’s stomach grumbled as she lay in the darkness. At least she thought she was lying down. She still wasn’t sure.

  There was a new noise coming from somewhere close by. It sounded mechanical, a screeching sound, like metal on metal. Her confusion grew and with it the fear that had started bubbling inside her. Her breathing became more rapid. Was this one of Miriam’s new punishments? A new way of tormenting her?

  She lay still and listened. There were others. She could hear the low moaning, the grunts of pain, the heavy breathing. Bea’s brain hurt as she tried to piece together the events leading to this moment. They were on the way to school. She had been looking outside, through the windscreen right next to Miriam’s head. Sebastian was still rubbing her hand, making small circles with his thumb. She savoured the reassurance, the sign that someone cared. She bit her lips to stop herself from crying. She couldn’t appear weak.

  It was then that she saw the lorry, its yellow cabin glinting in the morning light. Bea didn’t know what caught her eye. Maybe it was the slight zigzag left and right. She didn’t have time to ponder. Suddenly the van swerved to the right, directly in the path of the lorry. In that moment Bea caught a glimpse of the driver, his face hidden behind the bottle he was drinking from.

  And then the deafening sound of metal. The feeling of being thrown up in the air and then falling, falling, falling. The pain radiating through her whole body.

  Light suddenly came streaming in. Bea could see people looking at her, their faces contorted with worry. ‘They’re in here,’ she heard someone shout. ‘Quick, quick, keep cutting, let’s get them out.’

  Bea looked about her. Seats were torn from their places, children scattered among them. Helen had her eyes closed, Sandra was squirming in pain. Sebastian was lying next to her. His arm covering his face. She knew she shouldn’t move him, that, if he was hurt, this could make it worse. But before she could even think, Bea tenderly touched his elbow, wrapping her fingers round it, moving it down.

  And then she screamed. Screamed as she never had before. Years of fear, of suppressed emotions, of pain that couldn’t be stopped came tumbling out of her in one strangled scream as she stared into his lifeless blue eyes.

  4

  Ronnie Moss ran and ran. He didn’t dare stop. The tiredness had disappeared and he was suddenly sober.

  ‘I’m in so much trouble,’ he said over and over. It was not going to take the poli
ce long to track him down. They would smell the alcohol on his breath and he would be in jail within minutes. There was no escaping that fate. He had crashed into a van of schoolchildren and probably killed them all.

  For a moment he allowed fear and emotion to overwhelm him. He had killed children. He deserved to be put away.

  But then he remembered his parents. His mother, recently diagnosed with cancer, putting on a brave face as her hair fell out, as her body was ravaged by both the disease and the treatment intended to cure it. And his father, working hard, trying to be the rock his ailing wife desperately needed. No, he would not allow his parents to see him in jail.

  Quickly, he changed direction and ran to the bank, shifting impatiently as he waited for it to open. He didn’t know how much time he had, but it couldn’t be long.

  Finally he was inside, standing across from a cashier who seemed as if she was still half asleep. ‘What is the reason for the withdrawal?’ she asked when he told her he wanted to take out his meagre savings.

  Ronnie felt his heart miss a beat as a voice in his head urged him to think quick. ‘A chap I know is selling his car. It’s barely used, very low mileage. A great deal.’ He smiled, crinkling his eyes, hoping that she would believe his tale.

  The teller sat back in her chair and looked at him through narrowing eyes. The lump in Ronnie’s throat threatened to choke him but he forced himself not to react, to keep breathing, act as calm as he could.

  ‘You might want to take the car to a mechanic, make sure all is as it looks and this person is not selling you a problem on wheels.’ With that she tore her eyes away from Ronnie and rummaged in her cash drawer.

  He didn’t want to fritter away his hard-earned cash but time was of the essence. He couldn’t spare even one minute. Tucking the envelope filled with notes into his jacket pocket, Ronnie hailed a taxi. ‘Heathrow airport, please.’