Invisible Child

by Mary Hayward

  He pushed me down with his clenched fist, clawing at my throat, his rough hands locked in a pincer grip around my windpipe. Burrowing deep with his fingers, my muffled scream dulled into a rasping choke that shot into my paralysed jaw.

  I lay there, prostrate, stunned and utterly defenceless.

  Lindsay had woken and got out of bed. She sat there in her nightdress, bewildered, her little face flung amongst the chaos of it all. She was rubbing her wide eyes, trying to make sense of what was happening. I tried for a breath, but none came. I watched her anxiously; my last dying memory, hoping that it wasn’t, but what could I do?

  “I’ll kill you—you bitch.” His bulging glazed eyes shone out as he squeezed harder and harder, ripping into my throat like a lion ending the kill.

  Gurgle.

  Unable to speak, I noticed Colin had come into the room by the open door, Lindsay’s crying must have woken him, his back was to me. I looked across to Colin for help, pleading with my eyes for action, but none came.

  He didn’t do anything. He didn’t rescue me, he was bending down to Lindsay. Why was he not helping me? Could he not see me?

  Suddenly I knew I was done for. Was this the way my life would end? I felt the world drifting from me. My vision was the first to go, flashing in and out with a black redness, like dark cherries in the black soup, and suddenly I was blind, but aware of sounds and feelings. Then my hearing started to fail; sounds got softer, fainter, as if I were getting further away, drifting, floating; my body tingled until there was emptiness and numbness.

  Someone had turned up the volume control: my vision snapped back in a buzz of vibrant speckled colour; my body tingled once more. I lashed out and fought for my life in a frenzy, but it was no use; his weight was far too much for me. I snatched a breath of sweaty air as I felt his grip slacken. Colin grabbed Billy’s hand and made a vain attempt to pull him from me, at last he could see me. It wasn’t enough and once again he held me down and grabbed my throat with a renewed grip, more tightly than before.

  “You bitch—die, you bitch! You’re not ’aving her!”

  “Leave her alone!”

  Was that Colin’s voice?

  Shaking me like a rag doll, Billy cold-bloodily squeezed the lifeblood out of my body. Again and again I tried to fight back, flailing him with my arms and trying to kick him in the crotch, but nothing worked, and soon the world returned to black and white.

  High-pitched screams pierced through my mind. It was Lindsay.

  “Mummy, mummy, don’t hurt my mummy!”

  Her voice triggered something in me. Mothers will know what I mean. Adrenaline coursed through my body and fuelled the oxygen of my escape. I felt the sinews rip from my shoulders as I clawed at his face, tearing at him with my bare hands, and gouging out his eyes with my fingernails.

  I wasn’t going down without a fight. I punched, kicked with everything I had; I felt no pain, despite my knuckles, now raw with blood. Colin managed to put him in a neck hold and pull him back just enough for me to grab his little finger; I loosened his grip enough for me to tear myself away from his grasp. I spun round as he clambered to my body once more, but Colin was too quick, and despite getting a beating himself, he swung Billy backward pulling him out of the way onto the hall landing, Billy swivelled under his arm punching Colin flush in the face.

  Staggering and wheezing, I rolled over to Lindsay, holding her close to me. Then scooping her up in my arms I made a dash for it before my energy expired. I ran downstairs, half stumbling for all I was worth, screaming for Colin to call the police, but was still battling with Billy on the landing until eventually he managed to kick Billy down the stairs and lock him in the hall cupboard. Eventually he managed to force Billy out of the house and onto the street where he continued to spoil for a fight. I kept running into the night in my bare feet. Exhausted, I slumped down on the pavement in the darkness.

  I was still struggling to breathe when the police arrived. Lindsay was crying, and sobbing. I was trying to comfort her as best I could.

  The blue lights flashed outside. The police radio crackled in the background as they took Billy back into the house, keeping him well away from the rest of us. They wanted the story from each of us, although it was clear to see the red fingermarks that decorated my neck like a speckled band, and the bruising on Colin’s face.

  I would not stay in the house. As far as I was concerned, Billy would have killed me there and then, and from now on there was to be no way back. I phoned my mum, taking Colin and Lindsay in a mini-cab and staying overnight.

  I understood that the police suggested that Billy find somewhere else to live, but I didn’t know if he had.

  At the Solicitor’s the following morning I saw Peter Williams.

  “He tried to kill me last night. I called the police and he threatened to kill Lindsay, my three-year-old daughter, and he tried to strangle me. Fortunately my son was able to help pull him off.”

  “All right, this is what we need to do. We need to apply for an injunction. When we have that, your husband will have to find somewhere else to live, and will be prevented from approaching within a certain distance of your home.”

  “Okay. Will I have to attend the court?”

  “Yes, but don’t worry, Andrew here will pick you up at the house, and take you over there in our car.”

  “Where will it be?”

  “We won’t know at the start. I’ll need to check to see which court has the time free. It might be Hatfield Magistrates Court. But it doesn’t matter because, as I said, my assistant will take you there. Now that’s all we need at the moment, so I will give you a ring when I know the exact time and place.”

  “Thank you,” I said, turning and leaving.

  Andrew, an older man, picked me up and drove me to Hatfield, where we obtained a Non-Molestation Order. He brought me back and arranged for all the locks on the house to be changed. At last I had someone routing for me and things were starting to get me out of this mess.

  Stunned, my ear glued to the phone, I listened intently as Mr Williams gave me the news.

  “Billy has his name as the Lead Tenant, on the Rental Agreement for the house.”

  “So what difference does that make?”

  “It means that it’s not your house, it’s Billy’s.” He waited for me to realise what it meant.

  “I had been the only tenant of the house in Dendridge Close, and so I naturally assumed that the same would have happened at the new house in Cheshunt?”

  “No, Billy is clearly the Lead Tenant.”

  “You are telling me that I don’t rent my own home?”

  “I’m sorry, but yes.”

  “Are you telling me that I don’t even have a right to stay in my own home?”

  “No, I’m sorry, but there it is.”

  “Can I get it changed back to my name?”

  “You can, but you need to get Billy to sign the form transferring the tenancy to you, and of course, that may be tricky.”

  “Send me the form,” I said. “I’ll get it signed, you mark my words!”

  When I returned home I discovered that he had broken into my house and stolen all my child benefit money that I had been saving up—all £80. I couldn’t work out how he knew that I had hidden it under the carpet in the living room.

  I rang Florrie, my motherin-law from my first marriage to Terry, and she suggested I go to her place for a weekend break and get away from it all. After everything I had been through I thought it was a good idea; I needed a break so that I could make sense of what was happening.

  I grabbed a suitcase, packed a few things for myself, Colin, now fifteen, and Lindsay aged three, and called a cab ready to leave. It was then, at the instant I had put the phone down, that Billy turned up in his car.

  I wondered what he was going to do. I opened the front door to leave, but before I had a chance to close it, he barged right past me, snatching my handbag as he shot into the hall. He grabbed me and before I understood what was g
oing on, started jumping up and down on my feet with all his weight.

  It felt as if he were trying to break all my toes and, judging by the pain I suffered after that attack, I think he succeeded. I screamed at Colin to phone the police, but he wouldn’t. I never understood that.

  Billy took all my money and keys out of my purse, slung the bag back at me, shoving me out of the house and slamming the door; effectively locking me out of my own home.

  I didn’t know where Colin was at this time and it didn’t seem to matter, for he didn’t help me. It was like he was a referee at a football match.

  I could have spent time banging on the door and swearing at him, but I was better than that. I told the cab driver what Billy had done. He calmly got out and, walking over to Billy’s car, he deflated all the tyres before driving us away to phone my solicitor. They were closed for the weekend. The taxi driver took us to Florrie’s house as arranged, and she was good enough to settle the cab fare.

  But I still had a nagging worry at the back of my mind. How did Billy know that I was going out at that time?

  37

  Bugging

  IT WAS MONDAY 10th FEBRUARY 1986 when I returned from Florrie’s house. The taxi dropped Colin, now fifteen years old, off at his school. I continued to the house with my three-year-old toddler, Lindsay.

  It was locked. Billy had the keys.

  Florrie had lent me enough money for the taxi fare, and I was left with ten pence. It wasn’t enough for the locksmith, so I walked to the phone at the end of the street.

  The red telephone box stank of cat’s piss, and a pane of glass the size of a cat flap was missing. At least the phone worked. Propping open the door with my foot, I dialled my Solicitor’s office. I pressed a ten pence coin firmly into the slot. I got through to the office, but he wasn’t in his office. They went to find him.

  Bang, bang.

  Lindsay kicked at her pushchair. I worried if I would ever get though to Mr Williams before my money ran out. I was irritated at the way my life was going, and this morning was a sharp reminder that things were out of control.

  “Mr Williams?” I said.

  “Yes Mary, how can I help?” His voice was cultured.

  “I’m sorry, but I’m locked out again.” I was getting upset.

  “Okay.” He was calm.

  Lindsay was kicking the door. A bus roared past and belched out black smoke into the box.

  “Billy stole my keys,” cough, cough, “and my money from my purse... well, I’m down to my last ten pence!” I shouted.

  “Okay, don’t worry, I’ll get the locks changed right away. Have you… money?” The traffic noise drowned his words.

  “I’m going to the bank, thank you.” It felt good to have someone on my side.

  “Andrew will arrange it. Be about an hour—will that be all right?”

  “Thank you.” I glanced at my watch. “I’ll meet the locksmith about 12 o’clock, if that’s all right.”

  “Fine, leave it with me.” He ended the call.

  Mr Williams was so reliable; I couldn’t have done it without him.

  I tumbled out of the phone box into the relatively fresh air of Cheshunt High Street, made my way to Lloyds Bank, and drew out what little money I had. I went for a coffee in the Wimpy Bar with Lindsay, thinking about what I could do next.

  I started to wonder how Billy knew where my money was hidden. It was inconceivable that he was spying on me all the time, although he appeared at times to be living rough.

  It sounded ridiculous, but I really thought that I was being bugged with some electronic eavesdropping device. I didn’t mention the money on the phone to anyone, so he didn’t find out from me. I started to question my own sanity and thought I was going crazy.

  I returned to the house with Lindsay and waited outside. Heather, a neighbour who I occasionally saw at Lindsay’s playschool, spoke to me. She was curious. I told her I had locked myself out and was waiting for the locksmith.

  There didn’t appear to be any damage inside the house, and I assumed that Billy had left shortly after our confrontation. He wanted to unsettle me, and in that he succeeded. I couldn’t get the thoughts of bugging out of my mind, and decided to phone the Solicitor again.

  “Mr Williams?”

  “Yes Mary.” He knew my voice.

  I heard the shuffling of papers and male voices murmuring in the background.

  “I’m sorry to bother you again. I know you’re busy, but I’m worried.”

  “Yes, its okay, I have a few minutes, and then I shall be out all day I’m afraid.”

  “Billy couldn’t have known I was about to go out on Friday. Yet he arrived, at the very instant I was leaving.”

  “Yes.”

  “I think Billy has planted some listening devices in the house. How else would he have known?”

  “Oh, I don’t think you need to worry. Those devices aren’t available in the general marketplace.”

  “Mummy, mummy,” Lindsay said, tugging at my skirt.

  “Can you hold on for a moment?”

  I pulled out Lindsay’s play tape and headphones from the overnight bag.

  “Be quiet Lindsay!” I said. “Here’s your tape recorder and headphones. Now be a good girl, sit down in the living room, and I’ll get you a drink when I’ve finished on the phone.” She sat on the sofa listening to her stories.

  “Hello Mr Williams, I’m sorry about that.”

  “That’s okay, now as I was saying, I don’t think you need worry about bugging.” He sounded authoritative.

  “All right, thank you for your advice.”

  “You’re welcome. I’m sorry I’ve run out of time.”

  All my instincts told me something had been going on. Billy was cunning, not stupid. Unable to settle, it was bugging me, like unfinished business.

  Settling Lindsay with a drink at the dining table, I took the opportunity to phone Mum. I asked if she could arrange for John, our neighbour at Langhedge Lane, to visit to fit some locks on the internal doors. I was worried Billy might break into the house. Uneasy butterflies fluttered in my stomach.

  It was Sunday afternoon when John arrived, to set about fitting the locks on the internal doors. Colin was mooning around the house not knowing what to do with himself. Whilst John was working on the doors, I told Colin my worries about being bugged. He seized upon the idea with the challenge of a treasure hunt, and soon he was looking everywhere searching for bugs, like some secret agent. He searched all over the house: under tables, chairs, behind cupboards, beds, under carpets. Nothing. Then I heard him calling.

  “Mum, mum, come here!”

  An excited Colin was waving frantically in the living room. Being quite tall for his age, he was able to pull the wall unit away and peer behind. Lindsay rushed over. I put my finger to my lips and signalled to whisper.

  Tucked neatly, and concealed behind a shelf, Colin had discovered a device, so small that two would have fitted neatly inside a matchbox. Lindsay called it a mouse, because of its little tail. Colin ripped it off and dropped it into a fruit bowl with a clang.

  “That’s it, Mum!” His face beamed with the widest smile.

  “I knew it,” I whispered. “He’s been bugging me all this time.”

  “He would have heard everything you were saying.”

  Colin broke it open and removed the battery.

  “That’s why he knew about the money I had saved under the carpet.”

  “Yes,” said Colin. “I’ll carry on looking for the others—there must be more.”

  Colin quietly emptied the shelves, placing the books neatly onto the floor of the living room.

  Lindsay wandered around the house wearing a pair of her dad’s big headphones. She looked so funny, with the black curly lead trailed along the floor behind her. Colin and I had to laugh.

  Moments later I was in the kitchen talking to John, when Lindsay started shouting.

  “Mummy, I can hear you!” She thought it was some sort of g
ame.

  I stopped talking to John. I was curious.

  “What do you mean you can you hear me, Lindsay? You’re not connected to anything, darling.”

  “I can hear you talking in the kitchen through my big ears.” She pulled off the headphones. She wandered over to where John and I were standing by the cooker. I bent down to her as she clumsily fitted them to my ears. I wandered into the living room.

  “Say something for me, Lindsay.”

  “What do you want me to say Mummy?” she squeaked.

  “I can hear her! It’s loud and clear. John, she’s right! What’s happening?”

  “The headphones have acted as some sort of aerial, like an old crystal set, picking up the sound.”

  Colin poked his head around the living room door. “What’s happening?”

  “We can hear voices in the headphones.”

  “So does that mean we can use this to find the bugs?” he asked.

  John nodded and put his finger to his lips. “Shoosh.”

  “Yeah, Mum, why don’t you walk over to the kitchen, and see if the signal gets stronger?”

  “That’s a good idea.”

  I wandered back dangling the lead around the cooker.

  “It’s buzzing louder, John.” I was quietly excited.

  There was a three-way adaptor plugged into the cooker socket. Each time I put it close, the headphones buzzed. I switched off the cooker socket. The buzzing stopped. I walked back into the living room. Silence, the voices in the kitchen had gone!

  “Got it John! It’s the adaptor on the cooker! It’s the adaptor!” I jumped up and down.

  John unplugged it and rerouted the wires.

  “Great—you’re clever Lindsay, thank you—you smart little girl!”

  I scooped her up in my arms and gave her a big hug and kiss, and then I sent her all over the house, sniffing out any other bugs.

  “Colin, go with Lindsay and start searching with the headphones.”

  He was brilliant. He searched in places I would never have dreamt of until he had found five in all.

  Monday morning I arrived at the Solicitors, Lindsay in the pushchair, and my bundle of bugs in my pocket.