“I liked our house,” April says in a quiet voice.
It’s small, but it feels like a breakthrough. She’s talking to me about her feelings. That’s big.
“That’s because we lived there for a long time, and we have lots of great memories there. Don’t worry, soon we’ll have lots of great memories here, too. It just takes time. Are you worried about starting a new school?”
She nods.
“I moved when I was about your age.” I find a spot on the duvet and concentrate on it, forcing myself to keep talking, but without thinking about that time in my life. I hate to think about it, but I want to help my daughter so I continue. “I was really scared. I thought I wouldn’t make any friends at all. But on my very first day, I sat next to this girl in form time and she told me all about her summer, and the TV programmes she loved. We found out we liked the same music and films. We were best friends after just one conversation. It doesn’t always happen like that, but it can. All you have to be is open to it. If you let people in, they’ll be friends with you, and they’ll like you.”
I watch April, waiting for her to respond, but she doesn’t say anything. I direct a questioning glance at Matt but he shrugs.
“Shall we leave you alone, kiddo?” Matt says.
April nods and offers me a small smile. It feels like a thank you, so I give her one more hug before getting off the bed. Matt and I leave at the same time, but I can’t resist one last look at my daughter. She already has her diary out and is scribbling in it.
When I close the door to her room, I can’t help worrying about how April will cope at school. The story I told her wasn’t completely true. I did make a friend on the first day, Katie her name was, and we did end up being best friends for a long time. But I was bullied, too. I never had the right clothes, or the right hair and make-up. I was one of those poor kids that wear bargain knock-off trainers and smell funny. Katie was a natural martyr, someone who took pity on me.
I miss Katie a lot. We lost touch when she moved to London with her husband. At least, that’s why I tell myself we lost touch. The truth is, when Katie first moved there, I went to visit them both a lot. Then Matt started going with me, and Katie stopped inviting us. Matt was going through a weird phase where he disliked all my friends. He’d get drunk at dinner and make an arse of himself, talking about how people who were politically left-leaning were all Communists. Katie works in charities and volunteers for the Labour party. It didn’t go down well. Matt doesn’t even care about politics. He just wanted to rile them up. I’ll never forget the pitying expression on Katie’s face when we last visited them. It was an “I’m so sorry you married him” look that I think about in my dark moments.
Matt has already settled into the sofa, and has the football highlights on, so I go into the kitchen and start putting away the dry dishes. I could try and convince myself that I’m not avoiding him, but of course it would be a lie. I don’t want to fight, and I don’t want anything else either. I just want to be alone.
I throw the empty wrapper from the garlic bread into the bin and notice that the kitchen bin is getting full. At first I open my mouth to shout Matt. I hate taking the bin out. It stinks and can be heavy. But then I decide to do it myself. I quietly unlock the back door, pull the bin bag out, and nip into the garden to put it in the black bin outside. I have a sneaking feeling that what I see in the black bin will confirm my suspicions.
When I lift the bin, I see what I expect to see. There’s one other bin bag in there, and it’s a smallish one from the kitchen bin. There’s nothing else. No pizza boxes.
I want it to stop. I want him to stop hurting us.
I thought it was going to be okay tonight. We had a nice dinner. We all got on okay for a change. Then Mum started asking questions and I had to lie. I thought she believed me, but later I heard her arguing with Dad again. I guess she started asking him questions and he got mad. They started shouting, then she ran upstairs and locked herself in the bathroom. I’ve put a chair under the door handle like Mum showed me too. I can hear Dad shouting and I’m afraid. I just want it all to stop. Maybe someone will help me.
Chapter Thirteen
Hannah
Never have I felt like such a fool. The police thought I was crazy. After they went into the Masons’ house, they’d left with big grins on their faces, shaking Matt Mason’s hand when they came out of the door. I might have imagined it, but I’m sure one of them stared at my window as they were getting back into the police car. About ten minutes later, I heard a knock on my back door. There, on the steps leading down to the garden, stood the two officers.
“Hello, Miss Abbott isn’t it? You made the 999 call about the young girl across the street?” The male officer had spoken first. He was only an inch or so taller than the female officer and dwarfed by his uniform. He was young, mid-twenties, and had blue eyes and blotchy skin. His voice had a hint of Yorkshire accent, but wasn’t as broad as most of the people round here.
“Yes… I… it’s supposed to be anonymous.”
“We parked down the street,” chipped in the female officer. She wasn’t wearing her cap, so I could see that she was bleach-blonde. Her face was a little round, but pretty, and her eyes were brown which complemented her blonde hair. She was one of those girls who was a little bit chubby, but probably had a better BMI than most people. She was just shorter and stumpier. “I’m PC Ellis and this is my colleague PC Baker. Can we come in for five minutes? We just want a chat.”
“I’d better… err…” The panic had started. My chest was tight and my stomach was churning. “Shut the kitchen door.”
“That might be best,” PC Ellis said.
It was only as I was stepping across the kitchen that I realised how much she sounded like she was talking to a child.
“Would you like a cup of tea?” I offered.
“That’s okay.” PC Ellis answered as she entered the house with the other officer.
My face flushed with embarrassment as they winced. I’d forgotten that it still smelled like sick from where I threw up. Then it flushed even more when both the officers saw the half empty bottle of vodka on the kitchen side. They’d exchanged a glance as though wordlessly speaking to each other. I didn’t like the expressions on their faces. It was the kind of look that suggests they wouldn’t be taking me seriously from now on.
“Must have left this out last night,” I’d said, trying to force a chuckle into my voice. I’d put the vodka in the fridge and wiped the back of my hand across my forehead. Great, sweating would help convince them I wasn’t drunk.
“Miss Abbott, we received your call at 12:30pm that a young girl had suggested she was in distress.” PC Baker officer consulted his notebook. “We arrived at the scene at 12:43 and entered the property. We spoke to the girl, and the girl’s father, but we saw no evidence of physical or emotional harm. Now, what we’d like to establish, is why you decided to call 999.”
The blood drained from my face. “Am I in trouble?”
“Not at all,” PC Ellis said, although her expression suggested more “not yet”. “We just want to establish the facts. We take child safety very seriously.”
“Okay, well… for the last few weeks, since the Masons moved into number 72, I’ve heard shouting from the house. The parents seem to be fighting a lot.”
“Have you ever seen anything physical?” PC Baker asked.
“No,” I admitted. “But the shouting is very loud, and, I suppose I found it frightening.” I hadn’t told them that I’m frightened of my own shadow, that I worry if I sit down too long I’ll get a blood clot and die, or that too much salt will give me a stroke.
He’d scribbled in his notebook and the silence stretched out unbearably. Even blondie shifted her weight from one foot to the other as though uncomfortable with the situation.
“Then, today, I was in my living room.” My mouth went dry so I try to swallow, but ended up coughing instead. “I looked out of the window and saw the girl, April, sta
nding at the window in her room. She just stood there for a moment, then she held up this sign.” I’d mimicked holding up a sign.
“What was the sign like?” he asked.
“It was a plain piece of A4 paper. And on it she had written help in block capitals.”
“What was the word written in?”
I frowned, wondering why that makes any difference. “Thick marker pen, or a felt tip or something like that. It was written large enough so I could see it from across the street.”
“Uh-huh.” The guy nodded. He finished scribbling in his notebook and finally raised his head to meet my gaze. He flashed me a small, unenthusiastic smile. “And what can you tell us about your mental state when April held up the sign?”
“What does that have to do with it?” I snapped. Their friendly chat had started to become more of an interrogation.
“Please answer the question,” PC Ellis had prompted. “It would be really useful for our investigation.”
I swallowed again, my mouth completely dry. “I was… I was fine.” It hadn’t been convincing, not even to me.
“You hadn’t been drinking?” she asked.
I closed my eyes and exhaled. “I had one shot of vodka.” When I opened them again, I caught the end of an epic eye-roll from Baker. “It’s not what you think. I’m not an alcoholic. I… I’ve been suffering with a little bit of anxiety for the last few months. I got worked up and drank the vodka to steady my nerves. But apart from that I was fine.”
“So you didn’t drink so much you made yourself ill?” Ellis asked, raising her eyebrows. I’d thought at least she was on my side. Not anymore.
“No, absolutely not.”
“Okay, well thank you for your time.”
They’d started heading towards the door and the panic of them being in my house made way for the panic of them leaving without making sure that April is safe.
“Wait, you’re not going to leave April with her father are you? He’s not a good guy. He’s having an affair, and I think he might be violent,” I said.
“It’s not a crime to have an affair, unfortunately,” Ellis replied. She’d fixed me with a pitying expression as she opened the door. “Miss Abbott, April is absolutely fine. She told us so herself. We’re trained to search for signs of child abuse and we saw nothing. Look, she’s a kid who was uprooted from a new home and she’s probably just acting out. You did the right thing to call us if you were worried, but now it’s time to move on… and maybe address your own problems.”
Her words had been like a sting to my face. Even Baker seemed to feel sorry for me after what she said. And wasn’t like she was being nasty, she appeared to be at least trying to give me some proper advice. As I’d closed the door, the embarrassment had enveloped me like a suffocating hug.
*
It took me a while to get over the visit from the police. I moped around the house for a while, unable to concentrate on my work, my mind completely swamped with differing thoughts about the Masons. When I see Edith going into the garden, I make a cup of tea and settle down on the step.
“Hello, love,” she says, waving her sagging arm at me.
It’s 5pm, but the sunshine is still unwavering, and the heat is still verging on unbearable. There’s a very slight lingering scent of vomit coming from the doorway, but I reassure myself that it’s all clean, and that I’m probably imagining it. A bee flies towards my face and I duck away quickly, spilling a little of my tea, but not before I notice a wry smile on Edith’s face.
“You’re a little jumpy today,” she says.
“I didn’t sleep all that well,” I reply.
“You’re too young to not be sleeping well,” Edith says in a voice that’s uncannily like the chastising voice of my late grandmother. She arranges her gardening tools on a little trestle table that her daughter’s family brought over a few months ago. “Fresh air is what you need. When I was your age, I used to walk all over the place. We couldn’t afford a car then, you see. They were a luxury, not like now when everyone has one. I used to walk to every shop. There was no going to the gym back then. Life was our gym.”
And the world was her generation’s dumping ground. That’s why it’s such a mess now.
“Edith, did you see anything strange at the Masons’ today?” I ask.
“I’ve been out with my daughter today. She dropped me off an hour ago. The grandkids are growing up fast.” She shakes her head. “Too fast. And all those blasted devices. They don’t look up anymore. They’ll be sorry when they’re my age and have bad backs.”
“Your grandkids are teenagers, aren’t they?” I ask.
“That’s right, thirteen and sixteen. Sam is taller than I am now. He’s a strapping fella. Plays rugby, you know. Now there’s a proper sport, not like those footballers kicking around a bag of wind.”
I sip my tea and try to remain patient. I want to ask her a question, but staying on topic with Edith is like teaching a kid with ADHD. “What are kids like when they’re a teenager, or almost a teenager, do they act up a lot?”
“Some do, I suppose,” she says. She has her head down now, and she’s re-potting a rose plant into a larger container. “It really depends on their upbringing. Parents need to take a stronger hand, stop all the messing about you see now-a-days.”
“Do you think they crave attention?” I ask.
“Oh,” she says with a laugh. “Of course! Don’t you remember what it was like to be a teenager? You’re younger than I am, so you have no excuse. Well, I had many brothers and sisters, and when they morphed into teenagers, well, they definitely wanted attention. They turned into complete pests, slamming doors, arguing with our parents, talking back. Don’t give me that look, it’s different than how the kids are today, we weren’t rude in public, we respected our elders. But some of us did rebel against our parents, that’s for sure.”
“Were you a rebel, Edith?”
There’s a sparkle in her eyes. “Now that would be telling.” She lets out a sigh and straightens her back. She lifts her head up to the sky for a moment as though reliving a wondrous event. Then she’s back to her rose plant. “Teenagers are a funny breed. It’s frustrating to be so close to being an adult but so far away. I know I felt a sudden difference coming up to thirteen. It was like a big ball of frustration building up inside me. I wanted everyone to see me, but I wanted to hide away, too. Still, I wasn’t as bad as my brother. When we got our first phone, he used to prank call everyone on the street! When Ma found out it was him, he got such a hiding. And my sister, well, she cut her hair right down, she did. Ma went crazy when she found out. Sally said it was because she saw the style in a magazine, but I know it was because she wanted to get back at Ma for stopping her allowance.”
“I had no idea you knew so much about being young, Edith,” I say with a smile.
“Well, when you get to my age, all you do is think about the past. All we ever want is to relive it. Well, some of it. I would not go back to being thirteen, that’s for sure.” Then she reconsiders. “Perhaps I would, I don’t know. But, one thing I do know, it’s a dangerous age.”
“What do you mean?”
“It’s trouble.” She shudders. “Just trust me. I’ve had some run ins with the bad-uns in my lifetime. There are some bad eggs out there. They want more than attention, trust me.”
Chapter Fourteen
Hannah
“I hope you like Sauvignon Blanc,” Laura says as she steps into the living room.
It takes me a few seconds to stop standing there with my jaw hanging loose and actually close the door. When I’d heard the knock I’d considered leaving it. I don’t think anyone has ever knocked on my door later than 5pm on a Saturday night, except for the occasional trick or treater on Halloween. I considered leaving it and shutting the blinds, but then curiosity won over panic, and I decided to see who it was. I never expected Laura.
“Yeah, it’s great,” I reply.
“Where’s your corkscrew?”
“Umm, the kitchen. second drawer down.”
“I never get screw tops,” she says. “I don’t trust ‘em.”
I nod along as I follow her through to the kitchen. Laura seems so confident and at home even in my house. It’s like she could exist anywhere and be the host. But why is she here? She must know, she must have guessed… A cold sensation prickles my skin. She knows I’m the person who called the police. She’s come here to find out for definite. This is a test to see what I know.
I stand inside the kitchen door feeling like a stranger in my own home as she rifles through the kitchen draw searching for the corkscrew.
“I know it’s naughty, but I brought chocolate.” Laura pulls a share size packet of Maltesers out of her bag and rattles it, grinning. “I’m supposed to be on a diet. I keep trying, but it’s so hard.” She pauses to set the bottle of wine on the counter, and I open my mouth to say she doesn’t need to diet, but Laura begins talking again before I get the opportunity. “Matt’s right though, I really do need to be healthier.”
“Matt thinks you should diet?”
Laura plunges the corkscrew into the cork with such ferocity that it makes me start. “No, well, kind of.” She sighs as she twists the screw into the cork. “He thinks I should exercise more. He says it quite a lot. He’s a personal trainer, you know. Being healthy is really important to him. But it’s not the be all and end all, you know? Oh, I’m rambling on already, aren’t I? Going on about my problems and I’ve barely even said hello.”
“That’s okay.” I force a smile. I can’t stop analysing every one of Laura’s moves. Does she know? Is her smile fake? Her movements are jerky and sharp. She keeps smiling, but there are times when her smile is frozen and unnatural. Is she anxious about something? I wish I knew her well enough to be able to tell.
Laura yanks the cork from the bottle and spins to face me. “Glasses?”
“Second cupboard to your right.” I point towards the correct cupboard, only to realise that my hands are shaking. As Laura turns away, I jam my hands in my jeans pockets.
Saving April Page 7
