Saving April

by Sarah A. Denzil

  “But then I knew about her past, and I knew how difficult it would be for April to open up to us. She had a bad start in life. She lost her parents very young. By all accounts, her parents weren’t good people. They treated her badly. That was one of the reasons why I wanted to give her a happy home. Well, I’ve failed at that.

  “When Matt left work, things got even worse. Matt thought he’d find work as a personal trainer right away. But he was inexperienced, and he didn’t have the connections he needed. I paid for one course after the other, thinking that Matt would get it together and we’d soon have a second source of income. But that didn’t happen, we had to sell our house and move further out of the city. Matt ended up a house husband, and really hated it. He’s been getting more and more angry, and I think… I think he might be taking steroids, too.”

  “Has he ever hit you?” I ask.

  “Yes… and no… He doesn’t smack me around, if that’s what you mean.” Laura’s tone is hard, defensive. “But he’s been a bit… forceful with me sometimes.”

  “I saw him slap you,” I remind her.

  “That’s been the worst,” she says. “And I think it’s all from the steroids. It’s not really him. He’s a mess. We both are.”

  “Tell me you’re not staying with him,” I say. “Tell me you’re not going to let him back. Not after everything I just told you about April, about the bruises on her arms.”

  “Look, you can’t trust April. I know all you see is this vulnerable child, but she’s not, okay? She’s a liar. She’s been making stuff up for years. At first it was white lies, like eating all the Christmas chocolate, or ruining an art display at school. Then it got worse. She told us she was being bullied. So we went down to the school, and we yelled and kicked off at the teachers, only to find out that she is the bully and has been nasty to some of the other girls at school. She’s a troubled girl.” Laura rubs her palms against her jeans as though getting the sweat off them.

  “But surely, this is different,” I say. “You know Matt has a temper, and he’s alone with her all day. If she annoys him, he could easily snap.”

  Laura chews on her bottom lip and stares out of the window towards her own house. “It’s more complicated than you know.”

  “She’s still a child,” I say. “And children shouldn’t be brought into a dysfunctional home.”

  “Are you judging me?” Her eyes flash.

  I hold up my hands to placate her. “No. I’m really not. I mean… you need to resolve your relationship issues with Matt. Either he needs to change, or you need to throw him out. And you need to be sure he’s not hurting her, because it’s not fair to that child.” I hold back a sob.

  Laura stands up when there’s the sound of a car moving along Cavendish Street. My heart sinks when I see Matt getting out with his bag.

  “I have to go,” she says.

  I watch Laura through the window. She’s an odd woman. I didn’t realise at first, but now I see it. Despite her initial friendliness, and despite her opening up about April and Matt, there is an aloofness about her. And, worse, I don’t feel like I can trust her. Perhaps it’s that frozen smile and the lack of warmth she exudes, especially when talking about her daughter. She doesn’t seem to put April first, and I can’t figure out why any mother would behave like that. Seeing her go back into that house with Matt, I know something is still wrong. Then I remember the letter.

  As soon as I hear the slam of the front door, I want to escape. They’re back. I watched from my bedroom window. And now the arguing has started already. I hurry into the bathroom and lock the door. I don’t want to take any chances this time, not after last time. The screaming gets worse. I can’t bear it. I just want it to stop. I put my hands over my ears and the tears start to fall.

  When the footsteps start coming up the stairs, I sink down onto the floor next to the bath. My heart is racing. Please don’t find me. Please don’t find me.

  I want this to end.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Hannah

  I crumple the note into my hand. I’m on edge, razor sharp. Everything has come into focus now.

  I can’t believe the contents of the letter, yet somehow I always knew. This is more than my obsession with the Masons, now. It’s more important than that.

  Laura Mason has taken her husband back, and that means something.

  It takes me less than a minute to make up my mind.

  I know what to do.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Laura

  The fighting stopped almost as soon as it began. I think we exhausted ourselves. Then Matt went upstairs to speak to April. I’ve been glugging down wine ever since, imagining Hannah’s judgemental eyes as she questioned me. Has he ever hit you? I didn’t answer quite honestly. I didn’t tell her everything.

  I set down my wine and hurry upstairs. Matt and April are talking in hushed tones behind her bedroom door. I swing it open and the two them turn towards me with guilty expressions on their faces.

  “I was telling April how everything is going to be all right now,” Matt says, stretching his grin a little too wide.

  “Is it?” I reply. Nervous energy pulses through me, making my breathing laboured. I close and unclose my fists, trying to stay calm. “April, I think it’s time for you to go to bed now. Okay?”

  “Can I get a glass of water first?” she asks.

  I nod once, and move out of her way as she leaves the room. I watch her as she goes downstairs. Ever since we adopted her, I’ve always had this niggling paranoia that she doesn’t like me. No matter what I do, or what I buy her, she never opens up to me. But maybe that’s why. Kids know a phoney when they see one, and April can see the regret all over my face. I regret adopting her. It didn’t fix anything, it made things worse. It ruined my relationship with Matt, and it pushed me towards my job as an escape.

  But I do love her. Is that possible? To regret a child’s existence but also love them? What kind of monster am I? What kind of mother? I should face facts. I was never supposed to be a mother, and I’m not one now. I’m the temporary guardian of a girl who will probably leave as soon as she’s old enough.

  “You shouldn’t have said that to her,” Matt says.

  I don’t answer, instead I walk out of the room and leave him there. April passes me on the stairs, with her long hair trailing half across her face so I can’t see her expression. I never know what she’s thinking.

  “Laura.” Matt takes hold of my upper arm and pulls me downstairs. “Are you listening to me? You can’t act like that around her. We need to be united.”

  “I told you earlier everything that I needed to say. This marriage is over, Matt. You shouldn’t be here.”

  His face contorts. At first he grimaces as though in pain, then his face tightens as though he’s furious. I back away from him, my insides squirming. It’s like a nest of snakes are moving through my intestines. I scan the living room exits, wondering if I have time to run. Matt’s shoulders rise, his muscles bulge as he clenches his fists. His jaw starts to work, and I can see that he’s grinding his teeth.

  “Matt,” I say, changing tone to a soothing, quiet one. “It’s what’s best for us all. Just give us some time, okay?”

  “You’re talking about throwing me out of my fucking home.”

  I back away, bumping into the arm chair, tripping over the laptop charger. I’m a stumbling, bumbling fool letting my husband bully me. My heart thumps in my chest, causing my pulse to thud in my ears. Every time I take a step back, Matt narrows the space between us, until he only needs to reach out with his hands to grab me by the throat.

  “Dad, you should go.”

  Matt spins around at the sound of April’s voice. I take advantage of the distraction, hurrying away from him and towards April. My husband is almost dumbfounded by April standing against him. He blinks before shaking his head. The red mist seems to have cleared, and his fists unclench. Even still, I flinch as he barges past us, and flings open the fr
ont door, not bothering to close it. As the car screeches away, I close the door and lock it.

  “It’s for the best,” I say to April.

  She stands there for a second in her panda bear pyjamas, and I open my arms for her to fall into them. But April doesn’t come to me for comfort. As she walks away, my arms fall to my sides. I’ve failed.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Hannah

  Timing is everything. If I don’t do this right, it’ll mess everything up. I spent all night waiting. Most of the morning, waiting. I watched Matt Mason leave the house last night. I lay awake listening to the night, expecting to hear his car come back, but it never did. Laura Mason left this morning, too. She was in her smart work clothes again. I listened by the window as she talked to April on the street. I heard April ask to stay at home, then I heard Laura snap at her, and tell her that she had to stay with Laura’s friend for the day. Then they got in the car together.

  I had to wait some more. Timing is everything.

  When I know it’s right, I open my back door and hurry along the alleyway. Edith is out with her daughter today, I saw her get picked up. That’s good. I can do without Edith watching my every move.

  The keys feel strange in my hand. They’re warm from my body heat, but they’re hard and unyielding against my flesh. Today is as good as any to do this. The weather is perfect: not too hot, not too cold. The sun is shining, but there are little fluffs of clouds covering it, so that it’s not too bright. It’s a typically muted English summer day. The stifling heatwave is about done.

  I take a deep breath. This week I have stayed in a police cell, been to hospital, and been in my brother’s car. They were the hillocks on the way to this mountain. They were training me for this moment. I put the key into the car door.

  My Ford hasn’t moved for a year. After the accident, my brother insisted on making me buy a car. I had some money from the life-insurance and the sale of our house. With some of that money I bought the car and the small house I live in now. To pay my bills I use Stu’s savings, and my money from the editing. I don’t have many. I kept up the car insurance, thinking that one day I would get into my car and drive away. I don’t eat a lot. I hardly ever buy clothes, unless I need new underwear or jeans. I don’t spend much money on the house, and my heating and electric is manageable. I keep convincing myself that all of it means I’m getting by, I’m surviving. But am I living?

  The door opens with a click. I have no idea if it will even start. Do I remember how to drive? I slide into the seat and close my eyes. Then I check all around me. I check for insects, for litter, for any kind of distraction that will stop me from driving this car out of Cavendish Street and to where I need to go. When I put the key in the ignition, my heart is pounding, and my chest is tight.

  It won’t start, and then you can stop all this nonsense.

  I’m almost willing myself to fail before I’ve even begun. I rotate the key and listen to the engine try to tick over. It makes a juddering screech before stopping altogether. I let out a long exhale and slump against the wheel. That’s it. I tried.

  But determination forces me to carry on. I twist the keys again, my heart thumping away, adrenaline coursing through my veins. Chug-chug-chug-chug-ch-ch. I remember how Stuart used to rev the engine when the car wouldn’t start in winter. Tentatively, I apply pressure to the accelerator. Vrooom-vroom-chug-chug-chhhrrrr-brrrr. My heart soars and my stomach sinks when it happens. This is real, then. I’m really going to do it.

  My fingers tighten against the steering wheel. This is my moment of bravery, my heroic act. I’ve made it into my car, and I’m going to save someone. I’m changing everything, because of what was written in that note. But I don’t feel like a hero when I let down the handbrake, slowly release the clutch, and begin to drive away. My hands shake as I change gear. I creep down the street, dreading passing cars. I can’t drive the entire way this speed, I know that. I have to go faster, but as the speedometer needle goes up, my heart beat quickens.

  Make it to the end of the road. Put on your indicator. Turn right. Keep driving down the road. Ignore the cars coming the other way. Go faster.

  I bargain with myself at every moment. If I can get through this bend, I can turn at the cross roads. It’s less than a five minute drive, but it feels epic, like a three hour film or a ten year war.

  I see her right away, and I pull into the verge as slowly and carefully as I can. She has a backpack on her shoulders, and is standing on the grass waiting for me, shadowed by the woods behind her. This is where she said she would be. She wanted to be away from the house. Seeing her makes my heart beat faster. What if I’m making a mistake? She opens the door and gets in.

  “Thank you,” she says, with shining eyes.

  “It’s going to be okay, April. I’m going to take you to the police station and they’ll help you.” Seeing her, talking to her, I know this is the right thing to do.

  I couldn’t ignore the letter. She wrote to me, telling me how it was both Laura and Matt who hurt her. As I read the letter, I thought of nothing but how cold Laura had appeared when talking about her daughter. She barely even seemed to like April, and was far more upset by Matt’s cheating. When she told me that April lied, and that I couldn’t trust her, I thought it was really strange that she wasn’t taking things more seriously. The letter clarified everything. Laura gets drunk, yells at April, and hits her, too.

  What kind of a person would I be if I left her to that? When I saw Laura leave this morning, it confirmed everything for me. What kind of a mother goes to work the morning after her husband has been thrown out? Someone like that doesn’t deserve to have a child if she doesn’t love them. Not when there are those who have had their children taken away from them.

  “You’re going to be fine, April, I promise,” I say as I drive away from Cavendish Street.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Laura

  Almost as soon as I get to work, I know I’ve made a huge mistake. I should have stayed at home with April. But when I woke up that morning, April was downstairs eating cereal, and I realised that I had nothing to say to her. I couldn’t think of anything that would make things better, I couldn’t think of anything to say that would comfort her. I felt like such a failure, that I did the most cowardly thing I’ve ever done in my life. I took her to my nearest uni friend’s house, a few miles away from Cavendish Street, and I left her there.

  I haven’t spoken to Jen for a few months. Not since Matt insulted her husband’s new car. Matt was jealous, so he spent the entire evening getting progressively more drunk, and making rude remarks about how much money they had, and how they’ve wasted it on the car. He then made a horrible comment about Jen not being able to have children, and how she should get a job instead of being a house wife.

  “Women who aren’t mothers shouldn’t stay at home all day and do nothing. They should at least go to work.”

  My artist friend took offense to that. She’d sold a few paintings. Rob earned more than enough for the both of them, and that allowed Jen to stay at home and paint. But to Matt that was selfish if you didn’t have children. They were depriving the world of their offspring. I felt sick to hear him say those things.

  I’m lucky enough that Jen doesn’t often hold a grudge, and I knew she hadn’t seen April for a long time. I knew she would want to see her, especially when I told her I’d kicked Matt out of the house. She actually breathed a sigh of relief before pulling me into a huge bear hug. She didn’t say anything bad about him, and I love her for it, but I could see it on her face.

  Not even an hour into work, the phone rings, and it’s Jen.

  “I don’t want you to freak out,” she starts.

  “What’s happened?” I’m sitting up straighter in my chair. I chew nervously on the lid of my biro.

  “April has left. I’m sorry, Laura. I swear I only went into the studio for fifteen minutes. She was working on a sketch at the kitchen table, and I needed to wash some brus
hes before the paint hardened. I should have taken her into the studio with me. I’m so sorry.”

  I want to scream, but instead I say in a shaky voice. “It’s okay. It’s not your fault. I’ll go home and check there. Then I’ll ring Matt and see if she’s with him.”

  I can tell Jen is crying. “I’m so sorry, Laura. I’ll have a walk around the streets. There’s a park ten minutes away. I’ll see if she’s there.”

  I hang up and try April’s mobile, but it goes straight to voicemail, as I knew it would. April doesn’t just take herself off to the park when she feels like it. She’s not that kind of girl. This has something to do with me and Matt. Either she’s gone home, or she’s gone to Matt.

  I hurry into my manager’s office and tell them that I have to go. Then I rush down to the carpark and get in the car. Someone almost reverses into me as I pull out of the space. Or it could be that I almost drive into them, I’m in such a mess that I can’t tell. I swing around the car park and out into the town centre. It’s 11am and the traffic has died down, but there are many buses to watch out for. I take each corner a little too fast. I rush through amber as it’s on the verge of turning red. More than one pedestrian shouts vague insults in my direction as I speed past them, their words lost on the wind.

  I have to find her. I keep trying to imagine her at home, safe and sound. April knows how to get the bus on her own. She’s a clever girl. I know Matt takes her on the bus into town sometimes. With the internet, it’s far easier to plan how to get somewhere than it ever was when I was thirteen.

  Cavendish Street feels even smaller than usual. It seems emptier, too, like there aren’t as many parked cars as usual. I don’t linger outside long enough to work out which cars are missing, I rush into the house and slam the door.