The Witness

by Jane Bidder

  But the policewoman wasn’t writing a novel. Not unless it was about Kayleigh’s life. The thought made her giggle. The more she tried to stop, the worse it got. The air was coming out of her in big spurts like she was belching, just as Ron was always doing.

  “Think all this is funny, do you?” The woman glared at her. Thin nose, observed Kayleigh, but cool, long eyelashes. You needed to notice things like that, Mr Brown was always saying. “Do you realise you’ve just committed a criminal offence?”

  Kayleigh froze. If there were two words that she knew, it was those. The very ones that the cops had used when they’d come for Callum last summer and found stuff under his bed; including a special hole inside his trainers.

  “How?” she demanded but her tone felt thick and the word didn’t come out very well.

  “How?” The policewoman pointed to her. “Look at you. Stark naked under that blanket. Do you think it’s all right to have sex in a public place?”

  “It seemed OK at the time,” Kayleigh heard herself saying. Suddenly she didn’t feel like laughing any more.

  “Gave you something, did he?” asked the policewoman, a bit kinder this time. “To make you do it?”

  Briefly, she hesitated. If she told this woman about the pill, Frankie might get into trouble. Then he wouldn’t be able to look after her. They wouldn’t be able to have kids and live in a nice house overlooking the park with a proper drive for a car.

  “You can tell me,” said the policewoman. But there was an edge about her voice which Kayleigh didn’t trust.

  No comment. That’s what her half-brother had said when they arrested him.

  “No comment,” said Kayleigh.

  The policewoman’s face hardened. “Don’t try and protect him, Trust me. He’s not worth it.”

  How did she know? Had she slept with him too? Just then, another policeman arrived, breathing fast like he was out of breath. “Got him. He’s in the van.”

  Kayleigh’s heart sank. They’d arrested Frankie? Now he’d think she’d split on him.

  “What’s your name, love?” The second policeman was talking to her more nicely than the first.

  “Kayleigh,” she said, reluctantly. There didn’t seem much point in hiding stuff; not now the police were here and the fireworks had faded and Frankie was nicked in the van.

  “How old are you?” he added.

  His blue eyes were hypnotic. His hair as black as Frankie’s. “Fifteen.”

  There was a sharp in-drawing of breath from the woman. “We’ve nailed him then. We’ve finally nailed him.”

  What had she meant, Kayleigh kept wondering as they put her in the back of the car, still wrapped up in the blanket. (Her own stuff, they said, had to go in a special bag for ‘evidence’ even though she tried telling them they really belonged to her friend Marlene so they mustn’t muck them up.)

  But she didn’t like to make a fuss in case it got Frankie into more trouble. Where was he, she wanted to ask, as the car stopped outside a police station. It wasn’t like their local one where her half-brother had been taken. This one had a view of the sea behind.

  Someone gave her a cup of tea in a proper mug that had an outline of Kate and William on it with the words Royal Wedding written below. The rim had a chip. Kayleigh wished she’d nodded when asked if she took sugar but she was scared of being a nuisance. It might annoy them even more.

  She was a good girl. Everyone knew that. Her mother told her that all the time, especially when she shut herself in her room to give Mum and Ron some ‘privacy’. But she’d said it in a way that suggested that only saddos were ‘good girls’.

  “Come in here, Kayleigh, can you?” said someone else. It was the same man from the park with those very clear blue eyes that looked at her as though he either fancied her rotten or could see right through her. He opened a door that said ‘Interview Room’ on it and then allowed her to go through first like a real gentleman.

  Either way, there was no way she could hide the truth. Not with eyes boring through her like that. The door opening had made a difference too. Mr Brown let women through first. She’d seen him doing it the other week with one of the women science teachers. It had impressed her. Looked like it had impressed the teacher too.

  “I’d like you to tell me, Kayleigh, exactly what happened.”

  So she did; least, as far as she could remember.

  When she’d finished, she could swear she saw tears in the policeman’s eyes. Maybe he was a bloody good actor like her dad had been. At least that’s what Mum was always saying.

  “So he didn’t force you?”

  She shook her head.

  “But he gave you a pill?”

  She nodded.

  He glanced down again at his pad of paper and she began to wish she hadn’t told him all that stuff in the car about growing up without a dad. “Life hasn’t been easy for you, Kayleigh, has it?”

  A large lump formed in her throat.

  “It’s been OK.”

  His fingers played with the pen in his hand. They were long thin fingers and the nails were clipped quite short. Kayleigh glanced down at her own which bore traces of the black varnish that Marlene had lent her. When she had enough money, she was going to buy some remover pads.

  “I’m beginning to wonder if we’ve done the right thing.” He seemed to be talking to himself. “We’ve called your mum. She’d coming down here with your stepdad.”

  Kayleigh felt fear mixed with anger. “How did you find her?”

  Those eyes held hers. “Her number was on your phone in your pocket.”

  “He’s not my stepdad.”

  “Really?” There was a slight frown. “Your mum called him her husband.”

  Kayleigh heard her voice rise. “She says that about all of them.”

  Then she stopped. Bloody hell. That was her mother’s voice outside. Now she’d had it.

  “We can’t just let you go,” the policeman said gently. “You could be charged, you know. But if you promise to go back quietly with your mum and not get into any more trouble, we might manage to keep your record clean.”

  Those clean fingers were still firmly clasped round the pencil which he was tapping now on the paper. Not writing anything. Almost stabbing the words he’d just written. Least, that’s what it looked like. “There’s just one thing. We’ll be using your statement to testify against Frankie Miller.”

  Miller? Was that his surname? It had a nice ring to it. Frankie Miller. Kayleigh Miller. It was a good game to give a kid. Not something stupid like Long which made the boys snigger at school.

  Long face. Long ass.

  “But you still might have to go to court if he refuses to plead guilty.”

  Go to court? Face Frankie, who would think she’d grassed on him? Tell the court what happened? “But it was a private thing,” she said urgently. “Between him and us.”

  The blue eyes went cold. “Not when it’s in a park. It’s illegal, Don’t you see, Kayleigh? Some kid might have seen you. You might have traumatised him – or her – for life.”

  Then he stopped as though he’d said too much. “Just do what I say, Kayleigh. Be a good girl. Or we’ll have to hold you here.”

  “Mum will kill me,” she wanted to say. But she stopped. Maybe going home was better than being put in a cell.

  She was wrong. As soon as they got back, Mum started. How could you do something so stupid? If you want to have sex (and God knows you’ve waited long enough – I was beginning to think there was something wrong with you), couldn’t you have the decency to do it behind a bush instead of out in the open?

  But it was Ron who she was really scared of. He’d be there, she knew. Ready.

  Sure enough, the following morning, when she came out of the shower, there he was; his white floppy belly protruding over his boxers. “So I’m not good enough for you, am I? You’d rather have some druggie instead?”

  Swiftly, Kayleigh pulled out the kitchen knife she’d taken into the shower w
ith her. “Don’t you dare talk about Frankie like that. And if you try to touch me,” she hissed, “I’ll kill you.”

  “What’s going on?”

  It was Mum, all pink-faced in her see-through market nightie that showed her breasts, heavy and drooping. It wasn’t the first time Kayleigh had seen them and each time, she fervently hoped her own wouldn’t end up like that.

  “Your daughter was about to stab me,” roared Ron.

  “Only because he was trying it on with me,” said Kayleigh nervously.

  “No.” Mum’s face crumpled. “You didn’t, did you, Ron?”

  Kayleigh almost felt sorry for her.

  “ʼCourse I bleeding didn’t.” He pointed to the knife, still in her hands. “Can’t you see what she’s got there? It’s not the first time either.” Then he waved his bulky arm. “Look at these cuts. She did that yesterday but I didn’t want to upset you.”

  “Yes, because you tried to touch me up then too.”

  Mum was looking from one to the other. With a horrible sinking feeling, Kayleigh realised she didn’t know which one to believe. “I’m telling the truth, Mum,” she whispered.

  Ron slammed his hand down on the kitchen counter. “Fine. Believe the little bitch. I’ll just go and then who do you think will pay the bills or shag you?”

  He made to storm past but Mum caught him. “Please, Ron, stay.”

  Then she looked at Kayleigh as though she didn’t know her. “You’d better pack your stuff.”

  Surely Mum couldn’t really be saying this?

  “But you promised the police that I’d be at home.”

  Mum faltered. “That was before this.”

  Ron shot her a triumphant look.

  “Just for a few days,” whispered Mum when she came in to Kayleigh’s room with some plastic bags to put her bits in. “He’ll have calmed down by then.”

  If she’d had a dad, Kayleigh told herself, she could have gone to him.

  If Callum wasn’t Inside, she could have gone to him too. “I might only be your half-brother,” he’d yelled out when they’d taken him away, “but I’m always here for you as long as you’re here for me.”

  If she wasn’t scared that Frankie might be mad at her, she’d have tried to visit Callum, wherever they’d put him. But Mum wouldn’t tell her. “That one’s a bad influence,” she sniffed. Mum, Kayleigh knew, was just jealous of the special relationship she had with her brother.

  Still, there was always Marlene.

  It took her friend a while to come to the door and when she did, her face was cold as she took in Kayleigh’s carrier bags in each hand. “Don’t tell me you want to kip here.”

  “They’ve thrown me out. Ron says I tried to have it off with him.”

  She’d expected Marlene to laugh but instead she stood there, crossing her arms on the second floor landing of the flats. “And did you?”

  “ʼCourse not.” Kayleigh couldn’t believe what she was hearing.

  “Well you did with Frankie and now he’s copped it.”

  A horrible tightness crawled over her. “What happened?”

  “They’ve nicked him. Bastards wouldn’t even give him bail.”

  Kayleigh was a bit hazy when it came to prison procedure. Hadn’t Callum pleaded innocent? But he’d still got eighteen months even though she had jumped up in court when they’d read out the verdict and screamed that he was a good, kind brother who didn’t deserve it.

  “What does that mean?”

  “He’s got to stay Inside till the hearing, stupid.” Marlene frowned and Kayleigh could see a large angry zit above one of her brows. “My Pete blames you. It was your statement, apparently, that helped to nail him. There was a bleeding witness too.”

  Poor Frankie. It wasn’t fair. He’d been carried away, just like her. He loved her too. She knew it. As soon as he got out, she’d explained how the policeman’s eyes had made her talk and then it would be all right again.

  Hopefully.

  Below them, some kids were shouting something and then pointing up at her. “Can I stay? Just for a bit?”

  Marlene looked hesitant. “I dunno. Pete would kill me but he’s away for a few days on some job.”

  “So he’s living here now?”

  Her friend nodded, rather smugly. “Mum’s new bloke has got a place of his own so she said I could stay here. Up to me who comes round.” Then her smile went tight again. “You’ll have to clear out before he gets back, though. Blames you, does Pete. Pity you didn’t keep quiet, isn’t it?”

  Kayleigh went to school for the next two days though Marlene didn’t bother. She felt sick, she said, and indeed she did look a bit rough. ʼCourse, Kayleigh offered to stay at home and look after her but Marlene said she was better off alone and ’sides, she could watch telly.

  At least it gave Kayleigh a chance to explain what had happened to her essay to Mr Brown. “My stepdad tore it up after … after we had an argument.”

  Mr Brown flicked back his long brown fringe and gave her a lovely sympathetic look that made her feel warm inside. “Everything all right? Only the head told me that social services had been in touch. I gather there was some trouble.” His voice dropped. “In a park.”

  Kayleigh went beetroot red. Now he’d think she was a slag like the others. “I’m OK,” she said quickly.

  Mr Brown nodded although he didn’t look convinced. “Good. Glad to hear it. Let me know if you need to talk sometime, won’t you?”

  She remembered his words when she got back to Marlene’s and found the door locked. “Go away,” hissed her friend through the flap. “Pete’s back early and if he sees you, he’ll be mad with both of us.”

  “But I haven’t got anywhere to go!”

  “Try your mum again.”

  She didn’t want to but what choice did she have?

  This was funny. Her key wasn’t working. In desperation, she rang the bell. No answer though she swore she could see a curtain twitching.

  Now what? Maybe the local library? After all, she had an essay to write tonight on how poetry could make you feel happy. For a couple of hours, Kayleigh lost herself in some stuff written by someone called Carol Ann Duffy. She’d like to meet her one day. She said just what Kayleigh was feeling inside, but with better words.

  “I’m sorry,” said the librarian’s voice just when Kayleigh was right in the middle of her third page. “But we’re about to close.”

  Her words filled Kayleigh with panic. For a moment, she considered telling the librarian (a nice woman though she didn’t care much for that maroon cardigan) that she didn’t have anywhere to go. But then they might take her back to the police station. So, picking up her bag, she walked towards the automatic door in a way that suggested she was going home to an ordinary family where they all sat round the telly with trays on their knees instead of eating chips out of bags.

  Instead she went to the shopping centre where she wandered round for another hour, looking at all the clothes she couldn’t afford to buy and dreaming of the places she’d wear them too. Those leggings would look good at a Great Cynics gig. And that skirt would be really cool when Frankie got out of prison and they could go out to a posh restaurant.

  Kayleigh had never been out to dinner in her life but she had imagined it so many times that it felt like she had. ‘Vivid imagination,’ her reports always said. Was that a good or bad thing?

  “We’re shutting now,” said one of the security guards, sharply.

  Ten o’clock. There had to be somewhere to go.

  “Need somewhere to kip?” said a voice.

  It was a girl with pink hair and baggy black combats. “Me too. If we wait round the back till they shut up, we can sleep on the steps. It’s not too bad in the summer.”

  And that, thought Kayleigh ruefully, was how she’d ended up here.

  Her new friend was wrong about the breakfast. There were plenty of women going past but not one had offered to give her some money. She should have gone into school but Kayl
eigh felt so cold and weak with hunger that she didn’t have the energy.

  “Here, have some of mine.” The girl in black combats tore off a piece of pizza and handed it to her. “Go on. It’s fresh. Well almost. I skipped it.”

  Skipped it?

  “You know. Got it from the bin outside the pizza place. There’s boxes of stuff there. Most of it untouched.”

  “Does it … I mean could it have a pill inside?”

  The girl stared at her. “You’re weird. Why would it do that?”

  Kayleigh thought back to the pill on Frankie’s tongue. “I don’t know.”

  Then the girl leaped to her feet. “I’m going to have a wash.”

  Her heart leaped. “There’s a bathroom here?”

  The girl laughed. “Sure. It’s massive. The local leisure centre. You can have hot showers if you’ve got £4.20.”

  Kayleigh thought of the empty purse in her school bag. “Maybe see you later.” Never admit your weaknesses, Callum always said.

  She closed her eyes after that. It was easier. You could shut everything out and dream. Maybe if she stayed here long enough, her father might come along. You heard of coincidences happening like that. Someone would have told him what had gone on or maybe he got someone to spy on her to make sure she was all right. He’d save her and take her back to his home and …

  “Excuse me.”

  Kayleigh was suddenly aware of a tall, very elegant woman bending over her with long, blonde hair tied in a loose knot. Bloody hell. Just look at those beige trousers and cream linen jacket. Must have cost a bleeding fortune.

  “Excuse me,” repeated the woman, staring at Kayleigh’s hair and then the bluebird tattoo on her shoulder. “But aren’t you the girl from the park?”

  Chapter Five

  After she’d made her statement to the policeman with the clear blue eyes, Alice had expected Daniel to have had a go at her. Not physically of course because he wasn’t that kind of man or she would never have married him. But verbally.

  If words had been weapons, Daniel would have been an excellent swordsman. Came with the job, she’d always told herself. An academic tended to choose his sentences carefully, like picking exactly the right oranges from a supermarket shelf: another of her husband’s irritating traits.