by Jane Bidder
There was a small sigh next to her. “The defence is arguing that the girl has a history of making things up.”
“But if I testify in court to tell them what I saw?”
“Then that might be enough.” His blue eyes locked with hers. What was it about them? Every time she tried to look away, they were there. Fixed on her.
“It won’t be pleasant. The other side will try to discredit you. They will attempt to case slurs on your own character. Make you look like an unreliable witness.”
They were standing now by the undercliff where generations of lovers had carved their names into the cliff. Mungo was waiting patiently; his expression clearly saying “Isn’t it time to go home?”
“I have to ask you this, Alice. Is there anything in your life, past or present, that might make the jury doubt your word?”
Silently, she considered the waves, bursting into white crinkly lines onto the sand. The tide was going out, leaving vast tracts of virgin sand. Pure and untroubled. Just as she had been, before Phil had sullied her. It was him who had lied. She was innocent.
“No,” she said firmly, bending down to put Mungo on the lead again. “No there isn’t.”
“And are you prepared to take the stand as a witness?”
She straightened, facing him fair and square. “Would it help the girl?”
Even as she spoke, Alice knew the answer.
“Not just her but others too. This youth …” Paul Black stopped and she had the feeling he wanted to call him much worse. “This youth will continue to hurt other girls if we don’t stop him.”
That was it then.
“I’ll testify.” Her voice rang out clearly into the evening air.
“Good.” He looked relieved. “I promise you, Alice, that we will offer you protection.”
She felt alarmed. “But you said earlier that witnesses rarely got threatened.”
He looked away. “Not usually. But that doesn’t mean we don’t have to be careful.”
Of course she should tell Daniel. But when she returned that evening from the walk, there had been a note.
Gone out for drink.
Daniel rarely went out for a midweek drink. He hadn’t said who with, either, though instinct told her it was probably Brian, Janice’s husband.
Alice checked her watch. What time was it in South America? It would be expensive to ring rather than Skype but what the hell? He wouldn’t answer anyway. Kids never did nowadays. They just texted every now and then; usually when they needed something.
“Garth?” She was astounded when he picked up. Usually he had it switched off. “You’re there?”
“What’s wrong, Mum?”
He sounded sleepy. She must have woken him.
“Nothing. I just wanted to hear your voice. Are you OK?”
“Sure.” He sounded a bit spaced out. “You?”
“Yes. Garth, there’s something I want to ask you.”
This was crazy. When had she ever asked for her son’s advice?
There was a heavy sigh. “If you want to know if I’m doing drugs, Mum, the answer is no.”
“It’s not that. I need your help.”
He laughed. “You need my help?”
She swallowed. “If someone asked you to do something that you knew you should do, but which might make you look very foolish, would you do it?”
“Is this a test question, Mum?”
“No.” For a minute, she visualised giving evidence in court. Imagined the other side discrediting her as a witness, thanks to an old man’s word against hers all those years ago. “I just want to know.”
There was a pause, during which she wondered if he was still there. Then he spoke. “I’d do the right thing. At least I think I would because that’s the way you’ve brought me up.”
Alice felt a flood of gratitude. So something had gone in after all during all those years. “Thanks.”
“Sure you’re OK, Mum?”
His concern was sweetly touching.
“Certain. What about you? You will be safe out there, won’t you?”
Her son’s voice in a place she could not picture suddenly struck a horrible fear in her chest. She’d been worried before, of course, but hearing him made it so much worse, instead of better. Part of her wanted to catch a plane and bring him back safely so he wouldn’t end up in trouble like Kayleigh.
“Of course I’ll be safe.” She could tell he’d had enough nagging. “Look, I’ve got to go. There’s a party on the beach.”
“Skype at the weekend?” she said desperately.
“If I can.”
She wanted to hold his voice. Cradle it as she had cradled his body as a baby.
“Love you.”
“Love you too.”
Reluctantly, she put down the phone. Then she picked up the receiver again; fingers shaking as she pressed the familiar digits.
“Mum? It’s me.”
Alice took a deep breath. “You win. I’ll come with you to see Uncle Phil.”
Chapter Ten
Kayleigh followed the old man down the road, past the library. The rain was lashing so heavily that she could hardly see where she was going. It pierced her skin like lots of small needles all attacking her at the same time.
Once, as a small child, Kayleigh had found a needle under her half-brother’s mattress. When she’d told him, Callum had held her by the wrists fiercely and told her that if she ever, ever split on him, something bad would happen to her. Then he’d released her and given her a hug and said she didn’t need to worry ’cos he knew she’d do the right thing.
“Not much further now,” Mr Morris was saying.
What was she doing, going back with a stranger? But he was ancient, wasn’t he? So he had to be all right. Marlene had a nan round the corner who was always slipping her a tenner and telling her what a lovely girl she was. Kayleigh would have liked a nan too but Mum didn’t know where she was any more. There hadn’t seen much point in asking about a granddad. “Men don’t stick around in our family,” her mother was always saying as though it was a fact instead of something to waste time over.
Anyway, this old man had been researching his family history. You wouldn’t get a murderer doing that.
She wasn’t even that worried about the dog any more. Even though it was pretty big, it seemed a lot nicer than any others she’d come across. Certainly different from the one that had bitten her as a child. This one had a rather cute white streak down its chest and kept looking up at her as though to say “Come on, then.”
“Here we are!” The old man stopped suddenly outside a small metal gate. Kayleigh brushed the soaking wet hair out of her eyes and stared at the neat front garden with yellow flowers, bowed with the rain, along the borders. It was a bungalow. Really nice with lots of little stones on the wall and a tall, neat hedge dividing it down the middle.
“That’s my neighbour’s.” He pulled out a key from his pocket. “Deaf as a post, she is, thank the Lord. The previous one used to complain about Jack barking till the council moved her. In you go.”
Ahead, was a long thin corridor with doors leading off it and a smell that reminded her of a fur coat that Marlene’s nan had given her for her twelfth birthday.
“Go inside, love. Make yourself at home. We’ll soon get you dry. Give us a tic and I’ll find you some dry clothes.”
Only now, with the door shut behind her, did Kayleigh experience a twinge of alarm. Find her some dry clothes? What if he expected her to get undressed for him?
Fucking hell. The door was locked. She couldn’t get out if she wanted to. A cold panic folded itself through her.
“These should do.”
Mr Morris was coming out of a room at the bottom of the corridor, carrying a pile of stuff. “These belonged to my daughter before she left home.” His eyes looked her up and down. “Might be a bit big for you but they’re better than nothing.”
Her mouth was dry with fear. “Why did you lock the door?” she said in
a half-whisper.
His glasses winked at her in the hall light. “Always do, when I go to bed. It’s not a bad area but you never know, do you?”
“Then why are you being nice to me?” Kayleigh still didn’t get it. “You don’t know me, either.”
He gave a sad smile. “See that photograph?”
A girl in a long cloak and some kind of fancy hat smiled down at her. “That was my Sandra on her graduation day. She lives in Australia now. Miss her, I do, especially now the wife’s gone.”
He looked down at the dog who was sitting, his face fixed on the old man’s like he’d do anything for him. Kayleigh felt a sudden longing for someone – even an animal – to look at her like that. The closest she’d come to it was in the park when Frankie had told her she was the most beautiful girl he had ever seen.
At least, she thought that’s what he had said. It was difficult to remember exactly.
“I’ve got a boyfriend,” she said suddenly. “We’re going to find a place of our own, one day.”
OK. So it wasn’t exactly true but it felt good to say it. Maybe when Frankie got out, it might even happen.
“That’s nice. Where is he now?”
Kayleigh didn’t want to admit he was in prison. It could give the wrong idea about him. “Away.”
The glasses winked again under the hall light. “Let’s not hang around then. You’ll want to get changed. You can have the first room on the left.” He pushed open the door. “It belonged to my Sandra.”
Wide-eyed, Kayleigh took in the huge bed and the teddy, sitting upright on the pillow. There was a bookshelf too! Just look at all those rows and rows of paperbacks, neatly stacked in order of height. The tidiness made her feel safe again.
“Like reading, do you?” he asked, watching her face light up.
She nodded keenly. “’Specially poetry. We’re doing Roger McGough at school.”
“Don’t know him myself. I’m a Wordsworth man. Anyway, I’ll leave you to it. Bathroom’s next door. Do you want to eat or wash first?”
Both, she wanted to stay but her tongue stuck to the roof of her mouth in a mixture of gratitude and shyness.
“Maybe wash first,” he chipped in, handing her a towel. You’ll find the lock a bit sticky, mind. When you’re ready, come into the kitchen – that’s the room opposite – and we’ll have a bite to eat.”
Kayleigh could hardly believe it. Here she was, sitting at a proper table, eating spaghetti rings with an old man who could be her granddad. The dog was sitting by her side, waiting for titbits although Mr Morris had already warned her not to give in.
“He’ll give you his big doe eyes but it’s all part of the act. He eats after us. It’s part of his training.”
Sounded a bit harsh to her but something told Kayleigh that she shouldn’t disagree. After dinner, he started to wash up. “Want to dry?” he asked, handing her a cloth with a picture of an island on it and the name Ventnor written above. Was that a place or a meaning? Maybe the former, judging from the picture of the sea. Kayleigh was so busy admiring the cloth that the plate almost slipped out of her hand. She caught it just in time.
“Sorry.” She flushed deeply. “I’m not used to this. Usually we just chuck out the takeaway containers.”
Mr Morris’s old hands, wrist deep in the suds, paused. “Live with your parents, do you?”
“Just my mum and her bloke.” The glass of wine he’d given her to go with the meal made her less shy than before. “It’s why I had to leave. He was … he wasn’t very friendly to me.”
Best, she told herself, not to mention the hostel and the running away and the shoplifting. It would only complicate things.
“I see.” He handed her a plate and this time, she managed to dry it without any problems. “Sounds as though you’ve had a bit of a rough time.”
Kayleigh shrugged. “It will be all right when my boyfriend gets out …”
Too late, she realised she’d given it away.
“In the nick, is he?” Those glasses glinted again in the light.
Kayleigh felt her body burning up with embarrassment. “He’s waiting to go to court. But the thing he’s accused of, well it’s a mistake. It will be all right.”
The old man’s lips tightened as he dried his hands on a towel hanging from the side of the sink from a proper hook. “That’s as maybe. Now I don’t know about you but I like watching the Discovery Channel on the box.” He made a little bow indicating she should go first. “Want to join me?”
It was quite cosy, really, even though Marlene would really laugh if she saw her sitting on a chair, next to an old man and his dog, watching a programme on elephants. She hadn’t realised how old they got or how clever they were. Just look at that small boy on top of that huge beast, steering it with his toes.
“Incredible, isn’t it?” Mr Morris stood up at the end and switched it off. “Time for bed now.” He looked at her steadily. “There’s just one thing.”
Kayleigh’s heart began to pound. Of course there was. How bloody stupid had she been. Swiftly she glanced at the window. They were on the ground floor. She could smash it and run.
“My eyes are fading now.” He took off his glasses, wiped them disappointedly, and then put them back. “Would you mind reading to me, when I’m in bed. It’s the only way I can get to sleep.”
Then he added. “It’s all right, Kayleigh. I won’t hurt you. Promise.”
The sensible part told her not to be so bloody stupid. What if he tried to drag her into bed with him? Then again, he wasn’t very big. She could fight him off. Yet deep down, she had a feeling he was telling the truth. The poor bugger just wanted someone to read to him. The way Marlene’s nan had done.
“OK,” she heard herself saying. “What are we reading then?”
“Jungle Book,” he said, triumphantly. “Ever read it?”
“Saw the video once.”
“The video?” He shook his head. “Wait till you hear the words. Pure magic. Poetry.”
‘Sounds great,” began Kayleigh excitedly but she could tell the old bloke wasn’t listening. Instead, his eyes were focussed on the blank wall in front as though he could see something. Then he gave a little smile and looked away. “Used to read it to my daughter, I did. Every night.” Then he looked at her expectantly, his body tucked up under a blue blanket with, she could see, proper sheets underneath. “Ready?”
He was right. They were magic. Sitting beside the old man’s bed with his shelves of books and rows of toy cars (“a hobby of mine – drove the wife mad, it did”), Kayleigh found herself in another world. Mowgli’s character reached out to her and as for that horrible snake, she just wanted someone to tell it where to get off.
The reading worked too. Mr Morris found it hard to get to sleep, he said. But he was asleep now, snoring away. The dog had settled down too in his basket in the corner of the room. Kayleigh felt a bit odd, here all alone in a place she didn’t know.
Still, at least she was warm and dry. Outside the rain was lashing down, even harder than before. If it wasn’t for the old bloke, she’d be out in it right now. Kayleigh shivered with relief. Then, tiptoeing back to the daughter’s bedroom, she couldn’t resist going through some of the stuff on the shelves and in the little wooden dressing table.
Wow. Her fingers found themselves picking up a snapshot of a girl with short dark hair, grinning, standing next to a couple. The bloke had sandy hair and glasses and the woman had a plain but kind face. Was that Mr Morris and his dead wife?
Then she stopped. There was a black file in the drawer with lots of newspaper articles inside. One fell out. It was a clipping from a local paper.
MAN ON TRIAL FOR MURDER OF BRITISH GIRL IN AUSTRALIAN OUTBACK
Curiously, Kayleigh read on.
A 27-year-old sheep shearer is on trial for the murder of 23-year-old Sandra Morris who was found, bludgeoned to death, near Alice Springs last month. The student was a British teacher from Plymouth who was on an exchange year.
Her parents are understood to have gone out to Australia to give evidence. ”
Kayleigh’s eyes filled with tears. Poor thing. And poor Mr Morris. That’s why it was important to have an imagination. Because it helped you get through the real, shitty bits of life.
She woke in the morning to sun streaming through the curtains and the smell of coffee. That was weird. Her bedroom door was slightly ajar even though she could have sworn she’d shut it last night.
On the back of the door there was a large dressing gown; a maroon one that felt very soft. Wrapping it round her, she made her way to the bathroom. “I’ve left a towel out for you,” came the old man’s voice from the kitchen. “When you’re ready, come and join me for breakfast.”
The shower was really complicated. She had to turn the lever and fiddle around with a really stiff dial before the water got to the right temperature. That was nice. Kayleigh felt much cleaner now. When she got back to her room, she found her own clothes dry and neatly folded on the bed. Mr Morris must have gone in when she was in the bathroom. Still, it was his place, wasn’t it?
“Thanks,” she said, coming into the kitchen. “For drying my stuff.”
Her host waved a hand as though it was nothing. “You look a lot better this morning, my dear, if you don’t mind me saying. Now how about a nice rasher of bacon with a fried egg?”
Bacon? Bloody hell. That would be a real treat. As soon as the plate was put in front of her, she fell on it.
“What do you normally have for breakfast?” he asked, watching her bolt it down.
“Toast,” she said, swallowing her mouthful hastily so she could talk politely. “But that’s only if my stepdad, Ron, isn’t around. If he is, I get something on the way to school.”
“Why’s that?”
“’Cos I don’t like being near him.”
Mr Morris studied her for a moment. “Are you saying he’s violent to you?”
“He tried it on with me.”
His brows met. Instantly, Kayleigh wished she’d kept her gob shut. “Can’t you report him to someone? A teacher perhaps?”
Kayleigh laughed. “Mum would say I was making it up.”
