by Jane Bidder
Alice jumped up. “I knew you wouldn’t understand. I’d like you to leave now, Janice. Please. Just go.”
But her friend was shaking her head. “Don’t do this, Alice. I’m trying to help you. We’re worried about you. All of us. Brian, I and Daniel …”
“You’ve discussed me with Daniel?”
Janice coloured. “Only about this girl you’ve taken in. It’s crazy. Don’t you see it? You don’t know her. She comes from … from goodness knows what kind of family. She’s a drug addict …
“No she’s not …”
“Well she’s taken drugs anyway. Yet you’re letting her sleep under your roof and allowing her the run of your house – she’s there right now while we speak, isn’t she? She could be stealing things for all you know. And Daniel says you gave her money to go shopping.”
Alice thought of the thin jeans and loafers and the crisp twenty-pound notes. “It’s none of your business.”
“But it is. You’re my friend. And I can’t stand by and see you break down like this.”
Alice pushed away her hand. “A breakdown? Is that what you think I’m having?”
Janice looked sad. “It’s not a criticism. It’s understandable. Many women would break down under the strain you’re under. Brian is furious with Daniel about Monica, if you want to know. Told him he was a bloody fool.”
“Bit rich, isn’t that? Considering he had an affair too.”
Janice looked away. “I didn’t say he did. You just presumed that.”
Shocked, Alice stared at her friend. “You don’t mean you …”
“We were very young. Just married. I wasn’t sure I’d made the right decision.” Janice turned away. “I don’t want to talk about it now. I’m just saying that relationships can be repaired and I wouldn’t want you to muck things up before it’s too late.”
There was a short silence before Janice turned round and touched her arm gently. “As for this other thing … this being abused …” She shivered. “That’s awful! Did you ever report it?”
Alice stared up at the tree, focussing on one particular apple which was almost within reach. When they’d first moved in here, Garth had promptly shimmied right up to the top; causing her to freak out.
“My mother wouldn’t let me.” She gave a little hoarse laugh. “In those days, we did what our parents told us.”
“How long ago was that?”
Janice’s voice was so kind that the answer slid out before Alice could help it. “On the eve of my eighteenth birthday. By a family friend.” She spat his name out in disgust. “Phil Wright.”
“Then report it.”
Alice reached up on tiptoes and pulled the apple off the branch. It came off easily, as though it had been waiting.
“It’s too long ago.”
“No it’s not. The paper’s always full of cases like that. It’s often not until you’re an adult that you have the courage.”
Alice hesitated. Wasn’t that why she was looking after Kayleigh? Because the girl had had the guts to give a statement, outlining the abuse she’d suffered at Frankie’s hands?
So shouldn’t she too show the same courage herself?
“You could ring up that nice policeman who’s always round here,” added Janice, slightly sharply. Was this a test too?
“He’s not always round here,” retorted Alice defensively. Aware of her reddening cheeks, she moved away, biting into the apple. The juice ran down the side of her face. Deliberately, she wiped her mouth on her sleeve, the way Kayleigh had done at dinner the other night, much to Daniel’s disgust.
“If you say so.”
“I do.”
She began to walk back towards the house, Janice running beside her. “It’s worth thinking about, isn’t it?”
“What is?”
“Going down to the police station. I’ll come with you. Goodness, what’s that noise?”
Alice stared at the open window on the second floor. It was Garth’s bedroom. Loud music was coming out of it. A horrible din. The kind that made your ears want to bleed. Exactly the kind of noise – and level – that Garth had played before he’d gone away.
“He’s back,” she called out, breaking into a run. “He’s home!”
Belting up the stairs, two at a time, with an excited Mungo beside her, Alice flew into the room. “Garth –” she began.
And then stopped.
Sitting on the bed, side by side, examining a CD cover, were Kayleigh and Seb.
“What are you doing here?” Alice was so mad, she could barely speak.
Seb sprang to his feet. “I’m sorry, Mrs Honeybun. It was my fault. I came round to see how Kayleigh was doing. We got talking about music and I started telling her about Garth’s amazing CD collection so we thought …”
“You thought you’d go into my son’s bedroom and help yourself.”
Seb had both his hands in his jeans pocket. She couldn’t work out if he was really apologetic or defiant. “Like I said, I didn’t mean any harm.”
“Just like you didn’t mean any harm when you crashed your car.”
Alice began pushing him down the stairs. “You could have killed Kayleigh.”
“Please don’t push me like that.”
“I’ll do what I like. Just like your mother.”
“Alice!” said Janice, appalled. Alice glowered at her friend who was waiting at the bottom of the staircase.
“Go home.” She was quivering with rage now. “Now.”
“What about me?”
A small frightened voice came from behind. It was Kayleigh.
“Not you,” said Alice, more gently. “You can stay.”
Dinner was a terse affair that night. Kayleigh still hadn’t got the hang of a napkin and blew her nose on it before helping herself to the salad bowl, using her fingers.
Alice took one look at Daniel’s face and had to cough in order to hide the giggle which almost escaped. Although quite how she could giggle when Garth was in prison was beyond her. Maybe it was nerves like before, when she’d had coffee with Paul Black.
Another memory floated into her head. A more distant one, recalling a giggle of panic when her father had asked if she’d given Uncle Phil permission to do the things he had. A giggle that her mother had misinterpreted for complicity.
“This is nice,” said Daniel eventually when they got to the apple pie.
“I made the pastry,” burst out Kayleigh excitedly. “Alice showed me. Didn’t you? I didn’t know you could actually do that. Thought it just came from shops.”
Daniel looked as though he wished he hadn’t taken a slice. “So tell me,” he said, putting down his spoon and fork. “When are you going to get a holiday job?”
“Soon as I can.” Kayleigh spoke with her mouth full. Alice, who would have died if Garth had done that, watched with an inexplicable fascination. She also got a disturbing pleasure from her husband’s horrified face. “But it’s difficult out. There’s no work round here and there are hardly any buses to the centre.”
“Our son managed,” retorted Daniel tersely.
“No, he didn’t,” Alice shot back. “He did two days’ work at the garden nursery and then got sacked because he couldn’t get up in time.”
“That doesn’t mean our guest has to sit here all day, without earning her keep.”
He said the word ‘guest’ with a heavy sarcastic emphasis.
“Daniel,” said Alice horrified. “That’s rude.”
“Nah, he’s right.” Kayleigh helped herself to another slice of pie without being asked. “I do need to get a job. I’ll go in tomorrow.”
“I’ll give you a lift,” said Alice quickly. “It’s no trouble. I’ve got something to do.”
Then she stared at Daniel. “What about you. What are you doing tomorrow? Taking Monica out to lunch?”
There was a short dangerous silence. “Alice,” said Daniel warningly. “We agreed not to speak about that for a bit, didn’t we?”
“
You agreed. Not me,” muttered Alice, clearing the plates. Kayleigh jumped up to help. She was learning fast in some areas, if not in others.
“I want you to sleep in the guest room, tonight,” Alice murmured as she picked up Daniel’s. “Do you understand?”
“Any chance I could borrow some more money?” asked Kayleigh on the way in to Plymouth the next morning.
At first, Alice didn’t hear her. She was still distracted with the fact that Daniel had left early, before she’d woken up. It had felt strange but not unpleasant waking up in an empty bed; not having to endure the touch of her husband’s peck on the cheek or the accidental brush of his legs as he got out.
“I’ll need about fifty quid if that’s OK.”
Kayleigh’s words broke through. “Fifty pounds?” she repeated, looking briefly across the car.
“Maybe sixty then, to be on the safe side.” Kayleigh was lying back in the car, her legs up on the dashboard. “I’ve got some books I need to get for my new college course.”
Alice headed for the car park at the back of the shopping centre. “Don’t you have to wait for your results first?”
Kayleigh sniffed. “I’ll be all right. My teacher said I would be. ’Sides, I want to get going with the reading so I’m ahead of the others.”
Alice was so impressed that she decided not to mention the feet on the dashboard. That could wait for another time. “All right.” Pulling into a space at the top of the car park, she reached behind for her bag. Yet another handout! It was just like having Garth at home, except that he didn’t spend his money on books.
“Where are you going to look for a job?”
“A job?” repeated Kayleigh.
Alice felt a quickening of doubt. “Yes. Remember. That’s why we’ve come into the centre.“
“Oh yeah. Right. I’ll just get my books first and then I’ll go round some places.”
Alice didn’t feel reassured. “I’ll meet you back here in two hours. That’s 12.30. All right? Have you got a watch?”
Kayleigh stared at her as though she’d said something odd. “Never had one. But I’ve got my phone.”
Of course. Garth had never used a watch either. Not even the expensive one which her mother had given him for his eighteenth. That reminded her. Alice hadn’t been able to find her own that morning when getting up. Maybe she’d left it in the garden shed again; a common occurrence after weeding.
“Where are you going?”
Alice hadn’t been expecting that. The question threw her. “To see someone,” she said slowly. “Tell me, Kayleigh. Are you glad you told the police about what Frankie did to you?”
“I am now. It made me realise what he was really like, telling someone else about it. If I hadn’t, it would have eaten me up, if you know what I mean.”
Alice’s heart quickened. “I know exactly what you mean.”
She walked as far as the crossroads with Kayleigh and then left her to go into the shopping centre. Then, glancing around, in case there was someone who knew her, she took a sharp left towards the library and then a right. It was a roundabout way to the police station. A place she had only been to once when Garth had lost his A-level coursework and she had gone in, in the hope that someone had handed it in. (They hadn’t.)
A woman with sharp eyes and hair scraped back into a bun, was at the desk. “Is PC Paul Black available?” asked Alice nervously.
“Who shall I say is here?”
“Alice.” Her name came out as though it weren’t her own. “Alice Honeybun.”
She’d expected the woman to say that he wasn’t available. Not on duty or out on a call, perhaps. But after a short wait on a chair, next to a woman who was on her phone constantly (she seemed to be trying to get hold of her solicitor), Alice was rewarded by the sight of Paul Black coming through a pair of doors at the far end of the desk.
“Alice,” he said warmly. “Nice to see you.”
His handshake was firm. They could be acquaintances meeting in a shop or a restaurant. Once more, she thought that this man with the educated voice and slightly tanned face (suggesting a fondness for the outdoors), didn’t sound or look like the stereotyped image of a policeman in her head. Then again, he had been a lawyer – something, she recalled with embarrassment, that she’d disputed because she’d been upset at the time. If it was really true – and there was no reason to doubt it – why had he changed careers?
Suddenly she was aware of his blue eyes holding hers. “What can I do for you?”
The formality made her wish she hadn’t come. He’d been keen enough to chat when he’d wanted her to be a witness. Perhaps she’d outlived her usefulness. Hurt, she found herself unable to speak. The fraught tone of the woman on the chair, looking for a solicitor, increased with panic. (“But she can’t still be in a meeting. I need her.”)
Paul Black’s face was beginning to look serious. “Is it about Kayleigh?”
“No.” She glanced at the woman on the desk who was now dealing with a teenager. The phrase ‘missing phone’ was clear. “It’s about me. About … about something that happened when I was a teenager. The thing they mentioned in court …”
Even as her words died away, Alice was aware of a weight falling off her shoulders. Paul Black’s face softened. “Let’s find somewhere to talk, shall we?” he said.
They went to a room marked Interview Room on the door. “Please sit down.”
Again, she was aware of his good manners and a manner of bearing himself that didn’t seem to fit a policeman on a beat. “Were you really a lawyer?” she found herself asking even though it was irrelevant.
“Yes.” He spoke as though they were guests at a dinner party. “My father expected it. So I stuck it out for a few years until something made me change my mind.”
What, she wanted to ask. But he was picking up a pen; his voice changing from personal to professional. “Why don’t you start at the beginning?”
So she spoke. Slowly at first. But then faster as it all rushed out. Details which she’d forgotten like the colour of Uncle Phil’s shirt (pale blue) and his smell (a sickly aftershave). Suddenly, Alice was on the eve of her eighteenth birthday again. Young. Stupid. Naïve. Too polite.
“He told me to sit down next to him on the sofa,” she whispered, her hands gripping the side of her chair. “I thought it would be rude if I didn’t. Then he began to move towards me. I thought I might be imagining it. That was when he began to touch me.”
Something flickered in those bright blue eyes. A flash of recognition. “You wouldn’t believe how many young girls are abused,” he said softly. “ I think I told you that before, when you made your statement.”
He understood. Relief washed over her.
For a minute, she thought she saw tears in his eyes. “You don’t have to go on,” he added.
“I want to.” She had to force each word out. “I need to. He began to put his hands under my T-shirt so I stood up.” As she said it, she began to re-live each moment as if it was happening right now. “Then he … he pulled me onto the carpet. I remember thinking that I didn’t realise he was so strong. He wasn’t a tall man. And then … and then …”
She was there, now. Crying out. “No, No.”
Or was it a “Yes?” like her mother had insisted afterwards. Had she really led Phil along by going round, wearing a T-shirt with a low neckline? Was it actually all her fault?
“No.” Paul’s nails were digging into his hand, she could see. “It’s what young girls think. But it’s not.”
“I felt …” She stopped.
“Dirty?” His eyes were full of sorrow.
“Yes! And I was sure that somehow, without realising, I must have led …”
Again, she couldn’t complete her sentence. Paul did it for her. “Led him on? Is that what you mean, Alice?”
She nodded, choked with gratitude.
“Everything you’re describing is very common. You’re not alone, Alice. You must believe that.”
&
nbsp; “Then why wouldn’t my parents believe me?”
“Ah. That.” A resigned look came over his face. “I see that too. Parents often feel guilty themselves. They think they should have been around to protect their children. Some find the guilt so horrendous that they deny that it even happened.”
Alice hadn’t thought of that. “Phil said my parents wouldn’t believe me. And he was right. Mum blamed my vivid imagination. I was good at stories, you see. Dad used to be proud of it – said I was a natural writer. But I wasn’t making this up. I wasn’t …”
“Shhhh. Shhhh. I know. I believe you.”
He believed her! He believed her even though he hardly knew her. Not like Mum. Or Dad. Or Daniel. Paul’s deep, gravelly voice felt like it was holding her hand. It felt comforting. Reassuring. Solid.
“After that …”
She stopped. “After that, I couldn’t bear anyone to touch me again.” A huge regret swept over her for Gordon. A decent, kind boy who would have been good to her, if only she could have let him.
“But I wanted to get married. I craved the security and I wanted children. So I married Daniel. He was older, ten years older. We met at university. I’d dropped out of my own course in Fine Arts, unable to concentrate after what … what had happened. So I moved to London and took an admin job through an employment agency. By chance, it happened to be in his department.”
For a moment, she fell silent, remembering the calm, quiet, bookish man who had asked her out to dinner. Rumour had it that this gentle, well-mannered, bookish man in his early thirties was recovering from a broken engagement. “He seemed to respect me when I said I didn’t want to sleep with him until we were married.”
As she spoke, Alice knew she should feel embarrassed. How could she talk about sex to a relative stranger? But it seemed quite natural.
“So you got married, not because of the physical side, but because you needed security after what had happened?” It was more of a statement than a question.
She willed him to look at her again. “How did you know?”
He gave a sad smile. “Because it’s a very common pattern. So too is a delay in reporting it. Some women wait for years until something triggers them into taking action. What made you come here now, after all this time?”
