by Jane Corry
I can barely believe what I am hearing. ‘But that’s not your surname on my list.’
Baker is my surname, though it wasn’t for a while. When Mum married David, she got me to call myself Alison Baker-James. ‘It makes us look more like a real family,’ she said. But double-barrelled names made a kid stand out at my school – not a good idea. So I dropped the Baker bit to please Mum. Alison James. Kitty James. Two sisters. At least, on the surface. Later, in a bid for a new beginning after the accident, I went back to Baker.
That’s what it says on my birth certificate – which I had to send the prison as part of my vetting process. Was it possible that Stefan had somehow got hold of this?
Criminals, Angela used to say, can be very clever at squeezing information out of staff.
There is a shrug. ‘Your mother and I, we do not marry. But I take her maiden name because it is easier for people to understand.’ He laughs hoarsely. ‘In those days, it was even more important to be English.’ There’s a sigh. ‘When they finally take me to prison, they find out my real name.’
I think once more of my birth certificate. My father’s name is not on it. ‘I was very independent in those days,’ my mother had said brightly when, as a teenager, I’d questioned this.
Ironically, I’d approved at the time.
But this man in front of me is clearly insane. My father is dead.
The question is, how do I get away?
‘Please don’t hurt me,’ I whimper.
Stefan’s breathing fast now. ‘Would a father hurt his daughter? I am here, Ali, because I am desperate.’
The whites of his eyes are shining madly in the moonlight streaming in through the half-open curtain. I could scream for help but then he might indeed use that stick. Think of something! Use emotional intelligence. Go along with it. Distract him.
‘If you are really my father,’ I say, ‘why did my mother tell me you were dead?’
There’s another sigh. ‘Lilian. She does not want you to know my shame.’
Lilian? He knows my mother’s name.
‘How dare you?’ Something inside me makes me furious as well as scared. I know I shouldn’t aggravate him but I can’t help it. ‘What right do you have to delve into my life?’
He shakes his head as if I am the one who’s stepped out of line.
‘And what do you mean by shame?’ I thunder on.
‘My own shame,’ he says sadly. ‘It is a thing that no wife or child must bear.’
His hand reaches out to me. It grasps my wrist. He’s going to kill me. I shouldn’t have gone on the offensive. ‘Please,’ I gasp.
‘Trust me,’ he growls. ‘No one will harm you when I am around.’ He lets go. His eyes fill with tears. ‘I do not mean to scare you. You look like my mother. Your grandmother, bless her soul.’ Here he crosses himself. ‘She was tall too. And blonde.’
So are many women. I’m not falling for this, despite his tears. But I must tread carefully. Buy more time until somehow I can raise the alarm. Change tack again. Pretend to be understanding. ‘So, why did you get arrested?’ I ask in a gentler voice.
A tear is sliding down his face. He makes no move to wipe it away. ‘I am art student in Yugoslavia before the war.’ He raises his profile proudly, despite the crying. ‘The Bosnian Serbs, they do not like my political cartoons. They try to put me in prison but my father, he pays all his money to captain of container ship. He takes me to the UK but we are caught at customs. I am put in remand centre. Then I get into fight.’ He pauses. ‘This man, he wants to kill me. So I fight back. I push him and he falls and smashes his head. I didn’t mean him to die …’
‘You killed him?’ I whisper.
He nods. ‘It is regretful but necessary. Then I bribe guard to help me get over wire and I meet your mother in centre for homeless. She is student but works there because she is good person.’ There’s a fond smile. ‘We fall in love and make you. We go on the run for four years but I am caught. The landlord, she is suspicious.’ His fists clench. ‘They send me to prison for murder.’
My head is reeling. Clearly he’s a madman. What’s going to stop him from killing me? And how dare a common criminal pretend to be my father?
‘Ask your mother, Ali. I see you do not believe me. Perhaps she will make you see light.’
There’s a hard look to his face. Yet at the same time, it manages to be sorrowful.
I need to keep him talking. Stop him from attacking me. Play along. ‘And what did you mean about coming here to get to know your daughter?’ I hesitate. ‘It’s as though you engineered our meeting.’
He gives a half-smile. Almost as though he is proud of himself. ‘After I go to prison, I try to obey your mother’s request that I leave her alone. Never make contact. But it troubles me. I write to her when you were eighteen but she never reply. Then not long after, I read about the accident, Ali. Your accident and Kitty’s. It was in the newspapers.’
My head is buzzing. It’s becoming clear now. All Stefan had to do was look up my name when I arrived at HMP Archville. He could easily have got someone on the outside to search for it on the net. He must have discovered the accident that way. There are countless articles online.
Yet what does he want from me?
‘I am glad you are not killed, Ali.’ His eyes are soft. Warm.
This is a dangerous man, I tell myself. A mad man. Be careful.
‘I thank the Lord you are not injured badly like your half-sister.’
I remind myself once more that these are all details that were in the reports at the time.
‘I am in a very strict prison for many years. I do favours for other men – like giving them my food, fixing things – so that when they are released, they owe me.’
He looks at me earnestly.
‘The older I get, the more I need to see you, Ali. To talk to you. To explain. I try to think of a way. My sentence, it has only five more years. So I am moved to another prison.’ He points to the open window. ‘I can breathe at last. I taste fresh air whenever I want instead of piss and shit and sweat in cell. I have more freedom to find out about you.’
‘When is your birthday?’ I ask suddenly.
He looks surprised. ‘Ninth of December. Why?’
I feel a flash of relief. Mum had once told me that my father had been born on the fourteenth of July, although she hadn’t mentioned the year. So this man is definitely lying.
He closes his eyes for a minute as though he’s very tired. Then starts talking again.
‘I hear from friends that you are working here. It seems like fate. I find out that I can request transfer. I say it is because it is near hospital for treating my illness.’ He grins as if pleased with himself.
With a sinking feeling I realize he’s right – I heard about this from Angela. The authorities can move prisoners for personal reasons in extreme circumstances.
‘But why now, if you’ve been watching me all these years?’
‘I tell you already.’ He wheezes heavily at this point. Another dramatic ploy. ‘I get ill. I want to know my daughter. I need to make up for lost time. And I need to protect you too.’
A shiver runs through me. ‘Protect me from what?’
‘This is a bad place, Ali. You are in danger.’
‘How?’
I say it with bluster but inside I am shaking.
‘It is best you do not know. Then you say nothing when they ask you.’
I don’t want to trust him. Yet he hasn’t tried to threaten me. Then a thought strikes me. ‘Did you write those notes?’ I ask.
‘What notes?’
‘Anonymous messages.’ My throat is dry. ‘They implied I was being watched and that someone was out to get me.’
I observe his face closely. It registers genuine surprise. ‘No. Not me.’ He shakes his head. ‘But it means they are after you already.’
‘Rubbish,’ I say, trying to laugh.
He picks up his stick. So I was wrong about this man! I wi
nce instinctively, waiting for the blow.
‘I do not hurt you, Ali,’ he says sadly. ‘When I hear you are staying for the night, I think this is good chance to talk alone. I hope you tell me more about yourself and I tell you about me. But now I see you don’t believe my story.’
There’s a pat on my shoulder. ‘You go, talk to your mother. She know I talk truth. Then we meet again.’
‘Take your hand off me.’
His eyes moisten. There are real tears. ‘Do not you see …’ he begins.
And then the sound of shouting breaks in. Not just one voice but several. Like men drunk after a football match. Door handles are rattling. Hard and furiously.
Stefan sighs. ‘They make hooch again. Alcohol, she does not agree with me,’ he adds. A teetotaller like me? Coincidence, I tell myself fiercely.
Footsteps are marching down the corridor. ‘Order, order!’ I’m safe. Then another thought strikes me. If Stefan is found here he might try to blame me. Say I’d asked him in. Maybe that I’d loosened those bars myself. Criminals, I am learning, will do anything to save their own skin.
‘Go!’ I am pushing him. ‘Please, just leave. It’s safer for both of us.’
He looks sad but, to my utter relief, he starts to move towards the window.
Then he stops. ‘Just one more thing.’ He smiles. ‘Your mother. Does she still smell of lavender?’
39
July 2001
Ali
My mind was whirling as if someone had tipped me upside down and was shaking me. ‘What are you talking about?’ I managed to say.
Vanessa was grinning. Jumping up and down now – from kerb to road and back again – like the excited eleven-year-old she was instead of her usual pretence at being a cool teenager.
‘We were trying to gatecrash the party. So we came in the back, over the fence. Kitty saw you – she tapped on the window to get your attention. We weren’t sure if you’d seen us and wanted to make you promise you wouldn’t tell. Then we realized what you were doing. And to think we all thought you were a good girl!’
My body went cold. Numb.
The tapping on the window which I’d thought was the tree in the wind. Kitty being all friendly to me afterwards – no doubt scared I was going to tell Mum that she was at the party without realizing I hadn’t seen her.
‘I must say, Ali.’ Vanessa had both hands on her hips now. ‘We didn’t think you had it in you, did we?’ She was shooting my sister a ‘come on’ look. ‘How much pocket money do you think our silence is worth, Kitty?’
My sister linked arms with Vanessa now. All chummy again. Up and down. It’s what they were like. It made me glad I’d never had a girl for a best friend myself. Regretfully, I thought of Robin. Placid. Always on one level. But I’d blown that now.
‘Thousands,’ Kitty grinned.
‘Thousands? That’s ridiculous.’
I felt sick. Mum would be so upset. Worse, she’d be disappointed. The thought of that was too much. So too was the idea of my shameful secret coming out in the open. What if they told other people? Supposing Robin heard?
‘You can’t.’
Kitty’s face was bright with spite. ‘Stop me, then.’
That’s the moment when I pushed her. I couldn’t help it. All the anger over the years came out with it. The pain. The hurt. And now the fear. She fell over the pavement and into the road.
She staggered up. ‘Now look what you’ve done.’ My sister’s school dress had a dirty smear on it. It smelt, too. Sickly sweet.
‘Dog shit. Ugh. How can I play in the concert looking like this? You cow!’
‘You can’t tell Mum about Crispin,’ I said desperately. ‘Anyway, if you saw me, why haven’t you told Mum already?’
Vanessa butted in. ‘Because little sister here didn’t want to get you into trouble. Said it would put you off those precious exams of yours. Instead, she had to ruin the whole evening and insist we went back home instead of staying on and having fun.’
Kitty had stood up for me?
‘If it hadn’t been for you,’ spat Vanessa, ‘Crispin would have asked me out. I know he would. He kept looking at me on the bus.’
‘You?’ I laughed out loud. ‘Don’t be ridiculous. You’re eleven years old! Do you honestly think he’d be interested in you?’
Vanessa’s eyes went cold. ‘Why not? Actually, that’s not the secret I was talking about. Come on, Kitty, you tell her or I do …’
Not the secret she was talking about? What did she mean?
‘No,’ said Kitty. She grabbed Vanessa’s arm. ‘Stop. Don’t say any more.’
Vanessa shook her off. ‘Leave me alone. Why shouldn’t I say? I don’t owe you any loyalty. Fine kind of blood sister you are. Ali –’
Roaring in my ears.
Roaring all around.
And then it happened.
40
May 2017
Alison
‘Sorry about the disturbance, miss,’ says the officer, opening my cell door. He has fresh baby skin that doesn’t look as if it belongs here. ‘Some of the men got, well, a bit excited about your presence and began kicking up. Banging the walls between their pads. But it’s sorted now.’
He looks around. The window is still open. Curtain flapping. ‘Everything all right?’
‘Fine,’ I manage to say. ‘Just needed some air.’
‘Hard to breathe inside, isn’t it?’ He glances at the window. Surely he’ll see the bars are missing. But he doesn’t appear to. Weirdly, I find myself praying that Stefan is hiding in the darkness. Why do I want him to be all right?
‘Let me know if you need me. OK? Not long until morning now.’
After he’s locked my cell door again, I go to the window. ‘Are you there?’ I hiss.
Nothing.
Reproaching myself for being so utterly stupid, I sit on the narrow bed and go over everything Stefan said.
I get into fight.
I didn’t mean him to die.
Does she still smell of lavender?
Ninth of December. Fourteenth of July.
I think about the few facts I know from Mum. Dad died when I was three. I barely remembered him apart from that scene with the lavender fields. Had he had a foreign accent then? If so, I don’t remember it. Once, a few years ago, I had looked up my father online. I couldn’t find anything. Then again, I’d been looking for ‘Stephen Baker’.
This is crazy. My father is dead.
Yet another part of me wonders whether it’s time to ask Mum again. Even if Stefan is talking rubbish – which, of course, he is – it’s stirred up the old longings to know more about my dad.
In the morning, when the tannoy announces that it’s time to wake up and the baby-skinned officer finally unlocks my cell for good, I’m tempted to say what had happened. But then how would I explain why I hadn’t raised the alarm when he’d come in during the night? I am still fretting about why I hadn’t told him about Stefan.
‘It seems very quiet now,’ I say instead.
His lips tighten. ‘The troublemakers have been shipped out.’ Then he tries to make a joke as if to lighten the atmosphere. ‘They say the first night in prison is the worst. Just as well you’re not here for longer, eh?’
It’s still early – another half an hour before I officially start class – and the men are queuing up at the post hatch. You can see the ones who don’t have any mail from the dejected faces, swiftly followed by over-casual whistling.
No sign of an old man with a stick.
There is just time to make my way to the car and my precious mobile in the glove compartment. An umbilical cord to the outside world. I’m beginning to see why they’re such hot currency in prison. Mum picks up immediately.
‘Alison? Thank heavens. Something’s happened again.’ Her voice is edgy. Verging on panic.
My heart misses a beat. So Stefan’s got to her too? Or was it just my sister causing trouble with the other residents?
‘Kitty
’s in hospital. She’s bleeding.’
When I finally reach the ward, my mother is waiting in the visitors’ area. I hold her tight. Breathe her in.
Hospitals always bring back all the old feelings after the accident.
Disbelief. Terror. Guilt.
‘She’s OK. There was a lot of blood but she hasn’t lost the baby.’ Mum has two red spots on each cheek; the way she does when upset. ‘She’s having more checks. The good news is that the baby’s heartbeat seems steady.’
‘What caused it?’
Mum blew her nose. ‘They don’t know. When I had a miscarriage, they said it was nature’s way, but that doesn’t really –’
‘What?’ I put a hand on her arm to stop her there. ‘When did you have a miscarriage?’
She shakes her head. ‘I didn’t mean to let that slip out.’ Then she puts her arms around me. ‘Just before I had you, I lost another. A little girl.’ She smiles through her tears. ‘That’s why you’ve always been so precious. And it’s why I was so happy when I had Kitty because I was finally able to give you the sister you deserved.’
She hugs me close. ‘And now Kitty’s having a little girl too. Isn’t that lovely?’
A girl. How I too would love a daughter one day. A little girl to play with. To make up for the sister who had pushed me away. A daughter and a proper father as well.
The question is on my lips. About to come out. Is my father … But a nurse is opening the door. ‘Would you like to see Kitty now?’
Mum bustles along in front of me. I have to rush to keep up.
‘Why aren’t Johnny and his mother here?’ I ask her as we walk down the corridor.
‘It’s not been very easy, apparently. Seems like your sister is playing up a bit.’ Mum sighs. ‘Throwing food around. Shouting at Johnny. That sort of thing. And although they’ve got some carers in, they’re finding it quite tough. Johnny’s mother will come in later but she’s having a rest at the moment.’
Kitty is sitting up in bed. Her face is pale. But it jerks up at me as I come in. There’s definitely a flash of recognition. A string of babble comes out, aimed directly at me.
