Storms

by Menon, David

  ‘There’s no excuse for the kind of violence we’ve seen from the Gorton boys, Melanie’.

  ‘It’s what they feel, Jeff’.

  ‘And I hear white youths in other areas articulating the same problems, Melanie’.

  ‘Well maybe they don’t have the cards stacked against them like our boys do’.

  ‘Melanie, how do you think they get in that state in the first place? They live on estates that are kept in a far worse condition than I’ve seen round here’.

  ‘Me and the rest of the women take pride in our neighbourhood and like to make it look nice. But when it comes to our boys, the rest of society has rejected them and expects them to fail’.

  ‘Yes, and they prove those cynics right’ said Jeff. ‘They play into their hands. Look Melanie, I’m a mere police officer. I can’t change the world. All I do is uphold the law with due fairness to everyone. But if this community can start working with us instead of believing we’re part of some grand conspiracy against you then we can start to turn things round’.

  ‘Will the alleged wrongdoings of the Gorton boys be placed in the past so that we can move on?’

  ‘You’re talking about immunity from prosecution?’ Jeff questioned. He was surprised she’d been as blunt as that and from an intelligent woman such as her it wasn’t what he would’ve expected. She was chancing it. She knew what the answer would be and yet he was also surprised at how relatively co-operative she was being considering how belligerent she’d been previously. What was motivating this turn around? Jeff didn’t allow himself to think that it was just his charm.

  ‘Yes’ said Melanie. ‘How else could we move on?’

  ‘That’s way beyond my remit, Melanie, and something I just couldn’t promise you or even comment about’.

  ‘Just as I thought’ said Melanie. ‘At least you’re honest and I admire that in a man. Now, shall I make us some tea?’

  ‘Only if it’s not too much trouble, Melanie?’

  Melanie stood up. ‘When you’re a mother who’s buried her child nothing seems to be much trouble’.

  ‘I can understand how that feels’ said Jeff.

  ‘You lost your wife. That’s how you can understand. You were a husband and I was a mother who devoted herself to her child instead of going off and chasing a career like so many women do these days. They neglect their children’.

  This was where Jeff had sympathy with Rebecca Stockton’s perspective on Melanie Patterson. If she’d been the mother of all mothers as she claimed to have been then how come her son did end up a mindless thug? She was deluded. It was part of being a mother in the middle of gang activity on some of Manchester’s toughest streets. Melanie Patterson had to believe that she’d done everything right. It was the only truth she could hold onto. But could it be, like Royston Albright had said, that Melanie did actually play a significant role in the activities of the Gorton boys?

  ‘You hold some strong views, Melanie’.

  ‘I’m a woman of traditional values, Jeff’.

  And what shape did those traditional values take, thought Jeff as he sat waiting for Melanie to return with the tea. When she did come back everything that was presented was pristine as Jeff had expected. The silver spoons, the bone china cups and saucers, the matching teapot, sugar bowl and milk jug.

  ‘It must be hard for someone like you to bring up a child on your own and with the kind of job you’re in’ remarked Melanie as she handed Jeff his tea. ‘But surely there must be someone else in the picture? A good looking man like you wouldn’t be short of suitors’.

  Jeff smiled. ‘You make me blush, Melanie’.

  ‘I speak as I find’.

  ‘Well if there are then I’m not good at reading the signals’.

  ‘You’ve closed down that side of yourself’.

  ‘Probably’.

  ‘Then it’s about time you turned it back on again’.

  ‘Now you really are making me blush, Melanie’ said Jeff. ‘Tell me, did Leroy have a girlfriend?’

  ‘No’ said Melanie, firmly. ‘He did not’.

  ‘You seem pretty sure about that?’

  ‘You asked me the question and I gave you the answer’ said Melanie. ‘And just when the conversation was starting to get interesting. I’m lonely just like you, Jeff. And I know what it’s like to lose the one you love’.

  ‘Look Melanie you’re a very attractive woman and I’m flattered by the attention but I have to keep things professional between us’ said Jeff. There was no way anything could happen between him and Melanie Patterson. She could end up being a suspect. ‘I should go, Melanie’.

  ‘I understand’ said Melanie. ‘With all your talk of professionalism you know you’ve got to move on and yet you don’t want to let go of the past either’.

  Jeff breathed in deep. She was right and yet she was also so very wrong. ‘Thank you for the tea. I’ll be in touch’.

  As soon as Jeff was gone Melanie’s back door opened and her nephew Jackson Williams came in. Melanie took the tray of tea things back into the kitchen.

  ‘Well? Jackson Williams questioned.

  ‘Well what, young man?’

  ‘Has the copper gone?’

  ‘Yes he’s gone’ said Melanie who placed the tray down on the kitchen table before turning to Jackson.

  ‘So you’ve finished trying to make out with him?’

  Melanie was incensed by the way Jackson sometimes spoke to her. ‘I will do whatever I can to find the killer of my son and don’t you forget that if you want to stay under my roof. Now, have you found anything out?’

  ‘No’ Jackson replied. ‘Nothing at all’.

  ‘Well that’s just not good enough! Now get back out there and keep on sniffing. Because if the police find Leroy’s cheap little white slut of a girlfriend before I do then you’ll really see what I’m capable of. She caused my Leroy’s death. And one way or another she’s going to pay’.

  Before Jeff left the estate he decided to have a look at Evelyn Squires’ house. It was only a couple of streets away from Melanie Patterson and he wanted to get his bearings. But when he got there it looked like it had been hit by a bomb.

  The front door was falling off its hinges. He stepped inside and was immediately confronted by a tall dark haired white man in his mid to late forties in blue jeans, training shoes and a brown casual leather jacket. There was also a woman of about the same age looking anxiously at him from inside the living room.

  ‘So who the fuck are you?’ the man demanded. Jeff could see he’d been crying but the tears had clearly turned into a sharp anger. His voice also carried a slight accent that wasn’t local.

  Jeff held up his warrant card. ‘I’m detective superintendent Jeff Barton and … ‘

  The man threw up his arms in despair, turned and walked back into the living room, stepping over the mess as he went. ‘… the police? What a fucking joke!’

  ‘Sir, would you like to calm down and tell me who you are?’

  The man turned but said nothing. Then the woman spoke.

  ‘John, please give him your name’ she implored with the same accent as her husband. ‘He might be able to help’.

  The man took a second or two and then spoke in a much softer voice than before. ‘I’m John Squires. This is my wife Antonia’.

  ‘And Evelyn Squires was your mother?’

  John nodded.

  ‘Yes she was’ Antonia confirmed. ‘She was John’s mother’.

  ‘Mr. and Mrs. Squires, I really am very sorry for your loss’.

  ‘Thank you, detective’ said Antonia. ‘But if Evelyn’s death in the circumstances it happened wasn’t bad enough we come here this morning and find that her house has been broken into and looted’. She put her hand to her mouth and was clearly holding back the tears. ‘It’s so cruel’.

  ‘Have you called 999?’

  ‘What a stupid waste of time that would be’ John sneered. ‘You’ve no control over these streets. Somebody should come in he
re and show them just who is the boss but because of all the politically correct bullshit everybody is too scared to confront the truth. It wouldn’t have happened back home in the old days before the rest of the world made us go soft’.

  ‘John, would you please stop swearing’ said Antonia.

  ‘I’m sorry’ said John. ‘But there isn’t much left for me to express how I feel’.

  Jeff used his mobile to call the incident in and then carried on talking to the Squires. ‘My colleagues will be here as soon as they can to take statements from you’. He looked round at all the mess. ‘Is everywhere in the house like this?’

  ‘Her bedroom is even worse’ said Antonia. ‘Then there are windows broken everywhere. All her possessions ransacked and most of them stolen’.

  ‘Including her ring’ said John. He wiped his big hand over his mouth. ‘My father gave her that eternity ring before they got married. She’d only taken it off because of the arthritis in the joints of her fingers. Now it’s gone forever’.

  Antonia crossed the space between her and her husband and rested her head on his shoulder in a gesture of comfort.

  ‘We begged her to come and live with us’ John continued, holding his wife’s hand. ‘We live down in Cheadle and there’s enough room upstairs for us to have built her a Granny flat. But she was proud. She was so bloody proud and where did it get her?’

  ‘Mr. Squires, I can assure you that I personally am determined to bring what happened to a just conclusion’ He handed them his card. ‘Please call me anytime and I’ll respond to you. I’ll also keep you informed of any progress in the investigation’.

  Antonia smiled. ‘Thank you again, detective’.

  ‘I have no faith in the police, detective’ said John. ‘I’m sure you mean well and you’ll do all you’ve been trained to do but the fact is, like I said before, you have no control of these streets. The black youths write their own laws and run bloody rings round you’.

  ‘John, that’s enough, darling’ said Antonia.

  ‘But it’s true, Toni’.

  ‘Mr. Squires, you talked before about back home?’ said Jeff who was struggling to keep his patience against such a blatantly racist onslaught. He put it down to the man’s grief exploding all the rest of his emotions. ‘Where were you talking about?’

  ‘My family emigrated to Rhodesia long before the country was handed over to that evil thug Mugabe. He ended up taking our farm off us. We lost everything. Then my father died, my mother got sick so we came back so she could use the NHS. But she didn’t recognise her own country anymore. So many different bloody races everywhere. It appalled her. She hated what her country had turned into with all the traditional values gone and everything ruled by Brussels. If you don’t get whoever did this to my mother detective then believe me I will’.

  Jeff began to wonder if all this bluster from Squires was hiding something else. Could he have been involved in the murder of Leroy Patterson? He certainly had the motive and his rage was clear and understandable. But would he be as blatant as to come back onto the estate when somebody could’ve recognized him?

  ‘I would strongly advise you not to take the law into your own hands, Mr. Squires’ said Jeff. ‘You know what the consequences of that would be’.

  ‘You do your job, detective’ said Squires. ‘And I won’t have to’.

  STORMS FOUR

  Back in the old days he’d been ‘well in’ with the council. All the lads who worked for them were. But it was all so different now. It was all so different now. Most of them down at the council wouldn’t know him beyond a reference number and wouldn’t care either.

  The two ulcers on the side of his leg were being troublesome little bastards. They weren’t big. But they knew how to shoot pain through him like an automatic charge of electricity and boy oh boy they itch as if they were being used to torture him.

  Monica was his community nurse. She came round to attend to patients like him who couldn’t get down to the clinic. A little on the large side but Monica was a decent English girl. She wasn’t some freeloading foreigner. He could understand her and she could understand him. She’d make a good matron when the time came.

  ‘So how are you today, Ralph?’ asked Monica as she began to set up her things on the floor beside his feet.

  ‘Well once you’ve dressed my blessed ulcers I’ll be fine for at least half an hour until they drive me mad again with itching’.

  ‘Well I’m going to apply a different cream today so I’m confident you’ll be itch free for longer than you’ve been used to’ said Monica. ‘Are you taking care of yourself otherwise?’

  ‘Well at over eighty years old I am thinking of giving up the dancing girls of an evening’ said Ralph. ‘I was getting bored with that whole scene anyway’.

  Monica laughed. ‘I’ll bet you were one for the ladies in your day, Ralph’. She took off his shoes and socks and held her breath. There was always a whiff of a rancid smell from his exposed feet. ‘You’ve still got that gleam in your eye’.

  ‘You flatter me, Monica. Just like I expect your husband could flatten me if he thought I was flirting with you’.

  ‘He’s not the jealous type I’m happy to say’ said Monica as she wiped her hands. ‘I couldn’t cope with a husband like that’.

  ‘Monica, can you do me a favour?’

  ‘Of course if I can. What is it?’

  ‘I need you to post me a letter’.

  Monica frowned. ‘Is it to the police?’

  ‘Yes and don’t look at me like that’ said Ralph. ‘It’s my duty as a citizen to report what I see and I know I’m just a stupid old man who they probably won’t listen to but I’ve got to try’.

  Ralph’s flat was on the first floor of a housing association building on the other side of the main road from the main entry slip road into the Gorton estate. It gave him a panoramic view of much of the estate and a vantage point that would be the envy of anyone trying to control it. He was surprised that nobody had noticed and come to see him. He would’ve been prepared to accept any offer for his silence. He wasn’t so daft as to not take advantage of the modern way of doing things round here and they say Barbados would be a lovely place for someone who hasn’t had a holiday for years. But nobody had noticed and even if they had they hadn’t been to see him. So that’s why he was turning to the police.

  ‘Ralph’ Monica began on her knees beside his chair. ‘Think about this. You could potentially be bringing a whole load of trouble on yourself’.

  ‘I don’t care’.

  ‘But you should care, Ralph. It could be very dangerous. Who knows what they might do if they found out it was you’.

  ‘I’m doing my civic duty, Monica. This letter is important’.

  ‘Ralph, I’m scared of the repercussions. Don’t you see what I mean?’.

  ‘You shouldn’t be scared. I’m not. I’d be going out with some sort of a bang to make up for the unremarkable life I’ve had’.

  Ralph had been too young to see action during World War 2 but he had done his national service and that’s where he’d met Edith. She’d worked in the dining hall where the soldiers had all their meals on the base where they were stationed. She used to clear up the plates and glasses and wash them up in the kitchen. She’d caught Ralph’s eye and one day he’d plucked up enough courage to ask her out. She’d said yes and within a year they were married. They moved into a council house in Denton when Ralph returned to civvy street and they had two daughters. Ralph never got a sense that Edith was desperately unhappy. She never wanted to go anywhere. Ralph got about because of his job driving vans for the council but he went beyond the borough. Edith always said she was happy in her little home and even when Ralph talked her into a week’s family holiday in Rhyl they had to come back on the Tuesday because Edith was missing her ‘little home’. The girls sided with their mother like they always did and even when Edith left Ralph for an insurance salesman with a much bigger private, detached ‘little home’ in Clitheroe
they still took their mother’s side. Now he only sees them when they drop in a week before Christmas with a card and a bottle of whisky. They always watch the door and look at their watch every couple of minutes as if they can’t wait to leave again and they make all manner of excuses as to why they can’t have him for the festive season. He’d never understood what he’d done to make him so distant. He’d been a good father and provided for him as much as he could. He’d taken an interest in their schoolwork and what they were doing. He’d never hit them or treated them badly in any way. But still they’d given all their affection to their step-father who had money and who ended up seeing far more of Ralph’s grandchildren than he ever did.

  ‘At least I’d know something would be happening in my otherwise stale and boring old life’ Ralph went on. ‘What difference would anything else make?’

  Monica could feel her heart breaking. She knew what Ralph meant but she really didn’t think he’d weighed up the possible consequences of what he wanted to do. She’d seen what they do on the Gorton estate. It was like a war zone in parts of it.

  ‘So will you post my letter, please, Monica?’

  Monica put the letter in her pocket and smiled. She had no intention of posting it. If Ralph couldn’t see where it could all lead then she could and she had to protect the poor old man. ‘Okay’ she said. ‘Seeing as it’s you’.

  Annabel Matheson had been through Hell these past few weeks and months. Everything that could’ve gone wrong for her had gone wrong for her and she wished she could step back in time to when she first discovered boys and life had held such promise. Now she was a failure. Forty-two years old without a penny in the bank and not even owning the roof over the head of herself and her son. It had been a sudden plunge into darkness. She’d gone from being the socially upwardly mobile wife of a very British small businessman to being the very socially downward single Mum with a fourteen-year old son to take care of after her husband cleared off leaving her with thousands of pounds worth of debt to clear. She should’ve known it would turn out this way. Her now ex-husband Clive had once gone bankrupt before. She’d stood by him then. Everything to do with his building business and all his bank accounts and credit cards had all gone into Annabel’s name and he’d carried on with nothing on the surface to show that he was an undisclosed bankrupt. She’d been happy to show him the faith that no bank would because, despite the doubts that had been slowly growing inside her head, she was still in love with him and blinded by her affections. It had taken a visit from the bailiffs at six in the morning when they’d taken everything but the kitchen sink that had finally brought her to her senses. That and the fact that Clive had used the opportunity to tell her he was leaving her for one of the barmaids at the local pub with whom he’d been having an affair for months. At least he’d done all the damage in one go.