by Andie Fessey
“I need to go toilet.” Rose replied, looking at the reporter through bloodshot eyes.
“Please excuse us,” Joanne said, taking hold of Roses hand.
Leading the young girl into the Ladies toilets, she ensured she sat safely in one of the cubicles.
“If you need me sweetheart,” she said, “just call.”
“Thank you,” Rose replied.
Joanne kissed her on the forehead, before closing the door and returning to Gloria, currently stood with Pete, talking about the earlier incident.
“Happened just earlier,” Pete said, Gloria holding up her mobile telephone to record his voice.
“Rose will be fine. She is just on the toilet, “Joanne said, reaching them, “I’ll nip back to get her in a minute. Her poor father is more than likely trying to get through the crowd outside.”
“As Pete just said, it happened just a short while ago. None of us witnessed it directly, but the police are interviewing us all in turn. Paula, she works her as a volunteer at Krazy Kids, was on door duty and then.”
“What do you mean by ‘door duty’?” asked the reporter.
“Oh, at Krazy Kidz we take the welfare of our children very seriously.”
Seriously enough you have left a poor kid to be sick by herself?
“We keep the doors locked at all times when the children are here. Their safety is of paramount importance to us all. We have a comprehensive work rota here, I will show you it in a bit, and part of the duties of staff is ‘door duty’. When the parents are due to collect their children, a member of staff will always be in attendance to verify they are the right persons and to ensure the door is firmly locked behind them.
“It was Paula’s turn today and everything seemed okay. A couple of parents had already arrived by this point and one of them had told us that John Rimmer, he is another of the parents, little Amelia’s dad poor kid, was outside staggering. We know John likes a drop or two, he drinks at our local. Oh, can I say his name?” she asked.
Gloria smiled in return, it would save her trying to get it from the constabulary later.
“Well, there was no knock on the door but Paula came in to say John was staggering around in the porch-way.
We have double doors out there also, which we don’t lock, as the porch gives parents a chance to stand out of the rain.
“Pete was in the yard outside collecting in the football nets from earlier. So, I couldn’t get Pete to go see if John was piss, sorry drunk. Paula said she would go see to John and if he was drunk, she would call his wife Maxine. She works at the newsagents around the corner. The police must have told her by now poor thing. You would never expect anything like this to happen around here would you Pete?”
Pete, mid sip of his coffee, shook his head.
Gloria smiled, having now another name to go into her report. Whether the paper would use it, was not her decision. Probably not she thought, but with this report her editor may give her a proper role, instead of tweeting about traffic jams most days.
“Well,” continued Joanne, “Paula had only been out there a second when we all heard a scream. One of the other helpers ran out the back to get Pete and a few of us went to go out the front, safety in numbers you know.
“Before we could get two steps, we heard the front door slam shut. We made our way to the hallway leading to the entrance and there was poor Paula, throwing the latch across. When she turned around her poor face was in scrunched up in agony.
“We ran across to her and we could see that her hand was bleeding badly. At first, she wouldn’t show it to us, but I explained that she knew I was a first aider and I would help her.
“So, we got Paula to go with me and Kathy, one of the other helpers, to the disabled toilets. Well, Paula was crying and howling in pain, poor girl and we couldn’t get any sense out of her. When I got her to show me her hand I could see why.
“John, allegedly, I have to say that don’t I? Well, whatever I can say, her thumb and part of her hand had been bitten off.”
“Bitten off?” Gloria asked, lowering the phone down.
“Yes! It was disgusting. I’ve only ever dealt with headaches and that and then I deal with this.”
“What did you do?”
“Kathy had run to get the first aid kit from the kitchen and I had my arm around Paula’s shoulder, the poor thing. Pete had come in by this time and was ringing the police and for an ambulance. God, I never thought we would ever have to do anything like that here. But it wasn’t the clubs fault it happened and we followed all of the proper precautions.”
Gloria smiled sympathetically.
“So, Pete rang the emergency services and I comforted Paula. We have a small CCTV camera which covers inside the porch-way. As I say, we take the security of our children very serious here at the club. Pete had gone into the staff office next to the kitchen, he said there was banging on the front door as he passed, and switched on the monitor we have in there. It’s not the best in world.”
“Really grainy and black and white,” Pete interrupted.
“Oh,” Gloria said, her eyes lighting up, “may I see the footage?”
“Sorry,” Joanne replied, “but the police have taken it away, the whole system. They gave me a receipt for it, a RIPA something or other. It’s not a tape one you see, it has a digital drive.”
“That’s okay,” Gloria said.
Ah well, you don’t get if you don’t ask.
“Please continue if you would?”
“Where was I? Oh yes, the camera. Pete had switched on the camera and he said that he saw, who he thought was John Rimmer stood in the porch-way.”
“He seemed to be thrashing about,” Pete interrupted, “like he didn’t know how to open the door or something.”
“Tell Gloria about his face,” Joanne exclaimed.
Gloria looked at Pete.
“He turned around for a moment,” Pete said, “and I could see his face for a few seconds. As I said love, the picture is black and white and grainy at the best of times. I don’t know if that is a good thing or a bad thing.”
“Why?”
“Well, I was glad I couldn’t see him clearly, as his face was covered in something dark. I didn’t want to know if it was claret or not, sorry blood. But the picture made him look like one those bloody monsters in that old movie you know? You know the old black and white one, where they all end up in the farmhouse at the end. Made me bloody jump.”
“At this point,” Joanne interrupted, “other parent’s cars were arriving. We still had quite a few children here. Kathy took the children to the far end of the hall and sat them down. She had them singing some songs.”
“It was bloody strange listening to the kids singing whilst he was out there thrashing around,” Pete said.
“Anyway, Pete had called the emergency services by now, thank God, they were quick, and went to the kitchen. He managed to get one of the windows to open and started to shout at the parents arriving to stay away. Luckily Crosby Police Station is only a few minutes away and it wasn’t long before two officers arrived in a police car.”
“Poor bastard,” Pete exclaimed.
“Who? John Rimmer?” Gloria asked, lowering her arm.
“No,” Pete replied, “the copper.”
I’ll get a better role at the paper for sure now.
“Please, tell me what happened.”
“I saw the car arrive,” Pete continued, “and two officers started walking up the path. I waved at them and called them over. The young copper ran straight across, whilst the other one walked after him. I told him what I knew and he relayed this to his colleague.”
Pete looked sad and shook his head.
“I warned them. I did try and warn them. They made their way to the porch and knocked on the outer door. I couldn’t make out what was happening and then remembered the monitor. I wish I bloody hadn’t now”.
“By the time I had made my way from the window back to the monitor they had already e
ntered the porch way. I couldn’t look at it for long. I thought I was going to be sick. There is no sound on the system, but I could hear what was going on in the porch as the office is nearby. It would have just been like watching a horror movie on telly if not for that.”
“My god, what was happening?”
Fucking gold dust.
“John, or allegedly, John,” he looked at Joanne, “fuck it, it was John. John had the young copper against the wall. The older guy was trying to pull him off him. I know he wasn’t, but it looked like John was leaning in kissing the officer on his neck”.
“John pulled his head back and when it twisted around, I swear, I only saw the image for a moment and wish I hadn’t, but I swear he had meat, flesh hanging out of his mouth. The young copper had his back to the wall clutching his throat. Whilst John was eating ‘whatever’ it was, the older copper dragged the young lad out of the door and closed it behind him. There was a pool of dark on the floor of the porch-way leading out. I know now it was the young lads’ blood.”
“By this time, even I could hear the screaming of the people outside and I was still in the disabled toilets with poor Paula,” Joanne said.
“I was back at the window by now away from that bloody screen,” Pete continued, “the older of the two managed to get the young lad back to the car. One of the kids Dads, I think it was Jimmy Benson, gave him a hand. The officer must have been straight onto his radio, because literally minutes later, there were marked police cars screaming into the road. I’ve no idea what the policy is in regards using a Taser or whatever is, but a black Audi estate pulled up and four officers got out. Three men and a woman.”
“By this point an ambulance was pulling up outside. Some of the uniformed officers were keeping the parents back, as well as the small crowd which had gathered. Some of them bloody ghouls were even pointing their mobile phones at the club.”
Gloria winced, arriving well by then and one of those taking pictures.
“That was when the firearms officers had arrived,” she said, more of a statement than a question.
“Yes,” Pete replied, “they had made their way over to the window and asked me things, like how many people were in the building? What had happened? Was John by himself? Did he have a weapon? You know that sort of thing? After I told them what I knew, they told me to get everybody out of the back as far away from the entrance as possible.”
“Pete had to almost carry Paula at this point,” Joanne pointed out.
“Aye, poor thing. We did as we were told and about five minutes later, we heard a loud crack, then a couple more shortly afterwards.”
“Next thing we knew, one of the officers came through to us,” Joanne continued.
“He made sure we were okay, then radioed to his colleague to send the ambulance guys in. Another officer joined him and, after we answered their questions, they asked us if there was another entrance we could leave by. That was the fire-door we came in by earlier.”
“That is such an amazing and sad story,” the reporter said, “so, what is happening now?”
“Just waiting around to answer more questions, then to lock up,” Pete replied.
Gloria glanced at her phone.
She could send this across via email straightaway to the paper, but intended to return to the office before her boss left.
She wanted to relay this one in person.
“I think I’ve taken up too much of your time already,” she said, smiling at Joanne, placing her cup of on the nearby counter, “I am so grateful and thankful that you could give me this interview, especially so soon after such a traumatic experience.”
“Oh, do you want to stay longer?” Joanne asked.
“You could take more pictures and get some more of our background.”
“I’ll call you up if I need some more answers. And please do not worry, I’ll make sure all of this is in print for tomorrow’s paper. If I can get back to our office now, I can make sure that it goes on our website straightaway.”
“Oh, okay. That’s great Gloria.”
“Anyway,” Gloria said, heading to the fire-door, “you have a poorly girl to see to.”
Joanne appeared puzzled, then remembered she left Rose in the toilets.
“Yes,” she said, smiling at the now retreating figure, “of course. I’d best see to her and see where her father is too, poor thing.”
“I’ll see what is taking poor Rose so long,” she said, turning to Pete, “I can’t believe that bloody Dad of hers hasn’t even had the decency to call to let us know he is running late.”
“As you said, he may be stuck outside waiting to get in. I’ll lock the fire-door then grab a quick cig out the back if that’s okay? Then I’ll go see if he is outside.”
“Thanks Pete,” she replied, heading to the Ladies toilets.
Walking across to the fire-door, Pete stole a glance outside before locking it.
Still quite a crowd.
Locking the push-bars, he walked to the door at the rear of the building, rummaging in his pocket for his packet of cigarettes.
“Rose!” Joanne called, entering the toilets.
She received no reply.
Shit, I hope she’s okay.
She hurried across the room, to the cubicle she left Rose in.
Finding the door closed, she sworn she left it open earlier.
“Rose, are you okay in there?”
The green sign on the handle indicated the door was unlocked, but attempting to push it open, she found it blocked by something.
What the hell is jamming it?
After a couple more unsuccessful pushes, she remembered a large gap lay located at the bottom of each toilet door.
She got on her knees to look under the door. Still being unable to see, she lowered her head down, until her cheek touched the cold floor.
She could now view under the gap to see the lower part of the cubicle.
What she saw made her blood freeze.
The object preventing her from opening the door, the prone body of Rose.
Joanne placed her arm through the gap to shake her. Her hand pressed against Roses dress but the girl did not respond.
“Rose! Rose love, its Joanne, can you hear me sweetheart?”
Still no response from the prone body of the child lay mere inches from her.
She shook Rose again, again calling her name.
Still no response.
Oh god, what’s happened to her? Has she slipped or had a fit or something?
She felt like crying.
This fucking day is going from bad to fucking worse.
She stood up.
What am I going to do?
She pushed the door with her hands again, it did not budge.
Placing her shoulder against it, she pushed, but to no avail.
Her back leaning against the door, she panted with exertion.
Pete! I’ll get Pete to help me! Why the fuck didn’t I think of that first?
The child’s small, pale, darkly veined hand reached under the door, grabbing her ankle in a vice-like grip.
Before Joanne could react, the hand pulled hard.
She fell forward onto the cold, hard, tiled floor.
A loud crack resonated throughout the small room, as her knee struck the floor.
With no chance of placing her arms in front of her to cushion her fall, her nose cracked and split open, striking the solid surface.
The pain was immense.
Her eyes closed tightly shut, due to the pain radiating both from her knee and her broken nose.
This feeling of hurt in these became interrupted, when she felt the agonising pain, as Roses teeth dug deeply into her tendon.
The pain now incredible, sent bolts of agony throughout her body, as hot urine spread from in-between her thighs onto the tiles.
Screaming, she pulled her leg out from under the gap
Sinews and muscle hung down from her tendon, where Rose ripped the flesh from.
Pete and Karen heard her screams of unbearable agony breaking through the air, filling the building and came rushing as one, to the toilets.
Chapter Fifteen
Jake lay on the bed, watching a Stand-up comedy routine on his palm tablet.
“You okay love?” Abigail asked, entering their bedroom.
“I am now you are here,” he replied, smiling and muting the volume, “how did your Spanish lesson go?”
“Bien. Te eves con tus ojos, no en sus manos.”
He stared at her with a blank expression on his face.
“It’s supposed to mean, ‘you look with your eyes, not with your hands’.”
“With your eyes?”
“Yes, with your eyes,” she replied, smiling at him, “I don’t write the lessons so don’t blame me.”
“How’s your back?” She asked, walking across their bedroom and sitting on the bed alongside him.
“Its fine babe honestly, just a couple of twinges today,” he replied, smiling, “and I’ve taken a couple of painkillers before you start to have a moan too.”
“Have you seen the news love?”
“No love, you know I try to avoid it,” he answered, standing slowly and stretching his arms above his head.
Picking the tablet from the bed, she switched off the screen, the frozen image displaying one of his favourite stand-up comedians and pressed the internet icon.
“There’ve been a load of attacks in Liverpool,” she said, awaiting the internet screen to appear.
“What sort of attacks? Do you mean terrorist attacks?”
“I don’t think so love, but you never know these days. I listened to the news on the radio when I was bringing Nate home,” she replied, “the reporter said there’ve been loads of outbreaks of violence throughout Liverpool. On the way back from my lessons, there were more reports.”
“What’s new about that?” He asked.
“Oh my god,” she said, as the page appeared, “it’s all over it.”
He sat on the bed next to her, staring at the screen.
The whole of the News corporation websites home page, taken up with coverage and reports of the attacks.
In the time, it took for her to return from her Spanish lessons at the local college, the situation escalated.
