Deserved

by Victoria Johns

  “That’s great. I can make it just fine. Point me in the direction of the toaster or the grill.”

  Fuck. She was self sufficient. I watched in awe as she rapidly began to open and close cupboard doors without waiting for further instructions. After she’d loaded a slice of bread in the grill, she padded her bony feet to the refrigerator where she located some spread and a carton of juice.

  My eyes kept glancing at the wall clock. Lacey was due shortly. I hadn’t managed to get much information out of the girl last night I was that shocked by the turn of events. Having a houseguest was enough to make me feel uncomfortable, but one who was my daughter…? Nope, still wasn’t sinking in. As she took a seat beside me at the table, I felt anger begin to tickle at my senses. What kind of life had this girl had? She should not have felt at home in a strange guy’s house, especially when she was wandering around in bedclothes.

  “So today I have some errands to run. I wasn’t able to rearrange them at short notice, but I’ve asked someone to come and sit with you. She’s sort of… well… a kid of a very good friend of mine. I hope that’s okay?”

  “Yeah… cool.”

  “Carly,” I said, braving her name on my tongue. “I think you get that I’m a little in shock here. I had no idea about you.”

  Nodding her head nonchalantly, she answered, “Yeah, my mom and gran said that would be the case.” Her matter of fact attitude was doing nothing to quell the burn of angry frustration inside me.

  “Did they… uh… say how long you might be here with me?” I watched as she gulped down a mouthful of food, took a quick drink and then shrugged her shoulders. “What about school? It’s only halfway through the semester.”

  “Yeah, I haven’t been to class in a while, but I’ve been trying to keep up with my reading and writing. Not math—not a big fan of math, but I’m still good at it.”

  I had to blink continually to confirm she was real. When she spoke, Carly sounded like a girl about to leave high school. She appeared too mature for her years and didn’t act like any twelve-year-old I’d ever come across. This was both sad and alarming. During the night, I’d managed to convince myself I was on a fucking prank TV show and at some point the guys were going to fess up and an audience would magically appear. When my brain was tying itself in knots trying to get a grip on things that was the only explanation I could come up with to unravel it all.

  I heard Lacey’s car drawing up the drive and decided this was going to be awkward enough to explain as it was, without doing it in front of Carly, so I excused myself and rushed to meet her outside. Carly, however, didn’t bat an eyelid. She just ploughed on through her toast and juice like it was caviar and crackers.

  “Hey, Tommy, how’s it hanging?” Lacey beamed at me, shutting the door on her cute little two door Honda.

  “Okay, no easy way to say this shit so I’m just gonna drop it. It would appear I have a daughter. Her name is Carly. She is twelve and she was fucking marooned here last night.

  I watch as Lacey’s mouth dips, then she just shrugs it off. “Wow.”

  “Yeah. Wow.”

  “And you need me or Lottie for…?”

  “Fucking help! I don’t have the first goddamn clue what to do with her and I need to track down my bitch of a mother and Carly’s whore of a mother. I need you to stay with her.”

  “Sure, I can do that. Show me the way, dude.”

  I paused for a second just to be certain that I’d heard her right. This slip of a girl had referred to me as ‘dude’ and, surprisingly, had passed no sort of judgment. It seemed the only person passing any of that was me. Even Carly was handling it better than I was and not constantly obsessing over how the fuck we’d ended up here.

  I snapped my ass back to the here and now and indicated she should follow me into the house. When I got back to the kitchen, Carly was elbow deep in the sink, washing our breakfast pots.

  “You don’t need to do that shit. I’ve got a dishwasher.”

  “Uh…” She looked embarrassed. “I don’t know how to use one and I don’t mind pitching in with the housework.”

  Yeah, she was definitely fucking twenty, not twelve.

  “This is Lacey. She’s a friend and is gonna keep you company while I get shit done.”

  “Stuff,” Lacey reprimanded me. “You’re going to get stuff done.”

  I heard Carly chuckle at the exchange while she carried on rinsing plates.

  “Call this number if you need me and… thanks,” I muttered, jotting my cell number on a pad before exiting stage left with a large amount of relief.

  I placed a hasty call to Tara, telling her not to expect me behind the wheel of a cab today, and then I hit the road. My first destination was going to be my crotchety cow of a mother’s place. Seeing as I hadn’t laid eyes on Maisie in over a decade, I had no idea where to look for her, but my mom, fuck yeah, I had a few old haunts to try. Thinking about her made my blood boil. She was a useless mother, a lazy bitch and generally a waste of oxygen. Knowing that she’d had chance to fuck up another kid’s life was alarming. I’d turned out okay but not without a few blips on the road. Carly was alive, however, and appeared healthy and unaffected by me, her estranged father, so it seemed Gloria hadn’t sunk her claws into her too deeply. The fact that both of us still appeared to be functioning members of society was a fucking miracle.

  As I was driving through the streets of Hawkstown, making my way south to the outskirts where the trailer parks began, I wanted to feel shocked at the turn of events. Was it awful that Carly had been kept from me? Yes. Was it terrible that she’d made her own way to my doorstep like a piece of lost luggage? Yes. Was it a shock that my mother or Maisie hadn’t thought to tell me about her? No. This was my mother all over. Carly was an unfortunate pawn in Gloria’s mad, crazy life. Moving that pawn into position now clearly served a purpose for her, and it worried me that she’d been able to convince Maisie to abandon her daughter. The gnawing thought in my mind, though, was why now? What was Gloria’s perfectly crafted and desired outcome? She always had one. There was always a con on the go and, to my knowledge, Gloria had never gone so long with any schemes, they were always short. In and out with a good return and causing maximum damage. That she’d done this now meant I was in for an unpredictable reception with no understanding of the end game.

  Whether Carly was used to these games at the age of twelve was not the question; that was whether I was willing to play along.

  Whatever was happening, I wouldn’t find out until I’d tracked her stupid ass down.

  Lacey Talbot

  “I’m Lacey. I live over at Grove House and I’m twenty-four,” I started, like I always did with the kids, introducing myself and making friends.

  “Cool. I’m Carly, I’m twelve and I guess I live, well, here for now.”

  I took in the pretty thing stood before me. Her well-used sleep outfit was see-through in places, but it looked comfortable and homey. Her hair looked healthy and vibrant when the sun caught it through the kitchen window. The red deep in the roots of her hair shone through, making her green eyes glow like the cat’s eye marbles Carter used to play with.

  It was hard for me to see her as an object of need like most of the kids I came across because she was confident and intelligent. She spoke when required and her responses were measured—not too much and not too little. Her information could be described as succinct and necessary, meaning she was used to being shipped around or palmed off, and she was geared up to deal with whatever situation presented itself and make the most of it.

  Carly was me from years ago; I recognized it in an instant. She was clear about embracing life and rolling with the punches. She was going to be fine. In fact, she was dealing with this little blip in her life better than Tommy was.

  “Any idea what you fancy doing today?”

  For an instant, the real twelve-year-old inside her raced forward and her eyes lit up at being given the choice.

  “Is there a library? I co
uld do with some reading material and I don’t have any money for a regular bookstore.”

  “Of course. Library it is, and then we could go for ice cream? I can show you the main attractions of Hawkstown. It’s small and pretty and the people are really friendly.”

  “Sounds ace. I just need to take a quick shower.” Now I was the one who was shocked—a twelve-year-old volunteering to put her body under hot water in the name of getting clean.

  When she scooted out of the kitchen, I took her place by the draining board and began to dry the dishes she’d washed. Fifteen minutes later, she came bouncing back with some clothes bundled in her arms. I watched as she moved around me and ran the tap before immersing them in a bowl of hot water in the sink. With no hesitation, she opened cupboards until she located something soap related, before settling on dishwasher liquid and adding a healthy glug.

  “I’m sure Tommy has a washing machine you could use,” I suggested. Carly was clearly used to looking after herself, and you never knew how self-sufficient kids would react when you suggested a little help.

  “Yeah, I’m not sure how those work. I’m fine with hand washing and I can leave them soaking while we’re out.”

  Interesting. Practical and methodical, it was clear this girl had been her own caretaker for some time. Carly was dressed in a small pair of denim shorts and a t-shirt that said, “Beach hair, don’t care,” across the front. I could see the beginnings of breasts growing, made even more obvious by the fact that she wasn’t wearing a bra. Her legs were long, really long, and she wore a battered pair of old Havianas on her feet.

  I grabbed my purse off the side and waited for her to follow me outside. “Wow, is this your car? That’s neat!”

  “She’s my baby and her name is Tula.”

  “Does she go fast? Can we have the roof down?”

  “Yes, and absolutely,” I laughed. “Pretty girls, sunshine and Tula equals roof down.”

  Carly clapped her hands together in excitement, reminding me of her innocence and age. I blipped the locks and we both climbed in before pressing a button on the dashboard that started the folding and collapsing of Tula’s roof. As I put her in reverse, I decided now was the perfect time to get to know Carly better.

  “Tell me about yourself. What music do you like? Fave shows on TV? Give me the lowdown on Carly in a flyover tour.”

  “I love music. I would love to be able to dance. I adore fifties rock ‘n’ roll. In my next life, I’m going to be a kick ass waitress on roller skates in a diner I will own one day. I read books, mainly factual stuff, a lot of history. History is important, it gives us the chance to learn from our mistakes. I don’t watch TV. We didn’t have one and the movie theatre was too expensive. I don’t really have friends, and I make a mean peach cobbler.”

  I have to glance sideways in amazement, just to remind myself that she’s only twelve. Carly clearly knows what she enjoys. I was the same at her age. She could have been describing the time I spent with my mother. When I wasn’t with Annie and Carter, I’d bury myself in geography books, dreaming of the day when I could travel. I’d borrow old cassette tapes from my mom and play them over and over until I’d memorized the lyrics. On days when I was so hungry I felt faint, I’d steal apples from an orchard not far from the house and bake them with sugar. Sometimes, if I found an old packet of biscuits or cookies in the house, I’d bash them into bits and sprinkle them on the top, pretending I was eating a chef-prepared apple crumble. Like Carly, I learned to fend for myself early and see the positives in everything.

  “Your turn,” she said brightly.

  “I’m Lacey. I’ve lived with my foster family on and off since I was around ten. I still live with them so we see each other daily. I graduated from college early. I read trashy romance novels and I don’t have a boyfriend because I chose to study hard and work at the children’s home where I live. I binge watch any TV series that features a strong female lead, and one day I want to walk the entire length of the Grand Canyon.”

  Because I was busy watching the road, I failed to take in Carly’s reaction. When I pulled up at a stop sign, I noticed her head bent forward, her hair draping down hiding her face, and she was folding and unfolding her hands in her lap.

  “Hey, you okay?” I asked softly, tapping her thigh.

  “Is that why he called you?” she replied, so quietly that I had to lean in to hear her as the movement of her hands got faster.

  “Carly, what’s wrong? Look at me.” When she didn’t, I placed one of my hands over hers to stop them from fussing and to get her attention. When I gently squeezed them, her head snapped up and I was faced with the scared eyes of a child. “Talk to me. We’re friends and you can tell me anything. I promise you can trust me, okay?”

  “Is Thomas going to put me in your children’s home?”

  That was why she was self sufficient. If she could stay invisible and look after herself, she wasn’t a burden. This was behavior I recognized.

  “Honestly, I have no idea what the future holds, but Tommy’s a good guy and if you’re a part of his life, he’ll move mountains to keep you safe. I don’t know why your mom and gran chose to keep you two apart, but now you’re here, he’ll bust his hump to make up for that. As for me being here, he rang my sort of big sister-slash-mom, Lottie. They’re friends. He just needed someone to keep an eye on you while he ran his errands. I agreed as Lottie was out, lucky for me really, because I get to be your first friend here in Hawkstown.” I beamed my best reassuring smile and squeezed her hands again.

  “He’s gone to find my mom, hasn’t he?”

  “I don’t know, but if he has, it will be because he wants to understand why you’re here now and why he didn’t know about you. Please don’t worry.”

  I waited for her to think through what I’d said, and when it was squared off in her brain, she squeezed my hand back and smiled. “So is this Library good?”

  Brilliant, we were making progress. “I reckon it’ll keep you occupied. I know the owner so we’ll set you up with a card and you can take out some books today.”

  “Aces!”

  Miraculously, no one had appeared behind us at the stop sign. It gave me the opportunity to deal with Carly’s meltdown in real time, rather than asking her to wait and risking her closing off further. She was cute, and despite her attempts to come across as older and wiser than her years, like every other girl from a broken home, she was powerless to stop that from surfacing. Like for everyone else, fear was the stronger emotion and sometimes it was impossible to cover it up and halt it in its tracks.

  Tommy Sevens

  “Do I look like I wanna play your fucking games, Jed?”

  “Boy, you ain’t wanted here. Don’t make me get my gun.”

  I got the welcome I was expecting, though in fairness, I’d thought Gloria would be the one threatening to put lead in my ass, so finding Jed, her long time shag partner, on standby was unusual. My experience of Jed growing up was nasty. I’d always had the unpleasant misfortune of catching him fucking my mother and they were both usually high as a kite. There are some things you can never wipe from your memory banks.

  “Where’s Gloria? And when was the last time you saw Maisie Greaves?”

  I hadn’t made it through the door. Jed was stationed on an old chair outside with a hat perched at an angle on his dirty, balding scalp. He was wearing a yellowed vest and brown pants, which seemed to be held up by an unexplainable force of antigravity. He was thin and wiry, which confirmed that he still pumped poison into his veins on a regular basis.

  “Your momma took off a few days ago. Maisie, well that’s another story. Got herself in a bit of a bind with them Rough Riders. She’s not been next door for a good few months now.”

  “Next door?”

  “Yup, that’s her trailer, hers and that pretty thing, Carly. Ain’t seen her for a few days neither so I figured she’s cutting it loose with your momma. Although food’s running low, beer’s nearly out and my trailer ain’
t getting no fucking cleaner.”

  “Your trailer?”

  “Gloria gifted it to me when she left. Clearly that bitch ain’t planning on returning.”

  “Where’s she gone, Jed?”

  “I ain’t her fucking keeper!” he barked back at me. Jed going into defensive mode meant he didn’t know where she was and his pride was kicking in. There was no way he’d admit that, though. He’d rather have eaten shit than do that, so this chit chat was a pointless task and getting me nowhere. Dismissing Jed, I strode over to Maisie’s trailer and pulled open the flimsy door. The stench that hit me nearly bowled me over.

  Jed burst out laughing. “See what I’m saying? The longer Carly’s out gallivanting with Gloria, the harder the clean up is gonna be for that girl.”

  The urge to turn back and put my fist through his face was strong. It seemed Carly was nothing more than a fucking slave for these shit heads. I was fairly sure I’d find nothing of use when I stepped inside, and the stench all but confirmed that no one could have lived inside this trailer for a while. It was fit for burning and nothing more. It was a goddamn roach infested shit hole. Beer cans had been left to drain dry on the shit covered carpet and the spillages had long since molded over. The crockery pots in the place looked like a science experiment gone wrong. I kicked my way around and decided against touching anything unless absolutely necessary. I heard a scurrying sound when I toed a bag poking out from under the table, and a rat scarpered at speed to the far end of the trailer.

  There was nothing that made me believe Maisie had ever lived here. Just to be sure, I moved to the end and kicked the first door open. There were bed sheets strewn about and covered in what I assumed were blood stains. The other stains were probably spunk, but in an effort to not puke everywhere, I convinced myself they were just piss. Piss stains seemed less disgusting than spunk; that’s how bad it was.

  The makeshift closet was empty and the drawers had been either ransacked or emptied in a hurry. The door opposite was closed, and if it hadn’t been for the fact I needed to check it, I would have just left. Putting my boot against the door caused it to cave, and what was on the other side was a complete juxtaposition to the rest of the rat’s nest. The bed was made up with old, tired bedclothes. A teddy was propped up on a ledge and there were piles and piles of research books on the floor. Some were about the war, but many covered large chunks of time in history.