‘Are you back at work?’ Cassie asked.
‘Yeah,’ Leah said, with a deep sigh of boredom. She held out her hands as proof. They looked shrivelled, like an old lady’s. The skin was dry, stretched thin as tissue paper across her knuckles, and when she turned her hands over, palms up, Cassie was shocked to see the red-raw cracks in the creases of her fingers. Leah studied her hands impassively. ‘They’re wet all the time. That’s what fucks ’em. Ugly, ain’t they?’
Cassie lied. ‘Not ugly. They just look really sore. Did you get anyone to look at them?’
Leah lost interest. ‘Nah. They’re not that bad.’ She absentmindedly scratched at the scars on the top of her left hand. ‘That’s pretty.’ She pointed at Cassie’s ring.
It was a small opal, set either side with two tiny diamonds – her Grandma Sheila’s engagement ring. She had given it to Cassie when it became clear that she wasn’t going to get better. Cassie hadn’t wanted to take the ring, but her grandma had insisted, saying it made her happy to see Cassie wearing it. Which was all true and very heartfelt, but she could hardly tell Leah the story. ‘Thanks.’ She left it at that, putting her hand out of sight, by her side. A direct comparison did Leah’s hands no favours.
‘Nice day,’ Leah observed.
‘Yeah,’ Cassie said.
Again the uncomfortable silence pushed them apart.
‘You haven’t said anything to your mum and dad about me, ’ave you?’ Leah asked. The thought of Cassidie’s ‘lovely’ parents brought up bile, but the knowledge that they had no idea where their precious daughter currently was acted as some measure of compensation. Cassidie must be getting proficient at lying.
‘No.’ Cassie said. Which was true, but not saying anything was driving her crazy. Everything Tom and Grace did infuriated her now. Being in the same room or, worse, trapped in the car with them for any length of time was unbearable. She couldn’t stand listening to them and looking at them, because Cassie now knew they were hypocrites, and that changed everything. The urge to shock them out of their controlled, complacent little world was overwhelming. Not being able to was maddening. ‘Leah, why don’t you want me to tell them that I know about you? That we’ve met?’
‘I just don’t.’
Cassie heard the edge of aggression, but braved it nonetheless. ‘But I’m going to have to tell them at some point.’
‘Why?’ Leah asked.
‘Well…’ Cassie floundered. ‘I need to ask them why they lied about you.’
‘They’ll only lie again, so what’s the point?’ Leah said flatly.
Cassie tried a different tack. ‘I just think that, if we’re going to keep seeing each other…’ She glanced at Leah, wanting affirmation, but didn’t get it, ‘well, they’re going to have to know that you’re in my life.’
Leah’s face was blank. ‘I don’t see why.’ The less Cassidie’s parents knew, the better.
‘For lots of reasons. So you can come to the house. Meet my sis—my other sister. Maybe even meet them – eventually – when you’re ready. Don’t you want to meet them, ask them why they didn’t say anything about you?’
‘No.’ Leah stared out across the park. Cassie sighed. Leah turned and looked at her. ‘It ain’t gonna happen. I don’t want to go anywhere near your house, or your parents, or your sister.’ She had been, and had seen enough. For a bright girl, Cassidie could be remarkably stupid.
‘Is it because you’re mad at them?’
‘Mad?’ Leah spat out the word.
The derision made Cassie feel uncomfortable. ‘Okay, “mad” obviously isn’t the right word. “Angry”, “pissed off” – I don’t know the right word…“furious”?’
Leah watched a small bird fling itself across the sky, staring at it until it disappeared into the trees at the far side of the park, wrestling with the conflicting impulses of control and release. And as she’d found herself doing more and more when she was with Cassidie, she chose release. ‘“Hate”. That’s the word, you’re looking for, Cassidie. I fucking hate your parents.’
Cassie blinked, but didn’t flinch. ‘I get that.’
But she didn’t, because she couldn’t. ‘No, you don’t. You love them. They love you. You can’t get it. You were all I had, and they took you away from me.’ The words erupted from somewhere deep inside Leah, somewhere black and bitter. ‘That was it, for me. After that it was never gonna be any good. I was fucked. No one wants a seven-year-old, not even a nice one, and I wasn’t nice. How could I be?’ Leah lifted her chin, regaining some of her defiance. ‘Do you know how many times I was moved on, altogether? Eighteen! Eighteen fucking times. Different foster families, different houses, different units – the same old shit. There was never any notice, no explanation, just another bin bag with my stuff rammed in it, and another room, another bed, following on after some other sad cunt. So no, Cassidie, I don’t want to come to your nice house and meet your nice little sister and your nice parents! Thank you very much!’
Cassie wanted to shrink away from Leah’s anger, but she knew she couldn’t. The guilt wouldn’t let her. This was the first time Leah had said anything about being in care. Cassie wanted to listen, wanted to understand. ‘I’m sorry.’
‘Yeah, well. It was what it was.’ Leah faked a shrug, trying to haul the rage back in.
‘Didn’t you settle with anyone?’ Cassie winced at her choice of words, waiting for Leah to take offence, but surprisingly she didn’t.
‘When I was nine, I had a year and a half with an older couple, in Bolton, the Mertons. They were all right. But they offed to Australia when he retired.’
‘And left you?’
‘Yeah. Said they couldn’t take me, cos I wasn’t theirs.’ A clean, white room with a dressing table and a stool with a furry cover. A chance – which hadn’t turned into a life, despite her best efforts to be the very best version of herself. Cassidie was looking at her now, listening, caring. It provoked another rush of painful truth. ‘Once you’ve been in care, people can detect it on you. At school, in shops – they just know.’ Leah looked out across the park. ‘After that I had no chance. Teenagers. Who wants a teenager? Nobody.’
Cassie thought about Leah’s scrubbed-clean, lonely flat and felt another heavy drop of knowledge fall into the gathering pool. ‘So what happened to you?’
‘I got sent to other placements, flats, houses. None of them worked out. I ended up in a unit.’
‘I don’t understand why they kept moving you? Surely—’
Leah stood up abruptly. ‘They just did. That’s what happens to kids that no one wants.’ She stretched, as if trying to shake off the memory, putting an end to the conversation. ‘I need to go to the shop. You coming?’
‘Leah, wait. Sorry. I didn’t mean—’ Cassie’s sentence was cut short by the sensation of something battering against the back of her legs. As she jumped up and away from the bench, a volley of shouting started up. A male voice, somewhere over to their left, hollered, ‘Get ’ere ! Tyson, off! I said…drop it! Tyson, drop it!
In response, Leah supplied an unbroken string of expletives. Beneath the bench Cassie saw a frenzy of white-and-brown fur and a flash of yellow teeth tangling with her bag. Instinctively she bent down and started pulling at the strap, trying to get it back, but the dog wasn’t giving up without a fight. It snarled and clamped its teeth into the fabric. Cassie tugged and pulled, her heart pumping in her chest. The dog hung on.
Leah shouted, ‘What the fuck!’ very clearly, then, inexplicably, ran away, leaving Cassie in a bizarre, frightening tug-of-war with the slobbering slab of muscle. It went on and on. Then, without warning, the dog suddenly unclamped its jaws and Cassie stumbled backwards, bag in hand, and landed with a jarring thud on her backside. There was a gap of at most half a second, then the dog started barking again. It backed up weirdly, as if winding up itself for a full assault, then rushed at Cassie.
Just before the Staffie reached her, Leah loomed into view, yielding what looked like a tr
ee branch. She jabbed it hard between the dog’s front legs and proceeded to push and prod it away, putting herself between it and Cassie. This only served to enrage the Staffie even more. It started jumping up, snapping and snarling at Leah. After what felt like for ever, a hand finally got a grip on the dog and pulled it backwards. A lead was clipped on and it was yanked at hard, once, twice. Cassie felt blood rush up to her face, embarrassed heat replacing cold fear.
‘Down, Tyson, down!’ The dog finally quietened a few notches, though it was still growling and pulling. The man bent down and checked it over, then straightened up. ‘Ya mad bitch! You could’ve killed him!’ This was aimed at Leah, who was still standing, holding the branch. ‘If there’s any damage, I’m tellin’ ya, you’ll be paying for it.’ The man was breathing hard with anger as much as exertion.
Leah glanced at Cassie, checking that she was okay, then back at the bloke. ‘It needs fucking putting down,’ she hissed.
‘It’s your fucking fault – leaving stuff on the floor. He’s a dog, what did ya expect?’ The man was struggling with the Staffie. He squared up to Leah, and Leah stepped forward.
A completely new fear raced through Cassie. She scrambled to her feet, clutching the wrecked bag to her. ‘Leah, I’m okay. Let’s just leave it.’ She started to back away, keeping her eyes on the snarling dog.
‘Yeah. I’d listen to your foreign friend, if I were you.’
Leah took another step forward and, at the precisely the same time, the guy and Cassie realised that the branch wasn’t the only thing she was holding; clenched in her left fist was the broken bottle, held by its neck. Leah stared at the man, and the man stared at Leah.
‘You’re fucking mental!’ the guy shouted, but he dropped his gaze. He turned abruptly and started dragging the dog away with him, cursing as he went. Leah threw the stick down, but she held onto the bottle until he was well away from them.
They didn’t say anything to each other until they’d made it down to the play area. By unspoken mutual consent they went and sat on the swings, side-by-side, both of them breathing unevenly. They could still just about make out the man and his dog moving away along the ridge; he was shaking his head, the Staffie pulling and straining in front of him.
‘Fuckin’ nutter!’ Leah’s voice was clogged with fury and something less certain.
‘It could smell the food.’ Cassie examined her bag, which was covered in puncture marks and dog slobber. Thankfully her purse was still there, along with the remnants of the plastic bag; two badly squashed sandwiches, some smashed crisps and a crushed chocolate bar.
‘Food?’ Leah asked.
‘Yeah, I brought us lunch.’ The stupidity of the gesture struck Cassie and she had to swallow to stop herself blubbing. She felt shaken and suddenly very cold, despite the sun. When she glanced at Leah, she was shocked to see that she seemed to be struggling as well. She was rubbing her hands repetitively up and down her jeans, as if trying to rid herself of the whole experience.
‘Are you all right? You were really brave. Thank you.’
‘Stupid fucker!’ Leah kept up her compulsive chafing. Cassie could hear the rasp of her skin against the denim. The swing swayed and creaked.
‘Leah, it’s okay. It’s over. They’ve gone.’ Cassie risked reaching out and touching the top of Leah’s hand, wanting to still her agitation. Leah’s hand was stone-cold. Cassie patted it awkwardly and Leah’s breathing calmed, a little. The girls sat for a moment, hand over hand, fingertip to skin, old scars discernible through new contact.
Out of nowhere, a memory flooded through Cassie. A dog, barking and snarling. Sharp teeth snapping in her face. Scrabbling claws. Slobber and scratches all over her legs. Threat, fear, danger. And Leah! Leah putting herself in harm’s way. Leah keeping her safe. Leah protecting her.
‘It was you!’
Leah slid her hand out from underneath Cassie’s and edged the swing backwards until she was standing on the tips of her toes. She set it off slowly, swinging back and forth, arcing her body, building up speed and height, back and forth, back and forth, until she was sailing high in the sky.
Beside her, Cassie sat marooned – rethinking everything.
Not her mother. Her sister.
Not maternal love. Sibling.
Not a faceless ghost. Leah.
Chapter 41
THE FLAT was filled with sunlight. Leah went straight into the bathroom and shut the door. She was badly shaken, and not just by the dog attack. She pumped soap onto her hands and began scrubbing at them under the hot tap. She needed to get clean – palms first, then the tops, then in between her fingers. The soap seeped into her cracked skin, stinging fiercely, but still she kept at it, ridding herself of the contamination. She counted under her breath, slowly. She allowed herself to get to thirty, then she reluctantly turned off the water. A trail of pink blood swirled around the sink and drained away. Though she patted her hands gently, spots of red bloomed on the towel. She folded it carefully and hung it – blood stains hidden – back on the heater. She felt calmer, more in control, but still not normal.
The dog had been a shock, but it was the emotion that the attack had released that was really freaking her out – that, and Cassidie’s response. Leah looked down at her ugly, raw hands and saw Cassidie touching them as they sat on the swings. A small, simple, defences-destroying gesture. Leah brought her hands up to her face and inhaled the sharp tang of citrus, a stripped-bare, cleansing smell. It helped to ground her, and remind her to stay on task.
She picked up her phone, saw Naz’s text and steeled herself.
In the living room Cassie waited, processing the same event, but with very different emotions. For the first time in months, it made sense. Her dreams weren’t of her birth mother – her parents hadn’t been lying about that, but they had still been wrong! The moments of kindness, affection and happiness weren’t echoes of her time spent with Jane, they were memories of Leah.
It was not her mother who had danced with her, swinging her round on her hip, holding her close.
Not her mother who had looked after her when she was sick, comforting her and singing her nursery rhymes.
Not her mother who had made sure that she was fed and warm.
It was not her mother who had protected her from all the threats that had massed and gathered in their pit of a house.
It was never her mother who loved her.
It was Leah.
Seven-year-old Leah. A child raising a child. It was crazy, but it was true. The one person who had been there for Cassie had been Leah, and Cassie hadn’t even remembered her. The cruelty of it was breathtaking. No wonder Leah was so angry: with her, with her parents, with the world in general. She’d shown love and bravery in the face of appalling neglect and danger, only to be ignored and rejected, over and over again.
Cassie thumped down on the sofa, took a few deep breaths and started to shift through each fragment, reassigning them, finally, to the right person – her sister.
When Leah emerged from the bathroom she was back in control. By unspoken consent, both girls moved wordlessly into the tiny kitchen; a new-found acceptance of each other’s presence seemed to have taken over. Leah filled the kettle, and Cassie got out the mugs for tea. Together they made the beans on toast. They took their food through to the sitting room. They ate, balancing their plates on their knees, sitting next to each other on the sofa. The beans tasted good. It felt okay not to talk; in fact it felt safer, so neither of them did. When the meal was over, Leah collected the dirty plates and mugs. Cassie let her, knowing that she wouldn’t relax until everything was washed and put away, and the tea towel was draped over the back of the chair.
When Leah walked back into the room, she went and stood over near the window. Cassie looked at her silhouetted against the sky and didn’t know how to begin.
It was Leah who broke the impasse. ‘Why don’t we go into town?’
Cassie smiled. ‘Yeah. That’d be good.’ She wanted to say so mu
ch more, but all she could think to offer was, ‘We could see if can we get someone to have a look your hands?’
Leah turned and shrugged. ‘’Kay.’
It was a start.
Chapter 42
IT TURNED into a weirdly normal afternoon. Leah seemed to want to avoid conversation, so Cassie happily went along with the quiet but companionable mood. Armed with some steroid cream from the sympathetic chemist in Boots, they drifted around the clothes shops in an anaesthetised state, picking up and putting things down with no real intention of purchasing. The piped music and presence of other people was soothing, after the violence in the park. Only once did Cassie offer to buy something for Leah, a pair of jeans that she had lingered over, but Leah shook her head and shoved them back on top of the pile, the minute Cassie started searching for her purse.
Cassie didn’t push it, knowing that Leah would find the fold of notes in the cutlery drawer soon enough. Recompense by stealth – that was the way to go. Even at a dawdling pace, they exhausted the gamut of clothes shops in Oldham within the hour. Neither of them seemed to have a plan for what came next. Both of them were unwilling to say goodbye. Their dilemma was resolved by the appearance of Naz. They spotted him before he saw them. He was on the other side of the high street, outside a bookie’s, talking to some lads. Leah slowed her pace and Cassie matched her. They very nearly made it round the corner and out of sight, but not quite.
‘Hey!’ he shouted. They stopped. He slapped hands with the lads in some styled-out, private handshake, then ambled over the road to meet them. ‘Thought it was you. Bunking off again?’
Cassie didn’t know whether this was aimed at her or Leah. She let Leah answer. ‘We were just having a wander round the shops.’ As always around Naz, she seemed tense.
‘Right.’ He nodded. ‘I was heading your way. You got time for a drink, Cassidie? It’d be good to have a proper catch-up.’
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