Beginnings

by L. T. Smith

  The punch to the gut completely winded me. The one to the side of my head made everything black once again.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

  SPENCER WAS SAT on the sofa again when I came round, flicking through a magazine and looking bored. The room looked darker, so I gathered the afternoon was ending, as I couldn’t see the clock from where I was sitting.

  ‘Ah … and Sleeping Beauty awakens. Enjoy your nap, sis?’ The tone was light-hearted on the verge of jovial. To tell you the truth, that unnerved me more. How could he just sit there and not acknowledge he was the one who put me to sleep?

  ‘Thought you were going to sleep the day away.’ He put the magazine down on the coffee table and sat back into the cushions, really making himself at home.

  The last time I had come round I had felt like crap … Now I couldn’t even begin to tell you what part of me hurt the most. All I can say is that my toes were okay, although I think that was on the count I couldn’t feel them. I was cramping up and my head and stomach were killing me. Breathing was beginning to become a burden.

  I heard a noise from upstairs, a thumping on the floor. Read was up there, probably seeing what he could pinch from my bedroom.

  ‘Where are my manners? Would you like a cuppa?’ I tried to speak, but my mouth refused to work. I had this novel idea that if he left the room maybe I could make a run for it, although by the feeling – or none feeling – in my legs, I doubted I’d pull it off. But it was worth the risk. So I nodded, and then grimaced as pains shot through my scalp.

  ‘Sam!’ Spencer looked towards the ceiling. ‘Sam! Get your arse down here and get the kettle on!’ Ah fuck. Plan A was out of the window, and the problem with this was I didn’t have a plan B.

  Read came down the stairs like a baby elephant in ballet shoes holding something in his hands. Something red.

  ‘Guess what I’ve found?’ He came into the room, totally animated. ‘This weirdo has kids’ clothes in her room.’ The red item was thrust into Spencer’s face and he shied away from the lad’s hands like they were going to hurt him in some way.

  Trying to rectify his obvious weakness, the definite flinch, he laughed and rubbed his eyes as if to say he couldn’t see it as it was too close. Read gave him the object, but I knew what it was… knew before he had mentioned the fact it was kids’ clothing. It was Ash’s jumper … from three boxes down in the office. Read had been busy … must’ve really gone to town in the rummaging department.

  Now I know it’s just a bit of wool … just a colourful bit of wool mangled into some kind of shape with needles, but it was all I had of her … of our life as kids … of that impenetrable innocence that is childhood. I could feel the anger building up inside, but didn’t have the strength to do anything about it.

  It was the way they were both handling it, as if it was nothing … like it was contaminated, when they were the ones contaminating it.

  ‘What do we have here then? A little kid’s jumper in the house of someone who works with kids.’ Spencer laughed. ‘This is priceless.’ I know it is, but for different reasons than what he was thinking. ‘I wonder what your boss would think about this … a woman to boot.’ Then he threw his head back and laughed.

  I collected all the saliva I could into my mouth, just to be able to form a few words. ‘It’s mine. From when I was a kid.’

  ‘Yeah right … Why on earth would you keep a jumper from all those years ago?’ Spencer sat forward, the smile splitting his face and his body language saying … ‘Go on … entertain me.’

  I swallowed, the tightness in my throat becoming more than uncomfortable. ‘It was the last thing my dad ever gave me … our dad.’ I watched the smile slip down his face. Watched it disappear and be replaced by a longing so painful, I actually felt sorry for him.

  ‘Go make a brew, Danny.’ Read tried to say something. ‘Now … make a brew. Tea for two.’ Then the smile was back, not as cocky now, but he was trying to gain some of the credibility he thought he had lost by showing something other than anger. It’s a pity he didn’t realise he would have gained more respect if he had shown he was human more often.

  Read hovered a little longer, wanting to keep on about the red jumper, but I knew he was a little wary of Spencer … and he had good cause to be. The mood swings he displayed were unnerving. One minute anger: the next cheerful. And the mutterings under his breath were a cause for concern. He was truly fucked up … and it wasn’t anything about my training that told me that. Anyone, even Read, could see Spencer was struggling to actually stick to the plot … but he was losing the battle.

  And I was crapping myself. There was no guessing what he was capable of. He had killed before, by his own admission, and seemed proud of it. But with the mention of our father, the unpredictable gene had become well and truly unlocked.

  ‘Erm … Sam? Tea. Now.’ Then the attention was back to me. We were alone, unfortunately. For once I wanted Read to stay … I don’t know why, but it seemed better the devil you know in a way.

  ‘So. A present from daddy. More than I ever got.’ The atmosphere changed once again, and then he was on his feet and walking over to the fireplace, the jumper firmly in his hand. He was stroking it in an almost loving way like it was connected to the man himself. I was mesmerised. Especially watching how his shoulders seemed to slump as he leaned over and brought the jumper to his nose and mouth. A smashing sound came from the kitchen, and it looked like Read was having good time breaking up my house. But Spencer didn’t bat an eyelid. He was absorbed.

  ‘Beeeeeeeeeeeeep!’ Fuck. My phone. Low battery.

  Spencer shot round and glared at me. My hand was already in my pocket, trying to finger the off button, but not managing it.

  ‘Beeeeeeeeeeeeep!’ He was over to me like a shot, his breath on my face, his eyes omitting a spark of madness.

  ‘That had better not be what I think it is.’ He was that close, I could see the spit collecting around his lips. ‘Give.’ I shied away from him, expecting at any moment a fist to come up and knock me into kingdom come again. ‘I said GIVE!’ His hands were trying to get in my pocket, and the more he tried, the more adamant I became.

  The struggle was becoming quite violent. Scrap that. It was violent, no question about it. The mobile was clenched in my hand and Spencer was pulling my fingers back one by one to try and get to it. I could see by the LCD the message ‘Low Battery’ interspersed with the credit amount that always displayed itself after a call. If he got the phone off me, he would know I had used it.

  And where did that leave me?

  Probably under the patio in a bin bag. Or at the bottom of the Norfolk Broads sporting concrete slippers.

  There was only one thing for it. Not let him get it. Simple to say, but painful to carry through. He was nearly breaking my fingers by this point, so I did the only thing I knew how to do.

  I bit him. Hard. On the side of his hand.

  The yelp that left him lured me into a split second of false sense of security, because the yelp was followed by a crunching backhander that threw me backwards and the phone forwards.

  My eyes were glazing. Focusing was becoming an issue once again. I could just make him out scrambling on all fours, hunting out the phone, when the room seemed to shrink and become fantastical once again. An image of a person loomed in the doorway, but it didn’t seem like Read … it seemed taller … more threatening.

  Then it seemed to fly into the air as if it was falling off a precipice. Lurch … hold … and fall. Right on the scuttling figure of Spencer, who by the looks of things had just found my phone. The noises I could hear were vicious. Thumping and smashing. Sounds of fists hitting flesh. The sound of air being expelled from stomachs and lungs.

  I tried to bring my focus to bear, but everything was too much like hard work … too hard to just open my eyes and spotlight what was going on. My hearing was perfect though, but everything seemed surreal. Voices blended into the other sounds and nothing made sense. I distinctly heard Spencer
tell the other person to get the fuck off him… but I didn’t hear the attacker answer.

  Then there were other sounds. Footsteps. Lots of footsteps. Shadows and shapes began piling into the room. Voices … concern … anger. Everything.

  And as I felt that hand on my face, I felt I could finally let go. I knew it was her … knew it was the one who would always love me.

  I knew it was Jo.

  Then I allowed the blackness to take me once again.

  I drifted in and out of consciousness, not recognising the passing of time. I knew I had been moved from my house … felt the open air on my face and neck. Was vaguely aware of the slamming of a door and the feeling of people around me, mumbling. But nothing made sense. It was as if I was wrapped in bubble wrap, and I was insulated from the outside world.

  I wish I could have said the same for my head. The pains soaring through it were agony and made my stomach retch. I just wanted to fall into the darkness … let it envelop me for good … let this pain go away, but they wouldn’t let me rest. They kept on trying to get me to open my eyes … to wake up … to listen to their voices. But it seemed too much like hard work. Painfully hard.

  At one time I opened my eyes and concentrated on green eyes so like my own and I felt fear race through me… honestly believed it was Spencer, but then the reassuring voice of Jo filtered down to me. Those eyes … they were softer, had emotion – compassion … love. They weren’t the deranged eyes of my stepbrother. I think the memory of those eyes will haunt me for the rest of my life. I always look at people’s eyes … have to look … it’s the only way I can trust them.

  ‘Don’t worry, Lou … it’s only me.’ Then her voice drifted over her shoulder and I could hear her talking to someone else whose voice I didn’t recognise.

  Then I was in a bed. White. Sparse. Clean and clinical. Beeps and clicks and the smell of disinfectant.

  Lights in my eyes … blinding … retracting … detracting from reality as sleep once again took me away from the pain … took me away from the noises and pressure.

  Finally … they let me go.

  The first twenty-four hours in hospital were filled with examinations … especially my eyes, to check if I had concussion. Which I had. No surprise really, with the amount of blows to my head I’d received. I also had one broken rib and two cracked ones … five butterfly stitches in my eyebrow, where Spencer’s ring had caught. My mouth was a mess, swollen, bruised, and split open on the inside.

  But other than that … I was fine. Back to fighting form … ish. I knew I would heal, as all the wounds were superficial to a degree, well, except for the concussion, which would sort itself out eventually. I hated the cracking sounds inside my head, which, the doctor informed me, was the sound and sensation of my brain aligning itself once again.

  Yuck … I know … but I thought you’d want to know, considering you’ve got this far.

  I wasn’t allowed any visitors for this first twenty-four hours, which was good in a way, because I was too out of it to actually talk to them. But you can guess who was the first through the door on the second day.

  Yes. Surrogate mum, Jo.

  I know you’re thinking ‘What about Ash? Where’s she?’ She came in later, and I had the distinct impression she had let Jo have time alone with me before she made her entrance.

  Jo. My Jo. My big sister who loved me and looked out for me. Had always had my best interests at heart … well … as she thought. The way she came bustling in, taking control of the situation … telling people I needed more pillows, more water, less light … I just smiled at her and waited for her to stop fussing before I demanded to be hugged. Hospitals always make me feel like I need to be molly coddled and made a fuss of.

  And then there she was … hugging me, crying into my hair about how worried she’d been … how she’d heard me on the phone when she’d called … heard me trapped with a man … a man who had hurt me.

  She told me of that helplessness she’d felt, how she’d always wanted to protect me and how she could hear him … hear me … and could nothing about it. Except take the phone to the police.

  Then she lost the ability to speak. Just sobbed and shook, and I held her, trying to be the comforter … take her role for a change.

  It wasn’t long before her words came tumbling out once again.

  ‘I thought I’d lost you, Lou. Thought … thought he’d … kill you before I co …could get there.’ More shaking and crying, and I could feel my shoulder becoming wetter and wetter. ‘I co … couldn’t hang up and call the police .. couldn’t turn it off .. had to listen … Ran to … to … the police station.’

  ‘Shush shush shush …come on, Jo. This can wait …’

  ‘Need you to know … need you to know.’

  ‘I know, Jo. Come on. Sit down.’ My words were muffled into her hair, but she loosened her grip and sat on the edge of the bed, one arm still about my neck. Her eyes were swollen and red. The look of absolute devastation painted itself over her, and I needed to make her see I was ok … that she could stop worrying.

  ‘Come on, love. I’m ok … look.’ I dipped my head underneath hers, and smiled. But I should have realised that would make her feel worse … if the feeling I had in my face gave me any indication.

  ‘Look at your face … your beautiful face.’

  ‘Hey … I’ll heal … just a little swelling and bruising.’

  She was off again. Head in her hands and sobbing. I tried to calm her by rubbing up and down her back; tried to cajole her into believing I was ok.

  The door to the room opened a crack. And then a little more … and then enough to fit a dark haired head through. A dark haired head attached to a very worried face. A worried face that contained two beautiful blue eyes. Two beautiful blue eyes that were looking at me … then flicked to Jo and then to me again.

  ‘Come in, Ash.’ The smile she sported was a mixture of relief and ‘I don’t want to intrude’. I just flicked my head backwards as in silent beckoning. The next minute she was in … closing the door carefully and quietly behind her.

  ‘Hey… how are you?’ Ash stood on one side of the bed, the side opposite to where Jo was trying to sort herself out. ‘How’s the head?’ Her hand came out and tentatively touched the side of my face, and I willingly laid my cheek on the palm of her hand, my eyes fluttering closed. A thumb brushed along my bottom lip, taking care not to touch the bruising. It was a feeling of total connection.

  I opened my eyes and looked straight into blue. They were so gentle, so full of love and totally absorbed in my own.

  Then the sound of a cough. A cough that, for a split second, broke the connection between Ash and I. But that was enough to make me aware that Jo was staring at us with astonishment. And the cough was a means to get our attention, rather than the onset of a cold.

  ‘You two are … erm … are …’ She couldn’t say it … couldn’t ask whether we were an item. Good job too, because I didn’t know if we were. I knew what had happened between us. Knew what I wanted to keep happening between us. But didn’t know if that was possible … we were so different … lived in different places.

  Ash looked me into the eyes again and then just leaned forward and brushed her lips against mine, as in answer to Jo’s unfinished question. Reaffirmation of what had happened between us a couple of days ago … the day my world began to spin again.

  I tried to increase the pressure of the kiss, but my mouth was having none of it, and I winced in pain.

  ‘You ok, baby?’ I nodded and touched my mouth expecting to see blood on my fingers. ‘And hello, Jo. Sorry I didn’t get time to chat the last time I saw you.’ I looked from one to the other, my expression asking for clarification. ‘Jo came to the station just as we were going to raid Spencer’s place. She had your phone and was trying to get the desk sergeant to listen to it. He wasn’t very helpful.’

  ‘He was a total wanker … treated me as if I had lost the plot.’

  ‘Well, in his defence
, you weren’t making much sense. Every time he tried to take the phone from you, you wouldn’t let it go.’ She smiled at Jo, trying to take the sting out of the statement. ‘It’s a good job we were there … I thought I recognised your voice … a little older, but it stood out against the Norfolk accents. Then I heard the name Lou.’

  At this Jo laughed, shortly followed by Ash. I looked from one to the other and wondered why they were laughing. ‘Sorry about that, Jo … I just needed to get the phone off you.’

  ‘Sorry for slapping you … didn’t realise what as going on. Thought someone was trying to nick it from me.’

  ‘Are you two going to tell me what is going on? I feel a bit left out here.’ I sat back on the pillows and pouted my lip, well … tried to, but I cringed at the sharp pain that ripped through my face.

  Ash sat down on the bed and gestured to Jo to tell me her side of events. I was ‘all ears’; to use another of my mum’s many nonsense phrases. Not literally ‘all ears’, but you know what I mean.

  It had been Jo who had called … although I guess you gathered that already. She had been worried that I hadn’t turned up … thought I was teaching her a lesson for some reason or another. She’d a good idea why I had wanted to meet and thought I was too pissed off with her to bother turning up.

  So, when the phone was answered and she didn’t hear my voice, she hadn’t thought much about it. …Just gone into defence mode … stating her side of events. Then there was still no recognition from me, but she could hear me talking in the background. Heard the words ‘imprisoning me in my own home’. Heard a man she didn’t recognise bragging about killing someone called Mike.

  I saw a glimmer of a smile flicker along Ash’s face … and I knew why. She had the evidence she needed to put Spencer behind bars for longer than just breaking into my house.