Family Business

by Mark Eklid

  The woman rested her bottom on the curved front of a black desk with silver metal trim. She was in her fifties and stylish, making her appear almost as if she had been deliberately integrated into the design of her swish surroundings. She had her arms crossed and her legs crossed at the ankles and wore a lilac round-necked top with a heavy silver necklace beneath her tailored jacket. Her hair was shoulder-length, dark and elegantly cut and her expression was confident, challenging. In control.

  ‘Could you leave us please, Jason? I’d like a few moments alone with Mr Hasselhoff,’ she said.

  Jason held his steely focus on Graham, calculating the risk of agreeing to the request without protest.

  ‘Sure,’ he replied at last and walked towards the door next to the snowy mountain print, turning back to stare at Graham again and adding, pointedly more for his benefit than the woman’s, ‘I’ll be next door.’

  After he left the room, the woman smiled.

  ‘He’s a good boy. He always looks after his mother.’

  Without the intimidating presence beside him, Graham felt emboldened to speak up.

  ‘Look, who the hell are you and why have you brought me here?’

  He felt he was entitled to know.

  She stood and strolled towards the coffee machine, which was on a table to his left. A tray with a jug of water was beside it and she poured herself a glass.

  ‘Oh, I think you know why you’re here.’

  She brought the glass to her red lips and watched him as he attempted to process her reply.

  ‘What the hell is that supposed to mean? I have no idea why your ...thugs grabbed me in a car park, blindfolded me, half-suffocated me, scared the living shit out of me and brought me here. I have no idea where I am or what you want, so I suggest you set me free right now because, I’m telling you, you’ve got the wrong man.’

  She took another sip of water and replaced the glass on the tray.

  ‘You are definitely the right man, Graham Hasselhoff,’ she said as she ambled back to her position at the desk.

  ‘That is not a name anybody could forget in a hurry but some of us have more reason than most for that name to stick in their minds. Some of us had their world turned upside down. Some of us were thrown out onto the streets with no money and a baby on the way. Some of us almost ended up dead in a grotty hovel at the hands of some smackhead. And now some of us have to take steps to protect their interests. Oh yes, you are most definitely the right man, Graham Hasselhoff.’

  He was floundering, confused beyond words. Nothing of what she said made any sense to him. It was a tale of a personal nightmare that had no connection with his world. Yet she seemed sure she knew who he was.

  ‘I don’t understand. Who are you? What has any of what you said got to do with me?’

  She shook her head, mournfully.

  ‘How quickly they forget. Use you and move on. You never struck me as that sort of guy – a bit shy and quite nice, on the whole, but not really the love them and leave them type. I guess it’s the quiet ones you have to watch.’

  She stood and walked towards him. He watched her with unseeing eyes, too distracted by the utter bafflement occupying his brain as he attempted to find anything in her words that struck even the faintest chord in his recollection. His perplexity was leading him to the edge of panic as he desperately tried to unravel the puzzle.

  ‘You really don’t remember me, do you?’ She stood no more than a foot in front of him now and leaned forward until her eyes burned into his, inches away.

  ‘Let me give you a clue.’

  She stooped to whisper in his ear.

  ‘My bedroom in the house in Meanwood. The night of the Lindisfarne concert.’

  She stood straight again, her gaze fixed on his face as the pieces began to fall into place.

  He had only one sexual experience in his three years as a student at Leeds – besides the drunken encounter with Lena Christopoulos in the halls on the eve of final results day, that is. It happened at her house in Meanwood after they had been to see Lindisfarne in concert at the Queen’s Hall and they went to a couple of pubs in town after the gig and she missed her last bus because they lost track of the time and he offered to walk her back to her digs and she invited him in for a coffee and all her housemates were already in bed, so they started kissing in the living room and then... oh god!

  ‘Sarah?’

  20

  I was so naive back then. I honestly thought you liked me, you know? I remember when I first saw you at the History Society meeting in the union bar and I was really glad just because you sat next to me and talked to me. I was that pathetic. And then, when you asked me if I’d like to meet up for a coffee in the refectory the next day, you started blushing and I sat there grinning, looking like an idiot. God, it makes me want to vomit just thinking about it.

  But I was actually happy. I’d never had a boyfriend. My parents sent me to a girls’ school, I think mostly so that they could protect me from being exposed to boys, but I was so awkward and gawky-looking that none of them ever wanted to come near me anyway. You were the first and I thought you were really nice. You’d listen to what I was saying when we talked and we made each other laugh and I started to think ‘This is what it must be like. This is how it feels to love somebody.’ I was properly loved up! After a couple of weeks! Can you believe that? What a stupid bitch.

  And oh! That concert! I’d never been to a proper gig before and I couldn’t get over the noise and the sway of the packed crowd and the joy! Everybody was having such a good time and singing along to all the songs and even though I didn’t know the words to any of them, it was so fantastic just to be part of it and feel like I belonged to something so ...euphoric. It was liberating in a way I hadn’t known before. Nobody could see you, nobody knew you, nobody cared who you were. You were one of them, part of the crowd, part of a shared experience and you could just let yourself go for an hour and a half or whatever it was and celebrate the freedom of being lost in the music.

  I remember all those sweaty bodies coming out of the concert hall and it being bloody freezing outside because it was the middle of December. You could see the steam rising from them when they got out onto the streets and I could hardly hear you because your voice was so croaky from singing along, so you suggested going to the pub. I knew I was cutting it fine for my last bus back to Meanwood but I didn’t want the night to end, so I didn’t say anything. I honestly didn’t expect you to walk me home because it was about an hour away and you were in a place near the centre, weren’t you? You said you wouldn’t let me go home alone because I think that was before the Yorkshire Ripper was arrested and the uni was very keen girls shouldn’t be out on their own at night, so you said you’d walk back with me. Very gallant. I was impressed by that and so glad.

  I couldn’t have been more content than I was on that walk home. It was so cold but I moved up close to you for warmth with one of my hands inside that thick RAF greatcoat you used to wear. You had your arm around me and were still singing Lindisfarne songs and I felt like I wanted life to be like that forever. I know it probably didn’t mean that much to you but I could tell you were happy as well, just perhaps not in the same way.

  When we got back to the house I made us hot drinks and I put the electric fire on full so we could warm up. You were starting to get a bit frisky by then and were making a thing of trying to get me to kiss you. I was playing along, being coy and shy - I was very shy then – but then, when we were on the settee together and started kissing properly, well. I’d never known what it was like for someone to desire me like that and it just felt wonderful. Then you got all embarrassed when you said you had some johnnies, like you thought you were about to spoil it all by overstepping the mark, but ...well, you know the rest.

  I did feel like I should say no because my parents used to tell me that men wouldn’t respect me anymore if I gave in to them and that I should save myself for when I met the one true love of my life but I felt that n
ight that I had found the love of my life. Going to bed with you was my way of expressing how I believed what we had was special. It felt so natural, like we were taking our relationship to the next level and that once we were there, we would keep going on and on and on forever, all the time making what we had stronger and stronger. It had only been a couple of weeks but I was infatuated. I could see myself with you for the rest of my life and I thought you felt that way too.

  I got that one wrong, didn’t I?

  Those two and a half weeks over Christmas after that night were the longest of my life. We both went home in the term break and the days just dragged. I didn’t want to eat, I couldn’t sleep, I wanted to burst into tears all the time. I was pitiful. My parents kept asking me what was wrong and I had to tell them I was ill and that just about everybody on the course had gone down with it at some stage. What was it they called it – freshers’ flu? I was sure my mum knew something else was going on but she didn’t want to say it. All I needed was to see you again or just talk to you but I daren’t let you have my parents’ phone number because they would have disapproved, so I had to keep you a secret. I had to suffer in silence, all the time counting down the days until we went back for the start of spring term. Even when my parents drove me back to Leeds it wasn’t over because I knew it would still be a couple of days until I’d get the chance to see you around. I kept hoping you might be there, waiting for me at the house, or that you might come round over the weekend before the start of term, but you didn’t.

  I knew something was wrong early on. You were still nice when it was just me and you. I suppose I expected you to be as smitten as I was and it disappointed me that you were just normal you but that was OK. It was when you were around those stupid mates of yours that was the problem. What dicks they were! They made me feel like I was shit on their shoes, looking down their oh-so-cool noses at me and cutting me dead every time I tried to join in their conversations and you just let them. I remember asking you why you were hanging around with such a bunch of tossers because I could see they didn’t treat you like you were part of their group either. They kind of allowed you to hang around with them and you behaved like you were so grateful for that and I couldn’t understand it.

  You kept saying ‘They’re my mates, they’re my mates. They’re a good laugh. You’ll come to like them as well soon. They’re not being funny with you. That’s just the way they are. They take the piss out of everybody. It’s a way of showing they like you really.’

  You couldn’t see it, could you? I didn’t want you to stop hanging around with other people – I wasn’t that obsessive – but not them. Did you think I was trying to stop you from being with anyone other than me? Is that why you started avoiding me?

  Don’t suggest you weren’t avoiding me because I knew you were. I even saw you change direction when you were walking across the quad one day and disappear into a building. You thought I hadn’t spotted you, didn’t you? Have you any idea how that made me feel?

  I was properly heartbroken. I couldn’t understand what I’d done wrong. I thought about packing in the course and going home but I couldn’t face that either. I had no idea how to handle it all but that wasn’t the worst of it. The worst of it came a couple of months later.

  I knew I didn’t feel well but I put that down to how I was about you. It must have been April, probably around the middle or late April, when I started with the strange feelings in my abdomen. It was a popping, rumbling sensation, a bit like trapped wind, and it happened more and more regularly. When I noticed the waistband on my jeans was feeling tighter and I could see that I was getting bigger I started imagining I had some sort of tumour or blockage, so I mustered some courage and decided I should go to see the doctor.

  I had no idea. Even when he sent me for a pee sample and a blood test, I had no idea. When he told me I was pregnant and about 18 to 20 weeks on, I was completely floored. I mean, if I hadn’t been sitting down they would have had to pick me off the ground. I couldn’t get my head around it because I’d still been bleeding every month and I didn’t know that could happen, so I’d never even considered it a possibility I could be carrying a baby. When you’re pregnant, your periods stop, right? That’s the first sign. Well, apparently not for everybody.

  Plus, we’d only done it once and we used contraception. I could tell that night you didn’t know much more about sex than I did but I didn’t think there was much that could go wrong with putting a condom on. Maybe we were – I was – just unlucky or was it that you bought your johnnies, as well as your coats, from the Army Surplus shop?

  Anyway, I was devastated. My world had ended. I didn’t know what to do. I had nobody I could turn to. There was no point trying to find you because you’d made it obvious you didn’t want anything else to do with me, so I packed a bag and caught a train home. I was dreading facing my parents but they were all I had. I thought they’d take care of me.

  My parents were always strict and protective. They wanted to know where I was all the time when I was younger and didn’t like me going out, even with friends, so they were dead set against me going to university. They wanted me to train to be a nurse or a teacher or something like that – so that I wouldn’t need to leave home and they could shelter me from the big bad world for a little longer. At the very least, they wanted me to go to uni in Sheffield and carry on living at home but Sheffield rejected me. Leeds and Newcastle offered me a place, so they reckoned Leeds was fairly close and let me go there. I know they didn’t want me to go at all but I really wanted to. I think it surprised them how much I stood up for myself and that made them realise I wasn’t their little girl anymore. I had to put up with weeks of warnings about how I would have to stay away from men and drink and drugs and how I would have to be disciplined so I could put everything into my studies, to make sure I came out of the three years with a good degree, and I made all the right noises to reassure them.

  The thing was, I meant every word. I’d never been a drinker, I wanted nothing to do with drugs and I didn’t think boys would be interested in me. They never had been.

  They looked so hurt when I told them. I felt like I’d betrayed their trust and I kept saying how sorry I was but they gave me nothing back. They just sat there with this awful disappointment written in their eyes and then they got angry. Really angry. They told me how much I’d let them down, reminded me how they’d warned me about these things, told me I had shamed them. Shamed myself and shamed the whole family. I begged them to forgive me but they wouldn’t. They told me it would be best if I left. I told them I didn’t have anywhere to go. They told me to go back to my boyfriend, that I was his responsibility now. I’d made my choice and I had to live with it. They told me to go – right then, that moment. They threw me out of the house. They told me it wasn’t my home anymore. They actually told me they no longer had a daughter.

  Can you believe that? How can parents be so cruel to their only child?

  So I was 18, five months pregnant and on my own. I had to go back to Leeds because all I had with me was a few things in a bag. I shut myself away in my room mostly but then one of the other girls in the house, who I hardly knew really, knocked on my door to see if I was OK. I poured it all out. I think I needed to offload it and she copped for the lot. Everything. She was really good, actually. She told me I needed to go to see Student Services and offered to go with me, for support.

  I decided I couldn’t put her to that trouble but I did go myself. The man I spoke to was very helpful and told me I could take time out and rejoin the course later, if I liked. I wanted to quit, though. He mentioned that I might still have options if I wanted to consider an abortion, but I couldn’t contemplate doing that. My upbringing, see. He also told me about what I could ask for from the council and I could see that was my only option. He tried to set me up with a meeting with the council there and then but I didn’t want to stay in Leeds. Maybe I would have been better if I had stayed in Leeds but I had to get away – too many bad memo
ries - and so I packed all my things in two suitcases and a rucksack and came back to Sheffield. I turned up at the council offices with all my stuff, having hauled it on and off the train on my own, and I felt so desperate that I broke down as soon as I walked into the reception. At least I got their attention! They interviewed me and said they could find me emergency accommodation so at least I had a roof over my head but, oh god, it was horrible!

  It was in one of the roughest parts of the city and the room was basic, to say the least. There were three other women in the house but it seemed like anybody could come and go as they pleased – men and women. It really wasn’t safe. There was a shared kitchen and the bathroom! I couldn’t believe the bathroom. It turned my stomach to have to use the toilet and there was no way I was going to use the bath, so apart from going downstairs to warm up some food I hardly left the room. The only security was a lock which I couldn’t get the key to turn in and a door chain which was practically hanging off the door frame. I had to manoeuvre one of my cases behind the door to barricade myself in and sat on my bed, trying to keep warm and getting more and more miserable.

  I thought I had to have reached my lowest ebb but then, on my third night there, I was woken up by somebody pushing against my door, trying to get in. I started screaming the place down but the person just started pushing harder against the door. The case was being nudged further with every push and the chain looked like it was about to give way and I was screaming and screaming but nobody came. I was thinking ‘How can they not hear me? Why doesn’t anybody come to help?’ but nobody did and then the chain burst free of the door frame and the case was pushed far enough and he was in.