Cross Her Heart(75)

Within twenty minutes I’m at the station and ten minutes later I’m on a train. I’ll be in Skegness in under two hours. I sit back in my seat, Ava’s photo gripped tight in my hand, and stare out at the countryside rolling backwards through the window like it’s returning me to my childhood.

It’s time to end all this. I’m coming to find you, Katie.





61


BEFORE


1989

She needs to find Katie. Only Katie can make her feel better. Katie will be waiting for her. But to get to Katie she has to leave her bedroom. She’s been curled up on her bed, mattress wet with piss, a chair up against the door, all morning. No one’s tried to come in. Her head thumps. The pills don’t make her feel good any more, just as if she’s somewhere behind a glass wall away from the rest of the world and her thinking is foggy. She wants to take another one anyway. She’s got a packet stashed in her jacket pocket. Ma will have to get some more, but fuck her. Nothing can get any worse.

Ma has been at Jean’s house overnight. A girls’ night and then shopping today for her birthday, that’s what Jean told Tony when she came over yesterday. She said it in her ‘no arguments’ voice. Jean’s the only one who can do that with Tony. When he started to complain she said Charlotte could look after Daniel – Won’t do the girl any harm to have some responsibility, she’s off the rails, any fool can see – and even though Ma protested a little, that was that, a bag was packed, and they were gone. No one argues with Jean.

If Ma had been here, the thing with Tony wouldn’t have happened. Ma might be a bitch but she wouldn’t stand for it. Not for Charlotte but for herself. It’s hazy in her head and if she wasn’t sore and bruised, she’d wonder if it was some horrible dream.

It was late. It was dark. She was asleep. She’d shoved Daniel in front of shite cartoons with beans on toast before retreating to her room and drinking some of the cheap vodka kept hidden under her bed, bought with money Katie had given her. Katie was worried about her. Katie wanted to help make it better. Katie warmed her more than the alcohol ever could but Katie wasn’t around often enough and Charlotte needed the booze to get through the days.

There wasn’t much left in the bottle. What had been a sometimes thing had now changed into a habit but she didn’t want to think about that either. Anyway, everything would be different when she and Katie ran away. She wouldn’t need the drink then, they would have champagne in glasses like those Babycham ones, and it would be for fun and not to squash all the stuff that was burning to come out. Better out than in, dear. There wouldn’t be anything to come out when it was only her and Katie. Everything would be perfect.

There would be no more nights like last night. She doesn’t want to think about it but she can’t stop thinking about it. She needs to leave her bedroom but she’s too scared. She needs Katie. She shuts her eyes against her headache but that sends her straight back to the darkness of last night. To what happened. Then, despite herself, it’s replaying in her head.

For a moment, when he’d opened the door, there’d just been a shape against the hall light. She remembers the sudden brightness and thinking What shite is this, Daniel, what do you want now? before her brain woke up and realised that the figure there was far too big to be her little brother. Daniel was still sleeping safely in his cot. Daniel, always safe.

The door closed, leaving her with the terrible grunting, grumbling monster in the darkness. Sweat. Stink. A crushing weight. Hands, so many hands. His mutterings as his breath got faster. The shameful pain. The breath on her face. It was like the chippie, but worse, so much worse, because it was home and the monster in the dark was Tony, and he was doing it and they never did it in the chippie even if they wanted to, just all the other stuff, and it was so much worse than she imagined and if he was doing it, then who would stop them doing it there?

It didn’t last long, and then he was gone and she was left breathless and shaking and alone in the dark. She pissed herself after. Not even asleep this time. She just couldn’t move. She still can’t move. But she has to. Katie is waiting. She takes half of one of Ma’s pills and drags herself up. Her wet pyjamas are on the floor, the bottoms torn. She doesn’t look at them as she pulls on some pants and her jeans and jumper. She doesn’t look at her body either. She wants to scrub herself down to nothing, but not here, not if he’s in the house.

Dressed, she takes the vodka from under her bed and swallows two long mouthfuls, letting it burn her clean from the inside. She moves the chair and opens the door quietly. She’s afraid and she hates being afraid. She tries to turn it into anger, and she knows that will come, but not until she’s outside and away. It’s hard to be angry feeling so small.

She can hear the TV’s on, some horse racing programme, and her legs shake as she comes down the stairs, slowly and carefully, staying quiet and where is Ma if only Ma were here even if she was calling me a little bitch and a pain in the arse she’d be here and wincing at any creak in the floorboard that might cause Tony to shout out to her or worse.

Her heart in her mouth, she peers into the sitting room. Beer cans on the floor. A takeaway box. Legs, dressed, stretched out on the sofa. A low growl of a sound. Snoring. Relief floods through her, a rush better than anything the pills can give her. Asleep. He’s asleep.

‘Charrot?’