Since You've Been Gone (13 page)

A
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first glance, English police stations don't seem much different than Canadian ones. According to Jermaine, this police station in Lewisham is the largest in Europe. To me, the worst thing about being stuck in a police station is that it reminds me of visiting Dad at his work when I was younger.

“We're putting a missing person's file out straightaway,” says the officer in charge of looking after us. He seems really young for a police officer, his gangly body attempting without success to fit properly into his uniform. He sits down on the bench beside us.

“I'm Officer Murphy, by the way,” he says. “Do you two want anything to drink whilst you wait? It might take a bit of time.”

“I'm okay,” I reply.

“We're just trying to contact your aunt right now,” Officer Murphy says. He looks over at Jermaine. “And your mum.”

“Brilliant,” he mumbles. “She's going to beat me into next year.”

Officer Murphy nods. The expression on his face becomes very serious. “By the way, that reporter isn't going to press assault charges. Apparently that bloke James that you were with somehow convinced him that you were suffering from post-traumatic shock.”

Jermaine smiles. “He deserved what he got. He was a wanker.”

Officer Murphy shakes his head. “You're just lucky he believed that rubbish. Next time, keep your fists to yourself. No use getting yourself in loads of trouble. If I went punching every twat and idiot I encounter in this city on a daily basis, I'd have fists as raw as mince.” He gets up. “Now, if you'll excuse me, I'll check and see what's going on as far as your aunt is concerned.”

“Where's your auntie?” Jermaine asks as soon as Officer Murphy walked away. “You didn't tell me you had family here.”

“She's not here,” I say. “She's somewhere in Ireland. Dublin, I think. I haven't seen her in ages and didn't have any way of contacting her.”

“That's tough,” he says. “Sorry we didn't find your mum … or catch your dad.”

“That's okay. You saved a kid instead. Not really a wasted day when you look at it that way.”

Jermaine smiles. “Can you imagine the look on Ms. Bryans's face when she hears the news?”

I laugh. “Maybe you'll get awarded a medal from the Queen for bravery and can invite her to the ceremony. She'd die.”

“Yeah,” he says with a wry smile. “She probably would die 'cos she's so convinced I'm heading for nothing but a life of crime. I'm not inviting that bitch anywhere.” He pauses for a moment. “Listen, Edie … you don't really know what's going to happen when they contact your aunt. Where you'll be, you know. Stuff like that.”

“I know,” I say. “But that's just the way it is. I'm just so tired. All I want is a normal life … to live in one place and go to one school.”

“Even if that means being stuck living in Lewisham?”

I turn to Jermaine. “Yep. I'd be especially happy to stay here.” And then, without warning, I lean over and hug him close.

Next thing I know, Officer Murphy is clearing his throat uncomfortably. I look up; he's standing in front of us, holding two Cokes. He raises his eyebrows at us, but there's more than a hint of amusement in his eyes.

“Thought I'd bring these just in case you changed your mind about having something to drink,” he says. “Jermaine, turns out your mum already learned about your heroics from the telly and is well chuffed. I don't think she needs to find out what happened afterward with the reporter. Unless you want to tell her.”

“Really?” Jermaine says, taking one of the Cokes from Officer Murphy. He pulls back the silver tab. “Thanks, mate. I appreciate it. She has enough on her plate already.”

“We'll be taking you home, then,” Officer Murphy says. “And let this be the last time you take a ride in a police car, unless you're driving one.”

“I'm not becoming part of the police,” Jermaine says with a scowl. He turns to me. “I can stay and wait with you if you want. I'll ring my mum. Or you can come and stay at our flat again.”

“Actually,” Officer Murphy interjects, “we've contacted Edie's aunt and she's booked on an early-morning flight from Dublin.” He turns to me. “In the meantime, we've arranged for you to stay with a local foster family tonight.”

My entire body goes cold. “But I can stay at my own place,” I protest.

Officer Murphy shakes his head. “You know I can't allow that. This is a really nice family and they're just down the road in Greenwich. Jenny and Bill Gilmore. You'll like them. And it's only for one night.”

I nod, trying to fight back tears. Part of me wants to just give up, but I know that's not what Mom would want.

“Listen, we'll drive Jermaine home and then take you into Greenwich. It's the best I can do.”

I nod again, not trusting myself to speak. Jermaine stands up first. He extends his hand to me and I gratefully take it. Together we follow Officer Murphy and his partner, a female police officer with hair the colour of fire, to the parking lot.

Once outside, the night air strikes me like a slap. It's the coldest night since my arrival. That seems fitting somehow.

Officer Murphy opens the door for me and I slip into the small car. Like everything in London, even police cars are miniaturized. I sigh into the darkness.

Jermaine climbs in beside me. As we drive out of the parking lot and onto a worn-looking residential street that's dimly lit by yellow sodium lights, I realize I have nothing with me.

“I haven't got a toothbrush or pajamas,” I say to no one in particular.

“Don't worry. Jenny and Bill will have all the necessities in terms of toiletries and whatnot,” Officer Murphy says, not taking his eyes off the road as he navigates the cruiser around a busy roundabout.

I stare out the window at the commuters emerging from the train station. A mother with two young children clutching her hands walks past. I hope they realize how lucky they are.

I close my eyes. Sure, these people will have a toothbrush and pajamas and everything else for me, I think. But they won't be my things. This is it. I'm officially in care, the one thing Mom worked so hard to keep from happening.

The rest of the ride to Jermaine's place is silent. I stare out the window as we drive past a variety of pubs, kebab shops, and Caribbean food shops. Nothing feels real.

Finally, we pull up in front of Jermaine's apartment block. Officer Murphy stops the car, turns on the light inside its cab, and twists around to face Jermaine.

“What you did today was incredibly brave,” he says. “That little boy is alive tonight because of you. However, if I ever hear of you doing something stupid like what you did at the hospital, I'll be your personal albatross. Got that?”

Jermaine nods. “Yeah, I got that.”

I continue staring out the window. This is it.

“You got a pen and paper, Officer Murphy?” Jermaine asks.

Officer Murphy digs around the glove compartment of the cruiser for a moment and then hands Jermaine a small notepad and a pen.

“Catchy,” Jermaine says. I have no idea what he's talking about.

“Don't be cheeky,” Officer Murphy replies.

After a few moments of hasty writing, Jermaine folds the piece of paper into a tiny square and hands it to me. I slip it into my coat pocket without looking. Tears blur my vision.

Jermaine leans across the seat. “You don't have to read it now,” he says. “Keep your chin up, Edie.”

I don't reply; I can't speak. I just want all the hurt to stop and the only way I know how to make that happen is to retreat into myself like a turtle drawing into its shell.

“Thanks for everything, Officer Murphy,” Jermaine says as he opens the door and climbs out. The door shuts behind him and I turn away, not wanting to watch him walk to the front door of his building. I can picture it in my head anyhow; I know his saunter, the way he walks with his shoulders out first, swinging one and then the other forward.

I'm so tired of saying goodbye to all the people and things I care about in my life.

T
he
Gilmores aren't as bad as I thought they'd be. They're actually much younger than I expected, likely in their mid-thirties with no children of their own. Probably taking care of screwed-up kids like me turned them off that idea.

Their house is a narrow, red-brick place on a quiet, residential street. The inside feels warm and safe as soon as I walk into the front hall with its over-filled coat-rack and bright paintings of flowers.

“This will be your room,” Jenny says. She opens the door to a cozy room filled with stuffed animals and books. “You can move the toys off the bed, of course,” she says with an apologetic smile. “We sometimes get much younger children staying.”

I nod. Jenny, with her short, bleached-blond hair and pierced nose, bears an uncanny resemblance to Gwen Stefani. I can hear murmurs of conversation drifting up from the living room below where Officer Murphy and his partner are no doubt filling Bill in on my situation.

“This must be hard for you,” Jenny adds. “And you might not want to talk, which is fine. But if you need anything at all, including someone to just listen, let me know. Okay?”

I nod again. Suddenly, a flash of orange and white dashes between my legs and lands like a projectile on the green-and white-flowered bedspread.

“Bedlam! You bloody mad cat!” Jenny cries. She turns to me. “You're not allergic, are you?”

“No, I love cats,” I quickly answer. Jenny strides over to the bed and scoops up the cat. It peers excitedly out from under her arm at me.

“Good!” Jenny says. “Because when Bedlam isn't acting like a complete nutter, he's actually quite good company.”

I watch as Bedlam begins to struggle against Jenny's arms, kicking with his back feet and wiggling his body in about ten different directions at once in a bid for freedom.

“You can leave him in here,” I say. “I hope you don't mind but I think I am going to just go to bed. I'm really tired after everything that happened today.”

Jenny frowns slightly. “That's not a problem. Are you sure you don't want anything to eat? We've just finished eating and there's still loads left. And Bill's Spaghetti Bolognese is really something else.”

I shake my head. “No thanks,” I say. I just want to sleep and escape reality for a few hours.

Officer Murphy appears in the doorway. “Sorry, Edie, but we need to make our way back to the station.”

“Thanks for everything,” I say.

“My pleasure. I wish things could've worked out differently for you. Here's my card,” he says. “Don't hesitate if you need anything.”

“Okay,” I say. He gives me a little half-wave, turns, and is gone.

I'm overwhelmed by the kindness that so many people — virtual strangers — are showing me. I have no idea what my future might hold now. Maybe Aunt Siobhan won't even want me. After all, as far as I know, she's single and quite a few years younger than Mom. I'm sure suddenly having to take care of a teenager isn't number one on her wish list.

“There are pajamas and toiletries in the top drawer of the dresser for you,” Jenny says, interrupting my thoughts. “I'll leave you to it, then.”

“Thanks,” I say.

Jenny smiles warmly. “You're most welcome. Good night, Edie.” She looks at Bedlam, who is kicking at one of the stuffed animals on the bed. “Be good, Bedlam,” she says, wagging a finger in his direction. “Just toss him out in the hallway if he bothers you,” she adds, closing the door behind as she leaves.

I wake the next morning to the sound of knocking at the bedroom door. Bright sunshine streams into the room through translucent white curtains. I lift my head from the pillow and glance over at the alarm clock on the dresser. It's already eleven o'clock! I've slept for ages.

“Come in,” I mumble. I notice the door is slightly ajar and that Bedlam is nowhere in sight.

Jenny peers cautiously into the room. “Good morning, Edie,” she says brightly. “I suspected you might want a bit of a lie-in so we didn't wake you, but there is someone here to see you.”

I open my mouth to protest. After all, I'm sitting here, hair a mess, teeth unbrushed, wearing some crazy striped flannel pajama set.

But before I have the chance to say anything, Jenny steps aside and another woman walks cautiously into the room. She gives me a nervous smile.

Aunt Siobhan! Though it's been years since I've seen her, she looks nearly the same, aside from her face being thinner than I remember. Same auburn hair, same lopsided smile. She's wearing a simple green shift dressed paired with black motorcycle boots.

“Edie,” she says. “Do you remember me? You were so young last time I saw you.” Her voice cracks with emotion.

I remember. It was right before everything happened. Siobhan had come to visit us in Toronto. We'd gone all over the city and the entire time Dad was on his best behaviour. He could be so charming when he needed to be.

“Of course,” I say. My heart aches. I can see Mom in her eyes, in the way she walks.

She rushes over, sits down, and scoops me up in her arms. I crumple against her. “I'm so sorry all of this has happened to you.”

“It's okay,” I say just before I burst into tears.

She holds me for a couple of minutes while I sob like a baby.

“What's going to happen?” I ask when I'm finally able to regain composure.

Siobhan lets go of me and takes a deep breath. Her eyes are red and swollen as well. Clearly she's done her own share of crying recently.

“We're going to go by the flat and get some of your belongings,” she says. “Edie, the police are there at the moment, so we really need to go as soon as possible.”

“Why are they there? What's going to happen to Mom's stuff?”

Siobhan pauses. “The flat is being treated as a crime scene. It seems that some of your neighbours saw Sydney — your mum — struggling with a man a few days ago. The police said they sent people around to try to locate you.”

So that's why the community officers were at the flat. If only I hadn't run. Maybe I could've helped them find Mom.

“I've rented us a hotel room not far from here,” Siobhan continues. “The police are going to need you to give some statements.”

I play with the edge of the bedcover. “Why do they need to talk to me?”

“Your dad came forward to the police today. Apparently the newscast with you and Jermaine compelled him. He's saying that he and your mom were just going to talk, to put closure to things and that she became irate and tried to attack him and, that in defending himself, there was an accident … and she hit her head.” She stops and bites her bottom lip nervously. “He took her to his hotel room instead of the hospital. She was unconscious and he was scared. Or so he says. The cause of death was internal brain bleeding. She never woke up, Edie.”

The bedcover is fraying. It's coming apart. I continue picking at the threads with my fingers. The world is white noise and I am suddenly very small.

“I wish Sydney had never met him! I'm sorry for saying that, Edie, because you wouldn't be here. It's just she'd still be alive and I would've been able to spend so much more time these past few years with her. She always worried this would happen and that you'd be left alone.” Her face twists with pain and sorrow. “She told me everything in her letters. It's all documented and I kept every last one.” She begins to tremble and tears slip down her cheeks. “And here I'm supposed to be strong for you.”

She hugs me close to her again but I'm numb. All I wanted was the truth but I hadn't really believed I would lose Mom. He found us and I hadn't been able to protect her. We'd come all this way for nothing.