Something Quite Beautiful (7 page)

Warren wriggled in the seat, but his discomfort was nothing that a physical shift could cure. He could see that he had no alternative but to talk.

‘I... I grew up in Sheffield on the moors. It was quite bleak, but I loved it. I used to walk for miles, I was always out somewhere and at night I would sit looking out of my bedroom window and I could see the lights of the city twinkling down below us; they looked like stars that had fallen. I loved going to school, I know a lot of kids hate it, but I didn’t. I loved it. I mean, I didn’t really have friends and I was laughed at and all that, but I wanted to learn whatever they could teach me and I got lunch every day and that was nice. I used to watch the clock go round, waiting for lunch time.’ He felt his cheeks redden at the admission. ‘We were quite poor. We were very poor. It was just me, my mum and my Nan in the house and then just me and my mum after my Nan passed away. I never had a dad, but that was okay, because I’d never had one. I didn’t realise how poor we were until I saw how other people lived, if that makes any sense. I kind of looked after me and my mum and then Amy came along, that’s my baby sister.’ He looked up and smiled as he said her name. ‘There was still no bloke on the scene, but Amy was like a brilliant new present, I couldn’t believe that something so small could take up so much space, but she did and noisy, cor, she went from bawling all night as a baby to singing all day as a toddler, she hasn’t shut up yet I don’t think!’

Edwina swallowed the bubble of envy that rose in her throat.
You lucky thing, Mr Binns, your lucky mum! Oh to live in a house where a baby filled it with noise and a toddler filled it with song!

Warren continued, unaware of the effect of his words. ‘She brightened up the place and was sharp as a button, smart, a proper little mimic. All she ever wanted was for me to read books to her; she liked that better than anything. She used to follow me everywhere, whatever the weather. I used to say she drove me mad and try and make her go back to the house, but I liked it really. She’d make me presents, like a picture of an owl made out of pasta that she stuck on with glue, and cards with sweet wrappers stuck on the front. I put the owl one up on my wall. She was like my own little fan club and she relied on me, so even though neither of us had a dad, it was like she did in some ways, because she had me and I told her I would always look after her.’ Warren paused and exhaled, he looked at his fingers which lay knitted in his lap. ‘And then when I was fourteen things changed a lot for me, for us. My mum hooked up with this bloke, Dave. He was alright at first and it was nice to get things, I must admit. He used to bring us sweets and he bought me a pair of football boots and I was dead chuffed, I’d never had a pair before. He bought Amy a pram for her dolls and that made me really happy, cos she never had stuff like that either. They got married and I was happy to have a dad at first, it was a really good day, my mum laughed all day long and I had to wear a suit. I thought it was the start of something really good, but he turned out to be a lazy pig, a really nasty piece of work. By the time I realised what he was really like it was too late. My mum had kind of shrunk, she just went quiet, and he called all the shots, even though it was our house, where we had always lived way before him, it was like he owned the place. We were all frightened of him. He started to knock my mum about and then started on me and I could have coped with that, I did cope with that for a number of years.’ Warren closed his eyes briefly and saw the fist coming towards his face; his mum’s voice in background, softly begging,
Please Dave, leave him alone... no... no more...

‘I planned on leaving, I worked hard at school so I could get taken on in an apprenticeship, I was doing okay. I was just going to disappear one day and leave him wondering where I’d got to, not that he’d have cared. I wanted to take Amy with me, I was trying to work out how I could do it, just waiting for the chance. I think about that now and I can see that it wasn’t practical, I don’t know how I would have looked after her and done an apprenticeship and we didn’t have anywhere to live, plus of course my mum would probably have come and got her back. But, it was weird, it was like I couldn’t think straight and in my head, I convinced myself it was all possible and I was just waiting for the right time to escape. One day, I came home from college early and...’ Warren swallowed the sharp pull of tears that slid down his throat. He exhaled through bloated cheeks, trying to keep it together. ‘I’m sorry.’

‘That’s okay, Warren, you take your time.’

‘I came home early and he was laying face down on the sofa. I could smell the drink on him, but that wasn’t unusual, he went up the club most lunchtimes and got pissed and then he’d sleep all afternoon until he could go back to the club and drink some more. I thought he was on his own, I was going to tiptoe up the stairs past him and leave him to it, but he wasn’t.’ Warren paused to swipe at the tears that now coursed freely down his cheeks, angry and embarrassed. ‘He wasn’t on his own. He was on top of Amy. I could see her little hand sticking out from under his fat gut; she was still holding her blanky, gripping it tightly. She’d painted her little fingernails and the polish had worn off; I could see these little blobs of pink, sparkly paint, hanging onto her blanky. She was seven years old—’ his mouth was contorted with crying now ‘—I didn’t think about what to do, I just did it. I ran to the cupboard under the stairs and grabbed the chisel from my toolbox. I went back into the front room and I reached under his gut and I stuck it in him, up under his ribs, just once, but I stabbed him hard. I meant to kill him, I did. I wanted him dead and that’s what I told the judge. She was seven and she was the only thing in our shitty little family that wasn’t broken, she was the only thing that was perfect and I had made a promise to look after her. But I broke that promise, I broke it, because I didn’t keep her safe, did I?’ Warren’s face was red and blotchy, and he hung his head to wipe furiously at his eyes.

The Principal didn’t say a word, and so Warren carried on, injecting a false note of brightness into his voice as if trying to lighten the mood. ‘So that’s it! And now I’m here. And when Henry said something not very nice about Amy, I couldn’t handle it. I don’t mind a joke or the piss-taking that you expect in here, but not her, nothing about her. She’s just a little girl and she’s already been through too much.’ He fought to get his breath under control.

Edwina Justice swung her leather swivel chair around and contemplated the collage on the corkboard behind her. The two sat in silence.

It was some moments before she spoke. ‘I think when the very worst thing that can happen, happens, it puts your whole life in perspective in a way that’s impossible for others to understand.’ She pictured the moment Alan’s hand had gone limp inside her palm, she had squeezed it tightly and then tapped it with her fingertips, trying to bring him back. His eyes stared ahead, his jaw slack and she remembered asking him,
Where have you gone?
To which, of course, he didn’t reply.

Warren listened.

‘I haven’t experienced anything like you, but my husband died; he got sick very suddenly and died within two weeks. That was nearly twenty years ago. We had so much yet to achieve and I watched all our hopes and plans disappear in a heartbeat. It shocked me then and it shocks me now. I miss him every single day, I still expect him to phone me or to walk through the door and every time I remember that it is never going to happen, I start to grieve all over again. You would think it might get easier, but it doesn’t. I used to wonder what the point of carrying on was. It all felt so pointless when the person I wanted to live with was no longer here, the person who gave my life meaning, who welcomed me home. But then I realised that life is precious and you have to carry on, no matter how hard or how hurt or how much you long to disappear. You have to carry on, because life is precious.’ She turned the chair to face Warren. ‘Do you understand that?’ He nodded. She continued, ‘I believe some people are born bad...’

Warren heard his stepdad’s words,
You useless little bastard, just like your shit of a father...

‘And I believe some people simply find themselves in bad situations.’

Warren nodded again, not trusting himself to speak, he got it, he was born bad. He half wanted it to be over,
Go on get out your gun, just shoot me, I know I’m a useless little bastard and I know I failed, I broke my promise. I said I’d keep her safe and I didn’t. He hurt her and I wasn’t there to stop him...

‘You must miss your sister very much?’

He nodded, it was the first time he had allowed himself to think about her in a very long time. ‘I do. I miss her every day. And my mum. But at least I know that they are safe now, that he’s not there to hurt them. He’ll never hurt them ever again, and that makes it kind of worth it.’ 

Edwina Justice leant forward on her desk, ‘I understand that sentiment. I have worked with offenders my whole life and I have a knack for seeing beneath the veneer, Mr Binns. It’s nothing you can be trained for, but is more of a gift or a curse, depending on how you look at it. I can tell when a person is lying. I can tell when a person is so full of evil that the only answer is to lock him away for a very long time. Unpleasant though it is, it’s how I keep others safe, and keeping everyone safe has to be my priority. And then occasionally I can see that a person who is good has done bad things, sometimes to protect himself, sometimes to protect others, sometimes to survive. I am rarely, if ever, wrong.’

Warren stared at the woman sat in front of him. Where was this going?

Edwina Justice turned in her chair and reached under her desk. Warren gripped the arms of the chair and closed his eyes; he did not want to stare down the barrel. He remembered the feel of the guard’s Smith and Wesson against his temple. He trembled as he waited for the tell-tale click of the gun being readied. This was it.
I’m sorry, Amy, I’m sorry I let him hurt you. I’m sorry I let you down, Mum. I love you both so much, I always have and I always will. Be a good girl, Amy, carry on reading. I love you...

The Principal almost whispered, ‘Please, open your eyes.’

He slowly opened his eyes and blinked away the sweat that had fallen from his brow. He noticed a large khaki rucksack that sat on the desk between them.

‘Do you believe in second chances, Warren?’

Warren shook his head. ‘No. No, I don’t.’

‘You don’t?’

‘No.’ He shook his head again.

‘Why not?’

‘Because I’ve never been given one and so I don’t think they exist.’

She smiled, unable to fault his simple logic. ‘What if I was to tell you that they do exist, Warren?’

‘Then I probably wouldn’t believe you.’

He held her gaze, maybe second chances existed in her world of blazers and pearls, but not in his. He had spent the best part of his life wishing: wishing for hot food to materialise in his hands, for a thick duvet to magic itself from thin air, and for a drunken bastard to fall down a hole, break his neck and never be found. He had given up wishing, his wishes never came true.

Edwina Justice stood and held the rucksack in her hands. ‘Stand up, Warren.’

He stood, slowly.

‘I want you to take this.’ She placed the pack in his hesitant hands. ‘In this rucksack are a new passport, a change of clothes, some sturdy boots, waterproofs, a tent and some money, a lot of money, enough money for you to start over. Your new name is Zac Porter. This is your second chance.’

Warren ran his palm over the nylon fabric. It took a moment for his brain to understand what was being said. What was the catch?

Edwina walked over to the large green filing cabinet and twisted the middle handle. The three deep drawers were no such thing; they were in fact a door. Using both hands, she heaved the door open.

Zac peered through it and blinked. It was the first time in eighteen months that he had seen the outside world. He was looking at a beautiful garden. Flowers of every colour fought for space along crowded paths. Trees were dotted among the expanse of grass. His eye was drawn to a square of pale shingle bearing a cluster of bright blue china pots, holding neatly trimmed green shrubs. Low, square cut hedges surrounded bushes of roses, and heavy bowers of bloom-laden branches shook in the gentle breeze. It was breathtaking.

‘You have earned your sunlight, Zac. Go far far away and make a wonderful life for yourself, become all the things that I know you are capable of. You are a wonderful boy, who tried your best. You saved Amy, you set her free, and because of you
she
has a second chance. Never forget that. I want you to remember the rules that I have taught you. Abide by them and use your skills. Your life is out there waiting for you, the life that you should have had. You must give yourself the life that you deserve. Dont waste it, Zac, don’t waste one minute and remember that life is precious.’

Zac smiled at the Principal. ‘Is this what happened to Bo and Holy Joe?’

‘Now, Zac, I told you a long time ago, you only had that one question!’

‘Okay, I’m sorry. But could you tell Keegan...’

‘No. I can’t.’ She held up her palm, interrupting him, ‘because Warren Binns doesn’t exist anymore and Mr Lomax has never met or even heard of Zac Porter. It’s how it has to be. You understand that, don’t you?’

Zac nodded, he got it. He smiled at her. ‘I don’t know what to say to you. I don’t know how to thank you, for everything you’ve done. Thank you, thank you for believing me.’

‘There are just two things I ask of you, Mr Porter.’

Zac looked at the smiling face of his benefactor, still unused to his new name. ‘Anything, I’ll do anything at all.’

‘The first thing is to always make time to appreciate something beautiful, no matter how small.’

Zac nodded, he would learn what that meant and he would do it.

‘And secondly, when you are settled in your new life, wherever that might be, please send me a postcard, so I can stop worrying about you.’

Zac smiled at her and nodded. Edwina Justice extended her arm in the direction of the garden. He stepped forward and hesitated, before putting his arms around her and holding her close, the way a boy might hold his mum. Zac placed the rucksack on his back and stepped over the threshold, into the light.