Time to Play (North East Police) (27 page)

‘Aye, why not,’ replied Ali, following as Marlo unlocked the door and stepped inside her flat.

‘Am just gunna go get changed – would you do the honours? The pods are right by the machine.’

‘Sure.’

Ali made his way into the kitchen. The flat was designed exactly the same as his, though the décor differed. It was still neutral colours, but was more feminine with pictures of flowers and metal wall art mounted where he had photos.

Marlo was back in seconds, dressed more comfortably in jogging pants and a T-shirt. ‘Sorry, I don’t normally wear my uniform to come home in but to be honest I was ready to get out of there today.’

Ali handed her a cup, and made his way into the living room. ‘Mum rang me a couple of hours ago, said she and Elvie were going to bed so it looks like I’m on the sofa when I get back in. The bairn isn’t looking forward to tomorrow.’

‘Crap, Elvie didn’t even cross my mind. That’s awful of me, isn’t it? Is she OK? Wait – tomorrow? I thought she was seeing immigration today?’

‘Not awful, but completely understandable after today. She was – but I was at the reservoir. I rescheduled. I don’t want her going through that alone. She’s fine, love. I must take her to the station tomorrow though, can’t keep pretending it’s all OK. I’ll give her a statement towards her asylum, but it’s overdue time to get this sorted out.’

‘I know,’ said Marlo, her voice sounding small. She was mortified when she felt tears well in her eyes.

‘Hey, come on, love. It’s OK, she’ll be alright,’ Ali was startled, she could tell by his face, and that just made the tears want to come even harder.
What the hell is the matter with me? I’m not this sobby, emotional mess. Get a grip!

‘Sorry,’ she whispered, putting her cup down and wiping her eyes with her hands. ‘Dunno what the hell this is all about.’

‘We all need a good cry every now and then. Come here.’

Marlo felt herself stiffen as he pulled her into his arms. Her tears refused to listen to her logic, and fell for a few more seconds, her mouth nuzzled into his neck. His arms felt good wrapped round her like that. They were warm, and made her feel like nothing could touch her as long as she stayed there. Sniffing, she let him hold her for a minute. It had been a long time since anyone had done that, just been there at the right time and held her just because she needed it.

The air shifted, moving from comfort into something else. Suddenly his arms weren’t just protective, they were muscular and made her skin tingle. Her mouth was so close to his neck that she could feel his pulse jump against her lips, and not thinking, she leaned further in and kissed him there. He froze, but didn’t object, and not quite ready to stop, she kissed his neck again, this time flicking with her tongue as her lips closed. He tasted like sweet and salt at the same time, and she pulled back to look at him.

Her mind didn’t have time to forge any arguments as Ali leaned forward and his lips met hers, hard. She groaned into his mouth, and he deepened the kiss, pulling himself around and over her in one motion. She almost didn’t recognise herself as her hands pulled at his shirt frantically, eventually ripping the last couple of buttons off. Her neck arched towards him as he nipped at her neck and closed his hands over her breasts.

Marlo had no idea how she became naked and was glad she’d kept the box of condoms in the drawer on her coffee table. As he pushed into her she felt herself open and move to meet him with the same enthusiasm. She gasped as he sank deeper into her, and he captured her mouth with his again. Her nails scratched down his back as they met each other’s rhythm, both getting harder and faster until her orgasm broke around him, causing him to follow suit.

His chest was crushing her breasts, every sense tingling as he lay on top of her, spent for the moment. And then, ultimate tenderness, as he shifted his weight, and kissed her, more leisurely this time. His fingers played along the length of her arm, and she turned, snuggling into his chest, silent as he kissed the top of her head.

Ali reached up with one hand and pulled the mink effect throw down from the back of the sofa and covered them both. Tomorrow would be soon enough to wonder what the hell had just happened; for now, they were warm, comfortable and absolutely exhausted.
 

Chapter Twenty-Six

17
^th
November, 0240 hours – Connor’s parent’s address, Sunderland

James Maynard sat himself in the chair in the room. It was almost dead silent, the padding on the walls blocking out any sound from outside, not that there was much at this time of the morning. The ticking of the clock was irritating, though: he’d never realised how loud it was when that was the only noise you could hear. How the girls had put up with it he didn’t know.

Because you never gave them an option, dickhead. They didn’t get any choice in what happened to them.

It wasn’t right, what he’d done. The more he thought about it, the more he understood that there would be no explaining it away. There was no magic ‘forget’ pill, nothing that would ever make these feelings of desolated worthlessness and guilt disappear. And why should there be? He’d done the most horrible things to those girls. Unspeakable things that belonged in late night crime shows and documentaries.

He’d thought he understood at first, figured by teaching them pain that they would go on to survive and be stronger. But he’d never actually let them go so they could even try to survive. He’d played God, decided when things weren’t going so well. He alone had made them cry and weep with pain and anguish, had terrified them every time he’d entered this forsaken room. He’d even had the forethought and planning to soundproof the walls. And he’d decided when to clasp his hands round their throats, and squeeze every inch of life from them. Except for Nita – she had been the exception.

James knew he deserved everything he was going to get.

His whole life had turned to shit. It had happened so gradually he hadn’t even seen it coming, hadn’t noticed its approach. How could he fuck everything up so royally?

He didn’t even deserve to be on this earth. He was utterly useless, a waste of space and time.

Fred had told him often enough, always rubbing it in as he’d slunk into the whore house to pick out his latest girl.

He should have stopped ages ago, not given Fred the satisfaction of seeing him return time after time. Shouldn’t have let his own brother see just how low he’d become.

For some reason, Fred had always seen himself as better than him, had bigged it up even as a kid when his knobbly knees knocked together as he ran through the fields they’d called home. And James Maynard had always just put up with the bullying, never moaned when he
knew
that it was Fred who had killed Stinky, didn’t grass him up when their dad had found weed in the bedroom they shared so had ended up getting the blame as the oldest, and had coped with Fred kicking and punching him out of utter meanness.

When he’d met Sheila he thought he’d found redemption. He barely spoke to Fred any more unless he’d turned up at the house unexpectedly. It hadn’t been a hard decision to move to the North East.

And then they’d found they couldn’t have kids. His worthless body refusing to give Sheila the sperm she needed. She’d been completely and utterly devastated. Fred had a couple of kids, not that he saw them, but James had been jealous. It started to cause problems in his marriage, him being so desolate that he believed Sheila needed to find someone else.

He’d all but pushed Sheila into Fred’s arms, practically begging the pair to make the child his beloved wife so desperately wanted. And she’d been so happy when she’d fallen, and all the heartache had seemed worth it.

When Connor had been born, he thought he’d have felt a niggle of unease, a shred of envy that the boy wasn’t his, but Sheila had made sure that where he might’ve had doubts, she was there to bolster him up. They’d recovered, slowly, and finally he’d started to feel like a man again.

Then Sheila had told him she was pregnant again.

He hadn’t even realised that she’d still been shagging his brother, had thought that with Connor, they had everything they needed together.

He’d left then, for a long while. Did some things he was ashamed of. Fred had hooked him up with some of his girls, hell, he’d been classed as a regular for a while. He’d lost his way, smoking dope and ending up high every chance he got, and always with a girl on his arm. A girl he’d paid for with money he should’ve been spending on Connor. Then Sheila had called him from the hospital to tell him Marie had been born and, curious, he’d had to visit. The tiny little girl had grabbed his fingers with hers, and he’d been completely and utterly lost. He’d moved home the next night, stopped smoking and getting hammered, hadn’t stopped the girls though. He’d still been somewhat regular at the brothel. Not that Sheila ever found out.

He’d begged Sheila then to stop seeing Fred, pleaded with her to be happy with two children so they could be a family, and she’d agreed.

They’d said they would never tell the kids, would bring them both up as though none of the shit from the past had any impact.

And it hadn’t.

Until now.

Sobs suddenly broke free from his body. All that pain, years and years of bottling it all up and never letting it out, years of coping now with the way Sheila was, all flooded to the surface and escaped. It wasn’t right. None of it was right.

He’d had enough.

All the girls he’d tried to teach to cope with pain, and it was all for jack shit. It meant nothing.

All he’d done was inflict pain on other people. It was all he’d done for his entire life. His son now couldn’t even bear to look at him. He’d watched earlier when he’d been round the house. Watched as Connor had made Sheila a cup of coffee, then sat on the sofa, his agony resounding around the room in a silent echo. 

And James had finally understood.

Pain was normal.

Everyone had it in their lives. It had been wrong to pretend otherwise. But most people didn’t pick girls out from a line-up like cattle, beat the crap out of them with bare hands. Normal people didn’t do that. He already knew he wasn’t normal, had struggled hiding it from Sheila as he’d visited the seediest of places and done things with the girls that she would never have let him do in a million years. But he’d always at least thought he wasn’t crazy. That he could cope with his own life.

But the deeper into her Alzheimer’s Sheila had got, the worse his behaviour had become.

He sat in the chair and sobbed until there were no more tears. His body eventually stopped shaking and he felt physically exhausted.

Standing, he turned on the lamp on the workbench and pulled out the notebook and pen from his pocket. He wouldn’t back out this time. He couldn’t live with who he had become and he needed to make sure that Connor and Marie understood.

Putting the pen to the paper, he started writing.

Dear Connor and Marie,

I know you won’t understand any of this, but it’s how it has to be. I had to do this, it was the only way. I’ve done such terrible things.

When your mum was diagnosed with her Alzheimer’s, I was stupid and thought it would take ages to take hold, and that we’d been together so long that she’d never, ever be able to forget me. But she did, and at times it felt, and still feels, like my heart was being pulled out from my chest.

I thought, that if I took in some girls in trouble, that I could help them understand pain so that it would be easier for them, easier than it had been for me and you both at any rate. I thought they’d learn to handle pain, and then I’d let them go and they would just get it, you know? I never meant to strangle them. I never meant to keep going back to Fred and getting more. There were seven in total. I only took them so they could learn.

But I couldn’t teach them anything but pain and fear. I couldn’t even let them go to see if they could survive. They’d seen me, you see, knew my face. They would have ruined our whole family. As it turns out, it wasn’t them that ruined us, it was me.

I’m so sorry I hit you Connor, and I can’t even describe how I feel about you both finding out that I’m not your dad. It was never meant to be like this. I loved you both so much from the second you were born. The nurse placed you in my arms and it didn’t matter who had got your mum pregnant, it just didn’t matter anymore. You were both the children of my heart, and I was there for every football game, every dance recital, every school play.

I know this is the coward’s way out, and I know you’ll both be upset. But it really is the only way - without me you will both continue with your lives; your mum will go in the home you both want and maybe even she’ll be happier.

All I know is I fucked everything up. I wish… well, wishing doesn’t do any good really, does it. I’ve said what I wanted to say. I hope it’s neither of you who find me, and I’m so sorry for everything. Look after your mother, and each other. And always remember that none of this is your fault.

My love always,

Your Dad.

This was it - the sum total of his achievements was in this room. And it amounted to nothing.

Calm now, he reached for the rope he’d rigged above the door, and wrapped it round his neck. The note was on the work top, the pen placed neatly beside it.

Having the rope round his neck didn’t feel like he’d thought it would.

He’d thought that when his oxygen was cut off he’d feel panic, put the weight back onto his legs to relieve the constriction at his throat – but he didn’t.