Authors: Cath Staincliffe
Bemused and disoriented she had gone, for the best of reasons, sitting tight, loathing the man beside her and with no idea how brutal and ruthless he was. She had gone. In the car. How long till she realised he wasn’t taking her to see Melody and a social worker? Perhaps he said they’d meet at the Town Hall. But he drives another way, towards the Arndale Centre, into the car park. Her panic mounting, her terror of high places freezing in her veins. Perhaps still hoping that it would all come right, that nothing could happen here, in a busy city centre car park. That Eddie would never ... Then what? He forced her from the car? Pulled her to the edge. Petrified she had finally seen his plan. Struggled then, for her life, for her children but he was stronger. Had she begged? Screamed for help? Had fear eaten her words? Those last frantic moments, calling on her God, praying for Connie and Martina and Roland.
He shook, the smile faded and his eyes slipped back inside his head, revealing one white orb like a hard-boiled egg, one crimson pulp. Blood dripped on my jumper, I felt the trees stagger and suddenly my knees buckled. I landed on bracken, wet grass, branches. Above me a Scot’s pine was silhouetted spiky black stretched out against the smeared grey sky. They wouldn’t be long now, would they?
A little later something warm and wet wriggled across my face, making the cuts sting. Digger licking me. He grinned and sat. Stinky breath curling from his lolling tongue. No barking, no fetching help, nothing. I closed my eyes. You, I thought, must be the most bloody useless dog in the whole known universe.
I don’t often abuse alcohol for sustained periods of time but I spent that Christmas in a protective haze of Gin and Tonics, wine and whisky, depending on the time of day.
I wept a lot, which is very easy to do with all the schmaltz on the box. Ray was annoyed with me again which I thought was a bit rich. After all, I had done the self-defence course and I had used what I’d learnt to great effect. Ursula would be proud of me. It was hardly my fault that Eddie Cliff chose to attack me when the kids and Laura were around. If I was a vicious, manipulative, psychopath I’d have chosen a better moment, but honestly ...
Connie Johnstone had rung my mobile when I failed to appear at the office. There was no answer. She tried my home number and Ray, not knowing who she was of course, told her that I’d been in an accident and was in Wythenshawe Hospital.
As there was a beds crisis, flu sweeping the nation and affecting staff as well as patients, they didn’t even keep me in overnight. I didn’t need a bed anyway, I would only have used it to sleep in. My wounds were cleaned and stitched, needles stuck in me, painkillers prescribed. I was told to rest my voice.
The police wanted an initial statement which I supplied with the sort of numb indifference that comes after a trauma. Well, indifference alternating with hilarity which is a disturbing combination. They wrote it down and told me I’d be seen again.
Would I press charges?
Too bloody right, I would.
I told them I’d already seen a detective at Elizabeth Slinger. That I’d tried to report a man for suspected murder. The same man who had just tried to kill me. They nodded. I gave them the policeman’s name. They wrote that down. I told them about the abuse inquiry too, in Devon. They nodded, made another note. And went away.
I had to talk to Connie Johnstone. Once I got home I rang her and asked if she would come and see me.
“You sound awful,” she said. “Are you sure? Your husband said there’d been an accident.”
Wrong on both counts.
“I’m sure.” I had to get it over with. I had to tell her before the police called round or there was anything in the papers.
“Don’t bring Martina or Roland.”
“All right.” She sounded worried.
It felt strange, clients in my living room.
“Good God,” Patrick exclaimed. “What’s the other fella like?”
“Patrick!” Connie was shocked.
So was I; bit inappropriate cracking jokes before he knew what the “accident” had been.
“Sorry,” I realised he was tense. He knew something heavy was coming. His Adam’s apple bobbed and he apologised again.
“It’s all right,” I said. “He’s worse than me; dislocated hip, fractured knee, lacerated eye, plus he’s looking at a long stretch inside.”
“Blimey.”
“Please, sit down.”
They settled on our sofa, side by side. “Roland told us,” Connie said, “about meeting Horace.”
“He thought that was what had set Miriam off,” Patrick added. “Poor lad had been tearing himself apart with it. But apparently the meeting Roland had set up never happened. You spoke to Horace?”
“That’s right.”
“If only he’d said something. But I know why he didn’t.” Connie gave a rueful smile.
“I’m glad he’s told you himself. He was so worried. Has he said anything about keeping in touch with his father?”
“I think he will,” Connie said. “We don’t all feel the same about it, about the past. Roland wasn’t even born when he walked out on us. But he knows there won’t be any comeback. If that’s what he wants. He’s old enough to decide for himself.”
“He’s been a lot more relaxed,” Patrick added.
She nodded.
There was a pause. I looked at them. My stomach lurched. I took a breath. Felt the room sway a little. “I found out what happened to Miriam. I’m so sorry, Connie, it’s a terrible thing.” I held her gaze, my hands clamped tight on the chair arms. My heart skipping beats and trying to get away. “She didn’t jump, it wasn’t suicide. It was Eddie Cliff,” I said.
Connie stared at me, her eyes wary, her mouth tightening. “Eddie?”
“He did it, Eddie, he killed her.”
What? Her mouth formed the word but she made no sound. She turned to Patrick then back to me. Her eyes beginning to dart here and there, head shaking, denying it. Not admitting.
“He tried to shut me up,” I felt an eddy of fear at the thought. I spoke over it. “Eddie killed her. I’m so sorry.”
She raised her arms, fists balled, as though she would fight the truth. Patrick caught at her. She hit him, his chest, crying out, “No, no, oh, God, no.” He pulled her closer, ignoring the blows, holding her in her grief, his own face creased with emotion.
I stared at the lights on the tree, the stars of light blurring and streaking as my eyes filled up.
Some time later she spoke again. Turned her eyes full with pain to mine.
“Why?” She said thickly. “But why?”
I leant forward in my chair and began to explain.
Nana Tello had insisted on the Queen’s speech. This didn’t make much sense as she is a raving republican. However Nana’s passion for the gee-gees means she feels an affinity with Lizzie and knows exactly what animals she has in training, in stud and in the running on any given day. Lizzie is a fellow horse-fancier rather than a Queen. So Nana Tello was glued to the telly. She was probably hoping for a tip for the Boxing Day meet at Newmarket
Laura and Ray were loading the dishwasher. I never got my vegetarian feast. Ended up with all the trimmings and no turkey. It was fine. I was a little hurt that Ray hadn’t treated me to a cashew roast or chestnut and stilton roulade but he couldn’t do that without dropping the wall of disapproval he was lugging about. I’d not got him a CD anyway or anything else, nor Laura. Hadn’t had chance. He’d bought me a book on water gardens, a nice one with lots of design ideas. I was touched, I’d been planning a pond for years and not getting very far. He accepted my thanks gruffly with a nod rather than a smile.
I couldn’t quite get away with telling the kids I’d fallen down the hill especially when they’d been party to Laura’s 999 call and the ensuing drama. So it was a ‘bad man’ who had pushed me and the police had got him locked up. They seemed to accept it with only a few whys and wherefores.
They were playing on the computer. Frogger Two had gone down a treat, “Si-i-i-ck,” they’d chorused, “so si-i-ick.” They were happy negotiating the cartoon creatures through the violent threats posed by relentless lawnmowers and aggressive bumble bees.
I went outside, wandered round the garden. It was almost dark. Someone was letting fireworks off, a series of bangs and shrieks. I glimpsed a few fleeting star bursts.
Diane would be in the thick of it in her winter wonderland. I tried to imagine the northern lights flickering over a snow draped landscape. Bright and beautiful unlike this dull, damp, grey one.
A great tit swung on the seed feeder followed by its mate. Beneath the tree a sliver of green caught my eye. I moved closer. Two tiny sword-like leaves, the green striped with white. I bent, grimaced at my aching muscles, touched the tightly rolled bud with the tip of my finger, stroked the length of the leaves between thumb and forefinger.
The first snowdrop. So early. A promise of things to come. I slowly straightened up. Turned to face the house, windows aglow.
Maddie came out, she had her slippers on. I thought about it but decided to say nothing.
“Why didn’t it snow?” She sat on the swing and tilted herself back.
“Well, it doesn’t usually, not in Manchester. It’s not cold enough.”
“It always has snow in pictures.”
“Yes. Like it’s always sunny in the summer.”
She sat upright and narrowed her eyes. “But it is.”
“Do you think so?”
She frowned. “Yes.”
Can’t be bad, a child who remembers all her summers like that.
“Are you going to make any New Year’s Revolutions?”
I laughed. “Resolutions.”
“What are they?”
“Things you want to do, things you want to change.”
“What like?”
“Well, some people stop smoking or start going to the gym.”
“What can I do?”
“You don’t have to do anything.”
“If I wanted to, though?”
“Okay. What would you like to do next year that you haven’t done this year?”
“Get a kitten?”
I raised my eyebrows, kittens aren’t an option.
“I don’t know really,” she said. “Are you doing any?”
I considered the question.
“Oh!” She flew off the swing and darted into the house and returned a couple of minutes later with an envelope. “I did this.” She thrust it at me. It said
Mummy
on the front in a big red heart.
Inside was a green card with a cotton wool snowman and a red robin stuck on the front. Inside Maddie had drawn a picture of our house with a face at each window, all smiling. “There’s you and Tom, “ I said. “That’s Ray with the ‘tache and beard. Is that Laura?”
“Yes, and Digger,” she pointed.
“And that’s me.”
“Your nose is a bit big but it went wrong there.”
She had written
Happy Christmas and New Year
. The rest of the card was covered with kisses and I love yous.
“That is lovely, come here.”
She screwed up her nose anticipating a kiss. I gave her one and a hug. “And I love you, you know.”
She nodded and returned to the swing.
“Would you, then? Make a resolution?” She swung up her toes pointing skyward, hair falling towards the ground behind her.
“I don’t think so. I like things pretty much as they are. Maybe my resolution will be to remember that more often.”
She gave a grunt which signalled I was talking rubbish again and swung higher. I watched her for a while, drinking in the sight. When she slowed and stopped I walked over to her. “Come on then,” I said. “My turn. Give us a push.”
I watched the tree rock above me and the warm lighted windows of the house dip in and out of view, and felt Maddie’s small hands press on my back and her giggles ring round the garden. And I swung higher and higher.