Human Frailty, a Detective Mike Bridger novel (28 page)

Mrs. Watson shivered with the memory

"He liked a drink, and it was what he did
best. He always had money for the drink. We were really just
getting to know each other when the baby arrived. He was not
violent at first. It was more what he said to me that hurt. He
thought I had got pregnant on purpose just to trap him. He was
happy enough to be screwing me in the back of his car, but he still
said that I took the decision about the course of his life from
him. After the baby arrived, he spent more and more time at the
pub, I hardly ever saw him. I found myself trapped in the house; I
was too scared to take the baby out into the cold. My parents were
no use; my father had practically disowned me. He forbade my mother
to visit me. I had few friends, and even less when the baby
arrived. I felt very isolated and alone. I was only just coping
with things. It was as if he owned me. I was his possession to do
with what he wanted. I was an absolute mess".

Jo looked at Mrs. Watson, trying to
compare the person sitting in front of her to the person she was
describing. She looked so normal, it is funny the secrets people
hide on the inside. I guess you could never know what went on in
anybody
’
s
head, she thought.

You could live with someone day in and day
out, but unless you had the ability to read minds, you would never
really know a person.

Gillian Holler was in a foul mood, apart
from the fact that her face looked like a blueberry muffin with the
black eye; she had been in court all morning giving evidence in a
drink driving case. The defendant, a middle-aged bank executive had
employed a very expensive lawyer to argue that Gillian had not
provided him with the proper disclosure. The argument was
irrelevant in her eyes, as the lack of disclosure related to forms
that had nothing to do with the fact that she had stopped the
defendant driving his expensive car at twice the legal speed limit
and almost twice the legal drink drive limit. The fact that he was
the most obnoxious person she had ever met on the night in question
was not a factor either. The thing she hated most out of the whole
thing was, after the judge had ruled not guilty on technical
grounds, the defendant had smiled and winked at her while she sat
in court, open mouthed at the stupidity of a system that allowed
such decisions.

She had returned to the police station in
search of a soothing cup of tea and quiet corner to lick her
wounds. She had only just put the water in the kettle when Steve
came into the meal room and told her that they had an urgent job to
attend.

Steve was driving at a crazy speed; he had
already had a few near misses as he barreled through intersections
against the red signals. He always seemed to think that the lights
and sirens would stop any other motorist in their tracks; leaving
the way clear for their speeding patrol car to speed towards
whatever emergency required their presence. Gillian flinched as she
heard the screeching of brakes to her left. Another car travelling
through a green light had little time to react as they flashed
through another intersection.

"Bloody hell that was close", Steve said.
"Useless bloody drivers, can't they see we're in a hurry here".

Gillian's knuckles were white against the
handles on the passenger door, her left foot making useless
attempts to apply an imaginary brake.

"Bloody well slow down will you Steve; it
sounds like the girl has stopped throwing rocks. We actually want
to get there don't we"?

If Steve took any insult from her comments,
he did not show it.

"Sorry Gill, it
’
s a priority one job,
that
’
s why
we have lights and sirens isn't it".

Gill was about to argue the point, but
realised they had arrived at the scene when Steve suddenly stood
hard on the brakes and pulled over to the curb.

"Darling we're home", he said, smiling to
himself at his attempt at humor.

Thank god for that, Gillian thought.

Getting out of the car into the cold, she
tried pulling her jacket tight around her neck. The stab proof vest
she was wearing making the task all but impossible. The temperature
in this part of town always seemed to be a few degrees colder than
other areas.

Steve was on the other side of the car
rubbing his hands together but still wearing short sleeves under
his vest, the tails of a tattoo peeking from underneath, mottled
with Goosebumps.

"Right where's she at then", he said,
looking about.

Gillian looked towards the house and
saw the damage to the windows, large shards of glass were scattered
on the concrete path below. The sound of breaking glass at the rear
of the property answered Steve
’
s question. She could hear a hysterical
female voice screaming, "Daniel, I know you
’
re in there, you and that
bitch. I am going to break every part of this house until you come
out and see me. Let me in you prick. I love you Daniel, do you hear
me. I love you".

"Steve you go that way and I'll go this
way", she said, pointing to the side of the house.

Gillian made her way cautiously down the
side of the house. A window shattered above her, showering her in
glass. Brushing the glass from her hair, she felt a sharp pain in
her hand. Bringing her hand down and opening her palm, she saw the
warm blood oozing out of a cut about an inch long. Looking up she
saw a familiar face advancing towards her. The face was gaunt and
tear streaked the person behind it agitated and lost. Her eyes were
almost vacant.

"Beth, what the hell is going on", Gillian
demanded.

Beth stopped still and stared at her
strangely. Gillian realised she was staring at the blood dripping
from her hand. She opened her palm towards her. Beth recoiled
slightly at the sight. She raised her arm towards Gillian and
pointed a weak finger at her injury.

"Did he do that to you?” she asked.

"No Beth, I cut myself on some glass.
Did you break that window?
”

"I have to get in there, I need to see
him. He did not answer the door; I know he has her in there with
him. I cannot let her have him. Can you ask him to come out? You
can make him, you
’
re the police".

Steve had come up behind Beth and looked at
Gillian, he pointed to the blood on her hand and pointed at Beth,
mouthing the words, did she do it. Beth had sensed the movement
behind her and backed up against the wall. "Get away from me, I
haven't done anything. He has, he is the one. Just leave me alone".
She slid down the wall and sat hunched over hugging her legs. "He's
the one, he's the one", she started to repeat quietly to
herself.

"Isn't that Beth?
”
Steve asked
Gillian.

"Déjà vu", Gillian said as she crouched down
beside her.

"Beth", she said quietly,
"What
’
s
happening. Did you break the windows? Whose house is
this?
”

Beth did not answer, just carried on
repeating, "He's the one".

"Well Beth, I'm arresting you for criminal
damage to these windows", Gillian said, as she took Beth under the
arms and stood her up.

"She's having another episode", Steve said,
waving his hands in front of her vacant eyes and clicking his
fingers.

"Steve, that's not helping. See if anyone is
inside, it might be able to help us with why Beth has broken all
these windows if we know who it is. If there is no one home, talk
to a neighbor and find out who lives here. I'll take Beth to the
car and see if she will calm down a bit".

"Rather you than me", he said.

This girl has some real issues, Gillian was
thinking. Beth was sitting next to her in the back of the car just
staring straight ahead. Eyes dead still, her breath was short and
rapid. Gillian had no luck in getting Beth to say anything. She had
just succeeded in frustrating herself in the process, her earlier
bad mood not helping much. Gillian jumped as Steve opened the door
and slumped into the seat.

"No one
’
s home, I talked to the neighbor
across the road and she was not much help. All she could tell me
was that he was a middle-aged man, lived alone and possibly worked
at the university. I think she is the one who called us but she did
not let on. I could not get inside the house but I could see into
most of the broken windows. It was strange; there were no pictures
on the walls. I could not see any personal effects either. Who
lives like that?"

"Well Beth seems to know who it is", Gillian
said. "Trouble is she's not talking again. I think we should
contact the mental health crisis team to come and asses her. Maybe
they can get her to talk".

"Sounds like a plan", Steve said, starting
the car.

"
Why did you
have me mother? I know I was an accident, but why did you bother to
continue with the pregnancy? I was such a hindrance to you. You
could never show your emotion towards me could you. You were such a
cold unfeeling person. I grew up in a world of confusion and pain.
I did not understand at first, why other children at school spoke
of happy times at home or what they got up to with their families
over a weekend. I could not understand why we did none of those
things.

I could not deal with it, I thought there
was something wrong with me mother. I was a broken favorite toy,
something of no use but you could not quite see a reason to throw
it away.

Well you did throw it away
mother, you threw away what could have been. Choices mother,
it
is
all about choices. Only we decide our path in
life, you were blind to your path. You chose to follow someone
else's. His path was his alone and he resented you being on it
mother, that is why he did what he did.

If you walk on someone else's path, you have
to follow their rules. It is their decisions you have to take as
your own. He had the right mother and you knew that, that is why
you never left him. You would have been lost on his path with no
way back to your own, a life in limbo.

There is always life's
leeches
’
mother, those who cannot
function on their own and attach themselves to others, sucking the
life out of them slowly.

Father was the one who taught me how to deal
with those people, mother. He showed me how and why. You were his
muse to those lessons mother. He was an effective teacher if he was
anything.

Well you know better than I...do

I do not need to tell you about that do I
mother.

However, I have grown up
now. I see things differently. The remnants of those lessons have
plagued my life. I once read you can hard wire something into
someone's brain by repetitive actions. It is like addiction; the
brain thinks it
is
normal and tells the rest of
the body to react if it sees any deviance from its
craving.

Two people who had no idea of that concept
hard wired my brain. You were too busy dealing with your own
addictions to worry about what my future cravings would be.

It might surprise you to know that I have
changed. I have almost made it. I just need to put this one thing
behind me and then I shall be at peace with myself.

It's the only thing left
to conquer
".

Mrs. Watson was still crying but had calmed
down enough to keep talking. Jo had refreshed her cup of tea she
was cradling it between two hands looking into the cup, almost as
if searching for a message of hope in the tealeaves. Jo had turned
the sound off on the monitor, the live images of a wretched young
puppet bride that was Marion flickering quietly now in the
background. Mrs. Watson had turned away from the screen; the sight
was now only visible to Jo. Maybe its better she does not keep
watching, Jo thought. If anything changes for the worse, she would
be able to divert her attention before causing her too much
alarm.

"You know Constable; I have some deep
regrets about my earlier life and what I put my baby through
because of that. What he must have seen in the years with me, what
he must have thought of me. I will not give you any of that rubbish
about how afraid I was of my husband, or what he would do to me if
I left, that would be untrue. I was not afraid. It was only pain. I
could handle the pain if it meant that my child would have roof
over his head, food on the table. His job was what scared me the
most; it made asking for help almost impossible. Looking back at
the hypocrisy of it all, I cannot believe I put up with it.

I was weak you see. I did not think I
would be able survive on my own. I certainly would not be able to
do it with a child. My father had disowned me, he was a proud man
and it was his way. I was his princess once, but I was sullied by a
boy in his eyes and those of the friends and
neighbors’
’
he looked up to. With no support it was all I could
do".

Jo was a few sentences behind Mrs. Watson in
her note taking. She looked at her messy scrawl and re read the
last few points. She almost missed it and at first, she thought she
had made a mistake. She had recorded 'He' as the sex of the baby
Mrs. Watson was talking about.

"Excuse me Mrs. Watson, did you say the baby
was your son and not Marion".

"Yes Constable, she said. His name was
Daniel, but he died a long time ago".