Run, Mummy, Run (15 page)

‘A favourite of mine,’ the monk said, following her gaze. ‘Samyutta Nikaya, 1,10. Carry it in your heart, child. We shall be waiting for you.’

R
adiant
. The word echoed in her mind as she ran down the path and to the bus stop. ‘You look radiant tonight,’ she thought Mark used to say in the early days when he’d told her how beautiful she was and that he’d love her forever.
Radiant.
It was a term she thought he’d used, but now she struggled to remember.

The bus came exactly on time and, handing over the last of her change, she took a window seat. She looked out of the window as her fingers curled around the five-pound note in her pocket and tried to steady her breathing. Her heart pounded and she felt hot and cold at once; she tried not to think about what she was doing but to concentrate on the journey and getting to the school.

An hour later she counted down the stops; the bus slowed and she stood. Making her way to the exit she waited on the platform until the doors swished open. She stepped off and began, head down, towards the school. It was drizzling now, the light but saturating rain of late November. She didn’t have an umbrella, it had broken long ago and she’d never had the money to replace it. The wet quickly seeped through her headscarf, making her shiver with cold. She’d had nothing to eat all day and now wished she’d accepted the monk’s offer of a hot drink. It would have helped a little.

She checked her watch again. It was nearly five to three, she was early because the bus had arrived on time. Her calculations had allowed for it being late – she knew how erratic the services could be. Turning the corner to the school she looked anxiously in all directions, half-expecting to see Mark, which was ridiculous because he never left work early, even on a Friday, and never collected the children from school. She was safe at least until six. There would be plenty of time.

There was only one mother already waiting on the pavement outside the school gates, but Aisha took up her usual place, well away from where the other mothers would eventually congregate. With her hands in her pockets, eyes lowered, she prayed the classes would come out on time at three fifteen. Sometimes they were five, even ten minutes late, if they had been noisy, or the classroom had to be cleaned up after art class.

It would have made sense to have gone in and asked if she could take Sarah and James early, on the pretence of a dental appointment or similar. But she’d never been into the school, not even for parents’ evening; Mark had always insisted he went alone. Now if she went in on some pretext, they might suspect something, see her guilt and know, and she couldn’t risk it, not with so much at stake. For guilt was what she felt, and was doubtless written all over her face – she was snatching the children while Mark was at work. It might even be illegal, she thought, though this was the least of her worries.

By three ten the entrance was a throng of chattering mothers, clustered under shared umbrellas, trying to keep bored toddlers in strollers under plastic rain covers. Aisha concentrated on the paving stone beneath her feet which was as familiar as her worn-out shoes. The stone glistened a deep grey from the rain, and she knew every inch of it, from the chipped corner on the left to the crack on the right, which sprouted a dandelion in summer. She shifted her feet and stared down at the concrete slab possibly for the last time. Where the children would go to school she’d no idea but she’d worry about that another day, for now she just needed to concentrate on getting away. At exactly three fifteen the bell rang from inside the school and her heart raced; the security gates buzzed and then opened automatically.

Aisha went into the playground, but instead of standing in her usual place, behind the other mothers and up against the railings, she walked further forwards, to the right, where she would be able to see the children as soon as they came out. She pulled her headscarf closer to her cheeks and watched as the main doors opened and the children began to pour out. A member of staff – she didn’t know her name – stood on the steps, doing up coats and generally keeping an eye on the children as they left. Sarah and James were never in the first wave of loud, excited children, scrabbling to be out of school and home. They came more slowly, towards the end. Always together, and with Sarah’s arm protectively around the shoulders of her younger brother. Aisha thought now, as she had before, that if anything positive had come out of the years of abuse and misery, it was the bond that had formed between brother and sister. She doubted it could be stronger, nor that it would ever change.

She spotted Sarah and James immediately, and stepping forwards, gave a little wave. A flicker of surprise crossed their faces when they saw she wasn’t in her usual place. She watched them carefully as though seeing them for the first time as they picked their way around the other children. Sarah, with her jet-black hair and dark eyes, was still the image of her, while James had inherited some of his father’s features; his hair and skin tone were lighter than Sarah’s and he had hazel eyes. The two of them always appeared deep in thought and were far more self-composed than their more impulsive peers.
A very sensible child
, the teacher had written on one of Sarah’s reports,
Sarah shows a maturity well beyond her years.
It had made Aisha cry when she’d read the report, for Sarah’s maturity was at the expense of her childhood, which had been lost in the daily grind of surviving and having to support her mother.

Aisha bent to kiss her children as they came up to her, but instead of asking as she usually did, ‘Have you had a good day?’ and, ‘Did you eat your lunch?’ she said almost sternly, ‘Put up your hoods. It’s raining. Come on. Be quick.’ Then, taking a hand in each of hers, she set off, faster than usual, towards the school gates. Only once they were outside the school grounds did she speak again, keeping up the pace and talking as she went. ‘Now listen, both of you. I have something to tell you and it’s very important. You are big children now and I need you to listen carefully. A lot depends on it.’

They looked up at her intrigued. There was an edge to their mother’s voice which they hadn’t heard before and which was both exciting and a little frightening.

‘I haven’t been home today,’ she continued. ‘After I left you this morning, I went on the bus, an hour away. I have been talking to a very kind man called a monk. Do you know what a monk is?’

They both nodded. She doubted James understood, he was too young, but she hadn’t time to explain it all now.

‘He is very kind,’ she stressed. ‘And he lives in a big house in the country with other monks, it’s called a retreat. I went there because I have been so unhappy, we all have, and I needed to talk to someone and ask his advice. I have been telling him how things are at home and he wants to help us. He says we can go and stay there until I can think what to do for the best. I said we would.’

She paused and looked at them, trying to gauge their reaction, fearful they might object. It was, after all, their home and father she was leaving, and if they refused to go did she have the right to force them?

‘Without Daddy?’ James asked.

‘Yes. It would just be the three of us.’ She looked at his rain-spotted face, just visible under his hood and waited for his response, but none came. He just looked thoughtful.

‘When?’ Sarah asked.

‘As soon as I’ve put a few things in a case. If we’re going we must do it now. Otherwise …’ She stopped. ‘I wouldn’t be doing this if I didn’t think it was right. You know how unhappy we are. I really can’t take any more.’ Her voice broke.

Sarah squeezed her hand reassuringly. ‘I’ll help you pack,’ she said quietly.

‘Thank you, darling.’ She looked again at James. ‘And what about you, James? What do you think?’

‘Can I take my teddy?’

‘Yes. You find it as soon as we get in.’

‘Dad’s going to be so angry when he finds out,’ James added. ‘He’ll hurt you again.’ Aisha’s heart screamed, not for the first time, at what James had witnessed, and the gaping chasm in the relationship between father and son, and what should have been.

‘No, darling, he won’t,’ she said. ‘Once we’re at the monks’ house we’ll be safe. They will look after us. And perhaps, in time, Daddy and I will be able to …’ but she let the sentence go unfinished. She knew to acknowledge any possibility of a reconciliation would undermine her present strength and resolve, and she needed it all, every bit, if she was going to see this through.

Aisha continued in silence, maintaining the pace with the children nearly running to keep up. Her feet squelched in her leaking shoes as they moved quickly across the sodden pavements. She had to keep reining in her thoughts to the present and immediate, and banish all thoughts of the future. The five-pound note was safely at the bottom of her pocket, her suitcase was on top of the wardrobe, the 103 bus which they would have to catch in the High Street ran every seventeen minutes. It would have helped to have had time to plan their escape, to have made a list of essential items, and pack. But then again, it was the very lack of premeditation that was allowing her to do it at all. Too much time and she would have lost her nerve, with no possibility of retrieving it or a second chance. ‘You could never survive in the outside world,’ she heard Mark say. ‘You’re useless without me.’

The rain was harder now, bouncing off the pavements and rushing along the gutters and down the drains. They were already soaked. The children would have to change when they got home if they weren’t to catch cold – there would be enough time. She had a full hour to pack the basics, change, get on the bus and away from the area before Mark even left work. The next bit would be the worst – going into the house for the last time and taking what they needed. She would feel like a thief, taking things when Mark wasn’t there, but they had to have the essentials, the rest didn’t matter. She wondered if she should leave a note but the very thought of it, of writing
Dear Mark …
made her falter. No, she would write to him later, she told herself, she could think about a letter when they were safe, and when she knew what to say.

She felt Sarah and James’s hands in hers and gave them a reassuring squeeze. ‘Nearly there,’ she said. ‘When we get in I want you to change out of your wet things while I pack. Put on your weekend clothes and leave your uniforms in the airing cupboard.

Sarah, will you make us a drink? And James, I want you to find your teddy. We’ve all got a job to do but we must be quick.’

The children kept close beside her like chicks around a mother hen as they approached the corner and the turning to their road. The daylight was quickly fading and the drab, wet skies of a dismal winter afternoon were closing in. Still holding hands, they rounded the corner as one. Then stopped dead. They stared in disbelief and horror. Halfway down the street, parked at the kerb outside their house, was Mark’s car.

‘He’s home!’ Sarah cried. ‘He must know!’

Aisha stared, unable to believe what she was seeing. ‘He can’t know,’ she gasped. ‘I didn’t know myself until this afternoon. It’s impossible.’ Yet something told her that it wasn’t, and he did.

‘What are we going to do?’ Sarah asked, letting go of her hand to go round and comfort her brother.

‘I don’t know,’ Aisha began. ‘I …’ But the words fell away.

But how? When? Why? He hadn’t followed her that morning on the bus, she would have noticed, she was sure. Yet he never came home this early, never. He often got back after nine on a Friday, and some nights he didn’t come home at all. Perhaps he was ill? Perhaps he’d left work early because he was unwell? But if he was, why was the car out of the garage? He hadn’t taken it to work that morning, he’d used the tube as he did most days. The car had been in the garage that morning when she’d left, she was sure. But why wasn’t it now?

‘Aren’t we going to the monks’ house?’ James asked between sobs.

Aisha fought to regain control. ‘No. Now, listen. You have to forget everything I’ve told you. Everything. Do you understand? We will go in as normal. I’ve just collected you from school. James, you can read your book to Sarah while I make us a drink. Act perfectly normal. Forget everything. I know it’s difficult, but you must.’

Sarah nodded as James sniffed. Aisha took a tissue from her pocket and wiped his face, then waited while he blew his nose.

‘Good boy. Now, no more crying. Don’t cry and we’ll be all right.’ But her heart and mind cried out and told her otherwise, for not only were they not going to escape, but Mark would be furious if he knew she’d been out of the house for longer than the twenty minutes it took to collect the children from school.

James pushed the tissue into his pocket and tried to smile, but found it impossible. Sarah took his hand.

‘OK, now come on.’ Aisha said, and went in front while the children followed a little behind. They continued up the street, the house drawing closer with each step.

Perhaps Mark had only been in for a short while, she thought, which was why his car was outside. Perhaps he’d just got in, for whatever reason, and had taken the car out of the garage ready to use later. Aisha couldn’t remember him doing that before, but it wasn’t impossible. In which case, her absence was accountable. She’d been to the school to collect the children and now she was coming home. But if he had been in for longer and was aware of her absence, she needed an excuse. But what? What excuse could she possibly give for being gone for longer than the school run? She had no shopping with her and anyway Mark knew she didn’t have money to buy anything. Likewise, he knew she didn’t have friends to visit, and no family to speak of. A doctor’s appointment? But the surgery wasn’t open in the afternoon, only mornings and evenings, and that could easily be checked. A walk? It was the only possibility. Yes, she would have to say she had gone for a breath of fresh air. He would be angry, but hopefully no more than any other time when he’d phoned to check on her and she’d been asleep and hadn’t answered immediately.

The children drew further back as they approached the house. The lights were going on in the neighbouring houses as the last of the daylight disappeared. Aisha saw their hall and lounge lights were on too, but had no idea what that meant, other than that Mark was in. The up-and-over door to the garage was down as normal. She stopped at the front gate and pressed the latch, pushed the gate open and waited for the children to catch up. They went up the short path, Sarah and James together, slightly behind her and still hand in hand. At the front door Aisha stopped and bent down to whisper to the children.