Tell Tale (14 page)

It was three days before Nina left. She phoned work claiming to be sick, and apart from that call, little else was said during their time together. The windows wept condensation and the sheets twisted around their bodies. Surfaces were cleared of paints and dirty crockery by thrashing limbs; bodies desperate for a new place, a new way. They ate from cans and drank gin, water, tea and wine. They slept and they lay in each other’s arms. When she finally left, Nina wasn’t sure if she would see Mick again. He had delivered a lifetime’s worth of need.

‘Goodbye,’ Mick said solemnly. He stood in the trailer doorway with a towel slung around his hips. The lust in his eyes told her it wasn’t goodbye at all.

‘Bye,’ Nina said, head bowed, without looking back. Her hair hung loose in spent strands. Words seemed futile compared to what they had discovered about each other. It was as if they’d known each other forever, as if they’d been lovers in another time, and yet each time they’d come together it had been a novelty, stuffed with naivety, brimming with experience.

Nina slung her bag over her shoulder, scuffing through the dust all the way back to the bus stop. Once out of sight, the smile didn’t leave her face. Happiness ran through her veins like warm honey. For the first time in her life,
Nina felt as if she wasn’t running away, rather running towards.

The approaching siren kicked up her pulse. Nina felt both sick and relieved. She swore she’d heard someone try the back door. What if Mick returned just as she was explaining to the police? What if they came back later to take statements? What if they arrested someone on the doorstep – someone she
knew –
and Mick saw everything? All this went through Nina’s mind as she squatted uncomfortably behind the door, waiting until it was safe to come out.

The siren drew close then stopped abruptly. Then banging, the repeated ringing of the doorbell. This wasn’t an intruder, this was the police.

‘Mum, who is it? What on earth’s going on?’ Josie scurried downstairs as Nina slid back the bolts on the door. Glancing through the small pane of rippled glass, she drew back the safety chain. ‘Are you OK, Mum?’ She saw her mother’s pallor, the way her lips sat anonymously on a whitened face.

‘I’ll handle it, Josie. Just go back to your room.’ Nina’s words were shallow yet commanding. Something in them told her daughter not to talk back. Nina pulled open the door and breathed out a hurricane, not even realising she’d been holding it in.

‘Mrs Kennedy,’ the officer said. Nina nodded. ‘You made an emergency call. Is anyone in your property in immediate danger?’ He was formal, programmed, and instantly made Nina feel both safe and under threat.

‘I don’t think so,’ she whispered. ‘I’m not sure. Please, come in.’ Nina bowed her head. The adrenalin that had set her mind and body alight waned as the two officers, one male and one female, stepped into her hallway. She suddenly felt like a time-waster.

‘I’m Sergeant Naylor and this is WPC Shelley. I understand there was an intruder.’ The pair eased past Nina and went straight into the living room uninvited, looking around.

Nina bolted the front door again, but not before glancing each way up and down the street. There was no sign of anyone. Just a woman pushing a pram, a dog trotting beside her.

‘I think someone was trying to break in.’ She joined the officers. ‘I’m worried that someone is trying to . . .’ However she said it, she would sound crazy. ‘That someone’s been bothering me. Perhaps wants to hurt me.’ Nina sat down. She felt faint.

The female police officer sat beside her. ‘Sergeant Naylor will take a look around and check out the property.’ She glanced at her partner and he nodded. He was clearly trying to combat a weary expression. He turned away and called back to the station on his radio. Nina heard him say possible false alarm.

‘No, no, you don’t understand.’ She stood but sat straight back down again when the room spun. ‘There’s a situation that . . .’ Nina sighed and collected her words. ‘It’s a long story.’ She couldn’t possibly say any more.

‘How about a cup of tea?’ Shelley smiled and waited for
a reply. Nina’s face was blank, pale, one step removed from reality. She shook her head, incredulous. She didn’t want tea. ‘If you’re anxious, sweet tea could really help—’

‘I am not anxious.’ Nina did her best to stay calm. ‘Please, just look round the house and check everything.’ She cupped her face in her hands, but quickly dived out of self-pity. ‘There was someone in the house this morning. They stole my daughter’s clothes.’

Finally the officers exchanged looks which suggested they believed her. ‘Where is your daughter now?’

‘Right here,’ Josie said. ‘I don’t see how anyone could have taken my stuff, Mum.’ Josie’s calmness made Nina seem almost hysterical. ‘I was here all the time. Perhaps you just put them in the wash and forgot.’

‘Did you actually see or hear anyone in the house?’ Shelley asked.

Josie was shaking her head vigorously. ‘Nope. Just my dad, but he was down in his studio.’

‘Was anything else missing?’ The sergeant replaced his radio.

Josie shrugged and looked at her mother. ‘No.’

Nina closed her eyes, then blurted out, ‘Someone ran into my car the other day. I think it was on purpose.’ She hesitated. ‘I wasn’t going to report it, but now this has happened.’ She dropped her head into her hands. She hadn’t wanted Josie to know.

‘Could any of your friends have played a prank with your clothes, love?’ Shelley asked Josie.

Josie shrugged. She stared at her mother. ‘Maybe. I
dunno. Mum, why are you lying about the car? Dad said that you reversed into a lamp post when you were parking.’

The officers exchanged glances. ‘Is there damage to the vehicle, Mrs Kennedy?’ Sergeant Naylor peered out of the rear window, across the garden to the studio. He rattled the French door handle but it didn’t give.

‘Yes, a dent and some paint left behind. Do you want to see?’ She led the officers out on to the drive, having to steady herself on the door frame.

‘Mum, are you all right?’ Josie was concerned. ‘What’s going on?’

WPC Shelley took hold of Nina. ‘Take it steady, Mrs Kennedy. You look rather pale.’

‘There,’ she said, pointing to the rear quarter panel of her car. ‘I was pulling out of my friend’s drive and there was a parked car further up the street and it just drove at me.’

‘Did you get a number plate? A description of the car?’

‘Yes. It was dark green. Metallic paint. You can tell by what’s left on my car.’ The sergeant was running his finger along the dent, looking underwhelmed. ‘There was a five and maybe a seven and an M in the number plate. It might have been one of those big Rovers or a Jag.’

‘Hardly a write-off, is it, Mrs Kennedy?’ the sergeant said. ‘Have you contacted your insurance company? Why didn’t you call the police when it happened?’

Nina shrugged. ‘I guess I didn’t . . .’ She bit her lip. ‘I didn’t want to . . .’

‘Why don’t you come back inside the house, love?’ Shelley was kind, calm, considerate. She’d dealt with
women like this before. In fact, it was light relief being called out to a non-threatening incident. The morning had been arduous so far, and she hoped they might even have time for a quick break before heading back to the station.

Nina was close to tears. ‘Look, someone was trying to get into my house this morning.’ She swallowed. ‘And someone took my daughter’s clothes.’ She found herself being guided back inside.

‘Now listen, I insist you have that cup of tea.’ The constable somehow coaxed Nina back to the living room and persuaded Josie to make her mum a drink. She spent a few minutes writing details. Finally, she said, ‘Do you have any idea who it is that might be bothering you?’

‘Perhaps.’ Nina didn’t hesitate as she’d thought she would.

WPC Shelley sighed with relief. At last they were getting somewhere. She wrote some more notes and then waited for Nina to give a name.

‘But I can’t tell you,’ she finished. Josie stopped in her tracks as she carried a mug of tea to her mother.

‘Mum, if you know who it is, you have to tell the police.’ Josie veered away from her mother and dumped the tea on the table. ‘What the hell’s got into you? You’re acting so weird.’

Shelley glanced between mother and daughter. She didn’t know what to make of it all, but guessed the whole thing was possibly fuelled by an uncomfortable domestic situation. A divorce or separation, perhaps from a violent partner. Maybe there was a new man on the scene. It could
be that the mother’s ex was the guilty party, or there was tension between a new man and the daughter. The policewoman had seen it all before. Nothing surprised her these days. ‘That’s not very helpful, Mrs Kennedy. If you say you know who’s bothering you but you won’t reveal a name, there’s little we can do.’ She watched Nina’s reaction closely.

‘You don’t understand, you
can’t
understand. But please, trust me. I need your help. Can’t you take fingerprints from the front door?’

‘Mrs Kennedy, no crime appears to have been committed. There’s no evidence of a break-in, and quite honestly the damage to your car looks consistent with you backing into something. Arranging for a forensic team to visit your house to take fingerprints is hardly an appropriate use of police resources.’ Sergeant Naylor put his notebook away.

Nina pressed her teeth together. ‘Josie, give me a moment alone with the officers, will you?’

‘Mrs Kennedy—’

‘Please.’ Nina knew she sounded pathetic. She steadied herself on the back of the sofa. ‘You have to take me seriously.’

‘If you would just tell us why anyone would want to break into your house or threaten you, then I can establish if there’s a need for further action. As things stand, there is nothing we can do.’ Sergeant Naylor folded his arms and shifted the balance of his weight on to one leg. He was a hefty man, the sort, Nina thought, who would show
sympathy to a wife-beating husband because he thought the woman was being awkward.

‘I can’t.’ Nina hung her head. She remembered his words.
Trust nobody.
‘I’m sorry.’ It was final.

‘In that case, Mrs Kennedy, seeing as your property and everyone in it is safe and secure and . . .’ Naylor glanced around to justify his statement. ‘And not apparently in any danger, we’ll be going.’

Nina felt a sense of panic inside. They were leaving. She and Josie would be alone. In desperation, she fished some paper and a pen from the detritus on the floor, and wrote down her number. She handed it to WPC Shelley rather than the sergeant. ‘If you change your mind about helping me,’ she whispered, ‘then please call.’ Nina’s hands dropped to her sides. ‘Please?’ She eyed the female officer in the hope of establishing a sympathetic bond. The officer nodded slowly – a brief flash of female understanding? – before she followed her sergeant.

‘Any trouble, you know where we are.’ They were standing in the porch. The sergeant slid back the door bolts. ‘But make sure there’s actually some trouble first, eh?’ He laughed and walked out, Shelley following. The constable glanced back at Nina once more before pushing the paper into her pocket.

Nina bolted the door. The house was silent. She leaned against the wall, head pressed back, palms flat against the cold plaster. She had never felt so alone.

One particular Sunday, I sat on the stone window seat and waited for my father’s car to break the drab winter landscape. I almost turned to stone myself, the way the cold seeped from the ancient building into my bones. Everyone else – nameless carers and kids I didn’t really know – ran around doing their morning things, while I just sat there, transfixed on the ribbon of drive that disappeared into the woods surrounding us. To pass the time, I trailed my finger down the glass, following the snaking beads of water that collected from the drizzle.

‘Not got nothing to do?’ asked a woman who made my neck prickle. She seemed to fold herself out of the furniture or the walls, appearing everywhere at once. The other kids said she was the eyes for all the others; that she was watching and waiting for us to do something wrong. Some said it was her who came in the night. Her tight black hair scared me. It made her face look white and dead.

I blinked up at her, suddenly believing all the stories I’d heard. ‘I’m waiting for my dad,’ I told her. Her laugh hung in the air long after she disappeared.

He came eventually. I knew he would. My entire body lit
up, just like the flames racing through the newspaper and kindling when we lit the fire. At ten past three, after I’d been waiting for nearly five hours, his car cruised down the drive and parked outside the front door. He got out with a big grin on his face, most likely in a good mood from the drive. My dad doted on his car – a nineteen seventy-three Ford Granada, he told everyone, solid as a tank – and he always took one glance back at it after he’d parked. I reckoned he was imagining that he’d pulled up at a fancy hotel or a stately home where a lord and lady lived. That was my dad. Always pretending he was someone else; always believing he was better than who he really was. I ran to the big door to greet him.

‘Hello, doll,’ he growled as I launched myself at his waist. He ruffled my hair, perhaps wishing I was a boy so that he could take me to see the football on a Saturday, or have me help him polish the Granada. He once told me that I reminded him of my mum and then he got angry at me because she’d died. ‘You have her pale skin and almond eyes,’ he told me.Then he didn’t speak to me for a week. He drank until he passed out, and when the lady next door found me playing alone in the street, I was taken away to be looked after by someone else. All I remember are the cakes. A nice lady fed me sponge cakes until I felt sick. She said it would help, until my dad got better.

‘I’ve been waiting for ages. Where have you been?’ I didn’t want him to see I was sad, but I couldn’t help it.

My dad glanced at his watch. ‘Only an hour or so late.’

‘Three
weeks
late,’ I reminded him. But there was no
getting through to Dad. He did his own thing in his own time.

‘So, where do you want to go, princess?’ He smelled funny. Of someone else.