The Drowners (5 page)

Pauline tilted her head to one side and gave her one of the looks that froze the office staff in their tracks. ‘So who have you got looking after her today?’

Sue smiled at her, ‘I thought she needed a bit of a lesson after last Friday,’ she said. ‘Alison said she’d be happy to do it.’

Phil Watson, landlord of the Royal Arms tiptoed around the kitchen at the back of his pub putting on coffee for the reduced staff due in for the lunch shift. Not that there was much of a lunch shift at the moment he thought gloomily.
No-one
had much money even if they were lucky enough to have a job. Prices kept rising and rising, his costs were going through the roof and wages were going down as ordinary folk found themselves pushed into part-time and short-term work by the Jobcentres, which were desperate to keep the official unemployment figures down. Phil hated laying off his workers, many of whom had been with him since he took over ten years ago, but with the average wage of a farm
worker stuck at less than a hundred quid a week and the threat to the Wages Board still hanging over them, most were foregoing their lunchtime ‘pint and plate’ in favour of something in bread from home. Maybe he should buy shares in plastic lunch boxes, he reflected gloomily. A door slammed overhead and the sound of footsteps on the stairs told him he could not put off the confrontation with his wife any longer.

‘Morning Marie,’ he said brightly as she pushed the door open and stepped into the dimly lit kitchen. She gave him a hard stare before brushing past him to the range where the coffee bubbled in its pot.

‘You is up bright and early this morning,’ she said, pouring herself a cup. ‘Busy day ahead then?’ She rummaged in the cupboard over the work surface, slamming the door shut as she came out empty handed.

‘Ah, yes – sugar,’ said Phil, beating a hasty retreat into the bar where the tables were set ready for lunch. He grabbed some sugar in paper packets and slid behind the bar, taking a deep breath before steeling himself for the looming argument.

‘Thanks,’ said Marie, stirring her coffee energetically. Phil kept his eyes lowered as he picked up the spoon and rinsed it under the tap. The silence stretched between them,
accentuated
by the stillness of the empty pub. A fly buzzed against the window, hurling itself at the glass in a desperate bid for freedom. Phil knew exactly how it felt. He glanced up and saw his wife was watching him over the rim of her coffee beaker.

‘So when was you planning on telling me then?’ she asked and gave an amused snort at his startled look. ‘Oh for
goodness
sake man, I ain’t stupid. Anyways, that Tom Monarch, he put his head round the door to thank me for their supper. Made a point of it, in fact. Said he was looking forward to next week. Least he’s got some manners, not like some of ’em.’

Phil opened his mouth but couldn’t think of a single word to say.

‘Look, I know times is hard and likely to get no better, far as we can see ahead, but I don’t like this. There was Micky, drinking here all night, only night them lot was here, right?
He’s hanging around and muttering and grinning at them and suddenly he’s dead, drowned in the canal on his way home. I think that’s a bit of a coincidence and so do you if you was honest about it. Well, you’ve made an agreement now and it don’t matter how good his manners is, you don’t go back on your word with Tom Monarch, so we must just get on with it. Mark my words though,’ she flung over her shoulder as she headed out to the bar, ‘ain’t no good coming from this. No good at all.’

The atmosphere in the probation office at Highpoint was strained as the officers went back to work and the clerical staff settled down in their office. Pauline unlocked the main door and they prepared for the inevitable influx of queries, excuses and hostility that comprised a normal day, but strangely there was no rush for the desk. The waiting room was empty, the dust flickering in the last pale sunlight of autumn as it drifted, undisturbed, in the hush. In the main office, however, there was some fierce wrangling going on.

‘I reckon is your turn anyway,’ said Lauren, glaring at Mavin, a tall, willowy woman with a shock of auburn hair. ‘I had the last two newbies and Alison took over Alex early, so is someone else’s job this time.’

Mavin sighed as she folded her long frame into her typing chair. ‘I’ve spent months getting Eddie’s records in order,’ she said. ‘I’m not handing that over and starting again from scratch. It’s not fair to ask me and I won’t do it. What about you Sam?’ She nodded towards a small, plump woman sitting at her typewriter and pointedly ignoring the whole
conversation
.

‘Me? What?’ Sam blinked at her from behind her large, blue-tinted glasses and shook her head in mock sympathy. ‘Oh, I’ve got Paul’s brood and they come through so fast I’ve got twice the number of reports to do compared to the rest of you. I’m not in any position to nurse a new starter I’m afraid.’ She bent her head over her work and refused to be drawn any further into the discussion.

Mavin turned back to Lauren and shrugged. ‘Well, I heard they’ve decided you should take him, so it doesn’t matter what we say, does it?’ Pauline swept in through the lockable safety door and looked around at the bent heads, a picture of industry. She suppressed a smile as she noted the flushed faces and lack of paper in Lauren’s typewriter.

‘Yes,’ she said, ‘we did not get around to allocating the new officer in all this morning’s excitement. Up to now we have been trying to operate on a rota basis, in fairness to everyone. After all, there may be a lighter case load for a first year officer but there is a lot more hands-on work for the support person. Now Lauren, you have been very successful in this role over the past year or so and I am wondering whether you might like to take on responsibility for nurturing our new colleagues on a regular basis.’

There was a long silence as Lauren stared at her desk, at a loss how to answer. This was a tremendous compliment from Pauline who was notoriously difficult to please and in any other circumstance she would have jumped at the chance to take a role that offered more variety, more interest and relief from the seemingly endless grind of preparing court reports, but there was a downside. Finally, she raised her eyes and looked miserably at Pauline who was watching her closely.

‘Well, it’s a big decision, so perhaps you would like to think about it and come to see me later,’ said her senior with surprising gentleness.

Lauren took a deep breath and nodded. ‘Yes.’ Her voice was strangely high. ‘Thank you, I’ll do that.’

‘Right then, back to work.’ Pauline turned back towards the window, frowning at the empty yard. ‘I wonder where they all are?’ she added. ‘Last week we were virtually under siege but today – I don’t know what’s happening.’

Upstairs, Sue was also at the window, tapping her foot impatiently as the clock ticked away the minutes past the hour. ‘Where the hell has he got to?’ she fumed. Patience exhausted, she tugged her door open and headed for the
stairs, narrowly missing Gordon who was coming back from his meeting with Garry.

‘Whoa! Slow down – you’re getting as bad as Alex,’ he said, steering her gently round by the shoulders.

‘Sorry Gordon, I just didn’t see you there. Oh, how did it go with Garry then?’ She flicked her chin upwards to indicate the top floor.

Gordon sighed. ‘I’m not sure to be honest,’ he said. ‘When I got there he was sitting at his desk and he acted as if nothing had happened. He listened to me and made some notes and then said to go ahead and organize things as I thought best. I’m really not sure he heard much of what I said.’

For almost the first time since she’d known him, Gordon looked genuinely worried and Sue hesitated, wanting to give him some of the support he showed to everyone else in the office, but there was a sudden bang downstairs, the sound of the front door being slammed, followed by loud voices, and instead she gave him a quick smile and took off down the stairs. Gordon gazed after her and shook his head before resuming his trek to the room at the far end of the corridor where his own problems waited.

In the reception area all was chaos. Pauline had come to the counter as soon as she heard the door slam and was remonstrating with an all-too familiar figure as a group of youths shoved one another and made mock wrestling moves before flinging themselves onto the chairs. Sue glided across the room, seized one young man by his ear and hauled him to his feet. There was a sudden hush as the rest of them saw her, and several pairs of feet slid down from the coffee table and came to rest on the floor as their owners sat up straight and tried to look away without appearing too obvious.

‘Shut up Brian,’ she said without turning her head, and the argument at the counter ceased mid-sentence. For a moment the only sound was a low moaning from the youth she had by the ear, now bent over, his head on one side, greasy hair flopping over one eye.

Sue let go, stepping back and flicking her fingers as if shaking something noxious from them. ‘And you can sit down properly too, Darren,’ she said. Darren folded himself into the nearest chair, clutching his ear and glaring at her.

‘Now, just what is going on,’ Sue demanded, ‘and why are you all late? Your day centre orders are for 9.30 and if you’re not here on time we can count you absent and report you. So, go on, give me a good reason not to.’

There was a round of shuffling and a bit of mumbling from the group as they glanced at one another, no-one willing to speak up and risk Sue’s wrath.

‘Come on,’ she said, tapping her gold-sandalled foot
impatiently
. ‘You were making enough noise a minute ago. What about you Brian?’ She swung round and fixed him with a piercing look. ‘You look like a leadership sort of person. Why don’t you tell me what’s been going on?’

At that moment the door creaked open a few inches and one eye peeked through the gap. At the sight of Brian it vanished and there was the sound of footsteps hurrying away down the steps and across the yard.

Before Sue could react, Pauline was at the door and off after the fleeing figure. ‘Simon,’ she called. ‘SIMON!’

‘Oh, I should have guessed,’ said Sue. ‘You should all be thoroughly ashamed of yourselves. Stand up. Now!’

The group shambled to their feet, arms flopping at their sides, eyes firmly fixed on the worn carpet as if seeking a dropped fag-end. Sue gestured Brian over to stand with the others.

‘Well, what a bunch of brave lads you are,’ she continued, her voice dripping scorn. ‘How many of you are there – five? And not one brain between you. Five big tough lads picking on someone all on his own. Oh yes, really something to boast about. Well, it is something to go on your records and if there is ever the slightest hint of anything like this again you are all going back to court. Do you hear me?’

There was a slight shuffle, a shrug or two from the group and she shouted, ‘Do you hear me?’

‘Yes Miss,’ muttered Darren followed by a few sullen “Yeah”s’.

‘Right, well don’t you forget it. Now bugger off into the day centre and wait until someone comes for you. And no using the pool table either. You can just stand and wait.’

The door into the centre slammed behind them and Sue took a deep breath as a voice from behind said, ‘We can’t actually breach them for that you know.’

Sue sighed as she turned to face Gordon, who was leaning on the counter watching her. ‘I know that,’ she said, ‘but those little dumb bunnies don’t’.

Gordon grinned at her, raising one eyebrow in admiration. ‘You are a bad woman,’ he said.

‘Maybe, but I think I’m a decent probation officer,’ she countered. Gordon nodded. ‘You are certainly turning into one,’ he said. ‘Still, be careful, Sue. Things are changing round here. The job is turning into something … different and we will need to change with it. Just watch your step, okay?’

Sue stared after him as he made his way back up the stairs. He looked tired, she thought. Tired and worried. And if Gordon was worried then something was definitely wrong.

Sue caught up with Pauline in the office after lunch. ‘It didn’t take Brian long to revert to type,’ she said.

Pauline shrugged. ‘Well, he’s back with his family,’ she said. ‘There’s a distinct lack of moral fibre in that particular gene pool. He’s drinking again and of course all his old friends are around him egging him on, so I suppose it’s only a matter of time …’ Her voice trailed off and she stared sadly at the desk for a moment.

Pauline was very fond of Brian, Sue recalled. She’d known him for years and watched him grow up, a credit to the local Boys Brigade with a real chance of making something of himself before he slipped slowly into the ooze of petty crime and substance abuse that surrounded so many young people in the area. She’d hauled him out on several occasions, the last only a few months ago when he had been part of the
probation team in the Raft Race, but it looked as if he was going under for the third time and even Pauline had little hope they could rescue him again.

‘What was all that racket anyway?’ Sue asked.

Pauline snorted impatiently. ‘Well, for goodness’ sake! Simon was out there trying to park his lorry. You know the way he moves backwards and forwards and makes all those beeping noises?’

Sue nodded. Like half of the town she was familiar with young Simon Adams and his imaginary lorry. The lad ran everywhere, normally on bare feet and along the roads, ‘driving’ a truck that existed only in his mind. It was a miracle he’d not been run down and seriously injured, if not killed, but no-one had yet been able to persuade him away from his fantasy.

‘Well,’ Pauline continued, ‘that bunch of half-wits,’ she jerked her head towards the workshop where the day’s arrivals were now labouring under the eagle-eyes of Eddie, ‘they decided to ride imaginary motorbikes around him and box him in. Simon found he couldn’t move his lorry without hitting one of the ‘bikes’ and he was in tears before they left him to come inside.’

Back upstairs in her room, Sue laid her head on her desk and closed her eyes. She was suddenly very, very tired, almost overwhelmed by a sense of the futility of her actions. Nothing seemed to change, or it took so long to change it was often too late, and for every one she helped out of a life of crime there were two more at the door. It was hard to remember that although she saw the same old problems time and again, they were embodied in different people. She tried to keep in mind that it was this lad’s big brother or older cousin she had helped last time and this problem was a new experience for a new offender. A young lad who maybe felt no-one could possibly have felt like this before, so there was no way out of this situation and no way anyone could help. With their hard eyes and crude letters tattooed on their knuckles, their suspicions and the scorn with which they treated this, their
last chance, they were becoming interchangeable,
indistinguishable
one from another except for the occasional lost, gentle soul like Simon. Some days she wondered why she bothered.