Two Women (51 page)

But Angelina had been a hard-nosed little bitch who knew more about life than most scientists could ever guess at. Then, so did Wendy in many respects. Roselle wondered how poor Sue would react to the news. Locked up as she was, there was precious little she could do to make any real difference.

As she thought of her friend Roselle felt the familiar sickness in her belly. She was locked up for nothing really, it should have been Barry who had been taken away from his kids. Because he wouldn’t have cared.

Ivan let himself into the flat then and Roselle smiled as he walked into the lounge.

‘You’re up early, Roselle. I was just coming in to drop off a few things for Joe. He’s due home later today, isn’t he?’

She smiled.

‘Yes, he is, and you can come in and out of here any time, you know that.’

In days gone by he would find a locked door and know that meant she had company. It had been many, many months since he had found a locked door now and that worried him.

‘You’re a young woman, you deserve a bit of fun. Don’t let Barry’s children take over your life. He was scum. By God, I wish I’d never clapped eyes on him. I knew he’d be trouble. But not as much trouble as he eventually was, I can tell you.’

‘I’ll get you a coffee. I could do with one myself.’

As she walked out into the kitchen, her pert bottom swaying as she walked, Ivan wished he could still find it in him to raise an erection. But those days were long gone and he had to accept that. He couldn’t raise more than a smile these days and that hurt. Now he made money and waited for death, taking his enjoyment from eating, drinking and socialising.

For a while Roselle had given him back his youth. She had also given him a son, a fine handsome boy with good looks and a good brain. But he worried about her. She had taken on this girl as if she was family when of course she wasn’t and never could be.

As Roselle walked back to him with the coffee he smiled at her. She saw the watery eyes of an old man and it saddened her. Ivan was really ageing lately and she wondered what the hell she would do without him.

As she leaned forward he saw a little flash of creamy flesh and dark brown nipple. He shrugged.

‘These days, Roselle, I can look and that’s all. A terrible thing for a man.’

She stroked his face tenderly.

‘Only if the man never enjoyed anything in his life. You have your memories and you have me and Joseph. What more could you want from life?’

‘Put like that, my dear, it sounds almost interesting. Now what’s the latest on the girl?’

Part of Ivan’s charm was the way he always hit the nail on the head. He knew she was worried and that it could only be for one reason.

‘Apparently, Wendy threatened one of her social workers with a blade. They found it where he said it would be and brought in the police. But she must have had a reason. She
must
have. I know that girl and she’s not like that, Ivan. If she had a blade it was to protect herself from someone or something.’

He nodded.

‘Maybe someone there was giving her a hard time. In those environments it’s not unheard of. Can you get to see her?’

Roselle nodded.

‘The police were called in but the man, a Mr Alfred Potter, refused to bring charges against her. Which I think is good of him really. But then social workers are all bleeding hearts, aren’t they?

‘I mean, you read about these kids all the time in the papers. But it’s only when you know one personally that your opinion changes.’

Ivan grinned.

‘Those homes give us our best hostesses, don’t forget that. They get a good education in those places. Not the education people think they’re getting either!’

Roselle didn’t laugh but she saw the truth of his statement. Many of the girls she had worked with over the years had been in care, a term she had found increasingly strange considering what happened to most of them while allegedly being cared for.

‘I wonder if there’s any way we could find out about this Mr Potter?’

Ivan shook his wizened old head and grinned again.

‘I’ll find out about him. You relax and get yourself ready for the day. I still have a few contacts here and there, especially in the police force. I’ll see what I can dig up.’

‘It’s so strange that she threatened him, you know? Why would Wendy threaten anyone?’

Ivan didn’t answer because he knew Roselle was already thinking along the same lines as he was.

 

Wendy was tired, tired and upset.

In the isolation room, as it was called, she was expected to reflect on what she had done. Remember that Mr Potter had been
good
to her, and ask herself why she had acted as she had.

She had toyed with the idea of telling them why but knew from the other girls that accusing anyone of sexual misconduct was a complete and utter waste of time.

The fact that they were young girls and boys in care meant they were already assumed to be sexually aware and active. Most of them were, which was sad but true. But most of them had learned what they knew from people like Mr Potter.

He was a predator. He tried to make them his confidantes and friends and then the real ugliness started. An arm around a shoulder that just brushed a breast. The game playing and pretend fighting which enabled him to grab and drag at their bodies, pretending it was all innocent fun.

Oh, she knew all these things, knew them off by heart. The girls talked about it among themselves, joked about it even. But it wasn’t funny because when it went too far there was no one to listen and definitely no one to protect you.

Well, Wendy had protected herself and she was glad she had. It wasn’t the first time and she had a feeling it wouldn’t be the last.

The door opened and her heart jumped into her throat. She saw Miss Beacham with a tray of tea and sandwiches. The young woman smiled at her and Wendy smiled tremulously back. Never in her life had she been so glad to see anyone.

‘I thought I’d bring you a little lunch. See how you were faring.’

Miss Beacham had an ugly face, a thin body and a beautiful speaking voice. Wendy could listen to her for hours.

‘Thank you, miss.’

She took the proffered tray and set it on the windowsill, there being no furniture of any kind in the room except a small bunk.

‘Can I get you anything?’

Wendy nodded.

‘A cigarette wouldn’t go amiss.’

Miss Beacham pulled one of her faces. She had facial expressions that said more than all the words in the English dictionary.

‘I’ll see what I can do, but no promises mind.’

As anti-smoking as she was, she knew the value of a familiar thing in this grim environment. Everyone had something they did to relieve stress. For most of the kids in her care it was a cigarette, even the youngest ones of seven and eight. It galled her, but she understood it.

That was her secret with the kids she cared for: she tried to understand them. And to help them. And the kids responded to this, because unlike her peers she didn’t try to force her opinions on them. She simply expressed them and left them to make what they could of them.

‘How’s Mr Potter?’

Miss Beacham made one of her lightning changes of expression and shrugged.

‘Well, by all accounts. Though obviously in shock.’

The words were said flippantly and without real feeling. She did not like Mr Potter and he did not like her. She knew it was because she was unattractive. He, like most men, only saw any value in women who were attractive.

‘What will happen to me?’

She heard the loneliness and fear in Wendy’s words and stifled an urge to take her in her arms and comfort her.

‘A few days in here then pretend you’ve learned your lesson and go back to the usual. Oh, and Mr Potter has been changed on to days for some reason, so that’s something to look forward to, eh?’

Wendy smiled then, a big smile. Miss Beacham was telling her she knew the score, understood. That meant more to the girl than anything. She had an ally at last, a real ally.

‘Now eat that lot and keep your strength up. You’ll need it, my dear.’

Wendy nodded, happier now she knew what was to happen to her.

‘I’m on the sleepover tonight so I might be able to sneak in a couple of Benson’s. I’ll see, okay?’

Wendy nodded once more and when the woman left hugged herself in delight.

At least she had one worry out of the way. Potter was not doing any more sleepovers. She could relax at last.

Susan was tired but exhilarated. She had just had her first session in the gym and had been surprised to find she enjoyed it. In her pocket was a letter and it had made her so happy she had to keep touching it, just to remind herself it was really there.

Going back to her cell, she sat on the bunk and got out the two sheets of paper to read it again.

She was amazed that Peter White could find it in his heart to drop her a line. The letter had been posted two months previously. It had her name on the envelope and that was all. No prison number. He had just posted it to her care of HMP Holloway. It had been sent on to Durham and now it was back in her hand and making her very happy.

It was just a friendly note really, asking how she was, how the kids were, and telling her that he was off on the ACT 2 boat to Australia. He liked the meat boats, he said. Especially the new ones. He described it all to her then ended with his address at sea.

He wanted her to write back to him, he said. They both relied on letters to keep them abreast of things in the outside world so they should write to one another and catch up as often as they could.

Susan hugged the letter to her breast and sighed. It would be wonderful to write to him, hear his news, hear about the countries he visited. The people he met. She could maybe see the world through his eyes.

He had put a kiss underneath his name and that had pleased her too. She would write to him after lunch. Tell him the little bit about herself she could and then ask some good questions so he would have something to focus on in his reply.

PO Billings came in and smiled at her.

‘Your brief’s here, Dalston. Get yourself together, you’re to see him now.’

Susan was startled.

‘What’s he want?’

The woman shrugged.

‘You tell me, mate. Now get your arse in gear, he’s already at visit.’

Susan tidied herself up as best she could and followed the woman from the cell. She was scared now, frightened. She knew this wasn’t a regular visit and she was afraid that something had happened to one of the kids. Her mind was racing as she thought of every bad scenario she could think. Rosie was ill to the point of death. Barry was lying somewhere with broken bones. The list was endless. Even though she knew she was torturing herself her mind would not stop working overtime.

Every door seemed to take ages to unlock, and everyone seemed to be hindering her progress. When she finally walked into the visiting room, Susan was sweating all over again. Colin was standing by the window, his slim frame outlined by the sunshine outside.

‘What’s the matter, is it one of the kids?’

He could hear the anxiety in her voice at once.

‘It’s Wendy. Now before you lose it, she’s okay. Nothing physically wrong with her at all.’

Susan felt her whole body sag. Sitting in the chair by the table, she sighed heavily.

‘What’s happened then?’ Her face was so white she looked like a corpse. Even her lips seemed drained of colour.

‘She attacked her social worker with a small blade.’ Colin held up his hand to keep her quiet. ‘Before you start, hear me out, Susan. She’s well, she’s not being nicked, the social worker won’t press charges. She is being punished at the home. It’s no big deal. They cope with this sort of thing all the time there and they understand it. She’s more worried about you finding out which is only natural.’

Susan was staring at him as if he had just sprouted a long red beard and pixie ears.

‘She what! My Wendy did what?’

She sounded so incredulous, looked so shocked, that Colin felt an urge to laugh at her.

‘Look, really, Susan, it sounds much worse than it is. Believe me.’

She was shaking her head in consternation.

‘What did he do to her then? Why did she threaten him?’

Colin shrugged.

‘I don’t know.’

‘What do you mean, you don’t know? What, she just got a blade and decided to threaten one of the social workers, is that what you’re asking me to believe? That my Wendy just flipped out, is that what you’re saying?’

She was standing up now. She looked frightening. The PO on duty walked to her and lowered her back into her chair. Susan shrugged her off as if she was an annoying fly or mosquito.

‘Calm down, Dalston.’

‘Calm down! You’re having a tin bath, you are. How can I calm down? My baby’s in trouble and I can’t even talk to her. Is she in a state? Is she okay? What?’

Colin closed his eyes in annoyance. This woman was causing him more trouble than anyone in his life before. She would not help herself at all. In fact it even seemed as if she didn’t want to get out. Wanted to stay locked up. On top of all that, she expected him to take care of everything as if he was a blood relative, which thankfully he was not.

‘Listen, Susan, will you just calm down?’

The PO hovered nearby. Susan could smell her deodorant, a thick cloying smell that made her stomach revolt.

‘I can’t take much more. I take oath, I can’t take much more of this.’

Colin went to her and laid a hand gently on her shoulder.

‘I understand, Susan, really I do. Why won’t you help yourself now? You could be home with your children sooner than you expect.’

She pulled away from him, eyes downcast.