Gut Instinct (16 page)

I felt elated.  I could visualise my impending freedom.  I could almost
sense
the strength of my real mother
’
s arms around me, the warmth of her tears falling on to my cheeks
.  I could feel her
undying love oozing into my wounds, her soft hands touching them and healing them.

I poured her a drink and gave her the bottle.  Glaring at her waiting, knowing that she would only speak when she was ready and if I asked too many questions, she would shut down completely.

And then she told me,

“Well son when you was about one, I was looking for a child, I couldn’t have them you see, I had an illness when I was younger that made me infertile.

I was a cleaner for people with money
, lots
of money at the time.

One day as I was walking home from work, I
saw you, playing in the garden of this lovely house, with swings and slides and a swimming pool in the garden
.

I stood and watched you for a while and your mummy came out, she was the most beautiful woman I had ever seen.  Not fair that, not fair that some women should have it all, beauty, money, nice house, children, handsome husband.  I remember
thinking that at the time, not fair that she should have everything and I should have nothing.

I watched you playing contentedly with all these wonderful toys, and her looking at you with love in her eyes, and then she turned and went inside.

That’s when I did it! I snatched you, ran away with you and kept you for myself”

I could feel the tears welling up in my eyes, not from sadness, from happiness.  I had another mummy, a better mummy, a mummy that was out there looking for me.

“Off to bed now son” she said serious and deep in thought.

I hopped, skipped and jumped up those stairs feeling happier than I ever had.

For the next
two weeks
I lay awake waiting, waiting for her to find me, to come and get me.  I dreamed the most picturesque and exquisite dreams of my mother, my home and the wonderful life that I would have
,
once I was found.

Then in my dark moments I would figure out how unrealistic this was.  How would she ever find me
, no-one even knew I existed.

My mother had never mentioned it again, and I knew better than to ask.

That’s when I came up with my plan, if Mohammed couldn’t come to the mountain,
if my mummy couldn’t come to me
the
n the mountain would go
to her
.

I waited tolerantly
until Friday night came when I knew she would be out the house from seven thirty until eleven thirty.  I’d never done this before and knew the consequences of my actions would be catastrophic if I was to be caught.  But I didn’t care, I had something to cling on to now, I had the promise of another life, a better life.

Friday night came and I watched her get ready, dancing around the kitchen in an animated way, as she always did on a Friday night, made up like a clown, skirts just below the
knicker
line and tops just above the nipple.

I was
e
nergised today too.  Today I was going to find who my real mother was then I was going to run away and find her.

It was hard to keep my excitement contained, but I did, I was a good actor, I’d learned from one of the best.

As soon as she left I was up on my feet and headed for my destination, her room. 

My mother was a narcissist
you see
, if there had been any media coverage about me, she would have kept it, it
would have thrilled her, and gained
her some kind of covert negative attention.

I knew she kept all her personal stuff in her wardrobe, so I took one box out after another, there were old photographs of a child, her I assumed, with stern looking adults, her parents maybe.

I rummaged through old bills and old bank statements and memorabilia from her schooldays. There was a newspaper cutting of her when she was in her teens describing her as a bit of a tearaway and
uproar that as part of her punishment she was going to be sent to a holiday camp.

There were some old love letters from a guy she had been writing to in prison eight years ago.

Minutes passed into hours unt
il all these boxes of what to
m
e
was rubbish lay spewed all over the bedroom floor.

Nothing! I felt so disheartened.  I was sure I would find something here. But eternal optimist that I am, I didn’t stop, I emptied her drawers of all her clothes searching, hoping and then I found it, a locked old wooden box in the bottom drawer of her tall boy.  Yes this was where she would keep her most hidden secrets. 

I ran downstairs two steps at a time and got a kitchen knife and ran back to the bedroom almost wetting my pants with anticipation and I broke open the box
,
all of its contents falling on to the floor, fumbling  through them like there was no tomorrow.

Then I found it, there would be no tomorrow..........................

In my hands lay my birth certificate with her
name
down
as my mother. 

She had lied........
she
had fucking lied.

I sat on the floor that night in the midst of all that mess and I cried, and cried and cried.

I picked up a lighter off her bedside table and
I set light
t
o my birth certificate
and watched it burn.

I was still crying
and watching the flames turn my birth certificate into ashes and spread to the other papers on the floor,
when I heard her come home and climb the stairs with her next conquest. I didn’t care, my life was over anyway
.

I still recall the look on her face
when she came into the bedroom, and I still recall the consequences of my actions.

This is when I developed an interest in fire.

C
hapter
Twenty-
Four

Thursday 10
th
April

Tanya was on the Leicester to Birmingham train, it was extremely busy she was lucky to get a seat, just managed to grab one with a table near the window.  She had spent most of the journey gazing out of the window deep in thought as the trees and houses whizzed by.

She hadn’t told Stephen that she was coming to Birmingham.  She didn’t know what he would say, how he would react and most of all she did not want the interrogation when she got back.

She had been totally surprised to get the visiting order and the desperate letter from Ivan for her to visit. She’d contemplated not going but the curiosity would have killed her, she hated being out of control, the not knowing would have been worse. She wanted to know what he wanted.  She needed to know if his defence team were going to try and use her.

“The next stop will be Birmingham New Street” came over the train’s
tannoy
system.  She grabbed her bag and waited for the train to slow down as it was entering the station.

She needed to then get to
Winson
Green Prison where Ivan was being held on remand.  She was
feeling
anxious, she had never been to a prison before and didn’t relish the idea of it now, didn’t know what to do when she got there, what the procedure was and how she would feel.

She had spent most of last night lying awake, going through the conversati
ons that they may have so that she
had prepared answers.  She
would rather have this conversation with him now to prevent any surprise subpoenas.  If that happened
, God
she couldn’t bear thinking about that, the truth would undoubtedly come out.

She recalled a client telling her about his experience in court.  He had been trying to claim compensation for an accident he’d had at work.  He was faking it and he’d been comfortable disclosing that to her knowing that their sessions were confidential. 

He was claiming
that the accident had damaged his right leg to a point where he could hardly use it.

The whole case went up in flames when the employer’s barristers produced an application form that he had filled in four weeks previously for a job as a bus driver, where they hastened to add that he would have to use his ri
ght leg quite a lot for this line of employment
.

He’d been gob smacked, couldn’t understand how they had got hold of this material, and
even more dumbfounded when the judge ordered him to pay court costs which amounted to more than his compensation claim would have been.

This was a
double
murder case, there would be
even
more scrutiny
, more need to discredit witnesses from either side.

T
he barristers would have a field day if they looked into her background.

NO this could not happen, she would move away before she would step foot in a court of law.

The train slowly pulled into the station and she pushed through the crowds that were trying to get on as she was getting off, why they can’t just wait until we’ve got off she thought, exasperated by the ignorance of people.

Birmingham was busy, people rushing about reminiscent of an ant colony, shoving and pushing to get to their own destinations no consideration for anyone else.

She hailed a taxi and asked for
Winson
Green Prison.

Thirty minutes later, a journey
that should have only taken ten
if it wasn’t for all the traffic
, and
she
was
outside
the priso
n.

It was a tall green building surrounded unsurprisingly by a tall brick wall.  It was a hideous building and should be she supposed
,
it must house some quite unpleasant people.

S
he
entered the building and
was
told
by a miserable looking screw
to go over the road to a building that looked not dissimilar to a community centre.  Apparently she had to book in there first, she’d be given a number then when her number was called she would come back over to the prison. 

It felt like a daft system but hey ho who was she to say.

The area was pretty scary she thought lots of odd looking characters hanging around or stood doing what looked like deals on the
corner.  She held her handbag close to her and crossed the road,

When she walked into the building it was jam-packed with women, a few men and what seemed like hundreds of kids all running riot.

She walked up to the counter and handed the woman her visiting order.

“You need to hang on to that love” she said “take it across with you, here’s your number 98, you are”

“How long will I have to wait” Tanya asked, not relishing the idea of hanging around here all afternoon.

“How longs a piece of string” she said,
then
noticing Tanya’s downfallen face she said

“Shouldn’t be no longer than about an hour and a half love, take a seat if you can find one, grab yourself a cuppa, and if you need any support there’s a lady over there at that desk who can tell prisoners wives what they are entitled to, I can tell you’re a new one.”

Tanya couldn’t be bothered to correct her, she contemplated going out for a walk for half an hour but she didn’t know which appeared more terrifying in here or outside.

She got herself a cup of coffee and by chance found herself a seat at a table on her own.  The noise was excruciating to her ears, she looked around at the people
waiting patiently for their number to be
called.

How ironic Tanya thought
all the prisoners were numbers and the prisoners wives or family
were
too by all accounts.
She and everyone in this room were just a number visiting a number.  Not such a bad thing for her though she mused.

She sat looking around wishing she had brought a magazine or something, not wanting to open herself out to conversation or inquisitive questions.

The way some of the women
dressed was startling, looked more suited to a street corner
with a five pound note pinned to the
ir
arses Tanya thought.
 

She scolded herself, she was not usually this judgemental but she couldn’t see the point in them dressing in this way.
What were they trying to do tease their men with something they could not have?