Humber Boy B (30 page)

At home, Cate was helping Amelia with her spellings. Helping was perhaps the wrong word, as Amelia was struggling and Cate was at the end of her tether, so Amelia was now bent over an A4 pad, her hand moving like a slug, because she was being forced to write BECAUSE fifty times.

“Amelia, what on earth are they teaching you at that school?” And then, quick as a dog on a bone the thought that always followed:
I’m not spending enough time with her. I don’t read with her enough
.

And a new thought, one she would never have dreamed of before today:
I could take a career break, concentrate on being just a mum. Concentrate on being in love
.

The doorbell rang and Amelia ran for it as if it had saved her from a terrible fate. She open the door and yelled, “Grandma!” with extra pleasure because she sensed a reprieve from spelling. Cate realised that it was now her turn to suffer.

Entering the kitchen in a breeze of purple satin and musky perfume, her mother purred, “Catherine,” then seemed to bend and kiss her but all Cate felt was a vague waft of heavily perfumed air across the top of her ear. Was her mother attempting to camouflage the smell of booze?

“Hi, Mum.”

“So,” she sat at the dining table and pushed Amelia’s school notebook aside to make space for her elbows, as if settling in for a cosy chat. In fact, Cate realised, her mother looked thrilled and her purple blouse looked new. She was carefully made up and her hair looked freshly coloured. “I hear you’ve seen Liz.”

“I’ve been to the hotel, yes. And we had coffee in town last Sunday.”

Her mother’s face was flushed, and on this occasion it looked like pleasure and not alcohol. “Good.” She turned to Amelia who had found her iPad down the side of the sofa and was scrolling through it, one earphone in her ear, the other dangling. “And did you see your Aunt Elizabeth?” she asked Amelia.

“No, but Mum says I can soon.”

“Of course you can!” She turned back to Cate. “It’s been so wonderful, we just had lunch at the new place near the church in town, do you know it? Run by the mentally disabled, so you have to be prepared to wait, but very cheap.” Cate winced. “And then we did some shopping. All these years, this is what I missed.”

A pause, a moment for them both to acknowledge that Cate had been around. Cate was not the gap in her mother’s life though, that space was reserved for Liz alone.

“Amelia, why don’t you go play in your room?”

“Hey?” Amelia lifted her head, mouthing the words of whatever song she was listening to, then said, “I’m nearly eleven, Mum. I don’t
play
.”

“Go listen to your music in your room, then.”

“‘Kay, Mum. See you later.” Amelia disappeared fast, delighted with this unexpected turn after her terrible performance with BECAUSE.

Mother and daughter waited until they heard the sigh of a closing bedroom door, Amelia’s voice signing along softly to music only she could hear.

“You seem very happy, Mum. You look good too.”

Her mother’s mouth remained tightly pursed but her eyes lit with pride. Carefully she said, “I’m back at AA and haven’t had a drink in six days. I want to be sober for the court hearing.”

“You’re going?”

“Going? My darling, I’m a key witness.”

This was a change from what Liz had told her. “But did you know?” Cate’s heart felt leaden. “And you did nothing?”

The question hung between them, so Cate wished she could snatch it from the air and stuff in back into her mouth like a gag. She wasn’t sure she was ready for her mother’s answer.

Her mother looked pained, then defiant. “I tried to block it out with drink, but now that Liz has given me a second chance I’m going to be there for her. Her team say I have to be sober for it to stand in court, and I’ve promised I’ll do it.”

Cate found that she couldn’t speak, words simply failed her. Her mother had known, then. The final chance for their relationship was that she too had been ignorant to the abuse, but that possibility was gone. This was really happening, her father in court, her sister and mother in the witness box. Unless he pleaded guilty there was going to be a trial.

“What do you think Dad will say?”

Her mother’s face resumed a familiar look of contempt. “He’ll deny everything. Like he always did.”

So. A trial. Hours and days of painful testimonials, memories resurrected from childhood, paraded before a jury for their scrutiny and judgement. One word against the other about events from decades ago, and a jury who would have to decide whom they believed.

“I can’t speak in court, Mum. I didn’t know… I wouldn’t be any use.” All she has is vague memories, the feeling that Liz was better loved. None of this amounted to anything in a trial. And it could be misconstrued, distorted by the defence.

“Of course you’ll be of use. Finally, your career giving some tangible benefit to the family. You’re the only one of us who has ever been in a court room.”

“But this would be different. Personal. I think it’s best if I’m not there.”

It crushed her, the feeling that she was turning her back on Liz just when she had a chance to build a relationship with her. She longed, just once, to be making decisions that were easy. And her mum was judging her, she felt it.

“Cate, you will be there because your sister needs you. And so do I. Please don’t let us down.”

81

Ben

Cheryl is checking her phone, tapping a text message to someone, but when she sees I’m awake she closes the screen and places it on the bedside table.

“Was that Adam?”

She hesitates then says, “Yeah. ’Fraid so.”

“He’s here, isn’t he? I know it was him I saw.”

“Don’t be stupid, I told you he’s in Hull. You’re just imagining things.” Then, as if to close the matter, she says, “He has got a job to do, you know.”

I don’t know, not really. She could be lying, he could be outside the flat right now, waiting for a moment to pounce on me. But if it was him who attacked me, why wear a balaclava? Why not let me see his face, after all, I’d asked for it. His girlfriend is lying naked in my bed, making me feel things I never thought possible, that I didn’t think I deserved to feel.

Despite the fact that my face is bruised, even though I know someone is out there looking for me, Cheryl being here is something good. When I start to doubt this I think of her kissing me, and tell myself I’m just being paranoid.

Cate is meeting me at the aquarium today. It’s a review meeting, or so she says, to see how the placement is going, and our official story is that I’m on a Community Punishment order for driving offences. She didn’t go into more detail than that, and Leon won’t ask. He made it clear at the start that he doesn’t want to know what I did. But now I’ve told Issi and I can’t be sure that she hasn’t told him.

The kettle is boiling and Leon is already on page four of
The Sun
, so I walk past him into our staff room and start to make us tea. When I put his mug in front of him he shakes his head.

“That’s terrible.”

I look into the mug, but the tea looks the right colour to me. “Do you want me to make another?”

But then I realise his eyes are on the double-paged article lying next to him. “What makes a kid do something like that?”

I don’t move, don’t need to. That article is about me, it’s the one that Cate warned me about. When I try to sip my tea my hand shakes, and some spills onto the print, darkening the words. There’s a picture of Noah’s mum, she used to be so pretty but now she looks older and haggard. She’s clutching a framed photo of Noah. Worse, there’s another photo of Noah and me, in his garden, holding his scooter between us. I can see, and it must be obvious to Leon, that the kid on the right is me. The same white-blond hair, the same blue eyes. The same small, runty frame.

I squeeze my eyes shut, step backwards. Did Issi tell him? If Leon knows I’ll have to go and never come back. I simply can’t think or talk about it. Not here, this aquarium. My safe place.

Just then the door slides open, and there stands my probation officer, smart in her navy suit, obviously not here to see the fish.

“Morning. I’m Cate,” she offers Leon her hand, which he takes and pumps vigorously.

“Morning, love. Leon. The boy’s just made tea, and I have to say he’s pretty good at it. You want one?”

She looks at me then, smiles. “Hi, Ben. Milk no sugar, thanks.”

I return to the staff room and I hear Leon say to Cate, “You see this? Terrible thing. But then, you must know all about it?”

Oh shit.

I pour the water into a clean mug even though it’s not re-boiled yet, and leave the teabag in rather than waiting because I want to get back to Leon and Cate quickly. When I do she looks shocked, unsure what to say, so I push the tea at her and say, “Yeah, it’s awful.” She understands. Leon meant she knows all about crime generally, not this one specifically, though she does because I’m standing here.

We exchange a look.

“What I don’t get is why?” Leon is still reading the article. “Explain to me why a ten-year-old boy would do something like this?”

Cate sips her tea, which I know must taste awful, tepid and weak, but to her credit she doesn’t show this. “I think that a child only does something that terrible if their experiences of life have been terrible. If they’ve been badly treated or neglected.”

“Abuse, is it? Seems to be everywhere these days.”

“No!” I say, before I can stop myself. Both of them are staring at me. “That’s no excuse,” I add.

“Not an excuse, but a reason,” Cate says softly. Cate continues to speak, gently peeling back the layers of my protection and leaving my shitty childhood exposed. “His dad wasn’t around, his step-dad didn’t love him. His mum had mental health problems that she medicated with alcohol so she wasn’t as attentive as she should have been. It all adds up, Ben. That’s the thing.”

And I splutter, emotion in my chest rises and bursts from my mouth. And then I’m crying and she’s holding me steady.

“It’s okay, Ben,” she says into my ear so Leon won’t hear. “It’s over now.”

But when we pull apart, Leon is looking from the newspaper article back to me and I see that he knows already.

82

Cate

Cate saw the pained realisation in Leon’s eyes, the horror as he looked back at the newspaper, then the gaze of sheer disappointment as he turned to Ben.

“How could it happen, Ben? You seem like a good kid. Why would someone like you do an evil thing like that?” He lifted the page of the newspaper with his index finger as if it was foul.

Cate could have intervened, but Leon had asked the question she too most wanted answered. And though she wouldn’t have planned for this to happen, she wanted to see the outcome.

The aquarium door slides open and a mother comes in, clutching the hand of a toddler in dungarees who is sucking an orange lolly, the same colour as his hair. The mother who gazes wide eyed at the nearby tanks, her voice singing, “Won’t this be fun, Rolf?” and then comes to an abrupt halt at the desk, seeing Cate, Ben and Leon.

“Are you open?” she asks uncertainly.

Leon looks at the boy with his lolly, who still hasn’t given the fish a second glance, and says, “I’m sorry, love, but we’re closed just now. Staff meeting. But we’ll be open after lunch and I’ll give you free entry. How’s that?”

The woman’s frown softens and she reaches for her sticky child. “Let’s go play in the park, Rolf. We’ll come back later.”

The boy takes her hand, clearly unconcerned that his trip to the aquarium is off the table.

Leon follows them out, waves goodbye and then locks the door.

“Okay. Now we can talk.” He sounds exhausted, but Cate can also see that he really cares about Ben as he leans across the desk and holds Ben’s wrist. This makes Cate nervous as she watches Ben struggle to explain the unexplainable. It means that Leon has more emotion invested, could be more easily disappointed. And Ben needs all the support he can get.

“I was only ten. Noah was my friend, it wasn’t like I set out to do anything… It was a weird day. Everyone was acting off, first Stuart left even though he had promised to take Adam to Scarborough, then Mum said she had a headache and was staying in bed even though she’d told Jess that she’d look after Noah for the day. It was like every adult we saw hated us or didn’t trust us or didn’t even see us.”

The water filters gurgle in the tank nearest them, the lack of natural light suddenly feels oppressive and it seems to Cate that Ben has grown younger. She can see him, at ten. Confused and unwanted with too much time to kill.

Leon looks like he might weep. He is still holding Ben’s wrist, as if this gesture could undo the damage done.

“Please tell me you didn’t do it, Ben,” he pleads. “Tell me it’s not like they describe in the newspaper.”

Ben doesn’t speak. But his mouth quivers, his face seems to melt with pain.

“I think I just wanted to see what would happen.” Ben looks down, shuffles his feet.

“But how was he even there?” Leon asked, frowning. “On the wrong side of the barrier.”

“He climbed over. He wanted to be noticed. We all did.”

“
I just wanted to see what would happen
. That’s all he had to say for himself?”

Paul leaned back, his arms behind his head. A look on his face that was both weary and cynical. But Cate didn’t feel either, she thought Ben had answered Leon as well as he was able.

“The thing is, Paul, it was so obviously the truth. You know, I could just tell that he was as confused as we were, but that it was an honest answer. It was an impulsive move, without any pre-meditation.”

Paul sighed theatrically. “So, that’s it? A random act where a child ends up dead. That’s bullshit, Cate. It’s just not good enough.”

Anger came quickly to Cate, surprising her with its force. “Not good enough for whom? For Ben’s family? Because they’re in the mix too. His step-dad? Who never loved him, his mum who neglected him. And what about Noah’s mum, leaving him in the care of the neighbourhood alcoholic… ”

“Careful Cate. Victim, remember?”