Sweetie (34 page)

kind of shadow . . . I don’t know, something dark . . .

you have to fight it. I just know you have to see it off, even if it scares you. And, remember, you are not alone in this. You think it’s bigger than you, but it isn’t. Just like David and Goliath, you can do it against the odds, that’s what this card tells me.’

The woman abruptly swept all the cards together in her hands. Potty waited for something else but she just said, ‘One pound, please.’

‘Is that it?’ Potty asked.

‘Yes, that’s it,’ said the woman, looking straight at her with a look that Potty didn’t want to challenge.

‘Oh, right then. Cheers.’

‘Be lucky, sweetheart,’ the woman called after her as she descended the caravan steps.

Potty didn’t look back but went straight over to the hot-dog stand where Michelle and the girls were waiting.

‘Well, are you going to meet a tall, dark, hand -

some stranger?’ said Michelle, smirking.

‘No, nothing like that.’

‘Well, what then? Come on, don’t be shy, tell me what she said?’ Michelle shushed her girls as they nagged her to go to the carousel.

‘Not now, Michelle, later. Come on, let’s take them on that carousel before they explode.’

Impatiently the girls waited for the ride to come to a halt and before it had even stopped moving were clambering up and rushing for their horses. ‘Be 345

careful!’ Potty shouted after them, her voice lost in the noise of the engine and the music. Lucy rode the carousel with the four younger ones, telling them to make sure they hung on to the pole with both hands or they’d fall off. Michelle and Potty smiled as they watched their girls fly past, huge grins plastered all over their faces, hair flying out behind them.

Both women firmly refused when they whined for another go after their ride had finished. ‘No, you’ll be sick after those hot dogs, let them go down for a bit.

We’ll take you on the dodgems later.’

‘Come on, Potty, come on the waltzers with me, please!’ Michelle tugged at her arm like a child.

‘No, Mich, they’re too fast for me.’

‘Oh, come on, Mum, please. Just once, just for me,’ pleaded Lucy.

‘Yeah, come on, Potty, you gotta live a bit,’

Michelle teased her. And so they got her into the seat, squashed between them on the red leatherette with the bar firmly clamped across their laps. The music was so loud Potty couldn’t hear herself think. As they began to move butterflies rose in her chest. She watched the man who collected the money walk past with his apron full of change, heavy black boots and hands dark with grease. As he passed he flicked the back of their seat and sent them into an early spin as they rose up the ramp and descended into a fast turn.

Michelle threw her head back and screamed with delight, as did Lucy, but Potty began to regret her 346

decision to try the ride. She could feel the bile rise in her stomach and cursed herself for having let them talk her into it.

She endured the next four minutes by breathing deeply and keeping her eyes closed, concentrating on Suzi Quatro singing, ‘
Come alive, come alive, down
in Devilgate Drive!
’ The noise was ear-splitting and she fought down her panic when she opened her eyes briefly and caught Sara and Jessica looking up at her with concern as she flew past them. She wanted to get down, get off the bloody thing and be with her girls, not feel so sick.

The force of the ride had her head pinned against the back of the seat and she felt powerless to move.

Lights flew past in a blur of colour and, seeing her in a state, the guy manning the ride spun their chair extra fast for the last minute of their time. ‘You fucker!’ she managed to scream, and by now tears of real distress were gathering in the corners of her eyes.

Michelle and Lucy apologetically helped her out of the seat when it finally came to a stop and Potty staggered off, nearly tripping down the steep step, and made it to the ground looking green.

‘Mum, are you all right?’ Lucy was worried now, sensing the joke had gone too far.

‘I feel sick.’ Potty leaned over and put her hand to her mouth.

‘Come on, over here.’ Michelle took her hand and 347

led her through the maze of caravans and generators and leads that bordered the edge of the fairground.

‘Stay with the girls, I’ll go on my own,’ said Potty, lurching forwards and coming to a stop about twenty yards from the bandstand where her stomach finally gave up the fight and released its contents. ‘Oh, shit,’

she mumbled between lurches of nausea. She threw up several times and when it finally came to a stop knelt on the grass, dribble rolling out of her mouth on to the ground. She spat several times to clear the taste then sat back on her heels to steady her breathing. It was quiet here and she could get herself back to normal.

She crouched in the grass like that for several minutes, looking up to watch a plane descend over London, its lights flashing in the night sky. Closing her eyes, she took a final breath before climbing to her feet. As she straightened and brushed the dirt off her trousers, a voice said silkily from the darkness,

‘Hello, sweetie.’

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Chapter Twenty

Potty nearly lost her balance as she shot away and headed for the bandstand, tripping on her own bell bottoms and toppling sideways on her platforms as her foot slipped over the edge of her shoe. She felt a sharp pain in her ankle which nearly stalled her, but she managed to lurch towards the lights and the rumble of the generators without stopping to look back. She was panic-stricken, almost forgetting to breathe in her frantic effort to keep running.

She clambered over cables and tow-bars on trucks and cars, trying to glimpse the rifle range where she had left the others behind before she had been thrown off course by the whispering voice of the man hiding in the shadows.

The band had already packed up and headed off home and the audience had gone by the time she reached the open space, leaving only litter in their wake and a few empty deckchairs not yet collected by the park officials. As she heard their voices trailing off into the distance Potty leaned breathlessly against the podium of the bandstand and gulped for air. That smell . . . that terrible smell of tobacco, stale beer and cleaning fluid.

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She wiped her hands over her face in an effort to clear her mind and regain her composure. She needed to find Michelle and the kids, and find them fast. She had been inches from
him
, she was sure of it. She’d recognised that hoarse whisper, she knew the voice, and she had to get back and warn the others, take them home.

She could see the light bulbs twirling round on the rocket ride in the distance. She must have gone full circle round the caravans. It took her a moment to get her bearings. She scanned the darkness, looking to see if anyone had followed her. Her heart was in her mouth, pounding heavily. There was no one close by but she slipped off her platforms, hitched up her trousers and ran in the direction of the rocket ride.

Potty swerved and sprinted through the crowds, eventually reaching the rifle range where she saw Michelle and the kids. Struggling for breath, she said,

‘Let’s go! Let’s get out of here . . .
he’s
here!’

Michelle held out her arms to her frightened friend and soothed her. ‘Easy, easy, just slow down a minute. What’s going on?’

‘He’s over there, Mich, amongst the caravans, about twenty yards from the bandstand. He spoke to me, must have been right beside me while I was throw -

ing up, but I didn’t see anything . . . just this voice, this horrible voice, and that smell!’ Potty panted.

‘How do you know it’s him?’ asked Michelle, and instantly regretted it.

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‘It’s him, I know it! It’s all clear to me now. It sounds like madness, but Grace is right! I just
knew
.’

Potty screamed.

Sara and Jessica started crying then and little Trinity clung to Michelle while Lucy tried to bring order. Aisha stood frozen-faced, staring beyond the caravans into the darkness. A group of teenage boys with long hair and tanned faces swaggered past, laughing at the state of Potty, thinking she had just come off a ride.

‘All right, love? Look like you’ve seen a ghost,’

they jeered.

Michelle didn’t miss a beat. ‘You can fuck off an’

all!’ she shouted, then gently started smoothing Potty’s sweaty hair off her forehead. She felt cold and clammy and looked a sickly grey colour. Michelle looked angrily over her friend’s shoulder towards the bandstand. ‘I’ve half a mind to go over there and wring the bastard’s neck. He thinks he’s got us on the run, does he?’

‘I’ll come!’ offered Lucy eagerly.

‘No, you will not, nobody is going anywhere,’

insisted Potty, getting her breath back. She pulled Sara and Jessica close to her. ‘It’s all right, we’ve got each other, let’s stick together! This is not the time or the place to do anything. Let’s just get out of here.’

‘But we should tell somebody or get the police,’

Lucy insisted. Michelle and Potty rolled their eyes at 351

each other, knowing he’d be long gone by the time a squad car arrived.

‘There’s no point, love, honestly. I’ll go to the station in the morning and tell them what happened, but they’re not gonna find him tonight. We’re better off getting out of here.’ Potty desperately wanted to cry but knew that she had to take charge and keep it together. Her three girls were looking to her for protection and reassurance. She couldn’t let them down. She’d already come so far, she couldn’t allow this monster to rob her of all she had achieved.

Sandra Potts was going to stand her ground!

‘Come on, let’s get everybody home, we’ll grab a cab,’ said Michelle, leading them back through the maze of bodies. The fair was teeming with noisy crowds, surging and swelling, and the girls became afraid of being separated from Potty and Michelle, clinging ever tighter to their legs and arms, making it difficult to get anywhere. Potty felt as if she was moving through a film in slow-motion, her head swimming with images and sounds, but trying desperately to stay focused in the here and now and get her girls home safely. The sound of a bell ringing pierced her ears, and the thunderous rumble of the rides went right through her.

Where was Michael? she asked herself. The fucking useless pisshead! He should be here, minding them all, instead of down the pub with his mates. He was no good to anyone, no help to her or the kids.

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Even when the other guys had beaten up Steven Archer, he’d been deliberately left out because he was a complete liability, a useless drunk! Potty felt a stab of loneliness as she realised that she was the only one holding her family together. The man she had seen as her saviour and protector was in fact nothing of the kind. Women laughed at him; other men avoided him. He was the local joke. He spent every minute he was out of the house getting falling down drunk, ending up pissed and sick in some gutter. He was nothing but an embarrassment to her.

She would have screamed at her girls to stop crying but knew it would only make matters worse.

Desperately she tried to hold it all inside and not let her own tears of panic escape. They spilled out of the park gates and on to the road where she finally seemed able to breathe normally, but there were no cabs to be found.

She hid her mounting agitation and said to the children, ‘Come on, we’ll walk. It’s fine out here on the street.’

Michelle looked unsure, still peering into the sea of traffic for the orange light of a cab. They walked in fearful silence for a minute or two until Michelle said,

‘Here’s one,’ and stood out in the road to signal to the approaching cab, its orange light like a promise of rescue. She rushed up to the open window and Potty heard the cabbie say, ‘Sorry, love, I can’t take seven of you, it’s against the law.’ Michelle said something 353

else to him which Potty didn’t catch, then the back door swung open and Potty piled the girls inside.

Michelle was last to get in, saying, ‘Cheers, mate,’ as the taxi quickly pulled away from the kerb.

‘Just drop me off, Mich, I’ll be all right,’ said a still sweating Potty.

‘Not on your bloody nelly, mate. You’re staying with me tonight.’

‘Honestly, I just want to get back to the flat.’ Potty felt overwhelmed with tiredness, and tearful as she felt Lucy’s hand grip hers and squeeze it. They shared something more than a mother-daughter bond now.

They had both survived.

‘No way. You’re staying with us. We’ve got plenty of bedding. You can go on the couch in the front room, and the girls can all squash down together in their bedroom.’ Michelle’s two girls gave a little cheer at this.

‘Oh, please, Mum, can we?’ whined Jessica.

‘I think it’s a good idea, Mum.’ Lucy was sounding more and more like an adult every time she spoke.

Who was taking care of who here? wondered Potty.

‘I’ve got work in the morning,’ she protested feebly.

‘So? We’ll be awake at the crack of dawn with this lot anyway, you’ll have plenty of time,’ Michelle declared.

Potty surrendered then, too exhausted to argue and secretly grateful not to be alone with her girls in 354

the flat tonight. Michael rarely made it back before the middle of the night anyway. God knows where he got to after the pubs chucked him out, but she was too drained to care.

The cab came to a halt beside Michelle’s block of flats. The two women went to scrabble in their purses but the driver said, ‘You’re all right, girls, this one’s on me. Be safe.’

‘What did you tell him?’ Potty asked.

‘That you’d had a fright, that’s all. Nice bloke, eh?’

‘Yeah, really nice,’ said Potty, gazing after the cab as it moved off down the road.

‘There are some nice blokes out there, Potty, some really good men, you gotta believe that.’ Michelle fished her keys out of her bag and let them into the flat.

Potty loved this place. It had big rooms and high ceilings and was freshly painted throughout. Most of the furniture was second hand but Michelle kept it spotlessly tidy and clean. Potty immediately felt a sense of calm and order in here. Michelle was the only person she knew who had floor-to-ceiling curtains in the front room which she hung without nets. She was a bit different, Michelle; had a bit of style that was all her own.