Nowhere Child (8 page)

I’m safe for a few more minutes, but I need to find courage from somewhere. I need to do this – for Andy, if not for me. He believed that Emma meant every word of it; that she really does want me back. I find it harder to trust her – but I want to know. I need her to forgive me for what I did, because I’m not sure I will ever forgive myself.

12

‘Come on, Ollie, eat your lunch,’ Emma said as she put the spoon back in his hand for the third time. He was usually the easiest child to feed and loved whatever she put in front of him, but today he was playing up.

Emma felt unsettled today too. It was just one of those days when she felt twitchy but didn’t know why. Her conversation with Tom the other night had unnerved her, and for the first time since everything happened she was beginning to think she would have to move house. Stuck out here in the middle of nowhere, she never saw anybody, and it wasn’t healthy for Ollie either. She needed to be somewhere with people around her. She had only stayed here because of Tasha, in the hope that her stepdaughter would come home. This was the only place she knew to find her way back to, but even though Emma had now seen and spoken briefly to Tasha, the girl seemed further away than ever.

Emma sighed. When Tasha had called Emma had hoped that maybe she had finally started to get through to the girl, and perhaps after all this time Tasha had realised that Emma really did love her. Maybe she should give it until March. Then it would be a year since David had died and Tasha had left. She couldn’t help thinking too that it would be a year since Jack had reappeared, fleetingly, in her life. Too many things had happened in such a short space of time, but after a year with no change, perhaps that would be the right time to move on.

Her reverie was interrupted by the sound of the doorbell, and Emma jumped.

For God’s sake, calm down
. What was the matter with her – she was jumping at her own shadow this morning.

She pushed her chair back from the table. ‘Eat your lunch, Ollie. We’re going out later, don’t forget. I’ll be back in a minute.’

She left the kitchen door ajar so she could hear Ollie and made her way down the hall. Nobody ever came here unannounced, and she had no idea who it could be. She had meant
to have a peep hole installed but had never got round to it, so she put the chain on – knowing that if somebody wanted to kick it in at that point there would be little resistance – and opened the door a crack.

A man and a woman were standing there.

‘Good afternoon. It’s Mrs Joseph, isn’t it? Do you have a moment?’

Emma realised that she must look slightly deranged peering through the crack in the door, and these people looked harmless enough. The woman was wearing what Emma would describe as a sensible navy-blue skirt, just below the knee, and a blazer in a rather startling fuchsia colour. The man wore a sober-looking suit, and she couldn’t think what on earth they could want with her. She pushed the door to and released the chain before opening it fully.

‘What can I do for you?’ she asked.

‘No, Mrs Joseph, I think it’s more a case of what we can do for you.’ He reached a hand into his briefcase and pulled out a slim magazine, passing it across to Emma.

Just then Emma heard a shout from the kitchen. Ollie was obviously getting bored. She had promised him that as soon as he had finished his lunch, they would go and search for Tasha again. She had worked hard at trying to keep his sister alive for Ollie, and he seemed to respond well. He was clearly ready to go, because he was shouting her name. ‘Tasha, Tasha.’

Emma looked down at the magazine the man was handing to her.
The Watch Tower
.

‘I’m so sorry,’ she said. ‘My little boy is shouting, and I’m afraid I’m not interested.’

The man looked as if he were about to say something else – no doubt they were used to this response and he had his next line ready. But Emma didn’t give him chance. With an apologetic smile, she pushed the door closed. It felt rude, but she needed to get back to Ollie.

‘Okay, Ollie. I’m coming, sweetheart.’

She walked back along the corridor to where the door was ajar.

Ollie was right where she had left him, but now a hooded figure stood behind him, two black-clad arms wound around his neck.

13

Ollie
. He’s even cuter than I remember, and as I push the back door open and look at him, he turns towards me and beams, recognising me even with my hood obscuring most of my face. He always did seem to love me, even though I didn’t deserve it, and I owe this baby so much. He nearly died because of me.

‘Tasha, Tasha,’ he shouts, and I run across the kitchen and wrap my filthy arms around his little body, my back to the door in the hall.

I hear a gasp behind me.

‘Get off my baby. Get your filthy hands off my baby.’

I feel the rush of air as Emma lunges for me, dragging me away from Ollie.

Ollie starts to scream, and I fall to the floor, face down. I shouldn’t have come. I knew Andy was wrong. She just wants me dead.

I hear her footsteps as she races to the kitchen drawer and I guess she’s gone for a knife – just like the last time I found myself here, in her kitchen. I don’t bother to get up. I just lie, face down, my heart ready to break in two. This was my last chance – my only chance now that Andy has gone. And we were so wrong.

‘Get on your feet,’ Emma says. ‘Get up and go and stand by that wall at the end of the kitchen, your hands behind your back. I’ve got a knife, and I’ll use it if you try anything.’

Ollie is still screaming, and it’s hard to make out what Emma is saying – but I get the idea, and I do as she says, keeping my back to her. I don’t want her to see the tears streaming down my face – to see how she is killing me. I lift my hands to try to wipe them.

‘Keep your hands behind your back,’ she shouts.

I reach the wall and stand facing it. I hear her drag a chair – the one with the screaming Ollie on it, no doubt – across the floor to where she thinks he’s safe.

‘Turn round very slowly, and no clever moves with your hands. Do you hear me?’

Oh, I hear her. I hear the fear and hatred in her voice, and I can’t bear to turn round, to show her how much she’s hurt me. All that pretence for all these months, saying how much she misses me and wants me back – it was just because she wants me to suffer.

I don’t think I care any more. They can send me to prison or to a special remand place, or whatever they do with kids like me. I just don’t care. My mum died, Izzy died and now Andy’s dead. I’m best out of it.

I sniff loudly and try to raise my shoulder high enough to wipe my tears, but I can’t do it. My hood falls back, and I feel exposed. I take a deep breath, and feel the shudders run through my body. Slowly, head down, I turn – too ashamed to let her see my face.

For a moment, there’s silence. She’s saying nothing – just standing there. I keep my eyes to the ground. I don’t want to see the disgust on her face.

Then she whispers, her voice no more than a breath with a question mark. ‘Tasha?’

She didn’t know. She didn’t know it was me. She hadn’t seen my face, only my back. I lift my head slowly, tears dripping from my chin, and I look at her. She runs towards me, the knife in her hand. I stand still, not knowing or caring what’s about to happen. I just stare into her eyes.

‘Tasha!’ she screams, dropping the knife and flinging her arms around my shoulders, pulling me to her and holding me so tightly I can hardly breathe. ‘Tasha,’ she repeats, more quietly now. ‘Oh, thank God.’

Nobody has hugged me like this since the time I was very small and my mum thought she had lost me in Kendals in Manchester. When she found me, I started to cry and she thought it was because I was scared. I wasn’t. She was hurting me.

But now I like the hurt. I’ve been standing with my arms behind my back, but slowly I bring them round to the front, not sure if it’s okay for me to hug Emma back, but I don’t think she’ll mind. I put my arms round her back, loosely to start with, but as she hugs me so fiercely and cries onto the top of my shorn head, I feel the dam inside me explode as the years of pent-up terror and unhappiness gush through the gaping hole in the walls that have held me together for so long. I start to sob.

I cling on to Emma for dear life. I want to stay here, wrapped in her arms forever.

I don’t know how long we stay like that, but gradually the mood changes. Emma’s delight moves to one of deep concern as she realises the depths of my pain, and her hugs become gentler as she stokes my hair and whispers words of comfort against my ear.

‘Shh, darling, you’re safe now,’ she says. And for just a moment I believe her.

*

I know Emma has contacted the policeman – Tom. I heard her speaking to him on the phone after we had all calmed down and my crying had stopped. I don’t know how long I cried for, but Emma says it was nearly an hour. And she held me the whole time, dragging Ollie towards us so he could join in.

When she told me she had spoken to Tom, she saw the fear in my eyes and she understood.

‘Tasha, you are not in trouble with the police. I promise you. They’ve been looking for you, but only because they were worried about you and they want your help. Tom will explain.’

I start to cry again. If she was right, two of my reasons for running away no longer counted. Emma didn’t hate me, and the police weren’t going to arrest me.

We haven’t really talked. She’s just said that now I’m back, I’m home for good – no arguing. I haven’t asked what my dad will think of that, and I don’t really want to see him. I’m not sure how that’s going to work. I want to be with Emma, but I don’t think I can stay with him. She hasn’t phoned him yet – she only called Tom, so I think she must know I don’t want to see him. I don’t want anything to change the feeling that’s in the room right now. It feels like love to me.

Emma pulls up a chair next to me and grabs my hands.

‘Tasha, you need to understand that although I’m not your mum and I know I will never replace her – I wouldn’t even try – I do love you and you’re part of this family with me and Ollie. Okay? Don’t ever, ever, run away from us again. Do you understand?’

I look at her for a moment, and slowly nod my head. But I don’t understand. Not really.

It’s as if a light has suddenly been switched on because her eyes open wide.

‘I’m so sorry Tasha,’ she says, taking her bottom lip between her teeth. One hand slides up my arms and she cups the back of my neck. In an instant I know what she’s going to say, and when she speaks the words they’re not a shock.

‘Your dad died a couple of days after you disappeared.’ Her arm moves round my shoulder and she pulls me a little closer.

I don’t know what to feel. I remember loving my dad when I was little, but he did a terrible thing – he betrayed me and Mum. I didn’t come back for him, but it suddenly hits me that I’ve got nobody now. Nobody that I really belong to.

I look at Ollie, so cute, so chubby, and now fatherless. I don’t know how he died and I want to ask Emma, but I have no doubt that it was because of me and I don’t want to hear her say the words.

‘I’m sorry, Emma,’ I say, my voice catching again.

‘Sweetheart, none of this is your fault. You have to believe me. You were a victim, okay? And just because your dad’s not here it makes no difference to you, me and Ollie. We’re a family. I’m going to keep saying that until you believe me. I’ll tell you everything, but first we need to get you used to being around here and starting to feel settled. And I want to know about you, too – where you’ve been, how you’ve been living.’

She thinks she wants to know, but I’m not going to tell her how it really was. She wouldn’t like it, and it would only make her cry.

I’m saved from having to make up a rosy version of my life by the doorbell ringing.

‘I hope that’s Tom and not those bloody Jehovah’s Witnesses again,’ she says. ‘Mind you, they would probably claim that God brought you back here.’

‘It was the number 87 bus,’ I say with an attempt at humour. Emma smiles as she makes her way to the door.

I can tell by her voice that it’s Tom. She sounds excited, and I am beginning to believe that she is genuinely thrilled to have me back. She told me it was okay for her to contact Tom – that he wasn’t going to arrest me. But I’m not so sure.

The door to the kitchen is pushed open, and I stare warily at this big man. At a shout of ‘Ay’ from Ollie – a habit he has clearly not got out of – Tom briefly turns his attention to the little guy and ruffles his hair, then turns to me with a smile.

‘Hi, Tasha,’ he says, his voice gentle. ‘It’s good to see you.’

I think that’s a good sign, but something tells me this is just the sweetener, and any time soon there’s going to be a blow that will hit me twice as hard, because now Emma has softened me up.

14

Tasha looked appalling. Tom had thought she had looked bad enough after a few years living with Rory and Donna Slater, but that was nothing to what he saw in front of him now. She had always been small and slight for her age, but after eight months of living rough she was practically skeletal, and he doubted if she weighed 6 stone – the equivalent of two reasonably heavy suitcases. Her cropped hair made her head look tiny, and the dark tone drained any colour she had in her face, except for her nose, which was red from crying.

But she was alive – and Emma was clearly overjoyed.

He had been half longing for the moment for Emma’s sake and half dreading it – because he knew it wasn’t going to be as simple as Emma thought. He had tried to tell her this a hundred times, but she wouldn’t have any of it.

‘There are a few things we need to talk about,’ he said as they all sat down around the table. Emma didn’t wait for him to start.

‘I know what you’re going to say, Tom, and I’ve been thinking about it. We’ll go away for a little holiday – that will solve all the problems. By the time we’re back, it will all be over.’

Tasha was looking from one to the other, a slightly wary look on her tear-streaked face at the thought that there were problems.