Authors: Jenny Tomlin
way that she might be reminded of her attacker but she wasn’t and he made no eye contact with her, it was as if she wasn’t even there. He just kept walking by with that carrier bag full of tins weighing his arm down. He must live on Spam and tinned soup.’
The beginning of the summer holidays brought with it a new wave of fear. To them the summer holidays were a pervert’s paradise. The children, however, especially the older ones, didn’t need to be told twice to be careful and always stayed in groups, fiercely protective of their younger brothers and sisters.
Parents complained vociferously that their children’s childhood was being stolen from them as a culture of fear and suspicion held the neighbourhood in its grip.
The air remained thick, the sky cloudless and the sun tortured all those who stayed out too long.
Hospitals were kept busy treating cases of dehydra -
tion in young and old alike, and the local papers suggested that the most vulnerable should stay in with their curtains drawn and windows and doors open, and should keep drinking water. Not one electric fan could be found for sale in the whole community, and every DIY store had sold out of watering cans, hosepipes and even buckets.
Mothers watched like hawks as children played on swings, and complained that they couldn’t get on with their housework because they were having to play minder all day and night. It was the summer of 259
the clacker and the sound of those two hard plastic balls banging against each other was driving the women to distraction: ‘Take those bloody things outside!’ was their constant cry, only to realise then that that meant they’d have to go too. There was also a Space Hopper frenzy and lots of kids ended up in Casualty with cut knees and bangs on heads.
It was as hot as hell. Each day the newspapers had more pictures of scorched and cracked earth as crops failed and the country struggled in the grip of drought. People were pictured queuing for water with any receptacle they could find, and the papers didn’t miss a chance to report another heat-related death.
Scaremonger tactics were used to frighten the public into keeping their rubbish tied up and bagged properly. A report in the paper had told the story of a baby bitten by a rat. They had said it was an outbreak of bubonic plague, but it turned out to be a boy who’d been bitten by his pet gerbil! Many kids had taken to playing on the streets, no further than a few steps from their front door, squirting each other with water from old washing-up liquid containers to try and stay cool. Tempers were frayed as children were constantly told off for being out of their mother’s sight for more than a minute or two. Many of them were wishing the holidays away so that they could get their kids back safely inside the school gates, the strain of having to stay on top of them all day proving too much.
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And then there were the latch-key kids to keep an eye on too. As if the stay-at-home mums didn’t have enough on their plates, they had the added respon -
sibility of looking out for the kids of parents who had to work. It went without saying that they would be watched by friends and neighbours, but everyone was all too aware that the attacker lived in their community and some parents were left not knowing who to trust any more. Jobs were put on the line as mums asked to take time off to be with their families and protect them, which didn’t please local employers. With uncertainty over jobs, families were struggling to put food on the table each night. Single parents suffered the most, and the whole area was in turmoil.
To help keep the children closest to him off the streets, in the first week of August John had bought an extra-large paddling pool and installed it in their garden where it took up most of the lawn. Despite the hosepipe ban, they filled it up under cover of dark -
ness, an operation that due to the size of the thing took several hours. Grace and John’s home, being bigger than everybody else’s, proved an ideal place to while away a few hours with the kids. Grace filled the freezer up with ice pops and choc ices, now in great demand at the local supermarket, and got ready for a long summer.
Lucy Potts had taken to coming over with her little 261
sisters while Potty was working, and would spend her evenings with Maria Foster, who had recently come out of hospital. Even though Maria was doing well and getting her strength back, Mary was refusing to let her leave the house, despite Lizzie’s urging her to get things back to normal as soon as possible. Aside from Grace’s, Maria wasn’t allowed to go anywhere.
Lucy and Maria had formed an unshakable bond that summer because of their shared experience at the hands of the attacker. ‘I don’t know what those girls talk about but they’re in that bedroom for hours,’
Mary complained, though she was secretly glad that Maria had made such a good friend. A mother’s love would get you so far, but Mary knew that it could only be the companionship of a great mate that would do the rest.
In the privacy of the bedroom Lucy and Maria spoke little of their respective ordeals, but Maria taught Lucy about music and Lucy concentrated on teaching Maria basic judo moves.
Sue Williams was also grateful to have somewhere to take her children during the long hot days that summer. In previous years she had helped to run summer play schemes, working as a supervisor. It was a handy way to amuse the kids and earn a few bob at the same time. But this year she didn’t feel up to it, understandably, and had drawn closer to Grace in the wake of what she’d learned about her past. She 262
had always thought Grace a bit snotty and aloof, but now she saw her in a different light. It was funny how people’s attitudes could change. The jealousy she had har boured against Grace for so long was diminish ing.
She had been spending time with Sue, encouraging her weight loss and helping her with her hair and appearance. In fact, Grace loved having a house full of people and didn’t mind the mess and chaos one little bit. A quick whizz round with the Hoover each night was a small price to pay for the companionship of the other women and children. They talked about fashion, make-up and hair and Grace was in her element.
These idle chats helped to get them through the more difficult conversations about their kids and George Rush. Adam blossomed under the attention of all those bossy little girls – Sue’s two and Potty’s two – and loved having his cousins Jamie and Benny over every day. A month after the attack, his physical wounds had nearly healed and he was becoming much more adventurous again. He had taken to climbing the garden fence, getting a foothold in the panelling and jumping from it into the paddling pool, to make a huge splash.
Lizzie Foster and Nanny Parks would come over to give the younger women a break so that they could go off and get some shopping done or accomplish all those other chores that become such hard work with the kids under your feet all day. The women were 263
coping, and coping well. Following the tragic circum -
stances that had changed their lives for ever, they were tougher, smarter, bonded.
Lizzie had become their chief investigator, hanging around the local shops and market stalls in the hope of catching sight of George, and when she did she would follow him. Now that school was finished for the summer his movements had changed and the only place she knew for sure she’d find him was in the betting office where he went most days. She followed him a couple of times from there to his maisonette, but there was nothing very suspicious to report there apart from the fact that he never used his front door, only the side gate from the alley and then in through the back. He was always weighed down with two stripy blue and white carrier bags full of tins.
Following him back from the shops a few days earlier she had nearly been caught. Lizzie was walking briskly to catch up with his long strides, when suddenly George stopped. She just managed to get behind a huge delivery van in time before he saw her. She stood shielded from view by one of its open doors and her heart quickened; she would have to be more careful in future.
Sue Williams’s place was only half a street away from George’s. While she was there Lizzie would crane her neck over the fence to get a peek into his back garden, but the view was interrupted by lines of washing and panelled fences so that she could see 264
only the shed in the bottom corner. She wondered if George could see into Sue’s garden from his upstairs windows, and if he had spied Wayne from there.
Lizzie was more reckless than the others, figuring that, as an old woman, her life was nearly over so what did it matter if she went to prison? She was not naturally a fearful person, and unlike the others did not jump out of her skin whenever she clapped eyes on George Rush. He was a paedophile, a murderer, a monster, but she wasn’t going to be frightened off by a look or a glance from him. She had survived a brutal marriage. It would take a bit more than the likes of George Rush to force her to retreat.
Seeing him just made her angry; it was her temper she was having trouble controlling, not her fear. It was all she could do not to go up and drive a knife through the bastard, to laugh and enjoy the feeling as she did it, but she had promised the others that she wouldn’t do anything hasty; they were going to plan this one properly. No going off half-cock like they had with Steven Archer.
Lizzie felt sure that once the beating was adminis -
tered it would alert the police into investigating George Rush more closely. Everyone knew he was a bit odd; that he had been living on his own for years after his wife and mother-in-law suddenly left. Most people felt sorry for him, but once the police investigated him properly he would get everything he deserved. Lizzie saw this revenge as twofold. The 265
angry and grieving parents and relatives would have their day, and then the police could step in and make sure Rush spent the rest of his sorry life behind bars with the other pieces of human scum who preyed on innocent kids.
Reporting back to Grace and the others, Lizzie was a study in frustration. ‘There’s no pattern, from what I can work out. Now he doesn’t have to go to work, he spends all day in that bloody maisonette. He only leaves the house to put a bet on or to go to the local shop for tinned crap! He still wears a jacket every day, even in this heat. He must be sweating like a pig, the dirty bastard.’ Lizzie fanned herself with a folded copy of the newspaper and blew the smoke from her cigarette upwards; she knew how fussy Grace was about smoking near the kids. ‘I mean, what does he
do
all day? He does go to crib, though, and he likes a drink . . .’
‘Well, we can’t do anything in the daytime anyway, there’s too many people around,’ said Grace.
‘Not at his place there aren’t.’ Lizzie had been arguing for a while that the best way to deal with George was to pay him a visit at home, but the others thought this would be too risky. Those maisonettes had walls like tissue paper; the neighbours would see and hear everything. In any case, if they did get caught they would be breaking and entering too, and 266
after one narrow escape already – thanks to Eileen Archer not wanting to press charges – it was definitely too risky.
‘Well, your only other chance is crib night on a Monday. He always goes to crib.’
‘John reckons that’s our best bet too. Wait till George leaves the pub. It’ll be dark by then and he has to go down Gossett Road to get to his place. It’s pretty deserted along there at night, with only the garages. No one hangs around those garages at night.’
‘My Wayne and his mates used to,’ Sue put in quietly.
‘Oh, Sue, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean . . .’ Grace’s face flooded with colour. It was so hard not to say the wrong thing round Sue. Even an innocent remark could come out wrong.
‘No, you’re all right, love. I’m just saying, it’s usually only kids up to no good round there, but I’d be surprised if any of them were allowed out at the moment.’ Sue spoke calmly but had a haunted look about her. She had continued to lose weight and, strangely, looked better and more youthful with her new figure, but the old fire in her belly and her habitual cockiness had evaporated. ‘TJ, come here and let me wipe your nose.’ She pulled on his arm, drew him towards her and tidied up his face with a tissue. He struggled free to run back into the garden and Sue’s gaze followed him. ‘He’s always got a 267
runny nose, that kid, even in the summer. It’s his lack of immunity. Kids like him can’t fight off the bugs like normal ones.’
‘How often does he see the specialist, Sue?’ asked Nanny Parks, moving the subject on.
‘Every six months. He’s got his three-year check-up the week after next, actually.’
‘He’s a happy little soul,’ said Nanny Parks, smiling.
‘Well, he’s in a world of his own, isn’t he?’ said Sue. ‘And I’m glad he is. Sometimes being special gives you protection against the world and the evil in it. I know how Eileen must feel now.’ She bowed her head in deep shame as she said that. She knew she had been the main instigator of Steven’s beating, and bitterly regretted it now.
‘Has TJ said anything about Wayne?’ Grace didn’t really like to ask, but she was curious.
‘No, love, not much. He only asked if he could sleep in his bed. Terry tried to explain it to him, that Wayne was with the angels, but course he doesn’t understand. Not like the girls. They’re all right in the day, but they still cry at night.’ Sue paused then added, ‘We all do.’ The kitchen fell quiet for a moment as the others pondered the irreversible sad -
ness of her life. Finally Lizzie steered the conversation back to matters in hand.
‘So when does your John plan on doing this then, Grace?’
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‘Anytime now really. Paul Foster’s ready to go.’
‘And my Terry’s ready to kill,’ added Sue. ‘What about Robbo?’
‘I’m not sure what’s planned. John is handling that side of things. I think it’s best if we keep it small, don’t you? The more people who know about it, the more likely it is that something’s gonna get out.’
Despite her determination to act, Grace was fearful of John being caught. She couldn’t stand it if he had to go away.
‘I don’t think anyone round here would grass them up. More likely give them a pat on the back and buy them a pint,’ said Nanny Parks, washing up the cups at the sink.