Don't Turn Around (2 page)

T
he tin bucket
wobbled beneath his feet as Frank reached the ledge in his father’s shed. The smell of damp rotting wood made it unique, and the dimly lit hovel was his favourite place in the world. Reaching over to the muddied window, he gripped his small chubby hand over a fly and felt it angrily buzzing against his palm. It tickled. His face screwed in concentration, he opened his fingers enough to detach one wing, then two. Its remains scattered on the ledge, the protesting fly joined the other insects in various stages of dissection. Frank leaned over the body of a legless fly, cupping his ear to listen for the tiny buzzing sound. In the darkness of the shed, he was the ruler of life.

H
is mother had nicknamed
him ‘Casper’ due to his ability to sneak up on her without making a sound. He liked that game. It gave him a warm feeling inside. Mummy had just bought him some Casper comics for his sixth birthday that he would hide under his pillow and read when everyone was asleep. He shifted the numbness from his bottom as he sat on the stairwell. He had only come inside to use the toilet, but peeping down through the banisters at his parents below, he sat entranced as the drama unfolded before him. They were shouting because Mummy wanted to buy nice things and Daddy had to work too hard to pay for them.

The papers shook in his father’s hand as he waved them about. He had his coat on, which usually meant he was on his way out. Mother, or Viv, as she preferred to be called, stood next to some pink shopping bags with her hand clasped to her chest. Strands of dark brown hair fell loose from her bun, which was held together with a diamond-encrusted pin.

‘How can I be expected to pay all these bills when you are off shopping every day? It’s no use, you’ll have to return it all.’

Viv smiled, but it was a cold smile, through bared teeth and narrowed eyes.

‘You expect me to look like those tired old women across the street? With curlers in my hair and an apron around my waist? I’m telling you now, it’s not going to happen.’

‘Of course not, darling, but if things don’t improve soon, we may lose our home.’

‘Can’t you tap your mother up for some money?’ Viv’s hands rested on her hips, her long talons flashing red against her black dress.

‘Mother’s barely on speaking terms with me. How can I ask her for money?’

‘I don’t see why not. She can afford it.’

‘It’s not an option …’

Frank craned his neck forward as his father lowered his voice. He could barely hear him as he took Viv’s hands.

‘If I got promoted we would have a lot more money to play with …’

His mother snatched her hands away. ‘I know where this is going and the answer is no.’

‘I’m just saying. You know my boss has really taken a shine to you. He told me he’d do anything for a night in your company. I was shocked when he suggested it but as you say, you’re a charming woman. It’s not surprising men would fall at your feet.’

Viv softened at the compliment. ‘Please Charles, can’t you get promoted without my involvement?’

Charles shook his head. ‘Burke can’t choose between Jeffery and me. The only thing that would swing it in my favour is you. He told me as much.’

Viv folded her arms and sighed hard, looking down at her nice new patent shoes.

‘You’d be able to keep all these things and even buy that handbag you’ve always wanted,’ Charles coaxed.

‘Wouldn’t you be jealous? The thought of me … with another man.’

‘Of course I would, I don’t want another man touching you. But if it was just the once … and I mean, it’s not as if Burke is looking for a relationship, he’s a married man. I think I could live with it.’

Viv sighed. ‘I … I don’t know.’

Charles lay a hand on each of her shoulders, softening his voice. ‘For our family’s sake. Look at Frank, he’s growing so quick, he’ll need a new set of clothes soon.’

Viv’s face contorted into a sneer. ‘It’s a waste of money buying nice clothes for him. He only gets them covered in mud.’

‘I know, sweetheart. But it would get us out of a jam. And then we wouldn’t have to bring these back to the shops.’ Charles picked up the bags and raised them to get his point home. ‘But if it’s asking too much … maybe I should just these refunded.’ Charles walked towards the door and Viv grabbed him by the forearm.

‘No, wait. Leave the bags. Call Burke and tell him I’ll do it. It’ll have to be quick, before I change my mind. And tell him … tell him I want to be taken out for dinner first.’

Charles dropped the bags to the floor and embraced his wife in a bear hug, swaying from side to side as he lifted her off her feet. ‘Darling, you’ve just saved this family.’

Frank wondered what they were talking about. Saved the family? By going out for dinner? His mother passed him on the stairs as she brought her bags to her room, barely giving him a second glance.

T
he next night
was hot and sticky. Frank was unable to sleep, despite his father trying to coax him with some dark gloopy medicine he did not need. A car pulled up outside. He peeked through the net curtain onto the street below. Sounds of laughter filtered through the air as his mother stepped out of the car with a tall, broad man, bigger than his father and dressed very smartly. It had been a long time since he had seen his mother laugh. She looked so pretty in the tight-waisted dress with the ruffles underneath. His father’s footsteps creaked on the landing and Frank jumped into bed. Snoring softly, he pretended to be asleep as his father entered the room. He planted a kiss on Frank’s dark hair, which lay in contrast to the whiteness of the starched pillow underneath. Frank continued to snore as his father gently pulled the door behind him, leaving the faint smell of cigars lingering in the air. The muffled voices downstairs piqued Frank’s interest and he bided his time until he slowly turned the doorknob and crept onto the landing. The upstairs bulb was gone, so they would not see him. Frank smiled at his ingenuity. The dark was safer than the light. It harboured you, while all the light did was sting your eyes and leave you exposed.

A deep voice boomed from the downstairs hall. ‘Charles, Vivienne has been the most pleasant company this evening. I really am quite taken with her.’

‘Thank you, Mr Burke. I see you have had a drink, Vivienne.’

Viv giggled and ran her hand across Mr Burke’s arm. ‘So what if I did? I had a lovely time and I gather it’s not over yet. So if you’d like to make yourself scarce?’

Charles coughed. ‘Yes. Of course. If you’re quite sure …’

‘Yes, Charles, I am quite sure, now off you go. Frank, is he …’

‘Yes, fast asleep. I gave him the medicine. He’s out like a light.’

Frank grimaced. He had spat the foul mixture into a tissue when his father wasn’t looking. His mother was not as easy to fool.

Charles paused and Mr Burke leaned towards him, speaking in a low voice. Frank shuffled towards the stairwell to hear.

‘Don’t worry, Charles, I’ll take good care of her. And your promotion is secured. I will announce it in the morning.’

Charles shook Mr Burke’s hand and smiled. ‘Thank you,’ he said, shrugging on his coat as he went. Frank tiptoed back into his room. His mother ran upstairs, squealing with delight as Mr Burke slapped her on the backside.

‘Now get up there you, it’s time for some fun.’

Viv stopped at her bedroom door and Mr Burke pulled her to him, kissing her hard on the mouth. Frank scowled as he peeped through a crack in the door. His mother was acting very strange indeed. Mr Burke’s big hands were squeezing her all over, and as quick as a flash she pulled him into her bedroom and slammed the door behind her. Frank yawned as he went back to bed and dragged the covers over his shoulders. More giggling came from the room next door. They must have been playing the squeezing game again.

M
r Burke visited
his mother lots more times after that, sometimes bringing presents. She seemed much happier, while Charles grew more withdrawn. Frank knew that if he pretended to be asleep by eight o’clock he did not have to take the medicine. It was hard to sleep with the noise in the room next door and most nights he clasped a pillow over his ears to block it out. Then one evening Mr Burke brought over a friend and things became very loud indeed. His father came home and punched Mr Burke square in the face. Mr. Burke never came back.

T
he arguing
between his parents ended the night his father packed a case. The familiar sound of his father’s footsteps approaching his room made Frank pull the covers to his face and turn to the wall. Charles slouched on the edge of his bed and sighed. The bed seemed to sag from his weight, as if it carried his burden. ‘Son, are you awake?’

Frank sensed the anxiety in his voice. He sat up in bed and stared at his father’s haggard face. ‘Son, Daddy has to go away for a while.’

Frank stared unblinkingly.

Charles gave a forced smile. ‘Daddy’s got a new job in a place caused Australia. They have kangaroos there, you know.’

Frank gave a little gasp, the life flickering into his eyes. ‘When are we going, Daddy?’

Charles lowered his head and rubbed his face as if he wanted to wash something dirty away. ’Well … Daddy has to get a place set up first. Then I’m going to come back and get you.’

‘Is Mummy coming too?’

‘No, Mummy wants to stay here. Mummy has new friends.’

Frank heard a little catch in his father’s voice as he stared at the floor.

‘Be a good boy for Mummy and I’ll be back soon. Can you do that?’

Globules of tears filled Frank’s eyes and he blinked them away. The thought of being left alone with his mother fired a strike of terror into his heart. He felt it give a little flicker and he caught his breath. He must have done something bad to make his father leave him behind.

‘But I want to come too. Please Daddy, I’ll be good.’

‘I’m sorry son, you can’t. But I’ll come back for you. I promise.’ Charles wiped the tears from Frank’s freckled cheek with his thumb. ‘Frankie, listen to me. I know Mummy doesn’t always say so, but she loves you, really she does. And it’s not forever, as soon as I get us a nice place to stay I’ll come back for you. OK?’

Frank pulled the covers over his head and buried his face in his pillow to choke back the sobs. His father kissed his forehead and walked out. ‘Bye son, I’ll be back, I promise.’

Frank knew he was on his own.

C
harles’s footsteps
thudded slow and dull as he walked downstairs toward the front door. Frank rubbed his eyes and sat up in his bed, his teddies staring accusingly through button eyes from the shelf on the wall. His mother would not allow him to sleep with them, they were expensive and just for show. The teddies whispered, their lips unmoving in the darkness.
This is all your fault. It’s all your fault he is leaving
.

As if in a dream, Frank crept out to the crack of light coming through the door and listened. His father had long since given up telling Viv to ‘keep her voice down’ in case he heard.

‘Said goodbye to him, have you? Happy now?’ His mother shrilled, taking a gulp from the glass of wine in her hand.

‘You know I didn’t want any of this,’ Charles said, picking up his suitcase. ‘I’ll be back for him as soon as I get settled.’

‘You’re welcome to him. Just remember you owe me.’

‘How can you be so cruel? Frankie’s up there crying his eyes out.’

‘More fool him. And don’t turn this around on me. All I’ve ever done since we got married is try to please you. On and on you nagged me for a baby. I told you I wasn’t ready, but oh no, “It will be good for our marriage,” you said, and now look at you, abandoning him to travel halfway across the world.’

‘That’s not the reason I’m going and you know it. I told you I couldn’t bear you sleeping with other men. How could any husband be expected to put up with that and keep his dignity?’

Viv took another swig from the glass. ‘And whose idea was that? Oh yes, it was yours. You begged me, in fact. What was it you said when I gave in? Oh yes, “You’ve just saved the family.”’

‘I know what I said. I just didn’t expect you to enjoy it so much.’

‘Oh, so you would have preferred it if I were raped, then.’ Viv slurred, her voice growing louder.

‘Of course not. You’re twisting it all now.’

‘You don’t care about me, you never have. It’s your ego that’s bruised, that’s all. It’s not my fault you couldn’t satisfy me.’

Charles took a step forward, the fury evident in his features. The couple stood face to face as Charles spat out his words; ‘My mother said I couldn’t make a silk purse out of a sow’s ear.’

‘Get out of my house.’ The hurt was etched on Viv's face.

Charles turned to leave. ‘Just go easy on Frank, and try to show him a bit of affection. I know it doesn’t come naturally to you.’

Viv swigged back the contents of the glass and threw it at the wall, narrowly missing her husband’s head.

He looked back in disgust. ‘You’re pathetic, you know that?’

‘Just get out.’

Charles paused, looking at the top of the stairs.

‘I said get out!’ Viv screamed.

‘I’m sorry Frankie,’ Charles said, his voice resigned.

Viv pushed him out the front door and slammed it behind him, rattling its hinges. Leaning against the door, she slid to the floor and emitted a choking, gasping sound as she sat amongst the remnants of glass. Frank walked out of the shadows and tiptoed downstairs.

‘Mummy? Are you OK?’

Viv swallowed and wiped her nose with the back of her hand. Her mascara drew runny lines down her face as she snivelled in the dim light. ‘Get up to bed will you, I’m fine. And call me Viv like everyone else. It’s just you and me now.’

W
ill peered
at the ward map. ‘Now let me see … down the end of this corridor and turn left.’

Jennifer led the way as she strode down the antiseptic-infused corridor. She could not understand why people complained about the smell of hospitals. It was a damn sight better than the delightful aroma of a custody block. A grey-haired man wearing blue striped pyjamas gave her an appreciative smile as he shuffled towards her, wheeling his drip with one hand, and clutching a bent-up packet of cigarettes in the other. Jennifer flashed him a smile and he returned the gesture with a delighted wink.

‘Looks like you have an admirer there, he must have come from the psychiatric ward,’ Will whispered.

‘Charming. Let’s hope I can work my magic on Stone,’ she said, fingering the paperwork. ‘Here it is – Mike Stone, aged fifty-two, lives in those big houses up Fleetwood Avenue.’

‘Who says crime doesn’t pay?’ Will spoke with a hint of envy in his voice.

A hulk of a man, Mike Stone lay in bed next to the window on a shared ward, snoring loudly through his once broken nose. His hospital gown gaped open at his broad chest, revealing a scorpion tattoo peeping out from under a large blue bandage.

Jennifer bumped into the cradle holding the IV line.

’Should I wake him?’ she whispered. Will replied with a shrug, reluctant to disturb the sleeping giant. Tentatively, she touched his hairy arm, which jolted in defence. Mike wheezed a cough as he awoke, resting his eyes on Jennifer with the same appreciation as the elderly man in the hallway. His expression fell when she produced her warrant card.

‘I’m DC Knight, this is my colleague DC Dunston. Are you all right to talk?’

Mike winced as he tried to sit up. ‘Have you nicked the bastard that did this to me?’

Will glanced around the ward, aware that they had become the focus of attention. ‘I’ll just pull the curtains for privacy,’ he said, drawing the thin blue material around the bed.

Mike pointed to the water on the bedside locker and Jennifer handed it to him. He sucked greedily through the straw, which briefly stuck to his thick bottom lip as he released it from his mouth.

‘I can assure you Mr Stone, the suspect is in custody as we speak, I’m just waiting on your statement.’

‘I ain't giving you no statement. I can’t have it getting out that that little weasel almost done me in.’ Mike coughed and groaned at the sudden movement. He pressed the button in his palm for morphine and lay back as it took hold.

Will flipped his pocket notebook open and began to write. ‘Can you briefly tell us what happened? He’s not admitting to anything.’

‘He owed me some money … so I paid him a personal visit.’ Mike’s voice slurred as he settled back into the morphine-induced warmth. ‘I’m gonna … kill him.’

Jennifer and Will exchanged glances. She leaned over Mike, keeping her voice soft and low. ‘I’m not being funny, but you’re a big bloke. How did he overpower you?’

‘He was strong … saying all this weird stuff … He pinned me down.’ Mike pressed the morphine button again. ‘I’m gonna … kill the bastard.’

Will raised his eyebrows, not wanting any more grief that day. ‘Mr Stone, remember who you’re speaking to.’

Mike closed his eyes as the shot of morphine continued to spread through his veins. ‘Yeah, whatever.’

‘Mike, we’ll be in touch in a couple of days about a statement when you’re up to it.’ Jennifer rested her card on the bedside table and pulled back the curtains. Mike’s breathing slowed as he fell asleep, his hand clasped over his bandage. Something gnawed at the back of her brain. She pulled the car keys from her bag and handed them to Will. ‘Here, can you drive? I need to think.’

Will nodded as they left the ward. ‘My pleasure. High as a kite wasn’t he? Pity we couldn’t have got some intel from him.’

‘There’s only one thing I want to know. How the hell did Johnny manage to stab Mike Stone and get out in one piece?’

‘You’d be surprised what people can do with a sharp knife and the right opportunity. I don’t suppose Mike thought Johnny would have the balls to go for him like that.’

S
ergeant Stephanie Cox
cornered Jennifer back at the station, her face patterned in red blotches. Stiff peaks of plum-coloured hair stood to attention on her head, refusing to comply with the damp patches of gel. ‘You missed briefing this morning. When are you going to get your act together?’ She perched her plump bottom against Jennifer’s desk and folded her arms.

Jennifer bit her lip as Will sniggered behind her. ‘Sorry Sarge. It won’t happen again.’

‘It better not. Now get down to custody and have a word with your prisoner. I don’t know what you said to him this morning, but he’s going mental. Can you hear that?’

The shouts of disgruntled prisoners often echoed down the hall from the custody block to their office. Today they had one shoplifter, an alleged rapist, a juvenile drug user, and Johnny, who was making more noise than the rest of them put together. It was a small nick, with just fifteen cells, and one noisy prisoner was enough to disturb the whole building.

Jennifer took the opportunity to stop at the vending machine outside custody and bought two bags of Maltesers; one for her and one for Will. If she had a rough shift she might even pay it a second visit. Jennifer shoved the bags of chocolate into her jacket pockets before making her way through the heavy metal door.

A
shift change
offered a new custody sergeant, who gratefully waved her through to attend cell nine. Jennifer did not like speaking to prisoners alone as it left her vulnerable to complaints, but the recent installation of CCTV helped protect her from any false allegations.

Johnny’s voice echoed down the corridor and a husky voice bellowed from the cell next door. ‘Will someone shut him up, I’m trying to get some kip here.’

‘Get out, get out!’ Johnny screamed, banging on the heavy metal door of his six by eight feet cell. Tiny cubes of light from the reinforced window highlighted the smooth concrete floor.

Jennifer flipped down the small square hatch in the door, pausing to stand to one side. She wasn’t in the mood for having her new black suit paint-balled in green phlegm. A scuffling noise in the far corner signalled that she was safe. She peered into the cell, crinkling her nose at the odious smell.

Johnny paced, his jagged whispers coming intermittently. ‘No, leave me.’ He scratched at his head and began to pull his greasy hair. ‘I want you out …’

‘Are you all right?’ Jennifer said.

Johnny sank to his knees, still clutching his head, ‘No, please, it hurts.’

‘What’s wrong? Do you need a doctor?’

He froze and his eyes darted towards Jennifer. A menacing grin spread across his face and his voice changed into the same distinctive prose as before. ‘You should have let me talk to you today. I may have spared him. Never mind, we’ll meet again.’ He licked his lips, then crawled towards the cell door and disappeared from view.

Jennifer paused, wondering if she should call for a medic. The room fell silent and she leaned towards the cell door to listen. The open hatch rattled as Johnny’s face slammed against it, making her jump backwards.

‘Please, you’ve got to help me,’ he whimpered, spittle flying.

Jennifer raised a hand to her nose to avoid the putrid smell. ‘Just calm down, we’ll get you help.’ She waved towards the CCTV, reluctant to leave her prisoner. Asshole or not, if anything happened to him under her care, questions would be asked.

Johnny’s black fingernails clawed into his neck. Tiny rivulets of blood seeped through his skin and his bloodshot eyes bulged in a frenzy. ‘Get out, I want you out.’

The broad shadow of the custody sergeant was a welcome sight as he walked down the corridor towards her, flanked by two uniformed officers. One, who looked about sixteen, was holding a blue padded ‘suicide suit’ and the larger, more rotund officer had limb restraints and cuffs at the ready.

‘We’ll have to restrain him until the doctor gets here. You go Jennifer, we’ll take over now.’

Johnny continued to gouge his neck. ‘Best get your gloves on, lads,’ the custody sergeant said, pulling on the rubber PVC with a satisfying ping.

Jennifer clamped a hand over her mouth as she walked away, fighting the rising tide of emotions threatening to spill over. She inhaled some deep cleansing breaths as she pulled the door open to the outside yard. Dealing with human misery was part of her job, and she had learned to cope with it over the years. But this was different. The sinister voice, Johnny’s evident pain; something had gotten its teeth into him and wasn’t about to let go. The screaming sirens of an ambulance grew louder as it sped through the rear security barrier. Jennifer followed them inside, the hairs on the back of her neck prickling upwards as Johnny’s strangled cries filled the air.