Ghosts in the Morning (10 page)

The voice slammed into my head, harsh, grating, the peaceful moment was gone in an instant.
‘Well, looky here, what’s this? Skinny Andrea’s got herself a little hideaway
. Very nice, very nice, indeed.
’ Darren was standing at the doorway to the shed. ‘Oh, and
what’s this? It looks like she’s
got herself a little bottle of vodka
too
.
’

I squinted my eyes to focus, as a
nxiety flared briefly
. Darren appeared to be alone. He was a bully but like
most
bullies
,
he was
far
worse when he had back-up. This usually came in the form of Kevin and Jonnie, two scrawny, pimply kids who thought they were tough when they were with Darren.

Darren had been at the home for a month. He was a
n
ugly
kid
, fifteen years old
,
with sunken eyes, and thin lips. He was lean, but strong,
wiry
and
he always
wore cap-sleeve T-shirts to show off the muscles in his arms.
Elizabeth said that she’d heard that he’d been fostered out several
times in the
past, but
it had never lasted. She said she’d heard that, on every occasion, it had been cut short,
the foster parents hadn’t wanted to keep him.

‘So
, skinny Andrea, are
you gonna share that drink with us?’

I sighed, trying to shake my head clear.
I wanted to tell Darren to piss of, leave me alone.
Then my heart started to beat faster. ‘
Us
’.

Suddenly
Kevin and Jonnie stepped into the doorway.
The
prickle of fear
that had been niggling at the back of my mind
pushed
its way
through the alcohol numbness and
crawled down my ba
ck.

‘Oh, yes, very
nice,
yes, I
like a nice bit of vodka, I do
,’
Kevin
smirked.
There was a ripe spot on his
chin;
custardy white with a glowing red halo surrounding it,
it looked like it was
on the verge of bursting
.

‘
Well, skinny Andrea, i
t’s very nice of you to invite us to share your drink,’ Darren said, and squeezed down next to me. I could feel his hip bone jutting into mine. He grabbed the bottle of vodka and took a large swig. ‘Very nice indeed.’

He passed the bottle to Kevin and
then
Jonnie who took it in turns to take large pulls from the bottle.
Jonnie
coughed and spat. ‘Fuck’s sake,
Jonnie
, don’t be a wuss,’
Kevin
laughed. Darren took another sip and then stared right at me. ‘Very cosy
in
here, isn’t it,’ he said in a low voice. ‘Very
nice and
cosy
and private
indeed.’

My heart was pounding
hard
now. ‘Er, I’ve got to go, I, um, we um, aren’t supposed to be in here, we’ll get in trouble, I’ve got to – ’

‘Sshhh, ssshhh,’ Darren said, putting a grimy finger across my lips. ‘Don’t worry,
Jonnie
will
keep a look out
for us, make sure no-one bothers us
. Won’t you,
Jonnie
?’

Jonnie
looked disappointed, his shoulders sank. ‘I s’pose. But save some
vodka
for me, yeah.’
He shuffled through the doorway of the shed, and I tried to get up, to follow him out, I didn’t want to be in that shed any more.

A firm hand grabbed my shoulder
and pulled me back.
‘Now,
now,
skinny
Andrea
,
where are you off to? I mean, we’ve had a little drink together,
I think
it’s time that we got a little
better acquainted,’ Darren
said
. His hand remained on my shoulder but now his other hand snaked across my body and
grabbed
hold of
my breast.

I was properly scared now
. ‘Don’t,’ I said, as firmly as I could, but my voice felt thick
, the vodka had thickened my tongue.
‘Don’t. I have to go
!
’ I
pushed his hands away roughly, catching h
i
m by surprise, and jumped to my feet.

A blur, like lightning in my periphery, and
Darren’s arm
had shot out
and clutched my wrist. I could see his bicep
s
tensed
and swollen
,
I
could feel his wiry strength. ‘Now, now, skinny
Andrea
, not so fast. I mean, you can’t invite us
in
for a drink, and then just leave.
I mean, that
’s
not very nice, not very friendly is it? I mean, especially not when we’re just getting romantic
.’

I tugged against his arm, but he was too strong.
Tears sprung
to
my eyes, and the world around me began to blur
and spin
.

I felt my legs pulled away from me,
felt
my head bang on the floor of the shed.
I breathed th
e musty smell of wood,
could taste o
ld varnish,
acrid, sour. My
wrists
were gripped tight and
held above my head and
there was
an arm across my neck. Words drifted to my ears – ‘
give us a hand here,
Kevin
, hold her arms there
’ - then a rag, dirty, oily, greasy, was thrust into my mouth
. There was a rough
tug at my jeans,
denim scraped my thighs,
then
a tearing sound
as my panties were pulled down violently
.
Through the haze, I had
tried to wrestle
my arms but they were trapped hard, I
had fought
to kick my legs, but the weight upon them was too much
,
the feeling of paralysis. T
hen the blur of time
slowed, an
d everything be
gan to freeze.
I closed my eyes,
I didn’t want to see anymore, but I couldn’t shut out the slow
-motion
pictures. T
hrough my closed eyelids I could see Darren’s leering face with its jutted cheekbones
and
then
I felt a sharp stabbing pain
on my leg
,
then
I heard Darren say ‘
shit, the
bitch’s hole ain’t easy to find
’, and
then an excruciating pain of friction, like a burning inside me, and the friction
began to
scrape
, slow at first, then faster, searing into me, and
soon after I felt a hot wetness on my thigh. The grip on my wrists relaxed briefly, then a shuffling noise, and now it was Kevin’s turn,
but I was numb and
this time the stabbing was brief, this time the hot wetness was
let go
inside
of
me. ‘
Hey, Jonnie, your turn
,’, and then ‘
Jonnie, you really are a wuss, either that or you’re gay
,’ then my arms were finally let go, and the rag was pulled from my mouth.

I didn’t open my eyes as the voice bit into me.
‘Now, the way I see it, skinny
Andrea
, is that you were up for it
.
I mean, sharing vodka like that, giving us the come-on, what do you expect?
You wanted it,
yeah? Listen,
you tell anyone, well – it’s your word against the three of us.
I don’t reckon old Phillips
will
believe anything you say.’

Mr.
Phillips was the new head of the care home. Retired from the army, he had little time for the girls, saw them as a nuisance.

‘Come on boys, I fancy a game of pool,’ Darren said. Matter-of-fact, like nothing had happened.

I pulled my jeans up. Once again I could hear the rustle of the breeze on the leaves as I sobbed silently.

***

‘Yeah, I can get it done for you today if you like. Cost a few quid, mind, I’d have to put two of the boys on it.
And
you’ll pay cash, yeah?
’

‘
Yes
, cash
. I told you that already.
’

‘
Alright, missus, keep your hair on, just checking. You d
on’t need a loan car, do you?
Well, I hope you don’t, anyway, ‘cos we ain’t got one.
’
The mechanic laughed to himself, then jabbed a thumb towards a younger guy. ‘Get on this one, Shane, will ya. Get Mark to give you a hand, if you need it.’

I didn’t need a loan car, and it had
look
ed
like the
kind of
garage
that didn’t provide that level of service
.
That was precisely why I had driven around until I had found it. I needed the type of garage t
hat
didn’t ask
too many questions. I had told the mechanic that my husband had dented the bumper when he had been moving our car. ‘
To let a neighbour out of his driveway. The problem is that
my husband had had
a few glasses of wine, and though he didn’t actually drive anywhere, well, you know
...well,
we can’t really claim on the insurance if you see what I mean
, I’m sure they’d ask why we didn’t report it at the time
.’ The mechanic had nodded, didn’t seem fazed by my story,
had given a conspiratorial wink that made him look even uglier than he already was, and then
asked if it would be a cash job.

I had decided to get the bumper of the car fixed.
It was
the article in the newspaper about the cyclist, it
had worried me a little, it
seemed that somebody may have spotted the car. I was sure they didn’t have the
number plate
–
they couldn’t have, the p
olice would surely have been in touch by now – but it paid to be careful.

‘
Right, I’ll be back at
about five
o’clock
then,’ I said, but the mechanic
ignored me,
had already turned his back, leaving me staring at the wall. A calendar was
pinned up
there
, lopsided
,
glossy nymphs thrusting their breasts forward
, their lips pursed in a mock-sexual pout, seemingly desperate
to be ogled by thousands of tradesmen. I
didn’t like to think of myself as a complete prude, but I didn’t understand the point, and
these girls always looked so young...

I headed for the bus stop, then changed my mind. It was an unseasonably mild day, the sun
casting a balmy glow,
so I
decided to
walk.
It would give me time to think, to plan the menu for the dinner party that I was being forced to host.
The sun was low, its win
ter rays
had no real powe
r, and there was a light, chilled breeze
, yet
I had walked only a short way before I felt a light film of sweat over my body. I
chided myself, feeling an angry frustration at my unfit condition
. I had been such a
slim
teenager,
a slender waist, and ribs you could see,
but the rigours of bearing three children
, the feared
onset of middle-age,
together with a total lack of exercise for a good few years
had changed
all
that. I could feel the rolls of fat wobbling on my stomach,
and
my thighs scraping together with each step.

What could I cook?
Something simple, easy to prepare, but something that gave the
appearance
of hours of delicate preparation. 
G
raham had suggested
that
I cook Chateaubriand steak, but I always found that to be an awkward dinner party choice.
People
always
like
d
their steak cooked differently – well-done, medium, rare, medium to well
– and
it
just became a pain
, too much fuss.
Graham liked his steak very rare – blue – and if
we
were in company he would always made the same stupid joke; ‘
blue, please - just wipe its arse and put it on the plate
.’ He would follow this with a silly chuckle and sometimes it took all I had to stop me from sticking my fork in his eye.