The Know (38 page)

Most of them had never met another sex offender in their lives until they got banged up. Then, suddenly, it was like all their Christmases and birthdays rolled into one. They didn’t have to hide what they were any more, and they didn’t feel isolated or alone. Suddenly they were surrounded by people just like themselves. It made them feel
normal
. They were over the moon to discover that their hitherto clandestine activities were in fact as routine as making a cup of tea to the people surrounding them now. Or so they told each other anyway.

Well, she was going to see to it that Little Tommy paid for what he had done, and she was going to make sure he never had the opportunity to do it to anyone else. Joanie was humming under her breath as she lay back against the seat and tried to relax. The cab driver looked in the mirror and smiled at her. She smiled back. Then, lighting yet another cigarette, she let her mind drift back to the job in hand.

 
Jeanette had asked around about Pippy Light and had been told the same thing, by Karen Copes and even by Jasper. The best person to ask, it seemed, was Lorna Bright who had known him for years. In fact, she had once been his girlfriend. But Lorna was terrified of Jeanette these days, thanks to Jon Jon and his threats. Didn’t even talk to her any more if she saw her up the shops.

Still, Jeanette was determined to find out what she wanted to know and she was willing to run the gauntlet to do it.

She walked up the stairs to Lorna’s maisonette and knocked on the door. It was dark and it was late so she felt safe enough for the moment. She only hoped the place wasn’t full of wasters as usual. Someone or other would want to get into Jon Jon’s good books and grass her up to him to do just that. He was like a god round here now. Everyone revered him, especially since he had taken the law into his own hands with Little Tommy.

The burning of the nonce had made him a big man in the community; he had always been hard, even as a little kid, but now he was hard and respected - something everyone in their world strived to become.

Lorna opened the door, and the smell of skunk wafted out into the lobby. Jeanette could see that she was stoned out of her mind. Smiling tentatively, she said, ‘All right, Lorna? How’s the baby?’

Lorna did not find it in the least strange to have someone knock late at night and enquire about her child. This was par for the course for her and her so-called friends.

‘Ain’t you going to ask me in then?’

Lorna stepped aside and Jeanette walked past her into the sour-smelling dimness. In the lounge the only light was from the TV which was on as usual, and the new baby was lying on the floor. It had soiled itself and the smell was ripe. On the settee a man lay snoring, his naked body glistening with sweat.

The baby started to cry and Lorna jabbed at her with a dirty foot. Then, kneeling down on the carpet, she said gaily, ‘Who’s Mummy’s little fucker, eh?’

Jeanette sighed.

‘Shall I change her for you?’

She saw the gleam of calculation in the junkie’s eyes. Yet another unpleasant task avoided. Lorna really was a piece of shit.

‘Social Services are coming for her tomorrow. They already have the other bugger, Laeticia. She got so jealous of the new baby she tried to give her a clump!’

Lorna laughed.

‘Anyway, I need a break. She can go for a few weeks and then I’ll get some sleep.’

A few weeks would turn to months and they both knew that. When she had had her first daughter, the child had been born with a club foot and was very underweight. The story was that when Lorna went to the hospital eventually to bring her home, the child was already four months old and the nurses had refused to hand her over because they didn’t know who Lorna was. She had not visited her baby once.

Lorna’s own mum admitted how embarrassed she had been when the nurses had said, ‘We’ve never seen you before, you could be anyone.’

It had taken two social workers and a court order to get the baby home with its far from doting mother. She had kept it long enough to draw benefits and family allowance before the frequent sojourns in care started. Laeticia was now a pretty if nervous child, and this one would be the same as she grew up.

‘What did you call her?’

Lorna sighed.

‘Trelayne Sioux.’

Jeanette smiled.

‘Jerry Springer again?’

She laughed.

‘Spot on! Those Americans have great names, don’t you think? I wanted her to be different like, you know. A name is important, ain’t it?’

The sad thing was, Lorna really meant what she said.

‘She’ll be different, all right!’

Jeanette wasn’t sure whether Lorna was too stoned or too thick to take the insult for what it was.

‘What brings you here anyway?’

Lorna was watching her changing the baby quickly and efficiently.

‘I’ll tell you in a minute.’

Jeanette cleaned Trelayne up and dressed her, then cradled the baby in her arms and nursed her.

‘She’s starving, any chance of a feed?’

Lorna jumped up.

‘I always forget they need feeding all the time . . . that’s why it’s best she goes away for a while. You know, until she’s easier to handle.’

She came back with some baby feed that had obviously been given to her in the hospital, and equally obviously had just come from the fridge. The baby took it anyway, grabbing at it and sucking hungrily, the noise loud in the room. The child’s nails were already ingrained with dirt and she had a small bruise on her cheekbone. Courtesy of Laeticia, Jeanette supposed, though it wouldn’t surprise her if Lorna had done it herself and blamed the poor child.

She remembered her own mother feeding Kira, who had always smelled sweet, and was always clean and tidy. It was strange but Jeanette was only just learning to appreciate how good a mother Joanie was.

‘You’re a natural, you should have one yourself.’

It was meant as a compliment and Jeanette knew that. But it still annoyed her. Lorna had no other ambition but this, having kids and getting the benefits. What a life! Not only for Lorna but for her poor children who would be in and out of care their whole lives, and then carry on the family business. Get what you could off the State, what you were
entitled
to.

It was that word
entitled
that always annoyed Jeanette’s mother when she spoke to Monika about it. Monika couldn’t take on board that you should have paid some tax in your life before you got handouts. She didn’t see Joanie’s logic: that the dole and benefits should be there only until you got on your feet, got yourself work, that they were never meant to be a lifestyle.

Now, watching Lorna, Jeanette understood why her mother had always been on at her to get herself an education.

Well, it was too late for that now.

Lorna opened a couple of cans of Red Stripe and placed one in front of Jeanette. She gulped deeply from her own can and burped loudly.

The man on the sofa groaned and turned over. Lorna didn’t even look in his direction. He had a half-erection and it was pushing through his grubby underpants, Jeanette felt her skin crawling.

‘Who’s that?’

Lorna shrugged.

‘Peter something or other, I met him in the pub yesterday. He’d had a win at the bookie’s. I ain’t supposed to you know what yet, but I was pissed as usual.’

She laughed loudly at her own wit.

‘What do you want, Jeanette? Only your brother ain’t exactly my biggest fan, is he?’

‘Listen, Lorna, he can’t tell me who to be friends with.’

‘So he ain’t sent you here then?’

She shook her head and saw the relief in Lorna’s eyes.

‘’Course not! He don’t fucking own me, girl.’

It was the right approach.

‘Where can I lay the baby down?’

Jeanette followed Lorna through to a small bedroom; it held a mattress with a quilt thrown over it and a small Moses basket. Nothing else, not even a toy. There were a couple of dirty nappies on the mattress and the smell was ripe once more. Jeanette guessed that the mattress was probably wet anyway from the other little girl.

As she laid the baby down she said gently, ‘She’s beautiful. Is it true that Pippy Light’s the father?’

Lorna shrugged.

‘Could be, I suppose. At least she’s come out white so I know who
ain’t
the bleeding father!’

She was laughing now and the baby stirred in her basket.

Jeanette couldn’t help grimacing with distaste at Lorna’s words. Fortunately she misunderstood and nodded conspiratorially.

‘Last thing we want is her up again, eh?’

They tiptoed from the room. Jeanette was so sorry for the baby she had just had to leave in her basket on a dirty bare floor, her clothes and bedding stained and bedraggled. She consoled herself that at least the child was clean and fed, even if it had been done by Jeanette and not her mother. Presumably Lorna would have got around to it eventually. At least, she hoped so anyway. It went against the grain for people like them to phone either the police or Social Services, but for the first time ever Jeanette realised what those agencies were actually for.

She had seen kids out playing till all hours, scruffy and dirty. But she also knew they had been fed and loved, if only in haphazard fashion. Lorna’s child, though, would haunt her dreams. She knew that as surely as she knew her own name.

In the kitchen Jeanette sipped her Red Stripe as she watched Lorna ineffectually attempt to clean up around her.

‘So what’s the sudden interest in Pippy Light?’

‘Just asking, you know.’

‘Does your brother know you’re interested?’

Jeanette grinned.

‘He don’t know everything, just likes to think he does.’

Lorna opened her eyes wide at this blasphemy.

‘You’re a cow, ain’t you? Well, Pippy can be found at his flat most days. But I warn you, Jeanette, don’t get in over your head. If you want to score I can give you names of people who aren’t as heavy as him, you know what I mean?’

She scratched aimlessly at her head.

‘I scout for him sometimes, see. He likes me, old Pippy. Sees me all right for a bit of gear now and again. I have to put out for him, but he ain’t the worst. Just be careful. He’ll take one look and want you out earning for him. You’re jail bait and that’s his favourite pastime. Schoolgirls . . .’

‘Does he pay well?’

Lorna stared into her eyes.

‘You ain’t seriously considering it, are you?’

Jeanette shrugged once more.

‘He’d probably be too scared of me brother anyway! ’

Lorna shook her head.

‘Not Pippy Light, love, he’d love it. Him and Jesmond would find it amusing. Them two ain’t scared of no one.’

The last bit was said with bravado. After all, they were her friends.

‘Where’s his flat then?’

‘You serious?’

Jeanette nodded.

‘’Course.’

‘I’ll ring him for you, hang on.’

Lorna could get a drink off Pippy for this and her own back on Jon Jon in one fell swoop. What with the social worker taking the baby in the morning, and the money for the introduction from Pippy, she could be out of her brains and quids in by lunchtime tomorrow.

Life was just getting better and better.

 
Joanie hit Sheffield at just after ten at night. She rang the mobile number Errol had given them and was directed to a council estate on the edge of Sheffield town centre. As she walked up the concrete steps to the flat of the person who was going to take her to Tommy she looked around her. This place could be anywhere. Other than the accent she could hear in the street it could be London, Cardiff, Manchester or Glasgow. Anywhere there was a council estate built to house the forgotten people. The same smells assailed her nostrils, urine, sweat and fried food, and underlying the smell of poverty was the smell of drugs and drink. She recognised the familiar musky smell of heroin addicts; she had passed two in the hallway, their glazed eyes following her up the flight of stairs. The female was emaciated and vocal, telling Joanie in no uncertain terms what she thought at having to move aside to let her pass. The male was younger, unshaven and straggly-haired. He wouldn’t have noticed if a brass band had tramped through the dank lobby. He was gone from the planet and when he came back he would crash down harder than the space shuttle. But for the moment he was away, and he was happy.

She knocked tentatively on the door of the flat she was looking for. It was answered by a woman with dyed red hair and a cheerful smile.

‘Joanie?’

She nodded.

‘Away in, love. Did you find us all right?’

She nodded once more, not sure what she was doing now. Frightened of it all.

Inside the flat it was dramatically different. There were brightly coloured walls, everything was immaculately clean and very well lit, lamps and candles burning everywhere. The smell was fantastic: ylang-ylang, jasmine and lavender. The hallway was painted bright pink, and there was a framed poster of Marilyn Monroe opposite the front door.