M. Arlidge - Eeny Meeny

When Mark spoke he was plainly fighting hard to restrain his anger.

‘What makes you think that I would do that?’

‘Because there’s no one else, Mark.’

‘You had access, Whittaker, Charlie, the techies…’

‘Only Charlie and you were in the station when it was taken. The techies were on strike, Whittaker was on leave and I was out in the field.’

‘So it has to be me ? What about Charlie? Have you ever thought that it might be -’

‘It’s not her.’

‘How do you know ?’

‘Because she has an alibi. And because she looked me in the eye and told me it wasn’t her. Why haven’t you done that, Mark? Instead of wriggling on the line, why don’t you look me in the eye and tell me you didn’t do it?’

A brief pause, then:

‘Because you wouldn’t believe me.’

The sadness in his voice was crushing. Inexplicably, Helen wanted to get up and comfort him – she fought the urge, digging her nails into her wounded hand. The pain flowed through her, calming her.

When she looked up, Mark was pouring himself a large glass of wine.

‘Why the fuck not, eh?’ and he drained his glass, slamming it back down on the table in front of her. Staring at her, he slammed the glass down again. And again, and again, until finally the stem snapped and the glass shattered. He tossed the remainder away across the room, then ran his bleeding hands through his hair. His anger had flared, and now seemed to dissipate.

‘Why couldn’t you have asked me first, before setting this in motion?’

‘You know why. If there was any hint that I’d given you preferential treatment because I… because we’d…’

‘Looking after number one, eh?’

‘It’s not like that. And you know it.’

‘You know, for a long time, I genuinely thought I’d done something wrong. Offended you. Committed some terrible romantic faux pas. Then I wondered if it was the difference in rank. That you’d had second thoughts. But I didn’t really believe that, so I thought maybe you were just a headcase. A beautiful, unpredictable headcase. And you know what? I would have been happy with that. I could have worked with that.’

To Helen’s surprise, he laughed. But it was brief and tinged with bitterness. She was about to respond, but he talked over her:

‘But I never, ever thought that it would be this. That this was why you’d frozen me out. What makes you so convinced, so very sure that I would throw away my job, my future, my chances of being a good dad, of – fuck it – falling in love again for a backhander?’

‘Who said anything about a backhander?’

‘Don’t be obtuse.’

‘I never mentioned payment.’

Mark exhaled loudly. Then lowered his eyes to look at his bleeding hand.

‘Did she pay you, Mark?’

There was a long silence. Then:

‘You’re making a big mistake.’

‘Did she pay you?’

‘And I could sit here all day and all night and tell you exactly why I never spoke to her, why I never colluded with her, was never bribed by her, why I never did a damn thing wrong, but there’s no point, is there? The train has left the station and there’s no going back. And I will probably never know exactly why you’ve done this to me when you have no concrete proof whatsoever, whether it’s a cop thing, or a head thing or an… I don’t know what thing. But I’ll tell you one thing. I’m not going to sit here and be grilled by you in my home without a lawyer present. You’ve done this by the book. Of course you’ve done it by the book. So you will have been to Whittaker and talked to Charlie and sent the dreaded yellow form to Anti-Corruption. So I’m going to do it by the book. I’m not going to be squeezed like some fucking… criminal. I’m going to sit down in interview rooms with my lawyer and my union rep and slowly, carefully unpick whatever case you think you have against me, so that I’m exonerated and you are made to look a bloody fool.’

He pushed his chair back sharply and marched over to the front door, flinging it open. Helen had no choice but to obey – she was on dodgy ground being here at all.

‘Should I tell them we screwed?’ Mark fired at her. ‘Would that be good “colour”? Might explain why you’re ruining my career. Perhaps I wasn’t good in the sack. Perhaps you felt you’d let yourself down. Thought it might come back to you. Well, you can bet it will now.’

Helen had now reached the door. She just wanted to be out of there, but Mark wasn’t finished yet.

‘I should hate you, you know. But I don’t. I pity you.’

Helen pushed roughly past and hurried away down the stairs. Why did his pity hurt her? He’s a bent copper, a rotten apple – who gives a shit what he says? So she reasoned with herself but it didn’t cut any ice. Even amidst her anger and hurt, she knew that Mark had unnerved her. He seemed so indignant, so outraged, so sure of his innocence. The evidence all pointed to him. She couldn’t have got it so badly wrong.

Could she?

I remember that day so clearly. Everything that came after – the misery, the violence, the desolation – stemmed from that day. Things had been grim before that for sure, but I expected that. I hadn’t been expecting this.

There had been a sort of party at ours – my Uncle Jimmy’s birthday. They’d been at the booze all day – someone had had a result at the bookies – and everyone was even more wasted than usual. The neighbours had already been round twice, shouting obscenities about the noise, but my folks didn’t give a shit. They just cranked it up another notch – ‘Enjoy Yourself’ by the Specials blasting out at full volume. We hung around trying to cadge the odd ciggy or can but we weren’t welcome. In the end there’s nothing more depressing than a group of middle-aged wankers dancing and grinding so I pissed off to bed. My mum had passed out by that point and Dad and his ‘mates’ would often take advantage of her insensibility to play stupid pranks on her. He pissed on her once when she was asleep – they all did – and I didn’t like watching that, so I was better off out of it.

Initially, I thought he’d got the wrong room. That he was so wasted that he couldn’t tell which way was up. Then I was pissed off – I’d hardly slept a wink as it was. What chance would I have of sleeping now, with him passed out next to me? But he wasn’t asleep. And he wasn’t interested in sleeping either.

At first I didn’t move. I was just too shocked. His right hand was clamped around my right tit. Then I tried to bat his hand off, but couldn’t. He tightened his grip. I remember it really hurt as he squeezed harder. Now I was struggling. I hoped this was just a stupid joke, but I think I already knew that it wasn’t. Now he was climbing on top of me, pinning me down on the narrow bed.

I think I started begging now, pleading with him to stop, but his fingers were already up my nightdress, seeking an opening. His hands were rough and hairy and I remember wincing in pain as he shoved his fist inside me. I was still a virgin – only thirteen – I wasn’t made for someone like him. His other hand pushed my head into the pillow. I closed my eyes and hoped that I would die. That it would stop. But it didn’t – he just kept on, relentless, grunting all the while.

Eventually he got bored or ran out of puff. Wiping his hands on his jeans, he got off the bed and walked back to the doorway. I turned to make sure he was really going and only then did I realize that we’d had an audience. Jimmy and a couple of mates were watching, smiling and laughing together. My dad stumbled past them into the hallway. Jimmy let him go, then started to unbuckle his belt.