Cath Staincliffe - Looking for Trouble

I dropped the umbrella and ran, kicking up gravel as I went. I skidded as I rounded the corner and one leg went scooting out to the side. I dug in with the other, to regain my balance, and felt the sickening wrench of my weak ankle. Fraser had gained on me. He could move fast. As I took off again, I knew I wouldn’t make it. He was at my heels and my windpipe was hurting with the exertion and the punishment from last night’s cycle ride. He was right behind me now. He grabbed for me, his fingers tightening in the coarse hair of the wig. He held tight, stopped, expecting me to jerk to a halt. I sailed on. I heard him shout in dismay.

I had the advantage now and didn’t dare relax my pace. Thank God for the trainers. I ignored the pain in my ankle. I reached the gates and turned onto the pavement, ran on past Nina’s. I sensed Fraser had stopped. When I judged I’d created enough distance, I looked back. Just in time to see him fling the wig to the ground and wheel away from the road.

I trotted another mile before I found anywhere with a public phone. A big theme pub, Tudor beams and microwave dinners. I’d no money, but I begged some ten pences off a party of office workers who were pissed enough to be feeling generous. I got Nina’s number from Directory Enquiries. ‘It’s me, Sal. I’m at the Black Bull Tavern on Middlewich Road. Can you come and get me?’ I felt awkward calling for help from someone who’d near enough poisoned herself within the last twenty-four hours – she must be feeling lousy – but there was no-one else I could ask.

‘What are you doing there? What happened?’

‘Fraser chased me.’

She thought it was funny. ‘Didn’t catch you, then.’

I described the drama on the drive back. Nina hooted with laughter. She was still pale but seemed to have some of her old sparkle back. She was sucking mints, her hands were steady. I assumed she’d been back at the booze.

I ducked down as we neared the house, only emerging once we were at her front door. Back in the dressing room, I wriggled out of the red sheath and into my damp jeans and sweatshirt.

‘Do you think he knew who you were?’ she asked.

‘I don’t know – hope he doesn’t treat all his callers like that. I suppose once the wig was off he got a pretty good look. And if he’s that paranoid, he’ll remember me from the other day. I’m sorry about the wig.’

‘No problem. It always gave me one helluva headache.’

It was after three; I’d be late for Maddie. I pulled the letter from the bum-bag.

‘What do you want me to do about Fraser?’ Nina asked.

‘Nothing. He’ll be on red alert now,’ I said. ‘Don’t even bother watching, unless you happen to be passing the window.’

The green lights were on my side for a change. I reached school just in time. I limped through the playground and drew a lot of sidelong glances from other parents. Maddie was in her surly mood. I let her be and we drove over to Tom’s nursery. I was gasping for a drink and almost faint with hunger. I felt smelly, too, after all that exercise and the fear. I craved a pot of tea, beans on toast (had we any bread?), a fierce shower.

Tom was in the home corner. He burst into tears as I moved towards him. I knelt down at his side. ‘Tom, what’s the matter?’

He shrank away from me, clung to the nursery nurse. What was it? Anxiety clawed at my stomach. I looked at her over his head. She pointed at my face, mouthed the words.

Oh God. No wonder they’d stared in the playground. I was still tarted up to the nines.

The storm really got going around tea-time. Digger set up a whine that grated on my nerves. Gusts of strong wind joined heavy rain. Out of the kitchen window, I could see the plants taking a battering, whipped this way and that, heads bowed with the weight. Maddie’s trike and Tom’s car scudded round with the strongest blasts. I pulled on my cagoule, slipped a pair of scissors in the pocket and went out there. I put the toys away in the shed and weighted the sandpit cover down with stones. Then I cut a handful of pinks and snipped off every sweet-pea in sight. Cut and come again.

Ray knocked on the window and crooked his fingers like a handset. It was Mrs Williams. ‘I got hold of Detective Inspector Miller,’ she said. ‘Took me most of the day.’

‘What did he have to say?’

‘He apologised – after a fashion. Blamed it on his juniors. Can’t say it was exactly heartfelt. Could do with a course in public relations, that one. He treats me like I’m threepence short of a shilling. Probably thinks if you’ve got grey hair you’ve no grey matter. Anyway, he wouldn’t tell me straight about the forensics, not what they’re after nor when it’ll be ready.’

‘He probably doesn’t know himself, but he’d hate to admit it.’

‘Well,’ she continued, ‘after pressing him a bit, he agreed to let me know if anything definite came up.’

‘Good. How are you?’

She sighed. ‘Oh, alright, I suppose. I just wish it were all over. I’m going down to stay at our Natalie’s for a few days, tomorrow. There any news your end?’

‘Well, I tried to see Martin today but I got chased off by the bloke who owns the place. He definitely doesn’t like callers. I’ll have to tread carefully if I go back there.’

‘You’ll try again, won’t you? I’ve been thinking about that boy and that letter. That’s all she left to him – all she got a chance to give him. I want to make sure he gets it.’

‘Yes.’ There wasn’t much else I could say.

The sweet-peas were a cluster of colour, every shade from the palest pink through to deep violet and striking fuchsia. I filled little jars with them and dotted them through the house. When I came back into the kitchen, the pinks had filled the air with their scent of sweet cloves.

I could take them round to Diane. A peace offering. There were still a couple of hours before the meeting with Clive.

Ray was happy to swap bedtime duty, though Maddie kicked up a protest. I invited her to watch the storm with me before I went. We turned the lights off in my room and gazed out, counting in between rumble and flash. One loud crack had us both shrieking with delight and shock.

I parked a few doors down from Diane’s. The narrow street was lined with cars at that time of day. Behind the lacy net curtains, little ones were being put to bed and the small rooms tidied up. At this time of year, if it hadn’t been raining, the kids would have been out on the street, mums would bring out chairs and sit on the dusty pavement, swapping tales and shouting warnings to their offspring. They’d all grown up together round here. Diane was an incomer, regarded as a ‘student’ by the neighbours, who pitied her lonely existence, as they saw it, and were plainly bemused by the bright abstract prints she made.

As I unclicked the seat belt, a car drew up alongside me, blocking the narrow street. Oh no, an irate resident perhaps. One of those people who insist on parking right outside their own front door.

I got out of the car and the passenger leapt out of the other car and came towards me.

‘Have I got your space?’ I called.

He looked incredibly upset. It was only a parking space, for heaven’s sake. I opened my mouth to offer to move, if that’s what he wanted. He leapt the last yard onto the pavement and thumped me full in the face. Suns burst in my eyes, trailing wires of pain from my nose. I was on the floor, my hands cupped over my face, making little yelping noises. Pain exploded in my belly, my ribs. Kicking me. I curled to protect myself. I could hear his breath coming in noisy gasps as he kicked my legs and my arms. He stamped on my head; my skull and ear ground against wet paving stones. I think he just did that once. I could taste iron, sweet and salt. There was a pause. Then a blow to my kidneys, sharp and hard, which sent a deep, bruising pain rolling through my abdomen.