Jennie Ensor - The Girl in His Eyes

Looking around, she saw squat, grimy-fronted terraces punctuated by corner shops. The area wasn’t familiar. The moon, a sickly yellow clown’s smile, low in the sky. It was nowhere near sunset, but the light was being sucked away by dark towers of cloud. The weather had turned – it was way too hot for May. Moisture-laden air clung to her skin like a damp blanket. A storm would come, sooner or later.

The evening commuter rush had started already. Streams of Lycra-clad cyclists dodged packed buses. The grocery on the corner was doing a brisk trade. She went inside, and bought an apple and a bottle of water. She was more thirsty than hungry, though she’d eaten nothing since breakfast.

Outside, she leaned on a garden wall. Her legs were starting to ache and her left toe was sore where it had rubbed against her trainer. She munched into the apple and juice dribbled down her chin. It was wonderfully sweet and refreshing.

Well, are you going to do it? Are you really going to do something, or was all that talk earlier just bravado?

She tossed the core into a dustbin on the other side of the wall. She didn’t have a smartphone, reluctant to pay extra just to be able to use the internet when not at home, but it would have been handy to find out where the nearest police station was. She went through what she would say.

Hello, my name’s Laura Cunningham. I’ve come to report a crime. Two, actually.

They would ask lots of questions, ask her to make a statement. They would thank her for taking the trouble to come in, and assure her they would do all they could to investigate everything fully. Maybe they would do, maybe they wouldn’t, but what other choice did she have?

Her mobile rang, making her start. Daniel’s name flashed up on the screen.

‘Hi, Daniel.’

‘Where are you? I’ve been trying to get hold of you.’

‘I’m out, walking.’ She raised her voice as another bus trundled past. ‘Sorry, I didn’t hear the phone. There’s a lot of traffic.’

‘I talked to Dad earlier. He says you’re going to report him to the police.’

Around her, rain began to thwack on the pavement. She looked up, her cheeks catching fat wet drops.

‘Is that true, Laura?’ His voice louder. Loud enough to overcome the traffic noise.

‘It’s true. I’m going to tell them what he did to me. And, while I’m there, I’ll tell them what I’ve heard he did to Emma. They’ll find that interesting, I think.’

‘Are you having me on? You’re going to turn Dad in to the cops?’ Her brother’s voice bellowed into her ear. ‘You can’t do this, whatever you think he may have done. He’s our father, not some fucking criminal!’

She pulled the phone away from her ear, nearly dropping it. Daniel’s reaction sent a bolt of shock through her body. She’d never known him to be this furious. But it awoke the anger inside her too.

‘Indecent assault, sex with a minor, rape. Whatever you call it, Daniel, it’s a crime.’

‘If you believe that.’ He didn’t try to keep the scepticism from his voice.

‘Did he tell you what he actually did?’ Her voice came out too loud, distorted.

‘He said she was egging him on and he lost control.’ Her brother sounded embarrassed, took a long time to finish his sentence. ‘She was touching him and he couldn’t stop himself, he started touching her back.’

‘What?’ The heat left her body. She couldn’t find any words.

‘I know, it’s totally gross. But he swears that’s all he did—’

‘He’s lying, can’t you tell? He’s trying to shift all the blame onto Emma—’

‘OK, OK. I get you, Laura, I do. But do you really want Dad to end up in court? Think for a moment.’

‘I think he should have to go to court, yes. Absolutely he should.’

Her brother carried on. If their father was prosecuted, their lives would change. Even if he wasn’t found guilty, people would assume he was. His name would be in the papers and on social media, and so would theirs. Even if they could keep their names out of the media, people would find out somehow. This would follow them around for the rest of their lives. He’d be ashamed to use his real name. He’d have to admit to his fiancée that his father was a child abuser. If he had kids, what the hell would he tell them about their granddad? Did she want to bring all that down on him? On herself too? And what about Mum?

Daniel’s voice faded into the sound of rain and tyres on wet tarmac. A tear slipped down Laura’s cheek.

‘Hello, are you there?’

She couldn’t speak. She switched off the phone and fumbled for a tissue to wipe her face. It was useless. More tears came, mingling with the rainwater sliding down her face. Without thinking, she started to walk. She stepped off the kerb to cross the side street, straight into the path of a cyclist turning right. Just in time she stepped backwards, feeling the whoosh of air as they brushed past. Another cyclist flashed by, close behind, draped in fluorescent yellow.

Back on the pavement, her legs gave way. She sank onto a damp paving stone beside the kerb, hugging her knees, hiding her face in her arms. The rain came more steadily, heavier now.

‘Oh, God.’

She said it aloud. A prayer, of sorts. She was utterly drained; she couldn’t think, couldn’t move. She would just have to sit until the rain floated her away.

For several minutes, footsteps came and went around her, as if it were quite normal for a young woman to be sitting by the kerb in the pouring rain. Her hair was sticking to her brow and her T-shirt’s cool dampness hugged her skin. She closed her eyes.

Someone was tapping on her shoulder.

‘Excuse me.’ A face came into view. A guy in a raincoat, carrying an umbrella. ‘Sorry to disturb you, but hadn’t you better get out of the rain? If you stay there you might get pneumonia or something.’

The guy hurried off before she could speak.

At home, Laura made a cup of tea and peeled off her damp clothes, put on her dressing gown and turned on the hot water for a shower. The light on the phone handset was flashing. She played the message. It was from her mother:

‘Hello, darling, I’m in Woking. I saw the solicitor this afternoon about getting a divorce. I’m having dinner with a friend now. I’ll be back at Katherine’s later tonight.’ The line crackled, making her mother’s voice hard to hear. ‘Daniel phoned earlier, he’s very upset. He says you’re going to the police about your father. Please, Laura, don’t do anything yet. I need to talk to you—’

A static-filled announcement interrupted.

‘I know he’s done some terrible things, but he’s still my husband. What if he ended up in prison? I don’t know if I could cope with that on top of everything else. And your father… it would finish him off—’

A long beep cut her off mid-sentence.

Laura drank more tea. Her hands were trembling. She was being squeezed, bit by bit, into a small box. Both her mother and Daniel wanted to shut her up – what chance did she have now?

She undressed and stepped into the shower, staying in until the water ran cold, ruminating on her mother’s voice in the message. Composed, just about. Yet there was something jagged and frayed below its surface, like the howl of an animal in pain.

She dried herself slowly, thinking she ought to eat something. There’d be leftovers in the fridge, enough to make a meal. Against the bathroom window, the steady swish of rain. It was properly dark now.

The ring of her mobile phone cut across her thoughts. She wrapped the towel around her and hurried to the bedroom where she’d left her bag. It would be her mother, most likely.