C.L. Taylor - The Fear

When the car finally pulls up on their street, Chloe sits tight, waiting for her dad to tell her that she can get out, then she runs up the path and into the house.

‘Mum!’ she calls. ‘I’m back!’

She pops her head into the living room to find Jamie sitting on the rug in front of the TV, the PS4 remote welded to his hands.

‘Jamie, where’s Mum?’

‘Having a lie-down. She’s got a migraine. Again.’

She takes the stairs two at a time, then gently pushes at her parents’ bedroom door. The curtains are drawn and the room is dark but she can make out the shape of her mother lying curled up on her side on the bed. She’s fast asleep. Chloe reaches into her back pocket for her phone and checks the time. 6.17 p.m. She wonders if Mike will be home yet. Not that she knows where that is. When she asked him where he lived and if he had a family, he shook his head and said, ‘All you need to know is that my life is a lonely one. Tell me if I’m wrong, but I’ve got a feeling you can relate?’ She’d looked away then, unable to cope with the intensity of his gaze.

‘Chloe!’ her dad yells from downstairs. ‘If your mum’s not able to make the dinner you’ll have to do it.’

Chloe glances at her mum, her face slack, her shoulders relaxed and her breathing heavy and slow, then she makes her way back down the stairs.

Any tension between me and Mike lifts the moment the ferry pulls away from the terminal and we’re free to get out of the car. He grabs my hand and half-leads, half-pulls me up the stairs to the deck.

‘Let’s find the arcade.’ He beams, dimples puncturing his stubbly cheeks. ‘If they’ve got those grabby games, I’ll try and win you a toy.’

We move from game to game – shooting, driving and dancing. Mike wins the shooting. I win the dancing. I win the driving too when I cheat and yank on his steering wheel, making him do a U-turn. He doesn’t care. He pulls me onto his lap, then without bothering to check if anyone is looking, he covers my face in kisses. When we’ve exhausted all the games, we drop shiny ten-pence pieces into the penny shove. We work as a team first, then race each other to see who can get the most coins in. As our winnings tumble over the edge, Mike wraps an arm around my waist and lifts me clean off my feet.

‘Let’s celebrate in style!’ he laughs. ‘The burgers are on me!’

He leads me to the restaurant and orders burgers, fries and milkshakes. I get Mike to dip his fries in his milkshake (‘disgusting’) and he challenges me to see who can take the biggest bite out of our buns. I’ve seen lots of different sides to Mike’s personality in the eighteen months since I’ve known him. I’ve seen him thoughtful, sensitive, kind and strict (but only at the club). But I’ve never seen him like this before. The playful side of him is amazing. It’s like we’re the same age.

It doesn’t last forever. The closer the ferry gets to Calais, the quieter Mike becomes and as the car pulls off the rank he snaps at me to ‘wait’ when I ask where we’re going. When the customs officers check our passports, his whole body tenses and he holds himself very still. He’s worried, but he shouldn’t be. As far as Mum and Dad are concerned, I’ve gone on a karate camping trip. As long as I’m back by Sunday night they’ll be fine.

‘My niece,’ Mike says as the uniformed man looks from him to me.

‘Oui,’ I say and flash him a smile. Mike twitches, ever so slightly, like he’s annoyed with me, but he keeps his eyes fixed on the man’s face.

‘Merci.’ He gives the passports back and waves his hand for us to move on.

I almost threw up when I pulled into the parking lot of Malvern Police Station but anger propelled me out of the car and into the building. God knows what the duty sergeant made of me as I flew up to the desk and demanded to speak to someone urgently. My heart’s still pounding and I babble rather than speak, my voice filling the small, beige room. DS Hope doesn’t say a word. Instead she listens intently, her eyes on me, her pen poised over the notepad on her lap.

‘It happened at Greensleeves Garden Centre near Powick,’ I say. ‘Just before closing. The man’s name is Michael Hughes. I don’t know the girl’s surname but her first name is Chloe. I heard her dad shout to her when he picked her up. I followed them home in my car. Her address is 29, Missingham Road. It’s just off the—’

DS Hope raises an eyebrow. ‘You followed the girl home?’

‘Of course. I was worried about her. I thought if I found out where she lived, then I could pass the information on to you.’

‘Why not ask another employee? You just told me you thought she worked there. That she was wearing the same red polo top as the woman on the tills.’

‘The woman on the tills wasn’t there when I left.’ My chest tightens as the lie leaves my mouth, but what else can I say?

DS Hope is looking at me like I’m unhinged. Did I do something weird? Would a normal person not have followed Chloe home?

‘What did you do after you followed her?’

‘I drove straight here.’

‘Right, okay. So, let’s go back to the start.’ DS Hope lays her pen down on her notepad. ‘You were walking around the garden centre and you saw an adult man kissing a teenage girl?’

I try to swallow but my mouth is too dry. Being in this windowless beige room is bringing back memories I’d rather forget and it’s taking all my willpower not to run from the room.

‘Yes, as I said. He went into a summer house. She was already in there, like she was waiting for him. He looked around to see if anyone was watching and then he kissed her.’

‘And what time was this?’

‘Nearly six o’clock.’

‘And this …’ she glances down, ‘Michael Hughes. Does he work at Greensleeves Garden Centre too?’

‘No. He’s got a delivery company. But I think he does some of their deliveries.’

‘You know him then?’

‘I …’

I can’t tell her the truth. I told the duty sergeant that my name was Lou Smith, not Lou Wandsworth. I don’t want to talk about what happened between me and Mike. I just want the police to stop it from happening again.

‘Lou? Are you okay?’ DS Hope sits forward in her seat, her eyes scanning my face.

‘I’m just a bit hot.’ I grab a tissue from the box on the table and wipe it over my forehead. Mike kissing that girl is all my fault. If I’d testified against him, he might have been given a longer sentence. He might still be in jail. I’ve spent the last eighteen years telling myself that what happened was a one-off, that it was because of me. I wouldn’t – couldn’t – let myself believe he’d do that to anyone else.

‘What is it you’re not telling me, Lou?’ DS Hope asks. ‘What’s your relationship with this man?’

‘I haven’t got a relationship with him. I came here to report what looked like grooming. That’s all. I thought it was the right thing to do.’

‘How do you know his name then, and what he does for a living?’

‘Because I’ve used his company for removals before.’ The lies are coming thick and fast now. Why did I think this was a good idea? I didn’t think it through properly. I never should have stepped foot in here.

‘And you recognised him, when you saw him in the summer house?’

‘Yes. Why are you asking me all these questions?’

‘I’m just trying to establish what happened.’ Her gaze doesn’t waver. She doesn’t say anything for several seconds. She’s trying to get me to talk but I’ve said too much already. ‘The thing is, Lou, we need evidence to arrest someone and if there’s something you’re not telling me you’re going to make my job more difficult.’