Helen Black - Damaged Goods

She opened the catering-sized tin of instant granules that sat on the otherwise empty and clean work surface. Presumably it was too big to fit in any of the cupboards. When she opened one she couldn’t help but smile. The mugs, although a ragtag band of misfits, stood to military attention. When Lilly removed one, the space it left jarred to such an extent that even Lilly was moved to rearrange the others. In this place of chaos and ripped lives order was paramount; the comfort it gave immeasurable.

Lilly smiled again. It was going to be a hard case but she’d find a way. She always did.

Behind her someone was eating a bowl of cereal. The crunching was deafening. Lilly turned and saw Charlene, Rice Krispies dotting her pubescent cleavage.

‘Don’t you want some milk on those?’ Lilly asked.

‘I’m a vegan,’ answered Charlene.

‘What?’

‘It means I don’t eat animal products.’

‘I know what it means.’

Crunch, crunch.

‘I didn’t know you were into animal rights,’ said Lilly.

‘I’m not. I just like to piss ’em off.’

Lilly chuckled and crossed the hall to the cramped and untidy manager’s office, where a middle-aged black woman was hunched in front of a computer. She was typing laboriously with two fingers.

‘You’re too old for this crap, Miriam,’ the woman said to herself.

‘And I thought you were only twenty-one,’ said Lilly.

Miriam looked up and smiled. ‘How’d you get along with Chatty Cathy?’

‘Laugh a minute,’ said Lilly.

‘Get anything out of her?’ Miriam asked.

‘A bit tricky considering she can’t speak.’

Lilly collapsed in the chair next to Miriam. ‘To be honest I don’t know how I’m going to do this.’

‘She can write stuff down.’

‘I can think of easier ways to work,’ said Lilly.

Miriam shrugged. ‘No one said this job was easy.’

‘True,’ said Lilly. ‘Anyway, I don’t want to push too hard too soon.’

The approval in Miriam’s smile forced Lilly to add, ‘But I’ll have to at some stage.’

Miriam’s smile was intact but the approval had gone. Or at least that was how it seemed to Lilly. ‘She needs time. She hasn’t come to terms with what’s happening to her yet.’

‘Angry?’ Lilly asked.

‘More shocked.’

‘Hasn’t this been on the cards?’

‘No.’ Miriam reached for Lilly’s mug and took a sip. ‘They weren’t exactly the Waltons, but not the Wests either.’

‘Physical abuse? Neglect?’

Miriam gulped loudly. ‘Nothing to interest the Daily Mail . Kids fed, clean, went to school mostly. Social worker says it was a watching brief.’

Lilly retrieved her drink and scowled at the bitter dregs. ‘It must have been the gear.’

‘You’d think so, but Kelsey’s adamant her mum had been clean for nearly three months. It doesn’t add up.’

Lilly had been in this game long enough to know that logic and reason didn’t often play a part in her clients’ lives. ‘Who knows what goes through someone’s mind the day they give their children away.’

‘Yes, baby, come to Daddy.’

The girl didn’t move or even register his words.

He raised his voice, his expression firm but cajoling. ‘Pretty baby, come over here.’

Her heavy lids flickered but she remained on the sofa, unable to focus. Although his smile was fixed, the man’s impatience grew visibly and he patted the space on the sofa next to him.

‘I’m waiting,’ he said, though he clearly had no intention of doing so any longer and pulled the girl to him.

He pressed his lips to her ear and sang her name. ‘Tilly, Tilly, Tilly.’

She didn’t answer, didn’t even blink.

He removed her grubby underwear, fumbling on the frayed lace, and turned her around to front the camera. He stroked the pale contours of her torso, starting at the hip and snaking upwards. Her breasts were not yet developed, just tiny buds.

‘You are so beautiful,’ he cooed.

The girl parted her lips.

‘Tell Daddy what you want him to do.’

The lips parted again and the girl exhaled audibly.

When the man spoke again there was an edge to his voice. ‘Tell Daddy what you like.’

The lips opened yet again and for a second it looked as if the girl might speak. The man held his breath, his anticipation palpable. Instead, a drop of saliva escaped from the girl’s mouth and dribbled down her chin.

‘This is hopeless,’ spat one of the two men watching the video. ‘She’s drugged out of her mind.’

The young man opposite snapped off the television.

‘I need to see some sense of her wanting it,’ the older man said. ‘Or not wanting it, if you get my drift.’

His attempt at inclusion sickened the younger man, and he shuddered. ‘This ain’t what I’m into.’ He gestured to the stack of cassettes beside him. ‘This stuff is just my product, Mr Barrows. Money in the bank, understand?’

‘I do, but you understand this: your “ product ” is not satisfactory, and if you think I will buy inferior goods you really don’t know me.’

Oh I know you. I know you better than you think .

‘I’ve got some more I know you’re gonna like. How about I drop them round tomorrow.’

A spark shone in Barrows’ eyes. ‘Young?’

‘Very.’

CHAPTER TWO

Tuesday, 8 September

Lilly sniffed at the milk, which was two days past its sell-by date, and poured it over some cereal.

‘What’s that?’ asked Sam.

‘Special K.’

He turned the empty packet around in his hands as if it were the latest must-have electro gadget. ‘Can I have some?’

‘There’s only enough for me.’

‘Please.’

Lilly kissed the crown of her son’s head. ‘Frankly, I don’t think you need to lose weight.’

Five minutes later Lilly picked at some Shreddies while Sam polished off the bowl of Special K.

‘What time is it?’ Lilly asked.

Sam squinted at his new watch.

‘Put your glasses on,’ said Lilly.

Sam sighed and rummaged through his pockets. Lilly was about to point out how much better it would be to keep them in their case when she saw her own pair lying lens down on the draining board.

‘Bart is pointing to eight and Homer’s nearly on six.’

‘Shit!’

‘That’s a bad word,’ said Sam.

‘Thank you, Mary Whitehouse.’

‘Who?’

Lilly scrambled across the kitchen to the cupboard above the fridge to shove the cereal boxes back inside. ‘Never mind. We’re late, get your shoes on.’ In her hurry she tripped over the Lego fortress set up last night, banged her elbow against the fridge and scattered Shreddies across the tiled floor.

‘Uh oh.’

‘Hurry!’ Lilly yelled, and crunched her way to the door.

The school grounds were deserted, devoid of the usual melee of babbling mums vying for a place to park. Had everyone been and gone? Surely they weren’t that late? As she wondered, Lilly cast around for a plausible explanation to appease Mrs Thomas, the omnipotent Head of House, and checked the time on her mobile. Five past eight.

‘Five past eight? You said it was …’

She looked at Sam.

‘Just joking.’

At 8.45 a.m. Lilly left the school grounds and drove towards the village of Little Markham. She yawned and decided to go back home for a cup of tea. She had an appointment with Kelsey at ten so there was time to spare, even enough to call for a paper, but as she entered the newsagent’s her mobile rang. Lilly checked the number of the caller and her heart sank.

The voice at the other end chirped like one of the budgies Lilly’s nan used to keep. Sammy, Davis and Junior had spent their days pecking Trill and making a high-pitched racket. It was so grating that Nan used to put a gingham cover over the cage in the afternoon to fool the noisy buggers into going to sleep.