Sue Fortin - The Half Truth

‘Eyes up,’ said Martin. ‘Here comes the lovely Mrs B.’ Martin shoved his newspaper into the foot-well and focused on the mother and child walking towards him. ‘That’s her, isn’t it?’

Picking up the camera, John zoomed in on Tina Bolotnikov. For a moment he was stilled by the sight of her. She was as beautiful as she was five years ago. She had the same elegance about her. Head held high, shoulders back. Her hair, the colour of cocoa beans, bounced on her shoulders as the late-afternoon sun highlighted the milk-chocolate tones running through it. But there was something in her eyes that he couldn’t remember seeing before. A wariness. Her blue eyes darted around all over the place.

Martin punched his shoulder. ‘You going to take some photos or what?’

John began taking some snaps, distance ones and close-up ones.

‘Take some of the boy as well,’ said Martin. ‘Do you think it’s hers?’

John focused the camera on the dark-headed boy and took some more shots. Adjusting the lens, he took a close-up as the lad looked up. In that instant, he could see it by the eyes. He knew exactly who the father was. ‘That’s Sasha Bolotnikov’s son.’

‘How do you know that?’

John lowered the camera from his face and watched through the car window. He knew Tina was pregnant when they had been under surveillance. He had been in their flat, poking around, looking for evidence one morning when they had both left to work in the deli. He hadn’t found anything, only a pregnancy test stick. Tina had left it sitting on the bedside table where she must have told Sasha that morning. Funny, he remembered, he had noticed how happy they were opening up the shop and going about their business. They had a secret; one which John now shared with them.

A small flicker of guilt wavered within John. He had used the new-found knowledge to his advantage. At the time it was a case of a means to an end; there was no guilt attached. He was simply doing his job, using this intel to his advantage in the war against crime.

He had managed to convince himself for a long time after the botched Moorgate takedown that it was all part of the job, but as time wore on, guilt had come knocking. A gentle tap at first, one he could ignore. Now, however, it was practically hammering at the door but John wasn’t answering.

‘Work it out, dummy. The boy’s about five years old. She was pregnant around when we had Sasha and the gang under surveillance. Anyway, you only have to look at him to know he’s a Bolotnikov.’ For a fleeting moment he felt a wave of sympathy for Sasha Bolotnikov. He must never have seen his son.

John took the final snaps as she opened the gate and walked up the path with her son, before letting them in and closing the door behind her.

John put the camera down and settled back in his seat. ‘Let’s sit and watch for a while. I don’t want to speak to her yet. Someone might come a-calling.’

John settled back in his seat. This could be a long wait.

That night Tina sat on the edge of Dimitri’s bed, watching until he had drifted off to sleep. She had read a story to him, as she usually did, but instead of leaving him to settle on his own, she had stayed.

Tea at her parents’ house had been an enjoyable occasion, her earlier sense of unease having all but disappeared. She watched his eyes flutter open and then close, gradually becoming defeated by the heaviness of sleep. Listening to the gentle rhythm of his breathing gave Tina a sense of calm. It soothed her soul.

It was somewhat reluctantly that she left his room to go and tidy up the kitchen and settle herself in front of the TV. She hoped that catching the cooking programme showing on BBC2 would take her mind off recent events, enough that she could get a good night’s sleep herself.

Tina went downstairs and through to the back of the house, into the kitchen. It was dark outside now and her reflection against the glass made her jump. She let out a startled cry.

‘For goodness sake!’ she admonished herself.

The air in the kitchen seemed cold. Tina shivered, her eyes immediately scoped the windows. They were all closed to keep the cool night air out. Something made her look beyond her reflection in the glass.

Her small garden backed onto an alleyway used as access for the middle terraced houses. A movement caught her eye behind the brick wall. This time she screamed. Without looking closer, she rushed to the windows and yanked the roller blinds down, shutting out the danger.

The door. Was it locked? Tina rattled the handled and pulled against it. It was definitely locked.

Someone was out there, watching her. She hadn’t imagined it this time. Her heart pumped wildly as she dialled 999.

‘Sorry, Mrs Bolotnikov, but we can’t find anything or anyone suspicious out there,’ said the police officer as he came into the kitchen from the garden. ‘Are you certain you saw someone?

Tina shifted uncomfortably in her seat, reluctant to speak. It sounded so stupid now. She caught a look pass between the police officer and his female colleague, who was sitting at the table with her, drinking a cup of tea. They clearly didn’t believe Tina had seen anyone.

‘I definitely saw someone looking over the garden wall,’ she said, with as much confidence as she could muster. ‘As I came into the kitchen, I had that feeling of being watched. That’s what made me look up.’

‘It was getting dark. Could it have maybe been a shadow from the trees at the back? Or a cat on the wall?’ suggested the other officer.

Tina considered this idea for a moment, although she was in no doubt herself, she at least wanted the police to believe she was being rational. She shook her head. ‘No, it wasn’t a cat or a shadow. It was definitely a person.’ Tina got up and put her cup on the worktop.

‘What about someone next door? Do they use the back gate at all? Kids maybe?’ The female officer enquired. Tina could sense her frustration rising. They didn’t believe her. She graced them with an answer all the same.

‘No one really uses the alleyway. It’s only access for the middle terraces. Mr Cooper lives next door. Some days, not every day, I pop round there with a bit of dinner for him if I’ve made too much. I use the back gates then. He’s in his eighties and lives alone. It wouldn’t have been anything to do with him.’

The police officers gave another cursory look around the garden and into the alleyway, reporting back that if there had been anyone here, they were long gone.

Tina sighed as she closed the door on the departing officers. She turned the key in the lock and slid the bolts across at both the bottom and top. She yanked on the door handle and tried to open the door, just to check that there was no way anyone could get in. She repeated the procedure with the back door. The excitement of all the police activity had woken Dimitri, but Tina had managed to distract him with a Spiderman video in the living room. She poked her head around the door.

‘Come on then, Dimitri,’ she smiled at him. ‘Excitement’s all over. Best get you back to bed.’

‘Did the police catch the bad man?’

‘There wasn’t a bad man, darling. Mummy made a mistake.’ She scooped her son up from the sofa, groaning slightly at the weight of him. He’d soon be getting too old and big for carries. ‘You will never guess what it was.’

Dimitri shook his head, returning her smile before snuggling his chin onto her shoulder.

‘What was it?’

‘Turned out it was the cat, that’s all.’ Tina made her way upstairs to Dimitri’s room.

‘Our cat, Rascal?’

Yes, Rascal. Silly old mummy.’ She hoped she sounded convincing.

Tina didn’t sleep well at all that night. She’d welcomed the dawn with bleary eyes and a hard day at work had done nothing to make her face seem any fresher. Fay had commented on how tired she looked, but Tina passed it off as staying up late to watch a DVD.