A Taste for Malice (20 page)

‘This is cool,’ says Dan. He has now accepted me and several times over the last twenty minutes was quite happy to tug on my sleeve to attract me to another exhibit.

‘Awesome,’ says Pete with a huge smile.

The common sense part of my brain then insists we go and see something quieter. The boys grow quiet when I suggest we move on, but don’t argue. We take the long way round and I give them both the chance to see over the sandstone banister down into the grand hall, where they can see a Spitfire suspended from the ceiling.

Walking back down towards the café I decide the time is right to speak to the boys.

‘Do you guys know what I do?’ I have one small hand in each of mine. They both turn their head up to look at me.

Both expressions are blank.

‘Mum said you were a policeman,’ says Dan as the memory presents itself to him. Pete nods, thinks for a moment then asks, ‘Have you shot anyone?’

‘Good grief, no,’ I answer. ‘Most policemen don’t have guns in this country. And I for one hope it stays that way.’

‘Have you put anyone in jail, Ray?’ asks Dan. This is the first time he has used my name and I can’t help but feel touched by it.

‘Lots of people. Lots of very bad people.’

Both boys are big-eyed and long-faced.

‘Do you ever get scared?’ Dan asks again. He looks at me and then his eyes slip to the side as his thoughts take him on a private journey.

‘Of course I do. All the time. I meet some scary people in this job. But I also get to meet nice people like you guys.’ I tighten my grip on each hand for emphasis. ‘I also get to protect nice people like you from bad men.’ And in this case, women.

‘Dan’s my big brother,’ says Pete. ‘He ’tects me from bad people.’ Pete’s small chest is puffed with pleasure that his big brother can be measured against an adult like me. His eyes move as he speaks. I follow the line of his sight. Children learn to lie at a very young age. But it can take years to control your body language so that it matches the words that come out of your mouth. As Pete spoke his eyes darted over to Dan’s legs. The question occurs to me, does Dan’s protection have something to with the injury to his leg?

‘How did he protect you, Pete?’ I ask and look from him to Dan. Dan is studying something in the distance. He looks content that we are talking about him, but is too modest to take part.

‘When the lady…’

‘Pete,’ Dan turns on him, his voice a harsh whisper. ‘It’s a secret. She told us not to tell.’

Pete’s head sinks into his shoulders, like a tortoise retreating from a threat.

‘What did she say?’ I ask Dan.

‘She said she’d come back and really hurt us if we told on her,’ says Pete.

‘Shut up, Pete,’ says Dan.

‘Sorry.’

‘Listen you guys,’ I kneel down so that I am on the same eye level as them both. ‘No one is going to hurt you. She told you those things so you wouldn’t tell and then she wouldn’t get punished for hurting you. But she’s gone somewhere else now and she won’t come back. Ever.’

‘Can you punish her?’ asks Dan. His eyes narrow and his lips tighten against remembered pain. His left arm hangs by his side, his hand reaching down his leg. Subconsciously, he pulls at his left arm with his right. As if at some level he’s aware that he is about to betray himself.

‘Yes. I’ll make sure she never hurts a little boy again.’

‘Will you make her cry?’ asks Pete.

I ruffle his hair and consider a response that meets with the truth and a child’s sensibilities. ‘Oh, she’ll cry alright. And she won’t stop for about ten years.’

Pete nods as if that is good enough for him and looks at Dan to judge his state of mind. ‘Dan. Tell him.’

‘But how do we know she won’t come back?’

‘Do you think your parents would let her in the door of your house? Your dad would be straight on the phone to the police.’

‘She said Dad was her special friend and that he would be on her side,’ says Pete.

‘What else did she say, Pete?’ I ask.

‘She said she would break my arm if I didn’t punch Dan in the willie.’

‘Pete,’ Dan warns and moves towards his brother. ‘We promised. It’s a secret.’

‘What happened?’

‘Nothing,’ Pete says in a small voice, steps back and looks at the floor.

I turn to his brother. ‘Dan, you’ve got to believe me, mate. This woman is out of your lives for good. She has hurt you guys for the last time. I promise you that.’

I don’t know if it was my tone, or the use of the word “promise” but something shifted in Dan’s eyes.

‘Listen, you were silent to protect your brother and yourself and it worked.’ I can feel I have some sort of inroads. Now it’s time to press home the advantage. ‘A secret is a special thing. Something magic. Something powerful. Take the power away from this secret and tell me.’ I look at him as an equal.

‘Some secrets just don’t deserve to be secrets, Dan.’

‘Angela, why don’t you go to bed and have some sleep. You look done in,’ said Jim. Angela shook her head and walked through to the spare bedroom. Several times through the evening Angela popped in to see how Moira was coping. The repetition of this event had as much to do with concern as it did with forgetfulness. Each time Jim would hear a soft mumble as the two women conversed. He ignored the impulse to shout at Angela to leave the poor woman alone. She would be feeling bad enough without someone else reminding her how awful the situation was every five minutes.

By the time the nine o’clock news was on Angela’s movements were slow and deliberate, her speech slurred and her expression as slack as a drunk’s.

‘Honey,’ Jim held her hand as she made another move in the direction of Moira. ‘You look about dead on your feet. Get ready for bed and I’ll see to Moira one last time before we turn in.’

Too tired to speak, she simply nodded and clutching her notebook to her chest as if it was a battery for her heart, she slouched towards the bottom of the stairs.

Moira’s room, or rather, the room that until now Jim had slept in, was in darkness. From the light provided by the hallway he could see a mound under the quilt. It was facing the wall to his far left.

‘Only me,’ Jim whispered. ‘Can I get you anything?’

No answer.

From the absolute stillness of the body under the quilt he guessed that Moira was still awake. If she didn’t want to speak to him he wasn’t going to persuade her otherwise.

By the time he arrived in Angela’s bedroom she too was asleep. The depth of her breathing and the slow rise and fall of her chest were proof of that. Jim looked down at her in sleep and wondered at how young she looked when the worry about being alive was tethered to the land of daylight. Even her skin looked softer.

For a moment he wondered what to do. Should he just go and sleep on the couch? They hadn’t really talked about the sleeping arrangements. He didn’t want her to feel uncomfortable, nor did he want to allow Moira any insight as to what life was really like in their house.

Looking at Angela from the side of the bed he realised that he was wasting his time worrying: King Kong could have picked Angela up from her bed, carried her around the town for an hour and she wouldn’t have noticed. Besides, he was getting too old for sleeping on couches.

He checked on Ben before he turned in. His son was lying on his back, the quilt pulled up to his nose. The only visible features were a pair of large, hazel eyes and a tuft of hair.

‘Are you not asleep yet?’ Jim asked, somewhat unnecessarily. ‘You should be asleep at this time.’

‘Is Mummy’s friend upset?’ he asked.

‘She misses Erskine, son. He’s staying with his daddy for a few days.’

‘His daddy took him. I heard her say that.’ Ben had obviously not missed much. He started to sob. ‘You’re not going to take me away, are you?’

‘Of course not, baby. This is our home.’ Jim leaned forward and pulled him in to his arms. Ben’s hair was damp on his forehead. The wee soul must have been working himself up with worry for the last two hours since he put him in bed.

‘Aw, son. Don’t cry. Daddy’s not taking you anywhere.’ Jim pulled the quilt back and slid in beside him. ‘Do you want me to sleep with you until you feel better?’

He could feel Ben’s answering nod against his chest.

Very quickly Ben’s breathing settled into a pattern that in turn soothed his father. He thought he would give it five minutes to make sure Ben was asleep and then he’d go through to the master bedroom.

Just five minutes… poor Moira, enjoying the connection and the warmth from Ben’s back, Jim couldn’t imagine the pain he would feel if someone were to take Ben from him. It must be the worst thing that could happen to a parent.

For the first time that day Jim felt good about himself. Despite the fact that he didn’t like the woman, he had been human enough to offer her some support when she was at her lowest. You’re not so bad after all, Jim Hilton. Another five minutes and then I’ll go and join Angela. This was just so comfortable. Just five …

Jim woke up with a start. From deep sleep to skin prickling alert in a second. He could sense the presence of someone else. He slowly lifted his head up to scan the room. He could make out the shape of a figure hunched in the far corner of the room.

‘Moira?’ Jim whispered as his eyes adjusted to the gloom.

Nothing.

Jim couldn’t see her face as it was in the shadows, but something told him that her eyes were open.

‘Moira,’ he said louder and sat up. ‘What’s going on?’

‘Just looking,’ Moira said and leaned forward into the grey slice of moonlight coming in from the window. ‘I should have that. I should be able to slip into bed with my child. I should …’

‘You should go back to your own room. You’ll wake everyone up.’

‘I just checked in to see if Ben was okay.’ She sniffed back a tear. ‘I was sure I heard Erskine crying …’ she paused and corrected her emotion. ‘…And then I remembered where I was. And that he wasn’t here.’ Another pause, another gathering of strength. ‘So I thought I’d check on Ben.’ The faint light from the street lamps outside highlighted her brief smile. ‘You both looked so happy and safe … It was hypnotic. I couldn’t tear myself away.’

She stood up and it appeared to Jim that something shifted in the process: a mask had slipped back into place.

One of the frustrations I remember having as a boy was not being in control. All the adults around me held the power and I moved about on their orders. I watched both boys as my words took seed in their minds and flowered into realization. Dan and Pete could both see that this was their opportunity to take back a little bit of that power from the adults.

Dan looks up at me. Through the window of his eyes I can almost see words taking shape in his mind. He opens his mouth to speak and then closes it again. His chin scrunches up. His mouth taking on the shape of an upturned U. His bottom lip trembling.

‘I’m scared,’ he says. Before I know it he is in my arms, his small shoulders shaking with the force of his emotion. Pete is soon overcome and joins in. Both boys are in my arms and part of my brain asks if I don’t need clearance from Disclosure Scotland before giving other people’s children a hug?

At first I feel reluctant. I am male and alone with a stranger’s children and I have my arms around them. Cue an angry mob and accusations of paedophilia.

Bollocks to that. These little boys need consoling and I am the only one here able to do it. Dan’s head is buried in my shoulder. Pete’s eyes are awash with tears, but he doesn’t stop watching his brother. With one hand he is rubbing his big brother’s shoulder and saying his name over and over again.

‘Hey guys,’ I say. ‘You’re perfectly safe. I’m the Police. No one is going to hurt you ever again.’ There I am thinking Dan is about to open up and then his fear of the Bogeywoman takes over. Anger tightens my jaw. That bitch has done a good job on these boys and it’s going to take more than a wee pep talk from me to break down their reserves.

Time for a shift in focus.

‘Dan, Pete, I’m sorry I made you guys cry. It’s all my fault. But if your mother sees you both like this she is going to break into that weapons room back there, steal a huge sword from the display and whack me with it. Then she’s going to stamp all over my dead body.’ I jump up and down on an imaginary corpse for good measure.

Both boys laugh. Dan’s giggle has a little hangover of a tear in it, but Pete is completely sold into laughter, his little body shaking as his brother’s had done only moments ago, except this time it’s with mirth.

There is one last trick up my sleeve to complete the boys’ transformation from tears to happiness. Desperate times call for the promise of more sugar.

‘Who fancies an ice cream?’

The boys sing “Yay,” in agreement. They both jump up and down. Call me irresponsible, but, hey, it works.

Before long, both boys have their bellies full of confectionery and their faces washed and I present them to their mother as if we have just had the most wonderful time. Which we did, apart from the five minutes of abject terror and tears.

I observe her in an unguarded moment as I walk across the café, before both boys shout “Mum” and run into her arms. The features of her face sag with fatigue and her shoulders are slumped against the need to ignore the requirement for rest and a darkened room. When she sees the boys running towards her, she sits up and her face transforms with borrowed energy. I don’t know much about her condition, but her fortitude impresses me and more than ever I want to help.

‘Wow, you guys look like you had a great time,’ she kisses them both on the cheek and looks over their heads at me. Her eyes are asking the question. Did I get anywhere? I shake my head. She wilts with disappointment and then rallies again. ‘Tell me what you saw,’ she says to the boys.

The boys try to outdo each other with descriptions of the weapons they just looked at. They both run out of arm’s length as they try to describe the scale of the swords. While words jostle and leap from their mouths, mum looks on with a rapt expression, as if there was no other place on the planet she would rather be.