No Place of Safety (18 page)

‘Did you look out of the window?'

‘Oh aye. Just idly. It was nice being on the inside looking out, instead of the outside looking in. Didn't stop me thinking. There's not a great deal going on in the street outside here – a right dead end.'

‘But you saw, say, the people arrive who created a bit of a barney early in the evening?'

‘I did. At least I saw the Indian chappie, but I didn't exactly see him arrive: I saw him park his car and come up the street. I'm in the attic, see, with the window built into the roof. It's not a splendid view – you certainly can't see the front door, or even the front gate. You can just see a bit of the road down from the house.'

‘And Mrs Ingram – the woman with the red hair?'

‘By then I was in the doorway of number twenty-two, enjoying the fun. I saw her arrive from there.'

‘What about later: did you hear the screams?'

‘Aye, I did – from a distance, but pretty horrifying.'

‘Had you seen anything before that?'

‘From the window?' He thought about it. He had, Oddie decided, a clear, hard, matter-of-fact brain that liked order. Eventually he was ready to reply. ‘The light was failing by then. Hardly anybody about. Yes, there was someone who came up the street about then . . .'

‘A woman with red hair?'

‘She had a hat on. I couldn't see the hair, or the face. It was a blue hat with a small brim. And she was coming
up
the street, from Farnley Road.'

‘You couldn't see if she came in?'

‘No, I've told you: I couldn't see the gate.'

‘But would the timing be about right if she'd come through the gate, let herself into the house, gone into the front room and stabbed the two, who then started screaming?'

He thought very hard.

‘You're trying to put words into my mouth. I can't remember anything that contradicts that, but equally she may just have continued walking up the street.'

Oddie had to content himself with that.

 • • • 

When Katy came back from doing the shopping, and while Alan was putting it all away and making them a cup of coffee, Charlie talked to Katy about how Ben had suddenly come into her life.

‘He came round to the house,' Katy said, sitting on the edge of her seat, obviously still excited by the memory. ‘He'd seen Mum in the Bramsey Morrison's and followed her to the post office where she works part-time. Then he just looked in the telephone directory to find the C. Bourne who was closest to where she worked. I'd no sooner got in from school when he rang the doorbell. He must have been watching for me . . . He didn't even know my Christian name.'

‘Not a very good start,' commented Charlie.

‘It didn't seem like that. It seemed like we were beginning a voyage of discovery right from the very beginning.'

‘Did you let him in?'

‘Yes. I never had any doubts. I just looked at him and I
knew
he was nice and honest and not dangerous at all. He said, “I think I'm your father”, and I looked at him and we both laughed – I don't laugh very often. And we sat in the front room and he talked about how he'd left Mum when she was pregnant and how it wasn't surprising if she felt bitter about it, and we talked about my life and what I wanted to do – only there wasn't much to say about
that
. And he said he had another child in the area – he was embarrassed about it, naturally – and I knew Alan by name. He said he was meeting him for tea the next day, and asked me to come too. It was like my life was suddenly being transformed. I said “Yes”, but I wanted to dance for joy. And he said he
hoped we wouldn't say anything to our parents yet, as it would be better if he approached them.'

‘It probably would have been,' said Alan from the kitchen. ‘I mucked that up. I felt so
angry
that I'd never been told that I blurted out that I knew.'

‘That's when we decided to come here,' said Katy. ‘We had had a wonderful tea with Ben. I was talking as I'd never talked before, and even with Alan alone afterwards it was – it was as if I'd been born again. Ben had given us the address, we knew the street, and then when Alan rang and said he'd had a bit of a bust-up with his parents and was thinking of going to live at the refuge, here, at least for a bit, I just said, “I'm coming too.” And I've never regretted it, not for a moment.'

‘It's not just being with Ben,' put in Alan. ‘It's doing something really useful.'

‘Yes, it's that,' agreed Katy, ‘but it's also watching him, seeing how he deals with people, listens to them. It's not that I always agree with him. Sometimes I think he's too soft, but – '

The account was interrupted by a ring at the doorbell. As Alan went to answer it, Katy went on:

‘It's probably someone wanting a room, someone who hasn't heard. It's a pity we can't take anybody today. I think Ben would want his room used as long as he's in hospital. We're going to see Mehjabean tonight, and we're hoping she can come back tomorrow. We want Ben to realize when he regains consciousness that we can cope, Alan and me. We really can. We – '

Alan reappeared at the doorway, standing awkwardly.

‘Katy, it's your mother.'

If Alan had felt an awkwardness in announcing the visitor, that was nothing to the awkwardness that the visitor seemed to feel in getting herself through the door and into view of her daughter. The natural stiffness of the body was accentuated, and the hardness of the mouth and eyes were confused by an apparent realization that they ought to be softened, ought to be feeling something that they were not used to showing. To Charlie she looked like a very bewildered lady.

‘Hello, Katy,' she said.

‘Hello, Mum.'

There was a second's pause, then she rushed in.

‘Katy, I've been worried sick since I heard the news on the radio. What have you got yourself into, girl?'

‘There's no need to worry, Mum.'

‘Now that plainly is nonsense, Katy,' said Mrs Bourne, conscious that in that at least reason was on her side. ‘You have two vicious attacks in this house and you say there's nothing to worry about. It may be murder!'

‘It wasn't people here,' said Katy, not looking at Charlie and hoping he would not contradict her. ‘It was someone who came from outside.'

‘I don't see what difference that makes. Someone came in and tried to murder your . . . your father. I think that should tell you something about him.'

Katy's chin went up – a characteristic gesture, born of opposition.

‘It doesn't tell me anything at all. It's not a crime to be
murdered,' said Katy, clearly feeling that the balance of reason had shifted to her side.

‘Your father's gone through life thinking he can do what he pleases and bugger the consequences for anybody else. He hasn't cared who he hurt. I want you to come home, Katy.'

A mulish expression came into Katy's eyes.

‘I can't come home. Alan and I are going to keep this place running until Ben comes out.'

Reluctantly Mrs Bourne turned to Charlie.

‘Tell her that's just not on,
please
. They're teenagers, for God's sake.'

‘We're not happy with the situation here,' said Charlie, speaking reluctantly. ‘But there are limits to what we can do. Say we were to order Katy and Alan home. What's to keep them there if they don't want to stay?'

‘I'd bloody lock her in if necessary!'

‘Your house hardly looked like San Quentin to me. She'd be out of the window the moment you went to work.' He saw that she acknowledged the truth of this. ‘What I'd suggest – '

‘Yes?' She seemed willing to grasp at any suggestion.

‘At the moment Alan and Katy are perfectly safe. The two houses are swarming with policemen. I suggest that what you need is time to talk things over quietly with Katy. And I don't think here is the place – or now the time, either, come to that, with things going on everywhere. What you need is an absence of fuss. I suggest that Katy comes to see you tomorrow, and you begin to talk things through.'

‘But she'll try to make me come home,' protested Katy, aware that she sounded childish.

‘Your mother's perfectly justified in being concerned, and she's got a right to try to persuade you to return home. Will you go and talk to her?'

There was a silence.

‘I suppose so,' said Katy. ‘But I'm not going home.'

‘Well, that seems to be the best you can do,' said Mrs Bourne, grudgingly. Then she tried to right herself. ‘I do miss you, Katy. You may have thought I wouldn't, but I do.'

‘You miss the shopping and cleaning and cooking I did.'

‘All right. I miss all that. But I miss you, too.'

She turned and went out with rather more dignity than she had brought in with her. At least she did not try to feign surprise at the unforgivingness of the young. Charlie followed her into the hall.

‘It
was
the best I could do.'

‘Yes. I . . . I'm sorry if I sounded ungrateful.'

‘You may find you have to share her with this place. It's captured her imagination.'

‘Whatever's happened to “A daughter's a daughter for the rest of your life?” ' Mrs Bourne demanded, the grievance back in her voice.

Charlie shook his head in wonderment. Where did such people live?

‘That hasn't been true for a long time, if it ever was. Daughters grow up, get jobs, move away just like sons these days. When I spoke to you before you didn't seem concerned at losing your daughter.'

‘No . . .' She hesitated, looking down at the carpet. ‘I missed her, much more than I expected to. Losing her to her father is pretty hard, after all that happened.'

‘I've been talking to someone today who's in pretty much the same position as you, and she doesn't seem to feel any bitterness – says Ben always made it clear to her that he wasn't the marrying kind.'

‘Bully for her. I bet she's got help in bringing it up.'

‘She's got her mother.'

‘There you are.'

‘But the child is a spastic.'

The argument fell on stony ground. The aggressive sense of grievance came into her eyes again.

‘I suppose you want me to think there's always someone worse off than yourself? I'm not that philosophical.'

‘Did Ben promise you marriage, or pressure you to have the child?'

She looked down.

‘Well, I may have misled you a bit there. You've been fair to me today, and I'll try to be fair with you. He did say he'd try to have a long-term relationship, but he also said he
wasn't the type for it, and that it'd be hard. It was me decided to have the child, because I thought it would help me to keep him. Aren't we women daft? It was when I'd decided to have it that he encouraged me, said it would be loved and so on. But not, unfortunately, by him. He took off before it was born, like I said.'

‘You seem to bear a grudge – quite understandably.'

She looked at him, animal cunning in her eyes.

‘If you think that fifteen years later I upped and – what was it? – cut his throat, you're out of your mind.'

‘What were you doing last night around ten o'clock?'

‘Sitting home feeling a bit lonesome and watching telly. Ken Wade, the man who runs my pub quiz team, rang some time then. I expect you could check with British Telecom.'

‘We'll do that.'

‘But I'll tell you one thing: you're barmy to think I could have done it, after all these years, but you're right there'll be a woman in it somewhere. I don't say she'll have done it, not cut his throat, but she'll either be behind it, or be the cause. Because Ben and women, together, they're dynamite. That's one reason I don't want Katy staying on here. After all, she can't
think
of him as her father, can she?'

‘What is it about Ben Marchant that makes him so irresistible?' asked Charlie, genuinely curious. ‘He seemed a quiet, sincere, concerned bloke to me.'

‘Whatever he's doing at the time, he makes it seem the biggest thing on earth. Nothing else matters, everything centres on that one interest. And if it's you that's the interest – wow!'

‘But if he drops you – '

‘
When
he drops you, then it's the end of the world. It was for me. This attack here, it'll be because of some woman whose world has crumbled around her.'

 • • • 

Alan and Katy very much wanted to go together to see Mehjabean that evening, but they weren't happy at leaving the refuge unstaffed.

‘I suppose it doesn't matter,' said Alan to Charlie, ‘with all
the policemen around. But if anybody comes looking for a room, it gives a terrible impression.'