Sleepwalkers (9 page)

‘Can we go back to school, please, Miss? Don’t want Dad to …’

He didn’t need to finish the sentence. Anna led him back along the bridge. Toby walked stiffly, his injuries hurting more all of a sudden. As they walked, Anna stopped, seeing something glisten in a puddle, and she leaned down to pick it up. She peered at it.

‘Well, look at that,’ she said.

Toby’s eyes widened. She was staring at his tiny camera, the one he’d attached to his belt the night before, holding it up to the light, staring at it unknowingly. ‘I thought it was just a button.’

Toby’s mouth twitched with surprise and excitement. He reached out and took the camera from her – she handed it over without question – and he stared at it in his open palm,
cold and wet. She had found it and had not hidden it from him. This woman, who none of the other kids cared about or noticed, had uncovered the proof that he’d been searching for. He lunged at her, hugging her tight without explanation. And he didn’t let go.

‘Okay Toby. Toby, that’s enough now.’

But he didn’t move. He knew he’d have to tell her more soon enough and wondered what this might mean for her. But while he could, for that tiny fantastic moment, he would hold her and not let go.

*

The drive back to school was quiet. Anna glanced at Toby, waiting for him to tell her more, but he just stared out of the window, a dreamy smile on his face. Eventually, her curiosity and frustration won over.

‘Toby. I don’t understand. What happened back there?’

But he was just grinning to himself, whispering something over and over. She finally worked out that he was saying
I knew it, I knew it, I knew it
.

‘Toby.’

He stopped, looked at her.

‘Toby, you need to tell people about this. It’ll carry on if you don’t. We’ll do it together.’ The idea seemed to scare him. ‘You trust me, don’t you?’

‘Yeah, yeah, of course. I mean, you found the camera and there’s no way you’d have shown me it, if you weren’t …’

‘If I wasn’t …?

He sighed. ‘People don’t believe me.’

‘Well, we’ll make them. We’ll show them your scars.’

‘Won’t make no difference.’

‘I’ll make sure.’

‘Yeah. But then something will happen and then they don’t want to know.’

‘That’s what’s happened before?’

‘Yeah.’

‘Well, this time it’ll be different. I won’t let you get hurt any more. I won’t.’

‘Thank you,’ Toby said with a smile that blinked and died. ‘But I don’t think you get what this is.’

‘I think I’ve got an idea.’

‘No, this is just some kid and some cuts to you.’

‘It’s more than that, it’s about you being safe about people not—’

‘No, no, you don’t get it at all.’

‘So tell me.’

‘I … okay … but you won’t …’

‘
Toby
.’

‘I bet you think—’

The blast of a police siren jolted them. The car was right there, close, like it had been stalking them for miles. It flashed its lights: pull up. Anna did so. But as she turned off the engine and turned to Toby she was surprised to see that he was white with fear.

‘Toby? What’s the matter?’

A gloved hand banged on the window by her face and they both jumped. The glove gestured for her to roll down the window and as she did so, a tall policeman in uniform leaned down, his face close to hers. He was gaunt, with greying cropped hair. His skin was newly shaven and his uniform perfectly clean and pressed. He looked at Anna then at Toby, with a slow stare like a scanner.

‘Yes, officer?’ Anna mustered.

‘Toby Mayhew?’ His voice was sharp, clipped.

Toby nodded.

‘Get out of the car, son, I’m taking you home.’

‘No, it’s alright officer, I’m his teacher—’

The man’s cold eyes shut her up. Then he looked back at Toby.

‘Come on, lad, your mother’s worried senseless.’

Anna tried again. ‘But there’s nothing to worry about—’

‘Toby,’ he snapped and the boy unbuttoned the seat belt and bolted from the car.

A second police car pulled up in front of Anna’s, and Toby went to it. As it drove off, Anna saw that the policeman was still staring at her. But now his face betrayed a nasty leer.

‘So,’ he said.

‘Look, officer—’

‘You pick up a kid without his parents’ permission—’

‘I didn’t “pick up a kid”. I’m his teacher.’

‘Take him for a nice drive, miles from home. I’m not sure that’s allowed, is it?’

‘This is crazy.’

‘Get out of the car, Anna.’

A cold spike stabbed at her. How did he know her name?

‘Where are we going?’ she asked, not managing to hide her unease.

‘You’ll see.’ He smiled. His teeth had a yellowish tint.

‘No, thank you. I don’t want to.’

He moved closer and she could smell the remnants of the morning’s aftershave.

‘Which station are you attached to?’ she stammered.

‘Get out of the car, Anna.’

‘No.’ She found some control in her voice. ‘I want your name and police number. Please.’

‘I’m sure you do.’ He straightened, smirked. ‘Take care, Anna.’

The policeman walked back to his car, got in and drove off. Anna watched the car turn at the end of the road and waited fearfully for it to return. She opened the glove compartment and reached for the packet of cigarettes that she’d resisted for so long, but then found she couldn’t strike the match properly because her hands were shaking too much. Another nervy glance in the mirror, but the car was gone and not coming back.

She looked back at the seat where Toby had been sitting. The tiny button camera was all that remained. It was some sort of proof, but not understanding what it meant only worried her more. She felt as though a door had been opened somewhere. She could feel its chill wind and hear the distant cries, but she couldn’t work out what they were saying. She didn’t want to know. But the chill wouldn’t go away. The door would not shut.

They always tidy up after them. Always. Carrie remembered this as she came back down the stairs. The house was silent again. The van they’d bundled Ben into had arrived without a sound and was gone minutes later. It was her scream that had woken Emma, not their arrival nor the way they slipped him out into the dark. Tidy and polite. She couldn’t imagine them screaming. But she had. And she knew that she’d be in trouble for it.

She knew she’d be in trouble, and it bothered her as she hurried up the stairs and soothed Emma back to sleep with kisses and lies. But when she came downstairs the house was still. The picture frames on the wall were restraightened, the rug on the floor was back in its place, the door shut and locked. Her heart could pound as hard as it liked, they had made everything normal again. She made herself a coffee just to give herself something to do. Someone would be over soon and she’d need to be sharp for them. Sure enough, she heard a key turn in the lock only ten minutes later and Diane slipped inside with a cheery smile and a stage whisper.

‘Congratulations! You did it, you made it to the end!’ She hugged Carrie tightly before hanging her coat on the back of the door and heading for the fridge to pour herself a juice. Carrie tried not to let this irritate her. They all had keys, and the way they behaved in the house made the message clear – this wasn’t her home. The house was a shared space, owned by the Company for everyone’s use. Carrie might spend more time here than the others, but she should never forget its true purpose. She’d been told often enough.

Diane wore a fitted skirt and white blouse which would look equally fine in the office or a wine bar. She perched herself on the edge of a battered armchair. She was a plain woman in her fifties with slightly wonky teeth. But she dressed well and had an expensive haircut. The combination could make you describe her as handsome.

‘Bet you’re relieved. How long? Six years?’

‘Six in May.’

‘Amazing. No one thought it would last so long. I heard Brian talking about it only a week ago. They normally blow up after a year, max. Angela had one recently who went totally bananas in the first week! The first bloody week!’ Diane chortled and then glugged down the juice in one go.

Carrie shrugged. She felt exhausted all of a sudden but she’d never felt comfortable enough with Diane to crash out onto the sofa. It was the way Diane would run her eyes over you and the room with that calculating smile. She was always evaluating things, as if everything were an equation to be solved, a deal to be brokered.

‘Don’t be coy, darling. He only lasted so long because you were so brilliant. Watching the tapes, seeing the way you’d
stop him worrying, the way you’d limit his thinking, it was stunning work. We’ll be using a lot of it for training sessions. Transcripts and videos – it’s a masterclass.’ Diane smiled again, but her eyes were locked on the kids’ cards which were stacked up on the window sill. World’s Best Dad. Then her eyes returned to Carrie.

‘Thank you,’ Carrie replied warily.

Diane reached down to the smart leather bag she always had with her, and Carrie remembered their very first meeting. She was the initial point of contact all those years ago, after Carrie had answered the vaguely worded article in the local paper – something about smart, adventurous people with a purpose. She’d been impressed and intimidated by Diane way back then. Carrie had sat on her hands, trying to hide her chipped nails, feeling increasingly self-conscious about her short denim skirt which she’d tugged down as low as it would go over her bare legs. She’d listened with wide eyes at the way this cool, professional woman chatted to her as though they’d been mates for years. Back then, Carrie was a chancer, living off the dole and faking benefits, moving from man to man until they ran out of money or hit her, or both. She had eyed the classy, expensive jewellery on Diane’s fingers and wrists, and felt a little giddy as this posh, educated woman held her eye and told her of her company’s ambitions. For Carrie, it was an escape from a grubby life which only promised worse to come.

That first meeting in the cafe lasted about half an hour. Carrie had many more over the next few months and it only dawned on her later that Diane had left with plenty of details about Carrie without giving any back in return. After that
there had been some odd events: a man who had been chasing her for money disappeared, and someone broke into her flat (spotted by the neighbours) but didn’t steal a thing although she had two hundred pounds behind the boiler, which was where everyone hid their cash.

But Carrie hadn’t given it much thought. Life back then was always chaotic and would shove shit at you whenever it fancied. Maybe that was why she was so impressed with Diane. She seemed untouchable. She read the posh newspapers and left generous tips without scraping around for money from back pockets. She would appear at odd moments, never ringing in advance, wanting to know more, congratulating Carrie for passing an unknown test or informing her that she was now on a shortlist; always tantalising. Diane was her new drug, and Carrie became more and more obsessed with saying the right thing, with being the right sort of person in order to please her and continue these meetings. She started to speak differently when she was around Diane. She lost the harsher tones of her accent and let her hair grow back to its natural colour. She would hold a wine glass the same way Diane did, at the stem rather than clutching it tight in case someone tried to steal it.

Eventually, Diane took her into the offices of the Company, sat her down at a long polished table, and told her that her life could change forever. The choice was hers. If she wanted to continue with the project, she would have to say goodbye to any family and friends and break all contact with her past life. ALL contact. Diane wanted her to realise how significant this was, but she was too excited at the idea of a new future to pay proper attention to Diane’s concerns. Her parents were
dead and she barely spoke to her estranged sister; her friends were just grifters and takers who she’d drink with one day and fight with the next. Leaving her shabby life behind would be no hardship at all. She signed every document without reading a word.

Now, as Carrie watched Diane reaching into her bag to retrieve more paperwork, she felt a stab of worry about what she had actually signed back then. She’d been dumb not to take them to a lawyer but, thinking back on it, she seemed to remember Diane hinting that this wasn’t an option. She prided herself on her street sense and natural cunning – it had got her through the countless tests they’d put her through after all – so she’d signed away. But now she felt coldly exposed and didn’t exactly know why. It made her feel stupid again, as though she were wearing that frayed denim skirt once more. Three months ago she’d thought she’d seen Leanne, an old mucker with whom she’d stolen and snorted. If it was Leanne, then time hadn’t been kind. She walked with an unsteady, fragile step, like a beaten dog, and when she looked up at Carrie as they passed, her eyes had shown no flicker of recognition. But then Carrie would hardly recognise herself any more. Her performance was so complete she could hold Diane’s eye without betraying a single true emotion.

Diane flicked through various documents. ‘Okay, so … all this is just to tie things up now that the project’s over,’ she said. ‘You know what they’re like over at Head Office. Now, is it a C33 or a D12 you need?’

‘It’s definitely done, then?’

Diane looked up, a questioning smile on her face.

‘Well, I wondered if he was, you know, fixable,’ Carrie stammered. ‘Maybe you could wipe his memory, start again.’

‘Oh, no he’s finished. Once they flip like that, there’s no coming back. It’s not fair on you, you’re always going to be wondering if he’ll go again. No, that one’s run its course. It’s company policy.’

Diane flicked through a document, muttered something, then chose a different one. She wandered over and laid it out on the kitchen table.

‘Sign there. And then let’s have a glass of wine.’ She handed Carrie a pen. It felt heavy in her hand and she allowed it to roll in her palm for a moment before signing the paper. Diane whisked it away and returned it to her bag. ‘Someone will be over later to do some drugs tests, you know the routine. Doesn’t mean you can’t have some wine, though. I’d have stopped off to get some champagne but they always want you there within fifteen minutes of an incident.’ She snapped the bag shut. ‘It’s finally over! Can you believe it? Was it scary at the end? Must have been, what with the scream. That’s not like you.’ Diane glanced back as she walked towards the kitchen. ‘Wine in the fridge?’