Bleed for Me (27 page)

‘You’l have to talk to Gordon.’

‘Was he home that night?’

‘Yes.’

‘You sound very sure.’

‘It was my birthday. He bought me flowers and made me dinner.’ She unlocks her car, fumbling with the keys, almost dropping her purse.

‘Your birthday - that’s lovely. How many candles did he put on your birthday cake?’

Her head turns and she peers at me with a cold fury that lays something to waste inside of me. Her voice comes out in a dry rasp.

‘Stay away from my family!’

28

Julianne and Emma turn the corner. Emma is wearing a wool en hat with ear-flaps that tie under her chin.

Tugging at her mother’s arm, she complains that she’l be late.

‘And whose fault is that?’ says Julianne. ‘Next time, get out of bed when I tel you to. And get dressed . . . and eat your breakfast . . . and brush your teeth . . . and put on your shoes.’

Emma spies me and runs into my arms. I try to lift her above my head and get about halfway. She’s getting too big to be thrown into the air.

Julianne wants to know what’s wrong, but she doesn’t ask. She’l wait until Emma is in school. We both get a hug goodbye and a wave at the gate. Emma milks every moment, turning and waving, turning and waving.

‘What’s up?’ asks Julianne.

‘I didn’t know Charlie had been babysitting for Gordon El is.’

The statement sounds too much like an accusation. Straight away, she raises her defences.

‘What’s the problem?’

‘I don’t want Charlie in his house. I don’t want her alone with him.’

‘You’re not making any sense.’

‘We can’t talk here.’

Pul ing her further along the street, away from the school, we stop at a picnic table near the green, overlooking the church. A car with a blown muffler rumbles around the corner and I feel my heart race.

‘OK. Now what’s this about?’

I tel her about my trip to Edinburgh, about Caro Regan’s disappearance and Gordon El is marrying a former student, a schoolgirl, and moving away.

‘Natasha El is is barely eighteen. She was sixteen when she married and only thirteen when she met Gordon.’

‘What about Bil y?’

‘He’s not Natasha’s son. Caro Regan disappeared the day before Bil y’s second birthday. That was four years ago. She hasn’t contacted her family or tried to see Bil y, or applied for welfare or withdrawn money from an account. The police think she’s dead.’

Julianne’s fingers rise to her face, partial y concealing her mouth.

‘And they think Gordon . . . ?’

‘Yes.’

‘Does the school know?’

‘Ray Hegarty saw Gordon El is kissing Sienna and made a complaint to the school, but the al egation was dismissed because Sienna denied it. I talked to Mr Stozer on Monday but he cal ed it a misunderstanding and a harmless schoolgirl crush. He’s wrong. I think Gordon El is was sleeping with Sienna.’

‘You said she was pregnant!’

‘Yes.’

‘You have to tel the police.’

‘I need Sienna to confirm it.’

Julianne turns her head and glances back towards the school. Her tone softens. ‘Are you sure you’re right about this?’

‘Even if I’m wrong, I don’t want Charlie going anywhere near El is.’

‘Do I stop her going to school?’

‘No.’

I hesitate, not wanting to frighten her. How much should I say? Should I tel her that someone ran me off the road - or about what happened to Gunsmoke? This is why she left me.

Every time I get involved in a case like this the stakes become too high.

‘Are you taking your medication?’ she asks, looking at me closely.

‘Yes.’

A hand reaches towards me and her fingers brush against my cheek. Then she steps closer and puts her arms around me, pul ing my head to her chest. I stay very quiet, listening to her heart beating. Then suddenly step back, breaking contact with her.

‘What’s wrong?’ she asks.

‘Nothing.’

‘Have I upset you?’

‘I’m fine. I just don’t think we should . . .’

‘Should what?’

She’s waiting. I can’t look at her face.

‘Every time you touch me it feels as though you’re leaving me al over again.’

‘That’s not my fault, Joe.’

‘I know.’

She looks at my expression and understands that something has altered between us. Turning her head, she gazes at the bare limbs of the oak trees in the churchyard.

‘I have to go. I’m due in court. You’re going to fix this.’

‘I’m going to try.’

She spins and walks away, stepping around the puddles. Perhaps it’s my imagination, but I think I glimpse a flash of wetness in her eyes.

29

Oakham House looks different today, blurred at the edges and bleached into monotones like an old black-and-white film. A sea mist is shrouding the whitecaps and obscuring where the sea meets the land. Only the pine trees stand out darkly, bedraggled and scabrous, like a silent army massing on the ridges, ready to invade.

I get lost trying to find the same lounge as before. Sienna is in her favourite place, sitting on the windowsil .

Elsewhere in the same room, an overweight teenager with apple cheeks moves between pieces of furniture, picking lint from the sofas and rearranging the cushions. He has a leather helmet on his head, strapped beneath his chin. Another youth is playing chess with himself, moving his chair to the opposite side of the table before making each move.

The one cleaning reaches the game and unexpectedly picks up the white queen, polishing it with his rag.

‘For fuck’s sake, Trevor, leave my queen alone.’

Trevor sheepishly replaces the piece and grabs another. The player tries to retrieve it, chasing him around the table.

‘Do that again and I’l deck you, Trevor.’

Sienna has continued staring out the window. Her shoulder blades look like stunted wings beneath her clothes. She turns at the sound of my voice and gives me a tired smile. Then she spends a moment watching the chase until Trevor is cornered and surrenders the chess piece.

‘Trevor is our resident clown,’ she explains. ‘The rest of them are mad, but he’s just an idiot.’

‘Why doesn’t he speak?’

‘He doesn’t have a tongue. He bit it off.’ She leans closer and whispers, ‘They say his entire family died in a plane crash and Trevor was the only survivor. They found him strapped in his seat surrounded by dead people. Imagine that. You can see what it’s done to him.’ She twirls her finger close to her ear.

‘Why does he wear a helmet?’

‘To keep his brains from fal ing out.’

She makes it sound so obvious.

Trevor goes back to dusting and rearranging pil ows. Sienna swings her legs off the windowsil and sits on a sofa.

‘Do you want to play poker? Nobody else wil play with me.’

‘Why?’

‘Because I always win.’

‘You sound very confident.’

‘It’s true. People try to bluff me, but I can tel .’

She separates her knees and pushes her dress between them to form a hammock. My left arm swings of its own initiative and almost hits her. Sienna flinches.

‘What was that?’

‘Just a tremor. No need to worry.’

‘You could be a real y good poker player - al that twitching and squirming. People wouldn’t know if you had four aces or sweet FA.’

I laugh out loud and her face brightens. Then she shrugs and tilts her head. ‘I like you.’

‘Why’s that?’

‘You’re kind of broken.’

The statement rattles something in my chest.

‘I’m not the one in here.’

Again she shrugs. ‘Do you have a cigarette?’

‘You’re too young to smoke.’

‘It’s not for me. I can swap a cigarette for other stuff.’

‘Such as?’

‘Cans of drink and chocolate bars and stuff.’

On the far side of the lounge Trevor has stopped in front of the TV and is singing along to a commercial for a breakfast cereal.

‘I thought you said he bit off his tongue.’

Sienna looks at me sheepishly. ‘It’s a miracle.’

She quickly changes the subject. ‘Are you going to get divorced?’

‘I’m here to talk about you.’

‘Charlie wants you to get back together.’

‘I know.’

‘Why did you separate?’

‘It’s complicated.’

‘The shaking business?’

‘No.’

‘Why?’

‘Julianne didn’t like who I’d become.’

Now the TV is showing a reporter on the steps of Bristol Crown Court. The camera cuts to a police helicopter flying low over the courthouse and images of police on horseback forcing back protesters.

Sienna glances at the screen. ‘Is that where I’m going?’

‘Yes.’

‘I didn’t do anything wrong.’

‘It would help if you told the truth.’

‘The world is ful of liars.’

‘That’s not an excuse.’

Her skin is so translucent I can see the veins running down her neck.

‘Did you know you were pregnant?’

Her eyes widen. Something sparks inside them. Fear. Shock. She looks at me with unexpected coldness.

‘I’m not pregnant.’

‘But you were. The doctors can tel .’

Holding my gaze for a moment, she calculates her next move, before slumping back on to the sofa.

‘Who was the father? I know it wasn’t Danny.’

She pul s strands of hair across her forehead and down between her eyes.

‘It doesn’t matter any more.’

‘Who are you protecting?’

‘No one.’

‘Tel me about Gordon El is.’

Sienna hesitates.

‘I babysit for him. Gordon has a little boy, Bil y. He’s such an angel. You should see him sleeping. He has a Tigger that he takes everywhere with him. He’s chewed off Tigger’s tail and ears so that it looks like a genetic mutant, but Bil y guards Tigger like nobody’s business. I made Tigger a new tail and sewed it on. Bil y didn’t say a thing. It’s like he thought Tigger had always had a tail and it had never been chewed off.’

Sienna doesn’t want to stop talking because she fears the next question. Eventual y she has to draw breath.

‘Did Gordon El is rape you?’

‘No!’

‘Was he the father?’

She doesn’t answer.

‘Were you sleeping with him?’

Again she remains silent, but her reaction is one of defiance. She’s not ashamed or embarrassed.

‘Do you love him?’

‘Yes.’ A whisper.

‘Tel me how it started.’

‘You wouldn’t understand.’

She is stil toying with her hair, pul ing it along her nose, making herself cross-eyed.

‘Explain it to me.’

‘You’re going to say bad things about Gordon. I know what you’re thinking. You think he’s done something wrong.’

‘I’m trying to help you.’

‘No, you’re not. You’re trying to break us up. You’re trying to drive him away!’

She spits the words, turning them into accusations. Lashing out with her foot, she kicks a chair, sending it skidding across the polished floor, where it cannons into the wal . Sienna shrinks at the noise and looks up at me apologetical y.

‘How old are you?’

‘Forty-nine.’

‘Do you think there is a proper age for people to fal in love?’

‘I think you have to be old enough to understand what love is.’

‘My mum said that some people never understand love.’

‘That may be true, Sienna, but some relationships are wrong. Gordon El is is your teacher. It’s against the law.’

She smiles to herself. ‘You don’t understand. It’s going to be al right.’

‘Why?’

‘Because love always finds a way.’

‘Where is he, this person who loves you so much? He’s left you here to take the blame.’

‘No, he hasn’t. He’s going to rescue me.’

‘He denies having any relationship with you.’

‘He
has
to do that.’

‘He says you’re a foolish infatuated teenager who imagined it al .’

‘He
has
to say that.’

‘Did you know that Gordon was married once before? His first wife disappeared. Bil y’s mum. She walked out, according to Gordon, but she hasn’t been seen since. She hasn’t contacted her parents or friends. She hasn’t tried to see Bil y. Don’t you think that’s strange?’

Sienna has fal en silent.

‘Gordon met Natasha when she was stil at school. She was about your age. He was her teacher.’

‘This is different.’

‘How is it different?’

‘He loves me.’

‘Did he tel you that?’

She doesn’t answer.

‘Did he tel you that he was going to leave Natasha, but only when you’re older?’

‘You don’t understand him.’

‘Oh, but I do. I’ve seen a lot of sexual predators.’

‘TAKE THAT BACK!’ she screams, on her feet. ‘YOU DON’T KNOW HIM LIKE I DO. HE COULD HAVE ANY GIRL HE WANTS, BUT HE CHOSE ME.’

Her words come in a hot rush of snot and tears.

‘NOBODY HAD EVER CHOSEN ME. NEVER. NOT ONCE.’

From the far side of the room, the chess player looks up and puts a finger to his lips, asking for quiet. Sienna pul s a face at him and then shrugs, her anger dissipating into a sul en silence. Resuming her seat, she squeezes her hands between her thighs. Her narrow chest rises and fal s.

‘I know exactly how he made you feel.’

She doesn’t respond.

‘Do you remember the first day he smiled at you? He wasn’t like the other teachers. You thought he was handsome. Charming. That’s why you blushed when he looked at you and laughed when he told you jokes. You flirted with him. It was innocent. And he reciprocated. He asked about the book you were reading. Talked about your acting. I bet he commented on your curls. You said that you wanted straight hair, but he said he liked your curls and that straight hair was boring.

‘Soon you found excuses to spend time with him, hanging back after class or arriving early. You could talk to him. He listened. You told him about your father, your problems at home, how lonely you felt once your brother and sister had gone. You talked about not belonging in your family - how you felt like you’d been adopted. Did you cry on his shoulder? Did he tel you that he understood?’

‘Stop it,’ she whispers.

‘Pretty soon you were sneaking looks at each other in class and sharing private jokes that none of the other students understood. Gordon left smal presents in your locker, treats that he knew you’d find. He found excuses to brush against you and to bend over your desk in class. It felt sweet, exciting, not at al weird or wrong.’