When I Was Invisible (18 page)

I felt a little better now that I'd had the chance to brush my teeth and have a wash, change my underwear and generally ‘freshen up' after another night spent walking the streets. When I'd got off the coach, I had followed the crowd as much as possible, assuming they were heading for the city centre. I had passed over a canal and had paused to watch the waterway disappear in both directions. Like the trains at Victoria station, I loved watching rivers and canals, seas and oceans. I loved the idea of them bringing people near and taking them far away.

I'd continued down, walking quickly to try to catch up with the people who had got off the coach. The numbers had dwindled, people branching off in different directions, heading somewhere they needed to be, seeing people they wanted to see, pressing on with the plan they'd had when they'd got on the coach. My plan had consisted of getting away from London before Todd could track me down, and that was it.

The first time I'd run away from home I had planned it meticulously and I'd known where I would be going. I had saved so hard for nearly two years, every single penny that I'd earned, I'd saved. I had walked to school instead of buying a bus pass, I'd delivered papers before school, worked lots of shifts in cafés at the weekend, got a supermarket job for evenings I didn't have ballet class or individual lessons. I had been organised, focused only on escape.

This time, I'd had no plan, no idea where I was. I'd chosen Birmingham because it was a big city and in all the time I'd been with Todd, we'd never gone there. Brighton, Liverpool, Leeds, Manchester, Glasgow, Aberdeen, York, we'd been and stayed there, had gone out with friends there. But Birmingham, we'd never so much as gone through, so I'd known that was the place to be. He was less likely to know people there and I was less likely to bump into anyone either of us knew. That was my hope, anyway.

Once I'd hit Birmingham city centre and all the people from the coach station had dispersed, I'd wandered around a bit, trying to take in the area, trying to physically learn the lay of the land – which streets were narrow and awkward, which were cobblestoned, which had beautiful old buildings that rose up into the sky like gentle giants, watching over the city. I'd had no idea where I was going, but I'd walked. As I'd walked, the sky had rubbed out its blue colour with black as night had approached, and I'd seen more and more of the previously invisible people. In the archways of buildings, in the doorways of shops, beside cashpoints, in or near the park. I'd walked and watched, knowing that I had to stay awake, find out where things were, see what the city was like before I found myself somewhere to stay.
Where are all the women?
I had asked myself more than once as I'd continued my walking vigil around Birmingham city centre.
Why can't I see any women sleeping out on the streets? Is it too dangerous for them out here? Or are they doing what I had to do: weighing up which is more deadly – sleeping on the street or sleeping in a bed with the man you are supposed to love?

Part of me knew I was being ridiculous when I thought about Todd like that; after all, there was nothing he could do. Yet, most of me was terrified of him. Of what he could convince other people of. I knew from past experience that even the people closest to you wouldn't necessarily believe you when you asked them for help, so why on Earth would the police believe me? And seriously, what was I going to tell them he'd done to me which meant I needed their protection? That he'd bought me clothes that he wanted me to wear? He'd paid for me to be driven everywhere? That'd he'd recorded me? That he would control how much of his money I had access to? That he made it difficult for me to get a job or to have friends? The only thing that could possibly be taken seriously by them, would maybe cast him in a bad light, was that he regularly had sex with me whether I wanted him to or not. Even then, I knew they would blame me. They wouldn't boldly say it, but would ask me questions that would tell me they blamed me, they held me more responsible for what he did than him. They wouldn't outright say it, but there would be questions:
‘Why didn't you walk away?' ‘If it was so awful, with the money, the clothes, the expensive gym membership, the car service and staying in luxury hotels, why didn't you just leave?' ‘He's not a mind reader, so why didn't you just tell him that you didn't want to have sex?' ‘He didn't physically trap you in the house, did he? So why didn't you just leave?'

How did you explain to people who only dealt in things that were legal and illegal, people who had no idea what it was like living with him, that I didn't know how to leave? That I was scared to. That he had made me so convinced that it was all down to me, I kept thinking that there would be some way to change myself that would stop him treating me how he treated me. In the eyes of the law, all he did was provide me a lovely, easy life, and
quid pro quo
, he should get something in return – even if that ‘something' was sex that I didn't want, sex that was breaking little pieces of my soul every time it was forced on me.

Who would understand that?

And who would understand if I verbalised that for the last year or so, at the back of my head, I'd had a feeling, an uneasy, unformed sense that Todd was going to kill me. If I said that, though, to the police – to anyone – they would laugh in my face and tell me I was being silly. But the way he had worked so hard to make my life extremely small, the way he had managed to twist the changes
he
was meant to make into changes
I
had to make, the way he'd been able to control what I did and who I saw without ever shouting at or hitting me, had made me think he would annihilate me before he let me walk away from him. That feeling, of being in danger, had settled at the back of my mind like a contented cat settled on a fleece rug beside a roaring fire. It had been there, mostly sleeping and mostly undisturbed, but the fire had been constantly stoked by the things Todd did, the quiet little violences he'd committed against me, and the cat would be roused, would stretch itself out and would prowl around for a little while to remind me how precarious my situation was.

After my wash, I sat in the main part of the library in front of a computer. I was trying to find homeless shelters, somewhere I could sleep at night, and then I would be able to look for a job during the day. I was so tired, my feet were sore from walking and walking, I had no idea where anything was even though I had bought a guidebook and an
A–Z
and I had walked so far in the last few hours.

The library was warm, full of books, which for some reason made me feel secure, and there was a music section where I could go to listen to music once I'd done this. I was hoping I would be able to find a quiet corner, maybe get an hour's sleep. No one would bother me here. And then, find a shelter for the night, just somewhere to stay where I wouldn't have to pay. The money I had wouldn't last very long – I had to be very, very careful with it.

There were a few shelters, but none of the information was very clear about how you got in there, if you could just turn up, if they were closed during the day, if they had showers. I needed a shower: the wash downstairs had been refreshing, but not enough. My body wanted to be properly cleansed. Who knew that I should have appreciated every shower I had, especially one I could programme to my exact temperature requirements, because I wouldn't know when I'd get the next one? In the notebook I'd bought earlier along with the soap, flannel, toothpaste and pen, I noted down the addresses of the shelters.
If I can get to sleep tonight, even for a few hours, I'll be able to get up early in the morning, grab the local paper, walk around newsagents', see if there are any jobs vacant cards up, see if there is any way I can afford a house share.
I had looked at B&Bs: one night would eat into a huge chunk of my money. Under the list of shelters on my notepad, I listed youth hostels. Again, it was money, but not as expensive as B&Bs, and it'd be a place to have a shower, regroup. Maybe make a few friends. Todd had been keen for me to have no friends, so maybe that's what I needed. I'd been wary of people in the past; maybe I should start to trust them.

Once I finished on the computer, I got up and walked down the vast, red-carpeted walkway beside the desk space, heading for one of the upper levels. Upstairs, I was sure I would find a place to sit quietly. It was such a huge space, no one would notice me hanging around for a bit.

‘Love, love, it's time to go.' The woman's voice was kind, lilted with a strong Birmingham accent, as she tried to wake me up. I sat up, suddenly, realising I'd fallen asleep in a public place. I checked my bag, cradled like a baby under my arm, first of all. Nothing had been disturbed, I didn't think. My money was safe.

‘Sorry,' I said to her. I stood up and was immediately taller than her. She was a slight, small woman – only the oval of her friendly-but-concerned face was on show because of the black hijab she wore. ‘Sorry,' I said again.

‘No, it's all right, love,' she said. ‘I'm sorry to have to wake you. The library's closing, though, so you have to go.'

‘Thank you, sorry.' Closing time? I obviously hadn't woken up after an hour as planned; it'd probably be too late to find a youth hostel or shelter now.

‘Do you have somewhere to go?' she asked. Her voice was kind, gentle, as though trying not to scare me.

Is it that obvious?
I'd been homeless for two days, only one of them in this city – did it show that quickly that I was of no fixed abode? Or was it the sleeping in a library that gave me away? Or … horror of horrors, did I smell? Did the lack of a shower for two days prove that I had nowhere to go? I quickly clamped my arms down to close up my armpits.

‘Erm, I'm kind of new to the city,' I told her with a glance at her name badge: ‘Nikki B', it read. The name I'd fled from. The first person to notice me, to see me, in Birmingham was a Nikki, but she was a real one.

‘You know, I might be speaking out of turn here, but there are a couple of day centres not far from here. You can go there during the day, get tea or coffee, a couple of times a week they have hot food and you can often have a sit down and sleep if you need to. They also help you with CVs and finding a job and the like. You might not need a place like that, but if you do, there are a couple of leaflets downstairs you can pick up on the way out.'

She smiled at me and I wanted to throw my arms around her. To cry and tell her thank you, to sob and say that the fact she'd spoken to me, had noticed me, had actually seen that I was a human being, meant so much right now. I'd disappeared with Todd, I had to disappear again to make sure I got away from him, but it didn't seem such a hardship if nice people saw me, spoke to me.

‘Thank you,' I said quietly.

‘You can come back here any time you want to, though,' she said. ‘The library's for everyone. No one's going to throw you out just for being here.'

‘Thank you,' I said to her again. Mumbled it actually. I would probably cry if I said anything else.

‘You're more than welcome. Like I said, you're welcome back any time.'

At the door, which she had to use a key to open to let me out, she told me good luck with everything and that she hoped to see me again. Then, she asked me my name.

‘My name?' I replied. ‘Grace. Grace Carter.'

‘I'm sorry, without ID I can't let you stay here,' the lady at the desk of the latest youth hostel I had tried said.

‘But I don't have any,' I pleaded with her. ‘I lost it all.'

The woman had a badly done curly perm, and a face set in a permanent sneer. Actually, she probably didn't, but she seemed to be sneering at me. I wanted to guarantee a night where I didn't have to walk and walk and walk. I had blisters developing, my socks were rubbing at the edges of my toenails. I just wanted to sleep for the night. It would use up a bit of my money, but I didn't care. The real Nikki in the library had given me hope. Talking to her, being seen by her, made me realise that maybe I could try doing things the normal way, maybe I would be OK. It was completely magical thinking, as it turned out, because this was the third place that had turned me away because I didn't have anything to prove who I was. ‘I'll pay in advance,' I said to her. ‘Leave a deposit?'

‘I'm sorry, I can't. It's not worth my job. I'm sorry.'

I sighed, my whole body suddenly heavy and tired. Weary. I'd used that word before but had never properly felt it. Never until then. ‘I just want somewhere to sleep tonight,' I said to myself. I said it out loud so I could hear if it sounded like something ridiculous, something so outlandish that I shouldn't even hope to have that wish granted.

‘I know.' The woman's whole demeanour softened a little. ‘I can't let you in without any ID, though. Do you really have nothing? Not even a cash card?'

I shook my head. I had nothing. The credit cards, cash cards and key to Todd's flat were inside my expensive, designer-label purse, left sitting in a bin in London Victoria before I boarded the coach. This was a reminder, though, that I couldn't get anything without ID. I would find it hard to do anything without proper confirmation that I was now Grace Carter.

Not many people knew my proper name, Veronika Harper, but I couldn't be sure who was looking for me, what sorts of systems were going to be flagged up if I tried to use that name. It would only be for a few months, until Todd got bored and realised that I wasn't going to reveal all about him, until he found someone else to start over on, but it was going to be a hard few months if I needed ID.

‘Look, the only thing I can suggest is you come back when you've got proper ID? Yes?'

‘Yes, yes, of course,' I said. ‘Of course.'

It was all very well calling myself Grace Carter, but if I couldn't prove it, it meant nothing, did it?