Who Are You? (33 page)

‘Finished?’ Alex just looks at Mark coldly. He doesn’t want to listen to his self-indulgent whining. It’s excruciating, ridiculous. He feels ashamed of him. He can’t see the old Mark in there. He’s on the verge of telling Mark what a mistake he’s made in revisiting their ‘friendship’, in asking for his help; in following up on a fucking stupid bloody band of brothers vow made in a fucking desert, where they knew they would and could, very possibly, die for each other. And now here is the sad little git acting like some bloody nancy boy, going all touchy-feely. But he mustn’t. He’s got to keep Mark onside, because he needs him to keep in contact with Juliet so that Alex knows what she’s up to. And Mark has specialist knowledge of spy equipment and surveillance.

‘Listen, mate, I’m not saying that I’m any better than you are. I
know
who you are, Alex, because I
was
you. I love you, mate. I just don’t want you to fuck everything up the way I did.’ Alex feels his voice crack. It sounds like emotion, but it’s not, it’s suppressed rage. ‘You’re right.’ He stares at the ground, at their feet facing each other like weapons. ‘She’s OK. I should maybe take some responsibility.’ He can’t believe he’s saying this. ‘I should maybe have listened to her.’ Mark looks at Alex, the concern carved into his brow.

Alex goes over to Mark’s car and opens the door. Ben is just waking up. When he sees Alex he grins. ‘Daddy, where have you been? We went to a new house and I wanted you to be there. Are we going back to our old house now? Will we get Mummy?’

‘Shhh, Ben. Let me get you in the car first, OK?’ He turns to Mark. ‘I’ll be in touch.’ He shakes his hand. Alex is shocked to see something moist in Mark’s eye. Too much. Wanker, he thinks to himself. Fucking wanker.

‘Come on, let’s get you in the car.’ He closes the rear door and turns back to Mark who is watching him intently. ‘Thanks, mate, for everything. I appreciate it.’ Mark nods.

Alex fires up the engine, checks on Ben, and then pulls out of the lay-by without looking back at Mark.

*    *    *    *    *

Juliet’s phone pings with a new email alert: ‘I’ve got Ben. Alex.’

‘Oh Christ …’ she sobs aloud. ‘What the hell have I done? Ben … oh God … my poor darling Ben.’ She can’t breathe, she feels dizzy and nauseous. Her legs won’t hold her up. But all the while she is making her inner voice speak to her. ‘You’ve been through so much, don’t give in now. Think what you’ve survived … you can’t let him beat you now. What was it all for? Be strong! Hold it together. You have to be strong for Ben’s sake.’ She slows down her breathing, in: one, two, three; out: one, two, three … she wipes the excess saliva from the edges of her mouth. She pulls herself up from the floor, using a chair to steady herself.

Think. She must think. She must go through the options minutely, she must make sure she doesn’t do anything stupid, anything predictable. Her next moves will have been anticipated and planned for. Like a chess player, she feels already in check but if she manoeuvres carefully she might just be able to stay in the game. Don’t do the expected, she tells herself. Neither trust nor rely on anyone other than yourself. Alex is the warrior, but she’s a mother, and everyone knows how fiercely a mother can fight to protect her young.

Think, Juliet, she commands herself. The implications of discovering that Mark is Alex’s man are only just beginning to sink in. She’d been introduced to him through Claire, his sister – the person who called herself Lil’ Miss Happy online, the person who Juliet had been exchanging messages with in the forum for months … She was just one of those sock puppets – a person who was pretending to be someone else. It had to be Alex. And if it was Alex, then it meant that he knew everything she’d been doing, her thoughts, her plans. When she bared her soul, supposedly in the sanctity of the forum, he was there, lurking, watching her. Oh God, it’s all too much to take in. Fears for Ben and what she can do to get him back are all mixed up with trying to recollect the things that she said to Lil’ Miss Happy, trying to recollect the stuff she’s told
her.
What about the gang rapes? Wasn’t it Lil’ Miss Happy who said ‘no point in reporting stuff’ to the police? No bloody wonder. Well it’s damned well time to go to the police now.

Ben will be safe, she tells herself. There is no reason why he shouldn’t be. There is no point in Alex harming Ben. He will be fine. She must believe that Alex will look after him. She cannot allow herself to think beyond that.

Then her phone pings with a text from Mark. It doesn’t make any sense. ‘Don’t do anything. Just keep your phone near you.’ Don’t do anything? Who was
he
to tell
her
what to do? And how brain dead must he be to imagine she
wouldn’t
keep her phone near her at a time like this? What’s he want to do, call for a cosy chat?

*    *    *    *    *

At the police station in Brecon Juliet hops from one foot to the other waiting to talk to the man behind the glass. There are just two plastic chairs in the foyer and they are both occupied by burly men in cheap leather jackets, unshaven and looking very much the worse for wear. The woman in front of her has been involved in a domestic, as she puts it, the night before. Juliet can’t help but overhear. Her partner has been arrested. She wants to make it clear that she doesn’t want to press charges, that she has no injuries. Juliet sees her pale face, the deep dark circles underneath her eyes, and she wants to give her a hug. But all she can do is give her a vague, impersonal smile as she takes her place at the front of the queue.

‘I left my husband a few days ago because he became violent towards me. We have a five-year-old son. He was with me, and now he’s been kidnapped. I believe he’s with my husband. I’m very frightened for his safety.’

‘Take a seat, madam, and someone will be with you shortly.’ Juliet looks behind her. There are no seats to be taken. She hovers by the noticeboard, reading about women’s refuges, drugs helplines, childlines – like it was a pinboard designed just for her. She waits ages … well it seems like it. The minutes drag. Being here makes her feel even more helpless. Almost like some kind of criminal. She shifts her handbag onto her other shoulder, shifts the weight from her left foot to her right. She fiddles with the knot of hair on top of her head. She sighs. She wishes she smoked so that she’d have a reason to step outside. Eventually a woman PC arrives and invites her to follow into the inner sanctum. She is ushered into a room. The woman holds an A4 notepad and a couple of pens. Juliet can see this is going to take a very long time. Once again she explains the situation. Then the questions begin.

‘Did you report the violence …?’; ‘When was the last occasion …?’; Was your husband ever violent towards your son, to your knowledge …?’ Juliet answers truthfully, mostly. She mentions bruises on Ben that were suspicious. She mentions Ben’s nightmares. She mentions Alex’s PTSD symptoms, his unpredictability. She says she fears that her husband has suffered from suicidal thoughts. And the more she speaks the greater the fear spreads inside her. ‘Please,’ she starts to cry. ‘You must do something. You have to find them. Can you search for his car? His number plate? Don’t you have cameras everywhere?’

‘We have nothing on file against your husband. He has no criminal record, no official warnings. I’m afraid there’s nothing we can do without any hard evidence against him.’

‘Nothing you can do until it’s too late …’ Juliet is trying to hold back the sobs. She grabs hold of the woman’s hand. ‘Please …’

‘I really am sorry. As you can imagine, this is not an unusual situation, unfortunately. The only thing I can advise is that you go to a solicitor on Monday and try and get the wheels in motion. Perhaps you could apply for a non-molestation order. I’m sorry, it’s not my department. I advise that you go home and wait. If your husband has been violent towards you in the past, then it would be best to stay away from him until this is all sorted. I’m sure he won’t do anything to harm your son.’

Juliet gets up, nods. It’s hopeless. She’s on her own.

She returns to Mark’s cottage, goes upstairs and selects a bag, throws in some bare essentials. She has money, she can buy what she needs. She pulls out some old trainers which she used as running shoes a long time ago. She searches through the drawers in Ben’s room, pulling out warm clothing for him, just in case. Then she searches around any cupboards and drawers in the house to see if Mark has left anything she might find useful, like a weapon of some sort, but he is far too careful. She grabs the photograph album and stuffs it into the top of the bag. Then she sits down on the sofa, because she doesn’t know where she’s supposed to go. All she seems able to do is sit and watch her phone.

*    *    *    *    *

The road has barely changed since Alex drove along it with Juliet all those years ago. It’s getting dark and the sun is low, almost grazing the horizon ahead of them. There’s a beautiful sky slashed with red and orange, and deep grey shading the edges of the thickening cumulus clouds. Alex turns the heater up as the temperature drops quickly now, hovering around two degrees. He’s brought a two-man tent and a couple of Arctic sleeping bags. He’s got a stove, kettle, ration packs … Alex and Ben will pretend they’re on exercise together or maybe on operations. Alex has even brought his cam-cream. He’s excited about watching Ben’s face when he sees what Daddy has brought for him. A little mini-Alex uniform, complete with boots. And Alex has even got Ben’s guns so that he can play with them in a proper combat environment. He can see what it’s like to be a real soldier. Ben must be taught to endure the cold. It will give him chance to man up, to learn that if you’ve got the right equipment you can survive anything. Well, nearly anything. Ben’s fallen asleep now the DVD has finished. Alex has been watching him constantly via the rear-view mirror. In sleep he looks perfect; innocent, vulnerable, unsullied, un-screwed up, unlike his parents. But Alex knows how much looks can deceive. Alex doesn’t wake him. Funny, Alex has been looking forward to this first camping trip with his son since … well since possibly the day he was born. He hasn’t been old enough, Juliet has insisted. But now, well it’s not up to Juliet any more. The boys together. He’s got beers, he’s got whisky and he’s got a gun. Alex might even let Ben have a go.

When they pull over to the side of the track it’s hovering around freezing. Alex turns off the engine and kills the lights and waits for his eyes to adjust to the darkness. There is a moon three-quarters full spilling silvery light over the barren moorland. Ben’s eyes are open but he is yawning. It’s half-past six, and past his teatime. ‘Hungry’?

‘Where are we? I thought we were going back to our old house, Daddy.’

‘We’re in the Brecon Beacons, near a very high mountain called Pen y Fan. I often used to come here to train to be a soldier. How do you feel about playing soldiers with Daddy tonight?’

‘No thank you, Daddy. I’d like to go home with you and Mummy, and it’s dark outside, so we can’t do soldiers.’

‘That’s the best time to play.’

‘And it’s cold.’

‘Do you want to see what I’ve got for you?’ Ben yawns and nods, squirming as he stretches in his seat. Alex leans back and undoes the buckle. ‘There. I’ve just got to get it out of the boot.’ Alex climbs out of the car. The cold hits him sharply, like a slap on the face. His breath fogs in front of him. The hard ground is shaley and slippery as glass under his leather-soled shoes. The boot opens and the light illuminates the black, unmarked bag. He unzips it and pulls out clothes, socks, gloves, scarves, hats and boots. He selects Ben’s things and then opens the rear door and hands them in. ‘Here you are, big man. Can you put these on? They’ll keep you warm.’

Alex returns to the boot and starts pulling on his uniform. It’s been a while since he’s been in his green kit, but it feels natural and comfortable. With each item of clothing he can sense that he is becoming more and more the real Alex. The cold doesn’t feel quite as cold, nor the barrenness of the landscape quite so threatening. He’s done a 360-degree recce, but there are no lights. He has a military-strength torch with almost a 1,000- metre beam, and he knows it will pick up anything, or anybody, hiding in the rocks. Behind the tactical bag is a flat leather case. Alex touches it, as if to check that it is really there. Then he returns to Ben. He hasn’t moved from his seat. He’s obviously looked at the clothes, because they are scattered around him. The thick beanie hat on his lap, the padded combat jacket on the seat at the side of him. A boot in his hand. ‘Come on, Ben. Look lively. We’ll make a fire and have some food. I’ve got Coke for you.’

Alex helps Ben to get dressed. Once he’s outside the car, with his boots laced, his hat in place and his jacket tightly belted, he looks older than his five years. Alex gets his phone and takes a photograph. He briefly considers sending it to Juliet, decides against it, and then thinks fuck it … why not? So he pulls her out from contacts and presses send. Then he turns the phone off. Ben stamps his feet and waves his arms around. ‘Dad … it’s really, really cold. Can I get back in the car now?’

‘Don’t you want to help light the fire, and put the tent up?’

‘No. I want Mummy. I’m frightened cos it’s so scary here. I don’t like it.’

‘Shut up and do as you’re told.’ Alex’s voice is lower now, more of a growl. He has kindling and wood and charcoal. Everything that he needs to get a small fire going. He walks several paces away from the car towards a slight clearing semi- encircled by rocks. It will provide some shelter from the wind and the cold. ‘Get over here … where I can see you.’ Ben stumbles over to Alex’s side. ‘You’ve got to stay close to me, shall I tell you why? Because there was once a little boy called Tommy Jones, the same age as you, and he got lost up here over a hundred years ago. And his Daddy couldn’t find him.’

‘What happened?’ Ben asks quietly.

‘He died. And they didn’t find his body for a month. All alone, lost on a very high ridge. So you don’t want to go wandering, do you Ben?’

Ben shudders. ‘No, Daddy.’