Terrified Page 17

  ‘FAO Hayley Jenkins’ he had written across the top, underneath his address.

  Thank you very much for contacting me. It’s very good to have the chance to get back in touch with Vicky, my daughter. I’ve been overseas a fair bit, but I’m married and settled down now. I wish I had known Vicky was in care before now, but I am glad she is OK and in a good foster home. I have a wife called Carol and my son, Matty, is now 17. Vicky won’t remember him, but he remembers her as a baby. Please tell Vicky I would love to hear from her, and I look forward to writing again and sending some photos.

  Best regards,

  Vincent Taylor.

  Despite the irritated mood I was in, I couldn’t help smiling to myself when I got to the end of the short letter. My first impressions of Vincent were good, and he certainly sounded nothing like the ‘nasty loser’ or ‘waste of space’ he’d been described as by Vicky’s mother. This felt like a ray of sunshine in the midst of a terrible episode for Vicky, but of course only time would tell if my hopes would prove to be correct. We had a long way to go yet, and I knew that whatever happened further down the line it was going to be an emotional ride for Vicky, and no doubt for me and Jonathan too.

  13

  ‘When I was living with her I had to be resourceful’

  ‘Vicky, love,’ I said, tapping on her door. ‘Can I come in?’

  ‘Yes,’ she said in a day-dreamy voice.

  Vicky was sitting hunched and cross-legged on the rug beside her bed, looking through an old Smash Hits magazine.

  ‘Hi, love. Listen, I have some good news. It’s about your father.’

  ‘My dad? Have they found him?’

  ‘Yes they have, and he’s written to Hayley to say he’d like to hear from you.’

  Vicky immediately dropped the magazine and straightened her back, giving me her full attention.

  ‘Oh my God! He’s alive?’

  ‘He certainly is. Do you want to read the letter? It was addressed to Hayley, so it’s been opened.’

  Vicky narrowed her eyes and bit her thumbnail.

  ‘Er, yes. I’m a bit nervous . . . it’s a shock. Have you read it?’

  ‘Yes, Hayley told me to have a look.’

  ‘Does he sound nice?’

  ‘He does. It’s very short, but he says he’ll write to you, directly next time, if you want to write back to him.’

  Vicky slowly reached out her hand, took hold of the letter and carefully pulled the white paper from the envelope.

  ‘Wow!’ she said, reading the words slowly and purposefully.

  ‘So this Matty is like, well, a brother?’

  ‘Yes, so it appears.’

  ‘Oh my God! This is so weird!’

  ‘How do you feel, Vicky? Are you going to write back?’

  ‘Of course! There’s loads of questions I want to ask him.’

  Vicky was grinning and looked happy. I hadn’t seen her smile in over a week, and it was wonderful to see.

  ‘You could maybe send some photographs too, I could help you chose some, if you like?’

  ‘Would you? I wonder what he looks like? I wonder if I look like him?’

  Vicky was growing more animated the more the news sunk in, and I was very pleased to see her responding this way.

  ‘I’m going to write to him now. Oh my God, this is actually such good news! How far away does he live? I’ve never heard of that place.’

  ‘It’s quite far, a couple of hundred miles at least, I’d say. All right, love. I’ll leave you to it. Good luck.’

  Vicky was back at school by now, and a couple of days later I took a phone call from Hayley telling me that Lorraine wanted to talk to Vicky about the funeral arrangements.

  ‘Lorraine asked if you could send Vicky over to her flat one night this week, after school,’ Hayley said. ‘Is that all right?’

  ‘That’s fine,’ I replied. ‘I’d been thinking the sisters needed to see each other, but I didn’t want to interfere. I’m sure Vicky will be pleased.’

  ‘Good. Lorraine obviously has her problems, but she can be very sensible too. Hopefully they’ll have a good chat.’

  When I passed the message on to Vicky she was very pleased and she asked me if she could go over to Lorraine’s that same night.

  ‘I’ve got tons of homework to do, mind you. I haven’t really got time to go on the bus. Is there any chance you could give me a lift, Angela?’

  ‘Of course,’ I said. ‘I’m happy to help. I’ll come and fetch you afterwards too, if you like.’

  ‘Thanks. I don’t know what I’d do without you. Can I use the phone and call Lorraine?’

  ‘Of course.’

  Later that evening, at around 7.30 p.m., Vicky directed me across town to Lorraine’s ground-floor flat. I saw the net curtain twitch as I pulled up, and then the front door opened before I’d even switched the engine off. The next moment a very slender young woman stepped out of the flat and walked towards the car wearing a baggy grey jumper, black leggings and fluffy slippers.

  ‘Hi, Loz!’ Vicky smiled as she leaped out to greet her sister.

  ‘All right, Vic! Hi! You must be Angela.’

  ‘I am,’ I said, leaning across the passenger seat and smiling through the open door. ‘Pleased to meet you, Lorraine.’

  ‘I’m pleased to meet you. Er, did you want to come in?’

  ‘No, it’s all right,’ I replied, imagining Lorraine was only being polite. ‘I’ll come and collect Vicky later though. What time shall I pick you up, love?’

  Vicky looked at her sister and back at me.

  ‘Well, I feel bad having you driving around all night. If Lorraine says it’s all right, why not come in? You can meet my nephew! Sure that’s OK, Loz?’

  ‘That’s fine. James is still wide awake, the cheeky monkey. Carl’s out, playing darts.’

  The flat was sparsely furnished but it was very clean and pin neat, and the baby was lying in a fancy Moses basket in the middle of the floor, kicking his legs and gurgling contentedly. Vicky immediately crouched beside him, making cooing noises and tickling him under his chin.

  ‘I’ve missed you, little man!’ she beamed. ‘Aren’t you gorgeous?’

  ‘Now don’t you go getting him all wound up before bed, Auntie Vicky!’ Lorraine teased. ‘Would anyone like a cuppa? I’m putting the kettle on.’

  Vicky and I both accepted the offer of a cup of tea, and once it was made the three of us sat very convivially together around the coffee table in Lorraine’s small lounge.

  ‘I’m very grateful for all you’re doing for Vicky,’ Lorraine said to me. ‘I’ve been hoping for the chance to thank you, Angela.’

  ‘It’s a pleasure to have her. Jonathan and I are very happy to help; I’m just sorry you’ve had so much to deal with. It must have been a terrible shock, losing your mum.’

  ‘It was,’ she said, turning to her sister. ‘How are you doing, Vic?’

  ‘I dunno really. I thought I never wanted to see her again, but now I can’t . . . it’s weird. D’you know what I mean?’

  ‘Yes, I do. I think you should come to the funeral though. Me and Carl are going, and James of course. I think it’s important.’

  ‘I suppose,’ Vicky shrugged. ‘I don’t mind if I’m with you. I won’t have to see her body or anything like that, will I?’

  ‘No, of course not. I’ve dealt with the funeral parlour and all the arrangements. You just need to turn up. You can do that, can’t you?’

  ‘Yes, I can.’

  I was impressed by Lorraine. Apart from the fact she appeared to be significantly underweight, you would never have guessed she had any issues, and certainly not that she had taken an overdose recently. The flat was clearly very well cared for indeed, and the baby looked very happy lying on his fresh white sheets, sucking on the corner of a soft, satin-edged blanket.

  ‘They’ve found my dad, by the way,’ Vicky suddenly said. ‘Did you know anything about this, Loz?’

  ‘No! Wow! That’s
amazing! Where is he? Are you going to see him?’

  Vicky told her sister the scant details we knew, and Lorraine listened eagerly.

  ‘That’s great!’ she said. ‘I don’t remember Matty. I was with my dad the whole time when Mum was with your dad, see. I’ve heard the name though. Maybe Mum just told me about him, or I overheard her mentioning him. I honestly can’t remember.’

  ‘So I assume you don’t remember Vicky’s father either?’ I ventured.

  ‘No, nothing at all. Never seen a picture, nothing. I didn’t even know his name was Vincent until I saw Vicky’s birth certificate recently. Mum never talked about him, except when she slagged him off.’

  ‘I told you, Angela!’ Vicky said. ‘Mum never had a good word to say about my dad, but I know you’re right. We can’t just take her word for it. I need to find out for myself.’

  I explained to Lorraine how Vicky was going to write to Vincent, and then they would hopefully swap more letters and probably some photographs, and that after that Social Services might arrange a meeting.

  ‘What if he does turn out to be how my mum described?’ Lorraine asked, suddenly looking concerned. ‘What if he sounds all right in a letter but is this nasty person she told us he was?’

  ‘Social Services are used to dealing with these kinds of things, and Vicky’s safety is paramount here. The way it works is that a social worker will travel to meet him first. They’ll also do various background checks.’

  ‘Like what?’

  ‘Check that he has no police or prison record, that sort of thing, I imagine. We already know he left the Army with a very good record – a commendation in fact.’

  ‘That bodes well,’ Lorraine said. ‘Could I come too, if it gets that far?’

  Vicky looked at me hopefully.

  ‘It’s not my decision!’ I smiled. ‘It’s up to you two, and Vicky’s father of course. I can’t see there would be any problem, but let’s cross that bridge when we come to it, shall we? There’s a little way to go yet.’

  Before Vicky and I left the flat Lorraine handed me her phone number and asked me to keep in touch, and we made arrangements for me to drop Vicky over on the morning of the funeral. As the sisters were now going together I would not attend, which Vicky said was fine.

  ‘As it’s her birthday on the same day I’m going to take her out for a pizza in the evening, if she feels up to it,’ I whispered to Lorraine when Vicky nipped to the toilet.

  ‘That’s a good idea. I’ll get her a present, as soon as I pick up my Giro.’

  ‘OK, Lorraine. That sounds good. I’m so glad to have met you. You take care of yourself, and here’s my phone number too.’

  I scribbled our home number on a scrap of paper and we all said our goodbyes.

  ‘Thanks, Angela,’ Vicky said with an appreciative sigh as we drove away from the flat.

  ‘You’re very welcome indeed,’ I said. ‘It was lovely to meet Lorraine. You’re lucky to have a sister like her.’

  I felt genuinely relieved and comforted to have met Lorraine. Her life could not be easy, raising a baby in a small council flat and living on benefits as she did, but she was a kind person, and I could see she had Vicky’s best interests at heart.

  ‘By the way, where did you sleep, when you were at Lorraine’s?’ I asked, as the flat clearly only had one bedroom.

  ‘On the settee. Lorraine couldn’t stand the mess, but it’s hard to be tidy when you have nowhere to put your stuff, isn’t it?’

  ‘Yes, it is,’ I said. ‘Mind you,’ I added with a mischievous smile, ‘some people find it hard to be tidy when they do have somewhere to put all their stuff.’

  ‘Ha ha, very funny, Angela!’

  Vicky barely mentioned the funeral again and said nothing at all about her mother over the next few days. When the day finally arrived I arranged for Jonathan to be on duty in the shop, as I wanted to be on hand for Vicky, should she need me, and I was also going to run her over to Lorraine’s. Thankfully, when Vicky came downstairs on the morning of the funeral she seemed incredibly together. I hadn’t even had to wake her. She’d got herself up in plenty of time and was already dressed in a smart outfit.

  ‘At least my mum taught me to be resourceful,’ she mused, looking at herself in the long mirror in the hall and smoothing her hands down over her slim hips as she did so.

  ‘Yes, I’m very impressed with your outfit,’ I said, because I assumed Vicky was referring to the clothes she had picked out. She had put on her smart black school trousers along with her best shirt and favourite jacket, and she’d also blow-dried her hair into a silky shoulder-length bob which made her look very grown up.

  ‘And your hair looks lovely, too. I’ve never seen you with it down before.’

  ‘Thanks!’ she said, staring absent-mindedly at her reflection. ‘When I was living with her I had to be resourceful, you know.’

  ‘I imagine you did. I expect you had to do a lot for yourself.’

  ‘Yes, but I mean when she locked me outside. That’s what she did, all the time. I’d just be in a nightie and half the time I had no shoes on. I’d have frozen to death if I didn’t keep my wits about me.’

  ‘I can’t bear to think of you out in the cold like that,’ I said.

  ‘She was so cruel, Angela. The older I get the more I realise this. I know it’s her funeral today, but I’ll say it anyway. She was just so wicked to me. Do you know what? When it became a regular thing to be put outside I got into the habit of hiding clothes behind our bin in the back alley, so that I had stuff to put on to keep warm.’

  ‘Well that really was very clever of you, especially as you were so young.’

  ‘Yes, she could be cleverer, though, when she felt like it. Once, at Christmas, she found the stuff I’d hidden and took it inside when she put me out. I had to get cardboard boxes out of the bins and wrap them round myself to try to keep warm. I had bits of smelly old tin foil wrapped around my feet. And you know what? When she found out I did that she started pouring cooking oil and dirty washing-up water in the bin, so I couldn’t take anything out of it.’

  ‘Vicky, that’s terribly sad.’

  ‘Yes, I’m resourceful though!’ she smiled bravely.

  ‘Here,’ I said, handing her a little present. ‘This is a birthday gift from me and Jonathan.’

  Her eyes shone and Vicky threw her arms around me.

  ‘Thank you!’ she said, untying the ribbon, peeling back the spotty purple wrapping paper and peeking inside the jewellery box.

  ‘Oh it’s beautiful!’ she said, lifting out the necklace.

  ‘The charm is a little guardian angel,’ I said. ‘Whatever happens in the future, I want you to know that me and Jonathan are here for you. We’ll always do what we can to help you, Vicky. You must never feel you are on your own. Remember that, won’t you?’

  She put it on and stepped back to admire herself in the mirror.

  ‘Thanks,’ she said. ‘I’ll treasure it, always. I won’t forget what you’ve said. Thank you.’

  ‘It looks pretty on you, and it suits you with your hair down.’

  ‘Thanks. Thank you for everything. I’m ready now. Shall we go?’

  ‘Yes,’ I said, smiling. ‘I’m proud of you, Vicky. Best of luck today. You’re doing the right thing.’

  Lorraine phoned me just an hour later to tell me the funeral was over. There was no wake, and apparently only a handful of neighbours, including the man from next door, Alf, had turned up along with Lorraine and Carl and the baby, and Vicky.

  ‘Vicky’s fine,’ Lorraine reported. ‘She wants to come home now though. I think she’s had enough.’

  I told Lorraine I’d be right over, and as I pulled up at the flat she again peeped through the curtains and opened the front door before I’d finished parking up.

  ‘I’m glad you’re here, Angela,’ Lorraine said, running out to meet me. ‘Vicky’s gone very quiet. I think she just needs to get back to yours and have a good rest. She saw a pic
ture of Mum that I found in the flat recently, and it shocked her. Vicky said Mum looked very thin and frail compared to how she remembered her. I think it freaked her out. Wait here, I’ll get her.’

  Lorraine then darted back in the flat and reappeared a minute or two later, steering a pale, shocked Vicky towards the pavement.

  ‘Are you all right, sweetheart?’ I asked.

  Vicky blanked me as I helped her into the back seat of the car and shut the door.

  ‘I’ve seen her like this before,’ I said quietly to Lorraine, who was standing with her arms folded, looking shattered. ‘Have you?’

  ‘Yes, I have,’ Lorraine nodded. ‘Lots of times unfortunately, when she was at Mum’s. But not for a long time, not since she was little.’

  ‘Lorraine,’ I said, seeing an opportunity and opening my mouth before I’d thought through what I was about to say. ‘Tell me if it’s none of my business, especially on a day like today, but I don’t know what actually happened to Vicky, at your mother’s, and perhaps it would be useful if I did.’

  Lorraine looked at the ground, unfolded her thin arms and put her hands up to her temples, as if she had a sudden headache. As she did so I couldn’t help but notice that the insides of both her narrow wrists were heavily scarred.

  I felt my heartbeat quicken as I registered what this meant; it seemed that Lorraine’s previous cries for help must have involved more than an overdose of pills. I was very shocked indeed, and seeing Lorraine looking so vulnerable and upset made me regret asking about her mother.

  ‘I’m so sorry,’ I spluttered. ‘I really shouldn’t have asked.’

  Lorraine continued looking at the pavement.