Confessions Page 12

  He reached an arm across the table. ‘I know it’s hard for you, Issa, but I need to be heard.’

  ‘I know, that’s why I’m here.’

  ‘I need to be heard by him, by Harrow.’

  Issa lifted her head. ‘Harrow didn’t do anything, JP. I think deep down you know that.’

  This wasn’t going to plan, but Nat let it run.

  JP withdrew his hand. ‘See, Issa? You’re not listening.’

  ‘How can I listen when I know it’s a lie?’

  ‘Then why are we here?’

  They both turned away at an angle and were silent for some time.

  Nat inwardly sighed. Communication was the key to so much in life, but it could be bloody, bloody difficult. ‘Do you understand JP’s need to be heard?’ she eventually asked Issa.

  She nodded.

  ‘And do you understand how painful it is for Issa to listen?’

  JP nodded.

  ‘Taking that into account, do you both want to try again?’

  Her features pallid and tight, Issa lifted her chin. ‘Say what you need to, JP. I’m listening.’

  He inhaled deeply through his nose. ‘When I was eight, I started piano lessons with your father.’ The words rushed from his mouth. ‘In the house your parents have now. The same piano, same room. He was kind, just like he’s kind now. I trusted and liked him. He was far nicer than my own father, who was unloving and cold.’ He took a shuddery breath, then carried on doggedly. ‘Your father was my saviour. He gave me treats to encourage my progress. Told me I was special and talented. Then the rewards turned to something else, something intimate. He called them “favours”.’ His voice broke. ‘My saviour became my abuser…’

  Nat turned to Issa. Her head was bowed. ‘Are you okay?’ she asked.

  She nodded. ‘How long did this go on for, JP?’ she asked quietly.

  ‘I don’t know exactly. Six months? No more than a year.’

  ‘Why did it stop?’

  JP didn’t reply for several beats. His knuckles bone-white, he put them to his temples and tapped. ‘We were caught,’ he said eventually. ‘He was caught.’

  ‘Who by?’ Issa asked.

  His hair fell around his face. ‘By… by your mother,’ he replied.

  17

  Happy Moment

  Nat stretched and yawned. Thank goodness it was Saturday, a whole day of not having to juggle cases and problems and people and… She stopped herself there. Well, almost. She was spending this morning with Robbie, of course. She had offered to collect him from his father’s house – wherever that was – but he’d declined, saying that he’d walk to hers. Was it because he was camping in Gavin’s place full time? She had no idea, but she’d decided it was better not knowing too much about his background and fear of cars. Gavin had given her the heads up about his mum’s death and that was enough.

  Robbie was in her kitchen, devouring a teacake when she finally came down. He wiped the butter from his lips with the back of his hand and nodded a greeting.

  ‘Morning,’ she mumbled. Was she crazy? Had she really offered to give him driving lessons? No, not lessons, more a foundation course of where the pedals and handbrake were located in her mum’s Ka.

  She glanced at Anna’s passive face. Surprisingly, she was all for it, and what was the worst that could happen in her tiny car? Well, a collision, a crash, the death of them both, a pedestrian or another driver was the flaming worst that could happen. Or maybe a bump and having to pay the huge excess over and above the extortionate cost of the insurance she’d paid yesterday.

  She sat down and inwardly sighed. But if she didn’t do it, who else would? This was a boy who preferred kipping in Gavin’s mangy flat rather than going home to his dad, a young man with reams of potential. The job ladder was difficult enough without being held back by an inability to drive.

  Robbie gulped back the last of his drink. ‘I brought my provisional licence like you said. So what happens now?’ he asked.

  ‘Well…’ His knee was jerking, his face ashen. ‘There’s no hurry about any of this. Let’s just sit in the car today, get used to the gears and stuff. Does that sound okay?’

  ‘Or drive up and down our road. Maybe have a go around the pay-and-display car park? If I can do it, so can you,’ Anna added.

  The car park that was always chock-a-block? Nat stared meaningfully at her mum, but she’d already turned away, tossing a tea towel over her shoulder and humming a tune. Invited by Borys, she’d joined an OAP dancing group at a church hall in Bramhall. Last night had been their first outing and had clearly gone well. What Borys had lacked in talent, he’d ‘made up in enthusiasm’, she’d told Nat with a sunny smile last night. From her glowing reticence, she suspected her mum had been a dancing star. It made Nat’s heart swell. Go Mum!

  Finally sat in Anna’s car, Nat introduced her student to the ropes in the same order as a sweaty and smutty driving instructor had a million years ago to her. Robbie tucked his long fringe behind an ear, and for the first time she noticed a puckered scar on his temple. His expression was tense and he didn’t say much, but he practised turning the engine on and off, then putting the car into gear.

  ‘Practise for as long as you like,’ she said several times, but boredom soon set in. What was that old Scottish proverb? If ye like the nut, crack it. Well, she and Robbie were going to crack this particular nut. She glanced to the pay-and-display across the road. Yup, this one was heaving; the cheeky buggers had even parked on yellow lines to pop into Sainsbury’s for a loaf, or a Quality Save bargain.

  ‘Are you up for actually moving?’ she asked Robbie, and when he nodded she said, ‘Okay, let’s swap seats.’

  Nat drove to the only local business park she could think of. Ignoring the gym kit bunnies keenly hopping towards the David Lloyd, she drove to the empty far end and parked up. ‘Right, let’s change places again…’

  Hoping Robbie couldn’t tell just how clenched her buttocks were, she gave a mental salute to the patience of (even sweaty and smutty) driving instructors, and encouraged him to inch forwards and back. Once he seemed to get the hang, Nat found her mind drifting.

  From their hand-holding yesterday, she’d supposed Issa and JP had travelled to the motorway services together, but it turned out they’d come in separate cars. Sensible really, when there was a high probability they wouldn’t be leaving as friends. After JP’s shocking revelations, Nat had stayed in the café for a while, buying herself a fizzy drink to quench her thirst and her agitation. What the hell would Issa do about the horrendous situation now it included her mother? But when she’d returned to the car park, Issa was waiting in her own car.

  Nat had hurried over and climbed into her passenger seat. ‘Oh my God, I’m so sorry. I thought you’d gone home with JP. Are you okay?’ she’d asked, taking in Issa’s tight face and hair, newly scraped into a ponytail.

  ‘Not really. What do I do now?’ she had replied, staring through the windscreen.

  Nat had been stuck for an answer; she’d still been spinning from the blow herself, but Issa had continued to speak.

  ‘What did I tell you? It’s all up here.’ Tapping her temple, she’d focused on Nat. ‘JP is forty-six. He’s talking about something that happened thirty-eight years ago. I wasn’t even born then. We didn’t buy our house until I was five. I can remember moving in because of my new swing. Dad didn’t give piano lessons; the Steinway was bought for Jose when he started playing.’

  It had taken Nat a moment to add everything up. ‘So that means…’

  ‘It means it didn’t happen, Nat. It can’t have. When JP was eight, we didn’t live in Lower Heswall, so he can’t have been in our house. Jose was two, so there was no piano back then.’ Her eyes had glazed for a few seconds, then she’d nodded. ‘JP asked me to listen and I did. I hope that’s enough.’ She turned to Nat again and blew out her release. ‘Thank God I did. I knew it wasn’t Harrow, Nat, and now I know for sure. Not that for a moment… but it’s a r
elief, a huge relief.’

  Nat had wanted to punch the air. She was so pleased for her, glad that Harrow wouldn’t have to be dragged into the horrible mess. Issa had been right after all; the less her parents knew, the better. Like her with Robbie and his fear of cars, which he’d temporarily put behind him.

  She came back to her pupil and glanced through the wing mirror. ‘Whoa, Robbie!’ she declared, pressing an invisible brake in the passenger footwell. She stared at the wall he’d almost mowed down, took a deep breath and tried for the patient voice of an instructor, rather than the harridan inside who was itching to shout.

  ‘Remember to look in your mirrors, Robbie. One more go, then let’s call it a day.’

  A panini was waiting on the table for lunch. Szynka and gherkin on seeded bread; it looked and smelled delicious but she’d be eating again soon at McDonald’s. Truth be told, she was getting pretty sick of cheeseburgers and fries, but Gavin’s kids objected if she didn’t join in.

  Taking a break from her tune, Anna turned from the sink. ‘You could wrap it in foil and take it with you,’ she said, as ever reading Nat’s mind. ‘Then you could blame your mama for making you eat proper food.’

  Nat smiled; it was lovely to see her mum rosy-cheeked and happy. Borys was clearly a charmer, not unlike Hugo in Mallorca. Lovely old Hugo used to guide the ladies around ‘Havana’s’ small dance floor with a firm hand; he’d even managed to make Nat feel like a natural. It was a happy memory, but reminded her of Issa’s parting shot the other day. Did Nat know that Jose’s condition was so improved he’d been discharged from the clinic in Palma? He was deciding his future, but in all likelihood he’d be coming home at some point.

  Liverpool was thirty miles away, but the thought still made her feel queasy.

  The sandwich duly wrapped, Nat drove the short journey to Heather’s house. She parked outside the frosted glass porch. Would she be invited in again? There was always that instinctive desire to help. Or was it to interfere? She wanted to say, ‘I talked to Gavin. I said that I’m here if he needs me. Don’t forget it’s the same for you too.’ But her father would’ve said she was ‘blowing her own trumpet’ and ‘seeking approval’, and that real charity was when other people didn’t know about it. He was probably right, but who didn’t enjoy appreciation and applause?

  Gavin answered the door, his head almost hitting the frame.

  ‘Gav, it’s you! Don’t tell me you’ve gone and had a shower, you old devil.’ Surprised and pleased to see him, she laughed. Newly shaved and with a pink shiny chin, he looked about fifteen.

  ‘Watch it, Bach,’ he replied. ‘Though I think the nursing staff were on similar lines. They pretty much kicked me out.’

  ‘Good for them.’ She put her head in the lounge and waved at the boys duly lined up on the sofa. Stepping back, she lowered her voice. ‘Seeing as you’re home, shall I postpone the park for another day?’

  ‘God, no. They’d never forgive me.’

  Picking up a rounder’s bat from the corner, she lightly prodded him. ‘Come on then, big man. There’s room in my charabanc for five.’

  Over the past few outings Nat had tried different parks, but today she drove to Wilmslow, where the tradition had first started. She’d been touched by Gavin’s trust that day, alarmed too; he’d abandoned her with four young children and without any instructions. But little Ruthie had been there to show her the ropes. The thought made her sniff. Sure Gavin felt the loss too, they watched his three sons tumble from the car and charge towards the tall climbing frame. The two older boys shimmied up, halfway in seconds, leaving Cameron behind. She glanced towards their dad, wondering what he would do; the metal structure was too advanced for the three-year-old, his legs not long enough to manage the first rung.

  ‘He’ll learn,’ Gavin commented, not moving.

  Her heart in her mouth, Nat watched. The bigger boys were hanging from the top and shouting down to their little brother. Was this the way Gavin’s dad had taught him? Her father had been strict too, but she’d had the softness of a mother.

  She itched to help. Poor little Cameron was now on his knees; she couldn’t see his face but could tell by his slumped and heaving torso that he was sobbing. Thank God she didn’t have kids; it was all too emotional, there was too much to lose. Turning away, she searched out the ice-cream van, a constant presence, whatever the weather.

  ‘Here we go.’

  She spun back at the sound of Gavin’s voice. Cameron had picked himself off the ground and was swinging on the bottom tier, lifting his legs high and catching another. The little tyke was on the damned frame! His red, blotchy face was a picture of delight, and his brothers were cheering.

  Nat had to blow her nose this time. Gavin put an arm around her shoulder. ‘What are you like?’ he said with an amused chuckle. ‘This is a happy moment.’

  The grass was boggy and wet, but that didn’t stop a muddy game of rounders; Gavin and Cameron against Nat and the older boys. Perhaps it shouldn’t have been a surprise, but all the Savage’s were competitive, even little Cameron, who pelted around the make-shift bases like a spinning top.

  Having declared it a draw, they headed for the River Bollin. Already in wellies, the boys hurtled down the bank and splashed into the shallows. Though the sun had cracked a smile, Nat lifted her collar as she sat on the bench.

  ‘Are you cold?’ Gavin asked when he joined her.

  She eyed him. ‘You’re going to say something about me being a soft… female? Southerner?’

  ‘Nah, not me.’

  She tried for a Scottish accent. ‘We’re not all made of girders, you know!’

  ‘Not bad for a southerner.’

  Keeping an eye on the boys, they fell silent.

  ‘How’s Ruthie?’ she asked eventually.

  ‘Not Ruthie yet.’ He turned and smiled a small smile. ‘But glimpses.’

  ‘Oh, brilliant. I’m so pleased. And Heather?’

  He gazed ahead, watching his sons skimming stones along the water’s surface, but after a few moments he spoke.

  ‘They’ve arrested the shooter. He’s fifteen.’

  Nat nodded; she’d heard this already. On the news, or maybe from him.

  ‘I’ve had the heads up he’ll be pleading guilty. The police picked him up that same evening. Gun residue on his hands and clothes. He couldn’t not admit to it.’ He sighed heavily. ‘So, there’s this gun amnesty going on, and in the same spirit the police are encouraging restorative conferencing…’

  She nodded again; it seemed to be the latest thing; bringing offenders and victims together in a safe environment to ‘repair harm and promote healing’. All great in theory.

  Gavin abruptly covered his face with his hands. ‘Heather wants to do it; she’s prepared to forgive, but I can’t.’ After a moment he took a breath and looked at Nat with burning eyes. ‘I’ve sent my children to a catholic school, I’ve attended church with her and the kids, but if I’m honest…’ He thumped his fist on his chest. ‘It isn’t there. I want to believe, but I don’t. So all this claptrap about forgiveness and healing.’ He shook his head. ‘Fifteen or not, he shot my girl. She nearly died. I can’t… I won’t do it.’

  18

  Abruptly Sober

  The Saturday night threesome had turned into five. Chantelle had got wind of the gathering and it felt unfair not to invite Robbie. Nat had assumed he was in the region of thirteen, but having asked for his date of birth for the car insurance, she’d discovered he was twenty-one. Still young enough to be her son, she supposed. Her flipping son! That had been Gavin’s interpretation earlier at the park. She had entertained him with the whole driving malarkey and he’d deduced it was all to do with her need for kids. Her motherhood hormones were crying out for action before it was too late, apparently.

  Only Savage could say something so outrageous and get away with it. She’d decided not to rise to the bait. ‘Think I’ll just stick with my surrogates, if you don’t mind,’ she’d replied, nod
ding towards Cameron who’d just fallen flat on his face in the freezing murky water.

  It had been comical watching Gavin pluck him out at arm’s length as he tried not to get saturated himself. Her laughter had faded when she remembered they would be in her brand-new car, so she’d suggested races, hoping the wind would blow away some of the damp. She’d impressed everyone with her speed.

  Smiling at the memory, Nat now looked around the bar. Misty, grimy and damp. She sniffed. Yes, and even more pungent than Gavin’s office. God knows why after last time’s deadly hangover, but Joshim and Max had decided on the Withington dungeon again, so she was on the snakebites. She lifted her glass and squinted at the contents. It was half lager, half cider with a blackcurrant top, apparently, though in this light, she could be drinking pretty much anything from treacle to tar. She’d left her mum at home with Borys, ostensibly playing cards, but who knew what those OAPs got up to? Her lips twitched wryly. It seemed the motherhood worry hormones extended to the older generation as well.

  ‘So what are you smiling about?’ Joshim asked over the loud music. He was drunk, but then again, so was she. Chantelle had gone to the ladies, so he was allowed a two-minute break from the dance floor.

  ‘My mum, actually. Seems she’s got herself a boyfriend.’

  He nudged Nat’s arm clumsily, causing some venom to spill out. ‘So there’s hope for you yet.’

  They both stared at the sizzling bubbles.

  ‘What the fuck do they put in that drink?’ he asked, the same time as Nat spoke.

  ‘You sound like Gavin.’

  ‘How is the Rabid Scot?’

  Joshim’s use of Gavin’s nickname was a sure sign that Ruthie was getting better, a joyous thought which prevailed over the other doom and gloom consciousness sloshing around in her head. Along with the hiss of snakebite, of course.