I think of all the things this man has been to me; a figure in the distance, tall and thin with broad coat-hanger shoulders and bandy legs; a boyfriend, fiancé and husband. Soon to be ex-husband. I smile softly in the darkness. Or maybe not.
Maybe I should tell him the truth about Josh’s accident now, while we’re feeling so close to each other. The thought chills me and I push it away. I don’t want to risk it. Maybe when it’s all blown over, then I can tell him. My deception is a real, three-dimensional thing, not an idea. It’s on record with Children’s Services and with the police. I’ve perverted the course of justice, deflected attention both from me and the man who broke into our house. I’ve allowed him to be free to hurt someone else in order to save my own skin. I am complicit in whatever he chooses to do next. Sometime in the future, someone will say something and Tom will know.
But not yet. Not during this fragile truce.
June 1992
‘IT’S KATYA,’ KATYA said.
There was a small hesitation before Maggie responded. ‘What are you doing here, lovely? You should be at school.’
‘Can I come in? Please.’
‘Oh … yes, of course.’
The hallway was so dark that Katya had to feel for the light switch. She pressed the round button with the base of her palm and a yellowy light came on. A door opened somewhere upstairs and she followed the sound.
Maggie winced. ‘You poor thing; you look like a drowned rat. Come in.’
She was surprised by the place, had expected something grander, and compared to the Bryants’ neat and shiny house, Maggie’s flat was tired-looking. Her eyes darted around, taking it all in. She got an impression of light and colour, of mismatched furniture, much of it painted, and pictures, lots of them, filling the walls. Maggie helped her off with her wet cardigan and shoes, disappeared into a bedroom and came back with a warm jumper and a pair of dry socks.
‘Here, put these on and sit down. I’ll make you some lunch and then we’ll think about getting you back to school. I’ll call Luke now and let him know you’re safe.’
‘He’s at an interview today,’ Katya said.
‘Ah. OK. Never mind. I’ll call the school and tell them I picked you up from the playground but forgot to sign you out. So I’ll be the one in trouble, not you.’
The kitchen was minuscule with a row of white units to one side and a Formica table with two matching chairs. There was a Mickey Mouse clock above the fridge and a window that looked out on to a long and narrow garden. The rain was finally letting up, the sun thrusting through narrow breaks in the clouds, brightening the herbs in their pots along the windowsill. The oven was the same as the one Katya and Linda had in their house, white with a grill above it so you could watch the cheese melt and brown on your toast. The Bryants’ grill was inside the dark-windowed oven and she wasn’t allowed to use it on her own.
She turned to Maggie. ‘Can I have cheese on toast?’
‘Of course you can.’ Maggie glanced at her and frowned. ‘What have you done to your hand?’
Katya hid it behind her back but Maggie waited, looking at her in that gentle way she couldn’t resist. Slowly she held it out, palm up and then turned it over. Maggie stroked the half-formed scabs with the pad of her thumb.
‘Did you do this?’
Katya shrugged.
‘Do you want to tell me why?’
Katya picked up a Jacqueline Wilson book that had been left on the table and flicked through it until Maggie reached over and closed it. She kept her hand on the front cover.
‘Why are you hurting yourself?’
‘I’m not.’ She sounded sulky. ‘I was bored.’
‘Katya, it isn’t normal to hurt yourself out of boredom. I think you need to talk to someone about this.’
‘I don’t want to. I’m fine. I won’t do it again.’
Maggie looked at her for a long time, long enough for Katya to start feeling uncomfortable. She resisted the urge to wriggle and fidget, and sat very still, waiting for Maggie to insist, hoping she would.
‘Are you making friends at school?’
Katya thought about Gabriella Brady, who sometimes was her friend and sometimes wasn’t.
‘I’m trying to.’
‘Then couldn’t you invite them round, darling? The Bryants wouldn’t mind. You need a distraction to stop you dwelling on what happened to your mum. You’re good at stories, aren’t you? I know you like fairy tales. Next time you have nothing to do, why don’t you write them down? I’m sure Sally could get you a notebook if you ask her nicely.’
That seemed to be the end of the conversation. Maggie went back to making lunch and Katya examined the illustrations in Emily’s book. She felt as though she’d escaped something that she didn’t exactly want to escape. And she felt disappointed too.
Maggie set the plate down in front of her with a glass of orange squash, but despite a gnawing hunger she couldn’t eat it. It made her anxious. She stared at the slowly cooling cheese, picked it up, nibbled the edge and put it down.
‘What is it, Katya? Don’t you like it?’
‘I don’t want to go home. Please can I stay here? I’ll be good, I promise. I won’t tell Emily about Mum or anything.’
Maggie hesitated, scrutinizing her face. ‘Did you hear me talking to Luke at sports day?’
Katya nodded.
‘Well, I’m sorry. It was unforgivable and unprofessional to talk about you like that, and I can only apologize.’
A tear dropped on to the glistening cheese and spread. Katya wiped her nose on the back of her hand.
She wanted to tell Maggie that she loved her. Instead she said, ‘I hate him.’ It felt the same.
‘That’s a bit strong, isn’t it? I have a feeling you won’t like anyone I send you to. But I am trying. You have to be patient. These things take time to organize.’
‘But I like you. Why can’t I stay here with you and Emily?’ She was desperate, her forehead bunched as though her worried frown had become permanently imprinted on her brow. Her right knee bounced up and down.
‘I’ve explained this to you. You know it isn’t possible.’
‘But you said. You promised you would look after me.’
‘Well, of course I did, and I am looking after you. But I’m not in a position to adopt you.’ Maggie glanced up at the clock and started tidying up, wrapping the cheese and putting it in the fridge, the bread in the breadbin. ‘Come on, eat up and I’ll get you back to school.’
Katya shoved her plate away and sobbed wildly, tears and snot smearing her face. However hard she tried to be good, it made no difference, because of Linda. Why was it her fault? Why did her mother being useless mean that Katya’s life had to be ruined? One day she was going to change her name and then Katya wouldn’t exist any more. Someone better would take her place.
Maggie came and sat down and brushed Katya’s hair away from her face. She took her in her arms and Katya leant into the warmth of her body and closed her eyes, let herself be stroked and petted.
‘Love, I know you’ve been lonely, and I understand that you’ve become attached to me, but I can’t be your mother and Emily cannot be your sister. Please try and understand—’
The telephone ringing interrupted Maggie’s speech. She gently pushed Katya away and reached for the receiver.