The Cop, page 10
Kathy bought a new one-way ticket for cash, returned to her seat, turned towards the window and closed her eyes again. She travelled back in time but to a happy place this time, a place that made her smile. She recalled childhood holidays on the beautiful Pembrokeshire coast, where she’d spent happy, carefree, sun- drenched summer days playing with Anna on soft sandy pale- yellow beaches, busy with happy holidaymakers that seemed to feel as joyous as she did as they went about their day. And then her father’s voice in her ear with his arm around her sister’s shoulder. As if he hadn’t left them. As if he hadn’t died.
‘Do you two fancy an ice-cream before heading back to the caravan? Ninety-nines if you like? Sprinkles too, if you’re lucky.’
Kathy found strength in the memories that moved and surprised her. She beamed as the past reached out, telling herself that she could replicate those happy times for her own child if all went well. If she didn’t deviate from her plan even for a single second. She was feeling slightly more relaxed now, more positive, a faint but discernible light shining at the end of a long, dark tunnel of oppression. But as another passenger boarded the train, sitting opposite her, Kathy slowly opened her eyes. She was instantly back in the present, on full alert, her happy thoughts brought to an unanticipated halt as her knees knocked and her hands shook.
Kathy felt a growing sense of panic rise from her stomach and settle in her throat. She looked away, focussing on the window as opposed to the carriage, as the passenger settled in her seat. And then the woman spoke. She actually spoke. And Kathy feared her plan may be unravelling there and then before it had really begun. ‘I hope you don’t mind me asking. Do we know each other? I’m sure I recognise you from somewhere.’
Kathy glanced at the woman and then quickly looked away, turning her entire head rather than just her eyes. Was fate toying with her? Was some great puppet master in the sky paying games with her sanity? Kathy studied the woman’s reflection in the glass, taking it in. Surely she’d remember that face? The pale, seemingly translucent skin, the coal-black hair and amber eyes. She was striking, beautiful and hard to forget. The sort of woman who stuck in your mind. Kathy briefly considered rising to her feet and hurrying to another carriage entirely, in the hope that her own unremarkable features were far less memorable, but she could feel the woman’s eyes on her and decided she had to break the pervasive silence.
‘No, I don’t think so.’
And then the woman spoke again as Kathy sat there statue-like, frozen in indecision, wishing the floor would open and swallow her whole.
‘I’m sure we were at university together. Your hair is different now, and you didn’t wear glasses in those days, but I’m certain I recognise your face. We were in the same year. I’ve got a good memory for that sort of thing.’
Kathy clenched her jaw.
‘No, as I said, you’re mistaken.’
‘I was studying Law, and you were on another degree course on the same campus. We chatted once in the student’s union bar after a few drinks. There was a punk band playing live. I think it may have been freshers’ week… Anna, that’s it, Anna something or other! You have the same name as my mother. Talking to you reminded me of home.’
Kathy shifted her weight from one buttock to the other, weighing up her limited options. What to say? What on earth to say? Think, Kathy, think… she had to say something. Silence wasn’t an option. Not if she was going to get away.
‘I didn’t go to university. I didn’t get the A level grades I needed. Such a disappointment, but that’s the way it was.’
The woman pulled her head back, seemingly studying Kathy’s features, refusing to look away.
‘Really, I could swear I recognise you? I’ve got a virtually photographic recall for faces. I rarely get these things wrong.’
Kathy glared at her, eyes flashing.
‘Well, you’re wrong on this occasion. My name’s not Anna, and I didn’t attend your university or any other for that matter. Now, leave it there, please. You’re thinking of someone else entirely. I don’t know who, but it certainly wasn’t me.’
‘Sorry, I was just making conversation. I didn’t mean to cause any offence. If I’ve made an error, I can only apologise.’
Kathy adopted a more conciliatory tone.
‘It’s not a problem, I’m tired, that’s all. I’ve had a long day. I need to sleep.’
‘I really am sorry. I won’t bother you again.’
Kathy closed her eyes and kept them tight shut, counting the seconds until the woman finally left the train at Cardiff’s busy city centre station. She watched as the woman walked along the platform with its view of the impressive rugby stadium standing proudly on the banks of the Taff, and said a silent prayer, more in hope than expectation, as the woman disappeared from sight.
‘Please, God, keep us both safe.’
Maybe she’d gotten away with it. Perhaps she’d said enough to protect her anonymity. Maybe the woman had forgotten her already. Kathy linked her hands in front of her, still deep in melancholy thought. Hopefully, the cruel attentions of fate had passed her by.
Kathy rushed towards the nearest toilet as the train continued its journey west a few minutes later, locking herself in the cubicle with her arms folded tightly across her body until she finally heard the announcer speak out their arrival in the small Welsh market town of Caerystwyth about an hour and a half later. She opened the toilet door, just a few inches at first, peeping out between door and frame and watching the remaining passengers disembark one after another, right up to the time she thought the situation best minimised the risks to her advantage. Kathy jumped from the train with her coat collar high as the final fellow passenger left her sight. She looked into but chose not to enter a brightly lit waiting room to escape the cold, opting instead to sit in the darkest corner of the station platform to wait for morning. Kathy drifted in and out of broken sleep as the hours slowly passed, shivering uncontrollably, teeth chattering as the December temperature dropped a degree or two below zero. She stood and stamped both feet in a hopeless attempt to ward off the cold as dawn slowly approached, wishing the minutes away until the sun finally rose on the far horizon and the sky softened.
A thin mist rose from the river shrouding the surrounding fields at chest level as Kathy walked into town at just after 7 a.m. that morning, keen to find a suitably cheap hotel or guest house where she could warm herself and rest.
She strode along the frosty pavement, breaking into a quick loping trot more than once, keen to avoid the potential attention of any passer-by or early morning drivers starting their day. Kathy quickly rejected the only hotel she came to, thinking the three-star establishment too expensive for her limited finances.
She trudged on with an increasingly heavy heart as a light flurry of tiny snowflakes began to swirl at the behest of a strengthening east wind and stung her face. She was starting to question if she’d ever find somewhere even remotely suitable as her resolve weakened, but within half an hour she’d spotted a backstreet pub with a faded, yellowed poster advertising an available room pasted to one of its grimy ground floor windows. Kathy stood on the gradually whitening pavement, looking at the building less than enthusiastically for a few seconds before finally deciding that anywhere was better than trudging the streets in the cold light of day. She tried the door, which was locked, and then began knocking with the knuckles of one hand, softly at first – fearing her husband may open it and drag her in – but then firmer with gradually increasing energy as she drove her irrational thoughts from her mind. Kathy looked up nervously, shielding her face from the falling snow as a first-floor window opened, and a middle-aged man with a balding head and gunmetal glasses called out to her in agitated tones that made her wince.
‘What do you want, love? It’s not even eight yet. I had a late night.’
Kathy briefly considered walking away without a response, but she glanced down at her blue numb hands and decided to stand her ground.
‘I saw your advert in the window. The room for rent, I’d like to stay if it’s still available.’
He looked her up and down, slowly, studying the line of her full breasts under her scarlet coat.
‘It’s forty quid a night. And I only take cash in advance, no cards and no exceptions. No even for a pretty young thing like you.’
Kathy transferred her weight from one foot to the other, looking away at nothing in particular as he continued to stare.
‘Cash is fine with me. That’s not going to be an issue.’
‘Right, don’t you move an inch. A quick bathroom visit to splash the porcelain and I’ll be with you before you know it. Just you hold on there.’
Kathy stood shivering on the wintry pavement as the landlord disappeared from sight, repeatedly reminding herself that as seedy and rundown as the establishment so obviously was, with its less than charming host, anywhere was preferable to being with her husband. She repeated it in her mind as the sky grew darker and cast its shadows. She needed rest. She needed shelter. And anywhere was better than home.
Kathy was lost in thought, travelling back in time to a black and oppressive place, when the door suddenly opened with a strangely disconcerting groan that made her flinch. The landlord was standing there in the entrance, dressed in nothing but a pair of navy-blue boxer shorts and an inadequately sized white cotton T-shirt stretched to maximum over his protruding beer belly. He had a smouldering cigarette hanging from the right-hand corner of a mouth dominated by uneven nicotine-yellowed teeth that Kathy silently observed looked even more unkempt than the rest of him.
The landlord focussed on Kathy, holding her gaze right up to the moment she lowered her head.
When he eventually spoke, it was with a hoarse, phlegmy smoker’s rattle that Kathy found challenging to decipher.
‘In you come, love. Come on, get out of the cold. It’s brass monkeys out there. The weatherman on the telly said it’s coming straight from Siberia.’
He took two backward steps, moving aside to allow Kathy to enter a dingy, dimly lit room, seemingly filled with faded brown furniture that had long since seen better days. There was a worn out dart board on one white-painted wall, and a little jukebox with an out of order sign stuck on the front of another. Every conceivable surface was littered with dirty glasses and drink- sodden beer mats. Kathy took repeated shallow breaths, thinking the room stunk of ale and stale tobacco despite the smoking ban.
The man took the fag from his mouth, flicking orange ash onto the bare wooden floorboards.
‘Sorry ’bout the mess. We had a darts match last night. We’re top of the league. A few of the lads stayed for a lock-in.’
Kathy didn’t reply.
‘Do you want to see the room before paying? People often do for some reason. It’s not five-star, but it’s comfortable enough.’
She thought about it for a few seconds but decided against. ‘No, it’s all right, thank you, I’ll only be staying for a night or two, and I need to rest. If we can sort out the money, I’ll go straight up.’
He placed his hands on his fleshy hips, leaning back slightly and frowning.
‘Which is it, love, one night or two? Like I said, it’s cash up front. You need to make your mind up. I hope you’re not going to mess me about.’
‘You said it’s forty pounds a night, yes?’
The landlord briefly considered increasing the price, but he noted Kathy’s lack of luggage, changing his mind at the last moment. ‘Yeah, that’s for bed and board, but you’ll have to sort out your own breakfast. My missus is visiting her mother up north. There’s no one to do the cooking. You can help yourself if you want to or there’s a caff on the corner if that suits you better.’ He pointed to his left. ‘That’s the door to the kitchen. It’s up to you. I try to avoid the place whenever possible. It’s a matter of principle.’
Kathy turned away, counting out eight ten-pound notes, before handing them to him without the need for words.
He crossed the floor, reached behind the bar and handed her a door key attached to a large wooden fob with the number two written on it in felt pen.
‘The room’s at the top of the stairs, second door on the right. There’s a shared bathroom opposite. There’s just you and me at the moment so you won’t be disturbed. Make yourself at home. It’s a friendly pub. You’ll like the locals if you get the chance to meet them.’
Kathy smiled and nodded. ‘I’ll go on up then.’
‘You do that, love. I need to sort this place out.’ He pointed in the direction of the cluttered bar. ‘Look at the state it’s in.’
Kathy was met by the unmistakable dank odour of chronic damp as she entered the small box room with its single bed, free-standing Victorian wardrobe and wooden chair. She thought she heard a faint scuttling sound coming from above the ceiling as she locked the door with a single turn of the key, wedging the high back of the chair under the door’s discoloured brass handle in the interests of security. She shuddered as she turned away, glancing into the grey-white street before closing the yellow curtains and slumping onto the lumpy, overly firm mattress, choosing to rest fully clothed on top of the bedclothes rather than climb under the thin quilt.
Kathy lay back, staring at the ceiling with unblinking eyes, and hoping that the noise of tiny clawed feet indicated mice as opposed to rats. She looked to each corner of the room, taking it all in for the first time. It was the least aesthetically pleasing space she’d ever entered, let alone stayed in. There was no doubt on that score. But so what? What did it matter? Her husband wasn’t there. That’s what counted. She repeated it in her head. She was safe. Her unborn child was safe. The monster man wouldn’t suddenly appear with his criticisms, threats or worse. There would no punches or kicks to bruise her vulnerable flesh. No cruel blows placing her baby’s life in danger as before. Perhaps she’d never see the bastard’s hateful face again, except in her flashbacks and nightmares. Maybe she really had escaped him this time. Perhaps she’d already won.
Kathy closed her tired eyes and tried to relax, picturing a black velvet hammock in a pitch-black room filled with unconditional love. By the time she finally drifted into sporadic sleep, forty minutes had passed and she woke several times in the coming hours, eventually rising to the sound of drunken singing at ten past one that afternoon.
She stood, stretched, picked up her coat, and made a brief but necessary bathroom visit, splashing her face with ice cold water to help shake off the residual elements of sleep. Kathy stared into the oval mirror above the white porcelain sink and decided she looked exhausted and drained yet somehow happy. There was less tension in her face. No fear in her eyes. Or at least none that she was willing to acknowledge. What would that achieve? Now wasn’t the time for doubts or indecision. She had to stay strong.
There were three male customers in the dimly lit bar when Kathy entered the room, in addition to the landlord, who was in the process of serving a pint of strong German lager to a grossly overweight, red-faced drunk in a poorly fitting business suit. She glanced at each man in turn, weighing them up, trying to read their thoughts before lowering her eyes as the landlord called out to her with the hint of a smile playing on his pudgy face.
‘Nice to see you up and about, love. Are you going to take your coat off and have a drink with your new friends? We could do with a bit of female company. The first ones on the house, my treat.’
Kathy fastened her coat as she approached the bar, struggling with the top button as her hands began to shake.
‘No thanks, but maybe tonight or sometime tomorrow. It’s kind of you to offer, but there are things I need to do. Things I can’t afford to delay. I need to get on.’
The landlord began pouring the drunk another pint as she stood to wait.
‘Okay, love, anything you say. Have it your way. But if you change your mind, just say the word. I’m at your service, your jovial host.’
Kathy cleared her throat.
‘Do you happen to know if there’s a social services office here in town?’
‘Do you mean the benefits place?’
Kathy shook her head as one of two elderly domino players began blasting out an inept rendition of an old Welsh hymn she didn’t recognise or appreciate. She rested her elbows on the bar, craned her neck, and spoke up above the noise.
‘No, social services, not social security, I need to speak to a social worker.’
He looked back at her with a blank expression.
‘Are you sure you won’t have a drink, love? You look as if you could do with one. On the house, as I said. You could do with a bit of cheering up, no charge.’
‘No, I’d better make a move. Things to do, people to see. But thanks anyway. You’re very kind.’
Kathy was about to approach the exit when the overweight drunk burped loudly. He tapped her on the shoulder, placing her on full alert as dark memories flooded back and threatened to swamp her.
‘It’s in Glyndwr Street, upstairs, opposite the off-licence.’ He pointed at his leg. ‘I used to work there before the accident.’
Kathy’s eyes widened.
‘You worked for social services?’
‘Yeah, admin, I was there for about ten years all told. I lost my leg in a motorcycle accident. It was all downhill after that; far too much morphine. You get used to the stuff, that’s the problem. It becomes less effective with time.’
‘I’m sorry.’
He took a generous slurp of lager, wiping his mouth with a soiled sleeve.
‘Life’s not fair, sod’s law, no one said it was.’ ‘Does the local office deal with childcare issues?’
He nodded twice with a barely noticeable movement of his massive head, emptying his glass with one smooth gulp.
‘Just ask for the duty social worker. If they can help you, they will. And tell them Joey said hello.’ He tapped his false leg with a rat-tat-tat. ‘They’re not a bad bunch all considered. I haven’t seen any of them for ages.’
