Chapter 5

Sharlene:

Helen told me the news. Missus Shelby rang her, she said, and Brian was remanded in custody, and unlikely to be out for a long time. I don’t know how I should feel about that. Relief? Maybe, but seriously, I hadn’t worried since Helen prayed for me. I dunno. It just seemed ... unreal. That what mattered was what I had here and now. I had friends. I was doing pretty well at school – better than I ever had before. Helen and Geoff treated me well. I was happy. Well, yeah. Happy. Thought about Mum from time to time, but there was no comparison between the home she gave me at its best, and the one I was living in.

Anyway, several weeks after the initial call, we were told that Brian’s case was held over (or something) for Crown Court. That, apparently, was pretty routine for serious cases. Magistrates are limited in what they can do – I can’t say I really took in what was said – but when a case is serious enough, they more or less have to pass it on to the Crown Court. The actual hearing could be months ahead.

Two or three weeks after that, I was visited by a local social worker, Missus Jenson. She rang Helen first, and arranged to come in the evening. Helen insisted she come for supper; apparently she was well known in among our friends.

I didn’t know she was there to talk to me. She came to supper and we all chatted – she was nice and told some stories about her work that were quite funny; no names, of course. But afterwards, we sat in the lounge, and...

“Sharlene, I really came this evening to talk to you...”

I looked at her and, for a few moments it felt like I had a lump of lead in my stomach. I glanced at Helen, who shook her head slightly and winked. The nice supper felt like it was going to come back up. I looked back.

“You know your stepfather is locked up?” I nodded, and she went on, “Your mother contacted my agency. She wants you to go back to live with her.”

I looked back at Helen, and glanced at Geoff. “You do not have to go, Sharlene. You’re welcome here as long as you want,” Helen reassured me. “Beverley – Missus Jenson – is required to give you your mother’s message. But you get to say.”

I looked back at Missus Jenson. “Is that right?”

“That’s right.”

“I...” I took a deep breath. “Mum didn’t protect me. Even before she married Brian, she didn’t really look after me. I mean, I love my Mum, but Helen’s been more of a mum to me since I’ve been here than Mum ever was.”

“You get to choose, baby,” Helen said. “Geoff and I, we, we love you and we’d love for you to stay.” I noticed that her eyes flicked to Missus Jenson’s as she was speaking.

“Would you be willing to meet her?” Missus Jenson’s voice was gentle.

“I suppose so. I mean, I don’t feel angry with her, y’know. I just don’t feel I can trust her. I mean, I don’t know that she’d choose the best thing for me. I guess it’d be best away from here ... at least for now.”

“I’m amazed, Sharlene. I think every young person I’ve dealt with has been burning up with anger, but you seem ... serene, I suppose.”

I thought about that. “I was angry when I ended up in the Ashcroft Centre, but since then, Helen ... well, several people. Geoff, of course. Dulcie. And, especially, Emmanuel.”

She smiled widely. “Ah. I see. That explains a lot.” Looked at Geoff. “Could you get Sharlene to Stowmarket?”

“It’d have to be a weekend I’m not working on the barges.” He looked at me, “You never did get to ride on my motorbike. How do you feel about that?”

“I think that might be fun.”

We said goodbye to Missus Jenson – I impulsively gave her a hug – and right on cue, Helen had to deal with Dougie. When he finished feeding, I took him and changed his nappy while Helen and Geoff disappeared into their bedroom. They’re pretty quiet, but it’s not possible to miss some of the sounds Helen makes. I wonder if I’ll find someone to treat me, to love me, like Geoff does Helen?

Two and a bit weeks later, Saturday morning, good breakfast, and Geoff’s wheeled this heavy-looking motorbike out into the apartment car-park from a discreet corner where it’d been tucked away under a heavy canvas cover. I’ve never been into motorbikes, so it’s all new to me. I wore a hi-vis jacket over a fleece, and my usual jeans, and a white helmet belonging to Helen. Geoff assured me that there’s a waterproof suit to fit me in the boxes at the back of the bike. He straddled the bike and I climbed on behind. As instructed, I wrapped my arms around him, he pressed a button, and the motor started, a subdued purr.

Geoff rolled forward through the arch to the High Street, waited for a car to pass, moved off and the bike ... dropped sideways. Frightened? By the time I’d swallowed my heart, we were accelerating up the High Street. Over the next few miles, about six, Geoff told me, we were on back roads, with frequent, tight corners and I gradually got used to the sensation of falling sideways. But when we got to Witham, we got onto the A12, which is a fast road, and Geoff sped up. It was ... exhilarating. That’s the word. I could tell, peering over his shoulder, that he was giving other traffic plenty of room, but we spent a lot of time in the right lane, overtaking slower traffic, mostly trucks.

Then, a truck would pull out because he wanted to go slightly faster than the one in front, and everyone in the right lane had to slow to his speed. Geoff explained, later, that the trucks had governors on their engines that were supposed to limit them to fifty-six miles an hour, but some drivers were supposed to drive at fifty, and of course there were minor differences in the engines and governors, or the weight the truck was carrying, or ... whatever. But eventually the road would clear and Geoff would speed up. I watched the countryside passing by. The A12 met the A14, and Geoff took us west to Stowmarket.

We started in Maldon at half-past-eight, and drew up in Stowmarket a little before ten-thirty. Geoff parked the bike, applied a lock to the front wheel, and put his helmet (larger and heavier than the one I was wearing) in the box at the back. Our hi-vis went in the boxes – panniers, Geoff called them – each side of the back wheel.

I was familiar with the town, of course; I grew up there, and showed the way to the Lime Tree Cafe; we were early, but Geoff smiled and said he wanted a cup of coffee while we waited.

We got drinks – tea for me, espresso for Geoff – and sat and sipped. Mum was due to come at eleven. At five to, I saw her walk in, and touched Geoff’s arm. He swivelled, scanned the new arrival, and looked at me. I nodded.

Mum bought her latte and crossed the room to us. Geoff stood. Mum put her coffee on the table and held out her hand. “Geoff Billings, Ma’am,” Geoff said, taking it. “I’m Sharlene’s transport. I’ll leave you to talk.”

Mum looked him up and down. Geoff’s a pretty good looking guy, y’know? Probably a year or so younger than Mum, tanned, fit. “Sylvia,” Mum said with a smile. “Currently Denton, but I’m working on changing it.”

“Pleased to meet you, Ma’am. Sharlene will call me when she needs to leave.”

Geoff left. I’m tempted to say ‘beat a retreat’.

“He’s married, Mum,” I told her.

Her only comment to that was, “Hmmm.”

She sat, sipped her latte. Looked at me. “So ... you’ll come back to live with me? Now he’s gone?”

“Why would I do that?” I was feeling anger rise in my gut.

“I’m your mother.”

“I think you forgot that when I told you Brian was touching me up.” I could feel my face tensing.

“But...”

“Mother – you’re my mother and I love you, but I don’t feel I can trust you.” Something was bubbling up inside, my eyes ... I felt a tear trickle down one cheek. But then my eyes really overflowed.

“Baby...”

I took a deep breath, found a handkerchief, blew my nose. “Remember my grades while I was living at home? For the last six months I’ve not got less than A. I’m living with people who care about me, about my future. I don’t know yet what I’m going to do, but it’ll be something worthwhile...” I stopped before saying something about government handouts – Mum had been on assorted benefits most of the time since Dad died.

I looked at my mother, whose face was blank. I stood, pushing my chair back. Walked towards the door.

“Darling?” I’d only taken a couple of paces. I stopped, turned.

“I’ll meet you again, Mum.”

“Sharlene, little sister,”

“Emmanuel?” I spoke aloud, not thinking.

“Honour your father and your mother.”

“Sharlene?” My mother’s voice.

I turned to her, took a step and kissed her cheek. “I don’t hate you, Mum. But what would Dad have thought about things...” I left the shop, heading for the car-park where Geoff left his bike, only then remembering my phone.

He answered, and met me at the bike. “Can we go?” I asked.

“Certainly. But we need to have something to eat. It’ll be late by the time we get home. There’s a place on the way where we can stop.”