Don't Turn Around Page 10

  ‘Stop messing with my things,’ snapped Meg.

  ‘God, you’re in such a bad mood. I bet you haven’t finished your coursework, have you?’ I asked, referring to the cross-examination she’d received from her mum when my arrival gave Ruth the first inkling that her daughter had plans for the night.

  Meg had never been good with deadlines, or rules for that matter, but I’d been surprised how difficult she found adapting to life as a sixth former. We had the freedom to plan our own studies but she hadn’t made a good start in the first term and the second was even worse. She’d spend weeks prevaricating over a piece of work, followed by intense periods of panic. There wasn’t much I could do to help because we didn’t take the same subjects and Sean wasn’t around to keep an eye on her, or at least divert my aunt and uncle’s attention.

  ‘It’ll be done by Monday if people will just leave me alone,’ Meg replied through gritted teeth. With perfect timing, her phone pinged with a message. It was the fourth alert since I’d arrived and she ignored this one too.

  ‘Does that include Lewis?’

  ‘Do not mention his name in this house,’ she said, smudging mascara on her upper lid as her hand jerked.

  ‘You can’t keep him a secret forever, not with your phone going off every two minutes. Everyone can tell you’re up to something. And I bet you’ve told Sean.’

  ‘No, I haven’t breathed a word and that’s how it’s going to stay. Do not say anything to anyone,’ she warned. She grabbed her phone and glanced at the messages. Her features softened as she tapped out a reply, but when she caught me watching, she scowled. ‘I’m serious, Jen. If Mum and Dad found out, I’d be grounded forever.’

  It would be months before her parents discovered the existence of a boyfriend and I often wonder what might have happened if I’d dropped a subtle hint or two when Ruth sat us down at the kitchen table to eat before we left that night, or later, when Geoff drove us over to Meathead’s house. They might have been able to break the spell Lewis was casting over their daughter. Early intervention, that’s what Meg had needed and that’s why I’m sitting here at the helpline pod waiting for the phone to ring in the hope that the next call will be from a genuine caller. It’s also why Ruth hasn’t moved from my side.

  ‘Are you ready, my love?’ Geoff asks as he approaches.

  His tone is coaxing but Ruth doesn’t respond immediately. We wait. She sighs, and only then does she straighten up. ‘If there are any problems, you know where I am.’

  ‘You’ll be fine, won’t you, Jennifer?’ Geoff says as we share a look. It feels wrong to have a secret between us but if anything, knowing that Geoff has decided not to inform Ruth about Lewis being in Liverpool justifies my own silence. We’re doing this for Ruth’s sake.

  Once they’ve left, I do what I’ve spent most of the week doing, I scour the internet for any shred of information about Lewis. On Twitter, I find a recent tweet from someone called Sha_4893 who describes herself in her profile as a fitness freak from Liverpool. She says she must have been insane to pay someone to shout abuse at her but from the replies received so far, people are interpreting it as a tongue-in-cheek complaint. I don’t think it is. I think this is Shannon, and what she overheard on Saturday has made her question her personal trainer’s true character.

  I enjoy a brief moment of satisfaction, before I remember that Lewis hits back and it won’t be me or his boot camp recruits who will bear the brunt of his anger. I look around the office and see that more staff have left for the evening. Knowing it won’t be long until I’m on my own, I tuck myself away in my pod and go in search of a friendly face. I close down Twitter and when I find Ruth’s interview online, I mute the sound and fast forward to the video montage.

  Despite being less than a minute long, it gives a good flavour of Meg’s character. The reporter had wanted to show Meg growing up but it takes a keen eye to see that she hasn’t got the chronology quite right. The family holiday in Malta had been before, not after, her sixth birthday, and the wedding anniversary party in Thornton Hall was before the alternative nativity play where she finally caught Lewis’s attention by jumping on top of him. The last few seconds are one final glimpse of Meg on her phone in the kitchen. I’d like to believe she was talking to me, but it would have been Lewis. She turns her back on whoever was filming her and the report returns to the interview with Ruth. I rewind to the beginning of the montage and play it again, and again.

  I jump when the phone rings and when I pause the video, it freezes on one of Meg’s withering looks. It’s the anniversary party and the footage was taken not long after I’d seen Meg and my mum arguing. Am I so wrong to blame Mum? Am I fooling myself to think I stood any chance of saving Meg once Lewis had burrowed inside her head? Lewis excels at mind games and my skin crawls as I lift the phone from the receiver.

  ‘Hello?’ I ask as I return Meg’s scowl. ‘You’re through to the Lean On Me helpline. How can I help?’

  When the line goes dead, I slam it down. ‘Bastard!’

  My hands are shaking but there’s no time to recover because the phone rings again. I put it to my ear but, this time, I don’t speak.

  ‘Hello, is that you, Jen?’ comes a familiar voice.

  ‘Yes, it’s Jen. You’re through to the Lean On Me helpline,’ I reply rather than opting for a simple hello because I can’t decide whether to call her Ellie or Ioana.

  ‘It’s Ellie. I am sorry for hanging up on you.’

  ‘That was you?’

  ‘I’ve been waiting and waiting for you to answer.’

  ‘Have you been putting the phone down on the other volunteers? On purpose?’ I ask. I keep my voice calm despite my rising anger. I’m not going to find out any more about her unless I can keep the lines of communication open.

  ‘I did not mean to. I am sorry,’ Ellie says. ‘I know I have caused trouble for you.’

  ‘And how do you know that?’ I ask. ‘You talked about Meg’s boyfriend last time. Do you know him?’

  ‘I should not have mentioned him. I did not mean to make you angry,’ she says quietly and I can’t help wondering how many times she’s made that same apology to Lewis.

  ‘I’m not angry,’ I tell her as I cradle the phone gently in my hand for fear of losing the call. Despite the distress she’s caused with the nuisance calls, Ellie isn’t coming across as devious. She sounds genuinely upset. Worse than that, she sounds desperate. ‘I’m concerned about you, that’s all. I want to understand why you’re calling the helpline, and why you want to talk to me in particular. Help me understand.’

  ‘Are you alone?’

  A shiver runs down my spine as I peek over the privacy screen to find the office empty. How good are my instincts? Do I trust Ellie enough to let her know I am alone? ‘No one is listening in, if that’s what worries you.’

  ‘He cannot find out I am phoning. Promise not to talk to the others about me,’ she says. ‘You will not tell Mrs McCoy?’

  The image of Meg stares out from the screen. The promise I’m about to make is the same one I made to her and I hope that isn’t a bad omen. ‘I won’t say a word, not even to Mrs McCoy. What is it you want to tell me, Ellie? Please, you can trust me.’

  ‘He talks about her,’ she says in a whisper. ‘He talks about what happened.’

  A hundred questions jostle for position in my mind. I have to decide which ones are most pressing. ‘What does he say?’

  ‘He says she took over his life …’

  ‘Can you tell me who he is?’ I ask.

  I’m pushing too hard and after a pause, her response is equally blunt. ‘John.’

  It’s a familiar name, one that many of our callers use to protect the identity of their abuser. ‘Tell me about John,’ I implore her. I hope my apologetic tone makes up for my impatience.

  ‘He was a very kind man when I meet him first time. He would not stop looking at me. He made me feel special but I was the fool. He was only interested because he thinks I look like he
r,’ Ellie explains, her words hesitant as she attempts to find the right words in English.

  I think back to the photo of Lewis on the beach. Did that girl look like Meg? With her hair scraped back into a ponytail and a scattering of freckles from too much sun, she didn’t strike me as Meg’s twin but what I see doesn’t count. It’s what Lewis perceives. ‘Does he hurt you, Ellie?’

  ‘At first we were friends only. He found me a new place to stay and said he wanted to look after me. I believed him until we … sleep together. He was very drunk and I did not like it. He called me Megan. It was like she was there and I was not. He cried like a baby when it was over and made me promise not to tell. He said he would not do it again, but he did. He does it again and again, and I cannot escape. He lied about how much is the rent. It is too high for me to pay on my own. I should not have left the house I shared. I wish I had never trusted him.’

  ‘We can stop this,’ I promise, knowing from experience that it’s never that simple. ‘If that’s what you want?’

  ‘I cannot tell on him.’

  Ellie’s fear travels down the line and makes my entire body tingle. ‘That’s OK,’ I say when it feels anything but. ‘What would you like to happen, Ellie? How can I help?’

  ‘If only he would keep his promise to be a better—’

  ‘He won’t change.’ I shouldn’t have interrupted, but I can’t stop myself. I have to get her away from him. ‘I think you’ve already seen that the more you accept his behaviour, the more he hurts you. Let me help you get away from him. And if you can’t name him, give me your real name. I can get in touch with other agencies and find you a new place to stay. Or I could help you return home to your family.’

  ‘I came to this country for a better life. I have worked hard for four years. I do not want to go back to Romania. I do not want to give up what I have – what I had here. No,’ she says, the panic rising in her voice. ‘I cannot do this, Jen. Sorry. I should go.’

  I curse myself. I’m supposed to let Ellie reach her own conclusions and I wouldn’t have pushed so quickly if it were any other caller. ‘I’m the one who should be sorry. I know this is overwhelming but please, think about what you want and let’s see if we can make that happen. I’ll do all I can. I’m usually here on Wednesday evenings. If you don’t get an answer, it means I’m on another call but please keep trying.’

  ‘Goodbye, Jen.’

  When Ellie cuts the call, I have a sinking feeling I’ve lost her for good. The rest of the office has fallen into darkness and I feel desperately alone. Even Meg’s frozen image on screen offers no comfort.

  ‘What hold did he have over you, Meg?’ I ask her. ‘What did he do that made you think your life wasn’t worth living?’ My voice is a mixture of anger and pain. ‘You should have said something. We would have got through it together. You had dreams, remember? Think of all the amazing adventures you’ve missed out on, and I’ve missed out on too because you were the only one who could have dragged me onto a plane. We should have been sitting on a white sandy beach somewhere, sipping cocktails for breakfast because we’d been out clubbing all night. And you’d be thinking, thank God I didn’t miss any of this.’

  I cover my eyes with the palms of my hands and press hard. ‘But you are missing it, Meg. And so am I.’

  13

  Jen

  When the phone rings again, I don’t feel that earlier dread: I’d be happy to take a call from our nuisance caller now that I know who it is. In the hour that’s passed since my chat with Ellie, we’ve both had the chance to calm down and consider our options, and I intend to let her do the talking this time. I need to be the friend to her that I wasn’t to Meg. I need to atone for my sins so I can get on with the rest of my life.

  ‘Hello, you’re through to the Lean On Me helpline,’ I say as I strain my ears for the first clues to identify the caller. I can hear the chatter of distant voices and other sounds I can’t quite place.

  ‘Hi, it’s Gemma.’

  I press my lips together as I bring my disappointment under control. ‘Hi, Gemma, it’s Jen. Where are you?’

  ‘I’m out shopping.’

  ‘Oh, OK. How are things?’ I ask as I bring up the call sheet Ruth had pointed out earlier. I still haven’t read it.

  ‘Not great,’ Gemma replies. ‘Mum’s furious with me and I haven’t been home for a couple of days.’

  ‘So where have you been staying?’ I ask, already fearing the answer.

  ‘With Ryan. Mum’s made it impossible for me to go back.’

  I skim the notes Janet made. There’s talk of arguments with her mum and, on face value, that’s where Gemma thinks her problems lie.

  ‘You and your mum always struck me as pretty close,’ I say, hoping to remind her of a time before Ryan.

  ‘Controlling, you mean.’

  ‘Why do you say that?’ I ask, encouraging her to question what I’m guessing Ryan has been telling her.

  ‘She just is.’

  ‘And what about Ryan? How has he been with you?’

  ‘He can’t do enough for me,’ Gemma says. ‘And I know it’s early days, but he’s been so much more relaxed since I’ve been staying with him. Do you think I might have been a bit of a drama queen over it all?’

  ‘Like you said, Gemma, it’s early days and Ryan will be putting a lot of effort into convincing you to stay with him.’

  ‘He is,’ she agrees. ‘I think we’ve both turned a corner.’ She stops talking and there’s a brief moment when the line goes dead. ‘Sorry, I needed to put more money in.’

  ‘You’re calling from a public phone? Have you lost your mobile?’

  Gemma sounds less certain of herself when she replies, ‘No, I’ve still got it but you know, I don’t want this number showing up on my bill.’

  ‘Because Ryan will see it.’

  ‘Maybe.’

  ‘Does he check your account? Have you given him your password?’

  ‘He admits he’s insecure, Jen,’ she offers. ‘But we’re dealing with it. Not that Mum sees it like that. She’s threatening to wash her hands of me if I stay with him.’

  ‘Why do you think she’s reacting that way? Is it possible she’s scared for you?’

  Before Gemma can reply, the second line starts to ring. If it’s not answered, the call will be diverted to a recorded message informing the caller that all lines are busy and encouraging them to phone back. But it’s quarter to eight and by the time I’ve finished with Gemma, there won’t be time to take another call before the helpline is deactivated. Even if there’s the smallest chance it’s Ellie on the other line, I can’t ignore the call. I can’t wait another week.

  ‘After what happened at the weekend—’

  ‘Sorry, Gemma,’ I say, feeling awful that I’ve cut her off mid-flow. I wish I could split myself in two, but maybe I can. If I could give Ellie my mobile number, we could talk for as long as she wanted, whenever she wanted. I know there are strict rules about non-disclosure and I’d be breaking every one, but to hell with professional standards, this is personal. ‘Is it OK if I put you on hold for two seconds? I promise I’ll be right back.’

  With barely time for Gemma to agree, I mute the phone and dash around to the second pod to pick up the incoming call. ‘Hello?’ I ask. ‘You’re through to the Lean On Me helpline.’

  There’s no background noise this time.

  ‘This is Jen,’ I add, in case Ellie is pausing because she wants to be sure it’s me.

  Still no response.

  ‘I’m here to listen,’ I say.

  There’s the sound of breath being expelled. ‘You could have fooled me.’

  I recognise the voice immediately and I jerk the phone away from my ear. My impulse is to cut the call straight away but I want to be braver than that. ‘Fuck off, Lewis,’ I tell him before slamming down the phone.

  Standing alone in the darkened office, the pool of light above the helpline pods feels like a spotlight. My legs are weak as I stumble
back to my chair. I take a deep breath and, although it’s not enough to compose myself, I pick up the muted phone. ‘Gemma, are you there?’

  The line is dead.

  I drop the phone and cover my face with my hands. I can’t believe I’ve just lost Gemma’s call for the sake of talking to Lewis. Did he find out Ellie had talked to me earlier? Was he monitoring her calls as Gemma’s boyfriend is doing? My fear turns to shame as I imagine what Gemma must be thinking right now. I know it’s too little too late, but finally I read the call sheet I should have read earlier.

  On Monday, Gemma had told Janet how she’d gone to see Ryan on Saturday. Rather than the reunion he’d been expecting, she had told him to stop messaging her and then she didn’t hear from him again until Sunday morning when he texted to say he’d taken an overdose. Gemma’s mum had begged her not to go to him – that’s what they had been arguing about – but when Gemma had insisted, she had driven her daughter to Ryan’s flat and waited outside until it became clear that Gemma wasn’t going to come out again. Unsurprisingly, Ryan hadn’t needed medical treatment but, by this point, Gemma was furious with her mum for reportedly saying that she should have left him to die.

  I’m inclined to agree with Gemma’s mum and I want to pick up where Janet left off. Gemma has to realise how dangerous it can be when your boyfriend isolates you from your family and friends, but I can’t say any of this because I hung up on her.

  I want to go home. Correction, I want to be home because Lewis is out there and I imagine he’s laughing at me.

  14

  Jen

  ‘Here, drink this.’

  ‘Tha— Thank you.’ I take the glass from Charlie but my chest is heaving and I don’t dare bring the water to my mouth.

  I thought I’d be able to hold it together, and I had as I rushed past the security guards and out of the office. The wind had been picking up but being swept along the promenade was preferable to creeping along the Strand. I was scared. I still am. Lewis had done his homework and timed his call perfectly for when the helpline was about to close. He could have been watching me. He knows where to look because he sent his solicitor’s letter to the office. Did he know it was my shift or did he just get lucky?