The Water Tower - Books 4-5

Chapter 35-6

He hadn’t so much as blinked as he’d stopped the car by the ditch. It had been shaded by the overhanging trees, pools of muddy water collecting where the sunlight hadn’t reached. He’d acted as if everything was normal; as if it were any other day.

That was where he’d taken her. There and then. On the passenger seat of the valeted Ford that her mate Ryan had tried to hotwire. She’d tried to resist initially; the shock and surprise of his forcefulness had stirred an automatic response in her. She’d balled a fist and jutted out her arm, striking him awkwardly and clumsily in the throat. He’d choked on his spittle reflexively; gasping for breath through the peculiarly-angled blow. Then he’d cleared his throat – once, twice, three times – hurling a ball of spit into her eye as he’d pinned her arms against the headrest. She’d steeled herself. She’d known what was coming; known not to resist further.

FordHe’d come for her, a cold anger refuelling his resolve.

She’d just laid back and let it happen; let him clamp a hand over her mouth as he’d forced himself inside her, yanking at her hair as he’d muffled her cries. She’d told him her name.

“What do your friends call you?” he’d asked.

“Mads,” she’d answered. “S-sometimes Maddy…”

He’d told her that he’d decided to call her “Maddy” too. He’d whispered it, over and over, his lips skirting her ear while he—

She’d hated that pet name ever since. Whenever she thought about it, she thought about all the people who’d used it, and how much she hated them too.

When it was over, he’d done what he’d promised to do. He’d taken her home. He’d dropped her outside Old Man Singh’s shop where she’d bought herself a chocolate bar to stop herself from shaking. Later, she’d told her mates that it was fine, that it was all sorted; that she’d kept her mouth shut and taken the punishment. That was all she could say.

could That much, at least, had been true.

She’d been fifteen years old. Fifteen years old when she’d fallen pregnant to a man whose name she’d later discovered was Robert Grainger.

“I ‘member yoo takin’ me,” she told him now. “Jus’ tha’ once. Say whut yer like now, but I knew yoo wanted me. Me an’ my mates, we used t’ watch all th’ suits comin’ in ‘ere. Yoo saw me too. Know yer did. I seen you, watchin’ me from yer window sometimes or - or when yoo was havin’ lunch wiv tha’ – tha’ woman in th’ Square. I seen yoo. Knew yoo di’n’ ‘av any feelin’s or nuffin’, tha’s no’ why yoo wan’ed me. Yoo wan’ed me jus’ t’ prove yoo could. Nev’r ‘xpected Alice though, did yer? Yoo pro’ly thought I’d get rid ‘cause I woul’n’t be able t’ cope. Bu’ I’d never ‘av d-done tha’. It don’t matter tha’ I’ve got nuffin’ an’ never did have. I p – promised ‘er I’d try. Ev’ry day.

seenfeelin’scould“Ev’ryone fought she wuz Gaz’s. Yoo – yoo wuz pro’ly told th’ same fing. Th’ social were always visitin’ us. P – pro’ly breeved a sigh of relief, di’n’ ya, when yoo ‘eard ‘em talkin’? Sayin’ we hadn’ bin careful. That we wuz two kids fuckin’ each uvver’s brains ou’ until f – fifteen year old Mads go’ ‘erself knocked up.

“Troof wuz, G – Gaz were th’ only one l – lookin’ ou’ fer me. Even of – offered t’ bring her up as ‘is own. ‘C – cause tha’s w – who ‘e is. ‘E’s d – decent. ‘E cares.

cares“When yoo come to Bell ‘Eath tha’ day an’ saw me, I kn – new I made yoo feel sick. W – wasn’ jus’ th’ sight ov a fifteen year old expectin’ though, wuz it? I – I looked a’ yoo tha’ day – tried t’ make yoo understand, an – an’ I fink yoo knew. Tha’ i’ w – wasn’t Gaz Henshaw’s. It were y – yours. I t – tried t’ speak t’ yoo in th’ corridor, t – tried t’ get yoo to look a’ me, b – but yoo jus’ walked off. Y – you an’ th – that uvver w – wanker ‘oo came wiv yoo. Y – you j – jus’ turned yer back on me like… like I was n – nuffin’. Like I’d n – never been anyfin’ else.”

understandknewlookShe closed her eyes to stop herself from becoming overwhelmed. As soon as she did, she was back there; in the Science lab at Bell Heath, her belly swollen and her cheeks thickened. She saw Grainger, standing just inside the door, releasing that piercing look of pure, unrestrained disgust that had practically burned itself onto her retina. The look she’d never been able to let go. The look she fought in vain to bury every time she shut her eyes and tried to sleep. The look that she only managed to silence when she sat alone, on her bedroom floor, with her back against the bed and a shard of mirror tearing into her skin.

She opened her eyes and watched Grainger swallow.

“Does he know?”

“W – ‘oo?” she managed.

“Gary. Gaz. Your boyfriend. Does he know? Did you tell him?”

Garyboyfriend“I did wha’ yoo told me t’ do. I never said nuffin’.”

She’d thought about telling Gaz. Over and over again she’d thought about it; during the long nights they’d spent together, through the months of lethargy and all the things she’d used to take the edge off. She’d wanted to tell him. But then she’d closed her eyes and Grainger was there again, living and breathing and sneering behind her eyelids, the memory of his face – his voice – having long ago tunnelled deep into her brain and found its own sanctuary. And with its recollection came the certainty that she would keep her peace; that she would never tell Gaz, or Hilda, or Mum or Uncle Sean. They’d go on thinking whatever they wanted to think; getting the wrong idea about Gaz. Telling anyone who’d listen that he’d ignored his obligations and taken no responsibility for Alice.

voiceA responsibility that had never been his to take.

“And then they took her away?” Grainger asked her.

She nodded, wiping her tears with the bunched up sleeve of her hoodie. “S – said I wasn’ – tha’ I couldn’ – but tha’s not true. Swear it’s not. Not now. I – I jus’ wan’ ‘er back. She – she’s all I fink abou’. Be – before… if I ‘av to go, if – if they – if they knock Wh – Whitechapel down, I jus – I jus’ wan’ t’ see her. J – jus’ one more time. I jus – jus’ wan’ t’ hold ‘er again. Y – yoo mus’ wan’ th’ s – same fing, d – don’ yoo? D – don’ yoo wan’ t’ h – hold ‘er?”

truenowseehold ‘erhold ‘erGrainger was on her, then. His hand was clamped against her mouth exactly as it had been that day down the dirt track. She wanted to scream, wanted to bite down on the fleshy folds of his skin, or kick out, but she was powerless. Powerless beneath him all over again.

“You cannot speak about this, do you understand me? They came and they took her away because it was best for everyone. Accidents happen, Madison. The best thing to do – the only thing to do – is to sweep them under the carpet and never let them see the light again. She is not my daughter, do you understand me? And you will never – never – hold her, you will never see her, and you will never bring her home.”

speakbestonlynevernotneversee herneverHe let her go. Her mouth was stinging from the pressure he’d exerted. Grainger turned away, walking back towards the window where she’s first found him, cradled once more in the silvery light of the moon.

Then it was her turn to be on him. Not, as the image in her mind portrayed, kicking and screaming, lashing out or clawing at his face in the burst of cold fury he deserved, but grasping at the sleeve of his jacket in fear. She pawed at him, her voice a pleading tone couched in desperation.

“P – please,” she sobbed, “It d – don’t ‘ave t’ be like this. Y – yoo could h – help me. W – we c – coul’ b – bring ‘er h – home. Yoo – yoo k – know people, y – yoo coul’ talk t’ th’ s – social. Y – yoo c – coul’ even ‘elp me b – bring ‘er up if – if yoo wan’ed. Y – you c – coul’ s – see her. As m – much or as l – little as yoo w – wanted. I’s – i’s up t’ yoo. I w – wouldn’t say nuffin’, I promise I wouldn’t!”

pleaseShe knew it was futile. He shook her off with a single sweep of his arm designed to detach her urgent fingers.

The toddler who won’t let go, she remembered. The rough movement arced wide enough to catch her cheek as his arm swung past. She recoiled, knowing then that he had nothing but contempt for what she had asked of him; and that coupled with his pity, it made for a potent combination.

The toddler who won’t let go“Help you?” he whispered. “Help that – thing – of yours?”

youthing“She’s – she’s beau’iful,” she answered him. “I kn – know she is. If yoo saw her, you’d understand. She’s beau’iful.”

beau’ifulunderstand“And you think that’s what I want?” He sounded mocking now. “To hold her? To bring her up? To look into her eyes and see starlight? If you’d listened to a word I’d said, you’d know that’s the last thing I’d ever want to do. I want you gone. Both of you. I want to forget you, forget her – and never be reminded of either of you again. Distant memories. Bad dreams – that’s what I want you to be.

bring her uplast thing evergoneforgether – never Bad dreams“Do you know why I could never bring myself to look into her eyes? Do you? Because all I’d see there – all I’d ever see – would be you. And do you know what would happen then? I’d rot inside, Madison. Every time I saw a reflection of you, I’d rot inside.”

everyouShe didn’t say anything for a long time. She closed her eyes again, half wondering if she’d open them to discover his hands wrapped around her all-too-thin arms, ready to throw her from the room. When she lifted her eyelids, she found that he hadn’t moved. He was standing – stock still – by the window, gradually relinquishing the poison in his voice, with every breath that slipped between his lips.

“Go and find your… friend,” he told her eventually. “There’s nothing left for you here.”

friendAnd she knew he was right. Carefully, Madison turned back towards the door. Her slow, careful footfalls were the only way she could mitigate the weakness in her knees; or the sensation running down her legs which warned her that, if she wasn’t careful, they’d give way beneath her. Her heartbeat slowed, the fast rhythms brought on by Grainger’s verbal assault now gradually dissipating.

As she reached for the handle, she heard the first light taps of rain on the glass. She chanced a look behind her. The light that coated Grainger was duller now, masked in part by the dark clouds that were starting to fill the sky. The moon had been bright; now, there was only rainfall.

She wasn’t expecting him to speak again. She’d already grasped the handle and started to turn it when she heard his voice.

“I’ve looked her up. Checked in on her, once or twice.”

It took her a moment to process that.

“Who?” she asked, without moving.

“Alice,” he answered.

She released her grip on the door and turned to face the man – the monster – at the window.

“H – ‘ow is…?” she stammered, losing control of her voice, at a loss for what to say.

“She’s fine,” he said, assuredly. “Happy. Content. She has everything she needs. She’s doing fine without you.”

That was supposed to comfort her, she realised.

“Better off, in fact,” he finished. “You understand? Better off.”

She nodded. She may not have known what ‘irony’ was, but she understood that.

Leaving him to the encroaching darkness, Madison pressed down on the door handle and left the room.

She went to find Clarissa; as she walked, she did everything she could to internalise the pain. She was sufficiently well practiced in her art to ensure that she offered no outward sign that anything was wrong.

Because she knew – just like the pain of all her yesteryears – it would get its own release in time.