His Kidnapper's Shoes (6 page)

He hugged her. ‘Hey, what’s up? You look kind of…weird.’

‘Nothing. Think I’ll keep that one for another time. You’ve got this impression of us being the stereotypical happy family – well, we were. We are. Apart from the skeleton rattling around in the closet. Dan, do you mind if we don’t go there? Not something I want to talk about right now.’

‘Aw, you’ve got me all intrigued. You will tell me, right? One day? Going to open the closet door and let the skeleton out?’

‘Yes, I’ll tell you, one day. Just not now.’ She looked away. He'd never seen her like this - withdrawn, reflective - and it bugged him.

Ah, well. He'd prise it out of her eventually.

He needed a little deflection again. He opted for Australia.

‘Are your family really going to be OK with their precious baby girl living on the other side of the world? Anyway, what about you? You’re not going to miss them?’

‘Of course. I’ll miss them like crazy, but they love me to bits; Mum and Dad would never want me to hold back on doing what I want because of them.’

‘Do I get to meet them sometime?’

‘Yes. You do. Don’t look so worried. They’ll like you.’

‘Katie, you’re a doctor. You’ve been to medical school. You save lives for a living. What was your dad before he retired - some sort of high roller in the banking world? I manage a small shop cum art gallery and it’s not even mine. I just run it for someone else. Am I going to be what they want for you?’

‘Dan, this isn’t the nineteen-fifties. You don’t need permission from my dad to date me. They won’t care what you do work-wise. Dad may have done well in his banking career but he’s not a snob. Neither is Mum. They’re pretty down to earth people.’

‘But you’ve not told them much about me, have you?’

Katie sighed. ‘Not a lot, no, but not because I’m ashamed of you, or whatever you might be thinking. Oh, don’t pull that face. I’ve not known you long, but I reckon I can guess what you’re thinking a lot of the time.’

‘Scary. Now even my thoughts aren’t private anymore.’ He kissed her. ‘So what’s with the secrecy, if you’re so close to them? How come you’ve not told them about the handsome sex god you’re dating?’

‘It’s partly because you’re becoming, shall we say, pretty important to me, that I’ve not said anything. You’re right. Mum and I are really tight, and usually I tell her every last detail about who I’m seeing, straight off.’

‘Yeah. That makes perfect sense. You meet Mr Wonderful – that would be me, in case you’re in any doubt – and you don’t tell your mum. Whereas every Mr Wrong who’s passed through your life gets a mention?’

‘Hey, it’s not like I haven’t talked about you. Mum knows I’ve been seeing someone. That’s another thing. Every time we speak on the phone, she asks me a hundred questions about you. I’m a wicked daughter, Dan.’ She laughed, a relief to him after her earlier withdrawal. ‘I love keeping Mum in suspense, teasing her. I’ve not even told her your name yet. She knows you’re my toy boy and yes, being two years younger than me does qualify you as a toy boy. I’ve let slip how you’re tall and look like you’ve stepped off a Hollywood movie set and that’s about all. She’s threatening to camp out here in my flat until she meets you.’

‘OK. I get the bit about how you like to wind your mum up. That all there is to it?’

‘No.’

‘You going to let me in on the rest this side of Christmas?’

‘It’s hard to explain.’ Katie sighed. ‘This may sound crazy but the reason I’ve not told them much about you yet is because of the way I’m starting to feel about you. It’s like when you’re a kid, you know? Talk about something and you jinx it. I’m eight years old again in my head and you’re a wonderful secret I’m carrying around with me. I want to keep you all to myself for a while longer. Make any sense?’

‘Not a bit.’

‘Sounds mad, I know. Listen, I will tell them about you, and soon. Anyway, Mr Hypocrite, I bet you've not mentioned me to your mum and stepdad yet.’

‘I did say I’d been dating someone. The thing is - I’ve only seen Mum a couple of times since we started going out and it was the usual with her, you know? She treats me as if I’m a kid – “Are you eating properly?” “Are you wearing enough warm clothes?” It never stops.’

‘Tell me about them.’

Christ. He needed this like a dose of the clap coupled with a bad case of the shits.

‘You’re going to have to tell me about them, Dan. I’ll be meeting them someday, if this goes anywhere between us.’

‘I know. It’s just…well, from what you say you had a happy childhood. You’re close to your parents. Some of us don’t come from that sort of background.’

‘You’re right. I guess I’m one of the lucky ones. You really can’t tell me about them?’

He couldn't go on avoiding the subject; he knew that. He’d tell her the bare bones and hope like hell that would be enough for now.

‘OK. Mum had me when she was young, at eighteen. Her mother had died a few years before. Her only other living relative was her grandmother, on her mother’s side.’

‘Was she a single mum? What about your father?’

‘An engineering student. Aspiring musician, too, from what she’s said. They’d been saving up; planning to get married once he’d finished university in London. Then do the living happily ever after bit. Except things didn’t work out like that.’

‘What happened?’

‘He died in a car crash. Huge pile-up on the M4. She was seven months pregnant at the time.’

‘Jeez, Dan! Hardly a happy ever after scenario you’re giving me here.’

‘You’re right. Must have been hellishly rough. I can’t imagine how Mum coped, to be honest. Might explain why sometimes…she suffers on and off with some sort of depression, Katie. Withdraws, barely speaks, needs medication.’

‘What was your father like? You a chip off the old block?’

‘I've never seen any pictures of him. She never talked about him when my stepfather was around. Chip off the old block? Yeah. Mostly, from what I've been told. Apparently, he was tall, with dark hair, like me. Brown eyes. Not like me. Good-looking, she always said. Definitely like me.’

Katie laughed, before her expression sobered. ‘Sounds like your mum had life tough at a young age. No father, no mother…she had a grandmother, you said?’

‘Yeah. I’m not sure when she died; I get the impression Mum finds it hard to talk about her. She was really close to her, you see, in a way she doesn’t seem to have been with her own mother. At least, that’s what comes across from what she says. Which isn’t much. Must run in the family, the not being close to your mother bit.’

‘How old were you when she got hitched to your stepfather?’

‘She met him when I was nearly five. Married the bastard about a year later.’

‘Hmm. I'm getting the impression, loud and clear, you two don’t get on.’

‘Yeah. You could say that.’

‘What’s the problem with him, Dan?’

‘You mean apart from him being a total asshole?’

‘Yeah, but what makes him an asshole? Look at me, Dan. Tell me.’

This was the bit where a dose of the clap might well be preferable. He’d tell her enough to keep her from asking too many questions. Ian Bateman was an area where he wasn't going to linger.

‘He’s one of life’s stereotypes, Katie. One of those who never have an opinion against the norm. Supports Fulham because he’s a guy and hey, guys from round our way all support Fulham, so he does too. Same reason he plays golf on Sunday. Oh, and of course…’ Sarcasm curled Daniel's mouth. ‘He’s a complete Philistine, despises anything to do with books, music or art. All art, but especially mine. “Artists are hippies and fools and should get a proper job”. A common refrain with him.’

‘Is he the reason you’ve never pursued your art as a career? When I’ve noticed every time you talk about it, your eyes light up like crazy? And there’s this animation in your voice you don’t get any other time. Is that why you think he’s an asshole?’

‘You got it. When I first mentioned doing a degree in art, he didn’t stop banging on about it for days. You’d have thought I wanted to study paper folding, for God’s sake. Told me, when Mum wasn’t around…’ He tensed. He could hear his stepfather's searing contempt in his head. ‘He said I was a waste of space, a dreamer, and if I thought I’d ever make a living out of slapping paint on paper I was even stupider than he’d thought. Told me no way would he ever pay one penny towards me doing an art course.’

‘Didn’t your mother stick up for you? What did she say when he spoke to you like that?’ He heard raw anger in Katie's voice, temporarily drowning out his stepfather's contempt. Not that it ever left him for long.

‘He never did when she was around. He saved up the crap for when she went out. He wasn’t exactly warm towards me when she was there, but he never did or said anything out of line. She was surprised I never studied art at college, but she had no idea he was the reason. She doesn’t have any money of her own, or I presume she doesn’t, given the fact she gave up work when she married him. I wouldn’t have asked her anyway. I think she always expected my stepfather would provide the funds if I wanted to go to college, so when I didn’t, she thought I didn’t want to.’ He laughed bitterly. ‘Not the case. I’d have given my right arm to study art.’

‘Except then you wouldn’t be able to paint. Yep. Your stepfather sounds like a complete asshole.’

‘See, apart from art, there was nothing else I wanted to do. So I left home as soon as possible, did delivery work, bar work…ended up managing the shop where we met. I do art classes as and when I can.’

‘You’ve not seen much of them since?’

‘Not really. He plays golf on Sunday. I go round then to see Mum. She does the traditional Sunday roast bit because she’s not convinced I eat properly now I don’t live with her. I leave as soon as I can and always before he gets home.’

‘So what about your mother? How come you don’t get on with her?’

‘She’s what I call a smother mother. Always has been. Promise me you’ll never fuss over whether my socks are warm enough.’

‘Perhaps you’re being a bit hard on her. Isn’t that what mums do? Mine still worries about me. I know my gap year was tough on her.’

‘Yeah, I know, Katie. She doesn’t have a great deal in her life, I suppose, and she’s always made me the focus of it. It can be a bit difficult to deal with at times.’

‘She get on OK with your stepfather?’

‘Yeah. In her way. She’s always been a traditional wife. Shirts ironed, washing done, his meals cooked.’

Katie laughed. ‘All the things I will never be doing for you.’

‘The funny thing is - I may think he’s a prick, but she doesn’t. She really does seem to feel affection for him, hard as that is for me to understand. I always thought he cared more for her than the other way round, though.’

‘Do you think he really does care about her? Or is it the fact he has an on-tap maid service?’

‘That’s the weird part. When I lived with them, he genuinely seemed to love her. Showed in little ways…I don't know, like the way he looked at her, his tone of voice, although he could be pretty controlling towards her.’

‘What’s your mum like?’

‘She’s nothing like me. Petite, comes up to just under my shoulders. Not bad for her age…she was really pretty when younger. She has a picture of herself, when she was eighteen, holding me not long after I was born. Dark blonde hair…and big blue eyes. Heard my stepfather tell her enough times her eyes were what drew him to her when they first met. He actually sounds romantic – except that’s not a concept you’d associate with him – when he says it.’ He yawned. ‘You finished interrogating me about my family? Can we get some sleep now?’

‘Yep. Don't think you're completely off the hook, though.’ She grinned. ‘I’m going to make you a full English breakfast tomorrow, lover boy. There's something new I want to try in bed. Believe me, you'll need all the fortification bacon and eggs can give you.’

7

HIS WORD AGAINST MINE

My already fractured world was about to split apart even further, and the hopelessly naïve girl I was back then had no idea.

The woman from the house where I was lodging had gone out for the evening and the eight-year-old boy was at a sleepover. The man sat downstairs drinking beer, as usual; he didn’t figure in my thoughts for even a second. I lay on my bed, Gran, planning how to tell you about my pregnancy and hoping you would understand and not be too disappointed in me. I thought I could come and live with you; I’d be the best mother ever and give my child the love and stability I’d never had. Maybe I’d take some courses at the local college, get some qualifications after my baby’s birth. It’ll turn out all right, I promised myself.

I was jolted out of my daydreams by the door banging open. The man walked in.

He’d never come into my room before. Every part of me instinctively backed away from him, wanting him gone.

He sat down on the bed. I inched my legs away from him, drawing them up beside me.

‘So,’ he said. ‘You still seeing that boyfriend of yours?’

His words startled me. I didn’t think anyone knew about Matt. I’d never actually lied about him, but every time we’d met, I’d given the impression I was going to see a female friend from school. I thought I’d face fewer questions that way.