You need me, p.12
You Need Me, page 12
Her shoulders slumped as she gazed around the room. Where would she even start? What did a proper family house even look like? She wanted it to be perfect for them—her new family. She stamped her feet and cursed. Forcing herself to move, she rushed into the kitchen, a sudden burst of energy taking over her. She found a bin bag under the sink, and began to sweep away as much of the rubbish as she could. But not too much. She had to leave some stuff lying around, it wouldn’t do for Susan to think there wasn’t any work for her to do here, that she had brought her to the house under false pretences.
Morag stood back and surveyed her handiwork, the room looked slightly better than it had done an hour ago. She peeked into the kitchen.
“Hmm, it could do with a quick once over,” she said, massaging her hip joints. she felt tired to the bone. The sudden burst of energy had drained her. She yawned, picked up the nearest bag of rubbish and switched off the light, turning her back on the mounds of dishes and overflowing bins in the far corner. Instead Morag focussed on placing one foot in front of the other in an effort to keep going, trying to shake off the overwhelming feeling of exhaustion.
“You need to keep going, Morag. Come on now, woman,” she scolded herself. “You’ve got family coming, you need to buck your ideas up a bit.”
Out in the hallway, she stuffed the bag of rubbish under the stairs, jamming it in with the rest of the clutter she had tried to clear up before—for the others, who never came.
She looked to the upstairs of the house. There were four bedrooms up there: hers, her mothers, and the two spare bedrooms, both of which were empty just waiting to be filled Morag pictured the two rooms filled with life, brightly decorated and full of love and happiness. Full of family—the family that she should always have had. She crossed her fingers and said a little prayer towards the crucifix her mother had loved. Morag was not religious in the slightest but, right now, she could do with all the help she could get.
She made her way up the stairs, her feet leaden, the exhaustion now threatening to crush her. Ignoring it, she pushed open the doors of the two spare rooms, one for Lily and one for Susan. The smallest one for Susan, after all she wouldn’t be around for long. She smiled, the rooms were perfect, they would love them. Morag didn’t notice the wallpaper waft in the draft from the door and the smell of damp didn’t meet her nostrils.
She looked at the door slightly ajar and shuddered. She didn’t want Susan seeing that room, her mother’s room—she couldn’t let her see that. Going into her own room to fetch the key for mother’s bedroom, she saw her handbag lying on the bed. Peeking out the top was the photograph. She took it out and sat down on the bed, clasping it to her chest.
“Tomorrow’s a special day, sweetheart,” she whispered. “We’re going to be a family again. A proper family, just the way it should always have been. But don’t worry my precious, nobody will ever replace you.”
She kissed the photograph tenderly and placed it back in her handbag. Her hand brushed against the jar. Pulling it out she unscrewed the lid and tipped it upside down.
The paper hearts fluttered like confetti, coming to rest on her bed. Hearts as fragile as the family she had tried to create. She had only ever tried to care for them, to look out for them. But every one of them had let her down, one way or another. They had all had to leave in the end. They couldn’t be her family, if they didn’t appreciate her love. They couldn’t stay with her if they didn’t need her the way families should need each other. Alan had hurt her badly, she had trusted him, thought he was different to the others, but in the end, he was just as bad, if not worse. She had trusted him too much, confided in him, told him things about her life she had never told anyone else. Then he had betrayed her in the worst possible way. He had told her secret.
She held each little heart close, remembering the lost souls they represented. She wrapped Alan’s heart around the lock of hair she had taken from him. Before Alan it had been Fiona. Now, she had been special. Such a lovely young woman, real potential to be family But she had been so troubled. In the end, she couldn’t be trusted. Morag shook her head, remembering Fiona’s threats to tell people about her, trying to humiliate her. Ungrateful little bitch. The accident had been tragic. Fiona had run out of the house… and just before she’d reached home, there had been a hit-and-run—the driver had never been caught.
Morag had just happened to be the one who found her. The one who told police about the black car that came out of nowhere and hit Fiona. The black car that had been found abandoned minutes from where Fiona’s body lay. Imagine stealing a car, Morag had chuckled to herself, as she had torn off a small piece of Fiona’s blouse. She took the small scrap of bloodied material and held it to her nose, before carefully wrapping it back up in the heart.
Her brows furrowed as she picked up the two black hearts stuck together. Instinctively she clutched them, scrunching them inside her clenched fist. Mother and Father, joined in hellish matrimony. She scowled as she threw them back in the jar and watched them drop to the bottom entwined together forever.
The last two hearts lay on her bed reminding her of the scars she held inside, her own heart scarred by the memories. Her tears soaked the paper hearts, and she allowed the fatigue she had been fighting off to take over, pulling her into a deep sleep.
Morag woke up to find her room in darkness. She squinted at her watch. The illuminated hands showed it was six-thirty p.m. She jumped up. She had been asleep for almost three hours and she still had lots to do to prepare for Susan’s visit tomorrow.
An hour later, she was quietly satisfied the house appeared to be almost presentable. She double-checked her mother’s bedroom door was locked and the key hidden safely away.
Feeling parched she went into the kitchen to make herself a cup of tea. She should eat, but she wasn’t hungry. Instead, she pulled a packet of digestives from her cupboard and plonked them down on the kitchen table next to her tea. Reaching into the top drawer, she scrabbled about until she found her phone. She switched it on and logged into her other life.
Carla Fitzgerald—happily married mother of two, with her perfect family. This was Morag’s online alter ego. Carla had lots of friends, she was a popular lady, everybody loved Carla and her sickly sweet positivity. It was so much easier nowadays, she mused. All she had to do was pick a photograph of the person she wanted to be and create a world around them. Carla served as nothing more than a tool to glimpse into the lives of others, and it was so easy to do. Nobody questioned anything and they all shared everything —from what they ate for dinner to their latest emotional disaster. Their whole lives out there, just for the taking. Morag wished she had more time. She scrolled through the vacuous lives of her new friends, clicking love responses when in reality she wanted to tear down their perfectly filtered lives and snatch their happiness for herself.
Going to the search bar, she pulled up Susan’s profile. Susan had told Morag of her worry any online activity would alert Colin to her whereabouts, explaining why she hadn’t closed her account down. The picture showed her and Colin on their wedding day. Susan had been smart—her privacy settings wouldn’t let Morag look at her page, but that didn’t matter, all Morag wanted was the photographs. She zoomed in on the photographs of Lily as a baby, while her mind eradicated Susan and Colin from each of the scenes. She thought of Susan now, alone and vulnerable. She and Lily needed family around them and Morag was just the person to provide it for her, and some proper guidance for the child—the love a child should have. Morag could give her everything Susan could not.
Closing down her page, knowing she would not find him there, she opened up the search engine and typed in Colin Hayes, Susan’s ex-husband. Morag had helped Susan complete her benefit applications when she first met her in the library. She had noted the surname on her application was different to the one Susan had on her library card. A little bit of gentle persuasion had led to Susan opening up to Morag about her past. See, she thought, everybody trusts the quiet ones. She had promised not to tell a soul and she hadn’t. Susan Bonnar was safe as houses with her. Mrs Sonia Hayes didn’t exist.
Morag’s search threw up hundreds of articles—links to award ceremonies, video clips and high praise for this well respected officer of the law. Morag read them all, even though she knew most of the words off by heart. He was a good-looking man, but she could see the cold glint in his eyes, even from the grainy reproduced newspaper articles, she could see the cruelty shining from them.
Her favourite article appeared at the top of the search results.
Detective Sergeant Inspector in plea for missing wife and child, the headline screamed. She scanned down the article… DSI Colin Hayes makes an emotional appeal for information leading to the whereabouts of his wife and child who have been missing… Sonia is extremely vulnerable… worried about the safety of his wife and child… if you have any information…’ He had not looked after his family had he? Otherwise they would never have left him. It was up to Morag to do it properly now.
The article was over a year old now, and Morag was impressed that Susan had managed to stay under the radar all this time, especially given the influence her husband must have in the force.
“What would you say, DSI Hayes, if you knew where your wife was?”
She pictured Susan’s tortured face as she opened up texts from a concerned friend and smiled coldly.
“Family is everything,” Morag whispered.
21
Susan
Susan topped up the meter, thankful her benefits had been paid into her bank account. She turned the television on and plonked Lily down in front of it, knowing her daughter would happily sit glued to it while she put the dinner on. It felt good to have some food in the cupboards she thought as she unpacked her bags absentmindedly. Susan considered the offer Morag had made her as she started preparing their meagre dinner. She looked at the value price tin of hotdogs and beans, not wanting to peer at the nutritional value too closely. She popped a couple of slices of bread into the toaster. The extra money would come in handy that was for sure. She might even be able to save for a deposit somewhere else. Move on, further away this time. Down south maybe thought Susan. Away from her past completely, away from Colin and away from Kris. Her stomach heaved as she remembered his last text. She tried to imagine his reaction if she told him she didn’t need his money anymore. She could even offer to pay him back, in cash. Might take her longer to save for a deposit, but at least it would mean she didn’t have his threat of Colin hanging over her.
“You are being ridiculous,” she thought. Men like Kris were not interested in getting their money back in cash. No, he would be looking at her as an investment—a longer-term cash cow. She felt sick. But she had to leave it to Morag to sort, she had to trust her, she had to trust someone, surely that someone would be Morag? She hadn’t told anyone her secret. She had to trust her, she had no other option.
The toast popped at the same time as she heard her phone pinging through a message. She screwed her eyes shut, her breathing shallow.
“Ignore it. Ignore it,” she muttered. But she couldn’t, he would just keep messaging until she replied. She picked up the phone, it wasn’t Kris’s number. Her fingers hovered over the delete button before pressing accept.
“He’s never going to stop searching for you. You know that, don’t you? But don’t worry. I’m not going to tell him where you are. Just watch your back though, not everyone is worthy of your trust. A concerned friend. X”
She tried to call the number back but it was unavailable, Susan didn’t know whether to be terrified or relieved.
The phone slipped from her fingers and fell to the floor, the screen staring back at her accusingly. Then it rang.
Susan slid to the floor, watching the screen light up—a withheld number from a caller who was clearly not giving up. She stared at the phone, willing it to stop, but it continued to ring. Mindful Lily was next door and would probably come running through if she didn’t answer it, Susan tentatively picked it up and pressed reject. Immediately it rang again. She could feel the walls closing in on her. Her chest began to tighten and her breathing grew shallow.
The pan on the hob bubbled, the faint smell of burnt hotdogs and beans lingered in the air.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck! What am I going to do?” Still the phone rang. Her finger stabbed the accept button and she placed the phone next to her ear. There was an ominous silence, she breathed heavily, not trusting herself to say anything.
“Susan, are you there?”
Silence from Susan.
“Susan? It’s me, Jess. Are you there?”
“Yeah, I’m here.”
“Jesus, I’ve been ringing you for ages. Are you okay?”
“I’m fine. I was just, erm…” She looked around as she got to her feet. “…burning dinner.” She let out a strangled laugh as she yanked the pan off the hob.
“You sound like you’ve been running a marathon. Either that or doing some kinky sex line,” Jess laughed at the other end of the phone.
“How did you get my number?” her voice filled with accusation.
“Whoa! You gave it to me, don’t you remember? I said I’d give you a call, see if you wanted to catch up or anything?”
Susan heard hurt in Jess’s response and she wracked her brains, she couldn’t remember giving Jess her number, but then again, her head had been all over the place recently.
“Sorry, I forgot I gave you it. What is it you’re wanting?”
“Well, I’m at a bit of a loose end. Thought you and Lily might like a visitor? Thought I could come round and we could have a chat, y’know, catch up, that sort of stuff.”
“I’m sorry, I can’t, I’ve… er… got stuff to do. Lily needs her dinner sorting and I need to tidy up. Er, I’m sorry, maybe we could do it…” she tapered off, not wanting to commit to anything right now.
“Oh, okay then. I just thought that we were round about the same age, you seemed a little bit out of sorts, I’m on my own, thought we might be company for each other, that’s all. Sorry. Didn’t mean to offend you.”
Susan sensed her reply had hurt Jess, so she responded quickly. “Honestly, please, you didn’t offend me. I’m grateful you thought of me. It’s just, I’ve had a bit of a long day and if I’m honest, I’m done in tonight. But why don’t we meet up for a coffee or something. I’ll have Lily with me, mind?” she laughed. “Sorry, no babysitters, so it’s a bit of, love me love my kid.”
“Brilliant, coffee sounds good. I’ll check my shifts and send you a text. Sorry for the call out of the blue, hope you don’t think I was being a bit weird, I saw you in the library earlier but didn’t want to intrude, you and Lily were engrossed in some arts and crafts. I’m just feeling a bit down in the dumps at the moment, here on my own. Feeling a bit Billy-no-mates.”
Now Susan could hear the smile in Jess’s reply and felt relieved she hadn’t offended the girl, but angry at herself again for being such a sap, always finding herself cajoled into doing things she didn’t want to do.
“Don’t be daft, I’d love to meet up with you… and thank you, your kindness means a lot.”
They said their goodbyes and Susan hung up the phone, not quite sure how to feel. Maybe it would do her good to have a friend around her own age. Maybe things were not so bad after all.
22
Jess
Jess let herself into the flat and, kicked off her shoes and smiled in satisfaction as they clattered off the wall. Susan’s rejection of her offer had seriously pissed her off, she had thought they might be friends but, more importantly, she had believed she would be able to wheedle out some more information from Susan about Morag.
Still she had managed to get her to agree to meet her for a coffee tomorrow. Having checked her shifts, she’d fired off a text arranging to meet her at two in the café. Something told Jess she would need to tread carefully with Susan. Morag already had her claws into the woman and Jess didn’t want to risk spooking her. Susan wasn’t streetwise, Jess had picked up on that almost immediately. There was a vulnerability about her others would be quick to exploit. If she wanted to pump her for information then she was going to have to be subtle.
Her stomach growled and she made a beeline for the fridge. She was starving. Opening the door, she feigned surprise at the lump of mouldy cheese and half-eaten bar of chocolate staring back at her, reminding her she hadn’t been shopping in a while. Her stomach grumbled louder in protest. She wasn’t much of a big eater, preferring to pick at stuff in the café, or bringing home any leftovers at the end of the night. But she had been chasing her tail all day with no time to pick, and her early finish had meant she’d had no leftovers to bring home.
She slammed the fridge door closed and opened her cupboards, nothing there either. It was too cold outside to head back out to the supermarket for supplies. She clattered the cupboard door closed and headed back into her living room.
Jess threw herself on the sofa. Bloody hangry. Hunger and anger was never a good mix for her. It simply fuelled her bitterness at her current situation. It wasn’t fair that she was stuck in this shit hole, never having two pennies to rub together and no friends. She couldn’t even take that stupid cow, Lynn, in the library’s offer up of going to the pub, as she was skint as usual. This wasn’t the way her life should have turned out, if only her mum was still around, if only she hadn’t gone, if only she hadn’t shattered all her illusions. It was no wonder she had ended up having a breakdown.
She wrapped her arms around herself, as she imagined her mum’s voice: You need to be patient Jess, look how far you’ve come. It’s all going to work out in the end.
“I promise you, mum, I won’t let you down,” Jess whispered, taking some deep breaths. She lay back on the couch until she felt the tension start to drain away.
