CHAPTER 29
They featured on the front page, as well as in what seemed like half the rest of the paper. It was a style of reporting I had already come to recognise and despise: a story too shocking for their readers, see pages 2-26 plus special colour supplement.

It wasn’t quite as bad as that, but there was a lot to read. Mam set out a couple of camping chairs, Rosie sitting beside me as I read. Dear god, and I had thought my time with the bastards had been a taste of hell. It seemed I had been given an easy time, compared with what I read.

It had been another children’s home, another secure establishment for ‘little problems’, and the pattern had been a familiar one. The people who ran it were cut from similar cloth to Mr and Mrs Parsons, but had somehow managed to take things to an entirely new and higher level, one so unutterably evil that the tabloid hacks were unable to reveal, etc, but see pages…

All I can say is that Charlie and Don had worked there, and there had been a locked room in the cellar where one inmate had been found after at least three days without light, food or water. Police were now digging up the grounds looking for other children, or what was left of them. Somehow, I managed to read the whole collection of articles, with the artist’s impressions and mug shots, and it was quite a while before I realised Carl was squatting in front of me. I was staring at the front page, at Don, and Charlie.

“Your Mam’s sent over some hot chocolate. That tea’s gone cold. I… saw the names, girl. Recognised two of them. What do you want to do?”

My voice wasn’t my own, just then, but it said something about not knowing, just before Rosie’s arm was around my shoulder.

“Never alone, Debbie. Never again, OK? Not going to ask, just say. I think that place was like the one you were in, so we don’t need no explanations. We just need you to think about where you want to go, but not today, not today. This is our rally. Deal with those cunts another day, right?”

I nodded, and she was off into a non-stop flow of gossip, covering everything from the weather forecast to how Sam was doing in his new home. That one brought me up to a state close to awake.

“Eh?”

“Ah, Deb, he was never that sharp a tool, was he?”

“Had a sharp knife, though!”

“Was that a joke? Bugger me! Hope for my best friend, then. No, Sam’s never been a high-flier, so he’s gone to a sort of special college. Back living with Mam for now, but he’s here this weekend”

“How could he not be? Where is he?”

“Helping set up the bar. Carling here…”

I looked up at that, with a smile, trying to feel good for my own best friend, and a young man I realised had a brighter soul than he ever let the ordinary world see, and she blushed.

“Carl thought it would be best not to have Sam around until you had had a chance to get your head straight. Once you’ve cleaned your face up, we’ll do the rounds together. Your Mam brought any handcuffs?”

“What?”

Rosie’s grin was almost normal.

“Rally virgins, Deb! Weather’s set fine, so I think there’ll be a naked body or two to ogle. Or laugh at, either way. And we’ve got a damn good band on Saturday night! Brought those boots?”

She carried on with her prattle, and bit by bit, we settled into the weekend. I tried to stay at the van on the Friday night, but Sam appeared at the stall at seven, bringing me a hug, a kiss to the cheek, and the determination to drag me over to the marquee, where I found myself dragged up to dance with Gandalf, Dad, Sam himself, and a very hopeful Nutty, who spent the evening staring wistfully at Rosie.

I thought that’s two of us, lad, but I think my reasons may be just a little less comfortable.

Good weather, good sales, and Mam did indeed have some handcuffs available for the Saturday morning, which caused even more laughter when the main instigator of the strip show lost the key. Dad laughed happily when they appeared at the stand asking if we had a spare.

“Deb? Grab me one of the clothes pegs, and you, son, can grab us each a bacon sandwich”

“Huh?”

“Price of admission, or rather release, duck!”

One slow, quiet moment of appreciation, and the bacon rolls were gone. Dad led me over to the victim, a young man of around twenty, who looked a little apprehensive, as Dad was snapping the peg open and closed, giving the lad a really evil grin. Considering how many sensitive and vulnerable body parts were on display, I could understand the lad’s nerves. Dad played it up for about twenty seconds, before quickly pulling the peg apart, stowing the wooden bits in his pocket.

“Springs, Deb. They need elasticity balanced with some stiffness, so they do well as lock picks. See the right-angle bend? Now watch”

One end of the spring went into the keyhole, and Dad wriggled it for a second or two, and then the cuff opened, one naked young man showing great relief as he sat up, rubbing the marks on his wrist.

“Thanks, mate! Right bunch of bastards, that lot. Said they’d only leave me here for ten minutes, but it’s like three bloody hours! Got ants in my arse crack, I have!”

I looked up as a shadow passed overhead, to see a red kite inspecting proceedings, and I couldn’t leave well alone.

“Be careful, I would. Seen one of them take a burger out of someone’s hand, and you’ve got your sausage out…”

I am sure he left scorch marks on the grass as he ran to his tent, and Dad and I sat for a while until our laughter was back under control. He looked at me, eyes twinkling.

“I was right, then? Got our girl back?”

I grinned back.

“Yeah, suppose so! What’s this band like, tonight?”

“Ah. Heard of them, I have. Do a lot of stuff like the Stones, Small Faces, some Sabbath, that sort of thing. Very metal, duck, very rocky”

“Would you mind if I had a few drinks, tonight, while I dance?”

He stared at me, face neutral.

“You know you don’t have to ask, love”

“I know. Just, well, feeling a bit wobbly”

“Self-confidence? Hard not to, really. Just have a think, about how many people here know you, duck. How many folk have your back. You get as pissed as you like, and you’ll be safe. Just try not to start relying on the booze, OK? There are better things to depend on, and you live with two of us”

“There’s nobody here that would…”

“What’s left of them would have to get through me and Loz first”

“What do you mean ‘what’s left’, Dad?”

“Getting older and slower, Duck. I think Goat, Rosie and Sam would be on them before either of us two got there”

Something in my face gave me away, so, not for the first time, he took me in his arms.

“You are stuck on him, aren’t you, my sweet?”

I nodded, but I had to speak, had to make things clear.

“Yeah, all girl me, even if, you know. It’s just that every time… Every time, I see those faces, smell them, feel them on me, and it all turns too shit. Yes. I love him. Fuck all I can do about it, though, so time to move on. We cooking tonight, or using the pub?”

He shook his head.

“We need a family chat, duck. Just the three of us. Sort out what we are going to do about those two pieces of shit in the paper”

The day crept past in a stream of happy faces, folding money and happy laughter, until we three were finally sitting in the frame tent at our folding table, a beef stew with shop-bought bread shared between us and tea steaming in our mugs. Mam started the conversation.

“Choices, love. You still have them. Carl picked up today’s paper for us, and there’s a little more in it, but you can read that tomorrow, if you really have to. They have at least two bodies out of the back garden. There’s also evidence that they were supplying the kids to nonces. That is all I am telling you tonight, apart from the fact that there were coppers involved”

“There were coppers involved in Runcorn, Mam”

“I know, love. Anyway, story so far is that it was all down to one lad, who was lucky enough to be recognised by a friend who had enough money to get the place staged”

“Eh?”

“Surveillance. Think long-lens cameras. The amount of stuff they’ve already made public, they have a bomb-proof case. Which is where you come in”

“Why me?”

“Why you, love? Because you are someone who could add a whole new pile of shit onto those two bastards. Get them done for your old place as well as that hellhole in Carlisle. See them shit themselves, see them in the flesh”

I couldn’t read her face, but there was something worrying her.

“You don’t like the idea, do you?”

Dad reached out for my hand.

“We don’t, duck. Neither of us. You’re not eighteen yet, which means we’d lose you straight off. You’d probably end up in another home”

Mam added the icing to the shitcake he was showing me.

“Coppers involved in this one, love. Coppers in that place you were in. You trust coppers?”

I didn’t need more than a second or two to work that one out. Turn up to give evidence, and then risk being handed back to more of the same filthy crew.

“Fuck that one for a game of soldiers”

I drew a few slow breaths.

“What time’s this band on? I need to get changed. Men to tease, straights to outrage, beer to drink”

Dad snorted.

“What straights?”

I gave him my best little-innocent-me expression.

“Who’s talking about just the weekend? There’s always straights to outrage!”

Once more, Dad murmured something about getting his girl back, and once I had finished my meal, I changed into my shortest skirt, tightest top, and those boots. The band were indeed good, and I rocked out the night. They did ‘Brown Sugar’ and ‘Tin Soldier’. ‘You Really Got Me’, ‘Woman from Tokyo’, ‘Sabbath Bloody Sabbath’, even some David Bowie, with ‘Jean Genie’ and ‘Rebel Rebel’, finishing off with ‘Born to be Wild’, which had everyone in the tent bellowing along to the verses as well as the chorus. All of my family and friends were around me, hair flying, Sam strutting a mean air guitar, and yes, I drank far too much, but the simple fact remained that I was safe.

It wasn’t just those around me that meant that. I felt that anyone who tried to come at me would meet the whole of the rally, and they would end up badly hurt. No; there was enough evidence to sink Charlie, Don and their friends, without me needing to throw away my shield, which was rocking out around me on a warm Welsh night.

The hangover took a whole day to clear, but it didn’t stop me from picking up the newspapers each day, which was how I found out about Don.

I don’t know who was responsible for the first bit, which was Don’s temporary release on bail for some spurious personal issue, but I have strong suspicions as to who may have left him floating face-down in the River Eden.

One down.