Maggie Jamieson Crime Thriller. Noelle Holten
need their mums, but there was just no way I’d put my princess through that.’
Patrick went on to tell Shell about Rory. How he’d last seen him ten years ago and, when Rory made contact via Facebook, Patrick knew they had to meet up. He told Shell that he had needed to explain his side of the story to Rory, because his mother had just left one day without an explanation, taking him with her.
Shell gasped. ‘How could she do that?’
Patrick shrugged his shoulders. ‘Still don’t know. Maybe she was having an affair? Who knows. I don’t care anymore, I’m just happy my kid found me.’
They had continued chatting until the pub closed and said their goodbyes outside. Patrick kissed Shell on the hand and suggested they exchange numbers. She reluctantly agreed but made it clear that she wasn’t into breaking up families. Patrick had mumbled a comment, but Shell just waved it off and headed home.
Lucy had a meeting with Claire Knight before work that morning. The knots in her stomach were agony, because she dreaded having to make yet another excuse for Patrick’s no-show. The loud snores from downstairs reaffirmed that he’d spent Sunday night drinking himself into a stupor and was still sleeping it off.
After getting into an argument with Patrick on Saturday about Siobhan’s school dance, Lucy had left him to his own devices for the rest of the weekend. It was best to avoid him when he was in one of his moods.
When Siobhan had come home on Sunday, Lucy was the one left to tell Siobhan Patrick’s decision. The little girl’s tears broke her heart and once again, Lucy was left to pick up the pieces. Siobhan barely said a word to them that evening and Lucy was furious. She could only hope that Siobhan would sleep off the disappointment as only kids could do.
Lucy took Siobhan to school and waved goodbye to her at the gates. She headed to the nearby Costa, grabbed a coffee, and rushed to Claire’s office. She hated these meetings. Hated lying. But if she wanted to keep Siobhan safe from her mum and from Patrick, she knew she had to play the game.
Lucy gave her name at the reception desk and sat down to wait. Within minutes, Claire came out and called her through.
‘Hi, Lucy. How are you? It’s been awhile hasn’t it?’
‘Hi, Claire, yeah, it has. Maybe three months?’
‘Wow! Well hopefully we can withdraw our involvement completely if everything keeps going as well as it has. Where’s Patrick today?’ Claire had a funny look on her face and Lucy knew that her excuses were probably being questioned.
‘He has a job interview.’ Lucy smiled and couldn’t believe how easily the lie rolled off her tongue.
‘Hey, that’s great. I hope something comes of this one. It has been quite some time since he lost his job, right?’ Claire probably guessed there was more to the story of Patrick’s unemployment. But Lucy was a strong, protective factor in Siobhan’s life; Claire wouldn’t want to upset that.
Lucy hated the look of pity on Claire’s face. ‘Yeah, it feels like forever, though. Can be a struggle supporting four people on my wage alone.’
Claire coughed and looked up from the notes she’d been writing. ‘Four?’
Oh shit! Patrick is going to kill me!
‘Um. Well, not always four … What I mean is, Patrick’s son recently made contact and stays over some weekends.’ Before Lucy had the chance to change the subject, Claire pounced.
‘Really? I didn’t know Patrick had a son. How old is he and can I get some more details off you?’ Claire began writing furiously in her notepad, and Lucy bit her lip angrily. Just when social services were finally looking to get out of their lives.
Shit! Shit! Shit!
‘Of course.’ Lucy gave Claire as much detail about Rory as she knew offhand and told her she’d have to email later with the rest.
As he was only fifteen years old, social care would have to do some further checks on Rory and speak to his mother. Although this would not affect the case with Siobhan, who knows what Patrick’s ex would say to Claire? Lucy could just kick herself. Patrick had made it clear to her, on more than one occasion, that this was all her fault because she’d called the police once when Patrick came home drunk and kicked off.
Siobhan was already known to social care because her school had contacted them when Becky arrived drunk and caused a scene. She had told social care that Patrick’s abuse made her drink and, although there was no evidence recorded, any child that came to spend time overnight with Patrick had to have an assessment.
Lucy didn’t know much about Rory’s mother or why she left Patrick – he’d always clam up or get angry when she asked questions – but she had a pretty good idea what had happened. If she was right, and Claire went digging further, Lucy was expecting all hell to break loose.
Shell couldn’t seem to get Patrick out of her head as she worked. She pushed the vacuum across the floor of the office, careful to avoid the plant pots as her thoughts returned to him once again. Who was this guy? She was reluctant to get involved with him, even as friend, but she had to admit there was something about him.
Shell’s own experience of a violent father made her portray herself as hard and overly cautious. But Patrick seemed really genuine when talking about his children, and Shell knew that some women were bitter when relationships ended. Maybe things had been blown out of proportion.
The anger she felt towards her father, who was currently serving time at Her Majesty’s pleasure, often invaded her thoughts. She couldn’t believe that nearly seventeen years had passed; even though she was now thirty years old, it only seemed like yesterday.
Shell knew what happened to her mother wasn’t her fault, but there were days when guilt still ate away at her. She’d only been thirteen years old – what could she have done?
The nights when Shell managed to get some sleep were filled with nightmares. Her mother screaming as Shell hid in her room, hoping she hadn’t been heard, wanting to run down and stop her father. The glass table shattering. The million pieces of ice-like shards rotating through the air and scattering across the floor. Her life had been changed forever the moment she had gone downstairs and seen her mother’s battered body, barely breathing, in a heap on the living room floor.
She shuddered when she recalled the smirk on her father’s face. Him standing in the doorway watching her. Shell running towards him, him shoving her back so hard she hit her head on the corner of the broken table.
‘Get the fuck away from me, you little bitch. Just like your mum.’ The memories after that still only came to Shell in brief flashes. Hazy. According to the police reports and pictures from the night, Shell sustained a head injury that affected her memory.
Shell had drifted in and out of consciousness that night in the hospital, but she’d never forget the look of pure hatred and disgust in her father’s eyes. How he had kicked her mother, grabbed his coat, and walked out the door.
Shell felt a cold chill up her spine as she bent over to switch the vacuum off. At the time, she’d spent a few nights in hospital and now, as she subconsciously rubbed her head, it was only the psychological scars that remained. It didn’t take the police long to find her father, though. He was arrested a few days later, pissed up in a pub a few miles away, and charged with the attempted murder of her mother.
Her father had initially pleaded not guilty – which meant Shell had had to give evidence in court, thankfully via video link– but it was all part of his desire