The room beyond the door was dark and shabby. It wasn’t a house but they had guessed that already. It looked as though at some time it had been a small warehouse, maybe a workshop, but now it was nothing. There were a couple of chairs and a table with scarred metal legs and a cracked Formica top, old and sad. In one corner was a camp bed with a sleeping bag rolled on the bottom. The opposite corner was hidden from view behind a curtain, strung from a rope, which in turn was hooked around a couple of nails in the wall.
The girl scuttled towards the table where she bent to retrieve Jean’s walking shoes. She handed them over, “Wet, sorry.”
Jean shook her head, she had dragged on the dirty, still damp clothes. She screwed up her face as she pushed her feet into cold, gritty trainers. The young woman grabbed at her arm and pulled her towards the door, ‘Go, quickly.” But Jean stood her ground, she laid a hand across that which was gripping her, the knuckles tight, the thin fingers digging into soft flesh on the underside of her arm. Carl stood silently watching the two women, he had taken a step towards the door, and was undecided now about just who was in charge of this situation.
“No, you have to tell us what this was all about. You have to help the police.” The girl shook her head and dragged Jean, pulling at her desperately.
“No, you go now. Quickly, if he comes and sees what I’ve done… I don’t know what will happen. You go now. Please. I don’t want him to hurt you, I don’t want him to get into trouble.”
Carl spoke for the first time since they had left the store room, “It’s a bit late for that, isn’t it? He – whoever he is, is already in trouble I think.”
The girl spun towards him, “No, if I let you go now, you don’t tell anyone.” As she became agitated her accent was more pronounced, the almost perfect English slipping. “You go. Just, leave it all. There is nothing to do.”
Jean joined in, “But, who are you, why have you done all this? Who was that poor girl in the canal?” The girl was shaking her head back and forth desperately.
“No, no, I can’t tell you anything. Just go. I let you go now. You should thank me, not stand and ask questions. Run away, leave us, this is our business.”
“No,” Jean snatched her arm away as she spoke out, “No, that’s not the way it is. A woman is dead, we,” she pointed at Carl, “we, can’t just walk away. You have to go with us, we must go to the police.” The other woman screamed in frustration and turned to the table where the huge carving knife, which had been used to threaten Carl, lay on the cracked and dirty top. She snatched it up and brandished it in front of her.
“Go, go now and just keep your mouths shut. If you bring police here, he will kill you, and maybe he will kill me also.” She glanced towards the door, anticipating the return of the man who was causing her such fear. Carl leapt forward smashing down on her hand with the broken metal bracket. The knife crashed to the floor and he bent quickly to retrieve it. Grasping it firmly he waved it towards the girl, whose eyes were wide now with terror. She groaned and rubbed at her damaged hand. “Jean, come on. Let’s just get out of here. We’ll come back, we’ll bring the police, but first let’s just get you home.”
Jean wasn’t going anywhere. She held a hand towards her nephew, spoke quietly into the tension. “No, stop it. Carl, please, lower the knife,” she turned to the young woman who had backed away into the corner, her hands clasped over her mouth, smearing blood across her face. There were tears of panic tracking down her cheeks. “It’s alright, he’s not going to hurt you. Nobody is going to hurt you.” She glanced at Carl, “It’s no good Carl, if we go now they won’t be here when we come back, will they? We don’t even know where we are, if we run they aren’t going to hang around for us to bring the police. And, we can’t leave her. Look at her she’s terrified.”
Back to the girl. “Come with us. Come and tell the police all about it. They’ll help you. They’ll keep you safe. I don’t believe you killed that poor soul in the canal. You have to tell the police about your…friend, tell them why he did it. They’ll sort it all out. Just come now with us. You can’t stay here anyway, when he finds out what you’ve done he might hurt you. I don’t want you to end up dead.” Jean had stepped slowly across the dirty floor as she spoke. Carl watched, the knife lowered, but still held before him, pointing towards the girl who was backed as far as she could go against the wall.
Jean took another couple of careful steps, she held out her hand, “Come on. Let’s all go. You come with us and we’ll make sure you’re safe. He can’t get away with what he’s done. You know that’s not right. He has to explain, he has to tell them why he did it.”
The girl curled into a ball, squatting with her arms wrapped around her knees. She was sniffing and gulping. She raised her hand and wiped at the tears. More blood smeared across her face. Carl was swept with guilt as he saw the result of his actions on the young, tender skin of her hand. He had never struck a woman before and wouldn’t have imagined it was something he could ever do. Now the passion of the moment was fading, leaving him with shame and regret. He moved to join his Aunty. “I’m sorry I hit you. I’m sorry. Come with us. Tell the police all about what happened and let them deal with him. He’s done a terrible thing and it has to be sorted out.”
She raised her eyes to them and shook her head. “No, no you don’t understand. Paul, my friend, Paul, he has done nothing. Oh…” she paused, “Yes, he should not have taken you, that was bad, but he was desperate. But, nothing else, he didn’t do anything else. He didn’t kill Suzanne, she was his sister. He didn’t kill her. He tried to save her.”