‘Hello?’
No answer.
‘Is anyone there?’
There was nothing on at the community hall tonight (there was nothing on most nights), and all the lights were off save for the yellow security light over the front door and a couple of streetlamps nearby. The small car park was empty but she thought she could see something moving over by the metal wheelie-bins at the side of the building. Probably just a fox or a rat, something disgusting like that. Or was she just imagining it? She told herself to get a grip and get home, to stop freaking herself out over nothing.
‘Hello?’ she called out again, just to be sure.
Someone stood up. It was a man. What the hell was he doing hiding behind the bins? Her pulse started to race but then she relaxed slightly when she realised she recognised him, though he looked completely different out of uniform. It was one of the local police; the young, good-looking one. She didn’t know his name but they’d spoken on many occasions, usually when he was looking for Jamie or one of his dickhead mates when they’d been causing trouble. But this was different. Tonight it looked like he was the one in trouble.
‘You okay?’ she asked.
He just looked at her, didn’t say anything. Concerned, she walked across the car park to where he was standing… where he’d been hiding. Shit, was this some kind of police operation like she’d seen on TV? Had she walked into the middle of a drugs bust or something? But there was no one else around and he wasn’t trying to stop her.
‘Is something wrong?’
He nodded and beckoned for her to come closer. She saw that he had tears streaking his face, glistening in the security light. Poor love. He looked so vulnerable, so frightened… afraid almost. His uniform shirt was hanging out and his hair was all ruffled like he’d just got out of bed.
‘What’s the matter?’
‘I don’t know,’ he said.
‘Are you hurt?’
‘No.’
‘Are you in trouble?’
‘Yes.’
Bloody hell, he was lovely. His unexpected vulnerability just added to the appeal. She thought about Chez slumped in front of the TV at home with a can of lager in his hand and a fag hanging from the corner of his mouth. Why couldn’t he be more like this man? His broad, powerful shoulders, strong features, cute hair… Heather had had sex loads of times with loads of kids, but she’d never been loved, never felt protected, never had someone make her feel wanted, not even Chez… especially not Chez. She looked into the policeman’s eyes, so full of life, and dared to dream about how he might make her feel. But she was just a school kid letting her mind run away with itself. Nothing was ever going to happen between a girl like her and a man like him.
‘You okay?’ he asked, and the fact he cared enough to ask made the warmth and wanting inside her increase. She just wanted to be close to him now, to hold him and to be held.
So she wrapped her arms around him.
To her surprise, he reciprocated, holding her tight. It felt wrong, but it also felt so right.
She could feel his hands around her waist, could feel his breath on the side of her face, could smell him… She was starting to think he wanted her like she wanted him, but they couldn’t, could they? What would people say? Somehow that made her want him even more. She felt herself moisten when she saw he had an erection.
Her first time had been around the back of this building with a spotty little kid at a youth club Christmas disco a few years back. It had been freezing cold. The sex had been fast and painful, devoid of any emotion or attachment – everything her first time shouldn’t have been. Even now Chez was little better. Sure he told her he loved her and said the things he thought she wanted to hear, but it was still usually an empty fuck on his terms and for his benefit. She wasn’t particularly experienced but, right now, standing here holding the policeman like this, staring deep into his eyes, feeling his gentle hand caressing the side of her face, she felt supremely confident. She wanted to feel him inside her so very badly.
It was wrong. It was dangerous. They were out in the open. She was much younger than him and he’d get into all kinds of trouble if anyone found out… but Heather and PC Hamilton did it just the same. They stripped, then fucked fast and hard and beautifully against the wall of the Thussock community hall.
19
Scott prised one eye open then closed it again. Then he sat up fast, panicking. Déjà vu. It was late afternoon but it felt just like it had a couple of mornings back… someone banging angrily on the front door, waking him up. He hadn’t gone into work today, calling in sick so he could catch up with some sleep while the kids were at school. Michelle had been keeping her distance, giving him space, so who was at the door?
At first he didn’t want to answer it, couldn’t stand the thought of going through all that again if it was the police, but he knew he didn’t have any choice. He was the only one in the house and any refusal to talk would inevitably be construed as an admission of guilt. Mouth dry with nerves, wearing only a T-shirt and briefs and shivering with cold, he walked towards the front door. He could see an outline through the frosted glass. If it is the police again, he thought, I’ll sue the fuckers for victimisation. It didn’t look like it was, though. There were no patrol cars with flashing blue lights on his drive this time.
When he yanked the door open, Scott did a double-take. Standing on his doorstep was Jeremy, Tammy and Phoebe’s dad, Michelle’s ex. ‘What the hell are you doing here?’
‘Sorry to turn up unannounced like this,’ Jeremy said.
It was cold outside, but not cold enough for Scott to let him in. He went out instead and pulled the door shut behind him. ‘I thought the agreement was you and Michelle arranged contact in advance. You’re not supposed to just turn up. Why didn’t you phone?’
‘Couldn’t get through.’
‘We’ve got a landline now.’
‘What, and I’m supposed to just guess the number?’
‘You could have sent a text.’
‘I did. I heard you had some grief with the police.’
‘That’s got fuck all to do with you.’
‘I know that. I’m just here because of my kids.’
Scott remained in front of the door, arms folded like a nightclub bouncer. Jeremy took off his wire-framed glasses and rubbed his eyes. The last thing he wanted was conflict. If it came down to a physical fight between him and Scott, he knew he’d inevitably come off second best.
‘Your kids are fine. Everything’s fine.’
‘I’m worried about the girls. I’m worried about all of you, actually.’
‘We’re all right, thanks for your concern. You can go now.’
‘I got this garbled message from Tammy on my phone on Sunday night when I got home… I tried calling her back but I think it was a payphone.’
‘It was. She had… there was an incident.’
‘What kind of incident?’
‘Someone exposed himself in front of her. The local pervert.’
‘Jesus. Was she…?’ He didn’t need to finish his question. Scott was shaking his head.
‘I got to him first.’
‘Thank you,’ Jeremy said, and he meant it.
‘I don’t need your thanks. I smacked a deviant in the face because he was flashing his dick at your daughter. That’s why I had grief with the police.’
Scott just wanted to go inside and lock the door and shut Jeremy out but he knew he couldn’t. Physically he could, but that wasn’t going to help anyone. Jeremy was a weed, always had been. A strip of piss, was how Scott usually described him. While Scott had always worked with his hands, Jeremy was a dyed in the wool pen-pusher. Dull. Boring. No wonder Michelle had left him.