Nowhere Child Read online

  ‘Shh, darling, you’re safe now,’ she says. And for just a moment I believe her.

  *

  I know Emma has contacted the policeman – Tom. I heard her speaking to him on the phone after we had all calmed down and my crying had stopped. I don’t know how long I cried for, but Emma says it was nearly an hour. And she held me the whole time, dragging Ollie towards us so he could join in.

  When she told me she had spoken to Tom, she saw the fear in my eyes and she understood.

  ‘Tasha, you are not in trouble with the police. I promise you. They’ve been looking for you, but only because they were worried about you and they want your help. Tom will explain.’

  I start to cry again. If she was right, two of my reasons for running away no longer counted. Emma didn’t hate me, and the police weren’t going to arrest me.

  We haven’t really talked. She’s just said that now I’m back, I’m home for good – no arguing. I haven’t asked what my dad will think of that, and I don’t really want to see him. I’m not sure how that’s going to work. I want to be with Emma, but I don’t think I can stay with him. She hasn’t phoned him yet – she only called Tom, so I think she must know I don’t want to see him. I don’t want anything to change the feeling that’s in the room right now. It feels like love to me.

  Emma pulls up a chair next to me and grabs my hands.

  ‘Tasha, you need to understand that although I’m not your mum and I know I will never replace her – I wouldn’t even try – I do love you and you’re part of this family with me and Ollie. Okay? Don’t ever, ever, run away from us again. Do you understand?’

  I look at her for a moment, and slowly nod my head. But I don’t understand. Not really.

  It’s as if a light has suddenly been switched on because her eyes open wide.

  ‘I’m so sorry Tasha,’ she says, taking her bottom lip between her teeth. One hand slides up my arms and she cups the back of my neck. In an instant I know what she’s going to say, and when she speaks the words they’re not a shock.

  ‘Your dad died a couple of days after you disappeared.’ Her arm moves round my shoulder and she pulls me a little closer.

  I don’t know what to feel. I remember loving my dad when I was little, but he did a terrible thing – he betrayed me and Mum. I didn’t come back for him, but it suddenly hits me that I’ve got nobody now. Nobody that I really belong to.

  I look at Ollie, so cute, so chubby, and now fatherless. I don’t know how he died and I want to ask Emma, but I have no doubt that it was because of me and I don’t want to hear her say the words.

  ‘I’m sorry, Emma,’ I say, my voice catching again.

  ‘Sweetheart, none of this is your fault. You have to believe me. You were a victim, okay? And just because your dad’s not here it makes no difference to you, me and Ollie. We’re a family. I’m going to keep saying that until you believe me. I’ll tell you everything, but first we need to get you used to being around here and starting to feel settled. And I want to know about you, too – where you’ve been, how you’ve been living.’

  She thinks she wants to know, but I’m not going to tell her how it really was. She wouldn’t like it, and it would only make her cry.

  I’m saved from having to make up a rosy version of my life by the doorbell ringing.

  ‘I hope that’s Tom and not those bloody Jehovah’s Witnesses again,’ she says. ‘Mind you, they would probably claim that God brought you back here.’

  ‘It was the number 87 bus,’ I say with an attempt at humour. Emma smiles as she makes her way to the door.

  I can tell by her voice that it’s Tom. She sounds excited, and I am beginning to believe that she is genuinely thrilled to have me back. She told me it was okay for her to contact Tom – that he wasn’t going to arrest me. But I’m not so sure.

  The door to the kitchen is pushed open, and I stare warily at this big man. At a shout of ‘Ay’ from Ollie – a habit he has clearly not got out of – Tom briefly turns his attention to the little guy and ruffles his hair, then turns to me with a smile.

  ‘Hi, Tasha,’ he says, his voice gentle. ‘It’s good to see you.’

  I think that’s a good sign, but something tells me this is just the sweetener, and any time soon there’s going to be a blow that will hit me twice as hard, because now Emma has softened me up.

  14

  Tasha looked appalling. Tom had thought she had looked bad enough after a few years living with Rory and Donna Slater, but that was nothing to what he saw in front of him now. She had always been small and slight for her age, but after eight months of living rough she was practically skeletal, and he doubted if she weighed 6 stone – the equivalent of two reasonably heavy suitcases. Her cropped hair made her head look tiny, and the dark tone drained any colour she had in her face, except for her nose, which was red from crying.

  But she was alive – and Emma was clearly overjoyed.

  He had been half longing for the moment for Emma’s sake and half dreading it – because he knew it wasn’t going to be as simple as Emma thought. He had tried to tell her this a hundred times, but she wouldn’t have any of it.

  ‘There are a few things we need to talk about,’ he said as they all sat down around the table. Emma didn’t wait for him to start.

  ‘I know what you’re going to say, Tom, and I’ve been thinking about it. We’ll go away for a little holiday – that will solve all the problems. By the time we’re back, it will all be over.’

  Tasha was looking from one to the other, a slightly wary look on her tear-streaked face at the thought that there were problems.

  ‘Tasha,’ Tom said, ‘I would prefer to have this conversation with Emma while you’re in the room, because I think it’s really important that you don’t think anybody’s hiding anything from you or lying to you. You have to trust us – me, Emma, the police, social services – all of us.’

  Tom caught Emma’s look. ‘Social services – what’s it got to do with them?’

  Tom sighed. He had anticipated this but not managed to deal with it well. Emma had just ignored every breath he had uttered on the subject.

  ‘We have to tell them she’s back, Emma. She’s a minor and you don’t have parental responsibility for her.’

  ‘Yes I do. I’m her stepmother.’

  ‘Well, actually no you don’t – whatever you would like to believe. You can apply for it, but you don’t have it by default, and Tasha has never lived with you – barring those unfortunate days earlier in the year. So we have to tell them, or you’ll be breaking the law.’

  Tom could see Emma’s mouth set in a determined line, and he decided to deal with that later.

  ‘Of more concern is the immediate threat to Tasha, and by association, to you and Ollie.’

  Tasha’s head shot up.

  ‘But nobody knows I’m here.’

  It was clear that Emma had said nothing to Tasha about Finn McGuinness or the phone call she had received, and Tom knew he had to play this carefully.

  ‘Not at the moment, that’s true. But I’m going to ask if you’ll do something, Tasha, something that will help us to send Finn McGuinness to prison for a very long time. You might want to say no, but if you’re considered to be competent as a witness, and I can’t see any reason why you wouldn’t be, you can be compelled by the prosecution to be a witness in his trial. You see you’re the only person who can irrefutably tie him to Ollie’s kidnap. You understand that all charges against you have already been dropped, don’t you? You’re not in trouble with the police. We know you acted under duress – but we really need your help.’

  Tasha looked terrified.

  ‘It will be our job to keep you safe. I know Finn is evil, and you’re right to be scared of him and what he can do – even from prison – but we’ll take care of you.’

  Tasha looked down at her hands where she was picking at a hangnail.

  ‘He’s got people looking for me,’ she said quietly.

  Just as he h
ad done eight months ago, Tom felt a swell of emotion when he looked at this kid and thought of the suffering she had endured.

  ‘We know,’ he said gently. ‘They phoned Emma, to say they’re watching the house – but we don’t think they’ve got people looking 24/7 – more a random check.’

  ‘They killed Andy.’

  Tom nearly missed it, she spoke so quietly. What the hell? He leaned forwards and rested his arms on the table, speaking softly. ‘Who’s Andy, Tasha?’

  Without lifting her head and speaking in little more than a whisper, Tasha told Tom what Andy had done for her: how he had tried to protect her, and how he had been stabbed in the gut for his trouble.

  Was there no end to this girl’s suffering?

  ‘Would you like me to try to find out what happened to him?’

  Tasha’s head shot up. ‘Would you do that for me?’ she asked. ‘Really? If you do that for me, I’ll say whatever you tell me to say to the courts. Please – will you?’

  Tom nodded. ‘Of course. But you don’t have to say what I want you to. You just have to tell the truth. That’s all anybody would ever ask of you, Tasha.’

  ‘So what happens now?’ Emma asked.

  ‘When were you next planning to go and shout Tasha’s name in central Manchester?’

  ‘This afternoon – about now, actually.’

  ‘Do you follow a pattern?’ Tom asked.

  ‘Well, it’s not a strict pattern, but I usually go the same days because those are the days when we’re not doing something else. So, a sort of pattern.’

  ‘So go,’ Tom said.

  Emma looked as if he had punched her.

  ‘What, and leave Tasha on her first day home? She needs me, Tom. I can’t do that. She’s in pieces.’

  ‘Yes you can. I’m not working this week – I’ve taken a few days’ leave. I’ll stay with Tasha. Stick to your routine, and they won’t come looking. If you go into town today, it won’t occur to them that Tasha’s here. In the meantime, we’ll work out somewhere to take Tasha for her own protection.’

  ‘Wait a minute. You don’t take Tasha anywhere without me and Ollie. We’re a family – we all go.’

  ‘I think it would be wise if Tasha was taken into protective custody, Emma. Just until the trial’s over.’

  ‘And then? Will it make any difference if McGuinness goes to prison? Won’t he want revenge then?’

  ‘Let’s take it a step at a time.’

  Tom turned to look at Tasha. The girl looked terrified, and Emma had clearly picked up on this too.

  ‘Tom, the safe option might be protective custody. But I don’t think it’s the right option for Tasha. She needs the security of a home.’ Emma turned to Tasha and gave her a gentle smile. ‘She needs to feel loved – and she is loved.’

  Tom said nothing for a minute. He couldn’t force anybody into protective custody, and emotions were running high. He was going to have to come up with a plan, but for now it would have to be one step at a time.

  ‘Go to Manchester. I’ll stay with Tasha. She can have a soak in the bath, and then we’ll have a talk through what might happen in court. I’ll contact social services too – and don’t pull that face, Emma. It absolutely has to happen. Then we’ll see where we’re up to by the end of the afternoon. We all want what’s best for Tasha, so let’s not forget that.’

  Tom tried not to look at Tasha’s face. She was scared, and he knew she had every right to be.

  15

  Tom’s nice. He doesn’t seem like a policeman and he doesn’t look like one either. He’s wearing dark-blue jeans and a black jumper that looks like it would be soft as a kitten. I’ve not touched it, of course, although I nearly hugged him when he said he was going to try to find out about Andy. I can hear the murmur of his voice when I’m in the bath, because the bathroom’s right over the kitchen – but I can’t hear what he is saying.

  I don’t stay long in the lovely, soapy hot water. I could have stayed for hours, but I want to know about Andy, so I dry myself quickly. Wrapped in a towel I cross the landing to go to the room I used to sleep in. I don’t know if it is still my room, but I hope so.

  I push the door open and stand, staring into a room I hardly recognise. I look over my shoulder to make sure I’ve got the right door. But I know it’s for me. I don’t know how she did it, but Emma has decorated the room that I have been holding in my imagination for years. Only she’s done a better job.

  I’ve never had my own bedroom – well, at least not since I was six years old. But I’ve dreamed about it. The one thing I’ve wanted more than anything was to feel it was clean – not like the foul-smelling, musty bedroom at the Slaters’, where I doubt if the sheets were changed as often as once a year. Emma has somehow understood this. She’s painted the walls a very pale green like new apples before they’re ripe, and it feels as if the room is inviting me in and welcoming me. I take another step, hoping and praying that I’m not wrong – that this really is for me. As I walk barefoot across the pale, soft carpet, I see there is a tree stencil like the one in Ollie’s bedroom, but more flowery and detailed, painted in white and covering the wall behind the bed. The bedding looks so crisp and bright it would be a shame to sleep on it. I turn round and round, trying to absorb every detail. All the furniture is an even paler shade of green than the walls – almost white but not quite – and there is a huge splash of colour from the throw and cushions piled on the bed. They seem to have been made from pieces of random fabric in bright shades of everything from turquoise to deep pink, in stripes, flowers and geometric shapes.

  I sit down cautiously on the edge of the bed, scared to disturb the perfection. Has Emma done this for me? Could I have been living here all this time?

  I stand up again and walk over to the wardrobe. I pause for a moment, clutching the handle, scared to look inside in case somebody else’s clothes are there – some other girl that I don’t know about. I hold my breath and open the door. Inside are all the clothes Emma bought for me in the few days I was here earlier in the year, some still in their packaging. I pull open drawers at random, and find the same. Underwear, socks, jumpers – all clean and ready to wear.

  I don’t want to leave this magical place, but I want to know about Andy, so quickly I grab some clothes. The leggings are a bit short now – I must have grown. But they’re baggy, of course. I don’t care – because one thing they are is clean.

  When I get downstairs, Tom is making me something to eat. He says I look like I need fattening up a bit, so he’s made me a huge dish of macaroni cheese with crispy bacon on top, and he gives me a big glass of cold milk. It’s really delicious, but now he says we need to talk.

  ‘The next few days and weeks aren’t going to be easy, Tasha, and I’m not going to pretend otherwise. Until we get Finn McGuinness sent down we have to accept the fact that you are going to need to be kept safe. As I said, I’m afraid you’re the only person that can tie him without question to Ollie’s abduction. At least, the only person who might be willing to say so. Once he’s been sent down, we can monitor his communications with the outside world and make sure you come to no harm.’

  I don’t know what to say. If I don’t do this, Finn will get a much shorter prison sentence. I know it. But if I do speak against him, will I ever be safe? Will Emma? Will Ollie?

  ‘What are you thinking, Tasha?’

  I’m not sure if I should tell him what I’m frightened of, so I play for time.

  ‘Did you find out about Andy?’

  Tom nods. ‘I’ve spoken to Becky, my inspector. Do you remember Becky? She’s going to make some phone calls, and as soon as we know anything, I’ll tell you. I promise. It was very smart of you to do what you did. I wouldn’t normally praise somebody for stealing a handbag, but in your case it was a really bright idea.’

  He looks at me and smiles, and I know he’s waiting for the answer to his question about what’s worrying me.

  ‘If I say something in court about Finn, he’s go
ing to want to get me, isn’t he?’ I don’t know why I’m asking a question that I already know the answer to.

  ‘He’ll be locked up, so Finn won’t be able to get to you. But I won’t deny that he has contacts outside prison – other members of the same gang or people that are just plain scared of him. He and Rory were just one part of that organised crime group. You might not know this, but they all answered to a boss – a man called Guy Bentley. He’s dead – but somebody else will have taken over. We’re going to look after you, though, I promise.’

  I still don’t really know what that means. Will they look after me until the trial or after the trial or both? Will they look after Emma and Ollie too? And for how long?

  I should leave here and go somewhere different where nobody gets hurt just by being with me. I should go to London or Leeds – somewhere where nobody has ever heard of Tasha Joseph. I don’t know if I’m strong enough to walk away from all of this, though, from my one chance of a family.

  And maybe nowhere is safe.

  16

  It was freezing cold in central Manchester, and Emma was glad of it because it gave her a reasonable excuse for not staying long. Nobody would think it odd that she only shouted about Tasha for fifteen minutes instead of the usual half hour – especially with a toddler sitting shivering in his pushchair.

  He wasn’t cold, of course. He was snug as a bug in a rug, to be honest – but still, it made a good excuse. She couldn’t wait to get back to see Tasha and wondered if she had discovered her room yet. Emma had loved doing it. To her it was a sort of talisman – its special magic working hard to bring Tasha home. She had thought about buying new clothes, but teenage girls change size and shape so quickly, and she didn’t know when Tasha would be home. She had only known, without any doubt, that one day she would be back. And now she was. Emma hugged the thought to her, thinking of all she was going to do to take away the pain of her last few years.