Forgive Me

It was a life.

‘You shouldn’t waste any time,’ Marcy urged. ‘If you don’t get back to her right away, she’ll find someone else. You can do this.’

In spite of the anxiety tightening her heart, Claudia said, ‘OK, I’ll call her now,’ and tapping Andee Lawrence’s number on the phone screen, she looked at her mother again as she waited for the connection.

Marcy’s face was full of hope, eyes bright with encouragement and Claudia knew she was doing this as much for her as she was for herself.

‘Hi, Andee Lawrence speaking.’

Claudia’s eyes drifted to the rain on the windows. ‘It’s Claudia Winters,’ she said, feeling oddly as though she was stepping into another world, with no knowledge of where she might land. ‘I got your message. I– it’s possible I could help you, but I need to know more about …’

‘Oh, thank goodness,’ Andee replied in a rush. ‘Maybe we could meet at the property so you can see exactly what’s required – and I’ll have to pray you won’t go screaming off into the night when you see what I’m asking for.’

With a smile, Claudia said, ‘We only arrived in the area a few months ago so I haven’t really set myself up yet, so I don’t have any workers or suppliers, at least not locally.’ Could she contact the team she’d used before? No, of course not. Was she out of her mind? ‘If you’re in a hurry …’

‘Don’t worry, we can work it out together,’ Andee assured her. ‘I have plenty of contacts, and if you need help sourcing fabrics I can make several suggestions, although I’m sure you’re much better connected in that field than I am.’

Since she wouldn’t have to use her old name when placing orders, Claudia said more confidently, ‘OK. If you text me the address and a time I’ll be there. I have no other commitments so I can fit in with you.’

‘Music to my ears. I’ll do it right away.’

Clicking off the line, Claudia wondered where her mother had gone but didn’t go to look. Instead she walked to the window and rearranged the folds of a gauzy drape. She really didn’t think Andee Lawrence’s call was a trick, something set up by her sister-in-law, but she could no more stop the thought than she could the traffic outside. She scanned the Promenade for familiar faces, but saw only raincoated tourists braving the late September weather and locals going about their business.

‘No one’s out there,’ Marcy said gently as she came back into the room. ‘You don’t need to be scared.’

Claudia turned around. ‘I know,’ she replied, and drew a hand down her slender neck as though to relieve the tension, ‘and one of these days I might stop thinking there is.’ She smiled. ‘It’s not happening as often now.’

It was true, the sense of being followed or watched was no longer as consuming, and she’d even stopped seeing Eugena in the supermarket, coming out of the station, in the café, walking towards her on the beach … Women who actually looked nothing like her could morph into her for brief, horrifying moments, but thankfully she was getting this under better control.

It wasn’t quite the same with Marcus, for she still had nightmares about him and his cruelty; awful, terrible scenes of violence and anger that stayed with her after waking up, that even revisited her during the day. Eugena had known what he was like, and some sadistic part of the woman had actually seemed to enjoy all the terror and misery her brother inflicted. ‘That’ll be the address,’ Marcy said, as a text arrived on Claudia’s phone.

Claudia read the message twice and turned shining eyes to her mother. ‘She wants to meet later this afternoon,’ she declared, surprised by a pleasing rush of eagerness. ‘She says to bring wellies, an umbrella and a portfolio of my work.’

With a cry of joy Marcy came to embrace her. ‘This is going to be your first commission as Claudia,’ she stated determinedly. ‘We should celebrate when you get back. Jasmine’s going to be over the moon.’

Knowing how true that was, Claudia felt another burst of happiness, while thinking of the interior magazines she’d had to leave behind that contained lavish colour spreads of her designs. It wasn’t possible to use them for they connected her to the past. However, she had an impressive PowerPoint presentation on her iPad that didn’t identify her at all. ‘I should text Leanne Delaney to thank her for suggesting me,’ she said, starting to clear the table. ‘Even if I don’t get the job, it was lovely of her to do that.’

‘We could always,’ Marcy suggested carefully, ‘invite her to celebrate with us, if she’s free, and if it happens.’

Claudia tried to picture it, someone else here in the flat, raising a glass with them as if they were friends. It was an exhilarating thought, and she’d certainly warmed to Leanne on the few occasions their paths had crossed.

I can do this, I really can, she told herself as she began collecting together everything she was going to need. And by the time she’d lugged it all down to the car her imagination was so busy conjuring a dynamic and fruitful meeting that she didn’t even think to check if anyone was watching her.

CHAPTER EIGHT

Dan’s been here today and surprise, surprise, he’s ‘very disappointed’ by the last letter I wrote. ‘Archie,’ he said, ‘you and I both know you can do better than this, so come on, lad. Step up to it.’

What he doesn’t seem to understand is that I never really care too much about disappointing people; I’ve been doing it for so long I might even be better at it than memorizing songs.

Anyway, he said he wouldn’t come back if I didn’t start playing the game (he didn’t use that phrase, because none of it’s a game to him), what he actually said was, ‘You’ve seen the last of me if this is how you’re going to behave.’

I said, ‘Bye mate. Nice knowing you.’

He looked at me with those laser eyes of his and kept on looking at me until I chucked up my hands and said, ‘What’s going on, man? What do you want from me?’

‘You know what I want.’

I did. He thinks you have a right to know about the person who hurt you, and he reckons that deep down I want to tell you.

I don’t know what kind of planet he lives on – can’t remember where Superman comes from now – but hey, like I’ve said before he’s not an easy bloke to argue with, so in the end I gave it up. I don’t want him to stop coming (wouldn’t tell him that) and he could be right that I do want to tell you, though it beats me why I would. Or why you’d want to hear it.

Let me warn you right off that mine is not a good story, and I’ve got no skill as a writer, but I guess you’ve got that picture already.

So here goes: I already told you my mother’s a nutjob and that we lived with my grandparents until one croaked and the other got carted off to the whacky shack. Before that happened it was their job to keep me out of the hands of social services when my ma was away. Everyone knew Ma would go mental if she came back and found I was gone, and I promise you really don’t want my ma going mental. Where did she go when she was gone? Depends. Sometimes she was in nick for not paying her council tax, or shoplifting, disturbing the peace, that sort of thing. Other times she was taken away to places I didn’t know anything about until I was older. BJ would turn up when he felt like it, give her a beating then stuff her in his car and drive off. Sometimes we didn’t see her for weeks and when she came back she’d be in a right state, shaking and crying and needing a fix so bad we had to give it to her. (Shit is never difficult to get hold of on our estate.)

When she wasn’t in nick or off doing stuff for BJ – what I really mean is when she was sober and not feeling shit-scared of the world or mouthing off at it the way she sometimes did (complex woman my ma) – she’d have a go at taking care of me. She’d buy me clothes, cook my food (terrible cook) and tell me to get on with my homework like she even knew what it was. My mates all thought she was weird, but they kind of respected her because she never got in my face about stuff, and would let them treat our house like it was theirs.

I never told any of them about the clearing up me and my gran had to do after one of her bad days. Gross it was, and I didn’t talk about the low-grade smack I used to get for her from Leroy two doors down to stop her tearing herself to bits. No one needed to know about any of that, although they probably did anyway, just never mentioned it. Most of the kids had one parent or both who got rolling stoned every day – and there was none of the good stuff in our neck of the woods, I can tell you that.

Did I ever try it myself?

Course I did. I’ve done it all, collie-weed (that’s some dank-ass marijuana that is, you can get really toked on that, know what I mean); crack, meth, black tar, all the trippy shit, you name it. First time I had some I was about six, I guess, and I remember how much it made the grown-ups laugh. I expect it was a hilarious sight watching a kid get high, although I think mostly it sent me to sleep.

My big connection to the recreationals started when I was about ten and BJ decided it was time to get me initiated into the real world, meaning his world. So next time he turned up at our gaff, instead of taking my ma after he’d roughed her up and helped himself to what dough she had, he took me instead.

Was I scared? You bet, but he made me feel kind of grown up, so I soon got over it, especially when he explained what I had to do.

‘It’s simple,’ he said. ‘I get the gear from the dudes I know – you don’t ever want to upset them, Archie, not if you got an urge to stay alive – and then I drive you around to make the deliveries. A kind of newspaper round, if you like, but these days we’ve moved on a bit.’

‘What are we delivering?’ I asked him (talk about green, but remember I was only ten).

‘Stuff. You don’t need to know what it is, but it’s serious quality and it’s our job to get it to the PCs who pay top dollar for it.’

‘PCs?’

‘Posh C***s. They buy big, I mean seriously big, for their carousels – orgies, pimp fests – but you don’t need to know about that, cos you’re too young for it all, and it don’t involve you. You just have to make the delivery while I wait on double yellows like we’re DPD or Yodel, then I take you to the next drop-off, and same thing happens. Never, never hand anything over to the client until you’ve got the cash in your hot little hand. Understood? Whatever excuse they give for not having any on them, we’re not NatWest with the telephone banking, so you do not part with the goods until they’ve paid. If they start kicking off, you just leg it back to me, bringing the stuff, and I’ll sort it out. Got it?’

‘Got it.’

‘You’ll be expected to keep your mouth shut about this, so don’t go bragging to your fuckwit mates and playing the big man when you get home. If you do I’ll know and I won’t be happy. And you know what happens if I’m not happy. Your old lady gets it, that’s what’ll happen and you don’t want that now, do you?’

I began earning some decent cash almost from the get-go, and you should have seen some of the places we delivered to. These PCs lived in some serious gaffs all over the West End, down by the river, around the City … I never knew where we were half the time, or what the areas were called, I only got to know that later when I was older and able to get the Tube on my own if BJ wasn’t available. I understood by then that the dudes he worked for were based in North London – sorry no names or exact places, info classified – and that what I was delivering was mostly chem-sex drugs which can be crystal meth, GHB, miaow miaow, that sort of thing. Sometimes though it was cash or phones – that was more inter-gang stuff – and later, when I got myself a reputation as someone reliable, it was shivvies and even toolies. (That’s knives and guns to you.)

Yeah, I moved weapons around the country, sometimes going as far north as Manchester or even Glasgow. I slipped between the cracks like a shadow, they said, meaning no one ever really noticed me. It seemed I had a knack for keeping my head down, or looking harmless, or just plain dumb. The other kids didn’t have it so easy and a few got caught. If that happened and the PCs heard about it all hell would break loose with the dudes because business would have to shut down for a while. But everyone knew to keep their mouths shut; if they didn’t someone close to them would pay and they’d never grass anyone up again.

Anyways, when I wasn’t working believe it or not I was at school, turning up randomly after being away for a week or two and the teachers would say, ‘Where you been Archie?’ ‘Did you bring a note from your mother?’ Once or twice the head called me in for a chat, but it never really came to anything. You see, I never acted up or caused trouble like some of the others; I wasn’t violent, or disruptive, or a threat to their points system. When I was there I just kept my shit together and did the work. Otherwise I think they’d have excluded me for all my absences, but that only happened a couple of times and they always took me back.

I’m going to stop this letter now because I have to be somewhere, but I’ll give it to Dan the next time he comes so he can ‘clean it up’ as he puts it.

Before he leaves I’ll ask him how you are, and I expect he’ll tell me, and then I’ll wish I hadn’t brought it up. It always goes like that, but I can’t just say nothing can I, not when I’m doing this for you even if it never ends up getting to you.

CHAPTER NINE

As Claudia drove up to Westleigh Heights, following the directions Andee had texted her, she was doing her best to spot any ‘for sale’ signs outside the properties she passed. This was one of the areas where she, her mother and Jasmine had agreed they’d like to settle, on the edge of town, close to the moor and overlooking the bay. However, homes here didn’t come up often and there didn’t seem to be anything new to the market today.

Finally reaching the board she’d been told to look out for announcing an exclusive development of eight detached residences each with half an acre of land, she indicated to turn in. Fifty metres or so along a wide dirt track pitted with puddles and potholes she arrived at what she presumed to be the unfinished show home. Its style was mock Tudor, not exactly to her taste, but it was certainly striking and would probably turn out to be quite impressive on completion.

As she parked alongside a sleek black Mercedes, a tall, dark-haired woman in a padded raincoat and welly boots appeared from around the side of the house and waved a greeting.

Waving back, Claudia ran to the boot of her car, gathered up her heavy fabric-sample books and the holdall containing the tools of her trade, and ran through the wind and drizzle to where the woman was now waiting at the unvarnished front door.

‘Hi, you must be Claudia,’ she smiled warmly. ‘I’m Andee. Lovely to meet you.’

Immediately arrested by the unusual blue eyes, Claudia felt a swell of gratitude towards the woman as she shook her hand. ‘I hope you haven’t been waiting long,’ she grimaced. ‘I got caught up on the coast road, I’m afraid.’

‘Roadworks, I know, but don’t worry, I have plenty to do here to keep me occupied. Let’s go in out of this gale. It’s still pretty much a shell, as you’ll see, but at least the main structure is complete and the windows are in. Kitchen not finished, I’m afraid, so I can’t offer you tea or coffee, and plumbing not connected either so if you need to spend a penny you’ll have to go behind a hedge, or along the lane to the Portaloos.’

‘Where are the builders?’ Claudia asked, taking in the spacious entrance hall with black and white chequered floor tiles, ungrouted, freshly plastered walls and large oak staircase. ‘Everywhere seems so quiet and didn’t I read on the sign that completion is due by Christmas?’

Andee groaned as she went through an open set of double doors into a substantial room with a granite fireplace at its centre, built-in bookshelves, two large smeary windows at one end and double French doors at the other. ‘They’ve just been fired,’ she explained. ‘They only got the job because the firm the developer normally uses was tied up elsewhere. Fortunately, the builder of choice has unexpectedly come free, so he and his team are starting tomorrow, which gives us a fighting chance of completing by early spring.’ She held up two fingers, firmly crossed. ‘Late, but not as bad as it might have been.’

Claudia smiled and stooped to set down her bag and books. ‘Are they all sold?’ she asked, not sure whether she was interested, but there was no harm in finding out.

‘I know that six have deposits on them,’ Andee replied, ‘but there are two left on the south side, closest to the moor, and frankly they’re going to be dark.’

Claudia wrinkled her nose. They certainly didn’t want a dark house.

‘Are you looking?’ Andee asked. ‘Because if you are there’s a gorgeous old Georgian coach house that’s just come on the market. It belongs to the original Haylesbury estate. We’re on the Haylesbury estate here, by the way. It’s in serious need of renovation, but the structure seems pretty sound. Would that sort of thing interest you?’

Claudia’s heart had already tripped with excitement. ‘Absolutely,’ she confirmed. ‘It’s a dream of mine, bringing an old Georgian property back to life.’

‘Then I think you’re going to love this one. It’s mostly single-storey, for the carriages to drive in and out of once upon a time, with a clock tower at the centre and beautiful arched windows along the front of each wing. We can take a look at it after, if you like. It’s not accessible from this plot, we’ll have to go back to the main road and in through the old estate gates about a hundred yards further on. The manor burned down about ten years ago and was never rebuilt, so there are just open fields behind it that lead on to the moor.’ Picking up a laptop from the small trestle table she was using as a desk, Andee said, ‘I’ve got some photographs of it here somewhere, but before we get to it we probably ought to focus on this place. I can show you the sort of thing I have in mind because the developer wants it to be similar to another show home we did together last year. Which isn’t to say I’m not open to new ideas, if you have any.’

‘Is the developer someone you work with often?’ Claudia asked, taking out her iPad ready to present her own portfolio.

‘And also live with.’ Andee’s smile was so infectious it made Claudia break into one of her own.

As they swapped devices Claudia said chattily, ‘Are you from this area?’

‘Indeed I am. Graeme, my partner, isn’t, but he’s been here so long he might as well be. And you?’

Claudia felt herself flush. Although she’d expected to be asked about her life before Kesterly-on-Sea, she already didn’t want to deceive this woman. ‘Oh, I–I’m from London,’ she said awkwardly, and opening up Andee’s show-home file on the laptop she began to scrutinize what had been done before.

Minutes later she was feeling almost childishly proud as Andee swiped through the shots of her work on the iPad, murmuring words like, ‘wow’, ‘amazing’, ‘stunning’, and ‘so original’.

Realizing she might be appearing too interested in her own designs, Claudia continued scrolling through Andee’s photographs, but she hadn’t got far before Andee said, ‘Put that down. What you have here is so much more … sophisticated, different, but please don’t ever tell Cassie I said that. She’s who usually does the drapes and soft furnishings for me. She’s gone to take care of her invalided father, by the way, and isn’t expecting to be back any time soon. Did you do all the cushions and throws in these shots?’

Claudia nodded.

‘And the bedspreads?’

Claudia nodded again. ‘Making things is my passion,’ she said, trying to sound modest, but not sure she’d succeeded.

Andee swiped through the presentation again. ‘You have an incredible eye for colour and detail,’ she commented admiringly, ‘and presumably a thriving business – unless all these pictures were taken in your own home.’

Claudia laughed as a flutter of nerves went through her. ‘No, they’re from clients’ homes,’ she replied, ‘or past clients.’ She couldn’t think what to add to that apart from, ‘I’m glad you like what you’ve seen.’

‘I love it, and if you’re interested in the commission we need to start talking dates, styles, fabrics, pricing … You mentioned on the phone that you haven’t built up a team of workers yet, but there’s a good chance you can take over Cassie’s. Do you have someone to do the installations?’

‘I don’t,’ Claudia admitted, ‘but if …’

‘Not to worry, I can help with that. Now, if you take a look at the show home on my laptop you’ll see the furniture that we’ll be bringing here. The colours have come out reasonably well, but it’s probably best if we visit it in storage so you can be certain of shade. Before that though, we should discuss style. So, over to you. Can you talk me through how you see these windows and French doors being dressed?’

In her element now, Claudia began to describe her ideas, illustrating them with examples of drapes she’d made before, suggesting modifications here and there, varying lengths and swags, pleats, tucks, linings and waterfalls, always careful to gauge Andee’s responses before continuing.

Two hours later, having been into every one of the six downstairs rooms and all five upstairs with Claudia taking photographs, making sketches and explaining her vision, they were back in the hall and laughing at how fast the time had flown.

‘I think we’re going to work very well together,’ Andee announced, clearly as pleased with their new partnership as Claudia was, ‘especially if you can pull most of it off inside a month. Obviously you’ll need plenty of backup for that, so I’ll make some calls from the car on my way home to pave the way for you.’

Claudia said, ‘Thank you, and I’ll try to email over estimates of cost by tomorrow. If I think I’m going to have any problems sourcing the fabrics we’ve discussed I’ll let you know right away.’

‘Excellent. And thanks so much for coming today. I finally feel as though everything’s going to be possible again.’

Thrilled, Claudia tucked away her measuring tapes and camera and heard herself saying rashly, ‘I’d really like to see the coach house before we go?’

‘Of course, I’m glad you reminded me. If I’d known I’d have brought the keys with me, but you’ll get a pretty good idea of it from the exterior and if you don’t fall in love with it on sight I’ll have to review my already high opinion of you.’

It took all of three minutes to drive back down the lane and along the road to where a set of dilapidated gates was wide open and partially unhinged. Claudia drove in behind Andee and followed the Mercedes along a short track with one simple curve, and although the rain was coming down heavily now nothing, absolutely nothing could detract from the charm of the house they saw before them, as they pulled up. It was just as Andee had described it, with a central clock tower, and two single-storey wings either side of it, each with three huge arched windows that had clearly once been carriage doors. Apart from its perfect symmetry and the exquisite limestone façade (badly stained and cracked, but repairable), its character seemed so alive and welcoming that Claudia was ready to believe it was waking up just for her.

Her passenger door opened and Andee jumped in, quickly closing it behind her. ‘What do you think?’ she asked eagerly.

Claudia couldn’t tear her eyes away. ‘I already love it,’ she murmured, gazing at the weather-beaten front door with a broken transom above it and crumbling pillars holding up a storm-damaged porch. ‘I’m going to take a closer look, if that’s OK?’

‘Be my guest. In fact, I’ll come with you.’

Pulling up their hoods they picked a path through what must have once been a carriage turning space, now cracked and weed-strewn, and went to peer in through the arched windows to the left of the front door. Claudia’s heart instantly swelled at the sight of a huge, old-fashioned kitchen swathed in grime and cobwebs, with a boarded-up window on the far side above a grimy butler’s sink, and barred French doors leading to the back yard. It had so much potential that she simply couldn’t stop her imagination from flying.