Page 39 of #MeToo
Billie thought she was going to faint. The thuggish-looking bald guy who had stared her out and gave her the creeps was Doog, Stan’s cellmate!No, it couldn’t be.She’d asked Stan if he was in the visiting hall, and he’d never pointed him out. Why? The thug had been there a few times, giving her the evils. And even when she’d said the bald guy was freaking her out, Stan didn’t bat an eyelid. And now, according to Chatty Woman, it seemed they were ‘thick as thieves’. What the hell was going on?
Her mangled, manic thoughts were interrupted by the assistant calling out ‘next please’ so Billie had no alternative than to move along while at the same time, Doog’s girlfriend went to the farthest checkout and paid for her things. Billie was too flustered to even consider carrying on the conversation so returned her departing wave then concentrated on Iris.
All Billie wanted to do was go home. The drive over the tops would give her time to think. She needed to process this information which, on top of the revelations about Stan’s propensity for lying, as told by his own mother, brought her out in a cold sweat.
After she’d collected the parcel and with trembling fingers fastened Iris into her car seat, Billie settled herself behind the wheel, tilted back her head and sighed before turning on the engine. Her whole body felt weak from exhaustion and nerves, embellished nicely by a creeping sense of fear while disappointment hovered on the periphery.
Joining the queue for the motorway, the cars crawling towards the M627, Billie pictured Stan’s face that day in prison when he’d held her hand tightly and looked at her with those sad, scared eyes and asked her over and over, ‘Please, Billie, please believe me.’
As she sped down the slip road and onto the black tarmac, Billie said out loud, ‘I want to, Stan, I really do.’
30
In a world where it is possible to contact each other with a click or a tap, via messages, emails, tweets and even photos, to have to wait by the phone for someone to ring you, at their whim, was sheer torture. While Iris slept and Claudia stomped and clattered about in the kitchen below, playing her own bad-tempered tune with the pans and doors, Billie sat on her bed and stared at her phone, willing it to trill.
This was worse than being a loved-up teenager who’d given her number to some gawky lad. This was real, game-changing stuff and whatever Stan said when he eventually got to the front of the queue, could potentially alter their lives. Billie had rehearsed what she was going to say and what she was going to ask. She wasn’t going to rant or make accusations. No, she would simply mention her chance meeting and wait for him to explain why he allowed a thug to make her uncomfortable and omitted to mention said nutjob was his cellmate, oh, and his new thick-as-thieves bosom buddy.
In the meantime she listened in wry amusement to the voices filtering up through the floorboards as her dad placated her mum. The irony of how roles had been reversed wasn’t lost on Billie. Moments earlier she’d put Claudia firmly in her place about Christmas arrangements, and then left her to have a mini tantrum.
There was no way that Billie was going to choose between Sue and Darren and her parents, so she’d suggested they all spend the day together at Sue’s, who’d offered to do the honours. That way Iris would get the best of both worlds and Stan’s family would have company. Billie was happy to drive so all her mother had to do was be the bigger person, for once in her life. The cacophony below was her way of coming to terms with being backed into a corner. Claudia wanted Billie and Iris to go for lunch with them at her aunt’s, like they did every year. Billie had refused then thought of a compromise. Her mum and dad would see Iris open her presents there, then Billie would spend the rest of Christmas Day and night with Sue and Darren, that was final.
There was so much going on in Billie’s head that her mother’s meltdown was incidental, especially when the ‘big night out’ was looming and Sue’s uncomfortable revelations were gnawing away, never mind Stan’s tendency to be frugal with the truth!
The phone sprang to life, the vibration causing it to shuffle along the bedside table and make more noise than usual. Billie snatched it up quickly and swiped. Stan only managed to say hi and ask how she was before a red mist enveloped her.
She unleashed a torrent of questions and accusations that were nothing like she’d rehearsed. ‘You want to know how I am, do you? Well I’m totally pissed off and you’re bloody lucky I haven’t blocked this number after what I found out today. Do you think I’m a complete mug or is this your way of getting your kicks and manipulating me?’ Billie sucked in air and ignored how hot her cheeks felt.
‘Bill, what the hell is wrong? Calm down and explain… I have no idea what you’re talking about.’
‘Don’t you dare tell me to calm down!’
‘Okay, okay, I’m sorry, bad choice of words. Let’s start again. What have I done wrong? I don’t understand.’
Billie was furious and she hated being told to calm down. It always made her angrier and he knew that, which annoyed her even more.
‘I’ll spell it out for you, shall I? Doog. You know, that ugly-looking baldy thing who used to stare me out on visiting days. Well it seems you omitted to mention he was your cellmate, you know, revenge-porn guy, nice bloke, easy to get on with?’
There was a deathly silence, then Stan found his voice. ‘How the hell did you find out? Has he contacted you? I told him to keep his distance.’
‘What the hell do you mean “keep his distance”? You’d better start talking, Stan, because I am so mad with you right now…’
‘Okay, right, listen. Yes, the bald guy is Doog, my cellmate and it was his idea to give you the death-ray stare, not mine. I did tell him to pack it in but he’s got a will of his own and thought he was helping. He didn’t really mean any harm.’
Billie was dumbfounded, just for a moment. ‘Helping, how?’
‘He got it into his head that if you saw how intimidating some prisoners can be it would spur you on to help me… I know it sounds daft but that’s the way his mind works and he took it upon himself. I swear I didn’t suggest it. That’s why I told you not to make eye contact with anyone. It was easier than controlling him.’
‘No, Stan, the easy way would have been to say: “See that nutter over there who thinks he’s in a gangster film? Well that’s my freak-show cellmate.” Boom, job done.’
A sigh came down the line. ‘Well now you put it like that, I suppose you’re right.’
‘Oh yes, I am right and I have a feeling that you played along with it because deep down you’re desperate for my help and chose to put my feelings last. That’s out of order, Stan, and you know it.’
‘I’m sorry, Billie, I swear I am.’
‘And don’t bloody swear on anything and anybody because it’s bollocks and I’m sick of it. I’ve trusted you. I’ve believed every word you’ve said and stuck my neck out to help you and I feel like a fool. Can you imagine what’s been going through my mind? You know I hate it when you lie and this has rocked my confidence in you. It’s made me re-examine everything and I’m actually beating myself up about that and I don’t deserve it, Stan. I even questioned whether you’d really been beaten up or not, or were you faking that too?’
The shock and hurt in Stan’s voice when he replied was plain to hear. ‘Bill! How can you even think that, never mind say it? You saw my bruises! How could I fake that?’
