Killing Fear: DVU Tetralogy, #1

By Trish McDee

Rae Spencer’s aim in life is to eradicate domestic violence. She’s 38, single and about to have a whirlwind year of changes, with a few tears and lots to smile about along the way.

  With her boss, Eve Brewer, the drive is on to educate teenagers about destructive relationships, and take the northern town of Barrow off the top of the DV tables.

Miles Kenyon and his team are also working hard to eradicate DV from the town, but in a totally different way. They believe the perpetrators should be made extinct.

The story begins in April 2008. This is the start of the journey…

 

• Language: English
• Publisher: Trish McDee
• Release date: Jan 8, 2018
• ISBN: 9781386084730

Trish McDee

Trish McDee was born in Barrow in Furness, Cumbria (it was Lancashire then) and lived there until she left to get married. She now lives in Scotland. She says: Persona Non Grata, is centred around Barrow in Furness. I got my inspiration when researching my family tree. All families have skeletons, and mine was no exception! This book is not an autobiography,though; it's fiction, but I didn't want to waste the information I gleaned from my genealogical pursuit.

Book preview

Dedication:

For victims of domestic violence everywhere, but also, and especially for, the children - who see and hear far more than they should.

Intro

Rae Spencer

It’s April 2008, and Rae Spencer works for the Barrow Domestic Violence Unit, but is frustrated because the one thing her service can’t provide is a refuge from abusive partners. She and an independently-wealthy local entrepreneur are on a mission to fund-raise so they can create one.

Rae is currently in a relationship with DCI Clive Gordon that is about to get tricky.

‘Clive... Dad, it’s me, Lynne. I want to see you,’ the girl had said. Rae was replaying this line over and over in her mind as she drove to work, her mind not on the road, only on the shock she’d had with this early-morning phone message. Why adn’t Clive told her he had a child? Was there anything else she didn’t know about him?

~ ~ ~

Miles Kenyon

Miles Kenyon is a man of mystery. He is in charge of the local centre, known as The Network, where perpetrators of domestic violence are referred in an effort to rehabilitate them, using accredited programmes. The perps use these acpro’s as a way of staying out of jail.

Outsiders don’t know who really runs this centre, who pays for it or who make the decisions.

Miles Kenyon had returned from his meeting with the big-wigs and was briefing the cadre at the seven o’clock meeting.  He knew his lads were getting restless and frustrated at the number of abusers who were attending

the centre because they were forced to, but had no intention of changing their ways.  His team was screaming for positive action.  He shared their frustrations and there was a solution but he had to make sure they knew exactly what they were getting into before he would accept them on the programme.

‘Good evening, Team. I’ll be brief. The main concern is, as you’ve made me aware, so many abusers keep coming back to this clinic on the pretext of completing the Perpetrators model, as required by the government, but use it to keep out of prison.  We all know that it’s a waste of our time and resources, and these guys are making idiots out of us. I’ve taken your reports seriously, and I’ve taken your comments higher.  I informed them of the case of Mark Howard and what he did to his pregnant wife. So, I have news. I told them we have a programme we would like to implement.’  Miles looked at each man before continuing, ‘Today, we’ve received the go-ahead to do what we need to, so we can get the statistics reduced.  If any of you have any doubts about this, now is the time to get up and leave this room.’

~ ~ ~

Trudy Welch 

Trudy Welch is a nursing assistant at the local hospital, a job at which she excels but she longs for a baby, which is why she agreed to move in with Joe Watson... and his mother – Molly - who’s a bit of a handful.

Trudy did her level best not to cry as she got Molly dressed ready for collection by the day centre bus. Once she’d closed the front door, her mind was full of the events of the previous evening.  Joe had raped her. Even if for one stupid minute she thought she’d dreamt it, the painful aftermath was real.

Trying to make sense of his behaviour, realisation hit her as she picked up the phone to ring in sick. She hesitated before dialling the ward; he didn’t want her to train as a nurse because he wanted her here, nursing his bloody awful mother

Anger and bitterness made her throw the phone down and get ready for work. She’d be damned if she’d be anybody’s slave, especially Molly’s.

~ ~ ~

Rachel Pearson

Rachel is the daughter of Nigel, the local minister and lives with him and her mother, Julie.  Nigel loves himself, and thinks everyone else does too, especially women. He has been known to stray in the past, and when Julie has complained, he’s hit her.  He’s hit Rachel, too, and knows he now has to behave, hence their recent move to Barrow – a new start and to put the past behind them. Only he’s unable to resist temptation. Rachel is disgusted that her mother won’t leave him.

Rachel waited until her father sat down at the breakfast table before she opened her mouth. 

‘So, who’s Gillian?’ she asked him nonchalantly, her eyes watching as his faced twitched; first she saw puzzlement then contempt.

‘What are you talking about, Rachel?’

‘I heard you shout ‘Gillian’ as you shagged my mother last night. Her name’s Julie by the way.’

‘How dare you...’ he began, rising from his seat.

She rose at the same speed. ‘No, Nigel, how dare you!  You’re no doubt shagging somebody else yet still treat Julie like shit. Well if you’re not satisfied with one woman, my mother, your wife, why don’t you just fuck off?’

Rachel’s eyes were glistening with anger, and it was clear she felt no fear as they stood facing each other over the table. She could sense Julie hovering in the background, her eyes no doubt resembling a timid cat but Rachel refused to turn and look at her as that’s what Nigel thrived on; catching them unawares.  Only when she saw her father ever so slightly back off did she know that he would slither back upstairs to his cess pit where he belonged.  As she watched him leave the room, the kitchen door closed ever so quietly. Julie had run away, as she always did, but the stupid bitch always came back for more.

~ ~ ~

Sally Johnson

It’s November 1976, and Sally Johnson, 8 years old, is excited about Christmas. She and her younger brother, Gary, talk about it every night before they go to sleep. Eric, their father, is excited about his next drink. Dolly, their mother, waits in fear most evenings for her drunken, abusive husband to return home. She never knows which night she’ll be beaten because he enjoys keeping her guessing.

Despite Dolly’s efforts, Sally knows, sees and hears far more than she should.

It was after midnight when Sally heard the familiar sounds, the sounds of her father returning from the lock-in at the pub. Nice and warm in her bed, she said her secret prayer quickly, silently in her head, the one she would never say aloud, knowing it’s a wicked thing to think let alone say. She wondered if God thought she was evil, asking such a thing, as Dad never seemed to come to any harm.

It was as the furniture-scraping noises began that she sat up, listening for the next phase: the sound of her mother being slapped yet pleading with her husband to stop.  Sally leapt out of bed and ran down the stairs, not feeling the cold on her bare feet. As she reached the bottom of the stairs her father was shouting but there was no reply from her mother.  Oh God, has he killed her?

‘Dad, Dad! Let me in,’ she shouted.

Leaning her head against the door, she closed her eyes and repeated her private, nightly prayer, under her breath. Dear God, please take my Daddy away.

Chapter 1

April 2008:

‘Clive... Dad, it’s me, Lynne. I want to see you,’ the girl had said.  Rae was replaying this line over and over in her head as she drove to work, her mind not on the road, only on the shock she’d had with this morning’s phone message. She was unaware the girl existed, believing Clive, her partner of the last three years, was single and child-free, like her.

Rae Spencer pulled up in the car park at the Domestic Violence Unit, and sat, unable to move even if she’d wanted to. She placed her hands on the steering wheel, wondering what else she didn’t know about her lover.

Eve Brewer, Rae’s manager, was standing at her office window. She’d watched Rae drive into the parking slot and wondered why she wasn’t moving. As they were due at the local high school first thing, she combed her short, fair hair then grabbed her coat and bag, telling the staff: ‘I’ll be back around noon. Rae’s waiting for me outside.’ 

As Eve neared the car, she thought Rae looked unwell. Crouching, she tapped gently on the offside window.

‘What’s the matter?’ she asked, her well-made up face frowning.

‘Eve, you... you won’t believe... ’ she said, her voice trembling, her face matching the cream blouse she wore.

Eve stood up. ‘Hang on a minute, let me get in then you can tell me.’ Sat beside her now, Eve narrowed her eyes as she said, ‘Right, come on, tell me what’s happened.’

Taking deep breaths, Rae’s voice was almost a whisper as she spoke.

‘Clive has a child. A girl, a young woman called Lynne rang up this morning asking for him.’

Eyes wide open, Eve was shocked. ‘No! Are you sure this girl’s got her facts right?’

Rae was more composed now; she ran her hand through her straying loose blonde hair, and said with a sigh, ‘I don’t know, I mean... I was carrying my stuff downstairs when the phone rang. I couldn’t get to it so let it go to the machine, and I heard this girl... she was asking to see him.  She left her mobile number.’

‘So, what happened next?’ Eve was rapt, her eyes like slits.

‘I tried ringing him with her mobile number, but he wasn’t available, handy for him. So I texted him her details but I’ve not heard anything since.’

Sitting back in her seat, Eve looked stunned.  ‘Well, I’m lost for words. You’ve been together what, two, three years and he’s not mentioned her?’

‘Not once,’ she said, her voice filled with sadness; a faraway look in her eyes.

Eve’s voice was a whisper as she asked, ‘I take it he still doesn’t know about you?’

Eyes widening in alarm, Rae shook her head. ‘No!’  A thin smile touched her lips as she spoke again. ‘Maybe this is my punishment, eh?’

~ ~ ~

That evening, as Rae pulled into her drive, she wasn’t surprised to see Clive’s car already parked there.  She’d had a feeling of unease all day, wondering if he’d contacted Lynne, combined with a seething anger which had festered into the calm rage coursing through her now.

The tyres scrunched the gravel as she brought the car to a halt, Clive jumped out of his car, as though afraid she’d run in the house and lock herself in, not letting him explain. Rae looked up at him, her face hard to read, for a full minute.  Finally she spoke.  ‘So, I imagine you’re here to tell me about your daughter. The one I didn’t know you had, eh?’

Because her tone was calm, Clive smiled – a nervous smile, but one which had a hint of a sneer about it, making Rae’s eyes glisten with fury.

‘Oh, it’s amusing is it?  I’ve known you for three years and you didn’t think to tell me you had a child?  What else haven’t you told me? Are there anymore kids you’ve not mentioned?’

‘No, nothing, honestly, please let me tell you about her...it...’

‘Honestly?  I don’t think anything about our... relationship, is honest if you couldn’t tell me you were a father.’

Clive’s nostrils flared and his jaws tensed.  He lowered his voice before saying, ‘Look, can we talk about this inside rather than telling the world?’

Rae shrugged, turned and walked ahead of him, and he had to run to get inside the front door before she slammed it shut in his face.

Her body language told him not to approach her, and as he stood in the living-room doorway watching her throw her handbag and briefcase on to a chair, he took a deep breath, not knowing how to start.  She saved him the job, turning to him, looking at him like a disappointed mother might to her child.

‘So, explain,’ she said, folding her arms, but otherwise unmoving.

His voice, when it came, was low; cracking as if he was reaching into a pit of emotion so deep it would engulf him.

‘I’ve never talked about it, to anyone.  It was so long ago, and so painful, I felt... a failure, I suppose.  Cuckolded and my child taken from me.  It was the worse pain I’ve ever felt in my life, so I shut it away, refused to confront it.  I hoped that one day, if I was lucky, Lynne would come looking for me, but I couldn’t dwell on it.  I nearly cracked up, going through the divorce, and resolved never to discuss it unless that day came, and now it has. I realise not telling you about her was a mistake, but I beg you, please, stay with me on this, just while she and I get to know each other again, then I can start to deal with it, explain everything to you.  Please, Rae. I didn’t realise how deep I’d buried it, how emotional I’d be...’  He coughed, as if trying not to cry.

‘You didn’t realise a lot of things, did you?  What’ve you told her?’

‘About you, you mean?’

‘Yes, about me. Us.’

‘Not much; just answered her questions.  She asked about your job, that sort of stuff, and how long we’d known each other.  I suppose we were both a bit scared; didn’t know what to say, really.’

‘Will you meet up?’

‘We already have. This afternoon. In the tearoom.’

Shocked, she just said, ‘That was quick.’

‘She was brave enough to want to see me, and it has been a long time since I’ve seen her. I was scared I wouldn’t recognise her.’

‘So, she was already in town when she rang your house this morning?’

‘Yeah, she stayed in a bed-and-breakfast. She’s here for a couple of days.’  He began to move towards her, his eyes crinkling as he sheepishly asked, ‘Am I forgiven?’

With a still-sullen face, she turned away and put the kettle on, letting him know she still wasn’t a happy woman, which was highlighted when she took only one mug from the rack before turning to face him.

‘I’d rather you went home now, please.  I’ve work to do and I think we both need time to think.’

‘Rae, please...’ he began.

‘No, Clive!  Go home.  If you don’t want to talk about your previous life until Lynne’s gone away again, then I don’t want you here.’

They glared at each other until Clive took a breath and broke the silence. She could see perspiration shining on his cropped, grey hair.

‘Okay, I understand why you’re mad at me, but will you come to mine tomorrow night, for a meal, and meet her?’

Rae groaned, ‘Oh Clive, I’m not...’

Sounding agitated, he shouted, ‘Look, just for a meal, you don’t have to stay over.  Just help me out here, will you?’

Rae was incandescent. ‘My God, you’ve got a nerve!  Me help you out?  Who the hell d’you think you are?’  Shaking her head and laughing with contempt, she continued, ‘Talk about taking the piss.  I’m not good enough to be trusted to be told about your child but I’m good enough to be a chaperone, am I?’

He changed his tune, lowering his voice.  ‘Look, I’m sorry, I’m a dope. I’m just out of my depth here and... I’m scared.  I’m bloody scared of my own child... well; she’s not a child, is she?  She’s a young woman, and I’m frightened I’ll run out of things to say to her.  Please, say you’ll come.’

Feeling a mixture of emotions, none of them logical, she heard herself saying, ‘Okay, just for a couple of hours. I’ll have the meal then I’ll leave.  That’s the best you’ll get, now sod off, please.’

He braved a kiss on her head before smiling at her as he left.  Rae watched through the window as he walked to his car with a spring in his step that wasn’t there when he arrived.  Her gut was telling her to end this, but she wasn’t sure why.

~ ~ ~

The next evening, still smarting that Clive hadn’t confided in her, Rae went to his house.  As she walked up his path, she hesitated before ringing the doorbell, doubting she should be doing this.  Hearing voices inside the house, she took a deep breath and pressed the bell.

She stood at Clive’s front door, a reluctant guest awaiting admittance, clutching two bottles of wine, feeling stupid for agreeing to it.  Her stomach was doing cartwheels as she heard Clive’s voice carrying down the hallway ahead of him.  Then the door opened.

‘Here she is!  Come on in and meet my long-lost daughter,’ he said, kissing her and relieving her of the wine.  ‘Very nice,’ he murmured, giving the labels an approving once-over. 

As Rae entered the living-room, she saw a relaxed and well made-up, slim, blonde and glamorous young woman.  The vision took her breath away as, despite the slap, Lynne still looked like a younger replica of a woman from Rae’s past. Surely, she couldn’t be...

‘Hi Rae, it’s nice to meet you,’ Lynne stood in greeting; it was clear she wasn’t sure if she should embrace her father’s girlfriend, or shake her hand. 

Rae took the lead, doing neither just saying, ‘Hi,’ then sat down, not trusting her legs; not caring if she came over a tad rude.  Making an effort, she instigated a conversation, trying to make her eyes match her smile, praying this girl wasn’t who she thought she might be. This made it difficult to look at Clive, too.  Oh God, what a mess!

‘So, Lynne, what do you do with yourself, for a living, I mean?’

‘Nothing at the moment; I’ve not long finished college. I studied to be a beautician, so I’m job-hunting.  Dad’s told me about your job at the women’s refuge.  It sounds really interesting.’

‘It has its moments,’ Rae tried to be jolly.  ‘It can be emotionally draining at times, but worthwhile.  Well, I think so.’

Clive was standing back, not saying much, just watching their interaction.

Desperate to change the conversation, she turned to Clive. ‘I like the smells coming from the kitchen.  What’s for dinner?’ Rae lied; the smell was making her stomach turn.

Proud of himself, Clive smiled as he said, ‘Spaghetti Bolognese, and it’s all my own work before you ask.  I didn’t cop out, if you pardon the pun, and run into M&S.’

Lynne got to her feet and carrying her handbag, said, ‘I’ll just nip to the loo before we eat.’

As they listened to her rush up the stairs, then the bathroom door close, Clive crouched down to Rae’s level, his face grim.

He whispered, ‘She went to the bathroom not long after she arrived, and when she came down she had some white powder on her face.  D’you think she could be using drugs?’

Rae was staggered.  ‘How the hell do I know?  I’ve only just arrived. Why didn’t you ask her?  Or at least tell her she had something on her face?’

‘I don’t know... I guess I didn’t want anything to ruin the evening, not after all these years.  Oh I was so glad when you arrived.  Shh, she’s coming back down.’

Rae stood up as Lynne entered the room.  ‘I’d better go too, before we eat,’ she said, smiling at the young girl with the perfect make-up, and wondered how soon she could extricate herself from this nightmare.

~ ~ ~

The meal went well, and Lynne proved to be as talkative as her father, regaling them with tales of college and the models they’d had to practice on.  She didn’t mention her mother at all. Rae wondered why, but was glad of it. In fact, she was glad that Lynne didn’t pause for breath, as it stopped things being awkward.

‘So, come on, where did you two meet?’ Lynne asked, with a smile, though Rae wondered if it was a trick question.

Clive smiled as he answered. ‘We were introduced at a Multi Agency Risk Assessment Conference. There, that’s a gob-full don’t you think?’ he laughed.  ‘MARAC for short. God, it seems like years ago now.  Anyway, I took one look and was hooked,’ his voiced lowered with tenderness as he gazed at Rae, one hand touching her face, not understanding when she flinched. Thinking she was still mad at him, Clive didn’t react and began clearing the table. Rae excused herself to go outside onto the terrace for a cigarette, ignoring Clive’s look of shock, as he thought she’d given up.  She was surprised when Lynne followed her, closing the French doors behind her.

She smiled before she asked, ‘How long have you known my Dad?’

‘About three years.  Hasn’t he told you?’

‘Only bits.  It was a strange feeling, Dad and I meeting up as there was so much we wanted to say, needed to ask, but we were both too nervous.  Scared of frightening each other off, I suppose,’ she said, smiling.

‘Would you like a ciggie?’ Rae asked her.

‘Oh, no...thanks,’ she replied, looking longingly at the packet then turned her face to see her father smiling at her through the window.

Rae watched before saying, ‘I think he’d rather you were yourself and if you choose to smoke, that’s your business.  Anyhow, he already thinks you might be a coke-head,’ she smiled and watched for Lynne’s reaction, which was a gaping mouth.

‘What?  Why?’

Rae handed Lynne a small, white tub. ‘Because you didn’t do a good job of wiping your smokers toothpowder off your face before I arrived, that’s why.  The poor man thought you had drugs on your face.’

They both tried not to laugh as Clive appeared beside them, mentioning tiramisu for dessert.

‘Shortly, Dad, I’m just going to have a ciggie first, if you don’t mind.’

‘No...no, okay.  I’ll put the coffee on,’ he looked bemused, as he shuffled indoors.

Lynne took a long drag and exhaled before she said, ‘You know, Rae, I remember you.  From Birmingham I mean.’

‘Sorry?’ Rae asked, startled by this, her heart beginning to thump.  ‘How do you know me?’

‘I once saw you with my mother.  You were her case-worker, weren’t you?’

Rae looked away before replying. ‘I’m not sure what you mean, Lynne.’

‘Yes you do.  When you first arrived, I recognised you straight away, and you gave it away when you saw me, because I look like her, don’t I?’

‘What do you want me to say?  I can’t possibly discuss anything about my job, you must realise that.’

‘Sure.  But have you told my Dad what she accused him of?’

‘I haven’t told your Dad anything, because I can’t.  Anyway, until you turned up, I didn’t even equate the pair of you with him.  How could I?’

‘But do you think he’s capable of what she said he did?’

‘I’m sure he isn’t, and when you get to know him better, you can judge for yourself.’

‘But you don’t know, do you?’

Rae shook her head, feeling disloyal and... sick. 

How on earth could she spend anymore time in this house, knowing what Lynne’s mother had accused her ex-husband of doing, knowing that he and Clive were the same man?

Stubbing out her cigarette, Rae excused herself and returned to the house, leaving Lynne exploring the garden.  She had to talk to him, though God knows what she’d say.

Clive watched her come in. He smiled as he asked, ‘Are you still mad at me?’  He held out his arms, and when she didn’t respond his smile vanished.

‘Clive, I need to leave.’

‘Why? Has Lynne said something to...?’

‘No. Yes, but... Christ, this is difficult. Look, I can’t say anything until you’ve spoken to Lynne, and even then I can’t discuss it, so I must go.’  She began to gather her things as he looked aghast, his evening of reunion ruined.

‘Rae! This doesn’t make sense. What’s happened, tell me!’ he shouted, demanded, grabbing her arms.

‘No, Clive!  Stop shouting,’ she remonstrated, backing away from him, never having seen him like this before. But then, he’d not been confronted with his daughter, or his past, before, had he? Staring at his contorted face, Rae felt some empathy for his confusion, but she still had to leave.

Calm now, and thinking professionally instead of personally, she looked at him, her body shaking with fear - fear of what she remembered Lynne’s mother telling her.  She knew, as she took in his pale, puzzled face, that she would never feel the same about him. She knew that she could never let him touch her again. Their life together was over.

Chapter 2

Trudy was babysitting for her boyfriend Joe’s sister, Jasmine. As the three kids were in bed, she watched a bit of telly, then flicked through the myriad of magazines that Jasmine seemed to spend a fortune on: all house-y magazines that looked good displayed on the coffee table.

Bored at seeing the same old stuff reiterated in the style-icon’s bibles, she sighed, taking in her surroundings. All the furniture and fittings were expensive, and Trudy wondered how Jasmine and Billy had afforded such opulence, as, despite both of them working, there’d been a serious amount of cash flashed around this place.

As she sat on one of the two plump, leather sofas, she mentally added up in her head the price of them, the gorgeous floor-length lined curtains, the posh telly on its solid-wood table, the side tables dotted around the room as well as the large, heavy coffee table. All this stuff lying on top of the solid oak-wood floor covered with the obligatory square rug that complimented the mocha and cream colour scheme. The assumed figure astounded Trudy, and this was just one room!

Wondering if she and Joe would ever achieve such splendour, she took her mind back to when she’d first met him, and how charming he’d been, watching her sing at the local sports club, where she did covers of Alison Moyet songs. It was always good to have someone to fix on in the audience, and after a few weeks of flirting with eyes and smiles, Joe finally insisted they had a proper date. He’d taken her out to dinner at the Queen’s on Walney Island, then for a walk along the shoreline. It had been so romantic; such a perfect evening, with, she’d thought then, the perfect man. How quickly things change, she mused, her stomach sinking at the thought of how things were now.

Trudy had been living with Joe (and his mother, in his mother’s house) for nearly nine months, and to say it hadn’t always been easy was an understatement!

Joe had been so persuasive; getting her to give up her rented flat, telling her the money she saved "could be used