Don't Step on the Cracks

By christine lawrence

Shocked at the amount of homeless in Fareham, Karen takes a job at the local hostel where she meets support worker Gemma, an acquaintance from her past.
When a young female resident is attacked, the the amount of finger of suspicion falls on Falklands veteran Harry who was spotted running from the scene.


Or was it John, living rough in the woo

• Language: English
• Publisher: Christine Lawrence
• Release date: Mar 1, 2023
• ISBN: 9781838326159

Book preview

1

Chapter One

Josie

This old bakery was where she used to go to with her Mum when she was a kid. She remembered the smell of newly-baked bread and the taste of iced buns - her favourite. Just sitting there in the dark, sometimes she could still smell and taste the sweet sugar on the buns. Then she’d remember all that was long ago. The cold would creep into her bones and never seem to leave. It was deep in her heart and froze every good thought out of her brain.

The bakery didn’t smell of bread now, it smelt of piss - not hers, someone else’s. She wasn’t an animal - she didn’t piss in the street.

The hostel room was safe but this place was where she came when she needed excitement, to break away, to maybe earn some money that the do-gooders didn’t know about.

The window was cold against her back when she sat up - behind her the shop was empty. If you peered in through the grime you’d see piles of unwanted mail - turned yellow with age - it had been so long since the door was opened. She’d stopped wondering why it was OK to have so many empty shops in town, so many abandoned flats behind the shops when there were so many living in the cold and wet, or like her, in a room in a hostel.

A woman passed her and gave her a look of disgust. Josie glared back, sick of turning her face away. She wanted to shout at the woman’s back as she walked away but she’d always hated confrontation. ‘That’s what brought me to this place - confrontation. I should have put up with it all.’

Her Dad left when she was eight. She ought to have been glad - her Mum was. The shouting and the bruises faded pretty quickly but the fear stayed for a long time. She jumped every time the front door opened and jumped again when it slammed shut. There was no memory of her sitting on her Dad’s knee even though her Mum said she used to all the time. That must have been blocked off along with some of the other memories.

She was thinking about all this when the man came along. Good looking, dressed in jeans and a parka, carrying a Tesco bag. He smiled at her - she knew that smile always meant they wanted something - not looking at her with disgust but with lust. Pushing her hand through her hair, she smoothed down her mini skirt, licked her lips and leant against the glass looking back at him, hoping for some warmth for a brief moment, hoping for some money to help get out of her head.

‘You want some company?’ She smiled, hoping he would take her for a drink first, if only to stop her feel the disgust she felt in herself.

He said nothing, just pulled a key from his pocket, stepped closer before moving past her to the door, turning the key in the lock. She looked on as he pushed open the door, trying to keep the surprised look from her face as he stood aside and beckoned her in.

‘I thought we could go for a drink,’ she said.

‘You want a drink? I thought you were selling sex?’ His voice was harsh. Fear flickered in the pit of her belly.

‘Maybe it’s not a good idea,’ Josie said, not moving from the doorway.

‘Don’t be like that,’ he said. ‘I’ve got some wine. We can have a drink.’

‘Here? I meant in a pub.’

‘I can’t go in the pub with you,’ he said laughing. ‘I mean, I would, but I’m married and people around here know me.’

Looking at him, she realised she had seen him before, in the Red Lion. ‘OK, a drink here then,’ she agreed and watched as he took a bottle of wine from the bag.

She moved inside the shop, leaving the door open behind her just for safety’s sake. You never knew when you might need to run. But he went and slammed the door shut and turned to her.

‘Upstairs,’ he pushed against her back.

‘How can I trust you?’

‘You can’t really,’ he replied. ‘But if you want paying, you’ll do what I ask.’

‘I’m not going upstairs. Just let me have some of that wine and we can do the business down here. There’s no one about.’

‘Business?’ It was dark in there but even so she noticed the veins on his neck standing out as he came closer. His eyes were as black as his hair. There was a gleam of light coming from somewhere, a street light maybe, reflecting in his stare. ‘Is that all it is to you? Business? You’re just the same as all the rest, full of shit.’

His voice wasn’t loud at all - but that made it more frightening somehow. It all felt wrong. Perhaps it was always like this but usually she’d numbed herself first with whatever she could get her hands on. She backed away from him.

‘Where are you going?’ He reached out to grab her but she managed to get to the door and opened it. He tripped on the papers but instead of slowing him down, it seemed to make him even more able to fly at her. Still with the bottle in his hand, out of the corner of her eye she saw him swing at her head, felt the pain and then, mercifully, everything went black.

2

Chapter Two

Molly

Rob was good to her at first; they were happy in what she thought was a good relationship. He said he loved her perfect figure and her long auburn hair. She’d laughed at this, wondering what someone as good looking as him saw in her with her overlarge nose and crooked smile. He’d said she was perfect then. When Ellie was born her world was complete but things changed. Everyone said all men felt left out when the kids come along. Although she’d tried to include him in everything she was so tired, it got more and more difficult to keep him happy. Rob told her she was letting herself go and it was true, she struggled to get her weight back to normal, her old clothes still didn’t fit her even six months after Ellie’s birth. Every day for Molly was the same, caring for their daughter, keeping the house clean, shopping and then preparing a meal. There seemed little point on making an effort with make-up and when she did, Rob told her she looked like a tart. She knew it would never be the same again. Any love she had felt for him was dead and she had to get away.

Time passed and she lived from day to day, using secret moments to hide away clothes in a rucksack in the back of the garage. This was the only place in the house she felt was safe, that he would never bother to go in. He hated all that stuff he called junk but to her it was memories of when things were better. Better for her but not for him. She often wondered how she’d got away with keeping them - he didn’t like her having things from her past saying they should be building a life together not dwelling on stuff that wasn’t important any more. But it was important to her - her past was all she had that was purely her own.

There weren’t many secret moments. She’d stayed at home because he wanted her to be a proper housewife. He would look after her, he’d insisted. At first this seemed romantic and what she thought every woman dreamed of - not having to work, being able to be creative at home, visit her friends, maybe go to afternoon cinema or sit in the library, maybe even write the novel she’d always promised herself. She would find workshops to join and make new friends too.

It hadn’t turned out like that though. He started working from home, employed staff to run the estate agency business and spent his time researching, as he called it, at home instead, just going out to look at new properties when they came his way. Time passed until the property market failed. He wasn’t making as much money as he had been - not his fault of course - people just weren’t buying and selling properties these days. His mood swings were frightening at times. He decided that to make money he would do some work on the house, then they could sell it for a profit - not something Molly thought would actually happen. He started on the kitchen, knocked down the old fireplace to make the room bigger, then lost interest before the work was fully completed. A small crack had appeared on the ceiling but he just shrugged his shoulders and told Molly to stop nagging him.

It didn’t take much to persuade him that if Molly went back to work life would be much better and it didn’t take her long to find a job as a doctors’ receptionist.

For the first few weeks, little Ellie stayed at home with Rob. He struggled - said he couldn’t be expected to look after her and work at the same time and it was true, Ellie was a changed little girl after only a few days. She cried when Molly went to work and was naughty when Molly arrived home.

Asking around, one of her colleagues put her onto Nadia who agreed to look after Ellie. Rob didn’t even ask about the child-minder and Molly deliberately didn’t tell him where she lived. He seemed glad to have his space back and they soon settled into a kind of uneasy routine, Molly continuing to plan for her future, wondering how the hell she was going to have the nerve to get away.

Another year had passed and still things had not changed. Her rucksack was there, waiting for her to make the move. There had been times when things got to the point when she decided it was time to go but something had stopped her from taking that final big step. A part of her wanted to believe things would get better and they could be happy again. Talking to him about it didn’t help - just made it worse if anything.

She lived with a constant feeling of fear, of walking on eggshells, never knowing what mood he would be in. The day she finally plucked up the courage to leave would be the day that those feelings would be gone. She had to go soon and she had to go somewhere he would never think to look. This was the problem, where?

She had a notebook - kept it in her handbag. It was the only place where she could safely write her feelings, her hopes, and yes, her fears too. She would write stuff just to get it out then tear out the pages and burn them, afraid even if Rob didn’t get to read it, he’d somehow know what she’d written. He used to say he could read her mind, they were that close.

She was in the supermarket by the frozen food with a bag of peas in her hand, wondering what she needed. Reaching into her bag for the book, she remembered in horror she’d left it at home on the kitchen table. There were things in there that she didn’t want Rob to see. It was only a list, something she would often do to help clear her mind. It meant nothing, just words that popped into her head. Dropping the defrosting peas back into the freezer, she abandoned the trolley and left the shop. She had to get home.

As soon as the front door opened she knew. He was standing in the hall, looking at her.

‘So,’ he began. ‘A therapist then? You think you need to see a therapist?’

Molly looked back at him, saying nothing. She started to take off her coat.

‘Well?’

‘No, of course not. Why do you say that?’ She looked up at a cobweb just above his head. She hadn’t noticed it before and resisted the urge to reach up and sweep it away.

‘Or is it me you think needs one? You think I’m OCD? What are you planning?’

‘I’m not….’

‘Don’t give me that shit! I know what you’re thinking. You’ve always wanted to get rid of me and now I’ve got proof.’ He drew out of his pocket the notebook, a page folded back to show the list.

‘You’ve been looking through my private journal? Those are my notes for a story I want to write, nothing to do with you.’ She reached for the notebook. But he’d snatched it out of her reach.

‘You think I’d believe that bullshit?’ he spat. ‘You are more stupid than you look.’

Trying not to flinch as he raised his arm, Molly stood her ground then moved past him and ran up the stairs. Without thinking too much, she quickly gathered some things for Ellie and herself into a bag and made her way back down. He was still in the hallway.

‘I’m going to get Ellie,’ she said as she left the house.

Nadia opened the door even before she’d reached the step.

‘Where’s Ellie?’ she was still shaking.

‘What’s happened?’ Nadia demanded. Molly pushed past her into the hallway.

‘She’s playing out the back. Don’t worry, Michael’s out there with her. Come through.’ She led the way into the kitchen which overlooked the back garden. Looking out Molly could see the children playing together on the climbing frame. Michael, a strapping twelve year old, holding onto Ellie as she climbed.

‘I’m sorry, I was worried. I’ve had another run in with Rob. I can’t do it anymore. I need to get away from him.’

‘Sit down,’ Nadia was putting the kettle on. ‘We can work something out. You can stay here for a bit, if you need to, until you work out what to do.’

‘Are you sure?’ Molly looked at Nadia. ‘I know when we talked about it before you said you’d always help if you could, and Rob doesn’t know where you live but I bet it won’t take him long to find out.’

‘Well, we’ll face that if it happens. Hopefully he’ll give you a bit of space. Perhaps you could meet him somewhere to talk away from your house.’

‘I suppose, I just want to get my life back, not have to be on edge all the time.’

‘Then it’s settled. You can stay as long as you need.’

‘Thank you,’ Molly sighed.

3

Chapter Three

Karen

It was his feet that stood out. Not only were they oversized, bursting out of the sides of his worn, split, leather boots, but it was the smell that hit you.

It probably didn’t matter so much in the winter - he was out of doors most of the time anyway. The summer was a different story, and it was already nearly May so things could get more tricky. Karen imagined that he was aware of it, of course he was, but how was he to deal with the problem when there was no chance of him having anywhere to change his clothes, have a shower and spray his body with deodorant. Anyway, he didn’t actually seem to have a change of clothes and probably had no chance of affording new boots any time soon.

She had first noticed him around about Christmas time. Since retiring, with less money to spend she’d been wandering around the shopping centre aimlessly, wondering what to buy for Christmas presents for people who had everything and needed nothing. The man had been sitting beside the ticket machine in the car park, right where he was today. Just sitting there, saying nothing, not looking at her, no eye-contact at all. He wasn’t begging as such although the paper cup with the few coppers in it which was placed just beside him was an invitation of sorts, wasn’t it? It always made her feel uncomfortable seeing people like him, sitting there hoping for a few pence when she was paying nearly a fiver just to park her car.

Of course a few pence probably wasn’t what he’d been hoping for. She’d heard that people like him could earn over a hundred quid a day which was more than most hard working folk earned. She couldn’t really believe that but it made her feel uncomfortable and she always wanted to give people the benefit of the doubt, so she had slipped him a five pound note once. Going off and buying him a coffee didn’t seem right either - there was a pile of empty coffee cups just there, behind where he was sitting. At least with money he had free choice to spend it on what he wanted. It was cold back then and she hadn’t noticed the smell of his feet, just their size.

Now, four months later, he was still there most days and as the weather got warmer, so did his presence become more noticeable. And she hadn’t even asked his name or ever really spoken to him apart from a grunted good morning once or twice. It seemed a bit strange to ask him now.

From just around the corner, near the Pound shop, she could watch him. He wasn’t begging, was he? Not young, she thought, but what was his story? He was wearing an old combat jacket, like you used to be able to get in Charlotte Street in that Army surplus shop. Unshaven, his hair was grey under his woolly hat. She wondered whether he was uncomfortable that his boots weren’t better kept, thinking he may have been in the forces once.

Feeling uneasy, Karen walked away, vaguely wondering what she could do to help.

The rain ran down her neck as she walked towards the house. The lack of numbers on the doors made it difficult to find the right one. She walked past it twice but eventually, soaked to the skin, she rang the doorbell and waited to be shown in. It had been her conscience that drew her to the hostel on their open day. The guy in the car park was still there and she felt uncomfortable about not knowing what she could do to help. It wasn’t just him, of course. He was merely a symbol - there were homeless people everywhere she went, more in the bigger city centres but still enough in Fareham to make you think and wonder what the answer was. She’d gone online to read up about what services there were locally and here she was, outside the door, waiting to step into another world.

Friendly faces greeted her as she was shown into the kitchen and given a coffee by one of the residents. She was asked to wait, assuming she’d be shown round the building by one of them as soon as they were free. Her mind drifted back to the days when she’d worked in the drug and alcohol team, times when she had visited clients in hostels like this one. She wondered where they were now, some thirty years on. Not so much seemed to have changed since then, she thought to herself.

The nearby office door opened and she was brought back to the present as two women invited her to move into the lounge for a chat.

‘Hello, you must be Karen. I’m Terry and this is Marcia. Bring your coffee in,’

Karen smiled as she shook the proffered hands and followed them in. She noticed how soft and worn the sofa was as she sank into it, wondering if she would be able to get out of it again when the tour of the building started. The years had taken their toll on her knees and she often struggled with arthritis, and of course, she had put on a few pounds since her nursing days. Colouring your hair helped make you feel younger but the lines on her face were a bit of a give away that she was getting on a bit. Still, back to why she was here - to find out all she could about services for homeless and how it all worked.

Terry and Marcia were very friendly, asking her questions about herself, what she’d done in the past and it took Karen a few minutes to realise that they were interviewing her! She laughed to herself when they started asking her to give examples of times she’d challenged people’s discrimination, and how she’d dealt with bullying or other inappropriate behaviour. Coming here with no preparation for an interview and then finding herself just slipping into a way of being, she realised she was enjoying herself. Her thoughts raced. As soon as this was over, she would tell them - she only came here to be nosy.

Of course it didn’t work out like that. Marcia was smiling at her as she offered Karen the job as relief worker.

It was still raining when Karen left the house and walked back into the town centre. She had a warm feeling, not sure whether it was a good warm feeling or a scary one. She had a job. But I’m retired, she told herself, then argued that at least she would find out all about how homeless people are helped. That’s what she had wanted to know, wasn’t it? She’d only have to do the hours she wanted to do and it could be fun maybe. As she passed the ticket machine in the car park, the homeless guy had gone, his belongings, a pile of grey blankets and a torn rucksack, left there in the rain.

4

Chapter Four

John

The night was long. Not so dark like in your bedroom when you turn out the light - too much going on around the place. But cold. Little sleep was had, he had spent all his energy trying to stay awake and seemed to have forgotten how to sleep. Too scared to relax but oh, so tired. His feet were cold and he never could sleep with cold feet. He remembered the time when he could sleep anywhere at anytime of day or night. But that was before when things were safe. Should he change his routine - sleep during the day and walk about at night? Only, walking about drew attention to you. No, it was best all round if you found a corner somewhere. Somewhere to hide and to wait for sleep to come.

Too much time to think, that was the trouble. Too many thoughts about the past and the future, if there was one. Try to stay in the now - that’s what he’d been told to do. Nothing will seem so bad if you stay in the now. Whoever had invented that idea just hadn’t lived this life. If they had, they’d know how stupid it was. Who would ever want to stay in this now, this cold, this hunger, this pain and loneliness he was wearing like a torn sleeping bag?

He felt the sun creeping warm onto his feet, shuffled his long body out of the shadow and into the morning light. The warmth melted into him, relaxing his muscles as the thoughts and night demons seemed to float away out of his reach. He knew that they were there, just waiting to swirl back to torture him as soon as the night slipped in again. But now it was another day and maybe something good would happen.

The shopping centre was busy. He’d been sitting on the bench outside the museum, always a good place to sit. Sometimes people would come and talk to him which was not always welcome. He knew he looked a mess, his dark hair hadn’t been combed in ages and he was dirty but he didn’t care. Just wanted to be left alone. People liked to give him coffees and sandwiches from Greggs which was just across on the other side of the precinct. He wasn’t begging, didn’t want money - money was dirty. He only accepted food if it was wrapped well in cellophane and drinks in sealed cups. You couldn’t be too careful after all, could you?

When the man came over to speak to him, he didn’t want to talk so he kept quiet, said nothing.

‘You OK, mate?’ The man had sat down on the bench next to him so it was hard to ignore him, pretend he hadn’t heard. ‘Mate?’ the man repeated.

John turned slightly and glanced at him.

‘You OK?’

‘Who wants to know?’

‘I’m Wes. I’ve seen you here before and just thought maybe I could help you.’

‘Help me what?’ John didn’t like the sound of that. He didn’t like the look of the man with his long hair, flip-flops and suntanned skin.

Nothing really, I just…’ he sighed. ‘I just hate to see you guys on the street. Do you have nowhere to go?’

‘Yes I do!’ John snapped back. ‘Go away and leave me alone. I don’t need you poking your nose in.’

‘Sorry, sorry mate. I just wanted to help. There are places that can help you.’

‘You know nothing about me. None of