Page 14

Facing biology

It didn’t feel like a reunion. They were strangers; strangers desperate to reunite with me, whoever me was.

“Can we just stay here another minute, please?”

I asked Ben as he pulled on the hand break.

“Of course.”

We’d pulled into the car park at the police station, so they knew we were here. I flipped down the visor and stared at myself, running my finger through the black smudge under my eye. I’d tied half my hair up; I tucked some fly-aways behind my ear, but quickly pulled them back, changing my mind.

Ben reached for my hand, lowering it into his lap. “Stop it, you look perfect.”

“I already cried off half my mascara, so I know you’re lying.”

He scowled at me. “I’m not rising to that.”

“I should’ve worn my shorts. Maybe a dress is too, I don’t know, fancy?”

I chewed on my fake nail – they were still unicorn themed, as chosen by Sophie.

He looked at me over the top of his glasses; I hated it when he did that. “Too fancy?”

“Does it look like I’m trying too hard?”

I pulled at the pink material of the tea dress, smoothing the little cherry blossoms. “Too pink?”

He squinted his eyes. “You want me to tell you if your dress is too pink?”

I sighed. “Urgh, I knew I should’ve come with Lucy.”

He took both my hands. “Listen, I know you’re stressed out, but they’ve been looking for you for nineteen years – you’re their child. I can guarantee everything else is irrelevant. You look beautiful; the dress is just the right amount of pink, it makes your eyes look browner and your hair look like honey.”

His fingers wrapped around my clammy hands. “This is the hard bit. After this, it’s going to get easier. You can tell the police the whole truth about those officers, you can get to know the family you deserve. You did it, Elle. You got this far. Now you’ve just got to take the last few steps.”

Ben opened the car door, walking briskly around the front to open mine, reaching down for my hand. “Come on.”

My heart felt light; my stomach heavy. Everything felt wrong, like stepping out onto a battlefield. Every part of me wanted to stay in the car.

“I’ve got you,”

Ben added, pulling my hand gently towards his, ushering me to stand.

I took it, hardly moving as he pulled me to my feet and pushed the door shut behind me. I leant back against the silver metal whilst he went to get my crutch, handing it to me carefully.

“Thank you,”

I whispered, barely finding my voice. “For everything.”

He faltered, hesitating. “Are you breaking off our engagement?”

I shook my head, an unexpected smile blossoming across my face. “No, you?”

I asked, pushing forwards to walk.

He shook his head as he held open the station doors. “Nope. I’m looking forward to Friday.”

Friday, I repeated mentally as he spoke to the woman at the desk.

There would be days after this.

The receptionist stared right at me as two non-uniformed officers appeared, one being DS Ernest. They ushered us up some stairs and into a side room. I paused before the door, but they assured me Susan and Derek weren’t scheduled to arrive for another twenty minutes.

The police station was grey and eerie. The small room had a desk, mismatched floor tiles, and two blue plastic sofas inside. Linda, the psychologist who had been assigned to the case, was waiting for us. She was eclectically dressed, wearing a long red skirt made of several prints and a beaded glasses necklace. She told me she’d travelled to work on the case, and was very experienced. That just added to the intimidation – even the authorities knew this was intense.

“Mr Carlson, we have a room next door ready, would you like a coffee?”

Linda smiled at me warmly. I gripped Ben’s hand.

“You’ll be alright,”

he assured me, stroking his thumb over my knuckles.

I turned to look at him, and for a brief second, it was just the two of us… for a second, I could breathe.

“Do you want me to stay in here with you?”

“Yes, but I know I need to do this on my own.”

“Alright.”

He let go of my hand, affectionately rubbing my shoulder. “I’ll see you after.”

Sitting with Linda, I couldn’t even hear the words she was saying; I stared so intently at the door that my eyes watered. When it finally opened, I looked straight at the empty notice board, averting my gaze. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw DS Ernest holding it open as the couple entered. I’d already eyed up a wastepaper bin in case I was sick, desperately hoping that wasn’t the first impression I was about to give. I dug my nails into my knees, keeping my eyes low as the couple were guided to sit on the opposite sofa. It was Susan’s piercing cry that made my eyes dart up before I could stop myself. She was hunched over as Derek held her, folding inwards with grief.

The noise rattled the walls.

“I’m sorry,”

I said quietly.

I hadn’t planned on saying it, or anything, really. I didn’t know what I was apologising for: not running over and greeting them like in the movies? Forgetting them? Or maybe for looking at them like they were complete strangers. They looked old; fragile and worn out. Susan had a bob of grey hair and wore a lilac blouse over flared jeans; Derek a v-neck that bunched around his rounded shoulders, and a similarly peppered head of thinning hair. They were harmless, in the way you can instantly tell some people are. They were the sweet, good people about to meet their ruined daughter.

Linda cleared her throat and passed Derek a box of tissues from the desk.

“Well, like I said to you both, we’re going to take this slowly. There are no expectations here. Susan and Derek, this is Elle. Elle, Susan and Derek White. This is a unique situation in how fortunate it is that we can all be sat in this room together. So, let’s try and keep as calm as we can. If anyone needs to take a break, you can do so at any point, okay?”

She looked at me.

I nodded.

Derek patted Susan on the back as she kept sobbing.

It hurt my chest; made my bones ache, but I was fixed to the seat. It felt horrific to see someone so devastated and be powerless, or worse, to be the reason.

Derek spoke next, the sound of his voice startling me. “How are you, Elle?”

he asked, so, so carefully.

I nodded first, as if that would be answer enough, before forcing out some words. “I’m alright.”

Susan stared up at me, tears running down her cheeks. Derek smiled, a gentle, reassuring smile.

“I’m nervous,”

I added, in the absence of anything else.

“Us too, dear,”

Derek replied. “But we’re really, really thankful you met with us today.”

The pain in his voice stung. I nodded again.

“After all this time,”

Susan cried. “We looked and looked, and you found us!” Derek thrust another tissue into her hand, but she didn’t seem to care. “How, why?”

I coughed to clear the lump in my throat, forcing my hands to relax before my nails broke the skin. “I found the photograph… I didn’t think it was me, exactly, but I found the website and felt like you should know. I’ve tried to tell the police as much as I can.”

Linda nodded at me. “You’ve done fantastically, Elle. Everyone thinks so.”

“What did they do, to your eye, your leg?”

Susan asked directly. Her voice was sweet and her posture stooped, but her eyes were wild.

I looked at Linda, a cry for help, and she obliged.

“That’s not going to be the easiest thing for Elle to speak about right now, Susan, but I spoke to her before you got here and can assure you, she’s going to be absolutely fine.”

“They hurt you,”

Susan sobbed, going to stand.

I hated myself for it, but I flinched, pushing back in my seat. Derek took her hand and encouraged her to sit back down. I hadn’t meant to recoil; the image of the pain in her eyes became seared into my memory – a new, deep scar.

“Was that what they did?”

she cried, desperately looking at Derek, then back at me, her pupils round and dark. “Did they hurt you?”

Linda interjected. “Susan, we talked about this. This is a lot for us all to process; we need to take our time. Elle will share details with you when she’s ready, and although I can’t imagine how frustrating that is, we need to be patient.”

“Susan, love,”

Derek tried.

“I’m sorry.”

Susan sobbed frantically. “I’m sorry.” She pulled on his arm. “She’s just sat there, Derek, after nineteen years, she’s sat there. What, after another ten minutes I have to wait again? I can’t do it. I can’t.”

“We have to, dear,”

he coaxed. He looked at me, adjusting the thick neckline of his jumper whilst clutching onto Susan. “Sorry, Elle. We’re trying our best. Is there anything you need? Anything we can get you? They said you’re staying with your fiancé.”

Oh god. “I’m staying with Ben, he’s a… new friend. It’s a long story, but it’s not an official engagement.”

Linda adjusted in her seat, smoothing her vibrant skirt.

“But you were attacked, that’s where you were attacked on Monday,”

Susan stuttered. “It’s not safe.”

“Susan, dear,”

Derek tried again as she shifted.

She pushed his hand away this time. “No, if one more person says to me it’s been nineteen years, what is a few more days, I’m going to lose it. I lost all those days and hours, god, all those minutes.”

Fresh tears streamed as her voice faltered. “I can’t lose any more. I can’t.” She looked up at me desperately through red eyes. “Do you even remember? Maeve, sweetheart?”

I looked at Linda again as Derek dropped his head.

“Elle? Maeve, darling?”

Susan shouted. “Please!”

My heart felt like it was about to explode, my vision darkening at the edges as I felt my control start to slip. I wanted to answer her, but I couldn’t. Everything seized up at the thought of giving this poor woman the truth – no I’ve never seen you before. I couldn’t do it.

Swiftly, Linda ushered me from the room before I’d even registered that I was moving. Susan fought against Derek as my ears rang and I was pulled towards the door. Linda exchanged words with an officer, who held it open.

The next room was similar to the previous, with a desk and two small chairs. Linda pulled one out and handed me a bottle of water. It crinkled as I gripped it, placing it down on the plastic desk. Linda organised herself and her notebooks before taking a deep breath.

“Well, that went exactly as I feared it would. How are you doing?”

she asked, not looking up from her notes as she scribbled.

I took the cap off the bottle and willed the cool water to take the edge off the panic that was coursing furiously through my veins – it didn’t, it simply sloshed in my stomach.

Linda glanced up. “I’ll speak to Susan again; as you can imagine, this is a fraught situation for all involved.”

I nodded.

“Are you able to come back tomorrow and we can try again? I suggest we keep it like this for a few sessions, until things calm down. Step by step, like we talked about.”

“Tomorrow?”

I repeated. “I, erm, don’t have a car or anything.”

Linda gathered her papers, stacking them. “I wanted to talk to you about that.”

She paused. “The living arrangement? I think it would be best if I picked you up from now on. Keep things simple.”

“Right,”

I said, chaos giving way to unease.

“Mr Carlson seems well-meaning, as does his sister, but I don’t think your current living arrangement is ideal. I wonder if it would be better to set you up on your own somewhere short-term. We have officers you can stay with.”

“No,”

I replied without thinking. “I mean, no, thank you.” Acid built in my throat as my mind helpfully flashed up the last time someone tried to convince me to go to an officer’s house.

Linda leant back in her chair. “I understand your hesitation. There’s been a lot of change, but this is a high-profile case. The press alone are going to be hard to handle, and after Monday, we know Mr Carlson’s apartment isn’t secure.”

She looked at me. “I’m here to help you. That’s my role, to assist you. I know it’ll take some time to build trust, but that’s my focus. Not the investigation, not even Susan and Derek. Just think on it for me. I was a counsellor for many years before my PhD; trauma bonds are very real. When you meet someone in such extreme circumstances, it’s hard to get a clear view on it. On top of that, you’ve escaped from what, by most parameters, can be classified as a cult, meaning there will be an adjustment period. You’ve come from a harsh, violent environment, meaning any solace can seem tempting. You need to take care of yourself, think about decisions as openly as possible.” Her words were said kindly, yet they felt hostile.

“Ben and Lucy have been so kind,”

I muttered. It felt like gripping the rug as it was being pulled out from under me.

“Of course, and they could well turn out to be long-term friends. I hope they do.”

“The police officers… I told DS Ernest about Barnes and Dores.”

Linda nodded slowly. “There’s an investigation under way. You don’t need to worry about them, you are safe here with this team now. It may not feel like it, but this is good, all of these things are positive. When you come in tomorrow the team would like to install an app on your phone. It will allow you to be tracked in an emergency and we will set-up scheduled check-ins. It’s a standard tool used by the police and I would recommend you take them up on it, at least until we have arrests and presumably remands. If you don’t check in, or you’re in trouble you activate it, an alert will go off, making the team aware that something could be amiss.”

I swallowed my scoff; nothing about that had felt good and I struggled to see how an app would help. Regardless, I agreed to Linda’s demands. Ben could at least get back to work if Linda drove me to and from sessions; I wouldn’t have to keep putting him out.

I wasn’t expecting the flashes and shouts as an officer led me to the front door. When they told me they’d asked Ben to bring the car round, I thought it was because I was so tired, not because there was a swarm of reporters. The silver Audi was a few steps away as an officer looped an arm around my shoulder and led me to the passenger side.

“Maeve, where have you been all these years?”

“What happened to your leg?”

“How do you know Ben Carlson?”

It was a chorus of chaos and I couldn’t even fall into the seat quickly because of my cast. The officer held the door open whilst Linda rushed over, taking my crutch and sliding it onto the back seat. As soon as he could, and before we even spoke, Ben pulled us away from the storm.

“Are you okay? What happened?”

he asked quickly, not taking his eyes from the road, his grip overly firm on the steering wheel. “Fucking hell,” he cursed. “Elle?” He looked at me. “Are you okay? Shall I pull over?”

My eyes followed the white road-lines disappearing under the car. “Can we just go back to the apartment?”

I was cradling a cup of tea on Ben’s sofa, replaying all the conversations from the day in my head. We’d had to drive through another group of reporters just to get into the garage.

I’d poured petrol on Ben’s life.

“I’m so sorry. Linda said she can find me somewhere else to stay. How do they even know your name?”

Ben sat next to me, putting his coffee down on a coaster, sighing and massaging his forehead. “The press has followed Maeve for years.”

“So, what do we do?”

“Wait, Linda wants you to go where?”

I stared down at my tea. “To live with an officer, or in a place on my own, while I find my feet.”

“Surely with what you told them they can’t expect you to stay with police? Is that what you want?”

I knew exactly what I wanted, unlike before. Ironically, it was with that exact thought that I realised what Linda was trying to explain; I realised how deep I’d dived.

“The officers are under investigation.”

I dragged my fingers through my hair, tugging at my scalp. “I want to be with you, Ben, but maybe that isn’t such a good idea. Maybe it’s time I let you have your life back. Look how crazy it was outside, on day one.”

Ben looked at me, his eyes warm. “You’re not usually this direct.”

I rubbed the tips of my nails together. “Linda said that… lots of people in my position cling to people.”

I couldn’t look at him as I said the words, desperately needing him to dispel the dirty truth now rooted inside of me.

“Are you serious? She thinks I’ve Stockholm syndromed you?”

“What?”

“She thinks I’ve pulled a Beauty and the Beast on you, as if you’re Belle falling in love with her captor.”

“No. She thinks I’m likely to fall in love with the first person who doesn’t, you know… Bear in mind I did have to explain that we weren’t technically engaged.”

“Oh, right.”

I bit my lip, waiting for his response.

For a second, the silence was heavy, the weight of what had changed making the last couple of weeks seem like a sanctuary that had burnt to the ground.

“Come here,”

he said simply, leaning over and wrapping an arm around my shoulder.

I tucked my legs up and slid closer to him, explaining everything that had happened with Susan and Derek. My tea had gone cold by the time I’d finished; no part of me wanted to move.

“They were strangers. She was hurting… and everything I did or said just made it worse.”

“Give her time. It’s just the shock.”

“But I didn’t even comfort her, Ben. I wanted to but I couldn’t.”

“It sounds to me like this Linda was being too abrasive. I think I’d have reacted like Susan did; if that was my kid, you wouldn’t have got me sitting on the other sofa talking things through calmly.”

“She’s just trying to help,”

I defended.

“Maybe, but your situation isn’t standard; don’t assume that experts always know best.”

I tilted my head to look up at him, and as he looked down, the moment suddenly felt very intimate.

I should have looked away, but I didn’t.

“Okay.”

Ben looked down at my lips, blinking twice and moving slightly back. “You can leave the castle any time, of course, but you have to come back on Friday.”

“You still want to go out?”

“Of course.”

The next day, Ben went into the office and Linda took me to a different station to avoid the grappling media. Susan was a bit calmer, but it was still a fraught ordeal as I tried to answer their difficult questions about my life as carefully as possible. Afterwards, I had a meeting with the investigating team, where they installed the app on my phone.

The two experiences were entirely contradictory. My time with Linda was slow and steady, like she was handling my trauma with gloves and tongs. Though, she did make a confronting point about bodily autonomy, attempting to start an extremely uncomfortable conversation about sexual abuse survivors and future intimacy. Not something I was ready to think about on any level, let alone discuss. The way she talked about victims was so black and white, like I hadn’t had other relationships. Sex was the least of my worries and my relationship with Ben was a complicated luxury I had no desire to label or analyse – least of all because I probably wouldn’t like my own conclusions.

By contrast, the police interviews were harsh and rapid-fire. Each question exposing a wound to unpick in unscrupulous detail. It was like they wanted to me relive each painful memory in the most traumatic way possible. Every time we discussed a new subject – be it the book fiddling or some violent crime – it made everything feel worse, more real. Surviving had required moving on constantly, but this new life I was living involved looking back and realising just how long ago I should have run for my goddamn life.

Needless to say, I went to bed with a headache that day.