Chapter Twenty Four

 

Thursday 5th June – 2.30pm – Rhiannon’s Letter

 

I’m hoping that I haven’t upset Lydia. The lunch should have been wonderful, just the two of us in a half-empty little Italian place that had been recommended to us, but the shadow of Rhiannon’s letter meant that I was even more distracted than usual and I think it was with a sense of relief that she kissed me goodbye and returned to work.

I turned the envelope over in my hands considering my options, burn it, give it to Julius to read for me? But I already knew it was just a question of time. I opened the envelope.

 

Dear Poet

 

By the time that you read this I will be gone, back to Edinburgh. I know that I will have handed this letter to you personally, I would not be cruel enough to risk your wife seeing it, despite what you may think of me, so we will have spoken, however briefly. So in what frame of mind you will be as you read this is will probably always remain a mystery to me. Still, these are the facts about me, Grinder and Chloe, I’m sure you will agree as odd a threesome as you could wish to find. Three people thrown together by circumstance and chance and all changed irrevocably by the experience, as you will see.

I wrote this letter a long time ago as an ‘insurance policy’ in case Grinder decided that I know too much about him although this is a re-write to personalise it to you. I don’t think he is (was) a killer, but I could not chance it. Happily I don’t need to worry about that anymore. So, my gentle Poet, this is my story, I doubt if you will enjoy it but it may make you think of me more kindly or at least explain why things worked out as they did.

 

My name is Rhiannon Ballantine or at least that’s the name that I was given as I never knew either of my parents. My early years are a blur of care homes and foster parents so I won’t bother with them. When I was thirteen I was moved into a tenement in Glasgow with a family called Duffy, I think they were from Ireland originally. They had a teenage son who moved out soon after I arrived so I was effectively an only child to them. They were kindly enough, but never loving; I always had cards and presents on birthdays and at Christmas for the couple of years that I was there, but the whole arrangement was rather functional.

The flat opposite was occupied by James Hannay and his sister Chloe. I became aware of them about a month after moving in with the Duffy’s when, with no explanation, they took me over to the Hannay’s flat one evening about six o’clock and just left me there, announcing that they would be back later? This was a pattern that would repeat itself often over the next eighteen months or so.

I was used to meeting new people so it did not faze me much, I actually quite liked them at first, James (never Jimmy) or Grinder as he was better known, was quite funny and despite having some obvious problems Chloe was more intelligent than people thought and we got on well. I later found out that she had been arrested twice for violent outbursts and even sectioned when she was younger. Eventually the system rejected her though, happy that her brother was willing to look after her, one less drain on the taxpayer I suppose. Anyway mostly we would just watch television and Chloe would knit while Grinder gave us his unqualified opinion on the rubbish we were watching. Sometimes he would go out and leave me with Chloe but not often.

My new parents would usually roll back sometime after closing time, sometimes forgetting to call for me so I’d just spend the night on the Hannay’s sofa. How they became foster parents is beyond me as they were both as near alcoholics as makes no difference?

Anyway, I have no idea what they did for a job or to make money, not the sort of thing a thirteen year old is interested in, but Grinder and Chloe would both go out at about nine most mornings and return after four during the week so I decided that I would use their flat to get away from the Duffy’s, take some friends in during the school holidays, pretend that it was my own pad, my own space, not just a single bedroom which is all I can ever remember having up to then. One evening when they were looking after me, I found a spare door key in a kitchen cupboard when I was looking for biscuits so I took it. For the first two weeks I was frantic with worry that they’d notice it was gone, but they never said anything, probably forgot that it was even there?

It was one day in July at the start of the long summer holiday that it happened. I’d gone into the Hannay’s flat at about ten thirty in the morning, Mr. Duffy was at work and Mrs. Duffy had gone out to play Bingo, the other passion in her life apart from the drink. I’d seen the Hannay’s go out and had arranged for a girl friend to come round later and hang out in ‘my pad’. I was just sitting on the sofa waiting; luckily I had not turned the TV on, when I heard the door open. I rushed out and hid in the spare bedroom praying that I would not get caught. I heard Grinder’s voice and another, a younger voice, a boy’s voice. I heard them talking for a few minutes then they went into Grinder’s bedroom. The spare room was next door, sharing a thin wall and I heard everything. I won’t describe what I heard as the thought still makes me feel sick and it seemed to go on for ever and, through it all, that terrible grinding noise he made when he was wound up or excited. I was praying that my friend would not arrive, no mobile phones then to warn her, not that I could have risked a call or even a text if there was. They finished and I heard the boy go to the bathroom, then the front door opened and I presume he left; but I did not hear Grinder go with him and I was holding my breath sure that he’d find me. But a few minutes later I heard him leaving and made my own exit a few minutes later. I met my friend arriving in the hallway as I left so it was a lucky escape.

The second incident was two months later, I’d been left with the Hannay’s as usual (I later found out that the Duffy’s were paying them) and I’d fallen asleep on the sofa. It was about two in the morning when I woke, needing the toilet. As I walked into the hallway I heard a moaning from Chloe’s bedroom and noticed the door was partly open. As I peered in I could make out Chloe’s voice repeating ‘no, no, no’ over again, but she was unable to move with Grinder’s powerful body on top of her. I wanted to help her but what could a thirteen year old do? Besides I was scared, what if I’m next? I stayed awake all night on the sofa praying that he wouldn’t come near me. I was so confused, first a boy and then his own sister? I came to the conclusion he had his own rules and did not answer to anyone; I knew about his reputation as a savage street fighter but this was something completely new to me.

I’d like to say that was the end of it, but no. I’m not going to describe the circumstances, I can’t, my hand won’t let me, suffice it to say that I became one of James Hannay’s many victims at the tender age of fourteen. I later found out that the Duffy’s knew about Grinder, knew what he was like, but their needs were greater than mere concern for an orphan so they ‘chanced it’. And I lost.

I told them what had happened but they did nothing, afraid of him no doubt. Then I made the mistake of telling Grinder all that I had seen him do and he tore out a clump of my hair and said he’d kill me if I told anyone.

Soon after I ran away, was brought back, then ran away again before eventually going back into care in Edinburgh.

It was years later when I came to University here to make up for all my lost years of education that I saw them both again. A friend in Glasgow told me that there had been a scandal involving an underage boy that even Grinder could not ignore or fight his way through, so they moved down here. I know it sounds strange but the first six months I spent visiting their flat in Glasgow represented one of the only stable times in my life and despite what had happened I was strangely drawn to them until it became obvious that nothing had changed; far from mellowing with age he was even worse, even tried it on with me again, wanted a threesome with a young lad he was seeing, made me sick to my stomach. I’m not sure if he was still hitting on Chloe, she seemed worse than ever mentally, even mentioning how she sometimes watched him with the boys, just for fun. Occasionally she’d flare up against him, threatening all sorts of revenge but it would subside just as quickly, mutual dependency I suppose? That’s when I decided to write it all down. I told Chloe what I’d done and she must have told him because he threatened me again like he had all those years ago. But by then I didn’t care anymore, he just seemed like a sad loser and I just wanted to hurt him in any way that I could and this seemed like the best chance to get some revenge. I still don’t quite know how I was going to use this letter or who I was going to show it to, but its very existence seemed to upset him so that was a result as far as I was concerned.

Anyway, that’s about it Mr.Poet, how do you feel about me now? For what it’s worth I think we would have been good together, but I’ll probably never know. Will I????

 

Yours with Love

 

Rhiannon Ballantine