Astrid was used to people screaming. Like listening to your favourite Bowie song or a snippet of religious chanting, it existed at the back of her head, regardless of where she was. The rhythm would twist and turn, the instrumental howls occasionally dimming for the vocals or tortured words begging for release. She remembered one particular shriek resembling the guitar part in Ziggy Stardust. It was a soothing sound which allowed her to focus as eyes widened and blood dripped onto the floor.
But this was different screaming, more disturbing than gasps of fear. This was the cry of kids enjoying themselves, a concept so alien to Astrid, her hand trembled as the mass approached. The thunder of feet hurried past her, childish voices shouting for joy as they headed for the playground, leaving the mothers, sisters, guardians, and nannies in their wake. Astrid kept the phone close to her chest, switching her scrutiny from the green-eyed redheaded vacuous-looking girl on the screen to the crowd of adults trooping after the children. Her fingers gripped onto the neon, nails biting into the plastic. All the lesser lights of her past paled into insignificance compared to what she was about to do. Once she found her target.
She took a swig from the cup of coffee she’d bought on the way into the park. It was putrid and tasted like snake blood and bile, a toxic medicine she’d once sampled in the hidden streets of central Jakarta. The back of her throat shrivelled, and her eyes shrank. Astrid spat the drink onto the floor and followed it with the cup. Her long black hair swung behind her like a mane as a faint, transient, wistful smile lightened her brooding face.
A hint of mint and sweetness hung in the air, and she thought of sipping mojitos on a beach. She gazed at the suffragette statues as she waited, staring at the long body-consuming outfits they wore and comparing them to her red leather jacket, painted-on jeans and white blouse. She’d never understood why people squeezed into clothes which were far too small for them. For Astrid, her attire wasn’t just for relaxation; it sent out an invisible signal to the surrounding multitude: usually FUCK OFF, but today she was in a more approachable mood.
Astrid stared into the crowd, squinting to find what she wanted. She’d always found it humorous, making her eyes smaller to see something when she should have been expanding them. It was one of the few peculiarities of her childhood she’d kept; that and the escape maps stored inside her mind.
It didn’t take long before she spotted the woman whose image she’d studied on the phone: Colleen Moore, Dublin born and now working in London as a nanny. A cigarette hung from Moore’s mouth, failing to hide her pained expression. Astrid had scoured Colleen’s social media posts and hacked the government website which stockpiled data on everyone. The nanny was squeaky clean, and that worried her. Everybody had skeletons in their closet, but not this girl. Perhaps Astrid had enough to go around.
The stress lines etched on Colleen’s face made her look older than her eighteen years. Astrid tried to remember what she had been like as a teenager, vague recollections of hanging around with the wrong crowd. Her mother scolding her for getting up to things she shouldn’t. But she enjoyed getting up to something she shouldn’t. Soon she’d be getting up to all kinds of things she shouldn’t; as long as she didn’t mess up now.
There was no sign of the target. Astrid shoved the phone back into her pocket, an eternity of resolutions, doubts and indecisions forcing her on. Was it the wrong place or time? Had she messed up again? The last time that happened, people suffered.
She peered beyond the group of adults marching towards her until the target appeared, dragged behind the nanny in Colleen Moore’s cigarette-free hand. Olivia, a small blonde-haired girl, five years old, struggled to break away from the nanny. All of Astrid’s buried hopes rose from their sepulchres at the sight of the child. Alien emotions massed inside Astrid’s guts, resembling ice cream in a microwave. A week ago, she’d strangled a serial killer in Glasgow, yet now her fingers trembled at the sight of this kid.
As they strode past, she wanted to stretch out to grab hold of Colleen and tell her to be gentler with the girl. The other hand would stroke the long hair of the niece she hadn’t seen before today. Olivia ran to the swings, smiling at Astrid as she did, and it was the greatest feeling in Astrid’s life. It made her forget her parents’ hatred of her; forget the times she’d left home until the last one stuck; forget three years on the street; forget the boyfriend who’d turned her into a computer hacker; forget the girlfriend who’d broken her heart and her arm. And forget how much her sister hated her.
Have I the heart to take the kid from this nanny, to keep her from Courtney, to keep the girl from him?
She captured Olivia’s smile in her mind and returned to it over the next hour, watching the kid play with a casual abandonment which only the innocent possessed. The adults supervising the children were a bundle of stress balls, rolling through the playground to keep their kids from hurting themselves. They bellowed out instructions to calm down, but it would have been easier to ask fire to stop burning than to get the kids to obey. Stars illuminated their eyes, every muscle striving to move, to run, to jump, mouths endlessly chattering, giggling, screaming. It was a childhood Astrid had never had.
She was Olivia’s age when she got her first black eye. Her mother told the doctor her daughter had fallen down the stairs, but Astrid had never fallen in her life. She’d been knocked down many times, but had always risen with renewed strength and determination. And her greatest resolution was to forget, but never forgive what her family did to her. But even time couldn’t wash some memories away.
Inky clouds erupted across the sky. Most of the adults packed up their offspring and rushed off before the heavens ripped apart. As the first drops of rain fell, only two children and their guardians remained. Olivia was one of them, climbing the slide, and then slipping down it, oblivious to the weather. It didn’t appear to bother her or Colleen, who Astrid assumed was in no rush to get back to Olivia’s parents. Astrid couldn’t blame her: she still bore the scars from the last meeting with Courtney.
You’re my older sister. You should have protected me.
It was the last time they were together, the night Astrid fled from home and never returned. It was over fifteen years ago, but the words continued to linger in the shadows of her mind. That was when she knew her sister’s laugh hurt her more than their father’s fists ever did. Now, she stood in the park and rubbed at her flesh through her jacket. She’d put all of this behind her a long time ago; it would be easy to leave and follow through on the plans she’d spent a year making. And then she remembered her niece.
A great pang gripped her heart. She was worrying about what the future held for Olivia, troubled at the possibility the man who’d ruined Astrid’s childhood lurked in the periphery of Olivia’s life. A harvest of barren regrets consumed her as the gang emerged from the shadows, heading towards the swings and the other child. He was a dark-haired boy of about Olivia’s age. The adult with him, a woman in her mid-twenties, was as observant as Astrid and rushed to get him before the group arrived.
The gang left the darkness, marching towards the middle of the playground. The two at the front strode with a swagger born from years of giving orders and arrogance gleaned from the fawning of acolytes. They sat in the vacated swings while the other four stomped around in an agitated state. Astrid recognised the movements of people desperate for a fix.
‘Come here, kid.’
His voice croaked through the dead frog stuck in his throat. Olivia and Colleen were in the playground, plus the six intruders. Astrid stood, glued to the shadows, and moved towards the entrance. She stared at Olivia, her mind a barrage of memories long since submerged into the darkest parts of her brain. She forgot her past, remembered what she did in the present, and considered if she’d be this lonely for the rest of her life.
Astrid focused on the gang and knew what she had to do.