Chapter 31
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
“ARCADE (FEAT. FLETCHER)” BY DUNCAN LAURENCE, FLETCHER
BLOSSOM
Iwatch from my knees as the cars drive away, as the officers all leave, the silence deafening. Justin is a dead weight against my side, poor kid, having to hold me up when he just watched his brothers be carted away in handcuffs.
Tears burn a path down my cheeks, self bloody tears that won’t change a damn thing. But I’m unable to stop them. Something inside me feels cracked open, not quite broken, but a weeping wound nonetheless.
The crunch of tires has my head snapping up, a black Bentley turning in the dive. It pulls away slowly, unhurried. And it wouldn’t have got past the gates unless it was on the approved list for the guards.
It’s my father’s car.
The crack breaks wide open, my chest feeling like it’s caving in on itself. The fact that not only did my father, Wilson, clearly choreograph this entire sordid affair, he stayed to watch it. To make sure his plan came to full fruition.
Despite the break inside me, the hollow that will never be quite filled, I reach for my phone in the back of my jeans pocket, then dial the guardhouse.
“Miss. Blossom, I’m so sorry, we couldn’t stop—”
“My father is to be removed from the approved list,” I tell Grant, one of my security guards.
“Miss. Blossom?”
“See he doesn’t gain access again, please.”
“Yes, Miss.”
I hang up as Tina appears.
“Let’s get you inside and work out what to do about this mess,” she suggests softly, bending down and helping Jus and I up off the drive. She puts her arm around my middle, and the warmth from her touch helps to thaw my frozen insides a little.
She doesn’t say anything, knows that words are useless right now, and we bring Justin inside, the other children looking scared and worried and it hurts to see our family so undone by one evil man.
“Where are the guys, Miss. Blossom?” Anna asks, her usually steady voice wavering.
Inside I tremble, but I swallow, and try to give her a reassuring smile. “They’ve just had to go down to the police station to answer some questions, poppet. They’ll be back soon.”
One of the others goes to say something, but Tina, bless her heart, interrupts. “Right then, my loves. Let’s reheat this food and have some dinner, then it’s off to bed with you all and if you’re good and go to sleep nicely, we can have a treat tomorrow.”
“What kind of treat?” Peggy asks.
“You’ll find out if you’re good. Come on then,” Tina informs her, somehow weaving her magic wand and getting all the kids back into the kitchen and sitting down while she microwaves meal size portions of the spaghetti.
I’ve no appetite, but after getting everyone drinks, I sit down, listening to their chatter and pretending to eat.
“You can’t sort this out on an empty stomach, love,” Tina chides quietly. “They wouldn’t want you to not eat.”
I have to swallow hard and fight the fresh tears at her words. Because she’s right, and not having them here hurts more than I ever knew it would. It’s unbearable, as if I can’t take a full breath.
I twirl a small amount of pasta on my fork, then place it in my mouth, forcing it down. Then another. I do that until my plate is almost empty, and the kids have finished.
“I’ll sort them for bed, you call Rupert,” Tina instructs, and I nod, taking out my phone again.
I wait until the kids have all gone upstairs after Tina, then dial Rupert’s number. He’s been my lawyer for years, reliable and paid very well. It rings out, and I frown. I know it’s Saturday night, but he’s never not answered my calls before. I leave a message, then end the call.
I want to wait, but I need to know what to do next, so after a quick search, I find another local defence attorney, and dial.
A young man answers after two rings.
“Good evening, Smithson and Sons Attorneys.”
“Thank god, my… friends have been arrested, on false charges I’m sure, and I need help,” I blurt, and then curse myself for sounding like a numpty.
“Okay, tell me what happened and why you believe the charges to be false,” the man says, and so I tell him everything that happened. It’s a release I didn’t know I needed, and he waits a beat before asking my name, then asking me to hold.
Classical music comes over the line, and my heart beats a rapid tune as I wait.
“Miss. Devonshire?”
“Yes, I’m here.”
“I’m sorry Miss. Devonshire, we have a conflict of interest. We can't take this case.” Before I can reply, the line goes dead.
I find another attorney, make the call. The same things happens, different words this time, but they can’t take the case.
My hands go cold as sudden realization hits me. Wilson has gotten to them all somehow. Called in favours, sealed all exits. Anyone in this country is already spoken for.
I slide down to the cool tile of the kitchen floor.
“Think, Blossom.”
But my mind swirls, giving me no answers apart from the look in Ant’s eyes as they forced him into the car. The blood on the side of Steele’s head. The way Nox’s jaw was so tightly clenched it looked painful.
Needing to speak to them, I reach for the county jail’s number, which is where that awful man Grady said they’d be processed.
“Augusta County Regional Jail, how can I help you?” My heart gives a thud.
“I’m calling to find out if three men have been booked in tonight — Anatole Reed, Steele Vaughn and Nox Kane.”
Clicking of keys. A pause that goes on too long and makes my palms sweat.
“I can confirm those individuals are being processed. Do you have a relationship to any of them?”
“I— yes.” I lick my dry lips. “They live with me. Can I speak to them?”
“Ma'am, they won't be available until processing is complete. You can call back in the morning for visiting information.” My heart sinks, nausea swirling in my stomach.
“What about bail? Can I sort that out?”
“I’m afraid they haven’t been set a bail hearing date yet,” the woman replies, sounding almost bored and I have to loosen the tension in my jaw.
“When is the bail hearing? Can you tell me that at least?” I really try to sound polite, it’s not her fault. But it’s hard.
“That'll be set by the magistrate. Typically within 24 hours.”
That's it. That's all I bloody get. The woman on the other end of the line doesn't care that I’ve been sitting on my kitchen floor for two hours now. It's just procedure to her.
“Is there anything else I can help you with?”
“Um, no than—”
The line goes dead.
My head drops as my hand falls into my lap, the phone open and utterly bloody useless.
I don’t know how long I’ve been there when I hear steps, then see two sock covered feet stop in front of me. I look up, Justin’s red rimmed, blue eyes staring back at me.
“You said they were safe here.” His voice is that of a kid who’s had every single promise made to him broken, every single trusted adult gone. It hurts, and there’s not a damn thing I can say.
“I’m so sorry, Jus.” My voice is that of a broken woman barely holding it together, not knowing which way to turn when faced with the might of the rich and privileged.
He stands above me for a moment, then shifts to the side, sliding down the cabinet to sit on the floor next to me.
His stare is empty, his gaze flat, eyes dull. “He promised he’d stay. That we would all stay.”
“Oh, Jus.” Tears fill my eyes. “He meant it, poppet. He still means it. This wasn’t his choice.”
Tina comes in not long afterwards, ushering Justin up to bed, making me get up. My bum is numb, my legs cramping, but I hardly notice as I drift into the sitting room, seeing the sofa that Steel made love to me on, only last night.
I sink down onto it, a cloud of their combined scent wafting up to encircle me and my cheeks grow damp. Without thought, I call Henry. He’s been with me my whole life. Helps me with getting the kids away from their parents.
“Miss. Blossom? What is it?”
I break down, telling him everything in between sobs so raw they leave my throat aching.
“Oh miss,” he sighs. “I can’t get them out, your father has too much sway there. And I ain’t no miracle worker.” He pauses. “But I do have the number of your mother’s old lawyer. She used him for things she didn’t want your father to know about. He’s discreet. And he’s very good.”
My phone buzzes, a contact for Esquire Ralph Symes.
“Call him in the morning, things will feel better then and it’s mighty late, Miss. You should get some rest.”
“Thank you, Henry,” I whisper. “Goodnight.”
“Anytime, Miss. I’ll be by in the morning, see if there’s anything else I can do. Goodnight.”
This time when the line goes dead something small lights up in my chest. I look at the contact, and it’s as if it’s the first solid thing I’ve held all evening.
Locking my phone, I lie down, there on the sofa, pulling a blanket over me, cocooning myself in their scents.
Cedar, clean soap for Ant. Rain on pavement, coconut and coffee for Nox. Motor oil and wild pine for Steele. I wrap them around me, pretending that they are here with me, holding me close as the tears fall down my cheeks and soak the cushion underneath me.
I’m coming, hold on.
“brEATHE ME” BY SIA
STEELE
My head fucking throbs where that asshole hit me with his baton for no good fucking reason. But then again, he’s the type that doesn’t need a good reason. And the shitty treatment didn’t stop with him.
We were man handled through processing, stripped naked in front of complete fucking strangers who judged our bodies when they had no right to look at them.
Our clothes, everything we own taken from us and forced to wear these awful fucking orange jumpsuits that barely fit around my bulky frame.
I saw a glint of amusement in the needy eyes of one cop when I couldn’t get the buttons up above my waist.
Fucking cunt.
And now I’m sitting in a small cell, alone for possibly the first time since I left home.
The silence is loud. Threatening. The sounds of the block distant and with the occasional sudden slamming of doors so relaxing is off the cards.