When I Was Invisible, Page 2

  He’s only a little older than me in physical, countable years, but maybe he is older on the inside. He must have seen so much, doing this job; he has probably seen every crime it is possible to commit. He has probably had every excuse for that crime thrown at him at some point in his working life. Nothing I say will shock or upset him. He may be The One. He may be the rescuer I have longed for all of these years. He may listen, hear it all, and then he may tell me those three words I long to hear and confirm that he is The One, he can save me. He will make sure everything is going to be all right.

  I focus on the table, my music player again. ‘My name is Grace Carter,’ I say. ‘And I am here to report an attempted murder. I will speak to whoever I need to, but that is who I am and what I am here to do.’ Rescues never happen to people like me. You can, after all, only rescue the people you can see are in trouble. And, if you’re like me, and you are invisible to everyone, especially the people who might carry out the rescue, then you have no chance at all, have you?

  DS Brennan’s shoulders fall, his mouth lets out a small sigh of disappointment and frustration as he shakes his head. Carefully he stands. ‘Have it your way,’ he says. ‘My aforementioned colleagues will be here soon to talk to you.’ At the door he stops and turns back to me. ‘Good luck, Grace Carter, whoever you really are.’

  I dip my head further. I can’t let him see the tears that have sprung to my eyes, I can’t give away that a treacle-like emotion has coated my throat. No rescues today, but kindness, concern. They are so very alien to me.

  London, 1999

  I stood by the bins, hidden as much as I could be from the back of the theatre, slowly enjoying my last ever cigarette. It’d been a short but meaningful relationship with those tiny white devils, I’d enjoyed every moment of every one, but I’d promised myself the opening night of my first professional play where I was a stagehand, I would stop. I would have one last cigarette and never go there again. I was good at keeping promises to myself.

  ‘Ah, a fellow deviant and pariah,’ a smooth voice said.

  My heart, my heart. It was as if someone had squeezed it, stopped it from beating, and instantly my body was on edge, on guard, ready for trouble. I didn’t look at his face straight away, I wanted to get the measure of him first, to see what I would be dealing with. I kept my head lowered and checked him over from the corner of my eye.

  Tall, handsome, fit. Expensively dressed, polished. He reminded me of someone, a celebrity; he was a looky-likey who probably dined out on the similarity even if, like me, most people couldn’t quite place him. He wasn’t overtly threatening, I didn’t feel as if I was in imminent danger, but danger comes in all sorts of shapes and sizes, and I knew that. So, I turned towards him but I didn’t drop my guard, and I reassured myself that in five quick steps I’d be back at the stage door, which I’d wedged slightly open when I came out here.

  His smile was smooth and easy when I looked at him. ‘Are you in this play, because I didn’t see you?’ He moved his hands when he spoke, an unlit cigarette was clamped between the forefinger and middle finger of his left hand. ‘I certainly would have noticed you, if you were.’

  I didn’t know what to say to that so smiled at him. I’d ‘run away’ from home two years ago, when I was seventeen, and no one had said anything that nice to me in that time. I’d been felt up on public transport, I’d been propositioned with vile terms and words, I often had to sleep with a chair propped under the handle of my bedroom door because one of my housemates liked to ‘sleepwalk’ into the women’s rooms at night, but no one had ever said anything as nice as that to me.

  ‘I’m sorry, does that sound a bit creepy?’ he asked. ‘I imagine you hear things like that all the time.’

  ‘No, I don’t hear things like that ever, actually. I’m one of the stagehands and I shouldn’t be out here – I should be in there running around with everyone else – but I wanted to have a quick cigarette.’

  ‘Really?’ he asked, astonished. The more I looked at him, the more he reminded me of that celeb I couldn’t quite remember. His name was on the tip of my tongue, what he was famous for was teetering on the edge of my memory, but neither of those things would fall into place, let me recognise him properly.

  ‘I’m really surprised by that. You deserve to be told that every day for the rest of your life. You’re very, very noticeable.’

  I smiled a little wider, then caught myself. I knew nothing about him and he could be saying all that to get me to relax my guard. Even the nicest guys could be dangerous. ‘Thanks,’ I mumbled. I stared at my cigarette for a moment: it was two-thirds gone, but I had to stop now. Get back inside, go back to my job that it’d been so dream-fulfilling to land.

  ‘I also like that you’re a secret smoker, too,’ he said, raising his cigarette. ‘Every day I promise myself no more, but every day I seem to find a reason to break that promise.’ Another grin, this time conspiratorial, trying to bring me into his world. ‘My manager and coach would kill me if they knew.’

  ‘I see,’ I said.

  ‘Don’t say much, do you,’ he stated.

  ‘No, not really,’ I said.

  ‘I’m Todd,’ he said. He held out his hand for me to shake.

  I hesitated. What exactly would I be doing if I took his hand? Would I be promising myself that I would stay out here, just a little bit too long, become a little too involved with this man instead of simply going inside and going back to work? Would I be telling myself that maybe I was ready for this, and I could maybe be someone other than Veronika the runaway whose sister forwarded her mail but who no one in her family spoke to even now, two years later?

  ‘I’m Nika,’ I said.

  ‘Nika, like Nikky or Nicola?’ he asked.

  ‘No, short for Veronika, actually. Veronika with a k.’

  ‘I think Nikky suits you better.’ He smiled at me, so sweetly I thought I would burn up with embarrassment. ‘I’m only going to call you Nikky from now on. That’s if you let me see you again?’

  ‘You want to see me again?’ I asked. I probably had a frown on my face. ‘Why?’ I wasn’t exactly dressed up, I had no make-up on – why the hell would he be interested in me after a few minutes of conversation?

  He laughed. ‘Why do you think? I’d like to take you out. Like on a date?’

  ‘Oh,’ I said.

  From his jacket inside pocket he produced a small white card. ‘This is my agent’s number. Call him, tell him who you are and he’ll pass on the message.’

  I took the card without looking at it.

  ‘Go on, Nikky, take a chance and call me,’ he said.

  After the last few years, after everything, maybe I was due. Maybe this man was going to help me change my life. Make me be the Nika I was meant to be. He had noticed me, after all. After years and years of being unseen by most people, this nice-looking man had seen me and liked me. I smiled. ‘OK, I’ll call you.’

  Roni

  London, 1988

  In our little town, on the south-east side of London, a new dance school opened. They were offering a free session to all local children and teenagers who were interested in dance and Mum didn’t need much persuading to let me go. I had got there late because Mum was taking her time as always and in the end Dad had got really cross and said, ‘Come on, Veronica, I’ll take you,’ and we’d had to run to the car and I had to almost run into this large room with mirrors around every wall, a long wooden barre running around the middle of the mirrored walls.

  There were lots and lots of other children sitting in there but the beautiful teacher was talking so I couldn’t look around to see if there was anyone I knew. I sat down and listened to her. And after I listened to her speak, I knew I was going to be a dancer.

  I was eight years old and I was going to be a dancer. Not any type of dancer: a ballet dancer.

  I wanted to be like the pretty lady in front of me. I loved her leotard and her floaty skirt, her tights and her shoes. Her shoes were the lovel
iest things I had ever seen. She was wearing black, but her shoes were as pink as candyfloss with shiny ribbons that tied up around her ankles and nearly up to her knees. She said they were pointe shoes and that you only ever wear them for exams or for dancing in shows. She had them on today to show us what we could wear if we decided to become ballet dancers, too.

  I was going to be a dancer. I wanted to look like her, so I was going to grow my hair long and wind it up on top of my head into a bun, and I wanted to be able to do what she had shown us she could do. A few minutes ago, she’d stood on the toes of both feet, and then she’d stood on the toes of one foot – en pointe, she’d called it. Then she’d spun until she was a blur, her leg going up and up and up. She was amazing. Amazing. I wanted to be like that. I was going to be like that.

  ‘Some of you are going to make it as ballet dancers,’ she said, smiling at all of us sitting in front of her. We could see ourselves in the mirror wall behind her, we could see what she saw. ‘Some of you are special, and I – we,’ she pointed to the tall man standing by the piano who was holding a long black stick, ‘we will be able to bring that out in you, help you to become dancers who will dance on stages across the world, and will appear in films and on television. Others of you won’t be able to become professional dancers, and that is OK because we can help you to dance, to nurture and grow a true love of dancing. You might not become a professional dancer, but you will be able to dance much, much better than most people and, most importantly, you will love it.’ She smiled at us. Her face was bright and shiny, she looked excited to be here in the room with us, to be talking to us. ‘You need to decide now if you want to be a dancer. And when you’ve decided, don’t tell anyone else, don’t share your dream, don’t dilute your dream by telling anyone else, just decide and let it be your little secret. We’ll know, of course, so you don’t need to tell us. But it’s important to know what it is you want. And then, we will help you to get it.’ She grinned at us again.

  I’m going to be a dancer, I thought to myself. I want nothing else more in this world than to be a dancer.

  I looked around to see if I could see what the others were thinking. If anyone else had made the same decision as me and I’d have someone to do this thing with. I saw her then. We both stared at each other at exactly the same time, and she had the exact same expression as me, and she was sitting upright like I was, and I could see the decision to be a dancer made her as happy as it made me. It was the other Veronika – Nika.

  We kept on staring at each other. It was like we were made to be best friends. We sat next to each other at school, we had the same name and now we were both going to be ballet dancers. Suddenly she smiled at me and she looked so happy to see me and to know that I was going to be a ballet dancer like her. I smiled right back at her, just as happy as she was.

  Nika

  Birmingham, 2016

  I’m still staring at my music player, working out if I can get my hands to reach out and make contact, when the door opens again. Two new officers enter the room. They have notepads, they have files, they have the exact same look on their faces: ‘Don’t mess with us.’ Anyone would think I was a criminal they’d dragged in to torture information out of, instead of someone who had voluntarily walked in with vital information.

  DS Brennan had been trying to warn me, I think, that things were going to get tougher the moment he left the room. He had no idea, of course, what I know about ‘tough’ and what usually comes with telling the truth.

  ‘Right, “Miss Carter”, we’ve heard much of what you told our colleague, shall we start again from the top?’ The officer who hasn’t spoken reaches out and presses the record button on his machine. I look at both their faces, slowly moving my gaze from one to the other.

  ‘What do you want to know?’ I ask.

  London, 1999

  ‘I don’t want you to go home,’ Todd said. He grabbed me back from opening his front door, and pulled me into his arms.

  Todd wasn’t a celebrity looky-likey, he was a celebrity. Not in the Hollywood megastar sense, but in the being paid a lot of money to play football sense, in the having a wonderful flat that had fancy gadgets and an amazing view over the River Thames sense. And me having to sneak out of his flat in the middle of the night and get a cab home from around the corner so no photographers would connect him and me sense.

  I’d been doing that for four months. Sometimes, to throw people off the scent that I might be dating him and not any of the other mega-rich people in the building, he’d go out and I would arrive after the show and let myself in and sit in the dark so people would think he was still out. Then he would come back at least half an hour later, and turn the lights on, and we’d spend time together until I sneaked out in the small hours. We never had got around to going out on a proper date and I didn’t really mind.

  Todd had transformed my life. He made me fizz with excitement. He told me all the time how much he wanted me, how much he liked being with me; he even gave me a mobile phone so he wouldn’t have to leave messages for me at the theatre, at the café I worked at or at my shared house. Now he was saying he didn’t want me to leave. The excitement inside fizzed up so much I could hardly breathe. I never thought it’d be possible to feel like this. If he put his arms around me, my flinch would be momentary, my innate panic at having someone so close would last for seconds. Todd was incredible and he thought I was incredible, too.

  ‘What do you mean?’ I asked him about him not wanting me to leave. Did he want me to stay all night? I held my breath, waited for him to say one day soon I’d be allowed to stay all night. All night.

  He unhooked my bag from my shoulder, dropped it on to the ground by the front door. Then slowly tugged my leather jacket – another present from him I’d taken weeks to actually accept, and then a few more weeks to actually wear – off my shoulders. He moved closer to me, smiled before he pressed his lips against mine. ‘I mean.’ He pressed another kiss against my lips. ‘I want.’ Kiss. ‘You to.’ Kiss. ‘Stay.’ Long kiss. ‘For ever.’

  For ever? He really wanted me for ever? Not only one night – for ever. He, who could have anyone, looked at me and thought about for ever? ‘You really mean that?’ I asked. That fizzing inside was bubbling up and up. If he meant it, I would be with him any time I wanted. We would be together. We would have so much time together, we’d have a home together. No more sneaking around, no more sharing the bathroom with four other people (Todd’s flat had three loos, and two bathrooms) and no more labelling my food in the fridge. Todd and I could recline on the sofa together and watch television. Recline. On. The. Sofa. Together. Simply reclining on the sofa would be novel – since I’d stopped smoking, there seemed very little reason to leave my room nowadays. When I did venture into the shared living room, I would sit tensed up, trying to work out from the way conversations were going who had fallen out with who because they’d moved someone’s yoghurt in the fridge, or had left hairs in the shower for the third time that week. All of that would be smooshed aside if Todd meant it.

  Since I’d met him, since we’d started this thing between us, I hadn’t been homesick, not once. I hadn’t wanted to go home, fix things with my parents, tell them that I’d do better, I’d appreciate all the sacrifices they’d made for me if they’d just listen to me. Believe me. Since Todd, all I did was look forwards. The past was easier to walk away from, not run and run away from. Sometimes, when I was with Todd, I didn’t feel like a runaway at all.

  ‘For ages I’ve been wanting to say that you can keep that key you’ve got. Murray keeps telling me that I shouldn’t rush into this thing with you, especially since you’re younger than me and no one in the press knows about you yet, and it’s coming up to transfer time soon so I need to keep a low profile off the pitch while at the same time really up my game on the pitch. Murray’s thinking I could make it into the Premier League if I box clever and I shouldn’t let anything get in the way of that.’

  My stomach did a little spin �
� I thought Murray, Todd’s agent, liked me. He’d certainly been really nice to me every time I’d spoken to him on the phone.

  ‘But then, in the next breath, he’s telling me not to let you go because since you’ve been around, happiness has made me play like a demon. No one can touch me when I’m playing and that’s cos I’m so happy with you.’

  I didn’t understand. Was he saying to stay or not? I’d be happy either way, but I didn’t know which way it was. I would happily put my ‘Recline. On. The. Sofa. Together’ dreams on hold if it meant I was still with him.

  ‘I don’t understand,’ I confessed. I needed him to explain, to tell me outright what he wanted.

  Todd hooked the tips of his fingers under my chin and raised my face a little to look at him. ‘I love you, Nikky Harper. Please move in with me.’

  Who’s Nikky? I wondered. Then I remembered: me, I was Nikky to Todd. ‘Even if Murray doesn’t approve?’ I asked.

  ‘Murray will approve. Murray always approves of the things that make me happy.’ He stared intently into my eyes, and I was lost for a moment in the depth of his, how green they were, how beautiful they were when they were focused on me. ‘What do you say? Are you going to stay?’ Another sleepy, sexy smile. ‘For ever?’

  My chest swelled with the huge breath that had filled me. I was so full at that moment. My heart, my head, my everything was full of Todd, full of the man who loved me and who I loved. At one time, my chest had been paralysed, incapable of letting love in or letting love out; at one time, my chest was barely able even to take in or let out air.

  Before Todd, my life had seemed flat, one-dimensional; a bland peach that blanked everything out and made it indistinguishable from everything else in the world. In the four months we’d been together everything had changed. I had someone again to share things with, to talk to, who wanted to be with me all the time. When we weren’t together he would call me and ask when we’d be together. He told me all the time how much he liked being with me. I’d never had so much attention in all my life. No one had ever taken so much interest in me – ever. I loved it. I loved him. Under the fizziness and excitement, there was the knowledge that my heart belonged to Todd.