Just Another Day - Clark Steven (читаем книги бесплатно .TXT) 📗
‘Dave, stop fucking about. Just twat her and get the cuffs on,’ came the voice of his more experienced colleague. ‘She’ll bite your fucking fingers off if she gets the chance.’
He had never heard such abuse and aggression from any sixteen year old and he was genuinely shocked at her behaviour. She was a screaming wildcat and continued kicking and banging the side of the police van all the way to the custody suite. He had never encountered such vile abuse in his short career. She never let up even when being taken from the van inside the station and Dave just managed to avoid serious damage to his manhood when she aimed a vicious kick at his crotch. He felt the toe of her shoe just catch the zip of his trousers and it wasn’t just the exertion of the lock up that had him sweating!
She was too aggressive to be dealt with by the custody sergeant and as is a normal requirement with violent prisoners, she was taken straight to the cells to be charged later when she sobered up.
‘So, would you take her home to meet mum and dad then,’ came the retort from the Sergeant as he looked down at the young officer over the top of the counter as he presented himself before the Custody Officer to explain the circumstances of the arrest. To an onlooker, it might seem somewhat of a waste of time to have to explain the reason for the arrest as it was obvious that she was extremely drunk and disorderly but it was a necessary part of the arrest process to explain to the sergeant who you were, what station you were attached to and the circumstances leading up to the arrest and the justification for the arrest itself and Dave, still struggling to get his breath back related the facts.
‘Do I take it Constable Watkins, that this is your first encounter with young Elizabeth?’
‘Yes Sergeant, I’ve not come across her before’ came his reply.
‘Well, I can tell you now with some degree of certainty, you’ll see a lot more of her in the future. Just some words of advice son when dealing with her again; don’t try and be nice to her when she’s pissed. She’ll do you serious damage if she can. It would not surprise me in the least if we end up fishing her out of the dock on some cold and dark night.’
He saw her at court the next week where she looked entirely different. Clean and tidy, nicely dressed in a pair of smart trousers and matching jacket; respectable to the authority of the court whereby she pleaded guilty and was fined twenty five pounds by the Stipendiary Magistrate who, whilst looking over the top of his half rimmed glasses, dismissed her from the court with the sternest of warnings, ‘And remember young lady to mend your ways and ensure you do not come before this court again or your sentence will be much more severe. Should you appear before me again, I will be minded to give you a custodial sentence,’ before looking at Dave and nodding, ‘thank you officer, you may leave.’
‘Yes Sir,’ said he, almost as sheepishly as the defendant. Having only attended court twice before, Betty was more experienced than him when it came to giving evidence.
Outside the court he was waiting for a lift back to the station when he heard a quiet voice from behind.
‘Excuse me officer.’ He turned and there she was. ‘Can I speak to you in private?’
They turned the corner out of the public eye and she began to cry softly.
‘It was you wasn’t it, you who locked me up? I saw the name PC Watkins on my arrest sheet but I couldn’t remember what you looked like until I saw the Magistrate nod at you in the court.’
She made good eye contact and beneath the tears there was a sadness that he didn’t understand at first. Just for a second, he thought she was going to start sobbing, but she wiped away a small tear and raised her head and the steely glare had returned once more.
Dave looked at her closely; she was a very attractive young girl who looked older than her sixteen years. She could easily pass for an eighteen year old. With short blond hair, shapely figure and just a little makeup, it was easy to see why the punters would be very interested in her assets.
He waited for what he believed would be a tirade of abuse and began to regret being out of the public gaze for a minute. He shouldn’t have taken her round the corner he thought to himself. When she kicked off again, he wanted to ensure there were plenty of witnesses for when he had to lock her up once more for disorderly conduct.
The tirade never materialised.
‘I’m very sorry PC Watkins and I apologise for my behaviour last week. I know you were only doing your job.’ Her words were spoken clearly and politely and her strong Liverpool accent was no more.
‘Did I offer you anything, you know, anything, anything physical?’
Dave was struck dumb. This couldn’t be the same wildcat he had encountered the previous week; the very same lass who was going to, ‘rip your fucking balls off and feed them to me fucking dog.’
After a few seconds he recovered his composure and said, ‘Yes. Yes you did actually.’
‘And did I, you know, did I do it.’
‘No you didn’t, I declined your offer.’
‘Oh, is that right then?’ She said with her head cocked to one side; chewing an imaginary piece of gum, hand on her hip. ‘You declined me fucking offer did yeh?’ spoken in her best Liverpool accent. The tension between them eased and they both laughed a little.
She folded her arms in a gentle, friendly way as she looked down at her shoes which had definitely seen better days. ‘I don’t remember things when I’m drunk. I don’t think I want to remember really. It’s better not too. That way, if I don’t remember, I’ve got nothing to worry about have I?’
As she looked at him, the sadness in her eyes returned again.
He said, ‘Are you OK?’ ‘Not really’ said Betty, ‘but I will be when I’m drunk. See you later and thanks again.’
‘Thanks for what?’ said Dave, ‘Locking you up?’
‘Oh no’ said Betty. ‘I know you had to lock me up, thanks for declining me offer, there’s not many that do.’
She shrugged her shoulders as she turned and headed off to the pub round the corner. At that point, he understood some of the pain behind the eyes. She was only a kid. He watched until she turned out of sight. What a waste, he thought; she was a spirited and intelligent girl who should have had a much better life. Although he had only been in the job for a few short months, that conversation struck him as extremely sad. Their paths would cross many times over the years and she was always violent and abusive when drunk; but, she never made him any ‘offers’ ever again.
They would talk many times over the coming years and Dave had taken a bit of a shine to her in a brotherly, protective kind of a way. When she was sober, she was the funniest, quick witted girl he had ever met. A born mimic who could impersonate most celebrities. She often had him with tears running down his cheeks with laughter. When they talked seriously, Dave would sometimes shudder at her tales.
Even if only ten per cent of what she told him was true, she’d had an extraordinary and painful life from a very early stage. Sixteen years of age, she had led the life of a forty year old.
She once told him that she had been an alcoholic from the age of ten years and had been abused by both her father and his brother, her uncle, from the age of seven.
Her mother and father were both Scottish, and although she was born in Glasgow, she always thought of herself as a ‘Scouser’ having come to Liverpool when she was eight years old.
She told Dave that if she thought of herself as a Liverpudlian, as opposed to Glaswegian, she could almost blot out the fact that Scotland had been the place of her childhood torment.
She used to blame herself that it was her fault. She must have been a very bad girl for her ‘Da’ and Uncle to treat her in such a way. Her Da was kind and affectionate in a proper fatherly way if he hadn’t been drinking. She often said that she got her violence when she was drunk from him; lovely when sober; a right bastard when pissed.
