I’ve carried this secret far too long.  Looking out over the North Sea, Tynemouth Priory is a ghostly silhouette against a gun grey sky. It’s pleasing to see the Lido’s had a makeover, though only a feckless soul would venture there in this cold. Rough waves crash into the rocks throwing up droplets of salt-water sharp against my cheeks.  This was the stamping ground of my childhood.  I touch the edges of two initials carved into the bench, their indentations smoothed by the weather.  When did I last sit here? Thirty years? It really was a lifetime ago. Gentrification has made itself evident all along the coastline. The winkle huts replaced by art galleries, builder’s brew by flat white, and the chintz by boutique.

My fingers are still tracing the letters; C and M. I see my hands as they once were, nails bitten to the quick. There’s laughter.

‘That C is right wonky. Be careful will you? I wouldn’t want you to hurt yourself.’ Floating fragments of remembered conversations. The last time I saw Carly is vivid in my mind. She’s getting into the ambulance, a blanket around her shoulders. A paramedic blocks my sight line and then she’s gone, lost in the wail of the sirens and a sea of flashing blue. After, she moved down South. Back then it might as well have been Australia. I often catch echoes of her, in the curve of a shoulder or the turn of a head. I’ve thought often of tracking her down; so much easier in these digitally connected times. But what do you say?  At the funeral service this morning the vicar was kind, managing to find words where there were none.  My mam. So proud of me the day I won my first case; she was watching from the gallery.  Afterwards she hugged me.

‘I always knew you’d be someone Meg.  Knew you’d find a way to help women like us.’  I wonder if that gets taken into account in the final reckoning?  The balance of good over bad.  Every man I face in the dock stares at me with the eyes of my dad.

***

‘Fucking bitch.’  The blow connects with her face.  ‘Did you not think I’d find out like?’  Mam drops to the ground, arms up protectively around her head.
‘I didn’t do anything. I promise.  He just came over to help fix the toilet.’ He yanks her by the hair.
‘Kind Uncle Davey – just coming to help fix the fittings.  Yeh, right.  ‘Cos most men will do owt for nowt.’  His face is twisting, making him look like a character from a cartoon.   ‘Bet you thought you’d thank him the only way you know how – flat on your back.’
Running from my hiding place behind the settee I head for the living room door, whipping through and into the top passage.  I’m halfway down the stairs when he comes from behind, shoving past and placing the mass of his body between me and the front door.
‘Now where do you think you’re going bonny lass?’  His voice is sugar sweet.
‘Nowhere Dad.’
‘Glad to hear it.  Now get back up there and help your mother get cleaned up. I’m a good man but she’d test the patience of a saint that one.’
Mam’s in the bathroom holding a wet flannel over one eye.
‘I need a proper steak for this like.’
‘I’m sorry Mam – I didn’t mean to tell him about Uncle Davey.’  I bury my head in her stomach.
‘It’s all right pet – you weren’t to know. You’re only a bairn.’ Her hand is soft on my head.
There’s a knock at the front door, followed by muffled voices and the stamp of multiple feet coming up the stairs.  Someone raps on the door.
‘Linda are you in there? It’s the police.’  The voice sounds a bit like the Headmaster when he wants us to pay attention in assembly. I’ve only been at school a year but I’m doing really well. Miss Tindale says I’ll be a lawyer one day with the amount of questions I ask.
‘Be out in a minute officer.’  Mam takes the band out of her ponytail, letting her hair fall round her face.  She whispers, ‘Not a word, right?  It’s our secret. We don’t need any more trouble.  I slipped in the bath ok?’ In the front room two police officers are waiting.  Dad sits me on his knee with Mam next to him.
‘We’ve had yet another report of shouting and fighting. That’s a nasty shiner you’re developing there Linda.’  Mam puts her hand to her face; there are yellow nicotine stains on her fingers.
‘It’s nothing. Slipped getting out of the bath and caught my eye on the corner of the basin.’
‘And the shouting?’ The officer looks at me. Dad answers.
‘No shouting here eh bonny lass?  That old bat downstairs is just out to cause trouble. Got a real Maggie Thatcher complex that one has.  I’ve just got back officer.  Been away on the ships. There’s been no shouting here – ain’t that right Meg?’  His hand is pressed against my waist.
‘No – no shouting.’   Puppet-like, I nod in agreement.
‘Are you sure now pet?’  She has kind eyes, just like Miss Tindale.  His fingers are digging into my ribs. My stomach feels full of stones.
‘Yes, I’m sure.  No shouting.’

***

‘Hey you. You stink of piss and your mother’s a whore.’  Bobby Brown from number 10 is sitting with his mates on a brick wall.  Straining on a leash is the ugliest dog I’ve ever seen.  Its face looks like it’s been mashed between two anvils.
‘Hey, didn’t you hear me? I’m talking to you.  Is your dad in? He owes Jimmy some cash and he’s getting sick of waiting.’ I just keep walking, head down.  It’s easier that way.  At home the sound of laughter mixed with the stoner’s favourite Pink Floyd floats though the open window. I try going round the back to sneak up the stairs. But he’s there in the doorway.
‘There you are. Beautiful Meg. Come and give your dad a kiss on your birthday.’  His eyes are glassy and red rimmed.  ‘Say hello to my mates, pet.’  His arm is heavy across my shoulders as he guides me into the room.  Four men lie sprawled around the floor; the air is hazed with a cloying cloud.  ‘This is Meg boys. Isn’t she beautiful? Today’s her eighth birthday.  Going to be a right stunner this one. Break a few hearts.’
‘Where’s my mam?’
‘She’s upstairs helping Doug with something.  But it’s time he was coming back.’ He bellows. ‘Linda.  Doug. Time’s up now.’ I head upstairs.  The door to my parent’s room opens and out comes Doug. He’s fumbling with his trousers.  He chucks me under the chin.
‘Pretty little mouth – just like your Mother’s eh.’  Laughing he pushes past. In the bedroom Mam is sat on the edge of the bed.  Her shoulders are hunched forward and she’s lighting a roll up with shaking fingers.
‘Mam, are you ok?’ She looks up.
‘I’m fine pet. You don’t have to worry about me. Come here my birthday girl and give me a cuddle.’ I sit on the bed. ‘Look, why don’t we have a nice birthday tea?  Let’s splash out and go to the chippy.  You can even have some scratchings and a can of pop if you want. We’ll sit on the pier and eat them straight from the wrappers.’  She’s smoothing my hair.
‘Really?  Is Dad coming?’ I hesitate.
‘No, just us. It’ll be special. Mam and Meg. We can make some good memories; God knows we need them.’

***

Admiring myself in the cracked mirror of the social club, I twirl round causing the peach taffeta of my bridesmaid’s dress to balloon and swirl.
‘Mam look at me.  At my wedding I’m going to have a glass coach and a gown made of ivory silk, just like Princess Di.  And there won’t be any warm egg and cress sandwiches at my reception. Just dainty little iced cakes.  And everyone will say…’
‘Meg – honestly I don’t know what goes on in that pretty little head of yours sometimes.’  Mam’s beautiful when she laughs.  ‘But you’re so grown up. Can’t believe you’re starting secondary school. My clever Meg, ready to change the world.  You make me feel like a right old woman.’ She pulls me in tight for a hug. ‘Come on love, we’ve got to hurry. He’s had a skinful already and doesn’t like us to be away too long.’  Back at the reception Dad is standing at the bar. We’ve nearly reached him when Uncle Steve steps in front of us, picking Mam up and spinning her round.
‘Hey lovely lady – how about a dance with your new brother-in-law?’
‘Steve – don’t be silly – you need to put me back down.’ Dad is looking over.  Uncle Steve’s acting a bit daft and keeps hold of Mam spinning her around again.
‘Seriously Steve, stop messing and put me down.’ He releases her and plants a kiss on her cheek, picking me up instead.
‘Well I’d better dance with my pretty niece then.’
‘Meg we’re going home.’ Dad’s come over and has a tight grip on Mam’s wrist. Steve puts me gently to the ground.
‘Alan, going so early? Party’s just beginning.’
‘Party’s over for some.’ He pushes us through the room and out into the car park.  Opening Blue Bessie’s door he steers Mam roughly inside, and motions to me to get in the back.  He doesn’t say anything until we’re halfway along the Coast Road.
‘So?  You and Steve?’ His hands are gripping the steering wheel and there’s a throbbing vein on the side of his forehead.
‘He’s my sister’s husband.  He’s just had a few drinks.  It’s nothing.’
‘Didn’t look like nothing. Laughing and making eyes at him like that.’
Dad jolts the steering wheel.  The car swerves. ‘Am I not good enough for you any more?  You’d rather be with Steve? Well if you fancy him that much you can get back to him right now.’  He reaches over releasing the door handle. The door swings back and the car is suddenly filled with moving air. He starts to push at her.  We’re veering all over the place and I’m screaming.
‘I’m sorry, I’m sorry.’ Mam’s hysterical, but Dad just laughs and continues to shove at her.  Slowing down and turning into a side street he stops the car.
‘You’re never going to leave me Linda. Now let’s get back home.  The boys are coming over and bringing some Big H with them.  You’d like that wouldn’t you?’  He’s pulled up her sleeve and he’s tracing some marks and bruises on the inside of her arm. ‘No Linda, you’re never going to leave.’

***

‘Hey, what you reading?’  Startled I look around for the source of the voice.  It’s coming from a girl.  Not just any girl. The most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen.  If this were a film she’d be all swishy haired and slow motion; my fourteen-year-old heart literally skips a beat.  ‘Can I sit here?’ She takes the seat opposite before I can reply.  Lifting up the front of the book, she tries to read the upside down title.  ‘Oranges are not…’ I shut the book quickly, putting it away. The girl orders a 7up.  ‘I’m Carly.  How come you’re not at school?’
‘Could ask the same of you. But I’ve been sick.’ I lie. ‘Meg by the way.’
‘I’m not at school right now.  My Dad’s a miner and I’ve been sent to stay with my nanna for a bit.’  We start talking and we just don’t stop.  It’s strange how it feels like I’ve known her forever.  We’re still talking when we leave the café, oblivious to the damp drizzly weather.  I show her how to climb round the back of the Priory – scrambling over the cliff side and avoiding the pay booth.  Sitting between the ruined rocks, waves crashing below, I tell her about my life.  The words are tumbling out of my mouth and I can’t stop them. She doesn’t say anything; she just takes my hand and holds it until I have nothing left to say.  Then she kisses me.  Her lips are cold and she tastes of the sea. She kisses me again and deep in my stomach some skaters dance ‘The Bolero.’

‘Be careful will you? I wouldn’t want you to hurt yourself.’
‘Stop fretting. Anyhow a bit of sacrificial blood wouldn’t be a bad thing.  There finished. And it doesn’t matter if the C is wonky – it’s just like me.’ Carly puts the pen-knife away.  I trace the freshly etched letters with my finger and am rewarded with a splinter.
‘Bloody typical.’
‘Here let me look.’  She takes my finger. ‘It’s nothing.’ Putting it in her mouth she sucks gently. Heat floods my body; visceral and immediate. There’s a moment like the space between heartbeats and then she laughs.
‘This is our bench now.  Somewhere you can come and remember me.’
‘I’m not likely to forget you.  It’s been…’ I can’t find the right word. The last few months every minute stolen from my other life has been spent on this madcap crazy girl. I feel different; shiny and new.
‘It’s been perfect.’ I giggle.  ‘But we couldn’t be more teenage cliché if we tried.’

Curtains closed from the relentless sun, we’re lying half clothed on her bed. My head rests on her chest and I’m walking my fingers up the side of her ribcage.  Every touch causes her heart to thud and speed up.  It’s like listening to the colliery brass band play.
‘I’ve been thinking.’
‘Steady on there. You don’t want to overheat that brain of yours!’  She bashes me with a pillow.
‘Seriously – I’ve been thinking about you and your mam and how you get away.’
‘She won’t leave him and I can’t leave her.’
‘But what if we could make him go away.  What if…’ And she told me her plan.  It was a crazy plan.  It was a stupid plan.  It was a desperate plan.  But we were crazy, stupid, desperate, in love, and it was all we had.

Extract from Evening Chronicle 23 July 1984
Police have appealed for help to trace a teenage girl who has been missing from her Grandparent’s house in North Shields for 2 days.  Carly Simmons, age 14 from County Durham, was last seen at 22.30 on Thursday. She is 5ft 4 with auburn hair and was wearing black leggings, a light grey hooded top and trainers.  Her grandmother said, ‘It’s not like her. Carly – if you’re reading this please let us know you’re safe.’ Carly is the daughter of miner and activist Peter Simmons. Anyone with any information on Carly’s whereabouts is asked to contact North Shields Police Station on 0191 236 8273.

‘I’ve got crisps, pop and a ton of chocolate.’ The bag drops on the old mattress.  ‘There’s trouble on the estate.  Your Dad’s been on the telly talking about how the police don’t care ‘cos you’re a miner’s kid. People are looking to cause trouble.’ We’re in the abandoned house next door to mine.  Silver grills at the windows cast a dappled blanket of light over the room.
‘That’ll be just what Dad wants. He’ll say anything for a bit of attention. It’ll blow over. Did you bring me anything to read? Or are you going to stay a bit and keep me occupied?’  She pats the space next to her.  I flop down and she kisses me. That bloody brass band starts to play again.  Later, we talk through The Plan.  I’ve stolen some sleeping pills and tomorrow I’m going to call the police and leave a tip off; strange noises and lights at night, that sort of thing. Then it’s up to Carly.
‘You don’t have to do this you know.’
‘I do because it’ll help you and your mam. Don’t worry I’ve studied dramatics… It was the big bad wolf sir, he grabbed me and was going to gobble me all up.’  She laughs. A slamming door causes me to start.
‘Shush will you, someone might hear. Look, I’m sorry, I’ve got to go, I need get his tea ready.’

Extract from Newcastle Evening Chronicle 26 July 1984
There have been reports of altercations breaking out between police and residents of the Meadow Well Estate today. Tensions are running high over a perceived lack of action by the authorities over the missing teenager Carly Simmons. Her father Peter Simmons said ‘There’s one rule for them and another for us. If she were some politician’s daughter, they’d find the resources.’ The local residents group has pledged assistance, offering to organise a search party.   Estate resident Jimmy Marshall said, ‘The police don’t care about people like us. But we look after our own.’

‘Linda where the fuck are you? Open this door now and get us some scran.’ Mam lets him in.  ‘We’ve drunk everything in the bar. There’s a right party going on.  Jimmy’s lad is stood lobbing bottles over the barricade.  Should have seen it. It’s like the fucking blitz out there.’  She starts getting stuff out the fridge. He grabs her from behind. ‘Lovely ass you’ve still got, pity about the front like.’  She stiffens. ‘What are you staring at?’ He looks at me with addled eyes. ‘Lovely Meg, Beautiful Meg, everything your fucking mother isn’t.  Come here and give your old man a kiss.’  He grabs me. His mouth is hard on mine, wet tongue forcing my lips apart.
‘Don’t you touch her.  Leave her alone.’  Mam launches herself at him. Crack.  He whips round slapping her right across the cheek.
‘What are you going to do about it?’  He goes in for a second blow, his hand changing into a fist. There’s the sickening crunch of bone on bone. She staggers backwards, trapped between him and the sink.
‘What did you say? She’s mine to do with as I please.  Just like you, you old piece of shit. It’s about time she took your place.’  He punches her in the stomach. I run from the kitchen to the front door and out into the street.  The estate is in darkness. There’s shouting and the sound of breaking glass coming from the end of the road; the flames and smoke from a burning car filling the air.  There’s no chance of help.
I run back to the kitchen.  Mam’s lying on the floor and he’s kicking her repeatedly. ‘I’ve had enough of you.’
He stops his onslaught at the sound of me behind him.  ‘Get her upstairs and into her pit. I’ll come for you later.’  He goes to the cupboard and pulls out the tin containing his equipment. ‘First, I’ve got some class A one Jimmy gave me to try.’
I help Mam slowly upstairs. She collapses on the bed. There’s blood everywhere and she’s barely conscious.  I search though my pockets.
‘Take these Mam, they’ll help you sleep until I can figure out what to do.’ My tears are mixing with the blood.  I sit her up and try and get her to swallow a couple of the pills.
‘Love, he’s lost it – you’ve got to go, he’ll hurt you.  Get away. I’ll be ok.’ Her voice is scarcely there.
‘No, Mam. I’m going to look after you and it’s going to be ok. I’m going to sort it, I promise.’  My heart is pounding, every beat filling me with fighting strength; a new plan is forming.
Leaving Mam I creep back downstairs.  The hiss of the lighter tells me he’s getting the scag ready.  There isn’t much time.  I go through the back and into next door.

‘What’s going on out there?  It sounds like a war zone. You ok? You look like shit.’  She’s agitated and biting her bottom lip.  All I want to do is hold her.
‘Carl – we have to do it now, tonight.  When they ask, say you hid the last lot of pills under your tongue and spat them out.  Like we talked about, yeh? The police are never going to come onto the estate now – but they might send an ambulance.’
‘What you going to do?’
‘The less you know the better but when you hear voices you’re going to have to shout as loud as you can.  Bang – anything to get their attention ok?’ I’m stuffing all the chocolate wrappers, magazines and rubbish into a bag.’
‘Just stop a minute will you?’  She puts her hands over mine. ‘Meg, I love you, I really do. And when this is over we’ll find a way to make things work.’
‘I love you too, I always will. I’ll never forget this time.  And I’m sorry, I’m sorry I ever got you involved in all this. I was stupid to think we could get away. He’ll never leave us alone. But I’m going to sort it.’
‘You’re scaring me Meg.’
‘It’s going to be ok, I promise.’  Holding each other we’re back in the space between the heartbeats – just me and her.  I leave her standing there and I daren’t look back.

Coming through the kitchen I scrabble under the sink and find a box of hair dye, ripping it open and taking out the plastic gloves.  In the living room Dad is passed out on the couch.  The TV is on.  Jimmy Saville is fixing it for some young girl to live her dream; his laugh sends chills through me.  Turning it off, I imagine him shrinking until he is like that blip at the end.  Dad’s eyes are moving rapidly beneath his eyelids and his half naked body is sprawled like he’s partaking in a grotesque still life, the track marks on his arms like surreal tattoos. I put on the gloves and taking the spoon that’s been discarded on the table, I shake the brown dust from another folded packet before adding a squeeze of lemon from the Jif bottle.  Holding the spoon under the lighter’s flame I wait for the liquid to bubble, just like I’ve watched Dad do.  In the quiet the lighter sounds like a crashing wave. Picking up the discarded syringe I draw up the mixture.  Moving closer, I’m assaulted by the stench of his body.  I pull at the slack tourniquet trying to coax another vein to some sort of life. Lady Luck for once is on my side and I stab the vein with the needle. Pressing the plunger the dark liquid seeps slowly into his body.

He wakes.  Bolting upright he looks at the needle hanging from his arm, his face registering first surprise and then anger.
‘What the fuck you doing, you little bitch?’  He grabs at my wrist and I try to step back.  His grip is strong and he’s trying to pull me down. Then it hits him. He falls back, letting me go.  Choking noises fill the room. His body is convulsing and his eyes roll back in his head. I just stand there watching him, waiting, until finally he is still and his face motley blue.  I pick my way back across the floor, closing the door behind me.

Walking down the street I throw the gloves to mingle with the flotsam and jetsam of the riot. There is a crowd gathered at the barricade, chanting and hurling bottles.  I start to scream and shout.  Jimmy’s at the back and turns round.  I keep screaming and shouting and one by one they all turn to look.
‘My dad. My dad.’  I’m shouting fit to burst. ‘Somebody help.  It’s my dad. I think he’s dead.  Somebody help.  Please, please, I think my dad is dead.’

Extract from Newcastle Evening Chronicle 28 July 1984
Missing Teenager Carly Simmons has been found safe and well 5 days after being reported missing.  She was found in an abandoned house on the Meadow Well Estate, North Shields. A Northumbrian Police statement said: ‘Paramedics attending the scene of a suspected drugs overdose at West Avenue, North Shields, at 23:00 BST last night had cause to investigate a disturbance from a neighbouring house. Carly Simmons was found unharmed and is currently assisting police with their enquiries.’  Alan ‘Dumper’ Smith was pronounced dead at the scene. Police are asking for anyone with any further information to please contact them on 0191 236 8273.

***

Someone sits down on the bench next to me.
‘I thought I glimpsed you at the back but I assumed it was just my imagination.’
‘I slipped out before the end of the service. Sorry about your Mam. ’ Her voice has retained a delicious hint of her Northern accent.
‘She lived a good life, you know… after. But she never fully recovered.’ I pause. ‘I’m sorry I’ve never tried to get in touch. It was, it is… difficult. It was a different world. So much happened. I didn’t know if…’
‘Let’s just be quiet for now.’ She takes my hand in hers. ‘There’ll be time enough for talking later.’ So we sit looking out over the North Sea, salt-water sharp against our cheeks, Tynemouth Priory a ghostly silhouette against a gun grey sky.