Free Looking for Trouble by Cath Staincliffe

cravat collars. Oh, I know abuse happens in every sort of family, but it still seemed incongruous that the plump, middle-aged woman who stood clutching her handbag and smiling nervously at me, had that dark secret.
    ‘Come in.’ I unlocked the door and led her downstairs. The office still smelt of paint and looked dingy and unwelcoming. I pulled up a chair for her, opposite mine.
    ‘He’s alright then? Where is he? How did you find him?’ She was grinning through the questions. She had a nice smile; it reminded me of the picture of Martin with the fish. ‘Oh, I was so pleased when you rang, you can’t imagine...’ I wasn’t returning her smile. She noticed. ‘Is something wrong?’ Worry enlarged those brown eyes. ‘I thought you said he was alright. What is it?’
    ‘Martin’s okay,’ I said. ‘He’s found somewhere to stay in Cheadle.’
    ‘Yes?’
    My mouth was watering, a small muscle tremoring in my knee. ‘Mrs Hobbs, Martin explained to me why he left home. He told me what had been going on.’ I paused. Expecting some reaction. I got bewilderment. ‘I’d never have agreed to take the case if you’d told me the truth. Is that why you lied to me?’
    ‘What do you mean?’ She was alarmed. ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’
    ‘Oh, come on, stop pretending.’ I spoke roughly, my cheeks burning. ‘Martin was abused by his father for years. When he tried to tell you about it, you threatened to send him away, called him a liar.’
    ‘No...No...’ A strangled cry. Her hand flew to her mouth.
    ‘That’s what happened. Or are you still calling him a liar?’
    She began to rock, back and forth, moaning, ‘ Oh my God, oh my God,’ over and over. She seemed genuinely shocked.
    ‘Don’t you remember? Did you really think Martin had made it up? Children don’t lie about things like that. Did you even ask your husband about it?’ No reply. She continued that disturbing motion. She was a long way away. She’d forgotten I was there.
    ‘Mrs Hobbs.’ I spoke sharply. She stopped rocking. Her hand still covered her mouth.
    ‘I can’t explain,’ she said. ‘I’m sorry.’ She cried silently then. Shoulders jerking up and down. I waited for her to stop. Perhaps I’d misjudged her. Maybe she, too, had been abused by her husband. Robbed of the ability to protect herself or her child.
    Finally, she looked across at me. Her face was blotchy, crumpled with defeat. My mother’s face held that look once. The day my father died. Naked with pain. My stomach contracted. I swallowed hard. ‘I’ve drawn up my account,’ I said. ‘This is the balance owing to you.’
    She nodded, took the papers and put them in her bag. She stood up.
    ‘I’m sorry,’ she said. ‘I didn’t lie to you...you wouldn’t understand...I’d better go.’ I followed her as she slowly climbed the stairs. At the door, she turned to face me. ‘If I’d known...‘ Her face squeezed shut with grief. She shook her head. ‘I’m sorry.’ I didn’t know whether she was talking to me or Martin then. She walked away down the path.
    I shut the door and leaned back against it. I felt like bawling, but my eyes were dry. My throat ached and my fists were clenched as I railed against the painful, bloody mess of it all.
    I wanted to go into town and try and find the young woman I’d met at JB’s, but I was aware Ray had been doing the lion’s share of childcare and didn’t feel I could ask him to take Maddie that afternoon. I called over the road to Denise; she has a daughter at nursery with Maddie. She was happy to look after Maddie for a couple of hours.
    ‘Fine,’ she said. ‘I need a break. If I have to play Princesses once more today I’ll go round the bend.’
     
    She was seated in the same doorway, plaiting her bracelets. She looked very pale, as though she’d never seen the sun. I crouched down at her side.
    ‘Hello, I met you at JB’s.’ I was surprised at the tremor in my voice. ‘I wanted