protective of her son, which meant she’d be guarded, hesitant to open up in front of him for fear of causing him worry.
‘Please, sit down, Steph.’
‘What we gonna talk about today then?’ Steph jutted her square chin forwards. ‘How coming to this place was a bad idea? How that copper assigned to help me integrate – or whatever posh word he called it – has basically given me the brush-off? How last night I was scared to sleep ’cos the dreams have got so bad I can’t bear to shut my eyes, just in case I see him again? Up to you, Connie. You choose.’ Steph threw herself back in the chair; head tilted upwards, a deep ragged breath escaping her open mouth.
Connie’s stomach tightened. Today was different. Steph seemed agitated from the off; no slow build-up. Where should she start? How could she approach her needs in this one-hour session? She decided to give the control back to Steph; clearly the lack of it in her own life made up a large part of her anger.
‘Which of those issues do you think is the main one troubling you at the moment?’
‘They all are. And them are just what’ve immediately sprung to mind right this second. Trust me, there’s a load more to add to that collection.’
‘It’s a case of untangling them, Steph – one by one. At the moment they’re all bunched together and it can be difficult to separate those that are founded, that are actually worthy of concern, and those that can easily be dispelled by just a few moments thinking them through. Seeing if they’re logical; real.’
‘They’re all fuckin’ real.’ Steph turned quickly towards Dylan. He was deeply engrossed in drawing a picture; she sighed and returned her attention to Connie. ‘Okay. I’m dead angry at Miles. He’s dumped me in this town, so bloody far away from my home, and expects me to just get on wi’ it. I know I had no support in Manchester, not really, but I knew people. Knew the places. Knew the dangers. Here, in this weird hippy-Totnes town, I know nothin’.’ Steph waved her arms around, supposedly mocking the town’s residents.
‘Okay. It’s good that you recognise where your anger is directed. We’ll start there.’
Connie relaxed a little. As a starting point, this was actually a good one. Steph had been relocated under the protected persons scheme two months ago. Her assigned constable was Miles Prescott, an old-school police officer – and one who was nearing retirement. Connie had met him a few times; she’d taken on two of his relocates: Steph and Tommy. Those in the scheme were always given access to a psychologist – often they had issues of trust, but mainly they were afraid. And having been taken from their family and friends it meant them starting over again, completely, with different identities, new names. From what she’d learnt of Steph, her sense of identity had already been on rocky ground. She was unsure who she was any more, and the only constants were Dylan, Connie and Miles.
Connie’s input was ten sessions, with an option of monthly catch-ups after – so, soon enough, one of Steph’s three supports was going to go. If she felt Miles wasn’t being as supportive as she’d been led to believe, then she’d feel alone – just her and Dylan. Connie had to try and encourage her to make friends in Totnes, help her to ‘become’ Stephanie Cousins. Put her old name and identity in a separate compartment. Not that anyone could forget who they were; where they came from. And nor should they – but if she was to succeed in integrating Steph here, Connie would have to help her build a new life.
‘So, what is the current situation with Miles?’
‘I think he’s fed up wi’ seeing me. Got better things to do wi’ his time. He told me he can’t babysit me and Dylan all the time, said I gotta be the one to make positive changes and embrace this new life.’ She whispered the next bit: ‘That fucker – I put my life at risk to help ’em out. I went to that court and helped put a lowlife drug dealer away. He won’t rest until he’s made me pay for that. He’d have killed me then an’ there, I could see that in his eyes. They still could, if they find out where we are … Miles is meant to protect me, ain’t he? Not abandon me when it suits him. When I’ve outlived my usefulness.’
‘Is that what you think he’s done? Abandoned you?’
‘What would you call it?’
Connie leant her elbow on the arm of the chair and rested her chin in her cupped hand, contemplating the question. ‘Well, abandonment is a strong word. I wonder if what he’s actually trying to do is reduce his support in an effort to encourage you to go out of your comfort zone—’
‘Er … I think you’ll find coming to this poxy town was already out my comfort zone. Dropping my boyfriend in it, testifying against one of the most powerful gangs in Manchester – that was out my comfort zone. But it’s not just that. What I want now is …’ Steph turned away. Connie saw dots of blood appear on her bottom lip, her teeth clamping down hard and grinding the thin skin.
‘Yes, go on. What is it that you want now?’
Steph wiped at her mouth with the back of her hand, and then looked directly at Connie, the light from the window highlighting the unusual amber shade of her eyes. ‘I want someone to protect me. Make me safe. Stop him getting to me.’
‘Okay, that’s part of the reason you’ve been relocated – to prevent your boyfriend, or any of the gang members, from harming you. Miles has ensured—’
‘No. Not them. And Miles has ensured nothin’, apart from his stupid conviction. He might think he’s protected me by setting me and Dylan up here. But if he leaves me to it now, leaves me to fend for myself, then he ain’t gonna stop him from getting me.’ Steph’s face darkened, her expression fearful, frozen in time. Another time? Some other place?
‘Steph. If you aren’t talking about your ex-boyfriend, or the gang members, then who?’ Connie leaned forwards. ‘Steph.’ She placed her hand on Steph’s knee. Nothing. Steph remained stuck, transported, as if she was in a trance. ‘Stephanie.’ Connie spoke more firmly.
Steph’s eyes returned to Connie’s. ‘Sorry. I was gone then.’
‘Where? Where were you, Steph?’
‘Back.’ She shivered, drawing her unzipped hoody tighter across her chest. Her voice lowered, her tone hard. ‘Wi’ him.’
‘Who? Who are you with?’
‘Brett.’ She spoke the name as if it hurt her to say it.
The silence following the mention of this name stretched. Connie waited for her to elaborate. But she seemed to have gone into a daze again, her eyes penetrating the walls and beyond. Without warning, Steph bolted up and out of the chair, striding towards Dylan. She scooped him up. He thrashed briefly in her arms, trying to reach down for the paper scattered on the floor before she shouted at him to be still. Then she headed for the door.
‘Steph, we still have half an hour of the session. It might be good to carry on, don’t leave now,’ Connie shouted after her as she got up and followed Steph out.
She watched as Steph descended the stairs, Dylan bobbing up and down with each step. As she reached the bottom she turned. Her eyes were wet with tears.
‘He will come for me. He’ll finish what he started. I know it.’
‘How do you know it, Steph?’
‘Forget it, Connie.’ Her voice was flat.
