Saving Grace

“Swings and roundabouts innit?” Jennie answered, raising her eyebrows, pulling her lips back in a wry smile. I looked at her, taking in the spiky, pink hair and unbelievably tight jeggings. How did she get those things on!

I didn’t respond. But I thought about what she’d said. Perhaps she was surprised I’d even asked the question. Couldn’t understand why I thought it was strange she’d joined the Fallen Angels. Thought I knew it was obvious that becoming one of them wasn’t any worse than trying to stay safe in that neighbourhood, or living with alcoholic parents who didn’t give a damn about you.

That was always the draw. The gangs offered recognition. Attention. Safety. The illusion you could walk down the street with respect, with the reality being it was fear. Fear that ensured most people never looked them in the eyes, crossed the road or stayed in their homes to avoid worrying about or dealing with what might happen to them.

Jennie stood there, hands on her hips, staring at me. Obviously unhappy with the lack of response of my part. She looked so young and vulnerable, but I knew only too well how looks can be deceptive. I waved pointedly at the chair opposite me. And at last, she sat down.

I didn’t want to alienate her. Didn’t want her to feel I was yet another police officer who thought they knew her. Who just wanted to get information out of her or to rat out her friends.

“I didn’t have nothing at home, no parents who cared about me. They weren’t aware I even existed most of the time. So when I met Darios and he asked me if I was interested in being his girl like, an’ joining the Angels, I did.”

I stayed silent. She seemed on a roll now. Needing to talk. Needing to be understood.

“I didn’t know he was gonna do somefing bad. I never hurt no-one in me life.”

She wriggled around in the chair. Like a child in time-out, frustrated and upset about needing to sit there, afraid of moving.

“It wasn’t like we planned it. But they was complaining. Telling us off. Putting Darios down, saying he should pull up his jeans and what was he doing walking around with his underwear exposed and his bum-crack showing.”

“I wanted them to walk away. Wanted them to shut the hell up. I wanted to say didn’t they know, like, that he had a temper. He’d slapped me once or twice, but said sorry. Said he wouldn’t do it again. And I said okay. I forgave him. Knew he loved me. He couldn’t help it like, because of his childhood. His dad always hit him. Right from when he was just a little kid. He was always getting into trouble because he was cheeky. That he only did naughty stuff like most kids do. But his dad was like mine. Always drunk, always angry and ready with his fists.”

I sighed. The stories were always the same. And the law couldn’t cope with all the unloved, unwanted and abused children. I wished it could.

“I understand Jennie, I really do.”

“Yeah, right. I bet you have no idea what kind of childhood me and Darios had. How bad it was.”

But she was wrong. I did. I had grown up with a mother who hated me. Who was always ready with the cane, hairbrush or whatever else she could find to whack the life out of me with. Always ready to tell me how useless I was, how ugly, how I never did anything right.”

“I wouldn’t bet on that,” I said quietly, “but we’re not here to talk about me. I want you to tell me exactly what happened. How Darios reacted to the old couple shouting at him.”

“He kinda like exploded. He turned around and pushed the old lady away. Grabbed the old man and punched in him the face and knocked him down. He was lying on the pavement moaning and there was blood all over him. But Darios was furious. He started kicking him…”

Jennie gulped, the hardness disappearing from her face, her cheeks red and wet. I got up, came back with a glass of water, watched as she wiped away the tears, then drank it down.

“I, I told him to stop. The old woman was screaming, talking on her phone, but I got scared she was calling you lot, so I knocked it outta her hand. Pulled Darios away from the old man and we started to run.”

“Did you know he was hurt really badly?”

“No, but I thought he might be…”

“Did you know I got a call from the hospital while they were bringing you and Darios in?”

“No! How could I?”

“That’s true. How could you? But I did. I did get a call telling me the man died.”

I said it gently, and I wasn’t prepared for Jennie’s reaction. Her face drained of colour and she jerked back as if she’d been punched in the stomach. She bent over, her skinny arms hanging by her side, looking like a little rag doll. I couldn’t hear what she said, it could have been Oh No! I only the awful, pitiful sounds she started making as she shook her head back and forth.

It broke my heart. But I didn’t let it show. Just sat there quietly until eventually she straightened up. Handed her a tissue.

“It is now 7 p.m. This is detective inspector Sarah Giles concluding the interview with Jennie Eames.”

I switched off the recorder, looked up and saw Jennie’s green eyes watching me as I stood up, her defiance long gone. I reached the door and glanced back at her, seeing her hands tightly gripping the arms on the chair. She looked like a trapped animal, a crumpled creature who had lost all hope of escape or being rescued.

It was late, the car park deserted. I rolled down the window and breathed deeply, drawing in the cool night air, brushing tears from my eyes. It was just too damn sad. If only Jennie had been given a chance. If only more parents took responsibility for the lives they created. If only there had been one person in her young life that could have made her feel loved.

I thought about my grandma. My saving Grace. Her kindness, her compassion, her determination and success in getting me away from the horror of my parent’s addiction. Her open, giving heart and loving home that helped me change all those horrible beliefs I had about myself. Her support and encouragement that led to me joining the police and helping kids like Jennie.

The kids who had never known what it felt like to be loved or cherished. The world was full of them. And it didn’t matter how much I wished it wasn’t true, I knew I could never reach them all.

But I could do something. I could help some of them. I could offer them hope, help them change their lives for the better. Give them a safe place in which to learn and grow. A place where someone cared.

Tomorrow was my day off, and after visiting Grace in the care facility, I would spend the day in the teen support center she had founded. Would work on making sure I could find a place for Jennie, when the trial was over.