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~ CHAPTER FIVE ~
Helen shouldered her rucksack, collected the holdall from the bed and with absolute defiance in her vivid green eyes she took one last look around the room which had been her home for the past four years.
She would not be sorry to leave. She was never sorry to leave. She was well used to leaving.
Three Children’s Homes and eight different sets of foster parents, all crammed into her short 16 year life, had made leaving easy.
However, this time was different, this time she was going to be out there in the world on her own. She was leaving care for good.
Two weeks ago staff at the children’s home had arranged an interview for her with an employment agency, who had now, finally, found her a job. It was only typing but the pay wasn’t too bad and it meant she could just about afford her own place. It was only a room in a shared house, not quite what she had hoped for but it would have to do for a start. She didn’t plan to be there very long.
Money was going to be a bit tight, by the time she had paid her rent and fed herself there wasn’t going to be much left, but she was used to having nothing. She’d had nothing all her life, right from the moment when her natural parents had abandoned her at two days old. She knew she had been abandoned to live alone because she was either not good enough for them or simply because she didn’t fit into their over-privileged lifestyle.
Most people in their social circle just employed a nanny to take care of the baby and carried on as before, with the child growing up thinking more of the hired help than their own flesh and blood. But not her parents, they had been so selfishly dedicated to their jet-set lifestyle they had just abandoned her into the care of social services.
The result was that she had never known the stability and security of a home of her own. She had never known that maternal love, which most children take for granted. Although in fairness she had never allowed anyone to get close enough to her to experience any kind of love. She had always been standoffish and cool towards other people, unless she felt that someone had something which could be of use to her. She cultivated relationships purely for her own gain. In the last two or three years several of her male carers had fallen foul of this particular talent.
The result was a cold, hard, self-absorbed highly opinionated, skilfully manipulative loner. The result was Helen.
She knew she wasn’t like anybody else. She had had years of people telling her to accept her lot and make the best of it, and saying things like.
“You can’t miss what you’ve never had!” and “Let’s face it, it could be worse!”
How could it be worse? Her parents were two of the richest people in the country, but they hadn’t wanted her. Not even enough to employ someone to look after her. They managed to employ people to look after their houses, cars, boats and even their dogs. But they could not do even this much for her, not for their own daughter. Even the various foster parents, who had been paid to have her, had never wanted her around for more than a few months.
But she wasn’t prepared to settle for this. She had a plan and she was going to make a difference. Then they would all be sorry.
Shaking herself from her reverie she hoisted the holdall over her shoulder and left the room without a backward glance, kicking the door firmly shut behind her.
Downstairs she found Sue, Senior Carer on the day shift and, for her sins, Helen’s assigned social worker. She was waiting to drive Helen to her new home.
“All set then?” Sue asked cheerily.
“Yep.”
“Said all your goodbyes?”
“Who to?”
“Er...right, yes, well come on then, let’s go and get your things into the car.” Sue had realised very soon after Helen had arrived that there was no point trying to push her into being sociable. She did things her own way, purely for her own purposes and never for anybody else. At least Sue had always known that whenever Helen was nice to anyone or helpful in any way it was because she wanted something. This had made looking after her for the past four years a little easier at least if not any more pleasant.
Sue was not at all worried about Helen’s ability to survive alone in the big bad world. Even at just sixteen she knew Helen was tough enough and streetwise enough to look after herself. Sue was, however, worried about Helen’s mental state. Her care record spoke volumes.
Wherever she had been placed the reports were always the same. She was headstrong and wilful, selfish and stubborn and not nearly as smart as she thought she was. But nobody, nobody at all, in over 16 years had been able to get anywhere near her. This is what worried Sue. Helen’s inability to be cared for and conversely her inability to care for other people was going to get her into trouble. Emotional trouble and emotion was something Helen simply could not deal with.
She had come into Sue’s care at twelve, and, during the whole of her four year stay, nobody had ever seen her cry. She never joined in with any of the activities enjoyed by the other children, she had never played, she had never laughed except with derision. She had, for a time, bullied the younger children but even that had stopped some two years ago.
Sue was not sure but genuinely suspected this was something to do with Helen’s longer term plan to get out of the children’s home as soon as she was sixteen. The belief that the authorities would look more favourably on her request if she had kept her nose clean for some time, was exactly the kind of strategy which Sue had come to expect from Helen.
At the same time, her school record was exemplary. She had never skipped even one lesson she had worked hard and had gained some good GCSE results. Well worthy of continuing on to ‘A’ level but she had been adamant, she was leaving, both the home and therefore school. Sue had tried to persuade her to go on to further education, and had even managed to get her a place at a sixth Form College where she could board. But there had been no point. Helen had decided and she would not be turned.
So despite the reservations she still harboured Sue now found herself driving across Newcastle to the house where Helen was to live. It wasn’t a bad house for a rental, in an OK neighbourhood, and the other four young people sharing the house all seemed pleasant enough.
“Here we are.” Sue said turning off the ignition after pulling up outside the house.
But Helen was already out of the car. Hoisting her bags over her shoulders she kicked the car door shut, shouted “Bye!” over her shoulder without any attempt at pretence that the word was actually directed at Sue and marched up the front path to the door.
“Bye then, good luck.” Replied Sue as much to herself as anyone else as she stared with resignation at the back of Helen’s head. She watched as Helen was greeted by a young lady, whose name escaped Sue for the moment, and then disappeared inside the house, her straight chestnut brown hair swishing defiantly as she strode out of sight.
Starting the car Sue headed back across town, wondering as she went, how long it would be before the other residents asked Helen to leave. Sue was sure they would sooner or later, unless Helen learned some social skills in a big hurry.
“I hope someone remembers to ask her for a forwarding address when she leaves, it’s going to be difficult to keep an eye on her for the next two years if they don’t.” Sue mused. “Although, knowing Helen she’ll probably use me for as long as she can get anything out of the system. No doubt I’ll have to find more than one new home for her during the next couple of years.” Even sue could not have known at this point just how prophetic that thought would prove to be. “Oh well, nothing more I can do for her now. It’s all up to her, which is just the way she’s always wanted it.”
~ CHAPTER SIX ~
As Helen stepped from the cramped train onto the crowded platform at Kings Cross Station and took her first deep breath of dirty train station air she smiled.
She had finally made it. She was in London.
Almost two years to the day since she had struck out on her own, albeit with the oversight of council care, Helen had at last achieved her first goal.
The mundane but useful typing job at the large law firm in the centre of Newcastle which she had secured at sixteen had soon changed, when her bosses had realised how useful she was to have around, she had been promoted swiftly to personal secretary to one of the up and coming junior partners. The upwardly mobile nature of her boss’s career had carried Helen with it and she was soon both well trained and well-organised in all aspects of a successful lawyers daily requirements.
One advantage of Helen’s lack of emotion was the resultant clinical efficiency with which she always did her job. The promotions had inevitably brought with them higher pay and Helen had begun to save furiously to be able to go forward with the next stage of her plan, putting in as much overtime as was available.
The room in the shared house hadn’t lasted nearly as long as the typing job. Her housemates had asked her to leave within a month of her arrival. Being too young to escape her assigned care worker had, at the time, had its advantages too and had nullified any specific need for Helen to learn to get on with people. She simply called Sue and the rest of the problem was handled for her.
She had been re-housed in another shared house, then another and another. In fact, during two years, she had lived in eight different homes, all provided by the long suffering Sue, whose constant attempts at mediation always fell on deaf ears. But now, having at last achieved the magic age of eighteen, she was finally on her own.
A month previously she had heard of a vacancy in the company’s London office and, as she had been growing increasingly weary of her junior partner’s demands, both professionally and sexually, and she felt she had saved sufficient money to afford a deposit on a small flat in Shepherds Bush, she had applied for a transfer. Her boss had been less than pleased.
“I thought you cared about me, what will I do now without you to look after me?” He had whined in the awful spoilt brat voice he always adopted when trying to get her to do something for him. He still had not worked out that the notion that he was in charge was just an illusion she allowed him to believe.
“You’ll just have to fuck your wife instead for now although I’m sure they’ll find some poor mug to replace me.” Her reply had been as dispassionate as ever. “I take it my reference will reflect the fact that you don’t want your wife to know what you’ve been up to for the last eighteen months!” She finished almost with a smile.
Needless to say, she landed the job in London without any difficulty.
Phase one of the plan she had been nurturing for almost six years, since she had broken into the office at the children’s home and made herself a copy of her case file which included her birth certificate, was now complete. She would now be living and working in the same city as her natural parents kept one of their many houses.
Climbing into a taxi outside the station, Helen instructed the driver to take her to the address of her new flat in Shepherds Bush.
“You sure luv? Young girl like you oughta be careful, place like that!”
“I’m not you’re “luv” and I can look after myself!” She glared back at the concerned taxi driver.
“Keep yer ‘air on darlin’, I’s only askin.”
“Thank you I’m sure but there really is no need for you to be concerned!”
At this the taxi driver gave up and concentrated on his driving, getting Helen from Kings Cross to Shepherds Bush in record time.
“Here we are then.” The driver started but Helen was already on the pavement, fishing for the fare in her purse. Without a word she thrust the money into the driver’s outstretched hand and flinging her duffel bag over her shoulder she turned and walked away.
“Well up yours too then, you snotty cow!” The driver made an obscene gesture as he pulled his taxi back into the stream of traffic. If Helen noticed she gave no indication of caring.
The flat was small but adequate. It had one bedroom, a bathroom, a kitchen and a living/dining room. As it was a ground floor flat it even had a small back yard, not that you’d particularly want to sit out in a back yard in the middle of Shepherds Bush but it was there all the same.
There was a closed-up, musky, slightly damp smell about the place when the agent had finally arrived to let her in and give her the keys but Helen didn’t much care. It was late, she had been travelling for much of the day and all she wanted to do was get herself a nice cup of tea and sort out somewhere to sleep. She would tackle the cleaning and decorating as necessary tomorrow. It was Wednesday night so she had plenty of time to get the flat sorted before she started work on Monday.
Four days later the flat was transformed. A coat of white emulsion over just about everything had brightened the place up immeasurably.
Helen had been to the market and picked up all kinds of bits and pieces, a table lamp here, a picture there and several pairs of “not a bad fit” curtains everywhere had all added to the lived-in feel the flat had taken on. Helen had never been particularly flamboyant nor did she have any idea about interior design so the colour scheme was a little flat and none of her purchases actually went together but the place at least now looked comfortable and clean in comparison with the dull damp smelling rooms it had been.
Helen was pleased with the result as she looked around whilst ironing her suit ready for starting her new job in the morning.
“Not bad.” She said aloud to no one in particular. “Especially for four days and a budget of less than £100.”
She gave herself a mental pat on the back for all her hard work as she hung her suit on the back of the door. It was a pale grey suit with a short, straight skirt and a long slim jacket. She would wear a simple cream silk vest underneath to complete her look. It was no coincidence that she had chosen this outfit for her first day. It conveyed exactly the message she wanted to get across.
At first glance she would appear sleek, slim and smart. No frills, no fuss just efficiency and professionalism. To all the men, be they 16 or 60, she would look sexy in her short straight skirt, which showed off the shape of her hips and legs without being too short or too tight.
All the women under a certain age would be wary of her, instantly recognising the competition she represented and, with luck, not try to befriend her too overtly. And, finally, all the women over a certain age would look on her approvingly as she was not blatantly displaying her sexuality but was smart and presentable unlike so many other girls her age.
Helen may have always been something if a social misfit but she was smart enough to realise the necessity of fitting in to an environment until such time as it suited her not to and had managed to invent her own social chameleon to adapt to the world around her.
No one would ever know how much she felt like a fish out of water. No one would ever suspect that the conversation they were having with her wasn’t genuine. The “friends” she made would all believe they knew her, they would all feel they understood her. But no one would ever really know as no one would ever get that close. The only thing in the world Helen could trust was the certain knowledge that the world was against her, out to take what they could get from her and discard her and she had to fight back, she had to be one step ahead of the game always. “Hurt them before they hurt me!” was the one truth she lived by.
Helen went to bed early that night. She wasn’t too sure how long the journey to work was going to take so she wanted to get away early just in case it took longer than it ought. She had no problem sleeping, she was tired from all the decorating and she wasn’t worried in the slightest about starting her new job. What was there to be worried about? It was just the next step in her plan, one day closer to her nemesis.
As she had expected, her new position presented her with no problems at all. She was again personal assistant to a partner, this one was a little older and a bit higher up the ladder than her previous boss and it took him slightly longer to get around to the sordid side of the job. However, within a month the games had begun. Helen had hoped it would be longer but she had never been particularly lucky.
She was somewhat unnerved to discover that this one expected her to enjoy herself too. She had always been able to cope with taking whatever men had wanted to use her for, after all it was usually instigated by her in order to gain some level of control over them, but she was quite unsure how to react to a man who told her he wanted her “to love him back!”
To Helen there was nothing nice about sex. It was something men enjoyed and women used to their best advantage if they had any sense. At least it always had been for her. Men had used her for sex since she had first developed breasts aged twelve or thirteen and she had realised how easy it was to use her body to gain the upper hand, she’d lost count of how many there had been. All the male social workers over the years, they had all wanted a piece of her at some point, never had any of them expressed any real interest in how she felt about it, as far as she was concerned they had all understood it was a quid pro quo. So this was a new and somewhat distastefully bewildering experience for Helen. But, as always she rose to the challenge.
She managed to listen in to some of the conversations the younger women had on their coffee and lunch breaks and gain a few helpful tips on how to behave. Then, as ever, her social chameleon took over and she was away. Her boss was happy in all departments and she could begin to press forward with her plan.
She accepted whatever overtime was on offer and this together with the increase she had gained from moving to London and moving higher up on the partner ladder more than compensated for her increased London rent. So with the money she had spare she began to buy the kind of clothes and accessories she would need when she began the next phase of her plan.
The one and only benefit of her natural parents being as rich and famous as they were was that she could always find out where they were. Who they spent time with and where they liked to eat, drink and party when they were in town.
So, phase two of her plan was to get herself accepted into the kind of social circles frequented by her parents. She knew that to do this she had to attach herself to the right man but at this stage she had no idea who that man could be. Therefore her first priority was to identify him and to do this she had to frequent the same bars, clubs and restaurants as her parents and her parents social circle, hence the necessary clothes and accessories.
With this goal in mind she spent the next few months earning, saving and then spending large amounts of money on some very nice clothes, shoes, handbags and even luggage. Well, after all it certainly would not do to find herself the perfect rich society bloke and then turn up for a luxury weekend away with her clothes in a carrier bag – even a Harrods bag just would not do.
By the end of November she was ready. Just nineteen years old, in possession of some of the best clothes London had to offer and eagerly awaiting her natural parent’s annual return to England.
For each of the seven years Helen had been watching them they had returned to London for the Christmas party season.
Helen knew she had just over two weeks to find and ensnare her man before the Christmas parties started in earnest.
As long as she had him by then she would naturally be invited to all the “right” parties this year and she would then be able to put the third and final phase of her plan into action.
Read Chapters 7 & 8 from Friday 9th June
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