“This is my ninth call in two weeks. ”
Leanne stared at the voicemail she’d left, the familiar damp smell of the flat settling in her nose again. A good tenant. Always paid on time.
And still, nothing. “The flat feels very damp, and that weird smell is getting stronger by the day,” she’d said into the phone. “My little boy shouldn’t have to live like this. ”
She hung up.
It was the same promise she made every time. If she didn’t hear back by the end of play today, she’d take matters further. Across the pub, Ty and the others were tearing apart the cheese and onion crisps like they were hosting a summit. “Talk about fiddling while Rome burns,” one of them muttered, looking over at her.
“I know, but it’s best to keep busy, isn’t it? ”
The trial was hanging over all of them. Sam, the foreman of the jury, had been deliberating for days. Megan, the woman who’d groomed him at just fifteen, had been on trial for inciting a child to engage in sexual activity.
Everyone knew her face. Everyone knew what she’d done. “Do you really think we’ll turn it around? ” someone asked.
“I do, yeah. ”
But the weight in the room said otherwise. Sam was fraying, isolating himself in his own head while the mates tried to hold him together. Nick, his dad, had kept the truth from him about Will changing his testimony.
Sam had found out, and the lie had landed him in a mental health unit. “You should be the one apologizing,” Sam told him. “You lied to my face. You both did.
”
“I know you’re mad,” Nick said. “This is a mental health unit. Mad is a very loaded word. ”
“Your dad was just worried that the truth might be a bit too much.
”
“Well, that’s not his call. ”
Nick had tried to protect him. Sam saw that now. He was still angry, still raw, but he understood.
When Sam asked how long Megan would get if she was found guilty, Nick didn’t sugarcoat it. “Well, pounds to a penny, not long enough. ”
The verdict came in faster than anyone expected. “Have you reached a verdict upon which all twelve of you agree?
”
“We have. ”
“On the charge of inciting a child to engage in sexual activity, do you find the defendant guilty or not guilty? ”
“Guilty. ”
“Yes!
” The shout went up from the gallery. “One down, one to go. ”
“On the charge of inciting a child to engage in sexual activity while in a position of trust by virtue of their role as head coach, do you find the defendant guilty or not guilty? ”
“Guilty.
”
“Yes! ”
And then she lost it. Megan screamed, her face twisting into something unrecognizable. “You are a liar!
I’m not listening! I’m innocent! This is a kangaroo court! ”
The judge slammed down the gavel.
“I WILL NOT TOLERATE THIS TYPE OF BEHAVIOR IN MY COURT. ”
She turned to Sam. “MOM, PLEASE. Don’t let them take me, MOM.
PLEASE HELP ME. ”
But Sam didn’t flinch. He’d seen the ugliness behind the mask, and it no longer frightened him. “It’s over, son,” Nick said, pulling him away.
“It’s over. ”
Five years. The sentence came down later. She’d serve two-thirds because of the change in the law.
“Still not enough,” someone said. She’ll live with that stigma forever, they told themselves. But it wasn’t about her anymore. “Our boy needs to draw a line,” Nick said.
“He will. Just give him time. ”
Maggie was still shaken. “We saw the ugliness behind the mask there.
”
“Ugly? She was out of control. ”
Sam sat in the visiting room of the mental health unit, the flowers Nick had brought sitting on the table. “I’m not ready to go home yet,” he admitted.
“Neither do I,” Nick said gently. “Not because I got angry. That was a pretty reasonable reaction to being lied to by your own dad. ”
“I’m sorry.
”
“I thought of her not going to prison,” Sam said. “It really sent me spiraling. I can’t live life spinning out. I need more tools in my emotional toolkit.
”
Nick nodded. “Weapons in my armory,” Sam added with a small smile. “I’ve been listening to a lot of podcasts. ”
“I’m just glad I’m not her,” Sam said.
Later, Leanne found herself in the Rovers, the night out everyone had been pushing for. “What can I get you? ” she asked. “Oh, a pint of Guinness for Brian, and a ginger ale and ice for me, please,” Mary said.
“We had good news,” someone said. “Five years. ”
“Five years? Oh, but I thought his face was tripping at the ATP.
”
“Not that we need chapter and verse. ”
“Well, as a matter of public record, yes, her face was tripping her. She threw all her toys out of the dock. They dragged her off kicking and screaming.
”
Leanne couldn’t stop thinking about the flat. The damp. The smell. The leak in the gully that had been botched in the past.
“Can’t you try and get it fixed? ” someone asked. “I’ve tried. It’s been botched before, so they need to sort it properly.
And it’s going to cost. ”
That night, after Alfie had had his tea and his bath and his story about Greeny, she finally got a reply. Not an answer. Not a solution.
A response. “Hello? Is she there? Sorry, there’s clearly some misunderstanding here.
”
“You’ve been giving me the runaround for weeks,” Leanne said, her voice tight. “I assure you I have no idea—”
“You’re caught red-handed. You’re my scumbag landlord. ”
The silence on the other end was confirmation.
All those calls. All those promises. And now, the man who was supposed to fix the damp walls and the smell that was rotting her son’s bedroom was pretending he didn’t know a thing. But Leanne was done begging.
She hung up, looked at her phone, and made the call that changed everything. The next morning, she walked into the jobs centre with a folder full of evidence—the photos, the emails, the voicemail transcripts. She sat across from an advisor who blinked at the stack. “I need help,” she said simply.
“My landlord’s refusing to fix the flat, and my son is breathing in damp every night. ”
The advisor frowned. “You’ve done everything right on your end. ”
“I know I have.
”
“We’ll escalate this. ”
For the first time in weeks, Leanne felt something close to hope. She walked out into the cold morning air, fixed her coat, and went home to make Alfie his breakfast. The road ahead was uncertain, but she wasn’t about to let her little boy live like that anymore.
“She’s been living rent free in your head for way too long,” a friend had told Sam. “And none of this is your fault. ”
“I know. I do now.
Most of the time. ”
“Your GCSEs? Resits, maybe, if necessary. But you’re young.
It’s all to play for now, kiddo. ”
Sam nodded. And for the first time in a long while, he believed her.
