Chapter 5

We went out for shopping, moving around between the three cities and never using the same supermarket more than once every three months. We had our weekends off and went out on our own. We listened, we filtered, and we built up a knowledge of the gangs, both criminal and right-wing. Whenever we had a new name, we added it to the filter list, so enlarging the database.

It was engrossing work which we loved. It needed an attention to detail, and the odd twist of lateral thinking to decipher what we were looking at. We had the means to research those we got names for, and I was on duty when I read an email from Amelia to one of her gang. The filter words were ‘revenge’ and ‘ambush’. My sister had never changed her email address since she was young, probably thinking that only the recipient would be reading it.

I pulled up her file on the police database for the first time and read her sheet. She hadn’t been a very nice girl in later life. I compiled a report for the Manchester Police with the time and the place where an attack would take place. It made me sad, but I had the job to do. It caused me to look up the refuge that my mother volunteered at, finding the address and pulling it up on Google maps, and looking for a nearby café. I made a note of the most likely place and put the note in my bag.

We didn’t often get thanked for the results, but this time we had an email from a DCI in Manchester, thanking us for the highly accurate information that allowed them to round up the bulk of the members of both gangs, although not before they had been given time to beat the shit out of each other. ‘Andy’ Anderson had been charged with Grievous Bodily Harm with three separate victims and was likely to go out of circulation for quite a while, with her knowledge of martial arts being considered as a weapon.

I rang the refuge and asked them when Mrs. Anderson volunteered, as I had a gift for her from a grateful client. I was luck in that she was there on every other Saturday. I arranged a swap with Hope to take the weekend where I could go and see my mother. It would have to be totally hush hush. One of the vehicles that we had been supplied with was a trail bike, two hundred and fifty cc’s of power. I had been known to take it out and explore the Dales and the nearby open country, so it wasn’t much of a change for me to put the leather outfit on with a full-face helmet and ride off. This time, though, I was heading for the Wirral.

I found the café quite easily, in plenty of time. I rode past, seeing that it was nearly empty. I continued my journey, riding past my old home which looked as if twenty years had passed since I had left it. Something was seriously wrong.

When I got back to the café, it was close to lunch, so I parked the bike and put the helmet on one mirror, shaking out my hair, now grown to a point where the extensions had all been trimmed off. I ordered a chicken salad with a cup of tea and found a table with a good view of the door and the pavement outside. I had started my meal when my mother came in, looking as if she had aged along with the house. She was alone, and I smiled at her. She came over to the table.

“Excuse me, love. You look like a nice girl. Do you mind if I sit with you? I don’t like eating alone these days.”

“Perfectly all right, missus. I spend a lot of my own time alone, usually peering at a computer screen.”

She asked the owner for her usual and sat down opposite me.

“What do you do for a living, dear?”

“I’m with the Government as a researcher. What about you?”

“I’m just a stay-at-home, I’m afraid. Got married, had kids and never had a proper job. I volunteer at the refuge up the road.”

Her meal came and we were quiet as we ate. I looked closely at the woman that I thought would never age, seeing one who had not had it easy. When we were sitting with our tea in front of us, I took the bull by the horns.

“I know you, Mrs. Anderson.”

“You do? How? I’ve never seen you before.”

I reached into my bag and pulled a tatty old piece of paper out of my purse.

“Please. When I give you this, do not scream or shout or hug. Just sit quietly until we can talk like a couple of adults.”

I laid the bit of paper on the table. It just had a few words on it that she had been scared to vocalise, all those years ago. She looked at it, read the ‘I love you, Abel’ and the blood drained from her face. I helped her, getting to put her head down until she could lift it up and look closely at my face.

“You have the same eyes, and I can see some of Abigail in your face. What do you call yourself now?”

“I’m Alexandria, or Alex to my friends.”

“I’m so sorry, Alex. Your father turned into a monster after that day. It was something he was bottling up. He’s now a rabid hater of everything normal. He goes to this club with his friends. I’ve seen him come home with blood on his clothes which wasn’t his. All he wants to do is follow that bastard Trump with his mad ideas. Thank you for coming to see me. How did you find this place?”

“My job involves a lot of research. I was told that you volunteered up the road and kept that in my mind until a time arose when I would absolutely have to see you.”

“What’s happened?”

“Amelia has been arrested on some serious charges. She used her martial arts knowledge to beat three blokes to pulp in a big fight in Manchester.”

“I read about that in the paper. She was involved?”

“She was one of the ringleaders.”

“So, you’re still with the police?”

“In a way but working from London. I can’t tell you anything more, as I’ve signed the Official Secrets.”

“But you have done well for yourself?”

“Very well. If you get a knock on the door regarding Amelia, try to be surprised. It’s likely that she’ll get at least ten years. The other thing you should know is that she is in an all-girl street gang, known for their violence, drug distribution, and a lot of other things. She calls herself Andy and is living with another girl.”

“After you, that will set your father off again. What can I do?”

“I earn a very good wage, and pretty much everything is supplied. I can fund you if you want to leave him.”

“I won’t lie, I’ve thought of it but didn’t have the money.”

I took a wad of notes out of my bag and gave them to her.

“There’s five hundred there. Keep it safe and use it to get away. I’ve put a note with it that has a mobile number on it. Be careful, pack light and take a taxi to a women’s refuge some way away. Ring me with the location and we can work the next step out. It may go to voicemail but leave a message. Did you know that Abigail is living in Australia?”

“Yes, she’s written and offered me space in a granny flat. Do you think I should go there?”

“If she gave you a phone number, call her and talk about it. Tell her not to ring you at home. When you’re clear, I’ll pay for the plane to Canberra. For God’s sake, Mum, don’t tell anyone that you’ve seen me. As far as the world is concerned, Abel Anderson fell off the face of the world some years ago, the last thing on paper was his Degree with Honours from a uni in Liverpool.”

“You always were the clever one. I taped together the bits of paper after your father stormed out for a walk. You really had no other choice but this, didn’t you.”

“No choice at all. I had never developed testicles, so it was either this or living as a eunuch. This isn’t a bad way of living, once I got used to it. It’s just a lot more work to look presentable, but you’d know that.”

“You look lovely. I’m not sure about the studs on the top of the ears, though.”

We both smiled and I held her hand.

“It was a job where I was supposed to look a bit goth. Unfortunately, I’ve grown to like the look. I have to run. You go back to the refuge and don’t say a thing. Keep the cash out of sight until you can get away. If there’s any trouble, I have a lot of coppers who owe me favours in Liverpool. Promotions have happened through information I’ve collected. Save the hugs for when I see you in a safe place, make sure it’s a long way from here.”

I squeezed her hand and stood, leaving her with her cooling tea and going out to the bike. As I rode away, I had a wonderful feeling of joy. The was one parent who loved me, and I had one sister who was normal. Poor Mum, just one good one out of three, she should have stopped after her first.

It took two more weeks before the burner mobile rang. I was reading emails on the screen when I answered. It was Mum and she was in a refuge in Sheffield. I told her that I would see her soon, paged Hope to relieve me as I had business to attend to and went to my room. I called Clara.

“Hello, Clara West.”

“Clara, it’s Alex in Sheffield, can we talk.”

“Go ahead. Is it about your sisters’ case?”

“No, it’s about my mother. I visited her a few weeks ago without notice. I was waiting for her in the café near the refuge she volunteered at. I gave her enough money to leave home, and she is now in a refuge in Sheffield.”

“What do you want me to do?”

“She wants to fly to Canberra to live with my eldest sister. What would be nice is for someone to take over and look after her until she’s left. She did tell me a little about my father, but I didn’t press it. She mentioned him coming home with someone else’s blood on his clothes. She may be able to give more if there’s someone sympathetic with her.”

“All right. You go into Sheffield and stay in a hotel near the refuge. What’s the address?”

I gave her the address and she must have had a computer in front of her as she told me that name of the nearest hotel.

“You go to the hotel and check in. I’ll make a reservation for you. I’ll call Hope now and tell her that I’m sending you on a short errand for me. Wait until she tells you to call me, and I’ll meet you at the refuge. You’re a good daughter.”

I went into the toilet and sat there until Hope knocked on the bedroom door. I called out that I was on the toilet but would be a moment. When I opened the bedroom door, she told me that Clara was sending me into Sheffield on an errand for her, to ring her along the way, and to take the car. I loaded a backpack with a change of underwear and toiletries, said cheerio to the others, and drove the car into Sheffield.

I booked into the hotel and went to the refuge to talk to my mother. When I saw her, I gave her a very careful hug, as she had a black eye and was favouring one arm. She told me that my father had found out about Amelia and got drunk. He then took his anger out on her before he passed out. She had left before he woke up.

While we were talking, my phone rang. It was Clara, telling me that she was on a flight from London to Sheffield, and to pick her up at the airport. She would be calling Hope to tell her that I would be taking a package to London and could be a few days. I told Mum that a friend was coming up from London who would help us sort things out. The two of us drove to the airport to meet Clara. It was a good first meeting between two older women. Clara had a small bag with her, and I drove us to the Hotel where she was given the key to the room she had booked. The three of us had dinner, and Clara told Mum that everything would be done to help her. I walked Mum back to the refuge and told the supervisor that she would be picked up the next day.

That evening, I sat with Clara and filled her in with what little of the back story she didn’t know. She made a phone call to the Mersey Police, asking if they could email her any records they have for Adam Anderson, or any information on a right-wing group near Ellesmere Port.

The next day, we both checked out and went to pick up my mother. Clara showed the superintendent a warrant card and told her to forget Mrs. Anderson being in the building. The first thing we did was to drive to the surgery of the local police doctor, where Mum was checked over, had her scrapes treated and her ribs bound. Then we went south, the two of them in the back.

For me, it was a lesson in interrogation. It was all very easy, with just a chat between two women. The knowledge that Mum had wasn’t a lot, but it was telling. Names of the others in the group with Dad, certain nights when he’d come home looking like he had fallen over, even the name of the group that they were in touch with from America and the church where they met. It was enough to launch a small investigation.

I was directed to the airport hotel, and we were checked into three separate rooms. Later the next day, Mum boarded a Qantas flight to Canberra, via Melbourne, in business class paid for by the Government as a messenger on official business. I was a full day in Thames House, being debriefed. Clara stopped any close examination by telling her superior that she had given me the original information, and that I had only acted after my sister had been arrested.

I drove back to the farmhouse, full of hope that my mother would enjoy her life now. Nothing was said about my time away when I got back. If Clara had been involved, it wasn’t anything to ask questions about. We settled back into a routine.

It was a week or so later when there was a phone message that was flagged. My fathers’ mobile number had been added to the filter and he made a call to one of his friends. It was to set a meeting time at the church to knock some sense into a few faggots. The Mersey police had been looking into a spate of ‘poofta bashings’ and we gave them the information. By the following weekend, my father was in a cell. They had been arrested in the act of ‘sense knocking’ and his DNA had been matched to a case where a young man had died of his injuries.

We carried on with our work for several more years, only broken up for me by being called in to secretly sign paperwork as the son of Adam Anderson, so that I could authorise the sale of the house. The money was sent to Mum and Abigail, as Dad didn’t need it, having board and lodging for the next twenty-five years in Walton Prison. Amelia was given ten years, but never made it back out, having been stabbed in the back by another gang member who had been a friend of someone she had beaten up. I suppose that it was a case of what goes around, comes around.

As a team, we were put in charge of a listening post near London, working with Interpol to try and follow the activities of international gangs. By this time, the computing power had grown exponentially, and we were able to create a lot of links and a whole library full of files on gang members. After ten years there, we were given extended leave. The three of us went to Australia, where I introduced my friends to my mother and sister and met my niece and nephew. Abigail was happy to see me, and not at all surprised at my appearance. Mum was now as old as she had looked when I met her in the café but enjoying life. She even had a boyfriend!

The three of us were now simply Government employees, upper management no less. As such, we had a good reception wherever we went, as part of our trip was to talk to security forces in Australia to gain ideas and pass on some of our own knowledge. We had a great holiday, visiting every capital city police force and ASIO and spending a lot of time lazing in the sun.

When we returned to England we were shuffled to another branch of the security service. This time, we were sent to work at GCHQ, in charge of a group that listened in on the communication channels to try and find links between international criminal gangs and the secret services of other countries. We also had a super-computer that was reading emails and social media platforms to pick up any queries about bomb making, poisons, and the like.

Over the next years, we were three civil servants, working hard to keep the country safe. We all ‘retired’ at fifty-five, on very good pensions. The three of us had remained firm friends throughout our working life, and it didn’t change in retirement. We were supplied with a place near the coast in Dorset by the government, and joined in with the village life as retirees.

The house was quite large, on a hill, and had a turret which was filled with antennae aimed across the Channel when we moved in. We had a steady stream of visitors, all eager to look at the system we had and be taught as much as they could take in the two weeks or more that they stayed with us. The agreement with Thames House was that the house was ours until the last one of us was carried out in a box.

Hope and Mary had the odd fling with guys, but their hearts weren’t in it after their initial experiences. I was just happy being alive. I never had the urge to experiment with any of the men I met; never really having the hormones needed to trigger such a desire.

We always dressed well, looked good, and helped out wherever we could. We looked especially good on the day we were presented with our awards, for services to King and Country.

With my initials being A.A.A, I was, of course, the first in line.

Marianne Gregory © 2026