by Anita Waller
Sonia tumbled sideways and down the hill. With a gasp of shock, Amy reached for and caught hold of her arm but Sonia’s weight pulled her further down the steep incline towards the rocks on the beach below.
For several long moments everything seemed to stop. Amy looked down into Sonia’s terror stricken face and knew that if someone didn’t come to take the strain with her, Sonia would crash down on to the rocks to her death.
She sensed rather than saw Pat scrambling back down the path to help and grew aware of the promised torrential downpour. Water splashed on to Sonia’s upturned face, a face that suddenly disappeared as Amy carefully, centimetre by centimetre, opened her fingers.
As Sonia’s scream began she heard Pat’s gasp of shock. For a moment there was stunned silence from the rest of the girls on the cliff side and then everyone began to shout and cry.
Amy slumped perfectly still, the side of her face pressed into the wet grass.
‘Amy?’ Pat knelt by her, shaking her shoulder. ‘Amy?’
She lifted her head.
‘I couldn’t hold on, Pat,’ she wept. ‘The rain – her arm was just too slippery. I… I tried…’
‘Come on.’ Pat’s voice was gruff. She’d never seen a tear from Amy before, never seen any real emotion at all. ‘Come on, we can’t do anymore.’ She saw the body of Sonia Dawes lying on the rocks at the foot of the cliff and several people running across the sands to her.
A woman reached her first and all the girls paused in their descent to watch. The woman looked upwards towards the party, seeking out an adult figure, and Miss Tomlinson waved a hand. The woman gave a shake of her head and spread her arms wide.
The girl’s frightened faces turned to each other knowing what the arm movement had meant. They increased the speed of their downward trek.
Miss Tomlinson shepherded them all on to the coach then left to join her colleague on the beach.
Pat sat beside Amy who was shivering uncontrollably.
‘You okay?’ she asked.
Amy nodded.
‘Will be. It’s just shock. I had her, Pat, had hold of her, but…’
‘You couldn’t have done anymore, Amy,’ she said firmly, pushing the vision of opening fingers to the back of her mind. She knew she must have imagined it – distortion caused by the torrential rain. If Amy had done it deliberately, she wouldn’t be so upset.
One of the boys looked towards Amy.
‘I think she deserves a medal,’ he called loudly. ‘She almost had Sonia, and none of us did anything at all.’
There was a spontaneous round of applause from everyone and Amy turned her head towards the window.
‘Leave it,’ she said softly, wiping away a tear. ‘I didn’t do anything. She still fell.’
‘But you tried,’ Pat said and placed an arm around her friend’s shoulder, drawing her into the warmth of her own body. She knew the violent shivering wasn’t caused by the cold.
It seemed a long time later that the two teachers returned to give them the news that they already suspected. The fall had killed Sonia.
They headed back to school and then the coach took each individual pupil home. Amy was the penultimate one to leave the coach and she turned to wave to the last girl left as it drove away.
She walked up the path to her home and allowed a small smile to cross her face.
7
Treverick paused outside the huge wooden gates and looked around him. Nobody to meet him but had he really expected a familiar face? Considering that the only visitor he had seen in eight years had been his brother once, he doubted they even knew he was due for release.
He stuffed the brown paper bag under his arm and set off for the railway station to exchange the ticket they had given him for travel to Leeds for one to Wadebridge. They had advised him against returning to Cornwall. Go north, they had said, put everything behind you and try to do something with your life. He could have told them his intention was to do a lot of things with his life.
As soon as he was seated he began to go over the plans he had spent eight years making. His appearance had to be totally altered; his dark brown hair would become blonde; his thin moustache would go and he would begin wearing glasses.
During his years in that cell he had deliberately lost weight, dropping from an eighteen stone giant to a twelve stone slimmer version of the man who had entered the prison. The important thing to do now was to eat and eat and eat. He had to be so unlike the last picture taken of him that he would be completely unrecognizable.
He doubted that the Andrews kid would remember his face at all but her parents would and he knew that by the time he met them again he had to be a stranger, speak with a changed accent and have a job.
The beatings he had endured, that long night of repeated rape by several inmates, the years of solitary confinement at his own request; all this had to be paid for and the Andrews family was the focus of his anger.
8
1958-1964
Amy was hailed as a heroine. The headmistress, who was still in shock that a pupil had died while on a school trip, gave her book tokens. The local newspaper made much of her valiant efforts to hold on to the falling child.
Pat still felt uneasy but put it out of her mind – everyone else couldn’t be wrong, could they? Surely she hadn’t been the only one close enough to see anything…
And so Amy was feted throughout the school; she was happy. Now no one would learn of the rape, no one would be able to taunt her, think of her as someone different to the rest. Yes, she was as happy as she could be, given the fact that she knew she was different, very different.
She never admitted to herself that she had committed murder.
Brenda had to finally let go of her child when Amy turned fourteen.
‘Mom, I’m going to the pictures tonight with Pat.’ She eyed her mother as if daring her to say she couldn’t go, although she pushed her hair back from her forehead, a mannerism she tended to use when feeling insecure.
‘But…’
‘Mom, for goodness sake, nothing’s going to happen to me. There’s very little left that could happen to me,’ she added, a touch of normally hidden bitterness in her tone. ‘And what’s more, I’ll be sleeping over at Pat’s house - her mom says she’ll take us swimming tomorrow morning.’
Brenda looked for help to Jack who shrugged his shoulders. He loved his daughter dearly but he’d been shut out of her life for so long and didn’t feel he could interfere now.
Brenda exhaled slowly, looking at the beautiful young woman her daughter had become.
‘Yes ok, Amy. Just take care – is it only Pat you’re going with?’
‘Oh, Mom,’ Amy grinned. ‘Yes, it’s only Pat and if there was a boy I’d tell you. This is 1960 you know – we don’t hide things from our parents now.’
‘Cheeky monkey,’ her mother laughed. ‘Go and pack your nightie and a toothbrush then. Got enough money?’
Amy nodded.
‘I think so. And I’ve already packed.’ She bent to kiss her mother who was now sitting by Jack on the settee hoping to find solace in his quiet strength. Jack put his hand in his pocket and pulled out a pound note. He handed it to Amy.
‘Here,’ he said a little gruffly. ‘Take this. Don’t want you being short of money while you’re out. Any trouble and you grab a taxi, you hear?’
Amy stared for a moment at the man who she had forced into playing such a minor part in her life and swiftly placed a kiss on his head, a head now covered by very sparse hair.
‘Thanks, Dad, I’ll be fine, I promise.’
As she went through the door to walk to the nearby bus stop to catch one to Pat’s, a tear rolled down Jack Andrews’ cheek. It was the first kiss in eight years from his only child. He felt he had the right to allow a tear to fall.
The girls left the cinema at the end of the film, both drooling over Elvis.
‘My word,’ Pat sighed. ‘That man is wonderful.’ She burst into a chorus of Wooden Heart and
Amy laughed.
‘It would almost be worth joining the army,’ she joked.
‘Wouldn’t it just?’
They left the brightness of the foyer and began to walk along the pavement towards the bus stop. Pat felt a hand go round her waist and she turned to see who it was but Amy didn’t twist to see who had encircled her waist; she swung first and questioned after. Her handbag flew in an arc that terminated on the head of Kevin Morgan, a boy from their school whom Pat had described, at various times, as a wally of the highest order.
‘Ouch!’ he bellowed and immediately let go of Amy. Pat was struggling to get away from the clutches of Robin Trelawney when their path was blocked by two figures.
‘Amy? Having trouble?’ John Thornton stared at the girl who, it seemed, had been part of his life forever.
‘I think I’ve handled it,’ she said, out of breath and trembling. David moved over to Pat and pushed Robin to one side. The two younger boys walked away grumbling that they were only having a bit of fun.
‘Come on,’ John said. ‘We’ll give you a lift.’
‘You’ve got a car?’ Amy looked impressed and he laughed.
‘Amy, I’m a very junior reporter with the Journal – I can’t afford a push bike even! No, young David here has the car.’
David grinned.
‘Don’t get carried away. It’s very old but it will get you home, Amy.’
Pat interrupted, eager to find out how Amy knew these two very good-looking young men.
‘Er… Amy’s staying with me tonight, she’s not going home.’
Amy laughed, recognizing Pat’s ploy.
‘Pat, can I introduce you to John Thornton and David Farmer? They sort of look after me.’
She didn’t want to explain further than that but fortunately Pat was studying David so intensely, it never occurred to her to question Amy.
‘Let’s go then,’ David said, obviously quite taken with Amy’s friend who he hadn’t met before.
Following Pat’s directions they drove down the winding streets into Padstow village and parked looking across the harbour. The moon was low on the horizon, the moonbeam path across the calm waters of the Atlantic Ocean leading in a straight line to the front wheels of the car.
Amy sighed contentedly.
‘We could almost walk it to the States, or wherever is at the other end. Isn’t it beau… lovely?’
‘Come on,’ John responded, ‘let’s take a little walk. Not across the water and definitely not as far as the States! My name’s John, not Jesus,’ he laughed, aware of a new feeling in the air. ‘It’s ages since we talked.’
As they strolled around the harbour wall, he mentioned that Pat and David seemed quite taken with each other and Amy looked at him with alarm.
‘Don’t worry,’ he said, placing an arm around her shoulders. ‘Not all men are like that brute.’
She found it amazing that he understood her so well. Even her own parents had never fully appreciated the overwhelming fear that all men were animals and yet this boy – no, she corrected herself – this man had the gift of seeing into her mind.
‘So, how are things?’
She thought for a moment.
‘Okay, I guess. I can’t wait to leave school, but apart from that, it’s… okay.’
He turned her towards him and the moonlight fell on her dark blonde hair, highlighting it with streaks of silver.
‘Only okay? We’ll have to do something about that.’
‘Nobody can. I just feel different to most people.’
‘You don’t look any different.’
She shrugged her shoulders.
‘I know I don’t. But it’s here,’ She touched her head.
‘Oh Amy,’ and he pulled her close, nestling her head under his chin. He felt her body stiffen and immediately regretted his action. Then slowly she relaxed, the tension leaving her. Their first kiss was fleeting, a mere touching of lips, chaste, virginal.
It left both of them surprised and yearning for more.
‘Come on,’ his voice had dropped an octave. ‘Let’s go back to the car, see what they’re up to.’
They held hands on the walk back, reluctant to admit their need to touch each other. Amy felt totally bewildered by her feelings but John was completely and utterly sure of his.
‘Can I see you again?’
‘Yes.’ She whispered.
When they reached the car, Pat had her head on David’s shoulder and on the drive home she held his left hand through all the gear changes. They made arrangements to join up for tenpin bowling the following weekend. During that week, Amy kissed her father for the second time in eight years.
‘He’s how old?’ Brenda looked askance at her daughter. ‘Eighteen?’
Amy smiled, fully aware of what her mother was thinking.
‘Yes, he’s eighteen but it doesn’t seem like we’re four years apart. He’s always been there, always looked after me…’ She continued to dry the cutlery, carefully laying the items in neat orderly piles.
‘Looked after you? What do you mean? We’ve looked after you, my girl, not this John Thornbridge.’
‘John Thornton, Mom. And you didn’t look after me, at least not at school you didn’t. John did. The kids were pretty wicked after it happened, you know, and John and David were always there to help me out.’
‘And Pat’s going with this David, you say?’
‘Yes.’ She carefully placed a spoon directly on top of the one below it. ‘David works for his dad’s publishing company and John’s a reporter with the Journal, so they’re both very respectable.’
Brenda looked at her daughter for long moments.
‘As long as you know what you’re doing, Amy. Be careful, love. And what did you mean, the kids were pretty wicked? Why didn’t you tell me, or your dad?’
‘Didn’t need to, I had John and David looking after me.’
‘So, when do we get to meet this paragon of virtue?’
‘John and David are picking Pat up first then coming here for me. I’ll bring him in, if you like.’
Brenda met Jack’s eyes and he nodded.
‘Yes, I think we would like that. We’d like to know who you’re going out with.’
Amy finished the last of the dishes and folded the tea towel meticulously, pressing down on it to seal the creases. Although Brenda had accepted the compulsive tidiness of her daughter she never learned how to ignore it and just for a moment she was tempted to grab the cloth, shake it free of its neatness and hurl it across the room.
To Brenda the week dragged slowly. She worried, fidgeted, walked miles deep in thought and finally gave in to the inevitable. She would be meeting Amy’s first boyfriend and she could do nothing to change it.
John Thornton was a complete surprise to the Andrews. Tall, self-assured, he seemed to genuinely care for Amy, promising them he would see that she was home by ten o’clock. His maturity, combined with his blonde good looks won them over instantly and their hearts were considerably lighter as they watched David drive them away.
Slowly, Brenda and Jack accepted that their daughter had another very important person in her life. As time passed, to Amy it seemed that the sun shone more. She was in love and everything was idyllic. One month later Amy’s sixteen year old world collapsed around her.
O level examinations meant her school hours were erratic and Wednesday afternoon found her catching a bus home after lunch. She walked up the lane to find a police car outside the cottage. She quickened her pace, her throat constricting in panic. She began to run.
‘Amy!’ Her mother’s gasp of surprise showed she had not expected her daughter home. Jack stood and moved to her side. He placed an arm around her shoulders and looked at his wife.
‘I suppose this takes the decision out of our hands?’
Brenda looked troubled but nodded slowly. Amy swung around and stared at the two police officers.
‘What’s wrong? Is someone ill?’
Jack left hi
s daughter’s side and moved towards the door.
‘Thank you, Inspector, we’ll handle it now. We’ll explain everything – and thank you for keeping us informed. We appreciate it.’
‘That’s okay, sir. And, as I said, I don’t think you’ve any need to worry.’ He touched his cap, nodded briefly at the three members of the Andrews family and walked out of the cottage.
‘Mum? Dad?’ Amy looked, and felt, bewildered. ‘What’s going on?’
‘Sit down, love. We’ve something to tell you and it won’t be easy to hear. In fact, I don’t think we would be telling you if you hadn’t come in when you did.’
‘I completely forgot you had an exam this morning and would be home early.’ Brenda Andrews spoke haltingly, her face haggard. Jack Andrews looked at his daughter and marvelled at her beauty. How could he have produced something as wonderful as she was? He took her hand in his and held it for long moments.
‘He’s out, Princess.’
Amy jumped at the long forgotten pet name. How many years since he had called her that?
‘Out? Am I missing something? Who’s out?’
‘Ronald Treverick. The animal who attacked you.’
‘But…’
He sighed.
‘I know. We thought it best to let you think he was dead. He moved the gun at the last second – the bullet grazed his scalp. Oh, enough to knock him out for a few seconds and long enough for the police to arrive and move in when they heard the shot, but he wasn’t dead. He’s been in prison for the last eight years. Apparently he had to do extra time because he beat up another inmate. The police were here to tell us he was released yesterday. They don’t seem to think we have any need to panic but when he was first imprisoned he blamed us – his twisted mind thought it was our fault he was locked away.’
Amy’s face was completely devoid of colour. She stood slowly and then ran into the bathroom, retching. Brenda followed her, trying to hold back the tears. She waited until the spasm was over and then carefully wiped her daughter’s mouth.