We reach the railway station, and I push Gabe up the steps ahead of me. The earlier crush has cleared, and I’m hoping the trains are running on time again. To my relief and Gabe’s obvious discomfort, there are a couple of Transport Police officers posted close to the ticket barriers. I keep them in my line of vision while I scan the faces of passing travellers.
The departures board is showing the earlier train to Willington is running almost an hour late, but that’s worked out in our favour. It now means it will be leaving in five minutes.
‘Have you got your ticket, Gabe? The train is leaving soon.’
Gabe’s face is pale, and his eyes are downcast. He doesn’t respond, and I pull him towards me by the sleeve of his tracksuit.
‘We have to go now, or we will miss the train.’
‘I can’t. I have to go back.’
‘What do you mean, go back?’ I say sharply. ‘You can’t go back. We’re getting the train. No arguments.’
We board with seconds to spare. The compartment is crowded and, with no chance of getting a seat, we stand, holding onto the backs of seats for support. Gabe is sulky and ignores my attempts at conversation. He puts in his earbuds and selects some music to stream through his phone. The journey home is punctuated by the tinny vibration coming through his phone speakers. Some of the other passengers find this irritating. I know this, because they look in my direction and tut their displeasure.
Occasionally, I glance over at Gabe. His face has lost its pallor, and his cheeks are pink from the heat of the compartment. Close up, his skin is unblemished with no signs of the pimples that plagued Flynn when he was around the same age. Mel is correct about her boys. His similarity to Tyler is evident, but there are differences. Tyler had thick dark hair and brown eyes. Gabe’s hair is finer and a shade lighter, and although his eyes are also dark, they are an unusual shade of slate grey. It’s possible that in a couple of years, Gabe will become stocky and muscular like his brother. For now, an adolescent growth spurt has turned him into a lanky beanpole with rangy, uncoordinated limbs. It’s such an awkward age, and I’m struck by how vulnerable he looks despite the outward show of bravado. I wish it were in my power to give him back a blameless boyhood. Whatever is taking him up to Birmingham cannot be innocent, if this afternoon’s incident is anything to go by.
The train judders to a halt at Willington station, and Gabe pushes through the throng of standing passengers to get to the doors. I follow, trying to keep pace with his retreating back. We go down the stairs, through the subway and emerge into the gloom of late afternoon. Gabe, still a few paces ahead of me, turns when he realises I am following him.
‘I’m okay. You can go now,’ he says, looking down and scuffing his trainers on the pavement. ‘Oh, and thanks.’
The begrudging acknowledgement makes me smile. I don’t want him to think I’m laughing at him, and I turn my head to prevent him reading my expression.
‘No chance, Gabe,’ I say, grabbing him by the shoulder before he walks off. ‘I want to take you home and make sure you’re safe. It’s important I talk to your mum about what happened.’
He screws up his face, then shrugs his shoulders in resignation.
‘She’s going to fucking kill me,’ he mutters under his breath.
29
Gabe unlocks the front door with his key, removes his trainers and throws his bag down in the hall. He doesn’t invite me in, and I hesitate on the threshold, conscious I am an unwanted guest. For a split second, it crosses my mind that if Mel’s not at home, I don’t have to have a conversation with her about what happened this afternoon. I can go home, pour myself a glass of Prosecco and unwind by watching some crap TV until Laurie returns. Looking at my watch, I see it is just after 5 p.m. It seems an age away from when I was sitting having lunch with Alice.
My back and feet ache from walking, and my calf muscles are throbbing, stretched from the short burst of running. I will have to ring Laurie and let him know I’m getting back later than I said, although weather conditions countrywide mean his journey is likely to take longer than normal. At least it will give me time to make some sort of sense of the episode with Gabe. And there is the knotty problem of how to get my car, which is still parked at Derby station.
From inside the house, I hear the low murmur of voices, then growls followed by loud barking.
‘Kai, Dexter. Heel!’
Mel appears, holding the dogs on either side of her by their collars. They lunge towards me, still barking. She pulls them back, nodding for me to follow her into the lounge.
From where I’m sitting, I can hear the rattling of crockery and slamming of doors coming from the direction of the kitchen.
‘Gabe, take these dogs for a walk while I talk to Fran.’
His head appears around the door. ‘But I’m starving. Can’t I have something to eat first?’
Mel fixes him with a look that shuts down any argument, and he shuffles off, calling for the dogs to follow.
‘What’s all this about?’ Mel says. ‘Gabe isn’t making much sense. What were you doing in Birmingham, and what the hell were you doing following my son?’
Gone is the exposed and vulnerable Mel of my last visit. Her expression is masking a controlled anger, if the tightness around her mouth and the throbbing veins in her neck are anything to go by. Shifting in my seat to ease the discomfort in my back, I feel a sudden flash of annoyance.
‘Do you know what, Mel? I have gone to a great deal of trouble in pursuit of saving your son’s ass and getting him back here in one piece. After the afternoon I’ve had, the last thing I need is a grilling from you. I think the least you can do is offer me a drink.’
Without a word, she gets up and goes to the kitchen, returning a few minutes later with a large mug of tea, which she hands to me. I sip the contents, glad of the warming liquid even though it’s too weak and milky for my taste.
Exhaustion is creeping up on me. Sitting back in the chair, fingers wrapped around the mug, I wish I could stretch out on Mel’s sofa and rest for a while. One thing’s for certain, I’ve decided I won’t be leaving here until I get some sort of explanation from her as to exactly what is going on.
She sits impassively as I tell her why I was in Birmingham and give her my account of what happened from when I first saw Gabe at New Street. I conclude with a sarcastic ‘Great way to spend my birthday’, and she cracks a weak smile in response.
I decide to go for the blunt approach.
‘The thing is, Mel, it doesn’t take much of a leap of imagination to work out what Gabe was doing there. I’m not stupid. He was collecting drugs, wasn’t he?’
She looks off into the distance, then shrugs her shoulders and nods in agreement. I’m grateful she hasn’t decided to play games. She could have denied everything; then what would I have done?
‘Correct me if I’m wrong. My guess would be that you are involved in dealing drugs. You are sending the kids to collect, based on the assumption that if they are caught, they will be treated more leniently. Yes?’
‘It’s not that simple, but by and large, yes.’
‘What I don’t understand is why Tyler was killed, and in such a horrible way? Surely it’s possible to kill someone by less dramatic means and get rid of the body. Or am I missing something? Unless…’
I remember what Mel said about Tyler being a sacrifice.
‘Was Tyler killed as a warning ? Has there been some sort of double-cross? I’ve read about people who use drugs having their homes taken over by dealers. Cuckooing, they call it. Are you being cuckooed?’
She doesn’t look like a user, but appearances can be deceptive. A drinker, yes, but a crack or heroin user? I just can’t see it.
Mel sighs, as though exasperated by the volley of questions. She looks across at me, irritation etched across her face.
‘Ooh, quite the little detective, aren’t we? We have done our homework,’ she says.
It’s a sarcastic retort, and her displeasure with me
is making her Birmingham accent more pronounced.
‘As there’s no point in denying it, I’m going to come clean with you, Fran. The truth is I run my own deal line, if you know what that is, but let’s get this clear: I’m not a user, and I’m not being cuckooed. I’m the one in charge, and what I say goes. It’s a way of making money. Quite a bit of money, actually. It’s kept a roof over our heads for the last few years. It’s not cheap bringing up two growing boys on your own, you know.’
‘I know, Mel, but hard drugs? There are better ways of making money.’
‘And what would you know about it?’ She sneers. ‘With your lovely life and your perfect husband and kids.’
Of course, nothing could be further from the truth, but I’m queasy about defending myself if it means sharing personal details with her.
I can see she is agitated, and I know I have to calm the situation if I’m to keep her on side.
‘I’m sorry,’ I say. ‘I know it must be difficult after all you’ve been through. It was just so appalling and inhumane what they did to Tyler. Those men are wicked. And what about Gabe? Why are they after him? Jesus Christ, Mel, what if they do the same thing to Gabe?’
She studies her manicured fingernails. ‘They won’t,’ she says. ‘I’ve seen to it.’
‘How? They are dangerous; they have proved that. I have no idea what measures you have taken to sort it out, but why the hell would you trust them?’
She looks across at me and smiles. ‘Honour among thieves?’
‘Come on,’ I say. ‘That’s beneath you. It’s certainly no laughing matter.’
‘No, you’re right. It’s too serious to joke about. Despite what you think of me, I have dealt with the situation to everyone’s satisfaction.’
It’s odd. She seems so unmoved and matter-of-fact. We could be having a conversation about something innocuous, like selling party plan. When we first met, she told me she sold make-up, and I do wonder if that’s a convenient cover for her criminal activities.
‘I’m curious,’ I say. ‘What are you going to do to protect Gabe?’
Mel doesn’t reply immediately, leaving an uncomfortable silence stretching out between us. A few minutes pass, and she takes a deep breath, then lets it out slowly.
‘I suppose you might as well hear the whole story,’ she says, drawing the words out precisely as though she’s reading from a script. ‘Then you will understand.’
She gets herself comfortable in her chair, and I wonder how long it’s going to take.
‘So this is how it works,’ she says. ‘My shipments are brought into Birmingham by an acquaintance of mine. He’s a lorry driver. He comes through Rotterdam on a regular basis. The lorries are sealed, and checks are random. Resources at the port are mostly directed at finding large consignments of drugs and illegal immigrants. I buy heroin and ready-prepared wraps of crack cocaine from my Dutch suppliers. The big boys, the gangs running lines out of the big cities, have larger consignments coming in, and also prepare their own crack in home-based factories. That way, there’s more profit for them. My operation is small scale, so I’m not much competition. Until recently, they tended to leave me alone. Then, last year, members of a gang from London arrived on the scene. They had been sent by the man at the top. He wants to spread out and gain control of rural areas in the region. Once they reported back to him, he sent his own runners and started to muscle in on my customers, giving them free samples and undercutting my prices.’
She pauses and looks up at the photograph over the fireplace before continuing.
‘My boy Tyler was furious. I told him to keep away, but he wouldn’t listen. He could be hot-headed and stubborn. There was a bit of argy-bargy, and one of their lads pulled a knife. Tyler got angry and ran off with the lad’s rucksack. Apparently, there was over £2000 in cash and a stash of drugs inside. Tyler knew having the money and drugs in his possession would be bad news if the gang got hold of him. He tried to find the boy to return the bag, but he was picked up before he found him. The way he was killed was a warning to anyone who might think it’s a good idea to rip them off.’
‘So that’s what you meant by saying he was a sacrifice,’ I say. ‘But what about today? Why did those men try to take Gabe?’
‘They don’t want Gabe, they want me. Or, to be precise, what I have to offer. My deal line is already well established with hundreds of customer numbers. Taking over my operation will give them a foothold in the area and allow them to expand. Spooking Gabe was a way of leaning on me to get what they want, and it’s worked. I am handing over my line to them. After what happened to Tyler, I’ve had enough. I want out.’
I have nothing to say in response, useful or otherwise. There’s just too much to take in. Mel seems unconcerned by my lack of reaction. We sit for a while in silence until the click of the back door and the tip-tap of claws on the kitchen floor indicate Gabe is back with the dogs.
‘I really must go,’ I say. ‘Do you have a number for a taxi, Mel? I got the train from Derby this morning, and my car is at the station.’
‘I’ll drive you. It’s the least I can do after you helped Gabe.’
Too tired to protest, I follow her to her car. I don’t see Gabe as I’m leaving. I can’t say I blame him. He’s probably had enough of me for one day.
In the car, neither of us is up for talking, and there’s an awkward atmosphere between us.
Mel puts the radio on, and we listen to Rock Classics until we arrive at the station. She pulls the car into a vacant bay opposite the entrance.
‘Thanks for the lift,’ I say. ‘I’ll see you at the funeral.’
She nods, then reaches for my arm as I’m starting to get out of the car.
‘If you’re thinking about going to the police, I wouldn’t, Fran. What they have been doing up to now is nothing compared to what they are capable of.’
‘I understand what you’re saying,’ I say. ‘But I’m not going to withdraw my witness statement. They have to be put out of action and punished for what they have done.’
‘Look,’ she says forcefully, her nails digging into my arm. ‘I can get them to back off, but you have to keep what I’ve told you today to yourself. You’ve seen how ruthless they can be. Do you really want a life spent in witness protection? Because that will be your only option if you mention any of this to the police. From now on, not another word. Understand?’
I nod, and she lets go, slamming the door behind me as I stumble out into the night air.
I stand on the pavement, shaking, and not from cold.
I watch as her car headlights recede into the darkness.
30
I need to stop myself from unravelling. I feel as though I’m disappearing down a rabbit hole. It’s all become too complicated. I’ve been foolish and naive and placed myself in even greater danger, that’s become obvious. Unless I comply and avoid talking to the police, it could be me swinging from a tree like Tyler, or something equally horrible. I’m in a double bind; damned if I do, damned if I don’t. It’s a frightening position to be in, and I have no one to blame but myself. What started as an interest in Mel and a genuine desire to get to the bottom of what happened to Tyler has become a tangled web of labyrinthine proportions.
Sal was right. Mel is running a County Line, and I find it hard to believe she is going to take up a legitimate career after getting used to the lifestyle she has acquired on the back of dealing. She wants to portray herself as some sort of low-level entrepreneur, acting in the best interest of her family, but she is a criminal, not a victim. Now I’m faced with two stark choices. Either I place my trust in what Mel has said and rely on her being able to get the dealers to back off, or I tell the police the whole story and risk whatever might be unleashed as a consequence.
When I was at work, I had a reputation for honesty and fairness. Seen as upright – on occasion, even uptight. Those who knew me well would be shocked, now, if they knew what I have got myself into. Ordinarily, I like to think of myself
as someone who would do the right thing, but this situation is riddled with grey areas. And it’s not just me I have to worry about. Laurie and the kids are also part of the equation. The thought of anything happening to them is too awful to contemplate. I have to find a way of disentangling myself from the predicament I have placed myself in. And soon. Before it gets out of hand.
Flynn rings to wish me a happy birthday. It’s good to talk to him, especially as he sounds so upbeat and enthusiastic. He tells me about his date the previous evening with Eloise while I tell him about lunch with Alice.
‘Come and visit soon,’ I tell him. ‘And bring Eloise.’
I’m bone-weary and flaked out on the sofa with Buddy by the time Laurie gets back. He is tired and grumpy after being stuck in traffic on the M1 for hours.
‘Eventful day?’ he says.
I’m momentarily thrown by his question until it clicks. He’s talking about my trip to Birmingham to see Alice.
‘It was,’ I say. ‘Alice is looking well, and she was on good form. She’s enjoying her training course, and the extra responsibility at work seems to be suiting her. She and Flynn got me a lovely silk scarf for my birthday, though it will have been Alice who chose it. She has a good eye for colour, and it’s a perfect match for my blue dress.’
In A Deep Dark Wood: A psychological thriller Page 16