by Kerry Watts
14
Tommy Angus shivered in the driving rain that had intensified in the past five minutes. Rumbles of thunder echoed in the distance. He’d been transferred from the police station to hospital with just the clothes he stood up in and they weren’t suitable for the conditions at all. Most of the journey had been a blur, his vision obscured through the alcohol. Voices came at him through the bubble of intoxication that enveloped him as he strode on, but he didn’t stop. He heard laughter in the crowds he passed. The cramps had been so bad that the diazepam he’d been given had barely touched the surface. He’d lost count of the times he’d vomited. His whole body had ached for a drink. Tommy thought that death had to be better than this hell: there was nobody to bring his things to him. The nurse told him they couldn’t get hold of Gordon and his parents were gone from his life forever. He’d disappointed his father. He’d broken his mother’s heart. Now they were gone. He was so drunk that he struggled to focus on the road in front of him.
Tommy had had to get out of that hospital. He knew he had been there to get help but they didn’t understand his desperation. Unless you’ve been through it it’s impossible to understand the need. The beast inside that claws at your skin to escape. The agony that strips you of your dignity, forcing you, its victim, into acts of unthinkable degradation and horror.
Tommy couldn’t take any of it back. The pain had been so bad it had been intolerable. He’d signed all the forms they’d asked him to. He’d said he understood the danger he was in without medical treatment but if he was honest, he didn’t care anymore. Tommy had had to get a drink and had found the nearest off licence, downing half the bottle of cheap whisky he’d bought before he’d moved away from the shop doorway. It tasted terrible but that didn’t matter. He wasn’t buying it for the taste these days. Tommy needed it, craved it, to end the twisted agony in his body in the fastest way possible, and he didn’t feel better until he’d drunk three quarters of the bottle.
He was onto at least two full bottles a day these days. Cheap supermarket own-brand whisky or vodka. He wasn’t fussy. Tommy was past caring. Once the physical pain of withdrawal was gone the mental torture still remained; every second of every day, every heartbeat squeezed in its brutal grip.
Tommy staggered in a zig-zag line, his unbuttoned shirt open and flapping in the wind that whistled along the exposed tree-lined road that sliced a winding path through farmland on either side. The branches dipped against the breeze while the lights of the oncoming car lit up the path in front of him.
The driver of the Escort barely had time to brake when Tommy’s outline came into view. The sickening thud came quickly after the long screech. Tommy’s body was thrown over the bonnet before sliding back onto the rain-drenched, muddy, soaked ground. Snatches of light and images flashed into Tommy’s mind. His mum’s body, hunched over the sink. His dad, a bullet wound in his head. Gordon’s face smiling. The argument. He felt the air grow cold around his body before the thud. Then nothing. Only black.
The driver of the car got out to check if Tommy was OK. She searched her trouser pocket for her phone before hurriedly dashing back to her car to find it in her bag. Her baby cried in his car seat on the passenger side.
‘Oh God, no, no, no,’ the woman pleaded then tried to console her sobbing child. ‘It’s OK, shh, Mummy will be back in a minute.’
The driver trembled as she returned to the man lying motionless in the road. So still against the treacherous conditions encircling them.
‘Hello, I need an ambulance,’ the panicked woman sobbed to the operator and gave them the details of the incident. ‘He just came out of nowhere. Oh my God, I didn’t see him.’
The trembling in her legs threatened to bring her to her knees. The rain became heavier in that instant, thrashing the ground in anger. She screwed up her eyes and hunched her shoulder against the force. ‘Yes, we’re on the back road between Luncarty and Stanley. He was just walking down the middle of the road. Please hurry. I’m so sorry,’ she sobbed. ‘I think he might be dead.’
15
1991
Alice Connor’s heart thudded so fast she wondered if it was about to explode. The hot summer sun beat down on her neck and she wanted to swat away the flies that were buzzing around her face but she didn’t want to spook the horse. She was too scared to move anyway.
The horse was beautiful, she had to admit that, but he was so big and he was getting close. She heard a voice behind her tell her to hold her hand out flat so he could nibble the carrot she had for him. His lips were soft and gentle. They tickled too. Alice smiled and pulled the other part of the carrot out of her pocket. She offered the large stallion more. He snuffled his face on her hand again. This time she immersed herself in the closeness. Alice lifted her hand and pressed her palm against his soft, smooth cheek. The horse didn’t flinch. Neither did she. The moment was theirs. The gentle snickering sound soothed Alice’s racing heart. She slid her hand around and moved it up and down his nose. The horse leaned closer. Alice leaned closer still. He closed his eyes. Alice’s eyelids fell in time. There was a real connection. The connection that Alice was searching for.
Alice was stunned to learn that the big stallion that trusted her so quickly had been rescued from a farm where he had suffered a life of neglect. He’d never been struck but his care had been basic at best. He’d been alone for the first five years of his life, kept inside a stable with no access to other members of his herd. That was Alice; her grandparents tried to keep her hidden away. They just wouldn’t listen.
Alice often wondered whether her mother would have treated her that way. But she would never know. Her grandparents told her that she had been very ill after Alice was born and died. It wasn’t until Alice was twelve she learned that she’d committed suicide. Alice had been six months old.
‘Alice,’ a familiar voice called out from behind her.
She turned to see her solicitor walking towards the field.
‘He’s a handsome boy.’ The smiling woman reached over to stroke the stallion, who thrust his face sideways, knocking her hand away. She grinned. ‘Looks like you’re his favourite person.’
Alice turned away from her and caught the stallion’s eye once more. She rested her forehead on his cheek and wished the rest of the world would disappear.
‘I’m here to give you some news; good news, hopefully.’
Alice wrapped her arms around the stallion’s neck and held him tight.
‘A date’s been set for your appeal,’ her solicitor began. ‘I don’t want you to go getting your hopes up but this is a very positive step.’
Alice turned on hearing that. ‘What does that mean?’
Her solicitor smiled. ‘It means you could be going home soon.’
‘Where’s home exactly?’ Alice whispered.
Her solicitor hadn’t finished yet. ‘That’s another thing I need to talk to you about.’
‘Huh?’
‘Well, it’s been decided that perhaps it will be easier for you to have a normal life if you have a new identity.’
It took Alice a moment to process the news.
‘I won’t be Alice Connor anymore,’ she whispered.
Her solicitor shook her head. ‘The judge has approved the request, which doesn’t happen very often, but he agreed, in the circumstances, it’s what you need to be able to move on.’
Alice fell quiet. She nuzzled close to the stallion’s neck, soothed by his warmth. His mane tickled her cheek.
‘Do I have a choice?’ she said without lifting her head.
Alice waited for the answer she knew was coming.
‘No, you don’t have a choice. I’m sorry.’
‘Who will I be if I’m not Alice?’
‘Well, we’ll talk about all that. I’ll explain everything to you, I promise.’ Her solicitor reached out to stroke her arm.
‘What happens to Alice?’ she asked without meeting her eyes. ‘Where does she go?’
Her solicitor sighed.
‘I know this is confusing but Alice doesn’t go anywhere. You just become Rachel.’
‘Rachel?’ Alice remarked. ‘Don’t I get a say in my new name?’
‘Don’t you like it?’
‘It’s not that – it’s so overwhelming.’
‘I know it’s a lot to take in,’ her solicitor added. ‘I’m here to answer all your questions.’
Alice closed her eyes. She wrapped her arms around the horse’s neck, her single tear dripping slowly down his chestnut skin. For a moment, she couldn’t understand the black feeling in the pit of her stomach then it hit her. She lifted her face away and focused her attention on the woman who had the answer.
‘How will David find me when he gets out if I’m not Alice anymore?’ she asked.
16
Jessie stood in the doorway between her kitchen and living room with two fresh cups of coffee in her hand. She’d even wiped the dust off the top of the Tassimo machine that she’d bought in last year’s January sale – which until recently had been used barely a handful of times. Benito was second-generation Italian. He knew good coffee when he tasted it and Jessie had to admit she wanted to impress him so she’d splashed out on the finest latte pods. She had even warmed the croissants she’d frozen last week. This might be another working day for Jessie but that didn’t mean they couldn’t share a nice breakfast. She watched him sleeping on her sofa, snuggled peacefully under her spare duvet. Benito stirred and exhaled deeply, still half asleep.
‘How long have you been standing there?’ he asked, his voice deep and husky from sleep.
‘Long enough to see you drool all over my pillow,’ Jessie teased and laid his cup on the coffee table.
Benito pulled himself into a sitting position and yawned. ‘Is that croissants I can smell?’
‘Yes, it is – help yourself. There’s plenty of butter and jam in the fridge,’ she said and sipped from her mug. ‘Mm, this is delicious.’
Benito lifted his mug and sniffed. ‘Smells like real coffee, Jessie Blake.’
Jessie smiled. ‘Anyone would think I’ve started to like you or something.’
Their eyes met briefly until Jessie’s phone buzzed in her cardigan pocket, startling her and causing her cheeks to blush pink.
‘Hang on,’ she whispered, pressing her hand down and pulling it out to open the text.
Part of her was desperate to click the message open. She’d asked a friend at the station to do a little research for her on a personal matter and he’d been as good as his word when he said he would email her whatever he found.
‘Is everything OK?’ Benito asked. ‘You look like you’ve seen a ghost.’
‘No, it’s fine. It’s just work.’ Jessie stuffed her phone away. It would have to wait.
‘Will you still be here when I get back?’ she asked. ‘You’re more than welcome to stay.’
Benito nodded with a grin and placed his mug back onto the coffee table. He slid back down to drop his head onto the pillow and pull the duvet up around his chin.
‘My only plan for today is to get another couple of hours of sleep.’
Jessie smiled as she watched him close his eyes. ‘You can hop into my bed for a comfier snooze if you like.’
Benito’s eyes snapped open. ‘Whatever will the neighbours say?’
Jessie laughed and patted his arm playfully then glanced at the clock on the TV unit in the far corner. The sound of Dylan’s car horn made her jump. ‘I have to head off now.’ She hesitated then leaned down to kiss his cheek, her heart thudding hard. ‘See you later.’
Jessie stared back at her living-room window before getting into Dylan’s car.
‘Good morning,’ Dylan greeted her. ‘Good night last night?’
‘Why do you ask that?’ Jessie snapped.
Dylan frowned and indicated out of her street. ‘No reason.’
Jessie quickly realised she’d been rude. She was still scared of anyone finding out about her relationship with Benito but that had been uncalled for.
‘Sorry, Dylan. I didn’t mean to bite your head off.’
Dylan shrugged. ‘It’s fine – I live with a tired wife and two toddlers; I’m used to it.’ He pulled up to the roundabout close to the A9.
‘Actually, before we go to Rachel’s could we drop in at the station? I’d like to pick up the red box.’
‘Sure, no problem. Do you think she’ll know anything about it?’
‘No, I want to ask Tommy again first. You heard about the accident?’ she asked.
Dylan shook his head then stared at her. ‘No – what accident? I thought he’d been taken to hospital for detox and rehab.’
‘Me too but I got a call late last night to say he’d discharged himself and had been hit by a car just outside Stanley.’
‘Was he at the house, do you think? I thought we’d locked it up securely,’ Dylan remarked. ‘I suppose he has a key?’
‘Don’t think he was there. I assigned a couple of uniforms to keep watch on the house.’
Dylan laughed. ‘Who got that short straw? I bet that made their Christmas.’
Dylan pulled into the station car park. The low winter sun beamed into the windscreen as he lifted his sunglasses from the glove box.
‘I won’t be long. Hang on.’
Jessie shut the car door and headed inside to retrieve the red tin that had caused such repulsion and intrigue. She wasn’t paying much attention to her surroundings while she considered the case and abruptly thanked the young man in the baseball cap who held the door open for her without paying attention to him. That email crept into her mind.
She walked past the ladies’ bathroom on her way to her office then quickly turned and burst the bathroom door open, locking herself inside a cubicle. She grabbed her phone and clicked on the email. It had a link to Facebook and Instagram accounts for a pretty blonde woman. There she was: the driver of the car that had stopped to help Jessie. She opened Instagram first and instantly felt sick. Dan’s grinning face stared back at her. He had his arms wrapped around a beaming young woman. They looked like any other happy couple. Jessie sighed and felt the knot in her stomach tighten when she remembered the pain Dan had caused her during their relationship. Emotional as well as physical.
‘Haley McKenzie,’ she whispered and browsed for more information.
Jessie frowned when she realised Haley worked in the same hospital as Benito. Not just that – in his department. She was a lab technician. How on earth did she know Dan? What could they have in common? A text gave Jessie a huge fright before she could learn more.
‘Shit, Dylan, I’m just coming,’ she muttered and pushed her phone deep into her pocket. She jogged to collect the tin and made her way back out to rejoin Dylan.
‘DI Blake,’ a voice shouted from behind her just as she got close to Dylan’s car again.
Jessie turned to see a PC holding an envelope in his hand. Jessie moved back to meet him.
‘What’s this?’
The officer shrugged. ‘He just said it was for you and to say he’s sorry.’
Jessie clutched the A5 envelope in her hand and glanced back at Dylan – and gasped at the idea that shot through her mind.
‘Is everything OK?’ the officer asked.
‘It’s fine – thank you for bringing it to me.’ Jessie smiled and nodded to him. ‘I really appreciate it.’
Jessie got back into Dylan’s car with the red tin in one hand and the envelope in the other.
‘What’s inside?’ Dylan quizzed her.
Jessie didn’t answer until she’d peeled it open and lifted out the contents. ‘What the hell?’ she muttered.
17
Rachel could hear voices drift from the kitchen. Caroline Peters was clearly having a breakfast meeting with Kenny. Another one. Rachel snuggled her duvet further around her shoulders. She’d struggled to get much sleep after the phone calls. She wondered if she’d imagined the sound of hammering on the front door but the calls were real. All too real.
When the phone rang, memories of last night forced a rush of nausea through her. She might as well get up. She rubbed her cold arms then pulled on her dressing gown and headed into the kitchen.
‘I didn’t hear you come in last night.’ Rachel kissed Kenny’s cheek and switched on the kettle.
‘Aye, I didn’t want to disturb you, darling, so I crashed in the spare room. There’s tea in the pot if you want some.’
Rachel exhaled loudly, tied the belt on her short pink dressing gown and grabbed the milk from the fridge. ‘Thanks.’
‘You look tired, Rachel. Is everything OK?’ Caroline asked. ‘Kenny told me about your neighbours. How awful.’
Rachel stirred a spoonful of sugar into her mug and stirred. ‘Yep, awful.’
‘I have a meeting in Dundee so I might be late—’ Kenny started to say.
‘Again?’ Rachel expressed her dismay at his comment. ‘What time will you be home?’
Rachel wasn’t looking forward to being alone again but didn’t want to tell him why in front of Caroline; the calls were none of Caroline’s business. She was just an employee. Rachel didn’t like the amount of time her husband spent with her, but she wasn’t naïve enough to believe their relationship was just professional. Kenny’s wandering eye went with the territory, but he knew her secret and had never let her down in the twenty years they’d been together. He provided for her and had helped her achieve her dream of becoming a racehorse trainer. She could forgive an affair or two as long as he didn’t leave. She wouldn’t ask questions and Kenny wouldn’t have to lie.
‘I’ll get back as early as I can, I promise.’ Kenny kissed Rachel’s forehead and walked away. ‘Just have to grab a couple of things from my office, Caroline. I won’t be a minute.’