The Black Sheep

by Sophie McKenzie

  ‘This has gone far enough,’ Dad snaps.

  ‘No, Dad,’ I say. ‘It hasn’t.’ I turn and hurry away. I’m across the hall and yanking open the front door in seconds. I hurtle down the steps to the front path. And run smack into Uncle Perry.

  Horrified, I jump back.

  ‘Francesca, for Pete’s sake,’ he snaps. ‘Watch where you’re going.’

  Heart hammering, I disentangle myself as my uncle adjusts his coat, giving the lapel a fastidious brush with his hand.

  ‘Where are you running off to in such a hurry?’ Uncle Perry asks, a sneer playing around his lips. ‘Got another date with your conman journalist?’

  My stomach lurches into my throat. I grab his arm. ‘Where’s Harry? What have you done with him?’

  ‘Get off me.’ Uncle Perry shakes my hand away, his face clouded with irritation.

  ‘I know you’re behind PAAUL. I know you had Caspian killed. I know you ordered all the abortion doctor murders.’ I watch him closely, trying to catch any hint of acknowledgement in his eyes.

  ‘What are you talking about?’ Perry snaps. ‘You silly hysterical girl. What are you getting yourself in a lather over now?’

  He doesn’t wait for an answer, just pushes past me and strides inside. I make my way, more slowly, to my car. I switch on the engine, still reeling. How could Perry lie to my face like that?

  I grit my teeth and drive off. There’s a police station at Notting Hill. It’s a little further away than the one in Kensington but I know it’s open twenty-four hours a day. Perry might have refused to engage with me, but let’s see how well his defences hold up in the face of some serious police questioning.

  I’m two streets away when a text pings on my phone. I stare at the screen. It takes a few seconds for the words to sink in.

  involve the police and your children die

  I stare and I stare, numb with shock. The car and the world outside whirl around me. The sender has blocked their number. But Uncle Perry has to be behind it. The bastard. Blind rage fills me. I swing the car half-round, gripping the steering wheel so tightly my knuckles whiten. I will go back to him and knock his stupid head off its neck. I yank at the car, trying to force the wheel to turn further. A lorry skims past, horn blaring, missing me by inches. Cars behind me join in the honking. I’m about to yell. To scream.

  And then I remember that though Perry is behind all the murders, he cannot possibly be the actual killer. He must use someone else – possibly several people – to carry out his violent orders. Another connection suddenly fires in my mind. What did Harry say in his USB-stick video? That Dad’s prison rehabilitation charity would be a great way to meet violent criminals?

  Perry goes with Dad to lots of those charity functions. He could find and use ex-convicts easily. My breath catches in my throat. I can’t take the risk. Whoever the killer is, Perry will easily be able to contact them. Which means that if I go back and confront him again, he just has to make a single phone call and Rufus and Ruby will die.

  I gulp. Should I try calling Dad? No, he’ll only point out I have no proof this horrible, threatening message comes from Perry. And he’ll undoubtedly insist – with Perry right there in the house – that I call the police in spite of what the message says. In fact, he’s quite capable of calling them himself.

  Which mustn’t happen until I have the kids safely with me.

  Yes. I blow out my breath, trying to calm myself. Before I do anything, I have to get the kids.

  I reverse the half-turn I’d made, ignoring the catcalls and car horns all around me. I grit my teeth and drive on. I try to focus, to make a plan: once I’ve picked up the kids we will all go to the police. I will show the officer at the station the threatening text, get him to call DS Smart and tell him everything. Maybe he can use tracker software to trace the blocked number of the phone that sent this latest text.

  Hopefully, once the police realise my children have been threatened, they’ll believe Harry is in danger too. I have to trust that they will find him. I have to believe that the police will protect us all.

  I grab my phone and call Ayesha.

  ‘Do you have the kids?’ I ask as soon as she answers. ‘Is Rufus back from school yet?’

  ‘Er, no. Rufus is on his way, he should be here any minute. And Lori took Ruby for ice cream at Mariner’s.’

  My heart pounds. Mariner’s is a public place and she’s there with only Lori – a fifteen-year-old innocent.

  ‘Shit.’

  ‘What’s the matter?’

  ‘Listen.’ I think fast. ‘I’m going straight to Mariner’s. As soon as Rufus arrives, bring him round there. Call me if there’s any problem. Any problem.’

  ‘Okay but . . .’ Ayesha hesitates. ‘Franny, what is going on?’

  My entire world has been turned on its head: my uncle ordered the deaths of my husband and five other men, my sister knows and will do nothing and my father and stepmother won’t believe it’s true.

  ‘I’ll tell you when I see you,’ I say.

  ‘Franny, you’re scaring me. I’m not getting off the phone until you explain what the matter is.’ Typical Ayesha, persistent as ever.

  I frown. Perhaps I should tell my best friend how serious this is. I need her calling Rufus to hurry home, then watching out for danger as she drives him to Mariner’s.

  ‘It’s to do with . . . it’s my family. I need to go to the police.’

  ‘Jesus Christ. Why? Who? Has something happened to Lucy? To your dad?’

  ‘No, no one’s hurt. It’s other people who’ve been hurt.’

  ‘You mean hurt by someone in your family?’

  I hesitate. It’s not that I mind confiding in Ayesha, but I don’t want to have to go through all the sordid details again – and, anyway, my priority right now is Rufus.

  ‘Is it Dex’s dad?’ Ayesha persists. ‘He was violent to your Auntie Sheila once, wasn’t he?’

  ‘Ayesha, please, just get Rufus to hurry back and—’ My voice breaks.

  ‘Franny?’ Ayesha suddenly sounds uncertain. ‘Are you okay?’

  I mean to say ‘yes’, but what comes out of my mouth is, ‘Oh, Ayesha, I’m scared.’ As I say the words I realise that I’m actually shaking. ‘Please just bring Rufus to Mariner’s. I’ll explain everything there.’

  ‘Okay, you know I’ll help in any way I can,’ she says, her tone changing again: now brisk and determined. ‘See you soon.’

  ‘Thank you.’ I ring off and speed all the way to the ice cream parlour.

  Ayesha sends a text to say that she’s got Rufus and they’re on their way to Mariner’s. She’s already outside the ice cream parlour when I arrive, leaning against the wall by the door, a plum-coloured scarf slung over her pink coat. Her expression is grim as I get out of my car and hurry over.

  ‘Is Ruby here? Where’s Rufus?’ I demand.

  ‘They’re fine. They’re inside.’

  I follow her finger pointing through the far window. To my huge relief both kids are sitting with Lori at a booth in the corner. Ruby is smiling, pointing at the menu. Rufus is staring sullenly at his phone. They’re safe. I relax slightly.

  ‘So before . . .’ Ayesha starts hesitantly. ‘You said about going to the police . . . I’m just wondering and I’m sorry to ask again, but . . . is this something to do with your uncle?’

  I spin around to face her. ‘Uncle Perry?’ I exclaim. ‘Why are you asking about him?’

  ‘I’m not. Like I said before, this is about your other uncle . . . Graham . . . Dex’s dad.’ She frowns, wrapping her scarf around her neck more snugly.

  ‘What?’ I stare at her. ‘What are you talking about?’

  ‘Jesus, this is hard. It’s just . . . okay, there was this one night at one of your parents’ parties . . . the one just a week or two before your mum died . . .’

  ‘That’s nearly five years ago,’ I say, impatient with her. ‘What does—?’

  ‘Listen.’ Ayesha’s eyes flash with urgency.
‘So your mum was coming out of the bathroom as I was going in and she’d been crying and we were both drunk. I asked if she was all right and she mumbled something . . . well, basically, she said she was scared.’

  ‘Mum said that?’ I gaze at Ayesha, utterly bewildered.

  ‘Yes, so I asked her: “Scared of what?” And she says, “Not what, who,” so I wonder if she’s talking about your dad and I’m shocked because your parents always seemed to have like this ridiculously happy marriage so I blurt out: “You’re frightened of Jayson?” And your mum looked back at me and said, “Of course not. It’s not him who’s got the power over me,” which was kind of an odd thing to say so, like the heathen I am and being pissed myself and thinking how your family are all these mad Catholics, I said: “Who are you talking about then, God?” And your mum, she was really drunk, she said, “No, but he acts like God.” And then she laughed, and told me to forget it, but I kept asking who she was afraid of and in the end she said it was your Uncle Graham, that he’s well known for his violent streak, and then she hurried away. But I didn’t believe she really meant Graham. There was something in her eyes that . . . I don’t know . . . I sensed she was just giving me a name to make me back off.’

  ‘Do you think she might have meant Uncle Perry?’ My mind catapults across this latest possibility. Could Uncle Perry’s history of violence go further back than the first abortion doctor’s death? It would be logical if it did. People rarely turn into cold-blooded killers overnight. I shiver, then fix my gaze on the kids through Mariner’s window. Ruby is still chatting with Lori, Rufus still poring over his phone. They are safe. I need to cling to that. In a moment I will gather them up and take them to the police and pass on everything I know.

  ‘I didn’t get any sense of who your mum really meant, just that she’d given me Graham’s name to stop me asking any more questions. Why are you asking about Perry?’

  ‘Did Mum say anything else?’

  ‘No. I was going to ask the next time I saw her but before I did she . . . well, she . . . had passed away.’

  I meet Ayesha’s anxious gaze. ‘Why didn’t you tell me this before?’ A worm of resentful misery coils itself around my heart. Yet more secrets kept from me.

  ‘It wasn’t any of my business,’ Ayesha says. ‘Like I say, your mum was really drunk at the time and it wasn’t like she’d mentioned any specific incidents or threats. I did wonder after it came out that Perry found her . . . you know, when she fainted and fell down the cellar steps . . . I thought maybe he was covering up for Graham . . .’

  ‘You thought one of my uncles might have killed my mum and the other one covered it up and you didn’t say anything?’ I stare at her, appalled.

  ‘What could I say? It was just a stupid bit of drunken conversation. And like I keep telling you, I didn’t really believe at the time she was scared of Graham. But I never forgot how she’d said she was scared of someone; that bit seemed genuine.’ Ayesha fixes me with those fierce brown eyes of hers. ‘After what you told me earlier I thought you should know, in case it’s relevant now.’

  I stand in the wind and gaze inside Mariner’s again. Rufus and Ruby are still in their corner booth, doing exactly what they were doing when I peered through the window a few seconds ago. And yet somehow the whole world has shifted again. I feel dazed. I have no idea how this latest revelation fits into what I already know. I’m already reeling because my family are not who I thought they were – and now here is my best friend revealing suspicions about my uncle and a confidence about my mother that she has kept from me for years.

  ‘Are you all right?’ I’ve never heard Ayesha sound so uncertain. She moves closer and her scent fills the air: herby and musky.

  ‘No.’ I turn away. The air is cold on my face as I pace across to Mariner’s front door. Ayesha hurries after me. ‘I need to get the kids. We have to go to the police.’

  ‘What has happened?’ she asks. ‘Is there some threat to the children? I thought maybe it was that, that was why you wanted to come here and get them so urgently.’

  ‘Later.’ I hurry into the warmth of the ice cream parlour.

  Truth is, I can’t bring myself to talk to her: not about the threatening text I’ve just received nor about any of the discoveries that lie behind it. I can’t trust her. I can’t trust anyone, including myself. Not when my judgements about people have been so wrong. Even Ayesha has concealed things from me, and I thought we shared all the important stuff.

  Lori and Ruby are now chatting with the waitress; Rufus sits beside Lori, still staring glumly at his phone. I sit down next to Ruby, pulling her into a hug.

  ‘Thank God you’re all right,’ I sigh, breathing in deep lungfuls of her hair, burying my face.

  ‘Oof, Mum, get off.’ Ruby disentangles herself, cheeks pinking. She rolls her eyes at me in a highly Ayesha-like fashion.

  I reach across the table and grasp Rufus’s arm. He pulls it away.

  ‘We have to go,’ I say.

  Ruby’s face falls. ‘But we ordered milkshakes,’ she protests. ‘Lori plaited my hair, look.’ She turns her head to show me the thick, dark plait snaking onto her neck. Two hairgrips with little footballs on the end hold stray wisps of hair in place.

  I smile at Lori. ‘Looks great.’ Then turn back to Ruby. ‘We’ll take the milkshakes to go.’ I sit back. At least the children are okay. As soon as their drinks arrive we will all go to the police station together and I’ll get them to contact DS Smart for me. I’ll call Lucy once we’re on our way and tell her to meet us at the police station. She might not be prepared to talk to Dad and Jacqueline, but she won’t be able to refuse the police.

  Rufus mumbles something but I’m not listening.

  In some ways it will be good for Lucy to have to give a statement. She’s been under Dad’s wing too long. At some point I’ll have to tell her what Ayesha’s just told me about Mum being scared before she died. I should speak to Auntie Sheila about that too, find out if Mum said anything to her. Another horrific thought strikes me, my imagination in freefall. It was Uncle Perry who found Mum’s body, after her supposedly accidental trip down the cellar steps. But what if Mum had just discovered Perry was a murderer? What if she’d threatened to expose him? What if he’d murdered her – and made it look like an accident – in order to keep her quiet?

  I put my head in my hands. It’s too much. I can’t think about poor Mum and her death right now.

  ‘Mum? For God’s sake! Where are we going?’ Rufus’s shout shocks me out of my musings.

  ‘Don’t yell at me.’ I frown.

  Rufus glares at me. ‘Are we going home?’ he asks. ‘Because I want to go home.’ He flashes a venomous glance at Lori and Ayesha. ‘I’m fed up with being dragged about to people’s houses.’

  ‘I’m afraid we can’t go straight home,’ I say. I meet Ayesha’s gaze. How on earth am I going to explain a visit to the police to the children?

  ‘What?’ Rufus’s voice rises in fury. ‘Where the fuck are we going then?’

  Beside him, Lori gasps. Ruby shrinks back in her seat.

  ‘Rufus!’ I hiss. ‘Apologise! Right now.’

  The café is only a quarter full and every single person in here is now looking at my son, red-faced and gimlet-eyed. He suddenly reminds me of Dad during one of our many rows when I was a teenager.

  Ayesha raises her eyebrows. ‘Maybe I should take all the kids home with me?’

  ‘No fucking way!’ Rufus stands up, shoving the jug of tap water in front of him so hard half of it slops onto the table. He storms out of the café, slamming the door behind him.

  In an instant he’s out of sight.

  I jump up. ‘Ruby, stay with Ayesha and Lori.’ I turn to Ayesha. ‘Don’t let her go anywhere.’

  I run outside. It’s completely dark here now, only ten or so cars in the car park behind the café. No sign of Rufus. My heart thuds as I race round to the front of the building. I scan the street in both directions. I can’t see Rufus anyw
here.

  Panic erupts inside me. Has Perry’s hired killer seized him leaving the café?

  ‘Rufus!’ I yell. ‘Rufus!’

  I cross the road, heart pounding. Turn 360 degrees. Relief courses through me. He’s there, hunched over at the bus stop: skinny and gangly and unbearably vulnerable, his hoodie pulled low over his face.

  I race over. ‘Rufus?’

  He looks up. His dark eyes are still angry, but I can see the misery in them too.

  I hesitate. The revelation that Uncle Perry is a murderer will be devastating for the kids. Since Caspian died Rufus has spent a lot of time with my side of the family. What I’m about to tell the police will be hard on him . . . and only just over a year after he was destroyed by his father’s death.

  ‘Oh, Rufus.’ Tears well in my eyes. ‘I’m so sorry things are so difficult.’

  He stares at me, uncertain.

  ‘They’re difficult for me too,’ I say. ‘I miss Dad so much. I can only imagine you miss him too.’

  Rufus bites his lip.

  ‘Something very bad has happened,’ I say, choosing my words carefully. ‘I need to talk to the police. That’s where you and me and Ruby have to go now.’

  ‘What’s happened?’ he asks.

  ‘I can’t explain right now,’ I say. ‘I’m asking you to be really grown-up and come back into the café and we’ll get Ruby and we’ll go. And if it means spending more time with Lori and Ayesha, at their house or . . . or just with them while I have to do difficult stuff, then I’m asking you to help me. Can you do that?’

  He shrugs and gazes across the road.

  I want to say more, but I hold back, letting him work it through in his own time.

  The skies are dark, the air cold. I shiver. I rushed out so fast I left my coat behind. At least it’s not raining any more.

  Rufus turns to face me. Our eyes meet.

  ‘Okay?’ I ask.

  He nods. Then walks beside me back to the café.

  As we get closer I peer in through the window. I can just make out our booth. Ayesha’s back is to the glass, blocking my view of the seat opposite. I take a few more steps. There’s no sign of either Ruby or Lori. Feeling anxious again, I hurry inside, Rufus right behind. The warmth of the café steams up, enveloping us. I feel trapped, like I’m living a nightmare from which I can’t wake.