by Owen Mullen
When Mackenzie went to the kitchen for a glass of water Derek said, ‘You’ve no idea how difficult it is. She’s absolutely obsessed with that bloody house. Never stops talking about it.’
Monica wasn’t surprised by that. ‘Understandable, given what she’s been through.’
Derek was on the point of adding something when Mackenzie came back.
Gavin smiled at his sister. ‘Just asking if the doctor’s pleased with your progress?’
She looked at her husband. He replied, speaking as if she wasn’t in the room. ‘Very happy. We’re on course to make a complete recovery. Whenever she’s well enough we’re going away for a long holiday, just the two of us. Palm trees and coconuts.’
At one point during the hour with the Crawfords, Alice woke up and cried out. No louder than normal. Mackenzie’s reaction was troubling. She froze. Derek moved to the arm of the chair and gently rubbed her hand, keeping the conversation going while Monica attended to Alice.
Something and nothing.
But in the car going home with the baby asleep in her cot in the backseat, Monica said out loud what her husband was already thinking. ‘She isn’t right, Gavin. You can see that, can’t you?’
He wasn’t ready to admit it was true. ‘It’s early days. It’ll take time.’
‘Of course it will. That isn’t what I mean.’
Monica’s concern went deeper. She wondered if her sister-in-law would ever get over it. It was the stuff of nightmares and it had come too close to home. She’d found herself on several occasions imagining how she’d cope if it happened to her and never got very far.
It was too terrifying to contemplate.
Gavin closed his office door and put the phone to his ear. Mackenzie’s voice was an urgent whisper, as though she was afraid of being overheard. Not possible. For a month after she came out of hospital, Derek spent every day and night with her, telling anyone who would listen that the business could go to hell. Eventually, he’d gone back to work. Mackenzie would be alone. It didn’t sound like it.
‘I want you to take me to the house. I need to see the house.’
This was wild. ‘Mackenzie, hold on. What’re you talking about?’
She repeated what she’d said. ‘Take me to the house, Gavin. Today.’
Derek’s warning about her obsession came to him and he spoke gently. ‘I don’t think that’s a good idea, sis.’
She wasn’t listening. ‘I have to see it.’
‘Why? What good will it do?’
Mackenzie didn’t explain; she pleaded with him. ‘I have to. I have to go.’ And Gavin knew Monica’s fears were justified. His sister was nowhere near right.
‘It’ll only stir things up. Put it behind you. Melia’s dead, he’s dead, he can’t hurt you again. It’s over.’
‘Over?’ At the other end of the phone the laughter was harsh. ‘You really believe it’s over? For you, maybe. Not for me. It’ll never be over for me. Take me to the house, Gavin. Please. Now. Right now. Come and get me.’
‘But Derek – ’
She cut him off. ‘Derek thinks he can solve this the way he solves everything. But they’re my demons. I’m the one who has to face them or it can never be over.’
The excuse was genuine – his diary was rammed. ‘I can’t. I’ve had too much time off already. We’ve got a helluva lot on. The business needs me.’
‘I need you.’
She went quiet, the silence more disturbing than her frantic request. Her brother thought she’d hung up. ‘Mackenzie? Mackenzie, are you there?’
‘You ask why. I’ll tell you why.’
His sister started to speak. Words he’d never wanted to hear, pictures he couldn’t even think about. Gavin covered his ears but it was too late. Her voice was cold; detached. Like a narrator reading an extract from a horror story. She didn’t spare him and when it ended, he was shaking.
‘Shall I go on? Do you want to hear the rest of it? The worst of it? Would you understand then?’
she isn’t right, Gavin
you can see that, can’t you?
‘Stay where you are. I’m on my way.’
* * *
They left Glasgow and drove south. Above them the sky was overcast, the default position for Scotland these days. For almost forty miles they didn’t speak and Gavin was glad because he’d no idea what to say. Across from him in the passenger seat Mackenzie stared out the window, quietly humming a monotonous tune that reminded him of something. At Abington, the landscape morphed before them as they climbed into the Lowther Hills and the dissonant music faded until all that was left was the purr of the engine.
The last time he’d been here seemed like years ago. Leadhills village was as it had been. Yet there was peace here, of a kind.
They travelled on.
As they got nearer, Mackenzie sat bolt upright, one hand pressed against the dashboard in front of her, gripped by a fear too unspeakable to name. Except she had named it. Most of it. Her brother made one last attempt to dissuade her from revisiting the old house. ‘Let’s not do this. It won’t change anything.’
She didn’t reply. Whatever her shortcomings, Mackenzie had never lacked courage. Being prepared to put herself through this, to relive the ordeal, may not be wise. But it sure as hell was brave.
He drew up outside the derelict building and pulled on the handbrake. Mackenzie braced herself and started to get out.
‘I’ll come with you.’
She kept her face turned away. ‘No. No. I have to do this myself.’
Attached to the door handle, a blue and white fragment of police tape marking the crime scene fluttered in the wind. He watched her walk towards it and go inside, wanting to run after her, to hold her and tell her it was all right. Her duty, her only duty, to herself and her family, was to get well and come back to them. Instead he stayed where he was and prayed he hadn’t made a mistake in bringing her here.
Mackenzie’s legs were so heavy she could barely get them to obey. She had to force her feet to move, each step taking her closer. Her heel split a tile blown from the roof. It cracked like a gunshot in the quiet. Above her, the granite house towered against the grey clouds, the hole in the roof a giant wound, and for a moment her resolve failed. She stumbled and almost fell. From the car, Gavin saw her wrestle against an invisible power, regain her balance and continue.
At the end of the corridor, at the top of the steps, she hesitated, her brother’s words loud in her ears, urging her not to do this.
it’s over
It wasn’t a choice. She refused to spend the rest of her life tied to him. Mackenzie ignored the feeling of panic rising in her, flicked on the light tied to the handrail, and went down.
Everything was as it had been. The basement was small, much smaller than she remembered, the distance from the bed to the steps just yards. Not how it had seemed crawling towards it in the dark. She ran her fingers over the bed. The chain was missing, taken, she assumed, by the police to be used in evidence against a man who would never have to answer for his cruelty, a terrifying shadow that appeared in her nightmares and invaded every waking hour.
he’s dead
he can’t hurt you again
Not true. He had hurt her. He hurt her still.
The chair where he’d watched was just a chair. And the rats made no sound. But they were there, hiding behind the walls, and when night came they’d be back.
scratch scratch, scratch scratch
Mackenzie tidied the wrappers and cartons into a corner then dragged the sheets from the bed and remade it, tucking the edges under and pulling the grubby covers tight the way she’d seen the nurses in the hospital do then sat in the middle, hugging herself as if she was trying to stop the world from getting in, slowly rocking backwards and forwards, singing softly.
‘Ring a ring o’ roses,
a pocket full of posies;
atishoo, atishoo.
We all fall down.’
Standing outside the
open door, Gavin heard and worried again that bringing her back to this place had been the wrong thing to do.
Eventually she came back to the car, moving like a sleepwalker over the rough ground. He jumped out and draped his jacket round her shoulders like he’d done before. Her skin was ice cold, her lips bloodless. The house seemed to have sucked the energy from her body in a final act of malice.
* * *
On the journey to Glasgow, Mackenzie stared through the windscreen. They were approaching Hamilton when Gavin found the courage to ask how she was.
‘You all right, sis? You okay?’
She replied in a tiny voice with questions he couldn’t begin to answer, tears in her eyes. ‘Why would he come after me? What had I done to him?’
He reached over and took her hand. ‘The police say the motive was revenge. It wasn’t about you. Melia used you to get to Derek. Blaming yourself is wrong.’
She shook her head. ‘No, that’s not it. It was about me. I saw it in his eyes.’
‘Look, you have to put this behind you. I’ll do anything I can to help.’
A strand of hair fell across her face and was absently brushed away.
She turned to him. ‘Anything?
‘Anything.’
‘Then burn that place to the ground.’
Day Fifty-Seven
Adele was a woman with an inner strength her brother had often envied. It wasn’t enough. Gavin had watched her go down for weeks. She looked exhausted, defeated even, and seemed to have aged. Not bothering with makeup didn’t help. Neither did the navy-blue cardigan she was wearing, fit only for the bin. Two months since the abduction and still she hadn’t come to terms with her guilt over Mackenzie.
Adele and Blair had tried to work it out. It only lasted weeks before he left for good. The split couldn’t have come at a worse time. He’d always been more than her husband; he’d been her best friend. Adele hadn’t appreciated how much she relied on him until he wasn’t there. Without him the world didn’t make sense.
Gavin kissed her forehead and guided Monica and Alice inside. On the night of the birthday party, when his sister had proudly given them a tour, it had been a show house. Not anymore. Clothes were scattered on every chair. Adele saw the surprise on their faces and made a half-hearted apology. ‘Sorry about the state of the place. Keep meaning to get round to tidying up. Can’t find the energy.’
This was so unlike his sister. Gavin drew her aside. ‘You okay?’
Her answer was candid. ‘As a matter of fact, no, I’m not.’
‘What’s wrong?’
‘What isn’t wrong? Since Blair left the boys are a nightmare. Adam more than Richard. He was the quiet one. Now he’s surly and aggressive. I hardly recognise him.’
‘They need time to adjust. Besides, he’s a teenager.’
‘It’s worse than that. The school’s given him a final warning.’
‘Why? What’s he done?’
‘Got caught cheating in an exam. Before that he beat a pupil up.’
‘Doesn’t sound like Adam.’
‘One more “incident” and he’ll be expelled. And he hates Blair. Hates him. If I even say his name he goes out of the room. I’ve explained things sometimes don’t work out with adults. Talking to myself. He won’t forgive him for what he’s done to us.’
‘Kids are tougher than we think, he’ll get over it.’
‘That’s just it. I don’t know that he will. At least not before he’s screwed up his future.’
‘Is Richard the same?’
‘Coping better than his brother which isn’t saying much. Stays in his room most of the time. Won’t discuss it. You can see he just misses his dad.’
‘Want me to speak to them?’
Adele shrugged. ‘Would you?’
‘Where are they?’
She pointed at the ceiling. ‘Where they always are.’
Gavin climbed the stairs, knocked on the door and went in. Adam was on the carpet, his back against the bed, playing with his X-Box. He didn’t notice his uncle until he was in front of him. ‘Am I interrupting?’
The boy looked at him blankly.
‘Where’s Richard?’
‘In his room, I suppose.’
‘Get him, will you? It’s important.’
Talking to teenagers was a waste of time, but for Adele’s sake he had to give it a shot. When he had them together he closed the door.
‘Cards on the table. Tell me how you’re doing.’
He’d known the boys all their lives. Suddenly the years watching them growing up meant nothing, he’d become the enemy. Adam answered. ‘We’re all right.’
‘Pleased to hear it. Really pleased. Because your mum. In fact, I’m worried about whether she’ll ever be all right again.’
The boys didn’t react.
‘Look, when I was your age I didn’t realise adults were just people. And people make mistakes. Sometimes they do it wrong.’
Adam said, ‘If you’re talking about him, he’s a waster, and she’s an idiot for putting up with it.’
‘Him is your father. And sure he’s wrong. Made a complete mess of it. Nobody knows that better than he does. But give him a chance to make it right. And she – your mum – an idiot? No, just a woman, a wife and mother, desperately trying to hold her family together. On top of that she’s got your Aunt Mackenzie to worry about. So, believe me, your mum’s a lot more hurt than you are. She’s sad and she’s scared and she’s angry. And she needs her boys to help her get through it.’
Gavin walked to the bedroom door. ‘Her heart’s been broken once. She doesn’t deserve to have it broken again. Time to man-up, guys.’
Downstairs Derek still hadn’t arrived. Adele was in the kitchen. Monica said, ‘How did it go?’
He made a face. ‘Who knows? All you can do is try.’
‘They could come to us once a week. Give Adele a break.’
‘They’ll see that as a prison sentence.’
‘Okay. Once or twice a month, then. Get to know Alice. Be good for everybody.’
Gavin put his arms round her waist. ‘I’m lucky to have you.’
‘At last, you’re starting to notice.’
He kissed her cheek. ‘I never stopped noticing.’
‘What does Derek want to talk about?’
The doorbell rang and Gavin said, ‘We’ll soon find out, he’s here.’
At the last family gathering Derek Crawford had accused Blair Gardiner and they’d ended up fighting. There would be no repeat. Blair wasn’t part of the family anymore.
It was rare to see him casually dressed, usually he wore a suit. Tonight he hadn’t bothered with a jacket and his white shirt was open at the neck. The casualness didn’t extend to his expression. He said, ‘Sorry I’m late,’ and came into the lounge. Adele had made an effort and put on makeup. She forced a smile and passed a cup of coffee to her brother-in-law, wondering like the others what this was about.
On the couch, Monica squeezed Gavin’s hand, her question about to be answered. Derek cleared his throat. ‘I asked to meet this evening to bring you up-to-date on Mackenzie so we’re all on the same page.’
To Gavin it sounded as if he was running a team meeting.
‘Dr Chilolo was sure that physically there’s little standing in the way of her making a complete recovery. He was right. Every day, Mackenzie is getting stronger. Mentally, if anything, she’s worse.’
He took a sip from his cup. ‘You love her as much as I do, which makes what I have to say harder. But I don’t have a choice.’
Gavin guessed what was coming and he was right. Derek looked straight at him and said, ‘What you did – however well-intentioned – was a bad idea.’
‘She asked me to take her.’
Derek nodded. ‘You don’t have to convince me, I’m sure she did. But you have to appreciate – we all have to appreciate – there’s a big difference between what Mackenzie wants and what Mackenzie needs.’
Adele
was next on his list. ‘Asking how she’s doing, talking to her about therapy, upsets her.’ He held up his hand. ‘I know. She appears to be okay. Enthusiastic even. If only you could hear what she tells me. It gets so bad she’s afraid to go to sleep. When she eventually does it’s never for more than an hour or two. Then she wakes up screaming, convinced she can hear rats behind the walls. It’s heartbreaking.’
He looked at each of them in turn. ‘We all have our own thoughts about what happened two months ago. I certainly do. I’ve done my best but she isn’t getting better.’
‘I don’t understand. I saw her on Friday. She told me she was feeling fine.’
Derek shook his head. ‘That’s the thing. The Mackenzie you see is different from the one I live with. Very different.’
Adele tried to be positive. ‘I’m sorry, Derek, I still don’t understand. She even talked about her plans to open a shelter for women who’ve been abused.’
He raised an eyebrow. This was the first he’d heard of it.
‘She feels strongly about getting them out of harm’s way. I think it’s a wonderful idea. I told her I’d help.’
Derek lost his temper. ‘You don’t get it. She’s worse. A lot worse. What that bastard did to her… do you really believe reliving the nightmare every day for the rest of her life is going to help? Mackenzie needs to forget it. Move on.’
Monica spoke calmly. ‘I hear what you’re saying Derek but I agree with Adele. It’s a great idea. Working with other people, helping them, would be the best therapy she could get. Maybe you’re being over-protective.’
He let out an exasperated sigh. ‘She won’t consider proper therapy. Flatly refuses. And without a professional in charge the kind of things you’re doing and saying could even be dangerous. As for being over-protective, maybe I am. But remember, I nearly lost her.’