by M. A. Hunter
‘Yes, well, none of us can change the past, can we, John? If it’s money you’re after, you’re out of luck as it isn’t pay day until the weekend. I don’t even have enough to buy milk this week.’
His eyes flew open. ‘You want money? I can spare you a few quid if it would help?’ He rested the cigarette on the edge of the saucer, and reached into his pocket, rattling the change inside.
Bronwyn frowned at the stain the cigarette was leaving on her best china, but at least it wasn’t burning a hole in the carpet or leaving a scorch mark on the freshly polished coffee table.
He dropped the change on the table and began to sort it into pounds, silvers, and coppers.
‘That really isn’t necessary, John,’ she said, determined not to provide absolution by accepting a few dirty coins.
Hayley had already agreed to pick her up a few groceries when she went to Safeway later.
He continued to sort the coins, sliding all bar his bus fare over. ‘There you go. I’m sorry it isn’t more, but I don’t want little Emma going hungry.’
Bronwyn ignored the gesture, as she didn’t want to give him more time by getting into an argument with him.
He picked up his cigarette and took a long drag, blowing the smoke away from her, though there was little point as that only served to spread the disgusting smell further. ‘Where was I?’ He paused, trying to recall how far into his speech he’d got, before realising he’d barely started. ‘I need to tell you something, and I don’t know how to find the words. Now that I’m here with you, they just don’t want to flow. You know?’
She crossed her arms, taking another glance at the watch.
He looked her straight in the eye. ‘The thing is, Winnie, I found her. Our Anna, that is. I know who took her.’
Bronwyn narrowed her eyes, her mind trying to predict what his endgame was. Why had he shown up today if not to ask her for money? He’d claimed to know where Anna was when he was at the hospital, before clarifying that he knew a person who’d claimed to know. One of the inmates in his care, or so he’d claimed. She’d taken it all – as she always did – with a much-needed pinch of salt.
He stubbed out the cigarette and immediately lit a second. Bronwyn coughed, but it didn’t deter him.
‘What do you want, John?’ She sighed quietly under her breath.
‘I had this plan… to get her back, like, you know. I thought if I could get enough money together, I could pay off my debt, and then they’d have to let her go, but they refused, and so then I threatened to go to the police and just come clean about everything—’
‘What are you talking about, John? Coming clean about what?’
He looked at her, the tears already leaking out. ‘I can’t say, but there was some stuff… Stuff I did a long time ago, which I’m not proud of… But that’s why they took her… as insurance, like… I didn’t know that’s what they’d do… but I don’t want to make the same mistake again… That’s why I’m telling you all this.’
He buried his head in his hands.
Bronwyn sat forward in her chair. ‘All what, John? What are you saying? You’re saying that the people who have Anna took her because of you?
She could hear him sobbing as he nodded frantically.
Bronwyn leapt forward, crashing to the carpet on her knees and crawling over to him.
‘John, you need to tell me everything. I need to know where she is.’
He kept his eyes covered as he shook her heart. ‘It’s… no… use. They won’t let her go. Not now.’
‘I don’t understand, John. Who is holding Anna? I need to know.’
He rubbed at his eyes with his hands, until she reached for a tissue from her bag and passed it to him.
‘It doesn’t matter anymore,’ he said as the blotting didn’t ease the flow of tears. ‘We’re never going to be able to get her back.’
‘Rubbish!’ Bronwyn shouted, slapping him hard across the cheek to snap him out of his self-pity. ‘If she’s still alive, then that’s the best news I’ve ever heard. We’ll phone the police and let them know, and then they’ll go and get her.’
‘No, Winnie, you don’t understand,’ he said, shaking his head again. ‘They’ll have moved her by now. It’s what they do.’
‘It’s what who does, John? Who are these people? How do you know people who would abduct an innocent child?’
His eyes met hers, but he still couldn’t find the strength to tell her everything. He’d written it down so he could get the confession straight before memorising the bitter words. But now that he was faced with the moment to clear his conscience, his brain wouldn’t let him.
She stood and crossed the room, picking up the telephone and listening for a dialling tone.
‘What are you doing?’ he said, standing and blocking her way. ‘Who are you phoning?’
‘The police. If you won’t tell me whatever it is you know, then maybe they’ll have a better method of extracting—’
He snatched the phone from her hand and it killed the words on her tongue.
‘You’re not listening to me, Winnie. We can’t phone the police. They’ll find out, and then they’ll come for little Emma.’
Bronwyn shivered as her blood ran cold. ‘What did you just say?’
‘They said if we go to the police they’ll come for Emma as well.’
She slapped him again, this time with much more force, but he didn’t move.
‘What the hell have you done, John?’
‘None of that matters. All you need to know is that I’m going to do whatever I can to fix all this. I have a plan. Okay?’
‘No, it’s not okay!’ she erupted, but he grabbed at her arms and held them firm.
‘I’m sorry, Winnie, but this is the way it has to be now. We don’t have a choice.’
‘The hell we haven’t! Start talking, John, or I swear to God I will phone the police. What are you mixed up in? Why did people take our daughter, and who the hell is threatening Emma? We need to phone the police.’
He squeezed her arms tighter, as the stress worsened. She wasn’t listening to him, but he had no doubt they would fulfil their threat if he didn’t get her on side.
‘Damnit, Winnie, you’re not listening to me,’ he shouted. ‘These people… they’re serious fucking people! They have moles everywhere, and the moment they learn that we’ve contacted the police, we’ll have signed Emma’s death sentence.’
She tried to pull her arms free, but he continued to press tighter, leaving white marks on her arms. Pulling him closer, she drove her knee into his groin and he instantly released his grip, turning and hunching over to protect himself from a second attack.
Bronwyn hurried across the room, putting the sofa between them to buy her enough time in case he reached for her again.
He grabbed the edge of the sofa, using it to support his bulk as he composed himself and muttered, ‘I’m sorry,’ over and over.
‘Don’t be sorry, John, just bloody fix this. If it’s your fault Anna was taken, then tell me why this had to happen.’
Stooped over, he met her gaze, but still the words wouldn’t come. ‘I’m sorry, Winnie. If I could go back and fix things I would. All I can do is make sure they don’t come for Emma too. I have a plan, and I will make them listen if it’s the last thing I do.’
She couldn’t concentrate on any one question as her mind flooded with dozens at the same time. John continued sucking in deep breaths and finally straightened before returning the phone to its cradle. He looked at his ex-wife and knew instantly that she would phone the police the moment he left, unless he convinced her why moving on was their only choice. The best they could hope for was keeping hold of the daughter they still had. It was time to get everything off his chest, even though he could already foresee how much pain it would bring her.
‘Sit down, Winnie, and I’ll tell you everything. You deserve to know what happened. I won’t let those bastards take Emma, no matter the cost. One way or another, it’ll b
e sorted by tomorrow.’
Chapter Forty-Nine
Now
Wareham, Dorset
‘I know that case,’ I say to Anna, moving closer and recognising the rust around the hinges on the lid. ‘Dad made me fetch this for him back in the day. He said it contained something important, and I wasn’t allowed to mention it to Mum.’
I turn and look at Ken, but something has either caught his attention outside the window or he’s deliberately choosing not to look at me.
‘What was in it?’ Anna asks, lifting it out of the shoebox and slowly turning it over in her hands.
‘I never looked,’ I tell her, instantly fearing the contents but with no idea why.
‘It’s not very heavy,’ Anna says, shaking the box. The same rattle I heard all those years ago echoes around the room.
‘It’s locked,’ I tell her. ‘Is there a key in the box?’
She lifts the shoebox and tips it upside down but nothing falls out. ‘What do you think it is?’
I can picture Dad’s face when he first told me about the box and how he took me for a special lunch after I’d retrieved it and brought it to him in Swanage. I also recall how we returned to the bedsit to find it had been burgled, and how someone had then thrown a brick through his window. Whatever it contained, it had brought heat to his door, and now I fear just what damage it will do here today.
‘It’s probably nothing,’ I say to Anna, hoping it will be enough for her to put it away so we can move on. I don’t know why, but I feel like opening the box will only bring more pain and heartache, and God knows we’ve had enough of that already.
But Anna is rattling the box again, and now her eyes are studying the lock. For the briefest second we’re twenty-one years younger and in the yard and she’s refusing to listen to me because I’m just her little sister and how could I possibly know more than her.
I reach out to take the case from her when she places it on its edge on the floor. I’m about to ask what she’s doing when she drives her trainer hard onto the rusting hinge, and the case cracks open. She collects the mangled box and smiles proudly at me.
‘Never found a lock I can’t get into.’
Lifting the lid, her excitement drops to disappointment as she sees the cause of the rattling. Extracting the small VHS-C cassette. It seems so old fashioned now, but this is the sort of tape that would have been used in a handheld camcorder, back before everything went digital. I don’t remember Mum and Dad ever owning such a camcorder, but then it could have been before I was old enough to remember.
‘A tape?’ Anna questions, turning it over in her fingers, as if just staring at it might reveal the reason it has been so carefully hidden for all these years. The green case is now back in the shoebox, an unwanted trophy.
I look over to Ken again, who is still choosing to show us his back, but if this case has remained locked and hidden for all these years, there’s no way he could know what’s on it. Is there?
Anna puts the tape on the table, now more interested in the diaries and mementos from the second box. It’s the right thing to do: ignore the tape. Yet I can’t take my eyes off it. It’s like I’m no longer in control of my own thought processes. Even though every sinew in my body is telling me to walk away and never watch the tape, I find myself reaching for it, and then carrying it over to Ken.
‘I don’t suppose you have anything we could watch this on, do you?’
His head dips slightly and he sighs audibly. ‘I was afraid you were going to ask that.’
‘Why?’
‘Your mum liked to keep herself to herself, but I always got the impression that there was something about that tape… Like it was the key to something she couldn’t live with. I always assumed it had something to do with your dad. She never did believe he committed suicide.’
The cassette suddenly feels unbearably heavy in my hand. ‘What’s on it?’
‘I’ve never watched it.’
‘That isn’t what I asked, Mr Bruce.’
He doesn’t elaborate. Instead, he crosses the room and disappears again into the room at the back.
‘Could one of you give me a hand with this?’ he calls a moment later, and Anna heads after him, returning a moment later carrying a hefty television-video combi unit, not dissimilar to one some of my friends had when we were growing up.
It looks ridiculously bulky compared to modern televisions, and as Anna lowers it to the table, I can see it’s covered in a thick layer of grey dust. Ken waddles in a moment later carrying what looks like a VHS tape, but he slides a switch and a small window opens.
‘Now,’ he says, pausing to regain his breath. ‘Are you sure you two want to watch this?’
‘Why wouldn’t we? I thought you didn’t know what was on it?’ Anna asks, stepping forward, and instantly looking far more menacing than I ever could.
It’s another example of just how much we’ve grown apart, and yet our endgame is still the same. I do my best to make myself look as intimidating as Anna, and Ken picks up the small cassette and inserts it in the larger version before handing it to me. He fishes for the plug and then hands it to Anna.
‘There’s a socket in the wall beneath the table. Would you mind plugging it in?’
Anna takes the plug and crawls under, and a moment later a small red LED of warning appears on the front of the television.
‘I’ve no idea where the remote is,’ Ken says, ‘but if you push the tape in it should turn itself on and play automatically. I’m going to need a drink.’
He heads out of the room without offering refreshment to either of us, but I follow his instructions and slot the cassette into the player. There is temporary black, grey, and white static, and a gentle humming, before the tape engages. I cover my mouth as I see our dad appear on the screen. He’s sitting in what looks like one of the old wooden dining table chairs we had in Portland. And as I allow my eyes to blur him out, I’d swear he’s in the kitchen of that same house.
My eyes fill instantly and my chest constricts as I hear his voice for the first time in almost twenty years.
‘My name is John William Hunter, and I am making this recording of my own volition.’ He pauses, and lifts a tumbler of what I would guess is scotch, and sips from it.
‘I remember that voice,’ Anna whispers beside me, and I instinctively put my arm around her, remembering it’s been even longer for her.
Dad lowers the glass but he keeps his fingers wrapped tightly around it. ‘I am neither proud of my actions, nor seeking forgiveness for what I have done. God will judge me soon enough.’
My hand shoots out and a finger stabs at the faded pause button which is just below where the tape was inserted.
‘What are you doing?’ Anna asks.
I open my mouth to respond but I’m not sure how best to word it. ‘My instincts are rarely wrong about certain things,’ I begin. ‘And every one of them right now is telling me that Dad kept this tape hidden for a very good reason. I have no idea how it fell into Mum’s possession, but she too kept it hidden. Maybe there’s a reason they didn’t want us to see it.’
Anna snorts and her eyes water. ‘It’s funny, you calling them Mum and Dad. That’s not how I see them; not anymore. I know that man on the screen was a part of my life, and if you say he’s my dad, I have no reason to doubt what you’re saying, but I don’t remember having a mum or a dad. My first memory is of a man I didn’t know trapping me inside the back of his car. I remember being taken to a caravan on some farm somewhere, and my life being threatened. I remember men taking photographs of me, and calling me darling and sweetheart, and then I remember other men pushing their tongues into my mouth, and forcing my head down between their legs. What I don’t know is why I had to endure all of that. The life I once had is long gone, but if this man on the screen wants his confession to be heard, then I say we should listen.’
My lips tremble, and I feel the warm splashes on my cheeks. The torture she has just described… I wouldn’t
wish it on my worst enemy, let alone my own sister. But what upsets me most is the thought that there is nothing I can say or do to ever come close to easing her pain.
I press the play button, honouring her wishes.
Chapter Fifty
Now
Wareham, Dorset
‘Many years ago,’ Dad’s voice sounds again, as I do my best to hide my own upset, ‘before all of this, before I fell in love and was blessed with two wonderful daughters, I agreed to work for a man who promised me wealth beyond my wildest imagination. He told me he was a movie director, and he needed someone with a steady hand to work the camera for him. I was stupid – naïve maybe – but I idolised this man, and when he took me to his movie set, I closed my eyes to what was going on in front of the camera.’ He takes another sip of the scotch. ‘I knew it was wrong. I knew that although the actors weren’t screaming or crying… ultimately they were children, and they shouldn’t have been doing the things that were asked of them.
‘Eventually, I came to my senses, and I packed it all in… moved away and started my life over, but I never forgot. I fell in love and got married, and it felt like I’d been given a second chance; a new shot at life. A better life. I took a job in the prison service so I could give something back, and help keep the public safe. I worked hard. I tried to make amends, and I swore I would do whatever I could to make others’ lives better every day. To make my family proud of me.’
He drains the rest of the scotch from his glass, and even through the grain of the low-resolution video, I can see how deathly pale he looks.
‘But I should have known that something like that would come back to get at me. You can’t see what I’ve seen and hope to get your hands clean. Two years ago, a prisoner was transferred to Portland. A seedy good-for-nothing, always trying to get one over on others. He recognised me from that time, and he tried to blackmail me. I tried to pay him off. I gambled but lost more than I won, so then I borrowed more to give to him. And then it was like my prayers had been answered. He crossed the wrong convict and got shanked in one of the bathrooms. But only after he’d revealed his grubby little secret to his cellmate – someone who was not so easily bought off. He wanted more than I could pay, threatening to reveal the truth about me unless I did as he said. He said he wanted me to prove my loyalty, and that to do that I’d have to help some of his crew pull off a heist.’