I heard what Killian did to your cat. It must have been upsetting for you? And if I can tell you a secret, I am jealous that another man could instill fear in you. I had hoped that would be for me to do, and me alone.
Now I’ve told you a secret, will you tell me yours? Because I know you have one, Claire, but then, we all have our secrets, don’t we? The things that are set apart from others. Things we keep quiet, things that we hope no one will ever notice. Even you do, Claire, the woman the whole world knows, still has something hiding in her shadows. But I can see in the dark, and I know what you hide there. Claire, I’ve known for a very long time.
One day we will talk face to face about the secrets we carry.
Until then, I am never far away. Closer than you think…
Chapter 44
2nd October 2018
St Ives, Cambridgeshire
I’ve only passed out a handful of times I can remember, and two of them had been within the last month. Before I hit the floor, Geoff caught me and guided me to the sofa where I lay, looking at the ceiling and feeling confused. Slowly, I brought myself up to a sitting position and Mum, who was sat beside me, pulled me into her. She smiled at me and I burst into tears, the second time within twelve hours. Last night I cried because of relief, release, closure. I sobbed now because I was living in a nightmare once more. Twelve hours, what a difference it can make. Eventually I calmed down enough to ask for a cup of tea and springing up, Mum nipped into the kitchen. Geoff slipped into her space on the sofa as she left, and I felt him put his arm around my shoulders.
‘You OK, kiddo?’
‘How long was I out for?’
‘Not even a second. By the time I caught you, you were coming around again.’
‘It felt like I was out for ages.’
‘That’s shock. How are you feeling?’
‘I don’t know,’ I replied, struggling to piece together what was happening. First it was a copycat, then that copycat was Killian, but now it wasn’t him at all, nor was it Tommy Kay, but someone else, someone who had never been caught.
‘Is it really him? I mean, is it really the same man who did…’
‘That’s what they say.’
‘Shit.’
Dropping my head onto his shoulder, I sighed heavily, and he rubbed my back.
‘Now we know this, love, what will you do with it?’
‘What do you mean?’
‘I mean, we have to leave here. Your house is obviously on the news, ours is too close. You need to go to Paul’s. He knows exactly what’s going on, and his work are doing what they can to help.’
‘That’s good.’
He repeated his strange question. ‘But what are you going to do with it?’
‘Geoff, I don’t understand.’
‘I’ve known you a long time, and in that time I’ve seen three versions of you. The first is the one before Owen died, the runner, the friend, the kid who didn’t have a care in the world. The second is the girl who hid, scared to leave the house, scared to be seen, terrified because everyone became a killer in her eyes. The third, she evolved from the second, she’s a woman who fights to do what she can to get by.’
‘How do you know all this?’
‘I know you, Claire, it’s my job. I may not be your biological father, but that doesn’t stop me being your dad.’
Geoff kissed me on the head and I closed my eyes – it was enough to keep the icy hand at bay for a moment.
‘Claire, I guess what I’m saying is… which of these people are you going to be?’
‘I don’t know.’
‘Because you can’t go back to being the first. That person is gone.’
‘So, it’s either be the second, or the third.’
‘And you can only pick one, kiddo,’ he said as he heaved himself from the sofa. ‘I’d better start on your suitcase, anything you want me to pack?’
‘I can do it.’
‘You stay with your mum, have a tea.’
‘Thanks, Geoff, for everything.’
‘You don’t need to thank me. I love you, kiddo.’
Geoff didn’t say he loved me often, in fact, the last time I can remember I was still in a hospital in Ireland. And that scared me and moved me in equal measure. Watching him head up the stairs slowly I almost called out. I almost told him something I had not been able to tell anyone, something about Owen. But the guilt of even considering saying it out loud crushed my voice before a sound could shape. Once he was out of sight, I thought about what he’d said. I could only be one version of me, and now I needed to choose.
Mum came back in with two teas and sat beside me once more. As she handed me my cup, I smelt the sugar. I usually have one but as I tasted it, it was sweeter than usual.
‘I was sure it was Killian, Mum.’
‘We all were.’
‘What will happen to him now?’
‘They’ve already released him.’
‘But what about Baloo? The pictures he had? The letter?’
‘They’ve assured us they’re keeping an eye on him. He’s not allowed within two hundred feet of this house, my house or Paul’s. As for what he did to our cat… it’ll go back to the courts. But for now, he goes home.’
‘But how can they enforce the two hundred feet rule, what if…’ I stopped myself. Geoff’s speech about the versions of me echoed in my head. If I finished the sentence, I would become the second by default. I still might. I wasn’t sure which way I would eventually go, but stopping myself meant in that moment, I had a choice.
Besides, Killian was the least of my worries. If he was alive, if they’d never caught him, if the Black-Out Killer was never Tommy Kay, I had much bigger things to worry about.
Chapter 45
2nd October 2018
Ely, Cambridgeshire
Geoff came downstairs with my case full of things, just five days after I had emptied it from my long stay at Paul’s. Once we were ready, Geoff insisted we moved quickly, and said nothing. Mum and I were happy to agree. Throwing a coat over my head he and Mum led me to their car. The press pushed against us, tried to force a camera under the jacket to take a picture. They shouted questions at us and as we moved, I heard some of them. They asked how I was feeling about the Black-Out Killer being alive, if I felt remorseful for calling Killian a murderer. I didn’t respond and as I climbed into the back, I tried not to answer them in my head.
The drive to Paul’s took the best part of an hour as traffic seemed to be at a standstill everywhere in and out of St Ives. The journey was distinguished by an absolute silence as Mum, Geoff and I tried to independently process what had happened and what we had learnt. Geoff finally broke the silence by letting us know there was an unmarked police car behind us; Mum turned, I didn’t.
As we pulled into the familiar road that led to Paul’s, I was expecting to see press waiting, but they weren’t. For now. It meant that we could slip into his house with the key he had given me when I was last here. As I stepped inside, I saw the unmarked car Geoff had spoken of, the officer in the passenger seat looking at me as they passed. He offered a weak smile, one I didn’t return. I watched as they drove further down the road and parked, just before I closed the door.
Dumping my suitcase in the living room, I said I was going for a shower. Mum started to follow, as she always did, but I stopped her.
‘I’m fine, Mum. I won’t be long.’
As I headed towards the stairs and as I placed my foot on the first, I looked back at Geoff who nodded, smiling at me. He knew I had chosen to be the third version, for now at least.
Running the shower, I fought to keep myself calm. I reminded myself that I was safe, Mum and Geoff were here, the police were outside, and it was daylight. Besides, there was also a strong chance he wouldn’t know where I was, anyway. I took my clothes off, opened the music app on my phone and pressed shuffle, and let the steam billow over the top of the shower screen before I stepped in. The hot water soothed my neck musc
les and relieved the headache I didn’t know I had.
Just when I was finally beginning to relax, I heard that song… our song. I was mesmerised by it, traumatised perhaps. The icy hand inside woke from its brief slumber and I could feel it tremor with excitement as it conducted across the base of my lungs. The rumble of drums built, its crescendo complete with a crash of a cymbal. A few more chords over the shower. The piano treble trilled, and continued to build and build…
Owen had loved The Who, and this song was one of his favourites. Hearing the song, letting it play, took me back to a moment from that night I hadn’t recalled before. Prior to the power cut, Owen and I had been drinking, I knew that much, but I had lost the memory of us as we danced in the lounge to this song which played in a loop, over and over with Owen singing along out of tune. I let myself go back to that moment as the shower washed over my head. We danced and we laughed and spun and kissed. It was so hard to recall it, but I made myself. I wanted to, for once, be back there with my husband. And as I let myself succumb to the past, new things came into my mind. I remembered, for the first time, that Owen had told me he loved me that night. It wasn’t often he said it so it was a special moment. He led me to the couch, and sat beside me, pushing my long hair out of my eyes before kissing me with the same intensity, the same lust as when we’d first met. We stripped down to our underwear and made love on the sofa. We made love like our lives depended on it. Although, perhaps it just felt that way now, because of what happened.
Then it was dark; the music had stopped, but I could still hear it on a loop in my head, and I couldn’t see Owen anymore. I knew I should stop recalling it, I knew what was coming next, but I couldn’t. I was lost in the memory of it, I was back there on that night.
I tried to call out for him, the sound that came from my mouth unrecognisable. Like an animal dying. I started to stand but I couldn’t, my body wouldn’t respond as I wanted it to. Instead, I slipped off the sofa onto the floor, my face pressed into the rug. I saw feet, at first, I thought there were several pairs, but then realised there weren’t, I was just seeing multiple of the same pair. I tried to call for Owen again, and again, my words were unformed. Then I was being dragged by my hair. I could hear it tearing from my scalp. It should have hurt, but it didn’t.
I was dragged into the bathroom, the song still looping in my head. I saw several arms, no, one arm, Owen’s arm, hanging out of the tub, lifeless and thin. The last image of my husband I had. Then there was a man looming over me, a face I couldn’t see a wide-open bloodied mouth, a dark cavern. Trying to swallow me whole…
‘Claire?’
Hearing Mum call snapped me away from my thoughts, and I realised The Who song had finished.
‘I’m OK, Mum.’
‘OK, love.’
I listened as Mum made her way downstairs and I quickly washed my hair and body, fighting to stop myself reminiscing. I stepped out of the shower, stopped the music and dried my hair in silence, trying to force The Who song out of my head. But it had burrowed back in, made its nest. It would be there for a while.
Wiping the steam from the bathroom mirror with my hand, I saw myself, my short hair wet and limp, my eyes heavy and full of worry. I took a deep breath and told myself that I couldn’t change the past, nor the present – the fact that the Black-Out Killer, the real killer, was back. But I could control how I dealt with it. I needed to be braver than ever; I needed to be able to go into my garden, to leave a window open. I needed to buy milk and bread when I ran out. I needed to control the icy hand.
Going into Paul’s bedroom, I saw Mum had opened the suitcase on his bed and had removed a pair of leggings and a top for me to wear. I dressed before heading back downstairs to join Mum and Geoff. I knew I was safe, and that the Black-Out Killer wouldn’t know where I was. No matter how many times I told myself this, though, I couldn’t shake the feeling that he and I would meet again.
Chapter 46
2nd October 2018
Ely, Cambridgeshire
From outside the house I could hear voices – first someone I didn’t know, then Paul’s. He sounded irritated, angry even: ‘Will you just get out of my way? It’s my fucking house!’
I hadn’t heard Paul turn aggressive before, it sounded alien coming from his mouth. Geoff leapt up and went to the front door to help, and I looked around the corner between the living room and hallway to see outside. I didn’t dare go out, in case there were press. I wasn’t ready. Paul eventually came into the house, slamming the door behind him, making me jump. He dropped his bag and then came into the front room, almost bumping into me in the doorway.
‘Jesus, sorry, Claire.’
‘Are you all right?’
He took a deep breath, clearly stressed by it all. ‘Yes, sorry, I’m fine.’
Paul kissed me on the cheek and as he pulled back, I could tell he was as tired and overwhelmed as I was.
‘How are you love?’ he asked, the hardness in his voice gone.
‘You know, surviving.’
‘I’m glad you’re here.’
‘Me too,’ I replied, meaning it. I knew this was where I was supposed to be.
‘Do you want anything?’
‘No, I’m fine now you’re back.’
Paul smiled and went into the kitchen and I followed with my eyes. I saw him lean against the sink, his head heavy, shoulders rolling forward, as if they were too tired to hold him upright. It was only for a moment, but it said so much. He saw me looking and righted himself, beaming a smile my way.
‘Do you want a tea?’ he asked brightly.
‘Please,’ I replied, trying to mirror the lightness in his voice. He turned back to the sink to grab cups from the draining board. Catching his reflection in the window, I saw that the smile was gone, and the deep furrows in his brow had returned. The news had troubled him, and it broke my heart.
‘Paul? Are you all right?’
He turned to me, opening his mouth, as if he was about to say something and stopped himself. ‘I’m fine,’ he said. I didn’t believe it.
Mum and Geoff stayed for the rest of the afternoon, trying and failing to be as normal as they could. Mum, with Paul’s help, cooked us all a lasagne, one of her comfort meals that was usually very well received. Most of it sat and congealed on the dining room table, none of us in the mood to eat. Geoff tried to lighten the mood by telling funny stories from when he was in the army, but none of us laughed either. None of us had the energy to. But I was grateful to them all for trying, and it made the day go faster than I thought it would.
As the sun set, Mum and Geoff reluctantly left, reassuring us they were only around the corner, despite that corner being seventeen miles away. Once the door was shut, the silence felt total and as I dropped onto the sofa, I watched Paul clean up glasses and mugs, his face beaten.
‘Paul…’
‘Don’t worry, I’ll clear up.’
‘No, Paul, stop.’
He did as I asked and looked at me worried. ‘What’s wrong, Claire?’
‘Nothing, well, nothing beyond what should be. Are you OK?’
‘I’m fine,’ he replied, a little too quickly.
‘You don’t look it.’
‘Honestly, I’m OK, I’m just tired. I’ve not been sleeping well lately.’
‘Why haven’t you…’
‘Claire, me losing a little sleep isn’t what’s important right now, is it?’
‘Sorry, I just want to make sure you’re all right.’
‘I’m fine,’ he said quietly, pinching the bridge of his nose.
‘OK,’ I whispered quietly, a strange sense of déjà vu sweeping over me. I got up to go into the kitchen and finish tidying, something to busy myself and shake off the strange feeling. As I passed Paul took my hand.
‘Claire, I’m sorry. I am finding it tough, because I care so much. And I’m sorry if I’ve seemed a little off – a good night’s sleep, next to you, and I’ll be right as rain.’
I was wor
ried about him, about us. There was something he clearly wanted to say but couldn’t. I thought for a moment about his comment about us all having burdens from our past, and whether whatever was wrong was something to do with his. I dismissed it quickly. Something was wrong, and it had nothing to do with the past, and everything to do with the present right now, with me.
Standing, Paul kissed me on the forehead and went into the kitchen. As he continued to tidy, the sound of cups clattering together as he loaded them into the dishwasher swept through the whole house. The silence between us felt new, and the horrible feeling of déjà vu lingered. I need to do something. On the coffee table I saw the TV remote and felt the urge to pick it up. I knew I shouldn’t; I knew I would only see reports on him. How it wasn’t Tommy Kay, how they had gotten it wrong. I suspected they would pontificate about what the real Black-Out Killer had been doing for a decade, where he had been. I could almost hear them linking him to other unsolved murders. I knew it would upset me but, if I was to be the third version of me that Geoff spoke of, I couldn’t hide from what was happening in the world. So, grabbing the remote I switched it on and turned to BBC News.
Nothing could have prepared me for what I saw. Staring back at me from the screen was Killian, standing behind a wall of microphones outside Huntingdon police station.
I turned the volume up and Paul came back into the lounge.
‘Claire, I don’t think…’
He was as shocked as me to see Killian and stopping mid-phrase, he slumped on the sofa beside me.
Closer Than You Think Page 22