by Wyer, Carol
‘Yes.’
‘Katy, I might pop out for a while.’
‘To the pub,’ she said flatly, her voice almost inaudible through the door.
He pushed it open. Katy was sat cross-legged on the bed, her mobile in front of her on the duvet. She didn’t glance in his direction.
‘I won’t be long.’
‘Whatever,’ was the reply.
He left her to it and trudged back downstairs, where he picked up the pink sports bag she used for school and moved it next to her coat so it would be ready for the morning. Then he left the house, turning before he reached his car, to look up at her window. A crack in the hastily drawn curtains allowed a small ribbon of light to escape and he waited but no one appeared to wave at him. With a small sigh, he unlocked the car door.
It was eight o’clock when Christopher Bywater awoke to the sound of his alarm chirping. He yawned, stretched and kicked off the duvet then padded out onto the landing and tapped on Katy’s door. There was no answer. He headed downstairs, expecting her to be in the kitchen, but there was no one. He climbed the stairs again and knocked once more. This time louder.
‘Katy, love. It’s gone eight.’
Still no answer. He pushed the door open and stuck his head in. ‘Katy, it’s gone…’ The words froze on his lips. There was nobody there and Katy’s duvet bore the indentation of somebody who’d sat on it but not slept beneath it.
The bathroom door was ajar and his daughter wasn’t there. He raced back downstairs and flung open the sitting-room door. Her mug was still lying beside the chair where she’d left it. He ran a hand through his hair, walked back out to the hallway and stood stock-still. The realisation of what had happened was a punch to his solar plexus. Katy’s pink bag wasn’t where he’d placed it. She’d taken it. His daughter had run away again.
Nineteen
Then
There had been a general buzz on the playground the previous afternoon. Somebody had spotted a snake in the dump and several of the older boys had gone across to flush it out and kill it but returned empty-handed. The boy is more excited than most at the prospect of discovering it and adding it to his list of kills. If he could catch it and smash a rock on its head and bring it back, he’ll be a hero. They won’t snigger at his stunted form or squeaky, babyish voice any more. He is so carried away with the prospect, he doesn’t hear the teacher ask him a question, and when he looks up, a vacant look on his face, and replies honestly, ‘I wasn’t listening, sir,’ the entire class begins giggling.
The teacher becomes irritated and sends the boy to the headmaster’s office for being insolent. He doesn’t even know what insolent means, and it’s unfair he’s been sent to the head for simply day-dreaming. The boy decides to bunk off instead. He’s already in trouble so he might as well be in trouble for doing something wrong. Besides, he has maths next and he hates maths. He’ll be better off going home and then facing up to any anger the following day. He knows the drill – the head will tell him off and threaten to suspend him for a few days, and his mum will be asked to come to the school to fetch him. She’ll be angry with him but eventually she’ll forget all about it.
He has another reason for returning home ahead of the others: he wants to find that snake. The week before, he’d managed to trap a creature that resembled a mouse but turned out to be a shrew with a pointy nose, that screeched to be freed when he stuffed a plastic tub on top of it. Its screaming intensified until he decided it would attract attention from other kids and he crushed it. He’d killed another three cats – the last one, a manky old thing with matted fur and weeping eyes that was better off dead. It wasn’t as much fun watching cats die as it had once been, nor the rabbits who he hit with well-aimed stones, or the dog that had snarled at him and bared sharp teeth until the sharp-edged stone had struck it between the eyes and it had yelped and then collapsed in convulsions. The boy had enjoyed its death throes for a short while but a snake… a snake would be far more satisfying to kill.
He hoists his bag over his shoulders and slips out of the school gate. It’s unlikely that anyone will observe him running back to the flats via the lanes and fields. No one ever seems to notice him. He’s like the invisible man. Veering off the route and onto the wasteland, he speeds towards the high fence where he’d seen Faye and her mates enter the dump. It doesn’t take long before he finds the loose wire netting and pulls at it with eager fingers. He shoves his bag under it first and then, commando-style, wriggles under the fence on his belly. He stands up, bashes at the dusty earth clinging to his clothes and kneecaps and grins. He is in.
The smell doesn’t hit him immediately. It’s a sweet aroma similar to the stench of the dead cat he’d kept in a shoebox until the maggots inside it made its stomach explode and he had to get rid of it. It isn’t unpleasant but it is a little cloying. Walking slowly, head turning left and right, he imagines himself to be a big game hunter in Africa, looking for signs of wildlife. He isn’t sure what tracks a snake makes or where it might hide, but he lifts a solid, dark-red stone, ready to hurl as a missile should he spot the snake slithering into sight. The smell intensifies – rotting vegetables and something else he doesn’t recognise that makes his nose wrinkle. It’s emanating from a mountain of waste that is gradually coming into view. It isn’t as high as the block of flats in which he lives but it is certainly as tall as a house, with sloped sides of garbage, cans, packaging and other unidentifiable pieces of rubbish.
This isn’t as interesting as he’d hoped, and he ambles up to the foot of the slope and studies the peelings and assortment of boxes, wrappers and junk, feeling let down. None of it will be worth collecting. It is nothing more than garbage. He catches a slight movement in the corner of his eye and spins around, stone lifted. It isn’t the snake. It’s hard-faced Faye Boynton, in school uniform, with two of her friends.
‘Whatcha doing here?’ she demands.
He’s no longer the brave hunter. Facing her cold, hard stare and the mocking looks from her friends, he mumbles a reply: ‘Nothing.’
‘He’s got a weapon. He’s brought some protection… against the snake,’ chuckles Missy Henshaw, who is at least two feet taller than him. ‘Why’ve you got a stone, little boy?’
‘Scaredy-cat, scaredy-cat!’ The third girl, Vee Patel, annoys him with her childish chant. He isn’t afraid of a snake. He’s going to kill it.
Missy joins in the teasing. ‘Scaredy-cat! Were you frightened the snake would gobble you up? It’s way bigger than you.’ She bursts into laughter.
He shakes his head but the sight of Faye’s face prevents him from speaking out. Two fire spots of red appear on her high cheeks. ‘Why are you here? You spying on us?’
‘No-oh.’ The word came out like a faint bleat that makes the other two girls laugh again.
‘Yeah he was. He’s followed us here.’ Vee approaches him and he takes an involuntary step backwards, stumbling on the uneven ground and landing on his backside.
‘Whoops! He’s landed on his scrawny arse,’ says Vee in glee.
Faye continues to stare at him.
‘I’m not afraid,’ he pipes up.
Missy folds her arms and glowers at him. ‘You ought to be.’
‘Why aren’t you in school?’ Vee’s words take him by surprise. He’s momentarily forgotten all about school. The girls should be there too. They’ve bunked off as well.
‘I decided to come here instead.’ He pushes himself up into a standing position. Vee is far too close for comfort, staring down at him.
One of Faye’s eyebrows lifts in interest. ‘You skiving?’
He nods and receives a vague look of approval that emboldens him. ‘I wanted to kill the snake.’
Faye glances across at Missy and then suddenly they both burst into laughter again. He becomes indignant. He might not be much to look at but he has killed animals and he will kill the snake. ‘I did. I’ve killed before.’
Vee edges close enough that he can smell cigarette smoke on her
uniform. She pokes him hard in the chest with a fingernail.
‘Ow! That hurt.’
‘What? This?’ She pokes him again, harder still. He presses his lips together to prevent himself from making a sound.
‘Pack it in, Vee.’
‘Why? He’s a nosy parker. He’s followed us here and he’ll dob us in to the teachers.’
Faye shakes her head. ‘No, he won’t. Will you? Cos if you do, we know where you live.’ She doesn’t need to say what she’ll do. The fact she knows who he is and where he lives is enough to make him keep quiet about this encounter.
He shakes his head. ‘I won’t say nuffin’.’
‘I won’t say nuffin’,’ repeats Missy in a high-pitched voice, and she snorts in a derisory manner. ‘Little shit. Why don’t you fuck off home now?’
‘What are you all doing here?’ He doesn’t know what has made him ask. Maybe he’s feeling less threatened because he’s keeping their secret or he’s simply curious. His mother tires easily of all his questions and tells him he asks too many. ‘You know, curiosity killed the cat,’ she said after he’d bombarded her with questions about space and the planets for almost an hour. He’d merely smiled. It wasn’t curiosity that killed them – it was him. Faye scowls at him, bringing him back to the present.
‘None of your business what we’re doing. Now, buzz off or I’ll tell your mum you were skiving.’
‘She won’t care.’ He isn’t going to be cast off. He wants to find some of the treasures in the dump that he’s heard other kids talking about, or the snake. ‘Can I come with you? I’m good at killing things. I can look out for the snake.’
For some reason, this makes the girls laugh again and Faye rolls her eyes. ‘What have you killed?’
‘A big fat toad, some cats, a mouse-thing and a dog.’
Vee sniggers. Faye doesn’t. Instead she gives him another look, like he’s a strange object. ‘Go on, then. You can come with us but you have to prove to us first that you’re brave enough. You don’t look very brave.’ She winks at Missy, who gives a small nod. He doesn’t understand its meaning but he’s suddenly keen to join the trio. It’s a new feeling, being part of something. ‘You can be our lookout and kill the snake but only if you do a dare.’
‘What sort of dare?’
‘We’ll show you.’
The girls stride off as one and he follows, his legs a blur in an attempt to maintain the same pace. They move around the stinking mountain of waste towards another pile, smaller and less smelly. This refuse isn’t rotting. Heaped in front of him are household appliances: old dryers, refrigerators, washing machines, vacuum cleaners, ovens and other white goods he’s seen when shopping with his mother. This is the treasure he’s heard about. Although these are broken and disused, there’s surely something that could be fixed or sold. His eyes dance over a silver electric kettle, complete with plug, the snake now forgotten. He could take back something for his mother and make her happy with him. He almost misses Faye speaking to him.
‘There. You have to climb into that.’
Ahead of him is a large, glass-fronted washing machine. It isn’t much of a dare. He’s climbed into all sorts of spaces tighter than that. It’s the advantage of being so small. He’d once hidden in a space behind the toilet for over an hour while his dad had searched for him to give him a hiding for stealing from the local shop. By the time he’d crawled out, his dad had forgotten about the spanking and gone down the pub instead. That was before he got blown up by a bomb. He blinks away thoughts of his dad.
‘You’re skinny enough to get into the drum. Go on. Whatcha waiting for?’
‘Then I can come with you?’
‘Sure you can.’ Faye’s eyes glitter dangerously but he doesn’t mind. He can get into the machine. It isn’t much of a dare at all.
‘Okay.’ He trots towards the white enamel machine, squeezes through the round hole and clambers into the drum, folding his legs up in front of his chest and clasping his arms around his knees. His head is at an uncomfortable angle but it’s bearable. ‘See. I’m in.’
‘I knew you could get in,’ says Faye.
‘It’s easy,’ he replies with confidence.
‘You have to stay there now until I let you out.’
He hesitates for a second. He’s already done what she’s asked so she should let him join them. He opens his mouth to say so but changes his mind. It won’t be for long. The girls have to go home for their tea and they’ll let him out before then.
He tries to nod but it isn’t possible. The drum in the machine rocks slightly left and then right, making him think he’s going to topple over.
Faye waggles fingers at him and shuts the door. It makes a click that sounds very loud inside the drum. He can’t see through the glass door very well. It’s blurry and he can’t make out the three girls. They’re now distorted shapes that stare in at him through the glass, faces that grow and change shape as they look and point. They remind him of when his mum took him to the funfair and they’d stood together in the hall of mirrors and laughed at their massive fat faces and round bellies and super-long arms. It was the only time he’d not looked like a toddler and his mum had hugged him and told him one day he’d grow up to look like the really tall, slim boy in the third mirror.
Faye’s nose is massive and her forehead small like a weird cartoon character. ‘You look funny,’ he shouts. The reply is muffled. Suddenly Faye’s face disappears and he watches as the girls back away. The enclosed space suddenly feels really tight, squeezing the air from his lungs, like it’s closing in on him. He calls out, ‘Faye. I have to go home for tea soon. Don’t leave me long.’ The girls don’t hear him. He watches as they become black specks and disappear from view. He tries to push open the door but there isn’t enough room to move and the door is stuck fast. The drum slides to the left and his body sways to the right. He attempts to steady himself but it makes matters worse and he tumbles sideways. Now his head is cricked to the left and his legs too high and he can’t sit up.
‘Faye!’ His voice, high and whiny, makes him more frightened than anything. He isn’t a brave hunter. He’s a scared boy trapped inside a washing machine.
Twenty
Thursday, 19 April – Early Morning
Natalie was completely disorientated, her head thick from sleep. The buzzing drone that had woken her hadn’t come from the cloud of bees she’d been dreaming about: it was her mobile. On sudden autopilot, she tossed back the bedcovers, forced herself upright and staggered into the bathroom, where she dropped down onto the toilet, thankful David always put the seat down after use, to take the call.
‘Natalie, it’s Lucy. Murray said you wanted to be contacted if there was a development.’
She wiped sticky sleep dust from one eye, instantly more alert. ‘Yes, what is it?’
‘We believe we have another suspect… Kyle Yates.’
‘Kyle?’
‘Murray’s gone to fetch him.’
‘Okay. Give me half an hour. Fill me in when I get there.’
She ended the call and sat for a minute, letting the cool air rouse her. It was 1.12 a.m. She’d managed five hours of sleep. She probably needed another five but that wasn’t going to happen. She slipped back into the bedroom to collect her clothes, and as she reached for them on the chair closest to her side of the bed, David’s voice reached her.
‘You going?’
‘Yes. They’ve pulled a suspect. Go back to sleep.’
‘I’m not tired.’ The bedside lamp lit up suddenly, casting a soft glow over his side of the bed, and David pushed himself into a sitting position. ‘Sorry about earlier. I had things on my mind. I shouldn’t have jumped down your throat.’
She pulled on her blouse and tucked it into her trousers. ‘I wasn’t in the best of moods. Leigh overheard us.’
‘Want me to say something to her?’
‘Let it drop for now. I don’t want the kids involved in our spats.’
‘Been a bi
t more than spats recently, haven’t they? Don’t give me that look. I’m not spoiling for another fight. I wanted to apologise, that’s all. You’re right to worry about them both and it’s harder for you when you have to be out at all hours – I get it. I went off the deep end. I was uptight. The translation’s proved harder going than I anticipated and I need to make the deadline tomorrow night.’
She finished dressing, ran a comb through her hair, secured it in a loose bun with a clip and then brushed her lips with a tinted gloss. She’d do. She faced David. ‘Hopefully you’ll get it done today, with both of the kids out of the way until later.’
‘That’s what I’m banking on.’
There was a pause before she said, ‘We need to try harder. We can’t be fighting in front of them.’
His face was genuine concern, a deep furrow between his eyes. ‘I know. We’ll fix this. See you later. Good luck.’
‘Thanks… now go back to sleep.’
She felt more refreshed after the rest and was keen to talk to Kyle again. She crept onto the landing and past Leigh’s bedroom. The nightlight illuminated her daughter’s form, one arm dangling over the side of the bed, her fingertips grazing her bed companion, a large beige teddy bear called Sammy. Natalie tiptoed into the room, tucked the girl’s arm back under the duvet, lifted the soft toy off the floor and slid it into the bed next to her before she stole downstairs.
One desk was filled with takeaway cups and empty packaging. A half-eaten egg sandwich had been thrown on top of a serviette. Natalie took a sip of water from the bottle she’d grabbed from her fridge back home and waited for Lucy to explain their findings.