by S Williams
‘The candles should have been a bit of a giveaway.’ Athene indicates the pale stubs of glowing light cascaded around the room. As she speaks she leans against the wall. Trent slides down it, unable to stand any longer. Just hobbling down the stairs seems to have sapped the small amount of strength he had. ‘I mean, just lighting them all would have taken longer than the time I had after I left you, let alone the fact that half of them were burnt down.’
Jamie is on his knees in the middle of the kitchen, one hand keeping himself up by grasping the mottled refectory table, the other hanging loosely by his side. He isn’t looking at them, isn’t speaking.
‘And then there was the shopkeeper, telling you she’d seen me last year, but with different hair.’
Beside him a petrol can lies on its side, liquid guttering out of it in belches and glugs.
‘What the fuck?’ whispers Trent, staring at Jamie.
Mouse silently agrees. Sticking out of Jamie’s shoulder is a wooden splinter of plank, the length of it at right angles to his body.
Thunk. Scream.
The reason it was held in place was two-fold; the rusty spike that must be attached to it, that protruded from Jamie’s back like a wet metal finger, and the girl that was firmly holding the other end.
Thunk. Scream.
‘The fact is I didn’t come up here last year,’ Athene says. ‘It wasn’t me the woman saw.’
The girl must have smashed the homemade club into him. Mouse remembers the piece of wood they’d seen outside, with the big rusty nails in it. She stares at her.
‘Martha,’ Mouse whispers.
‘Yes.’ Athene limping forward to stand next to her half-sister. ‘Told you he’d forgotten something.’
Some-thing, thinks Mouse, remembering Bella’s pet name for Martha. She nods, then gasps when Martha pulls back on the wooden stake, ripping the spike out of Jamie’s flesh. It releases with a squishy sound like a boot from a bog. Jamie screams and collapses to the floor, grasping at his shoulder.
‘She impaled him with a spike!’ Trent says hoarsely, still sat on the dirty floor. ‘She could have killed him.’
‘I was aiming for his head.’ Martha’s voice isn’t like Athene’s; it is more like Trent’s. There is a roughness there like a burnt painting.
‘You can’t kill him, no matter what he’s done.’ Mouse looks pleadingly at the two girls.
‘He murdered Bella and tried to kill both of you,’ says Martha, not taking her eyes off Jamie. ‘He murdered his wife and posted her car crash on the internet. Why the fuck shouldn’t we kill him?’
‘But you’re a police officer!’ Mouse says, staring at Athene. ‘Surely you can just arrest him? Now you’ve got the evidence?’
‘What evidence? Jamie’s not in any of the photos, and whatever physical evidence there might have been – the cars – was destroyed.’
‘But the photos! The dark web address or whatever it is. Surely–’
‘I lied,’ Athene says flatly, staring down at the bleeding man. Jamie was breathing heavily, but was otherwise still, as if listening intently.
‘The two crash pictures found by the dark web police operation; it was a fluke that I was attached to the cataloguing. As a new trainee that’s the kind of stuff they get us to do. Filing. Indexing digital evidence. I recognised Trent’s car straight away.’ Athene smiles harshly. ‘Why wouldn’t I; I had a picture just like it at home, in the file I was given when I turned eighteen.’
‘But how did you find Martha?’ Trent asks.
‘When you join the force they take a DNA sample, so you can be eliminated at a crime scene.’ She shrugs. ‘I had a match in the system. Martha had a... difficult upbringing. Foster care. Petty crime. She’d been arrested several times.’
‘Meant to find each other,’ Martha says softly, turning and looking at her sister. Athene smiles and reaches out a hand. Strokes her shoulder.
‘Once we found each other, we decided to find out who had killed Bella.’
‘Your mother,’ Trent, his voice quiet.
‘My mother and my sister, as we both had the same father. Martha came up here and discovered the diaries. I continued to dig into the web to see who had posted the pictures.’
‘And you found Jamie.’
‘Not right away. As I said, it was a lie that we knew who it was. To begin with we thought it might be Trent. Or you. When we found the diaries it all looked a little... complicated. Trent cheating on her put both of you in the frame, with maybe even a suicide into the mix.’
‘Be much easier these days.’ Martha’s voice is laced with sadness amongst the sediment of pain. ‘You could just be open and form a three-group.’
‘But instead Jamie here tries to kill you all, because he thinks Bella is going to make you remember what happened. That it wasn’t drug-drunk sex; it was rape.’
Mouse suddenly brings her hand up to her face.
‘What is it?’ Trent looks at her.
‘The night of the crash. Just before we left the disco. Bella danced with me.’
‘I remember,’ he says. ‘Jamie had just told me he’d spilled about the picture.’
‘I always thought, after, that what she whispered was about what she was going to do to us. Crash the car. But it wasn’t.’ Mouse feels tears spring from the well of memories. ‘It was about me, not her.’
‘What did she say?’ Athene’s voice is hungry.
‘“I’m so sorry,”’ Mouse breathes, feeling fresh tears, but this time of love. ‘That’s what she said. “I’m so sorry.” She was talking about what Jamie did to me. She was thinking about me. Even with all she was carrying, she was thinking about me.’
‘She loved you,’ Athene says simply.
Mouse nods, then looks at Jamie. He stares at her, and all Mouse sees is the boy who had always stared at her, hurt and broken. She shakes her head.
‘We still can’t kill him. It would be murder. We’d be as bad as him.’
In the silence that fills the room, Mouse feels her heart settle, perhaps for the first time in twenty years. And then Martha’s voice cuts through.
‘Oh no, we could never be as bad as him.’
Mouse feels her heart beat. Slow and slow. Surely there can’t be more?
‘Please, let me go,’ Jamie says in a small voice.
‘Tell her, ’Thene.’
Athene looks at Martha for a beat, then nods. She turns to Mouse, stretching one hand out slightly, then letting it fall.
‘Those photos. Of the crashed cars and the blackmail-sex reels? Well, Jamie was very good. There’s not one video with him in it. Not his face anyway. No identifying features. The only faces recognisable are the victims.’
‘Hence the blackmail,’ Martha adds.
‘Look, just let me go. Take me to the police. I’m….’ There is a strange, hiccupping, cry in the back of his throat. ‘I’m sick. Unwell. I need help.’
‘I don’t understand. What has this got to…’ Mouse looks from one girl to the other, then at Jamie.
‘Upstairs, when I said only you and him could know what happened that night, by the pinball machine?’ Athene gazes at her.
Mouse nods, cold creeping through her bones like vines.
‘I know you couldn’t, because you were drugged.’
‘We both were!’ Jamie says. ‘We were E’d up out–’
‘It wasn’t Ecstasy; or at least not only Ecstasy. And he,’ Athene snapped. She flicked her eyes on the kneeling man like she was flicking acid. ‘Didn’t seem to be on drugs at all.’
Jamie opened his mouth, but no sound came out.
‘How did you know it was by a pinball machine,’ Mouse says quietly, staring at Athene.
Martha nods to herself, attention still on Jamie.
‘That night, the night he raped you,’ Athene says softly. ‘He filmed it too. While you were unconscious on Rohypnol or whatever he gave you, he…’ Athene moves her hands gently, ‘…he degraded you and dehumanised you and film
ed it all.’
Mouse feels a heat spread over her face, even as it drained from her heart.
‘Not real,’ whispers Jamie to himself. ‘Just acting. Not real.’
‘No,’ Mouse says, shaking her head.
‘It’s true. He filmed it all.’
Mouse continues to shake her head, not wanting to believe.
‘And later, he posted it all. On the web.’
‘It’s all there, for anyone who knows how to watch.’ Martha’s voice is hammer hard.
‘He said it just happened. That he woke up and…’ Mouse’s voice trails off.
‘But you never believed it, did you?’ Athene stares at her, eyes deep pools of sadness in the candlelight. ‘Not really. That’s why you hesitated last night. When I said I needed somewhere to stay. Why you gave me your mobile. In case–’
‘Anyone who has a computer, or a smartphone. Anyone in his sick little group,’ Martha continues, as if Athene hadn’t spoken.
Mouse looks from Martha to Athene, then at Jamie. Jamie’s eyes are wide with pain and fear. Then Mouse looks at the phone held loosely in Athene’s hand.
‘Show me,’ she says.
‘No! I need to go to a hospital! I’m–’
‘Show me.’
Athene shakes her head.
‘Please. I need to see.’
Athene looks at Mouse for a long second, nods, then taps at her phone.
78
The Craven Head: After Closing Time
‘Just need to rest for a minute.’
Mouse’s words came out slurred, like somebody had covered them in honey. Jamie watched as she slumped against the pinball machine, letting her head fall against the glass covering the playfield.
‘Mouse?’
Jamie gave her a little shake. ‘Mouse, are you okay?’ He tried again, concern on his face. ‘Mouse? Can you hear me?’
No answer.
Slowly the expression slipped off his features until all that was left was a kind of blankness, as if his skin was nothing more than dough. He stared at the back of her head, checking for movement. After a moment, he walked away, back into the main bar, checking to make sure no one was there. He’d gotten rid of the last of the stragglers an hour ago; helped them out and locked the door, but sometimes his dad liked to come down. Not so much these days, but it was still worth checking. He walked behind the bar to the door that led through to the staff staircase and listened. Satisfied, he slid the bolt. Nobody was coming down that way to surprise him. Next he walked to the door that led out into the lobby; he’d secured it earlier, but better to be safe than sorry. Once he was sure, he walked back into the games room. Mouse was still where she was when he left her; a little lower maybe. The lights on the scoreboard flickered and strobed above her. He reached out and dimmed the room light, creating shadows around the unconscious girl.
Jamie smiled, his tongue slipping out between his teeth slightly. He could see the gentle rise and fall of her chest against the glass. Where she had slipped down, her dress skirt had risen slightly.
This was going to be so much fun.
Jamie walked back into the bar and pulled his camcorder from under the counter, switching it on. The machine made the little click and whirr sound that meant the tape was in and ready for use. He checked the battery indicator light to make sure there was enough juice. Nodding to himself when he saw the green light, he walked further down the bar to the cupboard that housed the crisps and nut refills. He squatted down, rummaging among the boxes, pulling out the small plastic first aid kit they kept. He opened it and removed the travel tub of Vaseline. Bar work was prone to small cuts and burns; broken bottles and boiling water for glass cleaning, so Vaseline was always a handy product to have.
Jamie took the small tub and the camcorder back to the games room. Mouse was still in the same position, with her upper body lain across the pinball machine like she’d been shot. Jamie wondered if he should put her song on, the one from that TV show? Or maybe the track her and bitch-Bella were always dancing to, like they were a couple of dykes.
No, he thought, shaking his head slightly. The noise might wake somebody up. Either Mouse, or his dad. And he didn’t want that to happen, did he? Besides, he could always add a music track later. Jamie looked at Mouse’s arms, resting loosely on the machine. He smiled. He put down the camcorder and tin of Vaseline on the little round table next to him, then silently picked it up and positioned it behind and to the side of Mouse. Then he placed a bar stool on the table and put the camera on top. He wished he’d bought his tripod down, but didn’t want to risk going up for it. He looked through the viewer and tutted. Quietly, he went around the tables grabbing beer mats. One by one he placed them under the back of the camcorder, tilting it down, until he was satisfied he had the correct angle. Then he switched on the camera and waited a moment, making sure the little REC symbol was flashing in the corner of the tiny screen.
After all, he wouldn’t be able to go back for a second take.
Jamie took the lid off the Vaseline and walked up behind Mouse, making sure to keep his face forward. Not that it mattered; he’d positioned the camera on Mouse, lying waist-flat on the pinball; him standing upright behind her would mean his head wouldn’t even be in shot. He put down the tin of Vaseline and slowly raised Mouse’s dress.
79
Blea Fell Kitchen
Mouse watches herself, the attack being parcelled up in seconds of hate by the digital counter displayed in the corner of the shot. She feels numb. She thinks she might throw up as she watches Jamie remove her clothes, and the unscrewing of the tub of Vaseline. She wants to turn off the recording but she can’t. She can’t seem to stop gripping the phone. It is only when it is gently prised from her fingers that she realises she is crying.
‘Jesus fucking Christ, Mouse,’ whispers Jamie. ‘I’m so sorry.’ He tries to stand; to walk over to Mouse, but his legs won’t do what he wants. Instead he reaches out an arm towards her, then lets it fall. ‘It… just happened.’
‘Not your fault, Mouse. No shame involved here from you,’ says Athene, her voice seeming so thin as to be shadow skin. She glances at the screen, her face unreadable. ‘It goes on for another sixteen minutes.’
‘And people can watch…?’
The words die in Mouse’s throat.
‘Yes, he has it posted on the web, where it’s shared around the dark corners and lapped up by pain-freaks and rape-junkies.’ Martha’s voice is coffin-thick.
‘Sometimes they’re threatened or blackmailed into it, and sometimes, like you, they’re drugged and have no memory.’
‘Those ones are quite sought out, apparently. If the victim doesn’t even know they’ve been raped it gives an extra… frisson. Sleeping beauties, they’re called.’
‘He also posted pictures of Bella, naked in her bathroom, covered in cuts and bruises.’
‘He raped you, Mouse,’ Athene says. ‘And he posted it online so you can be raped again and again by the gaze of strangers.’
Mouse can barely breathe. She looks at Athene, hoping to see something in there that will help her, but all she sees is pity. Then she looks at Martha. Martha’s eyes are burning. Martha’s eyes are on fire.
‘I want to kill him, Mouse. I want to stop him for ending my sister. Bella was going to run away and be happy with you and Trent. Even what our father did to her couldn’t break her. She survived all that and was going to be happy, and Jamie stopped that.’
And, finally, Mouse looks at Jamie.
The first notes of ‘Only You’ leak out into the candlelit room, and from there into her body, wrapping themselves around her heart.
‘Only you, Bella,’ she whispers.
Mouse stands.
80
Blea Fell: the Ghost Forest
Nine Months Later
‘You know, I can’t believe they didn’t die; you’d think after burning like they did it would be game over.’
‘No way; these trees will outlast God.
Their roots are buried in a prehistoric ocean; a little thing like fire isn’t going to even break their stride.’
Athene, Mouse, Trent and Martha stare at the stunted juniper trees. Leaves have returned to the majority of them, and in the spring dew they glitter like they have been draped in pearls.
‘Bella would love this,’ says Mouse. Even though it’s still early the air has a hint of the day’s warmth in it.
‘What?’ Athene asks. ‘The four of us here, or why we’re here?’
‘Both.’ Trent smiles. The scar on the side of his head where Jamie beat him with the wood club gives him a piratical air. Mouse glances at the stick in his hand. The blow caused more than the rakish scars. The headaches and the discoordination were long term; perhaps the longest. Months of physio meant he was out of the wheelchair, but the stick would be permanent. Mouse stays within easy reach in case he stumbles. ‘She would love both.’
‘What time does the solicitor get here?’ Martha’s face is tight, but not from hate or burden, just from anxiousness. The months of labyrinthine legality to determine ownership of Blea Fell had taken their toll. Now the moment was finally here she was nervous. Athene places a hand on her shoulder.
‘Any time now.’
Martha nods slightly. She clutches the remainder of Bella’s ashes tight to her. When Athene had turned eighteen she had been given her mother’s remains. They have placed a proportion in tiny metal vials and hung them from the juniper trees. In the gentle wind they chime against each other, as if they are on a swaying ship. Mouse hopes Bella’s ghost can hear them. Later they are going to scatter the rest in Mouse’s garden.
Mouse smiles at Trent.
Not just her garden now.
It has been a long journey, sorting out the legal papers as to Blea Fell’s ownership, but finally the deeds are Martha and Athene’s. After the papers have been signed, then it will be legal for the demolition crew to begin.