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Part 1
The Follower
‘The night was dark, no father was there
The child was wet with dew.
The mire was deep, and the child did weep
And away the vapour flew.’
William Blake
1
‘Don’t cry, Ellie… please don’t cry.’ Looking up at his sister with blue, soulful eyes, the boy shifted himself along the car seat and slid his small hand into hers. For a warm April afternoon, his fingers were surprisingly chilly. His voice, too, had a cold, disturbing edge to it. ‘I hate her!’ he said, his gaze reaching beyond Ellie, to where the man was knelt in the grass, his head bent low and his lips moving in a whisper, as though he was taking part in a secret conversation.
For a fleeting moment, the man’s eyes strayed back to the two huddled figures in the car. He smiled, but it was merely a kind gesture designed to comfort them. Yet it brought only pain to his watching children, for the smile never reached the man’s eyes – dark, familiar eyes that were still haunted and confused. ‘Hush, Johnny.’ Ellie squeezed the boy’s fingers lovingly. ‘Please don’t say that… don’t ever say you hate her.’
‘All the same, I do!’ he hissed, his baby blue eyes brilliant and hostile. ‘Anyway, she never loved me. It was you she loved… and him.’ He nodded his head in the man’s direction. ‘She never wanted me. I heard her say it.’
‘You’re wrong, sweetheart. Mother did love you.’ She, too, had heard her mother say on at least one occasion, that Johnny had ‘been a mistake’. Ellie had often wondered at the age gap between her and Johnny, but whenever she broached the subject to her mother, Marie, her questions were coolly received.
‘Then why did she tell Daddy that she wished I’d never been born? You answer me that.’
‘She was ill. We know that now. Don’t think about the last few weeks, Johnny. Think about before… when she was well. When she made us laugh, and sang you to sleep… when she kissed you and loved you better than any woman could ever love her son. Think of those times, sweetheart. Don’t dwell on the bad times.’ For a moment, Ellie was lost in her own thoughts. Strange how no one had realised how disturbed their mother had grown. Strange, and unforgivable. Yet, how were they to know, when only two days before it happened, they were all opening their Christmas presents, bubbling with happiness and making plans for the New Year. Only, when the New Year came, she was gone. And by her own hand, or so they said. Even now, almost four months on, the whole, terrible thing seemed so unreal. ‘You know she adored you, Johnny… deep down, you do know that, don’t you?’ Ellie pleaded, her strong amber eyes tenderly bathing his face. He was so wrong, she thought, so very wrong. But then, he was only nine, and had seen things that no child should see. Not for the first time, Ellie wondered if he would ever recover from his experience.
For a long, painful moment, the boy glared back at her, his mouth drawn into a thin, spiteful line. Then slowly, his gaze mellowed and he began trembling. ‘I suppose so,’ he murmured sullenly, ‘if you say so, Ellie.’
‘And you won’t think about that one time when she said something that hurt you… something she didn’t mean?’ The tears tumbled down Ellie’s face. She missed her mother so much.
Johnny saw her crying. It angered him. ‘All right.’ His voice fell to a whisper as he added, ‘But it’s too late now. You mustn’t cry, Ellie.’ He tugged at her. ‘There’s nothing we can do to bring her back… nothing any of us can do. It’s too late, don’t you see? It’s too late.’ Something that sounded like a sob broke from him. Yet, when Ellie glanced down, he was smiling. ‘But, it’ll be all right now,’ he told her, nestling so hard into Ellie’s side that she winced. ‘I won’t let any harm come to you, though… you’ll see, I won’t let anyone hurt you!’ There was vehemence in his voice. And fear. And something that made her blood run cold.
‘Bless you, Johnny.’ Ellie inwardly chided herself and hugged him fiercely. ‘You make me feel ashamed.’ She wiped her eyes. ‘Here am I, going on twenty… more than twice your age and, of the two of us, you’re the stronger.’ It was true. She had been astonished at her brother’s courage, yet it had also crossed her mind how unnaturally calm he had been since that fateful night. It concerned her that he had not shed a single tear. And, though she put it down to her own imagination, Ellie could not rid herself of the realisation that, in unguarded moments, he seemed to be more surly in manner, often spiteful, whereas, before, he had been a bright, busy child, curious and always gentle in his affection. On the two occasions when Ellie had broached the subject with her father, she was told it was not surprising that Johnny had changed. ‘Don’t forget it was the boy who found her, Ellie. A thing like that will stain his memory for a very long time to come. But, he’ll be fine… he’s young, and strong-minded. You know what the doctor said, Ellie… all we can do is reinforce our love for Johnny. In time he will forget, I promise.’
Ellie was reassured by her father’s confidence. And when, some weeks ago, he had broken the news to them that he had been offered a post as caretaker of a listed building in the south of England, Ellie agreed that a ‘new start’ was exactly what they all needed.
She didn’t mind leaving college. Her mind had strayed from studies anyway, and things were not going too well with Barny. Oh, she still loved him, but she needed a little time to think. She needed a breathing space, away from the pressure of college, and a measure of distance between her and Barny, at least for a while, might do more good than harm. She did love him. There was no one else; there never had been. Right from that first moment when Barny had screeched his battered old van to a halt after driving it through a puddle and splashing her from head to toe, she had been drawn to him. She liked the way he fussed over her and the charming, if frantic, manner in which he had apologised. ‘Like’ quickly turned to love over the ensuing months, when they spent every spare moment together; arguing, making-up, fighting and laughing like all lovers do.
After the tragedy, the laughter disappeared, and there settled between them a terrible quietness. The shock of her mother’s death, and the awful manner of it, festered between them until it became an unbearable threat to any future they might have had. She could no longer give herself to him. He understood, but bitterly resented the situation. It got to a point when they would meet, only to sit in an unsettled silence in his van, neither of them knowing what to say or how to repair the damage that was tearing them apart. In the end, regretfully, Ellie had finished it. ‘We need time away from each other,’ she had said. And she was not surprised when Barny did not argue. She missed him, though. And, deep down, she knew that he missed her.
Jack Armstrong got to his feet. He groaned softly as the cramp gripped his knees. He was not a young man, but neither was he old; it was only six months ago that he had celebrated his forty-fourth birthday. So much had happened since then. So much, that it would haunt him until the day he, too, was called to his Maker. Amidst all the shock and grief, one question had surfaced and remained uppermost in his mind – why? ‘Dear God in heaven… why?’ He raised his face to the sky, his voice soft in prayer. He found no answer. No comfort. No reassurance. Only a deep sense of horror that would not go away. And a terrible instinctive foreboding that had begun long before his wife had… had… He could not bear to think on it. He must learn to look forward now, to a new beginning. He had to carve a new life for himself and the children, many miles away from here. A sudden desolation settled on him. In his deepest heart, he was still mortally afraid. On that God-forsaken night when his wife had committed such a heinous act, there must h
ave been wicked, dark forces at work. How otherwise could a sweet and gentle soul enter into so terrifying an ordeal? There was something… some awful, crippling thing that had driven her to do it.
Turning his head away from the afternoon sunlight, Jack Armstrong looked across to where his two children were waiting in the car. His warm, blue eyes sought out Ellie’s anxious face. He smiled. How lovely she is, he thought with pride. And how very much like her mother – with her strong, amber-coloured eyes and wild, curly hair that tumbled to her shoulders like spilling sunshine. The bitter-sweet pain tugged at his senses. He drew his gaze away. And now, he was looking on the small face of his son. He felt the smile melt from him, and in its place there came a puzzling emotion. For what seemed an age, he continued to gaze on the boy, studying the unruly shock of brown hair and the blue eyes that seemed too brilliant, too vivid, almost unreal. But then, those young eyes had seen too much. The pain and regret stabbed at his heart. Reluctantly, he looked away.
‘Don’t punish yourself any longer.’ Ellie had seen her father’s suffering. Taking the boy’s hand in her own, she had left the car and crossed the neat, pretty churchyard. Deeply moved by his obvious anguish, she urged, in a gentle, comforting voice, ‘Please… we’ve all said our goodbyes. Can’t we go now?’ She tugged at the sleeve of his shirt. ‘Please.’ There was desperation in her voice.
‘Are we doing the right thing, Ellie?’ He bent his head to look directly into her eyes. A shock thrilled through him as he realised again how incredibly like her mother Ellie was; small, petite. He always had to bend his head to look into her eyes as well. Regrets for what was lost and for what might have been lacerated his insides.
‘It’s the only way,’ Ellie promised, ‘we have to try. We need to… forget.’ The tears threatened. She choked them back. Not in front of her father and Johnny, she thought. Instinctively, she knew they would be looking up to her. She must not let them down.
There was a moment of uneasy silence. Ellie could see her father’s torment. She sensed that Johnny was also watching him closely. When, presently, Jack Armstrong addressed himself to the boy, saying, ‘What about you, Johnny… do you think we’re doing the right thing?’ Ellie felt her brother’s fingers stiffen round her own. She waited for an answer. Her father waited. When the answer came, it was not what either of them expected.
‘I want to go now.’ Johnny instinctively backed away, his face puckered in disgust and his eyes narrowed as he glanced towards the headstone. ‘She smells the same! The same as when I found her. I don’t like that smell. It makes me feel sick!’
‘What are you talking about?’ Ellie clutched his fingers tightly, drawing the trembling boy to her. There was anger in her voice.
Jack Armstrong stepped forward, impatient yet gentle in manner as he asked, ‘Your mother wore a perfume that you didn’t like? Is that what you mean?’ When Johnny hesitated, he demanded, ‘Is it?… Is that what you mean?’ Hesitantly, the boy nodded. His father was stunned.
‘But that’s impossible, Johnny.’ Ellie felt her brother’s terror. Her voice was deliberately calm. ‘Mother never wore perfume. Never.’ Her anxious eyes glanced upwards to see the same disbelief in her father’s ashen face.
‘She did!’ The boy was frantic, tugging to get away, his eyes wild and frightening to see. ‘She wore it that night… and she’s wearing it now!’ He was screaming. ‘Let me go… Let me go!’ With a determined twist of his arm, he had wrenched himself from Ellie’s grasp and was speeding back to the car. Ellie started after him.
‘No! Leave him,’ instructed her father, ‘he’ll be all right… he’s afraid, that’s all.’ He could have said that the ‘perfume’ Johnny had smelled on his mother was probably the peculiar stench of blood. He could have warned Ellie that the boy was still reliving the nightmare in his mind and how it was so real that, even now, just standing close to his mother’s grave, that same awful stench in his nostrils was just as odious as on that night. Jack Armstrong knew. Because the awful events were a nightmare that he himself was struggling to come to terms with. ‘We’ll help him,’ he told Ellie now, ‘you and me together… we’ll get him well, believe me.’ And Ellie did.
From a short distance away, Barny Tyler had witnessed the scene between these three people; one of whom he adored. In a moment he had come forward, a warm, pleasant glow spreading through him when Ellie’s face lit up on seeing who it was. Disentangling herself from her father’s embrace, she ran towards the tall, slim figure that was Barny, her eager eyes taking stock of how attractive he looked in the open-necked shirt that was almost the same chestnut colour as his thick, wayward hair. He looked much younger than his twenty-six years.
‘I guessed you would be here… saying your farewells.’ He told her apologetically, ‘I’m sorry, Ellie. I couldn’t let you go without seeing you just once more.’ His green eyes bathed her face. There was a kind of sadness in his voice, yet it was tinged with hope. ‘Why don’t you stay, Ellie?’ he asked, ‘or is it that you really don’t love me enough?’
‘Don’t. Barny.’ Ellie felt the frustration rising in her. They had gone over this same argument so many times before. And each time it had ended in ill feeling. ‘It isn’t a question of whether I love you… I do! You know that.’
‘Then stay.’
‘No. It wouldn’t work, don’t you see, Barny? Things have changed between us. Oh, I know it’s my fault. But… I can’t think of our future just yet. Trust me… please.’ Now she was convinced that she had made the right decision, not to give Barny the address at their new home; at least not for a while, and maybe never.
Suddenly, the fire was back in his eyes. There were times when he understood, and other times when he didn’t. Like now. ‘I’m asking you to marry me, Ellie,’ he snapped, angrily clasping a hand over the small, trim shoulders and gently shaking her. ‘I want you for my wife. If you say you love me… then nothing should stop us!’
Ellie was taken aback by his outburst. This was the first time ‘marriage’ had seriously entered the argument. It threw her off balance for a minute. But then, she remembered the tragedy that had marred their lives. In her mind’s eye she saw it all. And, for now at least, her answer had to be the same. ‘I can’t commit myself, Barny. Like I said… I must have time to myself, time with my father and Johnny. Just now we need each other. I couldn’t bring myself to desert them. I’m all they have. You must see that?’
‘Yes, I do understand that,’ he conceded, ‘but why must you turn your back on me? I need you too, Ellie. I love you, for God’s sake!’
Ashamed of the pain she was causing him and unable to meet the accusation in those pleading green eyes, Ellie lowered her gaze to the ground. She was desperately torn in two directions, with her own future happiness tugging her towards Barny’s love, and both her conscience and family loyalty insisting that she owed a duty to her mother’s memory. That duty called for her to go south, with little Johnny and her father. Maybe, when they were both settled there? When the two of them were strong enough to come to terms with what had happened? Maybe then, she thought, she could consider her own future with Barny. In that moment something occurred to her, cruelly smothering her optimism. Suppose she herself could not come to terms with what had happened? On that December night in 1955, her mother had been possessed by demons. Ellie had never spoken of her awful suspicions, not to her father or Barny, and certainly not to her young brother. It seemed a sinister, unnatural thing to say, she knew that. But then, what her mother had done was far more unnatural, far more sinister. Only a soul possessed by demons could contemplate such a thing. Her brown eyes darkened with pain as the terrifying images stalked her mind. Horrible images of a broken, bleeding body, of her mother’s wide-open eyes, that were dead, and yet were not. Images of a once beautiful face, and of the eerie tricks the moonlight played on it. Ellie visibly shuddered. ‘I don’t know if you’ll ever understand, Barny,’ she said in a quiet, trembling voice, ‘I have to go with them. I must watch over th
em… for a while at least.’
‘You say you love me?’
‘I do love you, Barny.’ Her heart ached for him; for herself.
‘Then don’t do it to us.’ He sighed as she shook her head, lowering her gaze to the ground and itching to be gone from the awkward situation that loomed between them. ‘All right then!’ he said sharply, his patience at an end. ‘Go if you must… but don’t expect me to wait forever.’ He wanted to shake her. To hurt her. To take her in his arms and love her. ‘Let me come with you. Or at least give me an address where I can contact you.’
‘No.’ She had to resist. She must keep a clear mind.
‘But you’ll write to me, won’t you? Let me visit… spend some time with you?’
‘Later.’ She watched his eyes light up, then close in anguish when she added, ‘Maybe… I don’t know.’
‘Then to hell with you, Ellie! You’ve made it plain enough where I stand.’ He stared at her a moment longer, hoping in his heart that she would relent. He wanted her so much it was like a physical pain. Just for the merest heartbeat, he felt the tension relax between them. ‘Oh, Ellie… Ellie,’ he moaned. In a moment, they were kissing. Her warmth against him was like a heady wine, stirring his senses and flooding him with hope.
The moment was dashed when she pulled away. ‘I will write,’ she murmured.
‘Soon?’
‘I hope so.’ Ellie saw that he was about to plead once more. She put a gentle finger to his lips. ‘Don’t… please,’ she warned. ‘Give me the time I ask for. I don’t want to promise anything beyond that.’
He took her hand in his. ‘How much time, Ellie? For God’s sake… how long am I to wait?’
‘I don’t know. I’m sorry, Barny… but they’re ready. I have to go now.’
‘I will find you, Ellie… I will!’
‘If you do, there’ll be no future for us.’ She glanced towards the car. They were watching, waiting. ‘Goodbye, Barny.’ She reached up to kiss his lips. ‘I won’t hold you to anything,’ she murmured against his mouth, ‘but I do love you. Remember that.’ Before he could reply, she hurried away. And though her heartbeat was quickened and the urge to glance back was strong inside her, she went on at a faster pace, climbing into the car and cuddling Johnny to her, deliberately forcing Barny from her thoughts. Yet, try as she might, she could not oust him from her heart.
No Mercy Page 1