Fiona

by D Attrill

  “Go on, Bex, get it in. Yes.” Leyton talked off her own tensions as the barricade was swiftly strengthened.

  They both heard the pounding.

  “GRROWFFRRRRRGHHH.”

  The creature came slamming at them again, causing the first board to buckle completely. Becky got the second driven in, just in time. The first collapsed, clean in half, as the whole conglomeration took a further ram. Both tried holding down the second one with their foot for a few seconds. They finally released it, slowly.

  A big mistake!

  It buckled slightly then shot out, hitting Leyton in the chest and face.

  Both Becky and her leapt to their feet as the bedroom door came fully off its tongue.

  The Rottweiler got its head round, briefly. The jaws snapped relentlessly with every syllable that it growled.

  Becky had begun taunting it back with a bit of the broken cupboard panel, before managing to close it fully out once more.

  “Becks, get this.”

  Leyton knew a better way, albeit one that she’d saved as a last resort. She pushed the full tallboy towards the door. Her friend took hold at her end and heaved it backwards towards her. Just as they got to halfway, an almighty shunt from the Rottweiler sent the door flying open, the handle hitting Becky right in the rib.

  Both women let go of the tallboy in shock. As they turned to look again, it was beginning to teeter forward, taking the brunt of the impact less well. Leyton caught it in a hurry, only to realise she’d used her injured hand. As her wrist bent the wrong way under pressure, she let go.

  The cupboard keeled forward then fell down flat, disintegrating all over the carpet.

  The crashing brought the inevitable reaction from the Rottweiler.

  Becky was already fetching a small bedside table across but this also became to no avail - it toppled over, leaving only a damaged drawer in her hand.

  “This leaves only the bed.” Becky was looking at it.

  “If we can tip all that crap off it first.” Leyton wasn’t feeling quite that strong.

  “It might be quicker to bring all that crap over, itself.”

  Becky was pointing out the various bags and boxes of stuff Fiona looked not to have unpacked.

  “Here, have this.”

  She passed over a heavy looking cardboard box for Leyton to take. It contained a folded lightweight lawnmower, probably belonging to Fiona’s partner. Not delaying to ponder what it was doing in someone’s upstairs bedroom, Leyton lodged it in where the cupboard doors had been.

  “Another one... just to play it safe?”

  Becky was trying to pass across an old portable TV. Leyton tried to lean across and collect it but then lost her coordination and fell down over the decimated cupboard.

  “Jesus Christ, Jo, are you OK?” she asked, hauling Leyton upright.

  “Just tripped over something I think.” Leyton tried to sound uninjured.

  “Looks like it was this.” Becky picked up an object from near the door. It was the green Squeezie Shape, that had been guilty.

  “That thing must have kicked it in here again, by accident.”

  “I’m more interested in the colour, Becks.”

  She showed Becky both the green and the red Shapes together.

  “These two hues always held a dog's attention.” She remembered it all as she recited it “Dad’s old Alsatian, Ahab always stuck his nose up at a blue or purple; but a red or green, we rarely got back unless he became exhausted.” She saw that Becky was looking scarcely the wiser. “I’m just saying, we could try tempting our current nemesis… so long as we can achieve the feat at arm’s length.”

  “I’m sure I saw some sticks in the corner yesterday.” Becky was already fishing around stuff on the bed. She pulled up a pair of bean canes. They bound together with at least two yards of string.

  “You got that seen to soon enough, didn’t you?” Leyton admired her efforts.

  She left Becky to organise the bait while taking another look through the hole. The Rottweiler was right down at the other end, by the top stair. The door directly behind it was slightly ajar.

  “Where’s he sitting?” Becky asked.

  “Straight outside the bathroom. Handy actually.”

  Leyton turned to examine Becky’s assembled contraption; the cane arranged like a fishing rod, with the two Squeezie Shapes suspended by a yard of string from the end.

  “For what?” Becky asked.

  “Throwing the Squeezie Shapes over him and then shutting him in with them.”

  “You’ve got to be joking. You saw how he brought that door handle down?” Becky had obviously seen enough. “I managed to get that bathroom door open with just my little finger.”

  “What else then?” This was severely testing Leyton.

  “The bathroom’s got a door that bolts, but also a window that doesn’t.” her friend carried on “I could lock myself momentarily in there, and then just leap out, once he’s occupied.”

  “On one condition.” Leyton only just accepted. “You let me pull off this one instead.”

  “Jo you can’t”

  “It was my fault you were left behind to begin with.”

  “That’s no reason to inflict this on yourself.” Becky didn’t look like she’d lap up this sort of talk.

  “I think I’m due a taste of my own medicine.”

  “Oh God, if you’ve got to...” She finally gave up. “What do you need me to do then?”

  “Dive clear, at the first second possible.” Leyton commanded “Close any door you can, between yourself and the stairs, as soon as you get down there. Just in case you’re right.”

  She took a serious survey of the Rottweiler’s current activity. No major movement; twitching of his right ear was the most she got.

  “Take it easy.” she told Becky “Let me get at least five steps in before you set off rolling.”

  Leyton counted down from five while slowly working the door open.

  She took the cane from Becky carefully, and held it as far out in front as she could, while allowing the huge lump to awaken first.

  Having taken one ginormous final breath, she signalled Becky to be ready herself, then leapt in an almighty stride across the landing.

  She lifted the cane higher as the Rottweiler rose to its feet, awakened.

  The mutt leapt right in the air after the toys.

  She pushed the bathroom door open and thrust it through, whilst Becky behind dived over the banister, and hopefully to safety.

  The creature crashed through after the bait. It took it clean out of Leyton’s hold, before landing belly up in the bath with it. As she watched him relapse, smothering his newest treat, Leyton realised what she’d done... she’d got the Rottweiler between herself and the window.

  How the hell would she get round this one?

  Leyton climbed onto the edge of the bath very slowly, whilst watching the creature continue making love to the Squeezie Shapes.

  She sidestepped left, towards the window, keeping her legs spread for balance.

  Still with her eye on the Rottweiler, she then brought her right foot over.

  “No you… don’t you dare...keep playing.” she whispered “Good lad. Tasty toys....enjoy.”

  Leyton got her weight against the window ledge. She moved her left arm very slowly to reach for the latch.

  Just at the same second, a squeak came from beneath her elbow.

  It was obviously louder than the Squeezie Shapes, for the Rottweiler was back up on his toes straight away.

  As it stood, glowering through its gigantic black eyes, she realised she’d leant on a child's rubber duck, concealed at the edge of the window. The dog got to its hind legs, growling.

  The dog got to his hind legs, growling.

  No time to think.

  Grabbing the duck, she threw it upwards.

  The Rottweiler shot right up to catch it, batting it with its paw. As the toy came back down on the carpet, he climbed out after it to continu
e his mauling.

  Coast clear for now, Leyton got right onto the window and fought to get it open.

  The lever was stiff as hell at first try.

  It eventually gave with force, and the window swung open.

  Putting one leg out at a time, she held her breath as she saw the fifteen foot drop to the patio beneath her. She let go of the sill and plummeted, taking what she thought could be her final breath.

  (iii)

  Leyton struggled to come to terms with the fact she was unhurt, never mind free. She helped herself up by the patio door handle, looking down at her trousers for damage.

  It was still hard to contemplate how brave that had been - she’d jumped from higher than twelve feet in the past but the thud on landing had come up through her like an electrical jump jolt.

  As she looked up at the still-open window, she listened to murmured growls from the Rottweiler: evidently miffed over being left without another toy.

  Seeing the shed door tied up with wire gave her a sense of suspicion but before she could investigate deeper, she felt a sudden firm pull to her elbow.

  It forced her to almost draw a fist as she swung round.

  “Becky!” Leyton clutched her throat.

  “I didn’t think you made it.” Her friend hugged her “Everything had suddenly gone quiet up there. I thought you’d become ‘pudding’.

  “I’m not sure he’d have found me that sweet.”

  “Don’t you fancy coming back inside?” she pointed.

  Leyton followed Becky round to where she’d managed to get the door wedged.

  “Jesus almighty!” Leyton went on stepping into the kitchen.

  “It must have been that creature.” Becky was surveying the debris. The table was the only things still upright. All chairs were on their side, the floor littered with food and paper. The waste bin had been pulled over, which was just possibly related.

  Two lumps of dog excrement also lay beneath the table.

  “I don’t know which one that would have been.” Becky was holding her nose. The deposit was obviously fresh.

  “I don’t either but it’s not staying there whilst we’re around.” Leyton looked round for a plastic bag and a scoop, hoping that Fiona had not taken that with her. It appeared she had.

  Grabbing a load of newspaper, Leyton put on some washing gloves she’d found and tried to get it up.

  “Haven’t you got more important things on your mind... maybe such as summoning your loyal police friends?”

  “I would if there was a landline around.” She remembered the mobile signal being next to non-existent.

  “Well that's us fucked then.”

  Becky had picked up a cream coloured telephone, wrapped together with its receiver. Leyton noticed a tattered cord end.

  “Damn that woman!” She frisbeed it furiously across the table. It crashed to the floor, sending paper scattering.

  As she lifted it away, she saw a small batch of bright coloured documents that looked to have been knocked from the table with it.

  Lifting them up, she realised what they were. Ferry tickets. She read the top of the first.

  “‘North Western WaterShuttle – 1 Adult. Liverpool - Belfast Port. Depart 1845’. She’s on her way out, it seems.”

  Fiona was obviously using a ferry instead of flying, so as to avoid detection.

  “Taking my handbag in the process.” said Becky, searching the lounge. She was wailing as if the end of the world was upon her.

  Leyton helped Becky round, desperate to do without another one of her cry-baby acts. No sign of it. Trying all the cushions on the sofa, there was only a small toy to be found hiding.

  “Could you just get the kettle on Jo? I can sort this by myself. You know what I’m like for losing things.”

  “Take it from me,” Leyton found it hard, not to crease up laughing at Fiona’s naivety. “She will get all the way to Liverpool then realise she’s forgotten what’s most useful. By the time she turns round she’ll most likely find the Merseyside constabulary blocking her way to the ticket office.”

  “Shall we get something to eat whilst waiting?” Becky asked.

  “I don’t think you ought to.” Leyton found a mouldy plateful of cheese on toast on the worktop, that was partly cling-wrapped. What resembled cheese certainly did not smell consumable, though maybe consumed.

  “I wouldn’t even feed that to a dog.” She dumped it aside

  “Don’t worry.” Becky looked to optimise “I mean, seeing as Fiona’s supper tonight looks like being off the prison menu we could make use of what she’s left behind. Don’t you agree?”

  “I’d be the first to hate telling you this, sweetheart, but this is now technically speaking, a crime scene.”

  “Meaning?”

  “Meaning, we can’t touch any of Fiona’s things.”

  “Says you who just picked up a pair of washing gloves.” Becky slumped away into the lounge, looking for any other last belongings she might have forgot.

  “Slap yourself on the wrist Joanne.”

  Leyton tried to find a pair of gloves amongst the garbage so she could examine the contents of the fridge. She eventually settled for sliding her hand inside her jumper sleeve and edged the door open delicately, by the top corner. On sifting through the shelves, she found a fairly generous selection. Two packs of sausages, half a large tin of spaghetti hoops in a Tupperware box, salad varieties and also a sizeable jar of pesto were amongst treasures. Such a shame they were now part of a crime scene.

  “Hey! Look at this a second.” Becky sounded amazed as she shouted from the lounge. “Some of her old bus pass photos.”

  She came waltzing into the kitchen waving them.

  “Never told me she used to be blonde.”

  Leyton took it and looked. Two of the set of four had been cut out, as if already used.

  What she saw on the surviving couple, caused to her let go of the kettle.

  She staggered back into a seat.

  She was looking straight into the exact same face as the one sprawled over Abdullah's documents.

  She felt those hardened blue eyes staring salaciously at her right here in this room. Except this time there was no eyeliner to look past. The two photos - obviously older than she believed - had faded, taking it away along with her lipstick, curdling the colour as well. The left of her hair had gone darkish blue, obviously with something resting on it for a while. Leyton looked at the picture, with the image of her whole hair as being dark.

  She could vision that Scottish bird, that dark haired lass with a grey Renault, who'd gathered Gary from outside the station gate, last night.

  Fiona had fluttered in and out of their lair, right beneath her feet.

  Leyton fell back on the seat, shaking her head, trying to make sense of her neglect.

  “No wonder that she’s now living off the grid.” Leyton lambasted herself for her blindness to such blatant deceit. She held her head in both arms.

  “Hey what's up?” Becky had noticed the near-breakdown she was having.

  “Could you fetch my bag over, Becks?”

  “Sure. Do you know where you put it?”

  “On the workto... oh f...”

  Fiona would hardly have stolen Becky’s, but still left hers.

  She clenched her fingers to her face.

  “Shit. What should I do?” Becky applied the usual randomness.

  “Start by getting all this paper up.” Said Leyton “She might have been checking for evidence.”

  Sifting through it, they both found various pieces Leyton recognised. She rummaged for the photocopy Abdullah had given her.

  “What is it you’re after Jo? What was it you need? Tell me.”

  “Say, a useful item - like one that will show you her name is not Fiona McGrogan.”

  “Eh?” Becky walked over and sat down.

  Leyton sat so she was face to face with her, placing the photos flat on the table... “Back in August, this year, a little woman f
rom Rotherham was working as a babysitter… in Glasgow of all places. She, very mysteriously, disappeared one dark, rainy evening. No trace, no body... nothing. Pow!”

  “Well…?”

  “Well, guess whose child she was giving TLC to, at that time?”

  She held the photo up, so Becky could see this face instead of hers.

  “Becky, I give you Elaine Ruth Craig. Currently Scotland’s most wanted.”

  “And my little friend Izzy?”

  “Ismael Thomas Craig, to give his full name. The father’s identity, not yet traced as yet, obviously. I can however vouch for the fact he’s not eighteen months old… more in the region of say, eight.”

  Becky sat there looking white as a ghost - if not whiter. All of a sudden, she keeled forward and threw up in front of Leyton.

  “Becks, what's wrong?” The reaction was delayed, as if Becky had also suffered an additional dose of trauma.

  “You’d better come to the sh... the...shed.”

  Leyton looked out towards the front as Becky headed up the lawn.

  “All clear Becks.”

  She followed on up to the shed.

  Becky was busy ripping away barricades that Fiona had obviously put in place.

  “I hope you’ve got something you can stick on your nose.” Becky looked round with an unassuming smirk. “Even what that thing did downstairs smells better than what’s in here.”

  “We detectives stand up to all sorts Becks.”

  Leyton stood as she smashed the door inwards then let Becky lead her in.

  “Careful where you step...” Becky warned “Get right to the side if you can.

  “I just hope Greg doesn’t go to the same carpentry class as her.”

  Leyton lifted one of the planks slightly up, allowing Becky to slide a spade beneath. Leyton then heaved it slowly away. She almost dropped it on what she was shown below. A corpse lay in all its decaying glory, right beneath her feet. Climbing into the hole nearest the head’s end, she studied its face. The curly, faded hair coughed up remnants of a sandy brown it might once have been. A substantial enough supply of flesh remained to recognise the victim as a woman. Knocking away some dust exposed a shredded polo shirt, possibly once black. She felt a sharp, plastic edge around the upper chest. It was a card...a name badge of some sort. Paula Radcombe had also worn one in her own ill-fated occupation. The words ‘ClydeCare’ could just be made out in faded green. There was a ragged line of Tippex across the bottom half of the badge. She grabbed a steel filing tool from the floor and tried to scrape this away without applying her own DNA.