by Anne Lown
Now, she clicked the pen, exposing the nib. Words flowed with the ink, cascading over the page. She had to record her last day here, the last time she was ever a kicking post for this dreadful village. Her pen stopped mid-flow.
How had she known?
Mrs Selby had shot her down, and quickly, in Annalise’s attempt to put things right. It was like the woman had already known what she was going to say and about whom. That was the bit that irked her—Mrs Selby was defending an abuser and making Annalise out to be the bad guy. Annalise shook her head; the whole thing was a nightmare, and everyday she’d been wishing she could wake up.
She put down her diary and picked up the notebook from the village hall. Her stomach fluttered before she’d opened the first page. The words written inside mocked her experiences. Whoever had written it enjoyed the telling of their story, savouring every description in detail. It scared her to think they took such pleasure from their victims, each despicable deed relivable at a whim.
But what do I do with it?
Annalise returned to her diary. Her fingers trembled when she wrote the words, her emotions oozing out with the ink. She tried to steady her nerve—it’d be no good if someone found it and couldn’t read what she’d written. It’d be her protection; no one could deny the truth.
She finished the page with an account of what she’d found, but not who she’d send it to. It was safer that way. Then if her diary became unearthed before the police could do something, the crimes couldn’t be buried. Annalise slipped her diary into a large envelope and wrote the recipient’s name on the front. Inside she enclosed a note begging the receiver to keep it safe from prying eyes. She hoped they could be trusted.
Next, she did the same with the book she’d taken from the village hall, but the recipient was someone else. A person who’d read it and would hopefully take action. Expose these monsters and get the victims the justice they deserved. She stuck on more stamps than needed—nothing could hinder her plan.
Annalise closed the front door behind her and walked towards the high street. There was a post box outside the four shops that serviced the community. She’d have to mail her letters there and wait for the collection on Monday morning. If they were in the pillar box they’d be safe. She flitted her gaze along the street, watching for signs of movement. The chance of seeing someone she knew heightened her senses. Each sound and distraction tingled in her fingers and toes, the fear of being caught making her dizzy.
Her heart was pounding when she reached her destination. It took moments to slip the envelopes inside the opening near the top of the box, but her hands shook anyway. Each thud from the books hitting the bottom was music to her ears. Now they were safe, and she could leave in peace.
“Hey, you,” someone called out from a short distance away.
She hoped they hadn’t seen what she’d been doing. Annalise turned around to find Jason ambling towards her. She put on a brave face and smiled. That was a mistake. Jason stopped in his tracks and looked at her, a question shadowing his narrowing eyes. He was right to appear confused. She hadn’t smiled in a while, so to do so now had probably alerted him to something being different, maybe even something being wrong.
“I was coming to see you.” It was a lie, but what else could she say? She didn’t like to go out unless she was in his company. He was her safety and he’d been away for the morning seeing his mum.
Jason regained his momentum and held out a carrier bag. “Guess where I’ve been before I got the bus back?”
Annalise stared at the white plastic with the familiar logo on the front. It was obvious—the dog with the wind-up disc gramophone said it all. “What did you buy?”
“That one by Cutting Crew, the group I told you about, from nineteen eighty-six.”
Annalise laughed. “That’s not New Romantic. A bit too late in the eighties, don’t you think?”
Jason dipped his head, and a boyish smile spread across his face. He’d had a bit of an obsession since he’d been listening to his uncle’s music. He’d fallen in love with the sounds of the early eighties and the style from then. When people pointed out how similar he was to a certain pop star, he took the passion to a whole new level. No one could tell him the group and their singer came a few years later, he just wouldn’t have it. His hair had morphed from a Billy Idol lookalike to Nick Van Eede.
“Are you going to play it for me?”
Annalise needn’t have asked. Jason had a thing for inflicting his taste in music on any unsuspecting fool who’d let him. A thought struck her: this was the last day she’d be with him, the end of their friendship. A lump formed in her throat. Tears were the next step, so she forced herself to think of something else. He couldn’t find out she was leaving, that would likely break his heart. She forced a smile onto her lips and strolled with him to his uncle’s house; they would listen to the album together.
His uncle’s front garden was a mess of weeds. The man had no affinity for gardening or taking care of the house. She followed Jason through the side gate and into the back garden—it was just like the front. The back door opened on the first try. His uncle never thought to lock it, so Jason didn’t need a key. There wasn’t much inside to steal. The kitchen amounted to a sink unit and a cooker, with a sideboard housing the kitchen utensils. The fridge hummed in the corner, a miracle it was still running. As for the table, the two chairs that surrounded it had seen better days.
They carried on through into the living room. A hi-fi stood against the far wall, its cabinet beneath and either side full of albums from the seventies and eighties. His uncle was keen on music, too, each disc lovingly cared for, kept straight in its sleeve and flat against the others. Annalise liked to sit on the floor and watch Jason carefully select their listening material. The song had to match his mood, his emotions ruling his waking hours. Right at that moment he was happy. The party later that day had so far been the highlight of his week.
“I’m taking some albums with me,” Jason said, “see if they let me play them.”
Annalise nodded. She knew how important it was for him to share what he loved. “Did you ask if you could?”
Jason wrinkled his nose. “I was hoping to sneak them in. You know that old bird, Mrs Selby, would say no. She’s got no taste in music.”
“Or she just doesn’t like us.” The words slipped out before she’d realised she’d said them.
“What makes you think that?”
She glanced up from pulling at the threads on her jeans. “Just a feeling, nothing really.”
Jason turned back to sorting through his pile. “This one’s a must, they’d better let me play it.” He was holding up Duran Duran’s first album, self-titled Duran Duran. It was a favourite of his; she was surprised his constant playing hadn’t worn it out.
“Are you sure you trust them with it? I wouldn’t want it to get broken.”
“What’s wrong? You’re so negative today.”
Annalise shrugged. What could she say? He’d find out soon enough. She gave herself a reality check and perked up. If this was their last day together, the least she could do was enjoy herself, then she’d have a happy memory of him. She loved it when he smiled. He dipped his head again, and the grin crept across his face while he looked up at her from under his impossibly long eyelashes.
“Go on then, put the new one on.” She leant back onto her right elbow and put her hand under her chin. They would have about forty-five minutes with no talking while each track played. She knew better than to speak or the disc would be started all over again. Each musical moment had to be savoured, it was just the way he was.
He lay on the carpet alongside her, his hands behind his head. Jason closed his eyes and made no movement except the rise and fall of his chest as he breathed. She followed suit, rolling onto her back and copying his position. The first track played. She closed her eyes and found herself drifting with the melody, the words washing through her mind. At that moment, Annalise felt at peace.
The last track on the album ended. It took a moment for her to notice the silence. She opened her eyes and turned her head to see Jason watching her. A smile spread when she gazed at him.
“You are coming to the party, aren’t you?” Concern etched his brow. He clearly didn’t want to go without her—another reason she was waiting until that night to leave the village. She knew he’d be upset if she wasn’t there.
“Of course,” she said.
Annalise reached out her hand and used her finger to smooth the skin on his forehead. It lingered a moment, before she slid her fingertips down the side of his face and under his chin. She moved forward enough to kiss him, a tender touching of their lips that lasted barely a moment.
He took her hand and squeezed it. “It’ll all be okay.”
She smiled back but didn’t share the feeling. For Annalise, nothing would be the same again. “I’d better move. My mum will be home soon.” She got up to go but stopped at the living room door. “Call round later, then we can go together.” She watched for his nod, a sign he’d understood her intention, then she left the house alone.
Back at home, her own front door stood open. She stepped inside, listening for signs of where her mother was. A cupboard closed in the kitchen, the wood banging against the unit to which it was attached. Annalise placed her palm on the door handle, hesitating to push it down and face the woman she needed to speak to. The conversation at the village hall had not gone well. The chances were this one wouldn’t either, but she had to try. She took a deep breath then exhaled slowly, trying to steady her nerves. The handle moved without her doing anything—her mother swung back the door.
“You left the front door open,” Annalise said.
Her mother ignored her comment and brushed past. Annalise swivelled to see where she was going. Only into the cupboard under the stairs. She was rummaging about in the chest freezer, the place they kept anything that couldn’t fit into the fridge. Annalise stood aside when her mother returned and went to the kitchen sink with a frozen chicken for the next day’s dinner.
So she’d been shopping, then. I thought she had no money?
Annalise waited, but still no conversation came.
“I’m going to the party later.” She bit her lip. Getting her mother’s attention was like pulling teeth. How could she talk to her about important things if the woman wouldn’t listen to anything else she said?
“Not with that Jason you’re not.” Her head rotated slightly in her direction, but she didn’t stop what she was doing.
“Then who with? It’s not like I’ve got many friends.”
“And who’s fault is that?” This time she did turn around, apparent dissatisfaction hardening her expression at the child she’d raised.
Tears stung the backs of Annalise’s eyes.
I’m going to damn well tell her whether she wants to hear it or not.
“Some things have been happening. Not nice things.”
Her mother snorted. “What, more of your stories?”
Her words were like a slap in the face. “I don’t tell lies.”
“You don’t tell the truth either. Mrs Selby phoned earlier. Told me you were spreading rumours. Is that how it’s going to be? More trouble at our door?”
“They’re not lies. I can prove it.” Annalise went to go and get the book she’d found in the village hall kitchen but stopped short. She felt defeated.
I posted it.
She spun back and faced her mother. “Why don’t you believe me, your own daughter?”
“You stopped being a daughter of mine the moment you turned eighteen.”
Annalise’s energy dissipated. Her limbs seemed to weigh more than a moment ago; they were an effort to move. She slumped her shoulders and stared down at her limp hands. It was no good. Nothing she said was ever believed, and things at home would never be right. She sighed. It seemed like her plans were going ahead. She glanced up at her mother and saw the defiance in her face. She was determined to think of her as the bad person everyone said she was. This was the final straw to break her camel’s back. There was nothing to stay for, even Jason wasn’t enough. Annalise sighed again and left the room.
Jason would be calling soon, and she’d promised to spend the evening with him. She ascended the stairs and went to her room. With reluctance, she got ready for the party. It was the last place she wanted to be, but if she didn’t go it might scupper her plans. She changed from her jeans into a dress she’d had for a while. None of her clothes were new, but always from the charity shop in the high street. It was called Charity Begins at Home. She let out a whimper. There was no charity for her.
Someone knocked at the front door. Jason had arrived. He’d never known her mother despised him, and Annalise had no intention of saying anything. His demeanour was always polite and courteous, there was nothing for her mother to hate. Jason was a delicate soul, and he needed help, not hindrance. She’d miss him when she was gone. Would he miss her? Would any of them miss her? Tears stung again, and she fought them off. There was no time for weeping—that could wait until later.
She saw him from midway down the stairs. He was dressed in what he considered his latest outfit of eighties-style fashion. An open trench coat was layered over his t-shirt and jeans, leg warmers at his ankles. Annalise stifled a giggle; his hair was teased more than ever. He’d no idea how ridiculous he looked, but she wasn’t about to tell him.
“Are you ready?” He stood there clutching his albums.
What if they get broken, what then?
Annalise didn’t say anything; it was obviously a risk he was willing to take. She smiled and trod down the final few steps. The sound of her mother in the kitchen reached her in the hallway; the woman wasn’t bothering to see them off. It was hard to ignore the lack of love, but it was nothing new. She stepped through the front door and closed it behind her. If earlier was the last time she saw her mother alive, then so be it, the woman had made her choice.
“Let’s go.”
The walk to the party was filled with people going the same way. Annalise slipped her arm through Jason’s and hung on to him. He didn’t seem to be displeased by the gesture. They didn’t rush, they’d be there soon enough. A group assembled at the entrance. The queue was a loose gathering with no one pushing to get in. They hung back until the throng moved into the hall. Annalise and Jason entered behind the last of those waiting.
He held his albums a little higher, so she knew what he meant. “I’m going to see if these can be played.”
Annalise watched him go, suddenly feeling alone in the crowd. She saw a few of the women farther in watching her and talking behind their hands. Weakness caught her knees. She retracted her arms, bringing them close to her torso to steady herself. Annalise lifted her chin and turned away, not wanting them to ruin her fun.
There was laughter resonating from the outside area where most of the partygoers drifted to. She went to the doorway, in search of a quiet corner to hide. If no one bothered her she might make it through the evening. She could only hope.
The sinking sun sent dappled light through the surrounding trees. Tables had been set out for people to sit at with folding chairs aplenty. She pulled one away from the crowd and sat. People chatted while the barbecue was attended to. There would be a huge cook-off, the villagers all bringing lumps of meat and sausages to share with the salads and cakes. The smell of coal heating had her choking, and she coughed a few times. She would have to move, the smoky slight breeze forcing her from her spot.
Annalise dragged her chair over to the woods on the other side of the opening. Jason could see her from there if he searched hard enough, it wasn’t like she’d left the area. She sat sideways on and leant her left arm on the back of the chair. All around her people were talking and milling about. The crowd was gathering in the outside space, no one wanting to stay in the hall with such lovely weather. Music drifted in her direction, an old country and western song she didn’t recognise. Maybe Jason hadn’
t got his own way yet, only time would tell.
Her muscles jittered at a presence behind her. She swivelled her head to see who it was, and the angry face of Martin stared back. Annalise twisted around on the chair, a feeling of dread surfacing. She hadn’t thought about him since she’d been at the pond. He didn’t seem happy to see her.
Martin reached down to grab her shoulder. “Where is it?”
Annalise squirmed free and stood. “Where’s what?”
“That book, I want it.”
She took a step back, trying to put some distance between them. All around people were busy in their conversations, no one seeming to notice the hate in his expression or the way he spoke to her. She might as well have been alone with him in that field. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Annalise turned away, scouring the area for Jason. She wished he’d hurry up and find her. Something grabbed the front of her dress. She looked down to see Martin’s large fingers digging into the material and twisting it. Her hands flew automatically to the site, and she tried to prise his fingers free, but they were too strong, she couldn’t release them. She glanced back at his face, shocked to see the sneer spreading across it—he was enjoying her discomfort. Even in the crowd, he wasn’t afraid to abuse her, and why would he be? No one came to her aid. Panic set in, and frightened, she darted her eyes this way and that, scanning the partygoers for someone, anyone, to help her.
“Get your hands off her.”
The familiar voice brought waves of comfort. Jason was coming to her rescue. She flicked her attention to where she’d heard it; he was striding through the bodies, brushing past people in his way and drawing awareness to her situation. More people were staring, forcing Martin to release her dress. She fell back and landed on the ground. The bump jarred her tailbone, but it was a relief to be free. Jason’s hand gripped her arm, and he helped her to her feet.