by Kevin Brooks
So I called Deefer and stomped off down the lane, and I didn’t slow down until I’d made myself good and angry again.
The trouble was, as soon as the woods came in sight the anger turned to trepidation and I couldn’t bring myself to go any further. I tried, but each time I got to the gap in the hedge my legs turned to jelly and I couldn’t breathe properly. When I turned back, I felt all right again. But I didn’t want to go back. In the end I just sat on a rotten log for the best part of an hour while Deefer stared at me and whined.
The rest of the day passed fairly quietly. Dad got on with his writing, Dominic stayed in his room, and I just pottered about trying to make myself feel normal again. At first, I didn’t think it was possible. There were just too many things going on in my head, things I didn’t know how to deal with: there was Lucas, Jamie, Simon, Bill, Dominic, Dad; there were confused feelings of desire, hate, pain, ignorance and doubt; there were memories of the past and fears for the future; and then there was me. Caitlin McCann. What was I? What was I doing? Where was I going? Was I innocent? guilty? foolish? gullible? Was I true to myself …?
All these things were connected, but at the same time they didn’t fit together. They were out of sync. It was like one of those puzzles where you have to slide the little tiles around to make a picture. All the bits are there, but until you get them in the right order you can’t see what the picture is supposed to be. So that’s what I tried to do – get the bits in order.
As the afternoon wore on I just kept moving all the bits around in my head, trying to fit them together. But, unlike a plastic puzzle, these bits didn’t keep still. They kept shifting around and changing shape. I’d work on two or three bits, get them sorted out, fix them together, and then I’d leave them for a while to go off and look at some other bits. But by the time I’d sorted those bits out, the original bits didn’t fit any more. They’d become something else. And then, when I went back to working on them again, the other bits started to change.
It was infuriating.
I kept at it, though, and by early evening I was pretty sure I’d got everything as clear as I was going to get it. It was still a bit shaky, a bit out of focus, but all the bits were in place and I could finally see the whole picture. The only thing was, it was an abstract picture, and no matter how hard I looked I still couldn’t work out what it was supposed to be.
Later that night, around ten o’clock, Lenny Craine came round. I was in the bath when he arrived. The radio was playing quietly and the bathroom was filled with steam. I heard Dad open the door, I heard them go into the sitting room, and then I heard Dominic going downstairs to join them. The sitting room is directly beneath the bathroom, so I turned off the radio and lay still, trying to hear what they were talking about. But all I could hear was a chink of glasses and a low muffled mumbling through the floor-boards.
I turned the radio back on and sank my head beneath the water.
Forget it, I told myself. Ignore them. What do you care what they’re talking about? It’s probably nothing, anyway. It’s just Lenny popping round for a quick drink … maybe a few quick drinks … a quiet chat … it’s nothing … nothing to do with you …
I sat up and rinsed soap from my hair.
… and even if it is something to do with you, you don’t really want to know right now, do you? Let it wait. Go to bed. You’re tired. Tomorrow’s Saturday. You’ve got to get up early in the morning for the festival. You don’t want to go downstairs … imagine it … they’ll all be sitting around smoking cigarettes and drinking beer and talking about fishing or books or something … Dominic, Dad and Lenny … having a laugh …
What do you want with that?
I got out of the bath and stood in front of the mirror and told myself to shut up. Then I quickly dried my hair and put on a dressing gown and went downstairs.
In the sitting room the curtains were open and a full moon was shining brightly through the window. It was a tidal moon, hanging low in the sky, as bright and clear as a pale white sun. Dad was standing at the window, Dominic was in the armchair, and Lenny was slumped heavily on the settee. Everyone had drinks in their hands and serious looks on their faces.
The room was heavy with silence.
Dad turned from the window and smiled at me. It was a good effort – but it didn’t fool me. The biggest smile in the world wouldn’t have been enough to hide the tension in his eyes.
‘Do you want a glass of wine?’ he asked.
I nodded.
‘Dom?’ he said.
‘I’ll get it,’ said Dominic.
I went over and sat next to Lenny. He was out of uniform, dressed in a loose khaki shirt and baggy old trousers.
‘Hello, Cait,’ he said. ‘Looking forward to the festival?’ His voice had that forced chirpiness that usually means bad news.
I nodded. ‘Are you going?’
‘Of course,’ he grinned. ‘Someone’s got to keep the peace. You know what these environmental terrorists are like when they get out of hand. The RSPCA, Cats Protection League, the Women’s Institute …’
I smiled as best as I could.
Dominic came over with another beer for Lenny and a glass of wine for me. As he passed it over he gave me a ‘be careful’ look. Seeing as I didn’t have a clue what I was supposed to be careful about, I thought it was a pretty stupid thing to do. I kept my eye on him as he sat down in the armchair and lit a cigarette, hoping he might give me a hint, but his face was expressionless. I took a sip of wine and looked at Dad. He was standing at the window sipping his whiskey and watching me like a hawk.
‘Where did you get that?’ he said suddenly.
‘What?’
He nodded. ‘That cut on your knee.’
I looked down. The hem of my dressing gown had slipped to one side revealing the bruised gash on my knee. ‘On the beach,’ I said quickly. ‘I slipped over – there was a metal stake or something buried in the sand …’
Dad stared at me. ‘When?’
‘I can’t remember … yesterday, I think.’
‘Why didn’t you tell me?’
I shrugged. ‘It’s just a cut.’
He gave me a long, hard look. ‘Is there anything else you haven’t told me?’
‘About what?’
‘Lucas.’
I glanced at Dominic. He was staring into thin air. I looked back at Dad. ‘What’s this all about?’ I said.
‘You tell me.’
‘There’s nothing to tell.’
‘When did you last see him?’
‘I don’t know … a couple of days ago. I saw him down at the creek. Why?’
Dad took a drink of whiskey and Lenny took over the questioning. ‘When exactly was this, Cait?’
‘I just said – a couple of days ago.’
‘Wednesday? Thursday …?’
I looked at him, then at Dad.
Dad said, ‘Just tell him what day it was, Cait.’
I had to think about it. We were sitting at the creek, the creek was almost still. The sun’s reflection was rippling on the surface and a pair of swans floated motionlessly at the water’s edge … it seemed a long time ago.
‘Wednesday,’ I said.
‘Are you sure?’
‘It was Wednesday.’
‘What was he doing?’
‘Nothing … I just bumped into him at the creek. He wasn’t doing anything.’
‘Did you talk to him?’
‘Yes.’
‘What about?’
‘I can’t remember … just stuff, you know. Nothing important.’
Lenny rubbed his mouth. ‘Did anything happen?’
‘Like what?’
‘Did he …’
‘Did he what?’
Dad came over and knelt down in front of me. ‘Did he touch you, love?’
‘What? What do you mean – touch me? What the hell are you talking about?’
Lenny said, ‘I’m sorry, Cait. We have to ask—’
; ‘Why?’ I snapped. ‘What’s it got to do with you?’
Dad put his hand on my knee. ‘All right, Cait—’
‘No,’ I said angrily. ‘It’s not all right. What’s going on?
Why are you asking me all these stupid questions?’
Lenny answered. ‘There’s been another complaint about Lucas.’ I turned to look at him, knowing what he was going to say before he said it. He went on. ‘A young girl was indecently assaulted near the cliffs this afternoon. She’s given us a fairly good description of her attacker …’
‘And you think it was Lucas?’
Lenny nodded. ‘Young boy, short to medium height, blond hair, green clothes, carrying a canvas bag …’
‘This girl,’ I said. ‘Who was it?’
Lenny looked at Dad.
Dad said, ‘Angel Dean.’
I laughed, I couldn’t help it. ‘Angel Dean?’
Dad frowned at me. ‘It’s not funny, Cait. He had a knife. She said he threatened her—’
‘She would.’
‘Pardon?’
I sighed. ‘She’s lying, Dad. She’s making it up. Lucas didn’t do anything to her. He wouldn’t go anywhere near her. She’s lying. It’s obvious.’
Lenny said, ‘Why would she do that?’
‘Because …’ I suddenly realised that I couldn’t tell them why. If I told them why, I’d have to tell them everything. And if I told them everything … well, I’d have to tell them everything.
‘When did this so-called assault take place?’ I asked.
‘About two o’clock,’ Lenny said.
‘Have you asked Lucas where he was?’
‘We haven’t been able to find him yet.’
I took a deep breath. ‘He was with me.’
Two pairs of eyes bored into me.
I looked at Dad. ‘When I went out with Deefer today … you remember? We went down to the beach. We met Lucas and went for a walk. I was with him from about half past one until half past two.’
‘Why didn’t you say so earlier?’ Dad asked.
I shrugged. ‘I don’t know.’
‘You don’t know?’ Lenny said. ‘I didn’t feel like it.’
‘Come on, Cait—’
‘I was with him,’ I said flatly. ‘He couldn’t have done it. I was with him.’
Lenny shook his head. ‘We’re still going to have to bring him in.’
‘On what evidence? Have you got any evidence?’
Lenny looked at me. ‘Angel told us who it was, Cait. She described him—’
‘Any forensic evidence? Any injuries? Bruising, skin under her fingernails, blood, fluids … anything like that?’
‘Cait!’ Dad exclaimed.
I kept my eyes on Lenny. ‘Have you got anything?’
Lenny looked at me. ‘Not yet.’
‘Isn’t that a bit odd?’
‘Maybe … it’s not unheard of …’
‘But you’d expect to find something, wouldn’t you?’
He nodded. ‘Usually.’
‘Maybe you ought to ask Angel for some more details,’ I suggested. ‘Examine her a bit more closely.’
‘Listen, Cait, if you know something—’
‘All I know is Lucas didn’t do it. He wouldn’t do it. Believe me – he’s not like that. And anyway, like I said, he was with me. If you want me to make a statement, I’ll make one. If you want me to testify, I will.’ I looked at Dad. ‘He didn’t do it.’
They carried on asking me questions for a while but I didn’t have anything else to say. No, I didn’t know where Lucas was. No, I didn’t know if he was still on the island. No, I didn’t know where he’d go if he left the island … I didn’t know anything. Which was pretty much the truth. They weren’t very happy about it, but then neither was I.
I figured that made us just about even.
Before he left, Lenny took me to one side and had a quiet word in my ear. ‘Don’t push your luck, Cait. I like you and I like your dad. You’re good people. I’m glad to have you as friends. But I’m still a police officer. I’ve got a job to do. There’s only so far I can go – do you understand?’
‘You can go as far as you want,’ I said.
He looked at me. Disappointment showed in his eyes. ‘Ah, Cait,’ he sighed. ‘I thought you were one of the good ones.’
That surprised me. I don’t suppose it should have, but it did. It hurt me, too. It wasn’t fair. I was one of the good ones, that’s why I was doing what I was doing. I was trying to do what was best … I was good …
Wasn’t I?
I lowered my eyes and looked at the floor.
I just didn’t know any more.
Dad showed Lenny to the door, leaving me alone with Dominic for a minute. As soon as I heard the front door open I leaned forward in my seat.
‘Do they know anything?’ I whispered.
‘About what?’ he said.
‘Anything.’
He frowned. ‘I don’t think so.’
‘Did Lenny say anything about Tait or Brendell?’
‘Not to me … I gave him the story about Brendell hitting me with a pool cue but he didn’t seem too bothered about it.’ He glanced nervously at the door. ‘This thing with Angel and Lucas—’
‘Tait set it up – didn’t you know?’
He shook his head. ‘I thought he was joking. I didn’t think he’d—’
The front door slammed.
Dominic looked at me.
‘Don’t say anything,’ I hissed. ‘Just don’t—’
Dad entered the room and stood in the doorway looking at us. There wasn’t much affection his eyes. As I waited for him to say something my mind strayed back to the day before when I was alone with Lucas at the edge of the woods, when I’d felt as if I’d been there before and that Lucas was someone else … and as I thought about it the same strange feeling came over me again. Only this time it was even more mixed up. I couldn’t tell if this was the moment I’d been thinking about then, and that Dad was the someone else, or if then was the moment I was thinking about now, and that Lucas was someone else … someone familiar … and we were talking about secrets …
I’m not a child.
‘Cait?’ said Dad.
I looked at him. ‘I’m not …’
‘You’re not what?’
I shook my head. ‘Nothing. I was just … it’s nothing.’
At a signal from Dad, Dominic got up and left the room. Dad watched him go, closed the door, then came over and sat down next to me. The settee sagged in the middle and drew us close together.
Dad put his hand on my knee. ‘I think it’s time we had a little chat.’
Now that we were alone I was afraid my instincts would take over and I’d break down and blurt out the truth. It was the natural thing for me to do, the way I’d always coped in the past, and I didn’t think I was capable of resisting it. I didn’t think I had the guts … or the lack of them. But in the end it wasn’t as hard as I thought.
Dad wasn’t angry. Or, if he was, he didn’t show it. Even when I didn’t answer his questions he remained in control. He didn’t shout, he didn’t fume, he didn’t go crazy. In fact, his eyes were so steady and his voice so calm, I almost had trouble staying awake. There were a lot of questions – questions about Lucas, questions about Dominic, questions about Angel. But mostly the questions were about me – what are you feeling? what are you thinking? what’s wrong? why are you lying? why don’t you trust me? what do you want? what do you want me to do? how can I help? are you sad? happy? ill? lonely? jealous? bored? angry? … They were questions I’d been asking myself since I was old enough to think, and I couldn’t have answered them even if I’d wanted to. So I did what a confused teenage daughter is supposed to do – I stared silently at the wall, distant and incapable, and wished that things were different.
I know I ought to have said something, if only to put Dad’s mind at rest, but I just couldn’t find it in me. I couldn’t find the words. My mind kept dr
ifting away. I don’t know where it went. I don’t even know what I was thinking about. I was too tired. I couldn’t concentrate. My thoughts were vaporous and indistinct.
It must have been about midnight when I realised that Dad had stopped talking. He was just sitting there with his arm around me staring out of the window. The moon had moved on and the room was dark and quiet. I leaned against him and looked up into his eyes.
‘I’m sorry,’ I said.
He smiled. ‘I know you are. We’ll talk about it tomorrow. Right now, I think you’d better get some sleep.’
I kissed him goodnight and left him sitting alone in the dark.
fifteen
T
he next day I got up early and showered and then started getting ready for the festival. It was only about seven o’clock, but the heat of the sun was already fierce and it looked as if it meant to stay that way. The sky was high and blue and there was barely a breath of wind in the air. It was a day for shorts and a vest, but I was still conscious of the cut on my knee and the bruise on my arm, so I dressed in a pair of cropped trousers and a long-sleeved top. I started fiddling around with my hair, trying to do something a bit special with it, but after a while I got fed up looking at myself in the mirror and I gave up on it. I wasn’t really in the mood for looking nice anyway. What was the point? Whatever I wore and whatever I did to my hair, I’d still be a sweaty mess by the end of the day. Besides, it was only a stupid little festival. It was nothing to get excited about. Nothing was going to happen.
Lucas wasn’t going to be there.
He wasn’t stupid. He’d know the police were looking for him, and he’d also know that that was the least of his worries. Angel’s story would have got around by now, and with Jamie’s help it would have grown from an unsubstantiated rumour into a stone-cold fact: Lucas was a pervert, a child molester, a rapist, and what’s more he was a dirty thieving gyppo. If he showed his face anywhere near the festival, there’d be a riot.
No, Lucas wasn’t going to be there. If he had any sense he’d be miles away by now, heading for the south coast … there’s some nice places in Dorset and Devon … I’ve always wanted to take a look at the moors … I’ll send you a postcard …