Dark Corners

by Darren O’Sullivan

  CHLOE LAMBERT

  1982-1998

  GONE BUT NOT FORGOTTEN.

  I stood silently, shifting from one foot to the other, staring at the slab of granite in front of me. I expected I would feel something: sadness, regret, even fear. But there was nothing. And I didn’t know why.

  Behind me I heard a noise, a cough, and turning quickly, I could make out a person in the cemetery, near the gate I’d climbed over, but I couldn’t make out any details. For a brief moment I thought it was him, the man from our past. They coughed again, and I heard it wasn’t a him at all – it was a woman. She approached and, when she was close enough to see her features, I knew exactly who it was.

  Chapter 14

  22nd November 2019

  Night

  ‘I heard you were back,’ she said, her voice deep and harsh.

  Hearing her voice again after so long made me want to shiver. News travelled fast; it had to have been Derrick. Or maybe Dad expressed more interest than I thought. ‘Yes,’ I replied quietly.

  ‘Because Jamie has gone missing?’

  ‘Yes.’

  Reaching in her pocket, she took out and lit a cigarette. ‘Want one?’

  ‘No, thank you, I don’t smoke.’

  There was nothing in the way I replied that was funny, but she smiled at me, like she knew something I didn’t.

  ‘How are you, Brenda?’ I asked, filling the unbearable silence. When we were young, Brenda terrified me. It seemed time didn’t change everything.

  ‘Oh, you know,’ she said, taking a drag on her cigarette, the glowing tip intensifying, throwing ugly angles on her face. ‘Come to say hello to my daughter?’

  ‘Yes,’ I replied quietly.

  ‘It’s a bit weird you’re here in the middle of the night, isn’t it?’

  ‘I guess so, I’ve just got back. Wanted to pay my respects.’

  ‘Pay your respects.’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Well, that’s nice,’ she said abrasively, taking another drag on her cigarette, her eyes catching in the glow. Eyes that were hard, unblinking. ‘And then are you going to see your father or run away again?’

  I didn’t like her tone, but she intimidated me, so I didn’t challenge it. ‘Yes, I’m staying with Dad for the night.’

  ‘That surprises me, you’re just like your mother.’

  ‘I’m sorry?’

  ‘We don’t abandon our own, Neve,’ she said, her eyes steely. She waited for me to reply, but the words caught in my throat. Smiling, she took another drag on her cigarette, looking from me to Chloe’s grave before exhaling. ‘I often come here at night. It’s more peaceful. I get to talk to my daughter without any interruptions.’

  ‘Interruptions?’ I asked, regretting it instantly.

  ‘I know some folk here think I had something to do with her disappearance.’ She smiled, bitterly. Taking one more drag she stubbed it out on the top of Chloe’s grave. I recoiled in shock.

  ‘Well, it’s not like she’s actually buried here, is it, Neve? I’ll leave you to pay your respects,’ she said, turning and walking away.

  I watched her scramble over the gate and head back towards the main road. Only once she was out of sight did I let out the breath I had been holding. I didn’t want to be here anymore, so without speaking to Chloe, I walked away. My eye kept being drawn to the window in the row of houses that I knew was Brenda’s bedroom. It was dark, but for a moment, I thought I saw a curtain move, like someone was peering from behind it. It was impossible, there was no way Brenda had managed to get back that quickly. This place… it was already doing funny things to me.

  I climbed the fence, almost breaking into a jog as I headed further away from Chloe’s house, the pub, the mine behind them all. After what felt like the longest time, I was standing at the bottom of Forest Road. Up the steep hill, beyond where my eye could see, was Dad’s house. I’d not walked up this hill for over twenty years, the two visits since my childhood I brought a car both times, quickly in, quickly out. When I was a teenager the walk made my calves ache, but it was now so hard I needed to stop on three occasions to ease the burn in my muscles. With laboured breathing I eventually made it to the top of the approach to Dad’s door. Hesitating before stepping onto the front path, I looked at my watch, my eyes struggling to focus on the hands. It was only just after ten thirty, and yet the house was dark. I gingerly made my way to the door, after taking a deep breath.

  I rang the doorbell and waited. No lights came on, no movement within, and for a while I thought he was out. But, through a gap in the living-room curtain I could make out the eerie glow of a television screen. Pressing my nose into the glass I cupped my hands and could just about make out the shape of his arm on the chair in front of the TV. I knocked on the window, but he didn’t respond. I knocked louder, longer, and still nothing. A wave of heat flooded into my face – the same feeling I’d had once many, many years ago – and I rushed back to the front door, kicking over a potted plant beside it. I slammed the knocker down three times, loud enough to wake the neighbours, and still nothing. Grabbing the door handle, I turned it, I expecting it to be locked; Dad was a real stickler for locking and bolting the front door like he was sure we would be burgled if he didn’t. To my surprise, it opened, and I knew something was wrong.

  I held my breath and moved towards the lounge. From the doorway I could just see the top of his bald head above the high-backed chair he sat in. I listened but I couldn’t hear him breathing. My hands began to shake, and I forced myself to exhale the breath I’d held at the front door, forced myself to take in another. Stepping around the chair I looked at him, his face longer than the last time I saw him, his skin ashen. I shook his shoulder gently and jumped when he sat bolt upright.

  ‘What, what is it?’ he slurred, getting to his feet and looking around at everything but me stood in front of him.

  ‘Dad, it’s me,’ I said, startled but relieved.

  ‘What time is it?’ he said, squinting towards a wall where we once had a clock that was no longer there.

  ‘It’s late, Dad.’

  He looked at me then, and I didn’t see any happiness in his eyes. I hoped he would be delighted his little girl was home. But there was nothing.

  ‘You woke me.’

  ‘I’m sorry, Dad.’

  ‘Well, make yourself at home.’

  ‘Thank you,’ I said, sounding formal, unsure of how else to behave.

  ‘Good, good.’

  He hesitated, and for a moment, we looked at each other like strangers. I wanted to know what he was thinking, as if I weren’t vulnerable enough already.

  ‘I’ve had a long drive, and I’m pretty tired, I’m gonna go up.’

  ‘Yes, it’s late. You should get some sleep.’

  ‘Shall I sleep in my old room?’

  ‘Yes, your room is your room.’

  ‘OK, I’ll see you in the morning?’

  ‘Yes. In the morning.’

  ‘Night, Dad.’

  ‘Bye, Neve.’

  I hoped he would get up and hug me, stroke my arm, even ask for a bloody high five. But nothing. I headed for the stairs, taking my time as I ascended. In my peripheral vision, I watched him slump back into his armchair, like I wasn’t even there. When I reach the top, I flicked on a light, and waited for my eyes to adjust. Nothing had changed, nothing in twenty years. The wallpaper was the same, as were the light shades and doors. I could see into the bathroom; the loo and sink were still the same olive green that was all the rage in the Eighties.

  I opened the door to the room that was once mine. The single bed was still tucked up against the wall furthest away from the window, on it an old suitcase and a few boxes. Dad had forgotten I was coming. Or he didn’t care. Likely both. The wardrobe still had the corners of posters that had remained stuck with sellotape long after the rest had been torn down, and through the window, the headstocks of the mine looked in. The wheels atop it once spun 24/7 looked like two beady eyes, alway
s watching. I dragged the case and one of the boxes from the bed. The other box was too heavy for me to move on my own, not without creating a deafening bang when I dropped it on the floor. I pushed it against the wall and lay down, curling my body around it like I used to with Oliver when he slept with his back to me. I wanted nothing more than for the alcohol that made the room spin to take me into a booze-infused sleep. But it didn’t and laying there, wrapped around a huge box, I thought of Oliver, of Dad, of Jamie. I thought of Chloe. Turning to face the window I listened to the rain that had started back up, lash against the glass, while the eyes of the headstocks looked in.

  Chapter 15

  23rd November 2019

  Morning

  When I woke, my head throbbed and for a moment I thought I was in the wrong place – it wasn’t the first time I’d woken up in a strange bed, but not something I’d done since meeting Oliver. I pieced together where I was and the previous day. I checked my phone, still hopeful that Oliver would have messaged. He hadn’t. I did, however, have a Facebook message from Holly – news really had travelled fast.

  I’ve heard you came back last night. I’ll be at the social club; they’ve agreed to open it as a search HQ. I’ll be there from half nine. Holly.

  I sat up quickly, and my head stung. Touching the back of it I felt a lump and when I pulled my hand away there was blood on it. The same applied to the pillow. For a moment I couldn’t remember what had happened, then recalled breaking the wing mirror. Pressing my hand to the lump again I felt the small cut. Nothing to worry about, apart from not realising I had done it. Unsteadily rising to my feet, I looked into the mirror beside what used to be my wardrobe. My eyes were bloodshot and heavy, my skin looked desperate for some sunshine, and as I turned my head, I could just about see a matted red splodge in my hair from where I had bled.

  Opening my bedroom door, I looked across the small landing to my dad’s room. If I squinted I could just about make out his bed which looked like it hadn’t been slept in. I took a few steps to confirm I was alone up here, and the floorboards squeaked angrily underfoot. Downstairs, I could hear the TV playing. I couldn’t help but feel nervous as I made my way towards the sound. Last night I had seen my father for the first time in years, but it was late, and I was drunk. Today I would face him properly.

  Knowing I couldn’t see him looking as I did, I found a towel in the airing cupboard and went back up to the bathroom, I had a quick shower that dribbled lukewarm water over me. I had forgotten how shit the shower was here, and how Dad only put the hot water on for an hour a day. The tepid water was yet another thing I didn’t miss about this place. Stepping out of the shower I dashed back to my old bedroom and shut the door to get dressed. Feeling slighter better as each layer of clean clothes went onto my body, I pulled my hair into a messy bun, and grabbed my glasses which had somehow survived unscathed. I appraised myself one more time before going down to see him. I looked OK, which in the circumstances was better than I could have wished for. Would he even notice, anyway?

  I was shocked to see the lounge was empty, and grabbing the remote I turned down the TV. I expected him to be in his armchair, where he was last night. After Mum left, he’d often fall asleep in front of the telly. From the lounge I went into the kitchen, having to fold my arms over my chest as the room was freezing. The back door was wide open, and outside, standing in the middle of the lawn was my dad, wrapped in his dressing gown. He was looking at the old tree at the end of the garden that once had a rope swing attached. For a moment, I could hear my giggles, asking him to push me higher.

  ‘Dad?’ I called out, but he mustn’t have heard me. ‘Dad!’ I said louder, and he turned, startled to see me stood in the kitchen doorway. ‘What are you doing? It’s freezing out here!’

  ‘Oh, I’m umm, just getting some air,’ he said, half smiling.

  ‘Come back in here, you’ll catch a cold,’ I said, waving him towards me. He did as I asked, and I closed the door behind me. I expected him to perhaps offer a cup of tea, but by the time I locked the back door, he had shuffled back into the living room.

  ‘I’ll put the kettle on?’ I called out.

  ‘OK,’ he replied, turning up the TV.

  ‘OK,’ I echoed, defeated.

  I watched Dad as I waited for the kettle to boil. He looked frail, too frail, and although he was dismissive as ever, there was something else. He wasn’t one to step outside and get fresh air, and he wasn’t one to forget to make someone a cup of tea. He may not be the most emotionally connected person in the world, but he’d always used tea to bridge the gap.

  The kettle boiled and I opened the fridge door looking for milk. Where the milk should have been sat a bag of sugar. I looked in the cupboard where the sugar was kept, and sure enough, there was the milk. That in itself wasn’t alarming, but combined with everything else… what was going on?

  I made our drinks and sat on the sofa, where we sipped in silence.

  ‘I’m going to the social to meet Holly, and see if I can help.’

  ‘The social is shut.’

  ‘I know. It’s open just as a base for people to meet and help.’

  ‘Help with what?’ he asked, his eyes still on the screen.

  ‘Finding Jamie.’

  ‘Oh, yes. Well, I’m sure he will turn up,’ he said, dismissing the seriousness of it.

  Putting on my coat I called goodbye, and waited – perhaps longer than I should have – for him to say something back, but my farewell was unanswered. Quietly, I closed the door behind me. As I stepped onto the footpath that led to town I looked up, heavy dark clouds above me moved apace. The wind was strong up there, adding to my sense of disorientation. A horn blared behind me and I spun around to see a white van, half on the footpath, half on the road. I thought it was someone trying to run me down, but the driver had slammed on the brakes. Instinctively, I covered myself, waiting to be hit. Thankfully, it came to a halt inches before that happened. I stumbled backward, looked up at the van. A sign said it was for GM Cleaning Services. I mumbled an apology, even though I wasn’t in the wrong. I expected the driver to say something, offer a sorry like I had, or perhaps even shout at me, but she just stared towards me. As I began to walk away again, I looked over my shoulder and saw the woman, who was probably in her late forties, get out. She would have been too old to know who I was back then. But still, as she looked at me, I couldn’t help but think she was judging me silently, it was like she was trying to scare me. Perhaps Derrick had told more people than Brenda and Holly I was back, and she was letting me know the village knew. And that I should be careful.

  I turned, put my head down, and walked on.

  It wasn’t until I was halfway down my dad’s road and heading towards the village centre did I stop to think about where I was going. I was walking to meet Holly, someone who I had not seen since the summer Chloe vanished, to help her look for Jamie. I suspected there would be lots of people there; people who had known me before. My heart began to race.

  Chapter 16

  23rd November 2019

  Morning

  Jamie’s face was everywhere, his sad smile, the same one I saw on Facebook, was photocopied in black and white and stuck on every other lamppost on the main road of the village. The posters didn’t say much, just listed a number to call if he was spotted. His tired expression watched me all the way to the furthest edge of the village.

  Once the social club was in sight, I tried to make out if I could see Holly amongst the few gathered outside in the car park. I checked my phone, tempted to try and call her through Facebook messenger. It was like she knew I would want to spot her before approaching, as she had messaged ten minutes earlier, telling me she would be wearing a bright red coat, just in case I couldn’t work out who she was. Casting my eye back towards the social I could see a handful of people milling around. They mostly consisted of well-meaning elderly folk who probably had little else to do but make cups of tea for those out looking. But I couldn’t see a red coat
anywhere. Checking the time, I saw it was 10.15 a.m. She probably waited for me for a while, but then gave up. As I drew ever closer, an older lady by the door greeted me with a warm, but serious smile. Did she know who I was?

  ‘Good morning, I’m looking for Holly?’ I asked quietly, guarded.

  ‘Good morning, dear, are you here to help?’

  ‘If I can.’

  ‘Bless you, yes, we need all the help we can get.’

  Dad had said something similar, but I didn’t ask her to elaborate.

  ‘Do you know him?’ I asked, hoping I could learn something about the boy I once knew so well.

  ‘Yes, he’s very popular in the village, poor man. Holly is just inside, you’ve timed it well, the group are about to head out into the woods.’ Before I could respond, the lady took me by the arm and guided me in.

  As I was dragged into the bar area, and eyes met mine, I knew I couldn’t back out. I was expecting to see people in hi-vis jackets with walkie talkies. I expected mountain rescue to be leading the search, as the woods around the village are dense and it’s easy to lose your way. I expected police, just like in 1998. But what I saw didn’t even come close to my assumption. There were four people standing around a table, one of them in a red coat. Holly. I could hear her talking about how they were about to search the woods. Just like they did with Chloe. I never wanted to step foot into that forest again.

  As I approached, Holly looked up at me and smiled. I tried to smile back. But those two words swam around my head. The woods. She walked towards me, her arms outstretched, ready to embrace, and in acquiescence I stepped inside the space she created for me and hugged her back.

  ‘Neve, it’s so good to see you.’

  ‘You too, Holly.’

  Pulling away she looked at me; I wanted to look away. Time had been good to her, she seemed young, stress-free, fit.

  ‘You look fantastic,’ I said, stepping away.

  ‘Thank you. So do you,’ she lied. ‘It’s been so long.’