Think about it, guys, we need to meet, and we need to meet somewhere where people won’t know we are meeting. Somewhere off the beaten track. Somewhere quiet. As much as it makes me nervous, isn’t it obvious?
It was obvious and terrifying in equal measure, and as no one replied, it meant it was happening.
We were going to the only place where we could hang out as kids.
We were going back to the hut.
Chapter 27
25th November 2019
Night
As the day dragged on, a thick fog descended over the village, reducing visibility so much that, looking out of the living-room window, I could just about see the shape of the lamppost on the footpath in front – the light it emitted was a shrouded glow, something belonging in a Sherlock Holmes story rather than a mining village in the Midlands. I messaged Esther, telling her I was OK, and that, if she had time, we could chat. She messaged saying she’d call once Tilly was down. I found myself watching the black screen of my phone, desperate for it to light up with the picture of us, smiling and giving a thumbs up, the Tea Tree sign behind us moments before we opened our café’s doors for the first time. I had only left London, and Esther, a few days ago, but it felt like a lifetime. I missed her.
Dad had been in good spirits and actually managed to take my mind off the Drifter, Jamie and Oliver. We didn’t talk about much, nothing of any consequence. I guess that was why it felt so nice. For the first time in as long as I could remember, Dad and I were just talking. No agenda, no hidden meaning or thoughts left unsaid. It felt normal. Remembering I loved the Agatha Christie books, Dad found the new Murder on the Orient Express movie and we spent the afternoon watching it, and he cooked me his world-famous toad in the hole. Replete and content, I washed up, and as I began to dry the dishes my phone screen lit up. Closing the kitchen door so Dad wouldn’t have to listen to me chatting, I picked up.
‘Hey.’
‘Hey. How are you?’
‘You first. How is everything? How was the reopening yesterday?’
‘Well, good news or bad?’
Before I could choose, Esther told me that because the safe was unlocked, the money inside wouldn’t be insured.
‘Esther, I’m so sorry.’
She didn’t forgive me, or say it was OK, but continued by telling me that the reopening was a success. Lots of people, lots of income. If it could be sustained, they would be doing better than ever. The news was wonderful – it didn’t let me off the hook, but it helped me feel less like I might throw up.
‘What about you? Tell me what’s going on.’
I started by telling her about the lovely afternoon spent with my dad, how it was becoming easier to be around him, and before I knew it, I’d slipped into a detailed account of seeing Holly’s children; even saying how I wished I could turn back time.
‘Neve, stop. You can’t keep berating yourself about Oliver leaving.’
‘But that was our problem, wasn’t it? He wanted those things. And I couldn’t tell him why I didn’t.’
‘You have your reasons,’ she said, not agreeing or disagreeing with me.
‘Yeah, but were they right?’
She didn’t reply.
‘I just wish I’d let him in more, I guess.’
‘Well, this might sound crass, and I’m sorry. But one day, you’ll meet someone else and know not to make the same mistake.’
‘I guess.’
To move the conversation on, I told her about Georgia’s dad.
‘So, it could have been him?’
‘That’s what they thought. But there was no proof.’
‘Shit. That’s really messed up. You need to get out of there. That place sounds too weird.’
‘It is weird. But I can’t.’
‘What on earth have you got to stay for?’
I was about to answer, but the phone pinged in my ear, an incoming message. Holding the phone away I looked at the screen: it was Holly saying she was about to leave.
‘I gotta go, Esther.’
‘OK. Let’s touch base tomorrow, even if it’s a text. I’m worried about you.’
‘Don’t be,’ I said, not even half believing it. ‘Give Tilly a squeeze for me,’ I added, aware I’d never said anything like it before. Esther noticed.
‘I will.’
I hung up the phone and catching my reflection in the kitchen window, I stood taller. I made Dad one final cup of tea, and then I got ready to leave.
‘Where are you going?’
‘Just off to meet up with my friends,’ I said, noticing how it felt like I had stepped back into my teenage years. ‘I won’t be late, and have my mobile, so call me if you need me OK?’
‘Don’t get into any trouble,’ he said on autopilot, like he had every time I’d gone anywhere as a kid. I wanted to kiss him again, like I had when he slept. Closing the door behind me I almost got into the car, but instead I started to walk back towards the village. The walk I felt I’d done a thousand times in the last few days. As I passed the pub, I could hear voices coming from within. Not many, but a few. The events of the past forty-eight hours seemed to have brought people out of hiding. I wanted to believe people were talking about how they could help find Jamie, but really, they were likely gossiping about who might have killed him, despite there being no proof he was actually dead. I could almost hear their comments – one side of the miners’ union blaming the other. Jamie was the son of the landlord of the pub that had been the central hub for those who refused to strike in the Eighties. The ‘scabs’. I had no doubt the pub was full of the same folk, accusing those who did strike of being murderers. Michael was right, we couldn’t meet in The Miners’ Arms, the gossip would be rife, and all eyes would fall on us.
As I walked past the pub, a few people stood outside smoking. They were talking about something in hushed tones, and as I drew close, they stopped. Like I was a stranger in a Western, an unknown face who had just stepped into the tavern. I should have felt horrified; instead, I quietly laughed at their desperation for drama. It was pathetic, and once I was several paces past them, I could hear the quiet mutterings once more.
As the headstocks drew ever closer, it felt like the temperature dropped, and turning onto the lane that led down to the hut, I could see frost on the ground from the previous day. The thick conifers that lined the lane blocked out all daylight, holding this small corner of the world at ransom to the night. The deeper I walked, the less I could hear until the only thing left was the humming of the one working street light as the bulb inside flickered. No wind, no cars. No murmurs carrying on a breeze. Just the hum, and my shallow breathing. Then, from behind me I heard a snap, the sound of a twig breaking underfoot.
‘Who’s there?’
I could see no one on the path, no one in the woods that lined either side. It didn’t offer any solace – I knew you only needed to be back a few feet from the tree line at this time of day, and no one would know you were there. Walking backwards, I moved as quickly as I could, and turning, I broke into a jog. As I approached the hut, I could hear Holly talking quietly from within, and my panic eased. Baz was there too, and I think I made out Michael’s voice. I took a moment to compose myself. I looked towards the mine, the lifeless shell that had been dead for decades, and wouldn’t rest. Walking behind the hut I called out.
‘Guys, it’s me, it’s Neve.’
Dropping low I opened the hatch and fought to get inside, much harder now as an adult. Thankfully, Michael offered out a hand, which I was more than willing to take, unashamed that I was struggling.
‘Here. Let me help you up,’ he said as he grasped my arm and aided me to my feet.
‘Thank you.’
‘Did anyone see you coming?’ Holly asked.
‘No, a few people outside the pub were a bit weird, but no one followed.’
‘Good. That’s good,’ she replied but I was no longer looking at her. My eyes instead were drawn to the room. The place that once was a
retreat for us, a place that now haunted my dreams. The coffee table Michael crafted joints on was still there, now on its side by a wall instead of in the middle of the room. And the walls were still adorned with graffiti, as well as a few posters that were aged and lifeless. The beanbags and candles were long gone, cleared out when the search for Chloe begun. We were warned to never come back, a warning I heeded, as had everyone else by the looks of it, until tonight.
‘Neve?’ Baz asked, bringing me back into the room.
‘Sorry. It’s just weird being back.’
‘Take your time,’ Michael started. ‘Georgia isn’t here yet, and don’t really want to start until she is. We need to be united in our plans to sort this mess out.’
‘And find Jamie,’ Holly added.
‘Yes, sorry, and find Jamie.’
‘So, how long is Georgia going to be?’ I asked, the anxiety within the walls of the hut rubbing itself against me.
‘I spoke to her this morning. She said after work she was going home, and that she would walk down once she had made sure her dad had something to eat.’
‘What time did she finish?’
‘Half past five.’
I looked at my phone, it was quarter past seven; Georgia had had plenty of time to get home, eat and make her way. As I caught Baz’s eye, I could see an anxiety in him also. ‘I’ll give her a ring,’ he said.
Baz unlocked his mobile and I glanced at the screen. Georgia’s number was the first one on his call list. We all waited, quietly as the phone connected and rang several times before clicking to voicemail.
‘Maybe her dad has asked her to help out with something.’
‘Yes, I bet that’s it.’
‘Do you have her home number?’ Holly asked Baz, and I wondered why he would, since we lived in an age where landlines were almost obsolete. Unless something was going on between Baz and Georgia perhaps? Nodding, Baz rang her home number and after three rings a gruff-sounding man answered.
‘Mr Clements. It’s Doctor McBride… No, no, nothing to worry about, I was just wondering if Georgia was at home.’
I couldn’t hear what Georgia’s dad was saying, so I watched Baz intently, and saw the colour drain from his face.
‘I see, no, I’m sure all is fine, thank you, Mr Clements.’
Baz lowered the phone.
‘Well, where is she?’ asked Holly.
‘I don’t know,’ he said quietly, so quiet it was almost missed.
‘Baz, where is she? What did her dad say?’ Holly asked again, her upbeat tone grave with worry.
‘He said she left the house at just before nine this morning, and she hasn’t come home.’
‘Shit, you don’t think—’
‘Michael, calm down. It could mean anything; we shouldn’t jump to conclusions.’
‘Yes but, I mean, you have to agree,’ said Michael, his voice rising in panic.
‘Michael,’ Baz said firmly, subduing Michael and likely preventing a panic attack. ‘We don’t know anything; she could just be having a really busy day at work. Let’s try and calm down a little.’
‘Neve, how sure are you that you saw the Drifter?’ Michael asked, quieter, but no less panicked.
‘Pretty sure,’ I replied.
‘How sure. Be specific.’
Baz clapped his hands decisively, snapped everyone away from dark thoughts of dark times in dark places. ‘Right, I refuse to accept this. Come on.’
‘Where are we going?’
‘We’re going to get Georgia. Sorry, Neve, I just don’t believe that after twenty-odd years of silence he is back. I refuse to believe this is anything more than Jamie needing help for himself and Georgia being held up at work. Let’s find her and then focus on finding him.’
‘What about the Drifter?’ asked Michael.
‘Let’s stop thinking about fucking ghosts like we did when we were kids and find our friends, shall we?’
Baz brushed past me and dropping low he disappeared though the hatch, followed closely by Michael.
‘What was that about?’ I asked Holly quietly.
‘Barry and Georgia kind of have a thing going on. He’s worried, that’s all. Don’t take it personally.’
‘OK.’
Holly touched my arm, offered a meek smile and disappeared through the hatch, leaving me alone. I looked at the coffee table tucked up against the wall and couldn’t help thinking of that last night when Chloe and I sat around it. Shaking off the memory, I scurried though the gap and ran to catch up with the others as they walked back towards the village. Everyone struggled to keep up with Baz as he stormed ahead.
Chapter 28
July 1998
One week before…
It had been a week since their party at Baz’s house, and despite several of the group thinking the night would conclude with them in the hut, it hadn’t. Holly got really drunk and ended up in a lot of trouble. Her dad, a stern and traditional man, was horrified when Baz reluctantly rang him as Holly started to throw up in a bush. Holly had been grounded for a month for it. And the group rule was almost broken, but Chloe insisted: if they couldn’t all go, no one should.
Despite Holly’s punishment, when the mine closed, tough parenting seemed to fall short, and it was just six days before her house arrest was over. With Jamie not needed at work, and apprenticeships yet to begin, they found themselves back at Baz’s, his parents out again. They drank and sunbathed and listened to Madonna’s Ray of Light album which Georgia, dressed in a pair of incredibly short shorts, insisted on. Michael protested, as did Jamie. In the heat of the evening, and with Georgia’s flesh on display, the boys didn’t really have any power. It got under Neve’s skin, as she watched Jamie trying not to look, but then again, they all noticed her. In just one short year, Georgia’s shape had changed from that of a young girl to that of a woman.
As the sun began to dip behind a low bank of clouds on the horizon, it was time to think about going home. Last week, when Holly was picked up, all of their parents learnt that their children had been lying to them. They had got away with it but knew they wouldn’t again. Neve, however, wasn’t ready for the night to end. She knew if they were caught, her parents wouldn’t care. They seldom seemed to notice her at all lately. Dad was still miserable because of the mine and Mum seemed distracted elsewhere. And besides, even if she were to get into the worst trouble when she got home, she and Jamie had been exchanging looks all afternoon, and on more than one occasion he made a point of touching her hand whilst passing a drink or holding her gaze longer than a friend should. She wanted to enjoy that for a little longer, perhaps even step it up a notch – maybe she would even steal a kiss from him.
‘I thought we were going to go back to the hut?’ she said, trying to stir her sleepy, drunk friends. The boys smiled, mischief in their eyes. Chloe sat bolt upright, but Neve sensed there was something nervous under the excitement.
‘Yeah, but I can’t be bothered now.’ Holly sounded a little annoyed that Neve had suggested their evening should do anything but end. ‘Besides. We were in so much shit last week.’
Michael broke into a laugh, quickly joined by Baz.
‘It’s not funny. I told you I didn’t want to drink, guys.’
‘It’s pretty funny.’
‘I think we should go back,’ said Jamie, eager not to let the evening end. Neve was hoping it wouldn’t for the same reason. ‘We could stop and get drinks on the way, maybe some Red Bull to wake us up?’
‘I said I’d be home before dark.’
‘Come on, Holly, we’ve not been there in like, forever!’
‘Since we saw that weird man,’ Chloe added quietly.
‘I’ve told you. He was just some lonely old soul, probably worked down there. He’s long gone now, and if not, he’s harmless anyway,’ Baz continued. ‘The real issue with your plan, Jamie, is who is going to serve us? No one has got any ID.’
‘Well, we could try?’
‘Or we could just stay he
re?’ said Georgia, her eyes pink and heavy from smoking some of Michael’s joint.
‘Georgia, we’ve stayed here for all our lives, haven’t we? We should be having an adventure.’
‘Fuck, yeah!’ Baz shouted, liking the idea of doing something reckless.
‘I’m in,’ nodded Michael. ‘What shall we do?’
‘Well, if we are doing this, Neve is right, we start by getting more booze,’ said Chloe, who was putting her shoes back on, preparing to leave, the nervousness gone.
‘But we don’t have ID,’ repeated Georgia with waning objection.
‘Or money,’ Jamie said, realising his own idea was horribly flawed, making Georgia smile, much to the annoyance of Neve, as she felt he should be on her side, not Georgia’s.
‘Shit, yeah. Well, that idea’s bollocksed. Still, Neve is right, we have to go to the hut, it’s ours. And we should be there tonight,’ said Baz, determined not to give up on the recklessness stirring inside. ‘Come on, let’s go,’ he continued decisively and as always, the group followed suit.
‘What about the booze?’ Holly said, hoping it would delay them.
‘If we are going to the hut, we’ll pass mine. I reckon I could steal some from my dad,’ said Georgia, her attention towards Baz. ‘But it won’t be much. Chloe, come with me?’
‘Sure,’ she said.
‘It’s a start. And then we can work out how to get some more,’ said Baz, a smile on his face.
The group left and made their way up the village, towards the entrance for the mine. They moved as quietly as a mob of drunk teenagers could, worried they would be seen by someone who would tell their parents they were out and up to no good. The village was more insular, more claustrophobic than other places because everyone was connected. More than just knowing everyone’s business, the mine meant they were each other’s business. Baz seemed to care less about being caught and was singing ‘Football’s Coming Home’ at the top of his voice, despite England losing to Romania the night before in the World Cup. Baz was right not to worry, for even with him singing out of tune and at the top of his voice, no one silenced him, no one asked any questions of the seven teenagers. No one cared.
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