“We can’t go in there, Mr. Brown told us to search here,” Baxter whispered to Billy, clutching the sleeve of his uniform, conspiratorially, as if mentioning the mere thought of what Billy was considering, out loud, would in some way draw down the wrath of their adult supervisors.
“Let go of me Baxter,” Billy replied calmly “you can stay here, if you’re chicken,” he taunted, knowing exactly what Baxter’s response would be.
“I am not chicken!” Baxter whispered, his face turning crimson, in outrage at the insult to his courage.
“Then shut up and follow me,” Billy ordered calmly.
Slowly, the two boys approached the great dark, grey, brooding, gaping maw of the ancient stone doorway that led to an equally ancient spiral staircase. The sandstone steps were already worn into deep crescents in their centres from hundreds of years of use.
With very little light in the stairway, Billy and Baxter slowly and gingerly worked their way upwards hugging the wider sweeping left wall rather than risk the narrower and shallower-stepped right hand wall. The staircase was dark, damp and musty from years of stale air being trapped in its spiralling confines, and the further they progressed upwards the more unpleasant the smell became. Slowly, the two boys crept upwards, silent save for the hissing scratch of their footfalls on the ancient stone and the sound of their ever more laboured breathing.
About half way up the staircase, the two boys discovered a landing with another arched doorway. On the landing were two free-standing metal posts which had supported a red cordon rope. One of the posts had been knocked over, which solved the mystery of the metallic clang Billy had heard. The next question Billy had to solve was whether the person disturbing the post had gone further up the stairs or had alighted here. Looking at the fallen post, Billy judged that someone going through the doorway would have disturbed the other post too, and that they must have continued upwards.
“Come on,” Billy said to the reluctant Baxter, and they continued upwards.
After a few more minutes of climbing in silence Billy began to notice that the light in the staircase was improving, and deduced that they must be nearing the top. Billy stepped up the pace for the final thirty stairs. It was then that his general lack of fitness really began to tell as his breathing became louder and he felt that his heart was about to explode from his chest. Clambering up the stairway, Billy wished that he had worn the P.E.S. for the field trip, though he had argued to himself that he wouldn’t need it. Upwards they dashed, Baxter gamely trying to keep pace, panting just as heavily as Billy.
When the open doorway came into view Billy sprinted up the last few stairs and then halted, suddenly. So sudden was Billy’s halt that Baxter ran into the back of him. The sight that met Billy’s eyes made his heart freeze. Between the huge sloping slate roof of the Cathedral and the low, gargoyle festooned, wall of the roof’s edge was a thin narrow track-way that builders and repairmen could walk across to gain access.
“What is it?” Baxter said trying to look over Billy’s right shoulder to view the situation.
“Go and get Mr. Brown!” Billy hissed softly to his companion without taking his eyes away from the scene that met them.
Baxter was about to complain, and then felt the objection die in his throat. He caught sight of Jennifer Martin standing on the ledge of the cathedral, staring blankly downwards.
Billy immediately recognised that she had climbed over the low wall of the cathedral roof. She was standing, unsteadily, on a pigeon-dropping coated ledge that was no more than nine inches wide. One look at the situation convinced Baxter that his best course of action was to comply with Billy’s request. Turning swiftly, Baxter dashed off back in the direction he had come from yelping for Mr. Brown at the top of his lungs. With Baxter dispatched for help, Billy, or rather the part of his mind that was Teg Portan, focussed him on the matter in hand.
Slowly, he began to edge forwards towards the agonisingly thin Jennifer Martin. Leaning against the steep slope of the cathedral roof for support and balance, he moved along the small pathway between the roof slope and the low wall. Carefully, he edged forwards not to lose his footing and disturb the girl. As he carefully approached her he could see that she was engrossed in whatever was below her. Slowly, and carefully, leaning over the wall, between two of the lifeless stone gargoyle statues, he was shocked to see a sheer uninterrupted drop of over one hundred feet down onto dark grey, concrete-slabbed, pavement below. That was where a small knot of concerned people were gathering, some pointing upwards, to watch this particular drama unfold.
Under normal circumstances Billy would have begun to feel dizzy, sweaty and nauseous at such a great height. Yet, once again, despite a part of him wanting to get off this roof and run away, the part of his mind that was Teg Portan ruthlessly suppressed his primeval fear of heights to focus him on the more important task.
“Jennifer,” Billy said quietly, “Jennifer Martin” he called, inching his way forwards to the young girl standing on the ledge.
She stood there silently, her blazer buttoned, collar turned up against what to Billy was a surprisingly cold wind for such a warm mid-summer’s day. With no response from the girl, Billy continued inched forwards once again. He kept his eyes fully focussed on the young girl whose head was hunched down into her black uniform blazer, and whose attention was anywhere but in the here and now.
“Jennifer,” Billy tried calling softly to her again, close enough to see her eyes.
What he saw chilled him to his very soul. He saw the blank, staring gaze of a human being who had given up. “Watch the eyes,” the voice in his head instructed. The part of his mind that was Teg Portan recognised the vacant glassy stare of a being who had been pushed beyond the limit of their endurance by unimaginable suffering. “Watch the eyes,” the now dead Garmaurian First Admiral counselled him, “always watch the eyes.”
Part of Billy felt great pity for Jennifer Martin, realising that she must have suffered dreadfully to bring her to this stage. Once again, the part of him that was Teg Portan crushed that emotion and focussed his mind on trying to save this young life. He knew that Jennifer Martin would jump to her certain death if he, or anyone else, made a single, wrong move.
“Jennifer,” Billy called to her again, slightly louder than before and this time got a response, as he carefully crept forwards.
“Stay away from me!” she called, her eyes wide and anxious, startled by this sudden and immediate presence, clinging to the low wall, and then realised it was Billy Caudwell, “Oh, it’s only you, Billy,” she added, and relaxed slightly.
There were times Billy wished that he had been more outgoing at school. However, at that moment he was eternally grateful he had been one of the clever, quiet ones who had never bothered anyone, and was not perceived as a threat.
“What are you doing up here Jenny?” Billy asked inching forwards the last few feet that he dared to.
“I’ve had enough, Billy,” she replied returning to her trance-like staring at the pavement a long, long way below her.
In her mind she was now determined to jump, yet that primitive survival instinct, that fear of the unknown, made her delay the inevitable step into oblivion.
“Enough of what?” Billy asked, desperate to engage her in conversation.
He knew that he had to buy time. He knew that he had to keep her talking until the adults could get there. He hoped that they could somehow resolve this situation without Jennifer Martin being left squashed on the cold, hard, grey pavement below. “Where is Mr. Brown?” Billy’s mind raced desperately hoping for help to show up soon. Surely Baxter can’t have gotten lost on the way back down a spiral staircase.
“Enough of everything,” Jennifer Martin said blankly.
She had had enough of the cold silences, the insults, the shouting and the anger. There was nothing left for her in this life except more of the same, the numbness, the constant numbness. So, the pavement so far below began to look very welcoming to her. “I just hop
e that it doesn’t hurt,” she thought to herself. To Billy it was as if she were talking to the pavement below, and, in a way, she was. Ultimately, the pavement would be her final destination, and beyond it she would be with her mother again. She missed her mother so badly that it ached, but at least it had shown her she was still alive.
“What do you mean, Jenny?” Billy probed, utterly determined in his mind that this encounter would not end in tragedy.
“My father hates me,” she said emptily, staring obliviously at the growing knot of people gathering in the street below her, “I killed my mother, Billy, she had a car accident, and I killed her,” she added, and unbidden, a tear began to gently slide down her left cheek.
“Why did you have to die?” she silently cursed her mother for leaving her alone and vulnerable. “What did I do wrong?” she questioned her long dead parent in her mind, and the feelings of anger and hatred mixed with overwhelming sadness swept over her again.
Fortunately, Billy Caudwell had the good sense not to immediately try to contradict her, and let her speak. “At least now she is speaking,” Billy thought to himself, “hang on in there Jennifer.”
“I was only five and at my ballet class, but my mother was coming to collect me you see, so I killed her,” she seemed to plead to Billy for understanding.
“Jenny, if you weren’t in the car, then how can it be your fault?” Billy probed, hoping that, somehow, logic would prevail upon her mind.
But, it was not to be. The years of psychological torture, neglect and the constant, silent blame had left Jennifer Martin convinced deep down of her own guilt; that she was ultimately responsible for the loss of her mother.
“She was on the way to collect me when she had the accident. If she hadn’t been coming to collect me then she would still be alive, and that makes it my fault,” she began to sob softly.
She was relieved, and strangely grateful, that she was able to express what she felt to another live human being for the first time in so many years.
“Jenny, it’s not your fault, you weren’t to know that she would have an accident,” Billy tried another avenue of approach, “Look Jenny what about your father, and your sister, I’m sure they understand it wasn’t your fault.”
“No, he doesn’t Billy, he is mean and horrible to me, and he encourages Julie to be horrible to me too!” she hissed with real venom, wishing that when she did fall she could take them with her.
She so wanted to be with her mother now. Yet, Billy felt he was making progress. She was at least being angry and upset, rather than the cold, futile, lifeless emptiness she had been showing just a few moments before. Watch the eyes, always watch the eyes. Now, he thought to himself, he had to focus her on the things that she enjoyed, the things that gave her purpose in life.
It was at that moment that the adults arrived on the scene. Mr. Brown arrived first, being young, fit and strong, as opposed to the much older and terminally unfit Mrs. MacGuire.
Mr. Brown took in the scene, almost instantly, and froze in his tracks as Billy Caudwell had. Billy heaved a mental sigh of relief that help had now arrived, however, Jennifer Martin was somewhat less than enthralled to see him.
“Stay away from me!!” she shrieked loudly, and moved gingerly, and unsteadily, further down the ledge, suddenly stricken with panic that someone else, an adult, had arrived on the scene.
An adult who would stop her from doing what she wanted to, as adults always did. The sudden noise and movement elicited a gasp from the gathering crowd below.
“O.K., it’s all right, Jennifer Martin,” Mr. Brown soothed holding his hands up before him, palms outwards, in a placating gesture.
He too began to edge slowly forwards as Billy had done. Uncertainly, Jennifer took another step backwards along the ledge and stared at him with a mixture of fear and mistrust. She had liked Mr. Brown; almost all of the girls in her class had liked the handsome and kindly young teacher. Yet now, she stared at him as if he were a mortal enemy. Billy Caudwell she could accept, but this new arrival put an entirely different complexion on things.
Worse was just about to follow.
“What on earth are you doing, you stupid girl!?” Mrs. MacGuire blustered breathlessly barging past Mr. Brown.
Like a runaway battle tank she was “taking charge” of the situation, her face boiled lobster-red and sweaty from the exertion of climbing the stairs.
“GO AWAY, JUST GO AWAY!!” Jennifer Martin screamed in naked terror and rage shying away shakily down the narrow ledge, away from the onrushing headmistress, who, unused to such emotional ferocity, stopped in her tracks.
The crowd below gasped. This was now Jennifer Martin’s worst nightmare.
Like most of the students at the school she was afraid and intimidated by the stern and proper headmistress. Now, she felt the fear and loathing for this woman, and at that moment the plaintive wail of the police two-tone siren became audible. This meant that someone had been sufficiently concerned at the situation to summon the Authorities. Mrs. MacGuire, hoping to keep the situation under control moaned in frustration and anger.
“Now look what you’ve done, you stupid, selfish girl!” Mrs. MacGuire raged.
The headmistress knew that this incident would produce many hours of questions for Evelyn MacGuire. There would be paperwork and visits from the police, social workers and inspectors from the County Education Authority. What Evelyn MacGuire really feared was the damage to the reputation of the school, and, by default, herself.
She stood red-faced in impotent rage on the narrow walkway silently cursing the young girl who had brought impending doom and disaster upon her.
Billy Caudwell, watching the situation start to spiral dangerously out of control, stepped in.
“It’s O.K. Jenny!” he soothed, licking his lips nervously, trying to distract Jennifer and edging a few paces closer to her “no one is going to hurt you; no one is going to touch you.”
The part of him that was Teg Portan told him to get as close as he dared, and to keep watching her eyes.
“JUST JEEP HER AWAY FROM ME!!” Jennifer Martin shrieked at Mrs. MacGuire, who bristled with indignation at the insult to her pride and professional standing.
“Now, see here young lady!” Mrs. MacGuire responded taking a step forward to sort out this recalcitrant child.
That was when the powerful right arm of Mr. Brown reached out, seized the headmistress’s collar, and dragged her backwards.
“Just shut up, you stupid, insensitive old crow,” Kenneth Brown hissed softly, his face no more than three inches from Mrs. MacGuire’s.
He was finally getting to express what he thought of the headmistress. Aghast at the blatant insults both physical and verbal, Mrs. MacGuire was about to scream a response when Mr. Brown beat her to the punch.
“You are just making this situation worse, now go away and do something useful with yourself woman!” he snapped to her.
Completely unused to being spoken to in such a manner by a man, especially a younger man, Evelyn MacGuire turned on her heel and stormed off towards the door.
“How dare you Mr. Brown, I shall most certainly not forget this!” she seethed “After I have spoken to the police about your violent conduct, I shall personally see to it that you never work in a school again!” she added the threat to his future career hopes.
She disappeared into the doorway with her parting shot of petty defiance and spite.
Relieved to see the back of the Old Harpie as she was known on the playground, Billy watched the agitated Jennifer Martin. He knew that he had to end this soon. Below them the siren had stopped, the police had arrived.
“Jenny,” he called to her “Jenny, it’s all right, she’s gone now. Why don’t you come over here and tell Mr. Brown what you told me?” Billy gambled, pointing to the young teacher who stood anxiously by the wall some yards beyond them.
Unfortunately, Jennifer Martin was having none of it. The altercation with Mrs. MacGuire had finally dispelled the l
ast doubts in her mind. Or, perhaps the stress of the situation had finally taken too much of a toll on her young mind. If she climbed down from this roof, she would face the wrath of her father, Mrs. MacGuire, the stinging taunts of her sister and the whispers and sniggers of anyone who would recognise her. Whether it was at school or in the streets, they would whisper behind her back. They would taunt and tease her, for the rest of her life, for being a loony or a nutter. There was no going back for her now. Only her mother had ever loved her, only her mother had ever understood, and in her mind’s eye she saw her mother smiling, beckoning to her.
“No, Billy, please don’t try to stop me,” she smiled serenely, her fear finally gone, grateful for him having been there and for listening. “My mother is waiting for me,” she added.
Then she closed her eyes, and stepped out into nothing.
Chapter 33
To Billy, it then appeared as if the whole world had moved into slow motion.
The moment he saw her eyes close it was as if some irresistible force pushed him forwards. He knew that it was his body that was moving, and, somehow, it was his brain that had commanded it to do so. Strangely, it felt as if he were a spectator, oddly separated and detached from the incident as it unfolded.
As Jennifer began to drop, Billy was already moving forwards, his arms outstretched to grab onto any part of Jennifer Martin he could possibly reach. Kenneth Brown also started to dash forwards, but being further away knew, instinctively, that he had no chance of reaching the girl in time. That same compassionate human instinct also told him that he still had to try, and, that, if he didn’t, he would never be able to live with himself afterwards.
“No!” Kenneth Brown shouted with impotent anger and frustration as, he too, lunged forwards.
To Billy, the shout barely registered in his ears, and sounded like a long, slow, deep animal bellow. The shouts, gasps and screams from the concerned people below also failed to register in his auditory radar. His mind was focussed on the one chance, split-second, life or death task that confronted him. With a great yell of determination, Billy seized hold of something. Immediately, he felt the agonising, burning pain of tortured muscles, tendons and joints slashing into his brain from his extended arms. Instinctively, despite the agonising pain from his arms, his finger closed around something, he couldn’t quite see what, and every fibre of his being screamed at him to hold on.
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