by Karen Clarke
I waited until it was properly dark outside before opening the front door. Skip shot out and looped around, lit by the security light. There was total darkness beyond. Above, the clouds swept across a high moon and wind moaned through the trees. I shivered, clasping my arms around myself, looking back to check Lily was safe.
If anyone was watching, I was exposed, standing in the glare of the light and the lamp from the room behind me. I waited for Skip to move out of range and when darkness descended, let the door swing almost shut behind me.
I scanned the area, trying to let my eyes adjust, gasping when an owl hooted close by. How did Morag stand it out here alone? In daylight it was fine, but in darkness the isolation was more obvious. It was why I’d been drawn to Fenbrith in the first place, but now it seemed horribly easy to become a target with no one around to help.
The air in the cottage was cooling, the fire dying to a deep orange glow. Lily gave a muted whimper.
‘Skip!’ I peered at the darkness enfolding the cottage. ‘Here, boy!’ Silence, then a rustling sound somewhere to my left. The hairs rose on my arms. ‘Skip?’ Maybe he’d got in the bin, or was snuffling through the compost heap where Morag scraped any leftovers. ‘Come here!’ A bark bounced through the blackness. Should I leave him there? What if he was hurt? Why else wasn’t he coming back?
Checking once more that Lily hadn’t moved, I ran out, blinking as the security light flicked into life. ‘You’d better not be injured.’ The sound of my voice was heartening, proof that I existed. Injured. The thought hit like a punch. ‘Oh no.’ I rounded the cottage at speed and stopped when I saw the dog by the bin, a guilty expression on his face, bones scattered around him. They were small like … like rabbit bones. Maybe he’d got hold of the one in the fridge after all. ‘You’ve been a naughty boy,’ I said, mock-sternly. He whined and sank down, ears flattened as if expecting a telling-off. ‘What have you been up to—?’
A heavy shove in the middle of my back sent me flying, knocking the breath out of my lungs. The side of my head hit the wall and I crashed to the ground, the world tilting sideways, my arm twisting beneath me. Skip growled and barked. Feet slammed the ground, running away, then the dog was licking my face as I slid into blackness.
Chapter 21
I opened my eyes, pain ripping through my skull. Lily.
As I struggled to my feet, headlights swung into the clearing. There was a moment’s silence after the van’s engine died, then Morag raced towards me, swearing. ‘What the hell happened?’ She helped me up, firm hands beneath my armpits. ‘You’re bleeding.’
‘Lily,’ I managed. ‘She’s in the cottage.’
‘I should hope she is.’
‘Go and look.’ My voice was a rasp. ‘Please, go and check.’
As Morag let go of me, I slumped against the wall, shivering violently. I made myself move, one foot in front of the other, hands gripping the rough stone as I rounded the cottage to the open door. Nausea rose, as pain gripped my head like a vice.
‘She’s fine, don’t worry.’ Morag came out and I fell against her. ‘The dog was here, guarding the place. Doing his job for once.’ She steered me inside towards the sofa.
Lily was where I’d left her on the mat, gazing at the animals, but I couldn’t let go of an image of someone lifting her up and spiriting her into the night.
‘Don’t cry, it’s fine. You’re both OK.’ Morag’s voice was brusque as I wept weakly, head lolling forward. I sounded like an injured animal.
‘How long was I out there?’ I managed, as Morag rummaged in a drawer in the dresser. ‘She could have frozen.’
‘It can’t have been long; it’s only nine.’
‘You’re back early.’
‘Not much happening at the pub.’ She went to the sink and turned the tap on. ‘I thought you might want some company.’ Before I had time to digest this, she was back. ‘How did it happen?’ She loomed close, dabbing at the gash on my temple with a wad of damp cotton wool. ‘I nearly had a heart attack when I saw you lying there.’
A shudder racked my body and my teeth chattered. ‘Skip,’ I managed. ‘He wouldn’t come in so I went to look for him and I …’ It was on the tip of my tongue to say I’d fallen and hit my head on the wall, but I’d been attacked. This wasn’t a scare tactic. It was assault. ‘Someone pushed me.’
Morag’s hand stilled. ‘Pushed you?’ Her head drew back, her face blank. ‘What do you mean?’
‘Somebody shoved me really hard from behind.’ Tears trickled down my face as I relived the shock. ‘I fell on my arm.’ I flexed it, wincing. ‘Whoever it was ran off.’
‘Where?’
‘What?’
‘Towards the woods, or down the track towards the road?’
I tried to think, keeping my eyes pinned to Lily as though she might vanish if I looked away. ‘I … I don’t know.’ There was mud on my jeans and my socks were filthy. I hadn’t even put boots on to go outside. ‘Towards the road, I think.’
‘I’m calling the police.’
‘It would help if there was a working phone.’ Hysteria bubbled up. ‘This is what I was talking about, Morag. We can’t be cut off from the world like this. It’s dangerous.’
‘Funny how it never mattered before you arrived.’
‘What about the bolts on the doors and the rifle under your bed?’
Colour stained her cheeks. ‘You saw that?’
‘Yes, I saw it, Morag.’
She was silent for a moment. ‘You promised me earlier there was nothing to worry about.’
I shrank down. ‘I know, I’m sorry.’ I pulled away from her, flinching as my head throbbed, wiping my cheeks with my palms. ‘I didn’t think there was.’ I bent over and picked up Lily, wrapping her close, letting her sweet scent calm me. ‘I honestly thought we were safe here, but …’ But he hadn’t taken Lily. He could have, while I was out cold. He could have killed me, but hadn’t. Had he acted on instinct? He’d known Morag was out, had probably seen Skip outside, but couldn’t have been sure I’d go out to look for the dog. Maybe he’d seized the chance to issue a final warning – a punishment for leaving Lily alone in the cottage. Keep her close. Anything could happen. ‘I should leave,’ I said. ‘I thought I couldn’t be found here but maybe I was wrong. I shouldn’t involve you.’
‘Hang on.’ Alarm flickered over Morag’s face. She sat next to me, her eyes on Lily. ‘You don’t have to go.’ It sounded like I don’t want you to go and my heart clenched around the words. ‘Ifan spoke to the phone company. They’re sending an engineer tomorrow.’ She paused then seemed to make up her mind. ‘I’m going to drive back to the village now and call the police from there.’ She got up and moved to the kitchen where she threw the bloodied cotton wool in the bin. ‘The reason for the bolts, the rifle – though I’ve had that a long time; it was your granddad’s – is because there’s been some violence in the area and no one’s been caught. It’s bound to be the same gang, probably high on drugs. Maybe they considered robbing the place, lost their nerve and ran.’
I stared at her, a ribbon of hope unwinding. ‘Is that really likely?’
‘I’m afraid so.’ Her fingers drummed the worktop. ‘There’s not much for young people to do around here. Sometimes, they pile in a car and go looking for trouble. There was an incident at the farm, where his nibs came from.’ We looked in tandem at Skip in front of the dying fire, his head on his paws. ‘Throwing eggs at the windows, frightening the sheep, that sort of thing. When Jan, the wife, came out to confront them, one of lads shoved her and she fell and hurt her knee.’
The rush of relief was intense. As awful as it sounded, a group of bored youths, drunk or high, daring each other to cause mayhem, was better than the alternative. I tried to recall some details about my attacker: tall, I’d thought, strong … a man, not a teenager. Hope shrivelled as fast as it had flared. It wasn’t a random attack. I felt it in my bones.
‘Does anyone else have a key to this place?’
/> Morag shook her head as she reached for the kettle. ‘Don’t worry,’ she said. ‘No one can let themselves in without my permission.’ Her tone was pitched to offer reassurance, but all I could think was: So how did the note get upstairs, and the lock of hair? How did someone steal my ring? And what had happened to the second rabbit I saw Ifan put in the fridge? And the sound I’d heard the day after I arrived – someone watching me as I dozed while feeding Lily.
‘I should never have left a key out there in the first place,’ Morag was saying, pushing the sleeves of her jacket up. ‘It was careless. I’d got complacent out here.’
‘No, no,’ Tears threatened. ‘You shouldn’t be made to feel unsafe because of me. Everything was fine before I came, and now—’
‘It’s nothing to do with you,’ she cut in, moving briskly, dropping a teabag in a mug before pouring boiling water in. ‘You didn’t ask for this to happen.’
Didn’t I? Hadn’t I been asking for it since I threatened Patrick and ran away?
It was an effort to hold my head up. My hair felt sticky with blood, the skin tender around the wound. Lily was heavy in my arms. She strained as she filled her nappy and a foul smell filtered out.
Morag placed a mug of brick-coloured tea on the barrel-table. ‘Here, drink this,’ she said. ‘I’ve put two sugars in for shock.’ She frisked her pocket for her keys. ‘I’m going to call the police now and I’ll wait for someone to arrive. Will you be OK?’
I tried to nod but it was too painful. ‘Yes.’
‘Shall I ring for a doctor too?’ She moved closer to look at my head, wrinkling her nose as the smell of Lily’s nappy hit. ‘It’s stopped bleeding. I don’t think you need stitches.’
‘I’ll be fine.’ Tiredness was closing in, replacing shock. ‘You don’t have to go back out just to call the police.’
‘Yes, I do.’ Her voice was firm as she backed away. ‘We need to get it on record. They can take a look around. Check no one’s hanging about.’
What if involving the police provoked something worse? My assailant – and Patrick – might be banking on me being too scared to call them. Then again, a police presence might put them off, convince them I wasn’t worth the trouble. But what if he was one of Patrick’s criminals, given immunity in return for information? Someone like that might not care. They might even get a thrill out of evading the police.
I was too tired to think about it anymore and anyway, Morag was on her way out.
‘Bolt the door after me,’ she instructed. I managed a nod this time. She was clearly used to dealing with traumatised victims – people in a worse state than I was. ‘I’ll knock when I get back.’
As she left, I carefully laid Lily on her blanket and hauled myself off the sofa. My limbs felt stiff, as though my bones had been shaken and rearranged. Crossing to the door, I jammed the bolts across. The room spun as I bent to wrestle with the one at the bottom. It was stiff. Blood pounded in my ears as I wrenched it into place. It struck me afresh that Morag must have been genuinely worried about intruders getting in. I wished she’d mentioned the troublemakers sooner, but guessed she hadn’t wanted to worry me, just as I was trying not to worry her.
Skip trotted to his bowl for a drink, claws clicking the tiles, then returned to his spot on the rug. ‘Thank you for watching Lily,’ I said. The words sounded silly as they landed but his tail thumped as if he understood.
A numbness settled over me as I changed Lily’s dirty nappy then removed my clothes and stuffed them in the washing machine. With Morag’s dressing gown draped around me, I sat at the table to feed Lily. Feeling her mouth tug my nipple, her tiny hand on my breast, brought fresh tears to my eyes. ‘I’m so sorry,’ I whispered, stroking her hair. ‘I’ll do better, I promise. It won’t always be like this.’
I thought of Mum and felt a desperate need to talk to her. She must have fed me like this once, her hand cupping my head, heart overflowing with love. Had she worried for my safety? Didn’t all mothers? And what about Dad? It was hard to picture them as brand-new parents, to visualise their lives before I was born, but I knew they’d been happy once, that Dad had been kinder. He’d doted on me, according to my grandmother. My grandparents must have seen what he was like when he’d been drinking but never said anything – not to me anyway, but Mum had been good at putting on a front, would have made excuses for him. His parents had died before Mum and Dad met. Maybe they’d had a troubled relationship too. Was that why Dad – an only child like me – had been the way he was?
Would I have to make excuses for Patrick one day? Make up a story for Lily? It wasn’t how I’d planned parenthood, but I hadn’t planned to be a mother at all, or even a wife. I’d never dreamed of a wedding, like Ana had in the past. Relationships were unreliable, made life harder to navigate. Better to stick to friendships. The future I’d imagined hadn’t featured a family of my own; until Lily arrived.
After her feed I rocked her, softly singing, ‘Baa Baa Black Sheep’, the rhythm matching the throbbing in my head. When I’d snapped the fasteners shut on her sleepsuit, I held her tight and kissed her velvety cheeks. An ache bloomed in my upper arm as I tucked her into her Moses basket and a flame of anger ignited. Let the police come. I hoped they would find whoever was responsible and arrest them. Let word get back to Patrick. He would see that he couldn’t control everything after all.
Please God, let this be the end of it. But even as I thought it, I knew whatever was happening wasn’t over.
Chapter 22
Blue lights flashed across the ceiling, pulling me from a jittery doze as Morag knocked on the door. The sound was muted, as if she knew Lily was asleep beside me on the sofa and didn’t want to disturb her.
Skip gave a low whine and jumped up, nose quivering while I unbolted the door with frozen fingers. The fire had gone out and the room was cold, though Lily felt warm beneath her blanket when I hurried back and touched her cheek. The dog ignored Morag, but greeted the officer like a long-lost friend. The officer introduced himself as PC Ewan Thomas.
‘Thought about having him myself when I was up at the farm last week, but my wife wasn’t keen.’ He crouched inside the door to tickle the dog under his chin, speaking to him in Welsh. He was a big man, somewhere in his forties, with tightly curled dark hair going grey at the temples. His open, friendly manner was more friendly big brother than officer of the law, but once he’d risen to his full height, and opened his electronic notebook, he was all business. ‘Could you tell me exactly what happened?’
Huddling into Morag’s dressing gown, I sat beside the Moses basket on the sofa and haltingly recounted everything I could remember – which wasn’t much – while Morag refilled Skip’s food bowl before laying logs on the fire, rekindling the blaze.
The officer’s eyes skimmed the side of my head but there was nothing much to see. I’d wiped the wound at the sink in the bathroom once Lily was settled, shocked by my appearance in the mirror: matted hair, red-rimmed eyes and a bruise developing above my cheekbone. I didn’t want Lily seeing me like that, for the image to be filed somewhere in her memory, returning one day to haunt her.
‘Do you have any reason to believe this was a targeted attack?’
I caught Morag’s eye and shook my head, the pain in my temple dulled to an ache by a couple of aspirins I’d found in the dresser drawer. No point saying otherwise. I had no proof. Even if I’d kept the note, I wouldn’t have shown the officer. I couldn’t mention Patrick without breaking my word and besides, I had no desire to say his name out loud. Saying it would bring him into my life when I was so desperate to leave him behind. If my attacker was linked to Patrick and got caught, I was certain he wouldn’t bring his name up either – but I knew he wouldn’t get caught. He was too clever for that.
‘I told you, it’s the same thing that happened at the farm,’ Morag said with a hint of impatience. She pushed her hair back, leaving a trace of ash on her forehead. ‘I know you probably think it’s a wild goose chase and a waste of polic
e time, but I’d appreciate you taking a look around all the same.’ Her voice was low and authoritative, as if she’d made up her mind that since he was here, the officer should make himself useful.
‘I don’t think it’s a waste of time.’ He closed his notebook and removed a torch from the belt around his hips. ‘We’d very much like to catch these young offenders. They’ve been up to no good in Bala and Penllyn too,’ he added, referring to neighbouring villages. When he turned, I saw Heddlu on the back of his jacket above the English translation Police and felt reassured by his presence, his commitment to do his job, though I doubted he’d find any evidence.
Sure enough, he was back five minutes later, shaking his head as he ducked through the door to find us exactly as he’d left us, staring at the fire. ‘Hard to make out footprints on the grass, or which tyre marks belong to what vehicle, and nothing’s been dropped or left behind that I can see.’
Whoever shoved me had used their hands, probably wore gloves. There was no weapon carelessly tossed aside to be found and analysed for fingerprints; no struggle that might have left DNA on my clothes or skin. No words had been exchanged, no car or bike screeching into the night. It might as well have been a ghost. Even Ewan Thomas looked uncertain, the line between his eyebrows deepening as he scanned the room. Maybe he thought I’d been drinking and, unsteady on my feet, had wandered out and tripped over, inventing the assault to cover my embarrassment. Maybe it was only Morag’s presence preventing him from asking.
‘They could be hiding in the woods.’ My words were prompted by a need to convince him something had actually happened. ‘Isn’t it worth a look?’
He looked from Morag to me, his expression sheepish. ‘Not tonight, I’m afraid.’ He tucked his torch back in his belt. ‘Not with so little to go on and no immediate danger. We don’t have the resources. Anyway, they’ll be long gone by now.’