He couldn’t hear anything.
Maybe they’d gone.
Maybe they were waiting.
Waiting for what?
For him to make a move.
I’m going back to sleep, he decided, but of course he couldn’t.
The silence and the darkness around him felt as if they’d come alive. They were listening, watching. It was almost as if they were about to talk to him.
What would they say, the silence and the darkness? They were cold and threatening, they would say cold, threatening things. Things about dying, about people who should be friends hating each other, about bad people always coming out on top.
He tried to sing to himself, but the words wouldn’t come.
Something bumped on the tarmac outside.
Help.
No, wait, I know that noise, I’ve heard it before.
Slowly, slowly, he rolled towards the door.
Mustn’t make a sound.
He reached the door and peered under it. Outside, a streetlight glared, and he could see the car outside the next-door garage. It was a Volvo. And he could see what he knew he would. The tyres had gone. Someone had jacked them. That’s what the bump was, rubber on tarmac. He’d heard it, seen it, hundreds of times.
The thieves had vanished.
Relief flooded through him. He wanted to dance around the garage, hugging the darkness and silence and giving them kisses.
He could even have sworn the mattress smelled sweet.
He curled up.
Mags, that’s it. Mags understands. One of her hiding places, she can hide me. Now Fleet’s gone. She can hide me instead of Fleet.
Then what?
Then nothing. Something will happen.
Something will happen.
Something.
‘Robbie.’
Oh, no.
Did he hear that? Did he hear someone calling him?
He was imagining it.
Sleep now.
There was that tightness in his gut again.
I need a doctor, that’s what I need, he thought.
I’ve handled the silence and the dark and a bunch of tyre-jackers.
Anyway.
I imagined it.
See a doctor.
Go to sleep.
Mags. She’ll sort it. She knows.
It’s so dark. All the moonlight’s gone now.
‘Robbie.’ There it came again.
No, no, he thought. I don’t want this.
It was outside. It always started outside. He felt as if he was being invaded.
It was a girl’s voice. Her voice. No singing.
What did she want?
He began to panic. What can I do? How can I stop her? How long will all this go on for?
The garage door trembled, as if a strong gust of wind had blown against it.
Then it began to open.
He couldn’t move. He tried, but he couldn’t. Was something holding him, or was he dreaming?
He couldn’t see anything in the darkness of the garage, but he could hear the door opening and there was light out there. Just enough, now, to see her, there was light about her, there was always light about her, and not just the streetlight.
He began to feel her pain again, like he had in the wood.
There she was. Black tights, boots, denim, long blonde hair. She was looking at him. For the first time he could sense her anger. Intense, vengeful.
What does she want?
Then something changed. She didn’t look the same any more.
Who did she look like?
He thought, she looks, it’s weird, she looks like Mum, when she was young, in pictures, how she used to be. I never saw her like that.
Something changed again, and again, over and over, and it was as if she had thousands of faces, passing like clouds across the moon on a windy night.
Then she was gone.
The door shut.
He was trembling. The sweat was cooling on his skin.
At least the pain had gone too.
He was left with the fear, biting into him.
And the silence and the darkness were laughing at him.
Told you so, they were saying.
He wanted to turn on the torch, but he couldn’t in case anyone saw the light.
Not if he put it under his t-shirt, though. Just for a bit.
That was better. Much better.
He curled up round the torch. The light shone through, but softly, only for him.
17
ALICE SHOOK him awake. He sat up blearily and the torch fell to the floor. She leaned over and picked it up.
‘You’ve used up all the battery, you muppet,’ she exclaimed, annoyed. ‘How’m I going to explain that, then?’
‘Batteries run out. It’s not that unusual.’
‘You’re going to get me in trouble, I know it.’
‘You can get new ones.’
‘And who’s going to pay for them? Here, I’ve grabbed you a banana and some more water.’
‘Wicked.’
A banana had never tasted so good.
‘What are we going to do with you, Robbie?’
‘I really don’t know. Alice?’
‘Uh huh?’
‘Have you got a laptop?’
‘Yes. Why?’
‘I need one.’
‘What for?’
‘I’ve got something I need to see. It’s a memory stick. I found it, and I know it’s important, but I don’t know what’s on it.’
‘I’ll need my laptop for school, but you could use our computer, I suppose. It’s risky, though.’
‘Listen. You remember all that stuff I was telling you about Mags and the hare and the girl and these kind of visions I’m having? Well, it happened again last night. The garage door opened and there she was, and she kept changing, like she was lots of girls, lots of women I didn’t recognize. Hundreds, thousands of them.’
He held her wrist, looking at her pleadingly.
She gave him a worried look, then made up her mind.
‘Okay, here’s the deal,’ she said. ‘I am going to get you a key to our house. Mum’s going out, but leave it till eleven, just in case.’ She told him how the alarm worked. ‘So don’t mess up, Robbie boy, or I’m in a lot of trouble.’
A few hours later and he was in the house. There were photographs on the wall and on the shelves, Alice and her dad, Alice and her mum, Alice and her mum and dad, all of them together.
He found the computer, switched it on and put in the memory stick.
Out of nowhere, there was someone on the screen, scruffy and fluffy and blonde and laughing. It was Mags, Mags as he’d never seen her before, she was so happy. She kept waving at the camera, then doubling up with laughter. The camera was moving, he could hear whoever was holding it was laughing too.
They were sitting outside somewhere, the sun was shining, and there was a house in the background. It could be ours, thought Robbie. Whoever was holding the camera got up, bringing more of the house into view, and he was right, it was his house. This must have been filmed when Mags lived there.
The camera swung over to the person Mags was talking to, and Robbie thought, this can’t be happening. It was Billy Strickland, and he was telling some story, but then the camera turned again and there was Tommy. The camera zoomed in and he gave it a big, loving grin, leaned forward and there was a squeal. The camera swung up to the sky and the screen went blinding white and turned into a green blur – the grass, Robbie guessed. The camera straightened out and focused on Tommy Strickland again and he was laughing, and Billy was still telling his story and Mags was still giggling, but the camera was only interested in Tommy, who was giving it a look that was partly teasing, partly possessive. There was a flash of something cold, evaluating, in his gaze.
Then Tommy was turning to his brother and listening to his story, which was about a fight outside the pub. The camera stayed on Tommy, and after a bit he got up, looked at the
lens and swaggered off towards the house. The camera followed as he went round the corner and disappeared from sight. The camera swung again, to find Mags with her arms over Billy’s shoulders. The scene changed abruptly and the camera was behind Tommy, climbing the stairs, going into what was now Robbie’s room, and Tommy was throwing himself on to an unmade bed saying, ‘You’d better put that away.’
Robbie couldn’t at first make out what was on the screen next, but the camera moved and he could see a girl’s back. He heard Strickland’s voice saying, ‘Turn round.’ She said, ‘I’m not doing this for you, Tommy,’ and she reached for a white dressing gown and put it on, before she turned.
It was her.
Robbie knew it would be.
‘Come on,’ said Tommy, wheedling.
She started to sway, running her hands through her hair.
‘How do I know who you’re going to show this to?’
‘No one, I swear it. Do it. Do it for me, beautiful.’
‘I love it when you call me that,’ she said quietly.
She started to sway again, and giggled, and began to untie the dressing gown cord, then it all stopped. Robbie wondered if someone had edited it.
Suddenly the screen showed a deep red sun sinking among clouds that looked like hair does when you’ve pulled a comb through it the wrong way. There was a plain down below. They were up on the beacon.
‘Gorgeous,’ came Mags’s voice. ‘My favourite place in the world, this.’
‘I love coming here with you.’ It was the girl, Fran, talking from behind the camera.
‘Just us.’
‘Just us.’
‘I’m amazed you can tear yourself away from Tommy, Fran.’
‘Oh, I can. It’s doable.’ She laughed. ‘Dead trippy, this sunset.’
‘When’s he finishing college?’
‘Next year.’
‘Then he gets one of the farms, right?’
‘Well, it’s been hard for his mum since his dad died. She needs some help.’
‘What’s his mum like? I mean, I know her, but what’s she really like?’
‘She’s okay. I mean, I think she thinks I’m too young for him.’
‘Well, you are.’
‘So are you.’
‘Yeah, but two years not four. Or is it five? And we’re just friends. Not like you two.’
‘I’m seventeen. I can do what I like. Anyway, I’m not counting.’
‘You stick to him like a burr.’
Don’t go there, Mags, thought Robbie. Maybe I don’t know much, but I know not to criticize other people’s relationships.
Nothing was said for a while. There was only half the sun left. The camera tilted slightly. The world seemed filled with quiet content.
‘There’s something I want to show you,’ said Mags. The camera turned to show her on screen, leaning against the big grey rock. ‘Before the light goes.’
‘Is it a secret?’
‘So secret you die if you tell anyone. Maybe you’ll need it one day. We all need to hide things sometimes.’
‘Mags?’
‘Yeah?’
‘You’re right. I’m crazy about him.’
‘I could guess.’
‘Do you think he wants the same things, Mags?’
They were walking towards the chamber, blood-red with the last rays of the sun.
There was much, much more. All of Tommy Strickland. She had filmed him everywhere, in pubs, shops, woods and fields. It was as if she was feeding off him. And he was always behaving as if he could do anything he wanted with her. Anything. It seemed ridiculous, pathetic, even, to Robbie. It began to make him feel sick.
So did the final scenes. She was following him down a street. He kept looking round, and when he did the camera stopped, until he started walking again. He could hear Fran breathing hard, and sometimes there was a strange whimper which must have been her too, and all at once a wild screaming wail.
‘Please, Tommy.’
He stopped and walked back towards her. There was a quiet, terrified ‘oh’ from Fran.
His eyes were narrowed and mean, his lips thin, his nostrils dilating. Robbie could see his fists clenching. Tommy stooped towards the camera.
‘I’ve told you, Fran. I’ve told you so many times.’ His voice was soft and low. ‘It’s over. So over I never want to see you again. Do you get me? You’re a boring, little, whining little girl, you’re stupid, you’re ugly, I don’t want you, I don’t love you, I never loved you, I never even liked you. I don’t care if you throw yourself in a river, or cut yourself, or any of those things you say you’re going to do. I’ll even lend you a razor. Do it, Fran. The world will be a better place. Now get out of my face or I swear, girl, I’ll do it for you. And I mean that. And you know I could, and you know I would. And NEVER follow me again. End of the picture show.’
He lunged and the sequence stopped.
The screen turned dark green. They were in a wood. Fir trees, packed together, not much light. There was Mags, sitting on a log, smoking a cigarette. That’s interesting, thought Robbie, I’ve never seen her do that. She was sitting in a shard of sunlight.
‘I wish you wouldn’t,’ said Mags, looking at the camera.
‘You never minded before.’
‘It’s not a joke any more. You’re not a joke any more.’
‘Was I a joke?’
‘In a good way. Then in a bad way. Not now. Not at all.’
‘Are you dropping me, Mags?’ Her voice was flat, as if she didn’t care, anyway.
‘I love you. You know I love you. But you need to see a doctor. You need to get yourself sorted.’
No answer.
‘Will you see a doctor? Please?’
Still no answer.
Then something different.
It was Fran. She had the camera trained on her face, which was pale and ghostly as if all the blood had been drained out of her. She was lovely, though, Strickland had been wrong about that. Her hair flooded around her face. And her eyes were deep, dark blue, sea blue. They were rolling with unhappiness. There were tears in them, but she was too far gone to cry.
‘I can’t live without him,’ she whispered. ‘I hate him for what he’s done to me, but that’s not enough. I can’t bear the pain inside me. It won’t go away. I’ve tried everything, but … nothing works long enough, it always comes back. There’s only one thing I can do now.’
Something strange was happening. The screen started getting cleaner, clearer, almost as if it was real, as if it was really her looking at him, her eyes seeing, without tears somehow, into his.
‘Don’t run away, Robbie. Finish it.’
For a moment he couldn’t move. Then, almost automatically, he replayed.
‘There’s only one thing I can do now.’
This time nothing changed.
‘Finish it.’
So it didn’t happen, he thought. It wasn’t her. It wasn’t her talking to him, telling him to go back. Telling him he was part of it. That he couldn’t run away. She was talking about her stricken self.
Except he knew it was.
He put the memory stick in his pocket. It was time to show Mags.
He made his way out of the house, and as soon as he stepped outside there was a wild ringing in his ears. For a second he felt utterly bewildered, then he realized. The alarm. He hadn’t set it properly, hadn’t done whatever it was Alice had told him he had to do. But how could he remember what to do, he thought to himself bitterly, after what he had just seen?
He was running down the pavement when a police car drew alongside.
And who was in the passenger seat?
‘Interesting sleepover,’ said his acquaintance from the night before. Why did they always go in for sarcasm? thought Robbie. It was so undignified.
‘Get in,’ the policeman said crisply.
18
NOBODY SAID a thing. Not one thing.
Sheila wouldn’t even look at him. Maybe he had
won this time. His dad kept smiling at him and touching him awkwardly, as if he was just making sure he was real.
Sometimes, he thought to himself, everything in life is just wrong.
He was lying on his bed.
That policeman was kind of okay, really. It’s strange to find people being good to you when you don’t expect them to be.
‘I’ll come quietly,’ Robbie had said to him, when he’d recovered from the shock. The shock of the police being there, plus the shock of the alarm, plus the shock of Fran.
To his surprise, he’d received a big grin in return. He’d got in the back and the policemen both turned to look at him.
‘Run away from home, have you?’
‘How d’you know? I mean, I could’ve been breaking and entering.’
‘Then the alarm would’ve gone off when you were entering, wouldn’t it? Your friend let you in?’
‘Sort of.’
‘We’ll work something out for you. In trouble?’ Robbie nodded. ‘Don’t worry, son. I ran away once.’ There was a look on his face, as if he understood. ‘Homes aren’t always sweet, are they? My stepdad terrorized me and my mum. I didn’t go back until he left.’
‘Didn’t you hate her for letting him do it?’
‘Yeah, yeah, I did. For a long time.’
‘He goes to see her every Sunday,’ said the other one, pulling the car out into the traffic. ‘He’s such a softie, mate, we don’t know what to do with him.’
*
Now he’d been back a few days, he’d been to school, and he’d said sorry to Alice, though it turned out the alarm had switched itself off after half an hour. When he told her what he’d seen, she’d been horrified.
‘Poor Fran,’ she said. ‘Poor, poor Fran.’
‘Yeah.’
‘So that was who you saw in the wood?’
‘Yeah.’
‘That is so terrible.’ She looked at him for a long time. Then she asked him what he was going to do about it, and if he had said anything to Mags. And he said no he hadn’t, because he hadn’t seen her.
‘Well, you’d better tell her soon,’ said Alice.
*
There was a knock at the door.
‘Are you there, Robert?’
Lucy. The only person who called him that, usually when she wanted to annoy him.
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