by Helen Phifer
‘Yes, normally I can see and hear them. I don’t seem to be able to at the moment.’
‘Alfie is acting like an amplifier.’
‘Oh God, that’s terrible. Does that mean he’s seeing what I’m seeing in these dreams?’
‘No, he wouldn’t understand them. His brain isn’t developed enough, thankfully. But what is happening is he’s acting like a booster signal – a bit like those boxes you can buy to improve your broadband.’
‘What am I going to do, Derek? I don’t want this kind of life for him.’
‘I’m afraid there’s nothing you can do at the moment. When he’s older and things have progressed, then we can look at putting in place some blocks and strategies to help him cope. For all we know he might grow out of it. Not all babies of psychic parents have the same gift that their parents do. He could grow up just a little bit sensitive, but not a full-blown medium.’
‘I hope you’re right, Derek. What do I do in the meantime?’
‘I’m not sure. I haven’t had a lot of experience in this kind of thing. I’ll ask a few of my friends from the group and see what they think. Just keep out of it as much as you can. Where are these murders happening?’
‘Barrow.’
‘Then don’t go to Barrow unless it’s desperate. Try and keep calm when you’re around Alfie. Maybe you could try sleeping in a different room to him? That could lessen the bond.’
Alfie began to squirm, his face going bright red. He opened one eye and let out a high-pitched scream. Annie tucked the phone under her ear with her shoulder and leant down, unbuckling him and picking him up. He was screaming louder than their burglar alarm.
‘I’m sorry, Derek, I’m going to have to go and feed the little man; thank you so much.’
‘No problem; call me if you need me and I’ll be in touch.’
‘Bye.’
‘Be very careful, Annie. Bye.’
__________________________
But the line went dead and she never heard his last warning. Derek lay back against his pillows, replacing the phone in its handset. His stomach was churning and he had an awful feeling in his chest – very similar to the first time he’d ever set eyes on Annie Graham. She’d been in the audience at the spiritualist church where he was a guest speaker when he’d had to deliver the message to her that she was in grave danger. He just hoped it was him being overly sensitive and not a warning from beyond, because he wasn’t sure how many lives the very lovely Annie Graham had left.
Chapter Eighteen
Will drove as fast through the windy lanes and roads as was safe, thankful it was still early enough that they weren’t full of tourists driving fifteen miles an hour while taking in the views. When he finally got onto the A590 to Barrow, he put his foot down. He regretted not having the chance to speak properly with Annie. As soon as he got a minute he would phone Lily and ask her to go check on her. Lily loved having things to do, and if she could lure Annie out of the house and get her to go shopping, that would give her a break.
He’d never seen her looking so tired and pale; maybe they needed a holiday. Could you take babies on planes to hot countries? He didn’t have a clue. He would ask Adele. She would know this stuff. Being a parent was very new to him, not to mention scary. He’d never felt anything like the love he felt for that little guy who was a combination of him and Annie. He’d never even considered being a parent would be so brilliant, even though the sleepless nights weren’t much to shout about.
He couldn’t wait until he could take Alfie to play rugby; Will loved it and had only given up because he spent more time off the pitch with injuries than he did on it. It just wasn’t a sport for a man his age. Not that he was old; he was just a bit too old to be getting elbowed in the groin and stamped on every Sunday morning.
Before he knew it he was on Abbey Road – one of the main roads into town, with a view of the hospital he was all too familiar with because of Annie’s run-ins with violent men. He drove past Abbey House Hotel, which was a beautiful sandstone building. He finally reached the traffic lights and the turn for Park Drive where he could access the public park. He pulled into the car park where there were an assortment of police and the CSI van. Debs was suited and booted, all raring to go. He nodded at her.
‘Morning. Have you done the preliminaries?’
‘Not yet, thought I’d wait for you.’
Brad, who had been first in the office this morning, came sauntering over with Adele, who had been coming in as he was leaving and he’d asked her to go with him.
‘Boss.’
‘Brad, what have we got then?’
‘One of the homeless guys who’d taken to sleeping under the bridge – it’s a right mess. There’s blood everywhere. Some of the ducks and that huge fucking swan over there, which keeps going for everyone when they try and get near the body, are covered in it. They must have been paddling in it.’
He pointed to a swan whose white feathers were tinged pink and bright red. It was flapping at the side of the lake next to the body under the bridge.
Will ran a hand through his hair. ‘Bollocks.’
‘Exactly.’
‘What are we going to do? Is there any way to chase it off?’
Adele shrugged. ‘I’ve asked the guy who runs the boathouse if he can lend us a boat so one of us can maybe go on the lake and shoo the swan away.’
Brad started laughing and Will glared at him.
‘Have you got a better idea, Brad?’
He shook his head. ‘Call the RSPCA or that woman who deals with birds?’
‘We can’t wait hours for someone to come. Brad, you go and get a rowing boat and test your skills. You can row over and try and chase it away.’
‘Ha-ha, good one, boss.’
Will stared at him. ‘I’m not joking. I want you in a boat and ready to go in five minutes.’
Brad stopped laughing and frowned. ‘Why is it always me?’
‘Because Stu’s no longer with us and you are. Stop moaning about it. You know how to row a boat, don’t you?’
Brad turned and walked off, not even answering him, and Adele began to laugh.
‘Are you always so hard on him?’
‘No, but he has this way of annoying the shit out of me with his insensitive personality and it’s far too early for this. It’s warm now. If we can’t get to the body soon it’s going to stink even worse than what it does now and I’m certainly not going out in a rowing boat.’
He winked at Adele who laughed again. ‘No, me neither. Should I ring the RSPCA just in case?’
‘Better had; we need to close the park. There are far too many entrances and ways to look across here and see that bloodbath. I don’t want to lose any evidence or have families coming here to feed the ducks and being greeted by the blood-soaked swan and a body under the bridge. Have we got any witnesses?’
Adele pointed to a scruffy-looking man in his late fifties sat on a bench with a half-empty bottle of Lambrini tucked between his feet.
‘Meet Mr Ian Gibbs – best friend of the victim, one Billy Marks. Apparently they had a bit of a falling out over some woman last night and he left Billy here on his own about nine o’clock. He returned about six this morning to say sorry and share his bottle of Lambrini with him and found his body and that angry swan. He keeps mumbling about a freaky clown he saw as he was leaving the park by the entrance on Abbey Road.’
Will looked across at him. He didn’t look as if he was covered in dried blood, but he could have been somewhere to get changed, then come back feeling guilty. This was the second time he’d heard a clown mentioned. He needed to look into that as well.’
‘Let’s have him in then.’
Will waved over one of the officers who was standing trying to shoo the birds away from the scene.
‘Because he was the last to see the vic, I want him bringing in for questioning. Can you do the honours?’
The officer looked over at the smelly, dirty, drunken man and grimaced
. ‘Yes, sir.’
‘All you need to do is get him booked in. He’s not in a fit state to question yet. We’ll let him sleep it off, then he can have a shower and a hot meal. One of us will be back in time to do the rest.’
‘No problem.’
‘Thank you.’
There was a loud splash and a lot of squawking coming from the lake and Will turned around in time to see Brad, who was standing up in the boat, waving an oar at the swan. He leant too far on one side and tipped the old wooden rowing boat. It all happened in spectacular slow motion as Brad tried his best to balance himself out and failed miserably. Adele gasped and Will grinned as there was an even bigger splash when he hit the water and actually screamed.
‘Fucking bastard bird.’
Will had to turn away. Every officer, PCSO and person allowed in the area was now watching Brad and laughing behind their hands. Brad was now sat in the not so deep lake covered in slime, algae and bird shit. It was at this point that the photographer who Will disliked with a passion managed to capture the shot of the century, which would grace the local paper and the nationals in the next twenty-four hours. Will buried his head in his hands.
‘I don’t believe this. You couldn’t make it up.’
He shouted at the nearest officer, ‘Get that bloody photographer out of here now!’
The swan, which had finally given up its watch, began to swim away to the far side of the lake and Will thought it must have realised that if Brad got hold of it he’d wring its neck and not think twice about it, because it was swimming pretty fast.
__________________________
Walter woke up and moved his head to see if it still felt as if it was going to explode. It hurt but not like it had earlier. He stood up and found that he could walk without feeling dizzy and he actually felt hungry for the first time today. He opened the fridge door, remembered he still hadn’t been shopping and slammed it shut.
He went to the drawer in his bedroom, pulling out the sock he’d hidden his emergency twenty-pound note in. Taking it out, he tucked it in his pocket. That would be enough to buy some junk food from the corner shop to put him on until tomorrow. He pulled his jacket on and ran his fingers through his hair, then left.
It was surprising how much better he felt now he didn’t have the weight of that stupid clown costume lying heavy on him. It all felt as if it was a bit of a dream. None of it seemed real. The smell of Mrs Batta’s latest concoction filled his nostrils and his stomach groaned as he walked through the communal entrance. He wondered what it would be like to go in her flat, sit down and eat a proper home-cooked meal. It had been so long.
He reached the corner shop, which was full of kids buying bags of sweets and cans of pop. A couple of them were chased out of the shop by the miserable bloke who ran it and Walter had to hide his smile to hear them outside, calling him an old fart. He picked up a basket, filling it with crisps, chocolate bars and cans of Coke. He studied a packet of bacon, but the thought of cooking it made him put it back. There was a packet of microwave sausages on the shelf, with a bright yellow reduced sticker, and he picked it up. Could you really microwave a sausage? He didn’t care. For a quid he’d give it a go.
He grabbed a loaf of bread and four cans of Stella and took his basket to the counter. The grumpy bloke scanned his stuff and held out his hand for the money without so much as a please or thank you, which really pissed Wally off. He hated rude people; it didn’t take much to say please, did it? He passed him his money then held his hand out for his change, scowling the whole time. As he went outside, the two kids who’d been chased out approached him.
‘Hey, mister, will you go in and get us our fags, please?’
Wally looked at them. How old were they? Eleven, twelve?
‘I don’t think you’re old enough to smoke, are you?’
‘Nah, but what difference does it make to you if we kill ourselves?’
Wally shrugged. None, he supposed. He held out his hand for their money and they passed over a five-pound note, just like that. Christ, he’d have to have done a paper round for a full month when he was their age to get that.
‘Ten Lambert & Butler, mate.’
Wally had no idea if this was enough money, but he went inside and asked for the cigarettes. The owner gave him the packet and very little change. Wally went out and handed them over.
‘Thanks, mister, I’m dying for a fag.’
He stared at the boy. ‘You’re welcome.’
Then he turned and walked away. They might have been cheeky and too young but at least they had manners, which was more than the shopkeeper did. He smiled to himself as he crossed the road and walked past the entrance to the park, which was sealed off with blue and white police tape. A PCSO was standing there guarding the entrance and he felt his heart skip a beat. What if she knew it had been him who’d done it? He felt his skin get clammy and his head began to throb once more.
The PCSO looked at him and Wally nodded, smiling. She smiled back and Wally kept on walking. He needed to get home because he would be safe there. He also needed to do something about this crushing paranoia. As he finally reached the front door to the flats he breathed out a sigh of relief. After letting himself into his flat he locked the door behind him.
Turning around, he saw the clown suit hanging from the coat hanger on the back of the door where he normally kept it. He dropped the bag of shopping. His mouth opening in shock, he looked around. This couldn’t be real, could it? How the fuck did that get back here? Someone must have followed him when he took it to the park. They must have watched him dump it and then waited for him to leave before they put it back.
There’s only one problem with that scenario, Walter: how did they get in? You locked up behind you. You went back for it and didn’t even know, just like you killed the man in the park. You have no idea why you’re killing strangers, do you? He shook his head and ran to check the bedroom and bathroom windows. No, someone must have got in through an open window. Both windows were shut and not only that, locked tight with the small key.
His heart racing and the blood pounding in his head, he went back into his living room. Maybe he’d just hallucinated and it wasn’t there at all. He walked in and felt his legs give way from underneath him. There in all its bloodstained glory was the clown suit. Hanging there as if it belonged and had never been moved. He didn’t know what to do or what was going on, but he couldn’t take his eyes off the suit.
Summer 1950
Colin didn’t go back to the circus; he didn’t want to be there on his own. None of the others would help and it wouldn’t be the same. He had nowhere to go and when he’d left the hospital he had wandered around the market in the town. The circus had stopped in for the next two days. He’d slept in the park and been glad it was warm; if it had rained he would have been in trouble. He didn’t know what to do now. He couldn’t go home because he didn’t have one. He had been lost and confused when the woman who owned the fruit and vegetable stall had spoken to him. She had been watching him the last two days as he’d wandered aimlessly.
‘Here, what’s up with you, lad? You look as if your world has been torn apart.’
He thought about it then nodded. It had. She held out the biggest red apple he’d ever seen and smiled at him.
‘Go on, take it. You look as if you could do with a good meal and a hot bath. Have you no one to take care of you?’
He took the apple, turning it around in his hand and marvelling at how colourful it was. Then, realising what she’d said, he shook his head.
‘I’m on my own and I don’t know where I am or where to go. Thank you for the apple. I’m starving.’
__________________________
She watched as he bit into the apple and the juice ran down his chin. He reminded her of her son Freddy; he’d been called up and gone to war to fight those bloody Germans and hadn’t come home. It had almost finished her off not being able to say goodbye to the son she had idolised since the day she’d fir
st set eyes on him. He’d been such a good boy – always ready to help her – and he’d often work the stall for her if she was having a bad day and couldn’t get out of the house.
She didn’t know if she was going to regret this, but maybe this lad had been sent to find her for a reason. She could help him; not much, but she could offer him a room to stop in and some food and clothes. In return he could run the stall for her. It was getting harder. Her bloody fingers and knees ached from the moment she woke up until she went to bed and then if she got any sleep it was a bleeding miracle. She held out her hand towards him.
‘I’m Maggie Wilkes and this is my stall. I’m after a helper if you’re interested and in return I can give you a room and lodgings. I can’t pay you much, though.’
He took her hand and shook it. ‘I’m Colin. I was going to be a clown until they dropped a pole on my head and my friend got put in prison.’
Maggie stared at him with her mouth open. ‘Well, dearie me, I’m afraid this won’t be as exciting as circus life, but it will be something until you find your way again. What do you say?’
He smiled at her, nodding his head up and down. ‘Yes, I say yes. Thank you, Maggie.’
__________________________
The cell was sparse. He didn’t mind it, though. It was better than many other places he could be. He’d never regained his speech after the accident in the circus and whenever they had asked him if he was guilty he’d shrug. He didn’t know what was going to happen, but he knew it was going to be bad. He’d kind of resigned himself to his fate. He couldn’t speak; he couldn’t stand straight without getting terrible headaches because of the damage the huge wooden pole had caused that awful day. And if he couldn’t work the circus there was no point in living anyway.