by Ben Cheetham
Pressure. That was the most important thing. She had to keep the pressure on the wound, keep the air flowing in and out of her pain-wracked body. In, out, in out… From somewhere off in the distance she heard an engine. Jim! she thought, but instantly knew she was wrong. It had only been ten minutes or so since they’d spoken on the phone. Not enough time for him to get here, even if he’d been in a vehicle. Besides, he surely wouldn’t have announced his arrival. More likely it was Gavin and Emily leaving in the Land Rover, or perhaps the red van. The engine faded away, seemingly confirming her suspicion.
She closed her eyes and fought to find some calm within herself. Faces flashed across her mind. Her mother’s, Jessica’s, Emily’s. All of them running together like spilled paint. Her head began to nod towards her chest. She snapped her eyes open, feeling to make sure the plastic patch hadn’t come loose. Pressure, she told herself sharply. Breathe in… Breathe out… Pressure, pressure, always pressure…
16
As Gavin locked the barn door, Emily wiped her eyes with a trembling hand and stared at him – the scruffy beard, the long thinning hair, the blood streaming from his torn ear, the dark, devious eyes. Was he really her father? Had he really abducted Anna’s sister? The questions hardly seemed to matter right then. What mattered was getting away from him. Her tearful gaze moved to the trees. An urge to make a run for it clutched her. She broke free of it with a twitch of her head. If she ran, Gavin would kill Anna. She had to stay with him until they were well away from this place and hope she got a chance to give him the slip or maybe phone for help. As though he was listening to her thoughts, Gavin held a hand out to her. ‘Give me your phone.’
She hesitated to do so.
‘Give me your phone,’ he repeated, and this time there was an edge in his voice that made her obey. He brought out Anna’s phone as well and placed both on the ground and picked up a large stone. Shards of plastic went flying as he pulverised them. He took hold of Emily’s arm and guided her back into the house. Pushing her ahead of him, he hurried upstairs to a gloomy bedroom that smelt of incense and sweat. The room was crowded with yet more sculptures. One depicted the Horned God rutting between the legs of a girlishly slender figure. In another he was thrusting against an identical figure from behind. The victim, or offering, or whatever she was supposed to be, had long, straight hair, big eyes, round cheeks and pouty lips. Suddenly it struck Emily that she might have been looking at sculptures based on herself. But she knew it couldn’t be her. Her dad – or, if Anna was to be believed, her granddad – had stopped taking her to Sherwood Forest when she was ten. The figure looked more like that of a teenager balancing on the cusp between childhood and adulthood. Could it be Jessica Young? she wondered. Was she looking at her mother?
Gavin pointed to an unmade bed. ‘Sit.’ As Emily eyed him apprehensively, he added in a softer tone, ‘I’m not going to hurt you. I’d never hurt you, Emily.’
His expression was sincere, his voice soothingly convincing, so much so that she found herself almost believing him. Almost. She lowered herself onto the edge of the mattress. He took a rucksack out of a cupboard. ‘I always keep a bag packed,’ he explained, grabbing a laptop from the floorboards and stuffing it into the rucksack. He slung the bag over his shoulder, before getting hold of Emily again and pulling her downstairs so quickly she almost lost her footing. ‘I have to be ready to run at any time of day or night because of her,’ he jerked his bearded chin towards the back of the house, ‘and because of the McLeans.’
They ran out of the front door to the red Ford Escort van. Gavin pushed Emily into the passenger seat, before darting around to the driver’s side. He chucked the rucksack into the back and started the engine. The wheels chewed up the grass as he accelerated towards the gate. ‘Can you imagine what it’s like to live like that, Emily?’ he continued with a note of self-pity in his voice. ‘To be persecuted and hunted simply because you choose not be what society says you must be? That’s another truth you’ll come to know. What society doesn’t understand, it fears. And what it fears, it destroys.’
The van jolted to a halt at the gate. Gavin jumped out and opened it. His head swivelled from side to side. Seeing that the lane was clear, he ducked back into the van and pressed hard on the accelerator again. They rattled along with the forest on their left and fields of rapeseed blossom on their right. ‘Where are we going?’ asked Emily.
‘First we’re going to get rid of this van. After that…’ Gavin smiled. ‘Well, the world’s our oyster. Where would you like to go?’
Home, thought Emily. But it struck her with a sharp pang of despair that she didn’t know where home was any more. ‘I don’t know,’ she murmured.
‘How about the Philippines? I’ve always fancied living somewhere hot.’
Emily shot a look at him. Was he joking? She couldn’t tell. Although he was smiling, there was no humour in his eyes. She had no intention of staying with him a moment longer than was necessary, but that didn’t stop her from playing along. ‘I haven’t got a passport.’
Gavin made a dismissive motion. ‘A passport is nothing. All you need is belief. Believe in Cernunnos and he will believe in you. Then anything’s possible.’
Is he crazy? wondered Emily. Surely he doesn’t truly believe that crap.
After about half a mile, the trees gave way to fields bordering a farmyard. The lane ended at a busy main road. Gavin scanned it, his gaze lingering briefly on a parked car. Then he made a right turn, heading for the outskirts of what looked to be a village or small town. They passed a sign that read ‘Warsop’. Emily had heard of the place, but never been there before. The road was lined by the usual mix of modest detached and semi-detached houses. People were out walking their dogs, pushing pushchairs, cutting hedges. It seemed somehow incredible to Emily that life simply went on as normal all around when her world was imploding.
Gavin braked at a red light, beyond which a group of workmen were repairing the road. This is my chance, thought Emily. Her hand darted towards the door handle.
Suddenly, Gavin’s hand was on her wrist. His fingers dug in hard enough to make her wince. ‘Don’t.’ His voice was ominously toneless.
‘You’re hurting me!’ Emily retorted, the pain giving her courage. ‘You said you’d never hurt me.’
‘And you said you’d come with me.’
‘Why would I go to the Philippines with you? I don’t even know who you are.’
‘I’m your father.’
For an instant, Emily couldn’t find her breath. I’m your father. The words seemed to echo in her head. Anna had implied as much. But still, hearing him say it hit her like a punch to the chest. The lights changed. Gavin accelerated past the workmen. The chance was gone. ‘So Anna was telling the truth.’
‘Yes and no. Jessica’s your mother, but I didn’t abduct her.’ Gavin’s voice took on a distant quality. ‘We were in love. But her parents tried to keep us apart. You see, I was nineteen and she was your age. I pleaded with her parents, but they wouldn’t listen. They threatened to go to the police, have me brought up on statutory rape charges. So we did the only thing we could do. We ran away together. The police searched everywhere for us, but I knew how to stay hidden from them. I’d already spent a year on the run from the McLeans.’
Emily scrutinised Gavin’s face, as if searching for visible signs of a lie. Was this more bullshit? Or was it the truth he’d promised? He glanced across at her with a kind of pleading in his eyes. ‘Have you ever been in love?’
‘There’s a boy at school,’ Emily began a little awkwardly.
‘Is he the same age as you?’
‘No. He’s in the year above.’
‘And you love him?’
‘I don’t know. Sometimes I think I do, but…’ Emily’s voice faded into uncertainty.
‘You don’t love him,’ stated Gavin. ‘When you love someone, you don’t have to think about it. You just know it. And nobody can stop you feeling what you feel. Not your parents.
Not society. They tell you you’re doing wrong. But there’s no wrong or right in love. True love isn’t about boundaries like age. It’s about breaking free and living your own life, not the life others want you to live. Don’t you wish you could live like that?’
‘I suppose so.’
‘Of course you do!’ That evangelical gleam was back in Gavin’s eyes. ‘Come with me, Emily. Live free. Live for yourself!’
‘But what about—’
‘What about what?’ Gavin broke in, his voice rising impatiently.
‘What about school?’
Gavin snorted. ‘Fuck school. The best thing you could ever do for yourself is unlearn everything you’ve learnt there.’
‘And Mum and Dad? What about them?’
‘You mean Grandma and Granddad,’ corrected Gavin. ‘They’re well-meaning, but they’re fools. They can teach you nothing but how to lead a small life. I can show you how to live your dreams and desires.’
Emily’s gaze dropped away from Gavin. Her heart was palpitating, and not simply because she was scared. His words charged through her like a high-voltage current. The idea of them was thrilling. But at the same time she saw their hollowness. How could Gavin speak of love in one breath and living only for yourself in the next? Surely the two things didn’t go together. And if he loved Jessica so much then why wasn’t she here with them?
‘Besides,’ continued Gavin, ‘even if you want to, you can’t go back to your grandparents. Not if Anna Young lives. She knows you’re not their daughter, and she’ll do everything she can to prove it. She’ll have you taken away from them, put in care. And believe me, that’s the last place on earth you want to be. You’re soft and pure, Emily. The kids in those places are hard and tainted. You wouldn’t last five minutes with them.’
Those words didn’t ring hollow. There was a weight to them that dragged Emily’s head down. Here, finally, was the truth. The life she’d known was over. There was no going back. Gavin might be a liar, he might be a rapist, he might be evil or insane or both. Or he might be what he claimed to be – a victim of circumstance and society. But whatever he was or wasn’t, he was her dad. Maybe he really could teach her something nobody else could teach, give her something nobody else could give. There was only one way to find out – by staying with him. But if she was even going to consider doing that, there was a question she had to have answered first. ‘Where’s my real mum?’
Gavin’s beard twitched. Blinking as though holding back tears, he turned onto a narrow, hedged lane. One silent minute passed. Two. The lane wound its way through some trees. Gavin pulled over in front of a spiked metal security fence that enclosed a brick garage. He cut the engine, drew a shuddering breath. ‘She was killed.’
Emily felt a sharp sting in her heart. ‘How?’
‘By you.’
The pain turned to bemusement. ‘What do you mean? How could I have killed her?’
‘By being born. We couldn’t risk going to hospital for the birth. So I read everything I could about how to deliver a baby. But it wasn’t enough. Jessica was in labour for three days and you just wouldn’t come out. She was exhausted, feverish. I begged her to go to hospital but she refused. She knew they’d take you away from us. Finally your head appeared, then your body and you were…’ Gavin sought the right word. ‘Perfect. I tied off the umbilical cord and cut it. I thought everything was OK, but then came the blood. More blood than I’d ever seen. I tried to stop it, but…’ His voice threatened to break. He closed his eyes, a solitary tear descending his cheek. Emily hesitantly reached to touch his arm, but drew her hand back. His grief looked genuine enough. Even so, she wasn’t ready for the intimacy of sympathy. Not yet.
‘Jessica died right there in front of me,’ murmured Gavin. ‘I was heartbroken. I wanted to die too. I was in no fit state to look after you. So I gave you to Mum and Dad. They’d always wanted a daughter. I knew they’d give you the love I couldn’t.’
‘But why couldn’t you love me?’
‘I wanted to, Emily. More than anything. That’s why I used to come and watch you play. The problem was every time I saw you, I saw Jessica too.’ Gavin’s eyes moved like hands over Emily’s face. Something squirmed inside her as he went on, ‘I saw her in your mouth, your cheeks, your hair. But most of all I saw her in your eyes. The way they glittered like…’ Again, he paused to find the right words, ‘like swimming pools full of diamonds.’
The description was so cheesily over the top that Emily found herself thinking once more, Is he for real?
‘And then this feeling would hit me.’ Emily flinched as Gavin unsheathed his hunting knife. ‘Like all I wanted was to take this out and open up my wrists. I thought time would make things easier. But it didn’t. Every year you grew to look more like Jessica and every year the feeling got stronger. Dad knows me better than anyone. I didn’t need to say anything. He saw how it was. So he made up some excuse to keep you away from me.’
‘So it wasn’t too dangerous for me to see you. It was too dangerous for you to see me.’
Gavin nodded sadly.
‘Then why do you want to be with me now?’
‘When Dad told me the police had come around asking questions, I knew Anna Young had to be behind it. And I knew it was only a matter of time before they worked out who you really were. I realised the time had come for you to learn the truth. And for us to be together, like a father and daughter should be. We have a connection nothing can break, Emily.’ Gavin moved his hand rapidly back and forth between them. ‘Don’t you feel it? Don’t you feel that connection?’
Emily didn’t know what she felt. So much had happened in such a short space of time that she barely knew which way was up and which was down any more. Gavin was willing to do anything to avoid capture. That was one thing she was certain of. She couldn’t get the image of him plunging the knife into Anna out of her mind. There had been such a look in his eyes as he’d done it – a look like she’d never seen before, or ever wanted to see again.
‘I’m not going to apologise for giving you up,’ said Gavin. ‘That would make me as hypocritical as the society I’ve rejected. But I do want to make up for lost time. So I’m asking for a chance – a chance to be a father to you, a chance to call you my own.’
Asking? Emily eyed the bloodstained knife in Gavin’s hand. Was he really asking? Did she really have a choice? Would he sink the knife into her back if she tried to leave him? As these questions crossed her mind, it occurred to her that Gavin still hadn’t answered her original question. ‘You haven’t told me where my mum is.’
‘I gave her to him.’ Gavin pointed to the ignition where a keyring of a red, goat-faced man with horns dangled. ‘And in return he gave me the strength to go on.’
‘What do you mean, you gave her to him?’
He glanced tensely at a passing car. ‘There’s no more time for talking. What’s it going to be, Emily?’
As Gavin spoke, Emily noticed a tightening of his knuckles on the knife. A tremor passed through the blade. A tremor passed through her too. Suddenly she knew. He wasn’t asking. He lived only for himself. Took whatever he wanted. And right now he wanted her. But she didn’t want him. He made her skin crawl with the longing to be anywhere but with him. She knew too that she couldn’t let him see how she felt. She had to bury her revulsion deep. ‘OK,’ she said, and forced herself to add, ‘Dad.’
‘Dad.’ Gavin echoed the word as if it had a flavour he was uncertain of and added one of his own, ‘Daughter.’ He slid the knife back into its sheath. ‘Wait here.’
He got out of the van, unlocked a gate and approached the garage. Softly but quickly, Emily opened the passenger door. She winced at the squeaking of ill-oiled hinges. Gavin glanced towards her. For the space of a breath their eyes met. Then she was sprinting along the lane. She didn’t look to see if he was giving chase, she just pumped her arms and legs as hard as she could. Her heart lurched when, after fifteen or twenty seconds, the van’s engine flared into lif
e. He was coming! Her eyes desperately searched for a gap in the hedge. She spotted a closed farm gate on her right about a hundred metres away. If she could just make it there she reckoned she’d have a good chance of getting away. She was young and fit. Gavin was old – or at least in his forties – and overweight. Surely she could outrun him.
Eighty metres to go. Fifty. Twenty. Go on, go on, her mind urged, you’re going to make it! Beyond the hedge was a grassy field with houses lining its far side. Houses meant people, and people meant help. As she veered towards the gate, she glimpsed the van out of the corner of her eye and knew she was wrong. She wasn’t going to make it. The van was almost on her. She tried to dive out of its way, but Gavin flung open the driver’s side door. It clipped her with stunning force, sending a bolt of pain through her left hip, spinning her into the gate. She rebounded onto the ground, tears clouding her vision. Clutching at the gate, she groggily fought to haul herself upright. ‘Help!’ she cried, although there was no one to hear her except Gavin.
Her voice was muffled by a hand covering her mouth. An arm encircled her waist and lifted her off her feet. ‘I didn’t want it to be this way,’ said Gavin, carrying Emily to the van. She struggled to break free, but the blow had knocked most of the strength out of her. He dumped her onto the passenger seat and climbed in beside her.
‘Liar!’ she spat at him, her voice quivering between anger and fear.