by Dan Moore
‘You were in another world, Freddie.’
‘Just daydreaming, that’s all. I’m a master at it,’ he said, forcing his face back into its most neutral expression. He knew he’d make a poor poker player. ‘That’s why I get so much bother from teachers. “–All that potential… such a waste, blah, blah.” I can’t knuckle down.’
‘You’re doing all right here.’
‘Yeah, but this excites me. This isn’t theory, this is real business. I feel like I’m making a difference.’
‘What, sweeping up?’
‘Haha! I see areas for improvement all the time while I’m working. It wouldn’t take much to–’
But, yet again, he was cut off at the very mention of his grand ideas. ‘My dad is really stubborn. What makes you think he’d listen to a kid?’ she said.
‘A kid?! Thanks a lot.’
As they passed the old barn Jess stopped and released his arm, turning to face him.
‘I’m scared, Freddie. We’re in a far worse state than I feared. I don’t think there’s much more we can do.’
‘So why bother asking me to do all this tidying up?’
‘I don’t know.’
Suddenly there came a loud smash from somewhere behind them. Blood rushed to Freddie’s head. The sound was unmistakable – glass breaking!
‘What was that?’ Jess whispered.
He looked into her eyes, searching for any hint of understanding, of knowing. Nothing. She too, was puzzled.
‘It came from the house,’ he said.
‘I left the back door unlocked! Crap!’
10
He scurried towards the house, kicking up small clouds of dust. An attack on Jess and the family was an attack on him. He felt like a part of the household, and felt it was his duty to protect. But what’d happened? Blood pounded in his ears, his feet hammering the rough ground as they carried him towards the unknown.
He rounded the old barn, the white farmhouse in his sights. He searched the windows as he moved but everything looked as it had at break time – peaceful, like a scene from a perfectly normal day. So what had caused the dreadful noise? He slammed on the brakes, skidding. Hearing frantic footsteps behind, he spun. Jess wasn’t stopping; back straight, arms pumping. Her shoulder brushed his as she tore past him, her face red and blotchy. He had to get there first – he just had to. He couldn’t let her to face whatever evil lurked over at the house alone. He stormed after her.
But keeping up with Jess proved difficult.
‘What can you see?’ he shouted.
‘Oh no!’ he heard her say.
‘What – what is it?’
‘Freddie, I’m so sorry!’
Jogging past the trellis that ran alongside the garden he noticed that Jess wasn’t facing the house at all. She’d stopped beside his… his Corsa.
No! thought Freddie. My baby! My independence! No! Jess blocked his approach, holding out an arm to stop him.
‘Let. Me. See,’ he said, striding right up to her. His bottom lip wobbled. What has happened here? What doesn’t she want me to see?
Jess sighed, stepping aside.
‘No!’
His insides turned to ice. A brick – a common red house brick – lay in a crater of splintered windscreen. It looked as if it’d fallen from space. But Freddie knew that meteorites weren’t brick-shaped. The same thoughts that’d raced through his mind the evening he’d discovered the note of warning on his windscreen did so again. Who’d done this? Why have they done this? But there was only one suspect. Harvey Templeton.
A gut-wrenching pain forced his hands to his stomach. He crouched. Harvey really didn’t like him, and what’s more, wanted him out the way. His instincts told him to run, to flee – to put as much distance between himself and Ridge Farm as he could, and fast. Events had spiralled out of control and he didn’t even know why. What hadn’t he spotted? He knew he’d taken Harvey’s girlfriend out on a date, despite being warned to stay away from her, but would Harvey really take it this far?
‘I don’t understand.’
He’d bought the Corsa with money given to him after the sale of Granddad’s house. It was more than just a car. And the attack, which seemed more than just mindless vandalism, felt personal.
‘Who are you?’ he bawled to the invisible culprit, ‘Coward!’
‘Fre–’
‘Dad’s gonna kill me,’ he said, poking at the splintered windscreen.
‘Wait! Freddie! No! You’ll cut yourself, and contaminate any evidence.’
‘Evidence? This isn’t a TV crime show!’
‘Just come away from it. We’ll go inside and call the police.’
Great! thought Freddie. The police! His relationship with the boys in blue wasn’t exactly a loving one. He felt Jess grab his wrist, pulling him away from the battle-scarred windscreen. Jess led him, clearing a safe passage through the blizzard raging in his mind. He focused on the now, on surmounting one obstacle at a time.
‘Ok. I suppose we have to,’ Freddie said, finally giving in.
He let Jess guide him into the house. Once inside the kitchen he collapsed onto a tableside chair, his head dropping into his palms.
‘I’ll make us a cuppa,’ she said.
‘But why would Harvey do this? Why?’
He lifted his head and watched Jess fill the kettle, before sinking back down to the sanctuary of his clammy hands. He’d block out the world, shield himself from incoming fire, from any form of conflict.
It had to be Harvey Templeton!
‘Yes, that’s correct. Ridge Farm, Ravenby-le-Wold. No, no. Like I said, we didn’t see who threw it. Ok, thank you.’
How long had he been out of it for? His forehead, pressed into the oak table, had gone numb. He lifted his weary head and checked the time on his mobile. He’d been asleep almost an hour. A mug of cold tea awaited his dry, cracked lips.
‘I’ll make you another,’ Jess said, striding over to the table. ‘I didn’t want to wake you.’
What a great friend he’d made in Jess, thought Freddie. She really had taken control of the situation, and he really did appreciate her kindness. But why wouldn’t the fog lift? He needed to think, to assess. Was he in danger? Had he done something which might put Jess and her family in danger too?
‘No it’s ok,’ he said. ‘I’ll drink it cold. It might wake me up a bit.’
Lifting the cup up to his lips, he downed the tea in three giant gulps.
‘What did the police say?’
‘They’re sending an officer over in a bit. We’re not to touch the car.’
‘Well I won’t be driving it anywhere, that’s for sure.’
‘Who’ve you upset?’
‘Harvey, I guess.’
He knew he had to tell her now, just had to. Besides, he couldn’t hold it in any longer and someone else really ought to know.
‘This isn’t the first time.’
‘What, that someone’s thrown a brick at your car? You sure know how to make friends, Freddie.’
‘No, I mean… The other night, I found… I found a note tucked under my windscreen-wiper–’
He waited for her to react. Would she be angry with him for not telling her until now? he wondered. She started playing with her hair, wrapping it around her index finger. He loved the way she did that. She probably did it without realising, he thought, which made it all the more personal.
‘What did the note say?’
‘Go home.’
‘Go home?’
‘Creepy or what!’
‘You should let the police know about this.’
‘If they get here!’
‘Jeez, Freddie. What is it with you and the police?’
‘Now that’s a long story.’
Hearing a vehicle pull up outside, he got up and hobbled over to the sink. He glanced through the window – it wasn’t the police. Elizabeth and Greg, still dressed like city stockbrokers, disembarked the truck. What are they going to think? Why
did trouble follow him everywhere he went?
He winced as Elizabeth’s mouth fell open. Greg shook his balding head.
Behind him, Jess ambled through from the sitting room.
‘Don’t mention the note until the police arrive…I don’t want mum getting all stressed again.’
‘Who did that to your car?’
Freddie backed away from the door as Elizabeth stormed into the kitchen, her complexion darkening to an ominous purple.
‘We don’t know,’ Jess replied. ‘Freddie thinks it might have something to do with Harvey Templeton. The police will be here soon.’
Greg followed his wife into the room, eyes down, quiet.
‘Ursula Hawkins has something to do with this–’
‘Here we go,’ said Jess, sighing. ‘Just sit down, Mum. I’ll make us all a drink.’
‘Yes, good idea, let’s sit around drinking tea while Ursula gives us the finger!’
What was Elizabeth going on about now? thought Freddie. Why would Ursula throw a brick at his car? Did she believe Ursula was to blame for everything? Did she also believe Ursula was at fault for global warming, or the economic downturn?
‘I suppose this isn’t the best time to let you know that Lucas has invited me away for a weekend, next month,’ said Jess, arms folded tightly across her chest.
Freddie’s stomach felt empty. He knew Jess was only trying to divert Elizabeth’s attention, but even so, couldn’t she have gone on about the weather or something? He really didn’t want to think about the things Jess and Lucas would get up to on their weekend away.
‘We’ll discuss this later,’ Elizabeth said, frowning.
‘She’ll be ok,’ Greg said, placing his hands on Elizabeth’s waist, steering her towards a chair. ‘She’s all grown up. And Lucas, well, he’s a sensible lad.’
‘Sensible lad or not, they’re all after the same thing…’
‘Mum, you don’t know–’
‘Oh, I know what he’s after, Jessica. Don’t think I don’t know what you get up to when you go to his house!’
Freddie didn’t know where to look. Jess and Lucas alone – he shuddered – the image pained him.
‘We haven’t, we–’
‘Elizabeth – enough!’ Greg said.
‘I bet Rhona gets like this when you’re dating,’ Elizabeth said, turning to Freddie. ‘Time just flies by. One minute they’re running past your knees, the next minute, well…’
Elizabeth lifted her open palms and looked up at the ceiling, closing her eyes. She looked as if she was surrendering. Freddie backed away towards the worktop, watching as Greg took Elizabeth’s head into his large hands.
‘Everything will turn out fine, dear,’ he whispered. ‘It’ll be a new chapter for us, a fresh start. We’ll be able to put all this behind us.’
What were Elizabeth and Greg talking about, really? wondered Freddie. What had any of this got to do with the attack on his Corsa or with Jess going away with Lucas? Nothing! Pure and simple. Absolutely nothing! He knew what they were discussing. This furore was about the future of Ridge Farm, of the family. Where had they been this afternoon? He’d never felt so awkward. He wanted to evaporate, to slip away. This was a private moment. He felt out of place.
‘It feels wrong,’ Elizabeth said. ‘This is our home, our own little world. I would be lost, be nothing without this place. Oh, my little girl…’
She trailed away, her words choked, indiscernible through the disturbance going on in Freddie’s head. He felt used, deceived. He’d put a lot of effort into tidying the farm. He’d had so many ideas, so much hope for the place, for the family. And now it all seemed to have been a waste. Greg must have wanted the farm to look good for potential buyers.
‘You can’t sell up!’ Freddie cried. ‘You just can’t!’
‘What other option do we have?’ Greg said.
Freddie looked on as Greg cradled Elizabeth’s head, her chin buried deep in his shoulder.
‘My home…’ she sobbed, ‘my home…’
‘If there was anything I could do,’ Greg said, ‘anything, I would.’
‘There is!’ Freddie said. He knew he sounded desperate. But he’d seen room for improvement everywhere. Most of the holes in this boat could be plugged. It wasn’t time to abandon ship just yet. ‘Let me help you. I have so many ideas.’
‘I’ve listened to your ideas, lad. I’m sorry, they’re nothing new. They won’t save us. We’re better off cutting our losses.’
‘Then what harm can it do?’
‘I’ve given it everything I’ve got. We both have. This is our life. Do you really think the ideas of a seventeen year-old lad who’s worked on a farm for less than a week will change anything?’
‘Yes, I do, actually.’
So what do you suggest?’ Greg asked angrily.
‘Well,’ said Freddie, clearing his throat.
Was Greg humouring him? What could he suggest that he hadn’t already? He’d reel off a list, one idea followed by another. Show his boss that he really did believe in this place and its future. But his pitch was interrupted by the sound of another car pulling up outside. He glanced through the kitchen window. The police had arrived.
‘My name is PC Smith,’ said the tall, blunt faced officer. He looked back over his shoulder towards a young officer, who was all twitchy and excitable. ‘And this is PC Atherton. Ok, who is the registered keeper of the vehicle?’
‘Me,’ said Freddie, eyes sweeping the floor, his hand raised like a schoolchild answering a question in class.
‘And what is your name, young man?’
‘Freddie Forster.’
‘Are you sure you don’t want a seat, PC Smith?’ Elizabeth asked, ‘or a drink?’
‘We’re in a bit of a rush, I’m afraid,’ PC Atherton chipped in. PC Atherton seemed a little young to be a police officer, and very eager to please.
‘And was it you who contacted us, Mr Forster?’ asked PC Smith, pencil poised over an open notebook.
Hadn’t the receptionist at the police station, or whoever had taken the call, relayed any of this information to the two officers? He wanted to rip into them, to give them a piece of his mind. He just needed an excuse. His car, his pride and joy, had been damaged. To them, he was an incident number, something to be ticked off.
‘No, that was me,’ said Jess, just in time, as if reading his thoughts.
‘And did you see who threw the object?’
‘No. But we heard the glass breaking – me and Freddie. It took us about a minute or two to get over here. We saw no one.’
‘But we all know who did it,’ said Elizabeth, ‘who ordered it!’
Freddie grimaced, and Greg and Jess sighed loudly.
‘Oh? And who might this be?’
‘Ursula Hawkins,’ said Elizabeth, struggling to get her words out quick enough. ‘Lives down at the manor.’
‘Come on Elizabeth, love,’ Greg said.
‘And what are you basing these allegations on?’ asked PC Smith, leaning forward, his expression unreadable.
Freddie watched as Greg drew his lips in, wrinkles scrunched up, his eyebrows meeting in the middle.
‘I’m sorry,’ Elizabeth said. ‘It’s been a long day. It’s just… she’s – she’s been a thorn in my side since I was a kid. I wouldn’t put it past her, that’s all.’
‘It hardly sounds likely though, does it? But we’ll follow it up. I leave no stone unturned, I assure you,’ said PC Smith. ‘Have any of you seen anyone acting suspiciously in the last few days?’
‘No,’ said Elizabeth.
Greg shook his head.
‘No,’ said Jess.
‘Yes!’
All eyes turned to Freddie. He gulped.
‘I saw a lad the other day out on the public footpath – the one that cuts through the farm. He was leaning up against a bale, watching me work.’
‘And what was so suspicious about this lad?’
‘Well, err, he’s umm,’ stutt
ered Freddie.
‘Yes?’
What other way could he phrase this? He couldn’t.
‘He’s meant to be dead!’
Elizabeth returned from the living room, a crinkled photo clutched between trembling fingers. She handed it to PC Smith, who glanced at it briefly, before passing it on to Freddie.
‘This is the lad you saw?’
Noel Davidson looked back at him, an arm draped around Elizabeth’s shoulder.
‘Yep, I’m sure of it,’ said Freddie, handing the photograph back to PC Smith. The sight of Ursula’s dead step-brother made him squirm. ‘His clothes were torn, his hair messy, and he looked a bit grubby, but it was definitely him.’
PC Smith scribbled something in his notebook.
‘Well we’ll certainly follow up on this, Mr Forster, though it does seem a little farfetched.’
‘I know what I saw.’
Freddie glanced across at Elizabeth, recognising that knowing look in her eye. He’d gone and lit something he knew would be difficult to extinguish.
‘Well I don’t believe in ghosts,’ said PC Smith, matter-of-factly. ‘Yes, I’ve heard the rumours, the tales. Perhaps you’re letting these stories get to you?’
‘Believe what you want,’ Freddie said. ‘Besides, it was a local yob who attacked my car. Harvey Templeton.’
‘And what are you basing this assumption on?’ PC Smith asked.
‘He threatened me down at the local pub for talking to his ex-girlfriend,’ Freddie replied.
‘Did anyone witness this?’
‘No.’
‘As I said, we’ll follow up every lead. Is there anything else? Something you haven’t told us?’
His thoughts turned to the note. Should he tell the police?
Jess coughed.
This felt too personal. He wanted to be the one to solve this. Something about Noel’s lookalike bugged him too. He knew he was missing something, something in plain sight, overlooked by everyone else. He’d keep quiet about the note, for now. He knew it was Harvey’s doing, yet it didn’t add up.
Suddenly, without warning, his shin burst open, the pain shooting up his leg. Wincing, he glared at Jess. She glowered back. She’s only gone and bloody kicked me!
‘No, nothing comes to mind,’ he said, struggling to compose himself.