The Heights

by Juliet Bell

  Chapter Forty-Six

  2008

  Luke tried to go to the quiet place inside his head. He tried to picture his rows of carrot seedlings. When that didn’t work he tried to think about what it would have been like to be Kate’s dad, quietly dying in the night with nobody around to disturb him. Sometimes, if Luke closed his eyes and tried really hard to let his mind just drift away, he could almost imagine that he was dying. It was a soft, gentle feeling as if he was floating away from this house and into somewhere calm and ordered.

  Today even that wasn’t working. The noise was too much. And the dirt. A thin layer of dust was drifting from the hallway into the living room, despite Luke’s continuing efforts to close the door and keep the mayhem at bay. He gave up trying to screen it out and peered into the hallway. The hole in the wall to next door was big enough for a man to walk through now, the brickwork above supported by a metal prop. Luke shuddered. In his mind’s eye he could see the whole house – both houses – collapsing around him, starting with a small wayward fall of dust that nobody would even notice, and then a crack forming right in front of him above that prop, and then the crack extending across the ceiling until the whole thing fell down, burying him under bricks and tiles and dirt.

  ‘What you doing, loser?’ Harry pushed passed him and shimmied through the hole in the wall. On the other side, Luke could see other men moving around, swinging tools and laughing and joking. They seemed to be different every day, a mix of Yorkshire, Scouse and Irish accents alongside a couple of Eastern Europeans. But they turned up and bashed holes in stuff. They seemed cheerful enough so long as Heathcliff wasn’t around. Which he wasn’t most of the time.

  ‘I don’t feel well.’ Luke stepped towards the hole in the wall and tried to catch Harry’s attention. Nothing. He coughed, pointedly. ‘I feel sick.’

  Harry shrugged. ‘Well, do it in the bog then. Why you telling me?’

  Luke skulked back into the living room, slamming the door behind him. He didn’t really feel sick, but he could have. Harry wasn’t to know. He remembered being sick as a child, during one of the good phases, in between his mum’s useless boyfriends. He remembered drifting in and out of sleep all through the night with his mum always there, her fingers stroking his face, his head resting on her lap. He’d always sort of liked being ill after that.

  He heard the back door click open and closed. Gently. Kate, he thought, not Heathcliff. She came through the kitchen door and looked at him. ‘What are you up to?’

  Luke shrugged.

  ‘Have they put the RSJ in yet? What are they doing?’

  ‘The what in?’

  ‘The RSJ. It’s a steel beam that supports the wall above it. They’ll have to put one above the door to next door.’

  ‘How d’you know about that?’

  ‘I read about them.’

  Luke shrugged. ‘Don’t know what they’re doing. Just making a mess.’

  ‘But it’s going to be worth it. When we move in next door as well, we’ll all have our own rooms. We won’t be tripping over each other but we’ll still be living together like a proper family.’

  ‘Whatever.’ Luke wasn’t sure what had happened to Kate. She’d stopped talking about moving back to the Grange, but she wasn’t all perky like when he’d first met her either. And everything she said came back to the same thing – this ridiculous idea that they were all one perfect happy family. ‘Family’s stupid.’

  ‘Don’t be silly.’

  Another person there was no point trying to talk to. The dust rose and danced in the light under the living-room door. Luke coughed. His chest ached, like it always did. He heaved his shoulders back and pulled a breath hard into his lungs.

  ‘Where’s your inhaler?’ Kate frowned. She almost looked like she cared.

  Luke shrugged. ‘Upstairs probably.’

  ‘Do you want me to get it?’

  He shook his head. He didn’t know where it was. He knew where it had been. It had been in his hand, held up to his face last time his chest had felt like this. Heathcliff had laughed and called him a stupid pansy and taken it off him. According to his father, real men didn’t need crap like his inhaler.

  ‘I’m going out.’ It didn’t always help, but at least he’d be out of the dust for a bit.

  ‘Are you going into town? We could go together.’

  Luke ignored the wittering voice and marched through the kitchen and out the back door. It was mid-afternoon, a good two or three hours before it started to get dark. He stuffed his hands in his pockets. It was cold, though. He should have got his coat. But he wasn’t going back for it. He wasn’t going back for anything. Not for a while at least. He’d stay out till dark. Just long enough to get them worried. Just long enough to remind them he was here. That’d show them.

  ‘Where’s Luke?’

  Harry shrugged. He hadn’t seen the little pansy since the afternoon. ‘Don’t know. Don’t care.’

  Kate frowned and disappeared upstairs. Harry listened to her steps through the ceiling. A few minutes later she reappeared in the living room. ‘He’s not upstairs.’

  ‘So?’

  ‘So… I don’t know.’

  Harry flicked the TV on. Luke was plenty old enough to stay out all night on his own if he wanted. He let some programme about traffic cops drift over him..

  ‘I’m worried about him.’ Kate wasn’t going to give him any peace.

  ‘Why?’

  ‘He wasn’t well this afternoon. He didn’t have his inhaler.’

  He’d said he felt sick too. Not that Harry cared particularly. ‘So what?’

  ‘So… it’s cold and he doesn’t normally stay out.’

  Harry couldn’t argue with that. Luke didn’t normally stay out because he didn’t normally go out.

  ‘And what if something happens to him?’

  ‘Like what?’

  ‘Well, he could have another asthma attack or something.’

  Harry didn’t move. His best guess was that Little Lord Luke was hiding out somewhere safe and warm, sulking because he wasn’t getting enough attention at home. He looked at Kate. Her face was fixed, as it always was these days, in a sort of forced grin, but in her eyes he thought there was the hint of something else. She’d lost her mum. She’d lost her dad. And so had Harry come to that, but that was different. Kate had loved her dad. He wasn’t sure how she’d manage losing anyone else.

  ‘Heathcliff’ll go crazy if something’s happened to him.’

  That was possible. It was getting harder and harder to know how Heathcliff would react to anything these days. He spent half the time locked in that tiny room at the back of the house and the other half yelling at anyone who got in his way.

  Kate folded her arms. ‘And I’m just going to go on about it until you help me look for him.’

  ‘Fine.’ Harry dragged himself off the sofa and picked his jacket up off the back of the chair.

  ‘Should we go onto the blue hills?’

  There was a glint in her eye, like there always was when she thought there might be something exciting going to happen. There was no way he was trekking over the blue hills with her bouncing along behind like something on acid. ‘I’ll go up the hills. You go down into town. He’s probably hanging out by the statue smoking something he shouldn’t be.’

  Kate pulled a face, but he ignored her and marched out the back door. The rain was pounding down, and although it was sheltered in the yard he could tell there’d be a fierce gale as soon as he got out onto the lane. He wondered if he could stay here for twenty minutes, hiding under the lip of the doorframe, and then go back in and say he couldn’t find him. Chances were the little twat would be home by then anyway.

  A noise behind him made him jump out of the doorway. Through the frosted glass panel he could just about make out the shape of Heathcliff stalking into the kitchen. Without thinking Harry took two steps across the yard and dropped down into a squat behind the old coal bunker. He could have gone straight bac
k inside, said he’d been for a walk or something, but he knew what Heathcliff was like in the evenings, and he wasn’t going to risk it. Heathcliff slammed the back door behind him and stepped into the yard. He paused again at the back gate. Harry held his breath. He had no choice now. He’d chosen to hide and he was stuck with it. He had to keep out of sight.

  Not that staying hidden looked like being a problem. Heathcliff’s gaze was fixed in the distance towards the blue hills. It looked, to Harry, as if he could have jumped out in front of the man without distracting him from whatever he was seeing inside his head. Heathcliff staggered out of the yard. Harry jumped up and watched him over the wall. He made his way along the lane, and then, as expected, veered off towards the blue hills.

  Harry hesitated. The rain was still lashing down, and he didn’t want to get in Heathcliff’s way when he was like this, but now there were two members of Kate’s much needed ‘proper family’ out there in the storm. He accepted the inevitable and followed Heathcliff into the dark. To start with he could make the older man out a few metres in front of him. Harry slowed down when Heathcliff slowed, speeded up when he did, not that he needed anyone to follow. The only person who knew the paths out here better than Heathcliff was Harry. You went from the lane onto the old pit road, past the mine buildings and then onto the moors. The blue hills were actually pretty much straight behind the Heights estate but getting straight up from the house was a scramble. Harry didn’t fancy trying that in this weather. He veered off the path as they passed the old mine buildings. That would mean Heathcliff got ahead of him, but that was okay – he knew where he was heading.

  Harry pressed his face against the remaining window glass of the first warehouse he came to, wiping the rain away with his sleeve. No sign of Luke in there. The second building he paused outside. He walked past this place all the time but, despite what he’d told Kate, he didn’t come this close. As the years went by he’d got less and less sure about what he’d seen in there that night. His dad and Heathcliff. But what exactly had happened? Had they fought? Had his dad slipped? Had Heathcliff been there all along or had he come later? The more he tried to think of it, the murkier the memory become. There were things he remembered as clear as yesterday. The sound that had come from his father’s mouth as Heathcliff stood over him. The blood dripping and pooling on the floor. The walk home, skipping and half-running to keep Heathcliff in sight. But what had actually happened – he didn’t know. Maybe he’d never known. He’d never told Heathcliff he was there that night and he never would. Heathcliff had never talked about it and Harry wasn’t even sure Heathcliff had any clear memories of that night left.

  He tugged at the rusty door, hearing the rattle of a padlock and chain. It didn’t look like anyone had been inside in months.

  ‘Luke?’ he called out half-heartedly at first and then louder. ‘Luke!’

  His voice echoed on the wind and died away. No reply.

  He zipped his jacket up to the neck, dropped his head against the wind and started to walk up into the moors. As he’d expected, the wind picked up as he climbed higher. He’d lost sight of Heathcliff ahead of him now. He paused here and there, peering into the darkness, looking for another body moving out there in the gloom, but there was nothing. Harry lifted his pace and marched along the familiar path. There were hints of light here and there when the moon broke through the cloud, and where the odd inhabited houses on the back lane of the Heights sent light shining out from upstairs windows. But for the most part, it was dark. Cold and wet and dark.

  He kept his head down as he began to climb into the blue hills, feeling the rough, loose rocks moving beneath his feet. A single word swept towards him on the wind. One word. Always the same one word. ‘Cathy.’

  Harry peered. He couldn’t see Heathcliff. He made his way closer, coming up towards the back side of the hills.

  Heathcliff appeared out of the shadows in front of him.

  ‘What you doing here?’

  ‘Nothing. Just going for a walk.’ It was a stupid thing to say. It was pouring with rain. Nobody in their right mind would believe him.

  ‘Just a walk?’

  Harry nodded.

  ‘You weren’t following me?’

  He fought to keep the tremble out of his voice. ‘Course not.’

  Suddenly Heathcliff’s face was inches away from his own, spitting words out at Harry. ‘She’s not here.’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Why isn’t she here?’ Heathcliff grabbed on to his jacket. Close up, Harry could see tears were mingling with the rain that ran down Heathcliff’s face. ‘Where is she?’

  Harry frowned. ‘Maybe at home?’ he hazarded.

  The older man stepped back, switching his gaze towards the houses down on the estate. ‘And I left her there?’

  Heathcliff released Harry from his grip and started to stagger back towards town. Harry waited, before he finally let himself breathe out. If Heathcliff hadn’t seen him, then he guessed Luke wasn’t anywhere around here. Although the kid might have been hiding from his father. God knew he had good reason. Harry had told Kate he’d look and he didn’t want to follow Heathcliff straight back home and trade in the crying for a proper beating. He hauled his cold, wet legs up the hill. Even in the dark this place always amazed him. Completely covered in grass. There were even wildflowers in the summer. He didn’t know what. Kate would know what with all her books and that. If you didn’t know the blue hills were nothing more than rubbish dumps, you’d never guess. They just sat there in the landscape like tiny, undersized mountains, dominating everything.

  He turned around on the spot, scanning as far as he could see through the dark. Unless he was cowering in a hollow somewhere, Luke wasn’t up here. Harry shook his head. Bloody Kate. He started down the front of the hills, picking out the most direct path this time as best he could in the dark. The loose gravel gave slightly under his foot and he felt himself sliding downwards. He shifted his bodyweight forward to keep his weight over his feet and his arse off the floor, staggering up as the ground levelled off.

  ‘Harry!’

  The voice behind him was thin and reedy. He turned. Luke was sitting in the shadow of the hill.

  ‘What you doing up here?’

  Luke opened his mouth but no sound came out. Harry marched over to him and squatted down on his haunches. ‘What you doing sitting out here?’

  The response came in a whisper. ‘Inhaler.’

  ‘Oh, for fuck’s sake. Where is it?’

  Luke lifted a tired arm, extending his finger back towards home.

  Harry glanced towards the estate. If Luke had left his inhaler at home Harry could get it. It was probably no more than ten minutes each way at a run. Or could he carry Luke down? That might be quicker. ‘Can you walk?’

  The boy’s head lolled backwards slightly, exposing a trickle of blood down the side of his face.

  ‘What happened there? Did you fall?’

  Another whisper. ‘Heathcliff was here.’

  ‘Did he see you?’

  The boy opened his mouth again, wheezing with the effort.

  Harry shook his head. ‘Don’t worry about it. Let’s get you up.’

  He slid an arm under his cousin. He barely knew why he was bothering. He wasn’t likely to get any thanks for it, except from Kate. Luke wriggled and squirmed out of his grasp. ‘Bring me my inhaler.’

  ‘No. Quicker to take you home.’

  Luke rolled out of his grasp. The words came louder now. ‘Don’t want to go home.’

  ‘Fine.’

  Harry stood up.

  The boy grinned in triumph.

  ‘You’re not even sick, are you?’

  ‘What’s it to you? I’ll tell Kate and Heathcliff I was and that you wouldn’t help me.’

  Harry turned away. ‘Screw you.’

  He marched down towards the estate, listening for the sound of the boy following. He just wanted attention and he wasn’t getting that sitting up there on his own. But t
he noise he heard wasn’t the boy shouting after him, or his footsteps falling into time behind him. The noise seemed to come up out of the earth, shaking his feet before it reached his ears. Harry spun around. Luke had started to follow but now he was stood stock-still, turned, like Harry, to face the hills behind him. Except the hills weren’t where they should be any more. Harry lunged forward but it was too far and he was too late. The gravel and dirt ran like liquid in the dark night, knocking Luke off his feet. Harry staggered backwards and then ran to the side out of its path.

  The next few seconds stretched out like days or weeks. He was aware of lights being flicked on in the houses below. He was aware of the screaming noise that stopped suddenly and abruptly. And then he was aware that the only noises left were the swirl of the wind and the lash of the rain. He staggered back up the fallen ground. ‘Luke? Luke!’

  But there was no reply.

  Chapter Forty-Seven

  2008

  The drive up from the Midlands had almost been too much for Isabelle. Funny how a dream could be so much better than reality. All the time she’d been inside she’d dreamt of getting out. Of driving up a motorway – going somewhere, anywhere, but away from those high walls and barred windows. From the guards and the rules and the boredom. In those first dark days inside, when she’d done everything wrong and got her sentence extended, she’d almost got to the point of hallucinating her escape. Or maybe that was the last of the drugs screwing with her mind. Now, she was officially one of the good ones, only Cat D, and not likely to give any trouble. And she was out. Just for a day. But it was all too much. All through the journey, she’d closed her eyes against the torrent of light and colour. But that was worse, because that allowed her to think about where she was going. And now she was here.