Luke Adams Boxset 1

by Dawson, H A

  For the next few hours, she drank, dozed, and moped. Then, having formulated a plan to distract her destructive mindset, she reached for her phone and dialled Leanne’s number. However, the instant the younger woman’s voice sounded her courage faded.

  ‘Who is this?’ Leanne asked.

  Queenie’s head was swimming, her words wandering from her tongue.

  ‘Hello, who’s there?’

  ‘Queenie. I have news about your mother.’

  There was excitement in Leanne’s voice. ‘Do you know where she is?’

  ‘You should come around.’

  ‘Where are you?’

  She gave Leanne her address and dropped the phone onto her lap.

  Leanne snatched her bag from the kitchen, and whilst heading to the outer door, snapped open the clasp and fingered through the odds and sods for the house keys. The photograph of her grandmother as a little girl by the house with two other children caught her eye. She plucked it free and reached for her keys. The bag slipped and dropped to the floor, and the contents scattered.

  Scrutinising the photo, she searched for similarities between Queenie and the children and wondered if there was a connection. Failing to see any likeness, she crouched down to gather the contents.

  Upon the floor were old receipts, a delivery notice, business cards, and a bank statement; there was lipstick, moisturiser, face powder and eyeliner; there were medicines and spare underwear. She needed a clear out but instead crammed it inside, disregarded the clutter, and hurried to the car.

  Her expectations were intense. Queenie knew something, and most probably had had recent contact with Karen. She may even be there, preparing for a reunion. Her pulse quickened and her breathing grew short and fast as she attempted to straighten out her muddled mind. What would she say? What was appropriate? She switched on the engine and eased out of the drive, and considered what Karen’s first impression would be.

  She was wearing loose-fitting navy blue trousers, a short cream top, and a sloppy v-necked woollen jumper. Her hair was neat, her make-up sparse, and her scent subtle. She looked presentable, but then wondered if she should have changed into something more casual, remembering Queenie’s criticism of her behaviour and attitudes. Slowing down, she gave herself a moment to reconsider.

  Leanne decided she did not want to appear too similar to Janet, and should not show any intolerance or snobbery whatsoever. However, it was too late to change her clothes, and it was a little pointless anyway; her body language and speech patterns would determine her upbringing and social standing, also. Karen, if she were in fact with Queenie, would have to accept her as she was.

  Leanne edged into the new estate. Steven’s house was situated close by and her subconscious took control. She indicated right and headed down his street, her pulse quickening and her heart aching as she yearned for a glimpse. The house was still and silent; there was no movement from within, and no sign of Tansy in the garden.

  Her disappointment did not last. She weaved through the houses, passing numerous identical dwellings with two small windows on each floor and a rectangular front garden and arrived at Queenie’s house. She stopped the car a little distance away and strode to the door.

  Her heart was pounding so hard she felt sure it would be audible. She knocked. She waited. She held her breath. Inside were mumbled voices. She strained to listen. The door swung open.

  A woman with short red hair, an aging skin tone, and long, dangling earrings pointed to a room on the left of the hallway, and weaved by, exiting the house and closing the door. It was cool inside. Leanne huddled her arms closer to her body and went into the living room.

  Queenie was slouched in a chair. There were empty bottles on the floor, a brimming ashtray on a table, the carpet was gritty, and the sofa was dirty. Leanne forced still her eyes and closed her nostrils.

  ‘Don’t just stand there,’ Queenie said.

  She sat and forced herself to relax. ‘Is Karen here?’

  ‘I never said she was here.’

  ‘Where is she then?’

  Queenie stretched out and reached for a bottle. ‘Want one?’

  She shook her head.

  ‘Probably best. It’s no good for you.’

  ‘You said you had news.’

  Queenie lifted the bottle to her lips, yet she never removed her eyes from Leanne and stared, scrutinising, searching for something. ‘I like your new man.’

  She tightened. ‘He’s not my new man.’

  ‘Aw, why not? He’s sweet.’

  ‘We’re just friends.’

  ‘He’s hot for you . . . told me so.’

  Her heart flip-flopped. ‘What were you doing with him?’

  ‘No need to be feisty. I was just checking him out.’

  Her eyes narrowed.

  ‘It’s what Karen would want.’

  ‘Where can I find her?’

  Queenie held the bottle into the light, gazed inside at the dregs, and swirled them around, biding time.

  ‘You know something, don’t you?’ Leanne persisted.

  ‘Might do.’

  ‘Where is she?’

  ‘I’m not sure she’d approve of you. You’re too much like Janet.’

  ‘I’m nothing like her.’

  ‘Spitting image I’d say. She’s got to you.’

  ‘I make my own decisions in life. Janet had nothing to do with it.’

  ‘Such a fool . . . she brought you up, made you into a replica of Fiona. That’s all she ever wanted. She didn’t care about . . . about Karen. Do you have any idea how hard she had it? How she could never compete with her sister?’

  ‘I’ve heard bits.’

  ‘Probably not even the half of it. Karen was desperate for attention but she couldn’t get Janet to listen. They were opposites, didn’t understand each other, so she went to her uncle’s house. He listened, he cared, and he understood. There, she felt as though she was part of something, and the more time she spent with them, the less she wanted to be at home. Her parents and the Coombs’ were such prigs. Admittedly, she did do some things to wind them up.’

  ‘Like what?’

  ‘Janet used to follow her. Karen knew, but Janet didn’t know she knew. She used to flaunt herself.’

  ‘Are you saying she . . . she stripped?’

  Queenie gawked. ‘You know about that?’

  She held a stiff gaze.

  ‘It was meant to wind her up – she knew somehow word would get back - but it backfired. Janet locked her in the house. Once she got out, she went straight to her uncles and they called the police. They got into all kinds of trouble.’ Queenie grinned. ‘Nothing could be proven, but it was worth it to see their faces.’

  ‘You were there?’

  ‘Yes. All that time. I virtually lived with Karen. We were forever having sleepovers. Sometimes we would sleep in the barn.’

  Leanne stared vacantly, her mind in a spin. The fire was in the barn. There was shouting and blood-curdling screams. Something terrible had happened. ‘How did the fire start?’

  Queenie folded her arms and closed her legs. ‘What fire?’

  ‘There was a fire. Karen wasn’t seen after that.’

  ‘I don’t know anything about it.’

  ‘But surely-.’

  ‘Like I said, I don’t know anything.’

  ‘So you weren’t there?’

  Queenie clamped shut her mouth and scowled.

  Leanne refused to relent and reiterated her question.

  ‘I’d met someone,’ Queenie offered, ‘it must have happened after we’d gone our separate ways.’

  ‘Was that why Karen returned home?’

  She gave a vague nod. ‘Everything that happened was because of Janet. If she hadn’t been so strict and set in her ways, Karen wouldn’t have had to run off in the first place.’

  Leanne nodded, encouragingly.

  ‘Would you stay around if you were treated like scum?’

  ‘No, probably not.’

>   ‘Karen never did half of what Janet imagined. I know, I was with her.’

  ‘She did drugs.’

  ‘Did she? You sure?’

  ‘I . . . that’s what was said.’

  ‘I’m sure it was. In the end, Karen did do stuff, but only because she had already been accused of being that way. Janet forced her hand. Karen wasn’t nearly as bad as everyone implied.’

  ‘So Karen proved Janet right?’

  ‘I suppose.’

  ‘That’s a bit childish.’

  Queenie swung one of her legs over the arm of the chair and stared, causing Leanne to regret her comment. She had wanted to remain impartial, and not act like judge and jury. ‘I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that.’

  ‘So what did you mean?’

  ‘I . . . I think I would have done the same.’

  Queenie nodded, expressing satisfaction.

  There was a moment’s silence. Queenie was holding her in an intimidating stare. Who was she and how did she meet Karen? Remembering the photo, Leanne reached into her bag and passed it to Queenie. ‘I think the girl on the left is Janet. Do you know who the other children are?’

  ‘No, why would I?’

  ‘I wondered if one of them was related to you. A mother or father perhaps.’

  ‘Never seen them.’

  ‘Are you sure?’

  ‘Of course, I’m sure.’ She thrust it into her hand.

  She placed it back into her bag. ‘So how did you meet Karen?’

  ‘At school. How else would we meet?’

  ‘I . . . I don’t know.’

  ‘Steven said you’re gentle person, and easy going. Is he right?’

  She looked away. ‘I don’t know.’

  ‘You don’t know a lot, do you?’

  She swallowed and looked at her lap.

  ‘Do you have children?’

  ‘A son, Tyler. He’s sixteen.’

  Queenie smiled.

  ‘Do you have a good relationship with him?’

  ‘I like to think so.’

  ‘I have a son too. He’s just become a father. He has a gorgeous baby girl.’ Her eyes glazed. ‘Madison. She is sweet.’

  ‘That’s nice.’

  ‘Only thing is, he doesn’t want to know me. I offer advice and he loses his temper. That’s not fair, is it?’ Their eyes locked. ‘What would you do Leanne?’

  ‘I’d give him a bit of space and hope he changed his mind.’

  ‘Wise words.’ She sipped her lager. ‘Then you’d forgive him?’

  ‘Of course. You should always forgive your children.’

  ‘Do you forgive easily?’

  Leanne shuffled, wondering about the question and fearing a trap. ‘I don’t have much time for holding grudges.’

  ‘Will you forgive Karen?’

  Her pulse quickened. ‘Where is she?’

  ‘Will you forgive her?’

  ‘Yes.’ She edged forward on her seat. ‘Of course I will. Please, tell me where she is.’

  ‘I don’t know.’

  ‘But you’ve heard from her?’

  ‘Not in years.’

  Leanne tensed. ‘So why did you want to see me?’

  ‘If I find her, she’ll want a report.’

  ‘Is that all?’

  ‘What’s wrong with that?’

  Exasperated, she raised herself to her feet. ‘I’ve things to do.’

  ‘As you wish. Let yourself out.’

  She picked up her bag and strode out of the room and towards the door. Just as she placed her hand on the handle, she caught site of a letter on a narrow unit. She leaned across and looked to the address label. It was addressed to Mrs J Taylor. Leanne peered back towards the living room door. She hesitated. She thought of Luke Adams.

  Chapter 28

  Queenie dragged herself down the stairs wearing a long sloppy t-shirt she’d slept in, and made a coffee, lit a cigarette, and relaxed at the kitchen table. The smoke wafted towards the ceiling clouding the air.

  Her thoughts were on the monotonous hours ahead. With little to do with the day, and her options to either head into town and wander around the shops or stay at home and watch television, she lacked motivation. What she wanted to do was to see her baby granddaughter. She reached for her mobile phone, yearning to see a message or missed call from Kyle, and was tempted to have one more try at apologising. The blank screen forced her hand. This time she would wait; she wasn’t that desperate.

  The clarity in her mind was burdensome, her isolation from her family and the perpetual drudgery weighing her down. Drifting through time, she searched for happy moments in her life, and saw internal pain, misunderstandings, missed opportunities, and betrayals. More than anything, what disappointed were people. Some claimed to be friends and fled at the first signs of trouble, some wanted only to share their own woes and not listen to anyone else’s, and some always thought the worst. It seemed as though everyone jumped to erroneous conclusions. Queenie glanced up. Everyone except Rusty.

  ‘I saw Jenny last night,’ Rusty said, ‘remember her?’

  ‘From school?’

  ‘Yes. Those were the days. We were quite the group. No one would mess with us.’

  ‘Everyone always said we were non-achievers. I guess they were right.’

  ‘I don’t think we’ve done too badly. We’ve both had partners and kids. What else is there?’

  Queenie rested her cigarette on the ashtray. ‘It would be nice if mine talked to me.’

  ‘Give him time.’

  ‘That’s what Leanne said.’

  She caught her eye. ‘About that. What did you say?’

  ‘Nothing. I’m not stupid. I know when to keep my mouth shut.’ Queenie saw a look of disbelief in her friend’s eyes. ‘I promise you, I said nothing. As if I’m going to! I’m trying to stop this bloody mess from exploding. I just wanted to know what she’s like.’ She reached for the cigarette and inhaled. ‘You know, I often ask myself why I got involved back then. I should have just stayed out of it.’

  ‘We didn’t have a choice. She needed our help . . . and we did it for Leanne.’

  Queenie exhaled. ‘She expected too much.’

  ‘But could we have said no, really?’

  ‘That day, I was so angry. I had my own problems to deal with, and . . . and I wanted my life back. I never meant . . .’ she held her breath, fought her tears, and enjoyed the warmth of Rusty’s hand resting upon hers. ‘How could I return after that?’ A lone tear trickled down her cheek. She brushed it aside and reached for the cigarette packet.

  Rusty maintained her silence.

  ‘No one will believe me . . . no one will understand.’

  ‘You might be surprised.’

  ‘No. I’m not going to say anything. Look at me. Why would anyone believe this? I attract trouble.’

  ‘So why speak to Leanne?’

  The chair scraped on the floor as Queenie leapt to her feet and headed to the window, where she stared into the small garden that was withering and dying in the cooling weather. ‘I was curious.’

  ‘The more contact you have, the more likely the truth will come out.’

  ‘I know!’ She spun around. ‘But the only person who could tell her is Teresa. We can stop that.’

  ‘I think they went out again . . . despite our warning.’

  She was ablaze with fury. ‘What?’

  ‘I saw Teresa’s car heading to Steven’s. Four of them left in his car.’

  ‘And you think-’

  ‘Who else would he take on a double date?’

  ‘Leanne said they weren’t seeing each other.’

  There was silence.

  ‘Look,’ Queenie continued, ‘Teresa’s easy to manipulate. We just have to be a bit more forceful.’

  Rusty was pensive, and Queenie could sense her apprehensions. It may not be the right approach, but if she intended to stay in the village, she had no alternative. Where else could she go? Her partner had kicked her out, and her
son wanted nothing to do with her. For the moment, she had to stay. Therefore, she had no choice but to dampen down the embers.

  Placing on her black shiny jacket, Queenie crept out of the house and into the darkness. It was a cool starlit sky, and the frosty air pinched at her exposed skin. She lifted her collar, pulled up the zip, and nestled her hands into the soft-lined pockets.

  A car ambled by. Lowering her gaze, she maintained a rhythmical hurried walk, stepping through the streets, away from the village hall and to a familiar desolate track. Her mind was swimming with her plan, but the waters were far from clear and her anxieties bubbled. She fought for anger and assertiveness. She craved the courage of youth.

  Being unnecessarily violent was not in her nature, and she wondered if she would have the physical strength and the energy to proceed. Fearing an emerging weakness, she eliminated her doubts and crossed the street, avoiding a man with a dog. Then she turned left past a double-fronted detached dwelling with a large paved front garden. Fleetingly, she peered through the window, looking beyond an ornamental wrought-iron structure in the centre and to a woman. She was staring. Unnerved, Queenie lowered her head, scanned the concrete path, and increased her pace.

  Her pulse quickened; she was too old for this. She thought of the Jefferson family, she focused on baby Leanne, she remembered the blood-curdling screams. Her blood pounded her veins.

  Within minutes, she had arrived in a darkened alley, and leaned against the wall, hiding in the shadows. Grateful for the seclusion, she looked to the far end and reached for a cigarette. There, she breathed in the calming substance and waited.

  Footsteps sounded, causing her adrenaline to surge. Glancing along the path, she saw it was Teresa, the arm in a sling the giveaway. Careful to maintain her element of surprise, she hovered out of the moonlight near the wall, dropped her cigarette and extinguished the smouldering butt. The gap between the two women closed.

  Teresa was metres away, in a world of her own and gazing at the ground and paying no attention to the wafting scent of smoke. Biding her time, holding her breath and forcing still her itching muscles, Queenie waited two more steps and two more heartbeats. Then she pounced. Ignoring Teresa’s pained cries she forced her back to the wall and pushed her arm against her throat.