The Fenton Saga: Never Say Goodbye / There Was No Body.

by Colin Griffiths

  ‘It’s manic out there.’ they told their Sergeant. ‘The roads are blocked. There’s thousands of people.’

  The older copper looked at Tracy. ‘What happened to your lip?’

  Tracy looked at Carol and Becky, the two girls looked back. No expressions. Neither a look of remorse nor a look of satisfaction.

  ‘Nothing.’ said Tracy. ‘Now go and get a beer and if anyone calls for back-up they will have me to deal with.’

  Carol looked around. ‘With all this racket, I don’t think it will be too long before they get here.’

  Tracy nodded, then looked at the house. And what the fuck do I tell them?

  As the light grew brighter inside the house, in the upstairs bedroom of Todd Fenton, there was a flash of lightning and an enormous sound of thunder which made everyone look round towards the house. There were sounds of ‘oooh’s’ and ‘ah’s’ and gasps of amazement as, in the roof of the house, a hole appeared. Roof tiles were falling into the garden. Through the hole came the light, now about the size of a football, until it got into the sky, then it seemed to grow over the whole extent of the street, lighting up the area. The crowd roared in amazement, because following the light into the bright sky was a silhouette of Todd Fenton. He floated in the skies, away from Ashbourne with the grace of an eagle. It appeared that Todd Fenton had learned how to fly and the crowd thought it was a great spectacle for a party.

  ‘Todd.’ Carol simply said. Becky just put her hand to her mouth.

  ‘Oh my God!’ Tracy said.

  The fields surrounding the south side of Ashbourne which separated Ashbourne and the smaller village of Ringway and the one road that joined the two towns appeared to be alive, moving. In fact, the roads and fields from Ringway to Ashbourne were full of people, carrying food and beer to a party.

  No one had told them to go. No one had heard about the party, but still they came. The two villages had at one time been rivals and there would often have been street fights when they visited their neighbouring town. Tonight the two villages were united and the long-time rivalry seemed to be a thing of the past.

  The population of Ashbourne was just over twenty two thousand. The people on the streets were fourteen thousand, six hundred and twenty five from Ashbourne. The only ones not there were either too old, too young or too sick. As Todd soared into the sky, he was watched by nearly twenty thousand partygoers. By now the news of the party had gone viral. News reporters were on their way and the reporters already there were commenting on a violent storm approaching. People were taking to the streets in the County of Newport marching towards the town of Ashbourne, blocking the roads. The reporters were pleading with them to return home, to allow the emergency services to get through, though no one heard. They were on their way to a party.

  The BBC and Sky News were putting two helicopters in the sky. If they had been ten minutes earlier they might have seen Todd Fenton fly past.

  Back inside the house, the other Todd lay in his wardrobe. He seemed to be dreaming, as his eyes entered the REM stage. On the stairs, about half way up was a light, not bright, not really glowing, more like one of those solar lights which people put in their gardens. It was the size of a golf ball. As Daniel stared at it, he knew it was there either to protect Todd, or to prevent Daniel from reaching him. He just hoped and prayed that it was the former.

  He went into the kitchen. Things were quiet now. Strewn on the kitchen floor were broken plates and mugs, plus various kitchen implements. It looked as though someone had trashed it. He found a Superhero plastic mug that lay unbroken on the floor. He smiled as he picked it up. It was Todd’s favourite mug. When he was at home, he wouldn't drink out of anything else. Daniel switched the kettle on, which remained intact, put sugar, milk and coffee in the mug. He picked up the kitchen chairs and put them back in their rightful places. He looked around at the mess, took a black sack from under the sink and started clearing the mess away.

  When the kettle boiled, he poured his coffee then went to the living room; where the damage was very much less. From the drinks cupboard, he grabbed the whisky, went back into the kitchen and poured a little into his coffee. He took a sip. It tasted good. He had heard the loud thunder crack as the bedroom ceiling exploded and although he hadn’t seen it, he knew Todd had entered the skies. He sat at the table, took another sip of his whisky-laden coffee, picked up the black sack and continued to clean up. He knew he couldn't leave the house. The orange glow of the handles on all the doors and windows told him so.

  ***

  The Newport Police station, where Simon Goldstone sat at his desk, had been inundated with calls about a street party in Ashbourne that had simply gone out of control. He was unable to get hold of Tracy Bates, who he knew was in Ashbourne, watching the Fenton's. Neither could he get hold of the two other officers who were assigned to the case. He was annoyed at first, getting angry as his officers failed to respond. Then he grew concerned about them.

  What he didn’t know was that all his officers were fine, that they were simply enjoying the festivities that were happening in Ashbourne and the crowd had simply taken their phones and radio’s from them. He had received reports from the officers he could get in touch with, that the streets were grid locked. The BBC, Sky News, and now Fox, from the USA, had been on the phone to him. He had taken their calls, telling them that there were officers at the scene now. He tried to play it down as a street party that had got out of control.

  He was horrified to learn that two news stations had put their own helicopters into the air. He knew if they could not get access, he too would have to put his own chopper in the air. There were reports of a thunder storm, but he had checked with the Met. Office and the forecast was of a clear calm evening. Facebook and Twitter were full of the event, and now You Tube had put up a video of a storm, showing lightning and you could easily hear the sound of thunder. As he browsed more, even more videos were streaming on all platforms. Some of the storm and others showing the house that appeared to be glowing and shaking. Most of them were of the party goers, people dancing and singing, an ice cream man selling ice creams. Everyone seemed in good spirits. This somewhat reassured him. He made some calls, got all the available men he could, telling them to go on foot if they had to. He also got the chopper airborne. It would be over Ashbourne within thirty minutes.

  He flicked the news channel to Sky. They were reporting the incident, saying their ‘copter would be there within ten minutes. They showed airborne pictures of crowds of people filling the roads and adjoining fields, walking towards Ashbourne. There were reports that One Direction were making an impromptu concert; and that was the reason people were gathering, but Goldstone had checked this and found it not to be true. But he would rather they believe that.

  He knew this had something to do with the Fenton’s. He guessed it was a distraction, so they could get up to whatever it was they were planning, but how could he explain the storm? How could anyone explain the storm? He leaned back in his chair, just as the phone rang. His secretary told him Sky News was on the line again. He told her to tell them he was busy. What was happening here? He tried Bates’ phone again. The line was unobtainable. How can one family organise so many people?

  He clicked to the next video on You Tube. It was a video of party goers and as the camera panned, he put his hands to his head and shouted ‘Fuck!’ as the camera panned on to Carol Fenton, Becky Fenton and Tracy Bates. They all seemed fit and well and Tracy Bates was holding a bottle of Stella. In the distance he could see one of his officers in a paddling pool stripped to the waist. He speed dialled his secretary who answered immediately.

  ‘Get me a driver. I need to get to Ashbourne.’

  Within ten minutes, his driver was pulling out of the police station car park for the twelve mile journey. Seven miles down the road the traffic was at a standstill. They could neither go forward nor backwards. It was no good trying to manoeuvre the traffic with the blues and twos, as there was simply nowhere to go. He looked t
o the left, across to the fields that led to Ashbourne. It was probably a three mile walk. He was fit, and that would be no problem to him. The problem was much clearer. How would he fit in with the thousands of people who were descending on Ashbourne? He got out of his car told his driver to try to continue the journey. As he moved away from the car and climbed the fence on to the field. That’s when, he heard the sound in the sky. Though the night was dark, the moon was bright. He could clearly see the lettering on the side of the chopper reading SKY NEWS.

  ‘Fuck it,’ he said and joined the thousands in their walk.

  It was still a mild evening and as he walked, how he wished he hadn't been in uniform. People were glancing at him, pointing in his direction. He wondered how many of these people he might have helped put away. How many would seek retribution and take out their revenge? It would be easy to die out here he thought, easy for someone to kill him and probably never get caught.

  He grew scared. Whilst he had always been opposed to arming the police force, he had served his time as an armed officer for four years and he never had to use his firearm, but how he wished he had a gun now. He was afraid now and as he walked his worst fears came to the forefront, as a group of five lads walked over to him. They were in their twenties and to Simon they seemed intent on mischief. Each of the lads was carrying a bottle of something.

  The leading lad spoke first as he approached, ‘Yo man, you on your own?’

  ‘No. I have some officers behind.’ He thought this was a good reply.

  The lads just dropped in beside him and didn’t bother to look and find out if there were any officers behind him.

  ‘We’ll walk with you, bro, till they catch up.’

  The lads seemed friendly enough and in the moonlight, Simon didn’t recognise them, which he thought was a good thing. It was a strange, eerie feeling. He was with all these people, how many he didn’t really know, yet they were all walking peacefully towards the light on Ashbourne Hill where a party was in full swing. There weren’t any arguments, fights, raised voices! Indeed all the videos and reports he had seen and heard, not one of them reported or showed any violence. Even his own officers appeared to be joining in. That was something he would not leave alone. He would get to the bottom of it later. But now he had to close this party down. The Fenton’s had a lot of explaining to do.

  As he walked into the night towards Ashbourne, a relatively calm feeling overpowered him. He felt content. He felt happy. All the worries he had earlier, were clearly gone. In fact, he felt in the mood for a party.

  One of the lads lit up a spliff and started smoking it. He passed it round the other four. The Chief Inspector ignored it, thinking that one spliff wouldn't hurt. The banter was good. The company seemed reassuring and as he walked, a lad offered him his spliff, without realising it, Simon Goldstone took the spliff. He took a deep drag, held it for a moment and as he exhaled, he let out a loud ‘Ah.’ He passed the spliff back, as if it was the most natural thing in the world. No one seemed to notice the Chief Inspector smoking a spliff with a gang of youths, as he was walking across some fields to go to the biggest street party his force had ever come across. If anyone had noticed him, then they just didn’t care. Another spliff went round. Simon joined in. One lad passed him his bottle of Vodka, Simon took a sip. Jokes were flying around; some of them were not of the political correctness type, Simon laughed.

  Twenty minutes earlier, he had walked across the field wishing he was armed. Now he was getting stoned and drunk with a gang of youths he really liked. It’s been a strange day, he thought.

  He would not realise why he had done it until later, much later. The same could be said of the partygoers that had hit the streets and walked miles to get to, what some might say, was a calling. Others would say it was just a good idea. Some would even say, they were following a light as it called them. Yet others would try to deny ever being there. Even a few would openly boast about being there. Everyone would have an opinion as to why it happened. Only a few would really know.

  With Todd flying over rooftops, the party went on and on. There was music blaring from every street in Ashbourne. Almost every house light was on, barbecues were everywhere and all you could smell was the odour of cooked meat. The news stations were amongst the crowd now, getting interviews and exclusive shots that were being beamed live across the world. Yet, when they tried to get near to the Fenton’s residence they were stopped. The reporters would protest at first, but later they could also be seen eating hot dogs, drinking lager and wondering what all the fuss was about. Whatever it was being spread around Ashbourne and its neighbouring village no one knew, but it sure felt good. In fact, the only people who were not getting into the swing of things, were the two military style men, dressed in black, hidden in the background in Ashbourne. They were trained for this, but now it had got out of hand. Their organisation would have to act soon, before it got too late.

  Chapter 28

  Bill Fenton smoked a cigarette. He seemed to be smoking one after another. He leaned back in his chair with his feet on the table. He couldn't sleep. His mind kept racing back to the past, back to things that he didn’t want to remember. His father’s ‘visits’ after his mother had left him and who could really blame her, why oh why didn’t she take me with her. If she had, maybe things would have been better. He wondered what she looked like now. Was she still alive? What sort of life had she had after she left? Did his father haunt her, as he does him? He hoped so. She deserved the same torment. He blamed her. He blamed his father. He blamed everyone really. None of this was my fault he told himself.

  Only two people in his life had been special to him, Carol and Daniel. How he loved that girl was beyond comprehension. But they had both deserted him. They both loathed him and now they would have to pay. They didn’t understand, he said to himself and they should have. They had made him like this and it was them who would have to pay. Payback time was going to be, oh so sweet.

  The already stuffy room was full of smoke, as Bill lit one cigarette after another. It wasn’t cold, despite it being the early hours of the morning. He had a plan, well, not a plan as such. He had places to go. The next few weeks were going to be very busy, starting with a holiday tomorrow. He laughed to himself.

  He looked at the girls, who were cuddled up, sleeping. But he could tell their sleep wasn't a peaceful one. They had been shuffling a lot and, at one time, Katy had started mumbling in her sleep. He had tried to listen, but it was all mumbo jumbo. Katy had become a problem. She wasn’t part of his original plan. He had considered killing her, but the thought hadn’t lasted that long. She had been loyal to him, done everything that he asked perhaps, she could become useful on this venture. If not useful, well, she could always be there for sex. He reached into his holdall, pulled out a bottle of water. It was warm as he swallowed. He lit another cigarette. He would have to wake the girls up soon. It was time to go on their first trip. He was hungry. He had a few chocolate energy bars in his holdall. There was a twenty four hour garage and store open about a quarter of a mile away. They sold coffee. How he needed a coffee. He would have to get some. Coffee and sandwiches sounded good.

  He walked towards where the two girls were chained and shook them. They both awoke immediately as their sleep wasn’t deep. They looked at their kidnapper, as he leaned over and checked the handcuffs. He was happy they were secure.

  ‘I'm going to get us some breakfast.’ he said and turned away.

  He removed the panel and left the pizza hut, securing the panel behind him. It was dark, but the moon was bright tonight. He knew this area well and could reach the garage without really having to walk on the main road. There were plenty of cut-through’s he could take. It would be the long way round, but it would ensure he would not be seen. He walked into the bushes, just past where Mickey Bolan slept. Bill did not see Mickey and as Mickey slept, he did not hear Bill.

  Once they were sure Bill was out of earshot, both girls started to try and get the foot rail
from the counter. They pulled and pulled, turned themselves round and kicked at it with their feet, but it was no good. The foot rail stood firm. They decided to shout for help, but that didn’t last long. Katy knew where they were. She knew the area and unless someone was going to the deserted pizza place, there was no reason for anyone to pass, especially in the early hours of the morning. If anyone was there, they would probably be up to no good.

  They both slumped back against the counter, with their hands still securely cuffed to the bar. Their hands were hurting. Where they had pulled, red marks could be clearly seen, they were exhausted, both physically and mentally and both girls wanted to pee.

  ‘What do you think he's going to do?’ Wendy asked.

  ‘I don’t know.’ Katy replied.

  ‘You’re a part of this. You’re why I'm here. I don’t believe you don’t know.’

  ‘I brought you here, because he just wanted to meet his daughter-in-law. The deal was that you’d get to go back.’ She looked at Wendy. Wendy met her eyes, and she believed her.

  ‘Do you think he planned all of this?’ she asked.

  ‘I really don't know. He's planned something, somehow I don't think I was part of it.’