‘I … I killed him, don’t you see?’
‘Killed who?’ he asked, confused.
‘Rick, of course.’ She punched the wall in frustration, as if maddened by his stupidity.
‘What d’you mean, killed Rick?’ He had a sudden horrific image of her pushing the boy under, holding him down until he … No. Unthinkable. And anyway Andrew would have seen her do it, or Penny known that she was there. He wiped her eyes with his handkerchief, as he had done when she was small. ‘What are you trying to tell me, Pippa? I thought Rick went swimming with Andrew.’
‘He did.’
‘But you were there as well, you mean?’
She didn’t answer, just grabbed his handkerchief and scoured her face with it.
‘Pippa, I’ve got to get this straight. Were you anywhere near that lake when the accident happened?’ He kept his tone deliberately calm. One of them must retain control.
She tried to pull away from him, but he kept hold of her arm. ‘You haven’t answered my question.’
‘You don’t understand! No one understands.’
‘But how can we understand, when you won’t explain or talk to us?’
She struggled against his restraining hand, then sat back on the wall, weary and defeated. There was silence for a while. The evening, too, seemed tired; its former verve now flagging; the gold and scarlet in the sky fading into a duller pinkish-grey. Daniel shut his eyes. He hadn’t slept at all last night. Memories of Juliet began to seep back into his mind: erotic, traitorous images threatening to engulf him. Then, suddenly, he was aware of Pippa tensing, and became instantly alert. She was about to speak again.
‘There’s this … boy at school,’ she began, her voice so low he could barely make it out.
‘Yes?’ he said encouragingly. She seemed to have changed the subject, but he must persuade her to continue, whatever she was saying.
‘He’s called … Rick.’
‘Rick?’
‘Yes.’
Another silence.
‘Don’t you think that’s odd?’
‘How d’ you mean?’
‘Well, most Richards aren’t called Rick.’
‘Aren’t they?’ He tried to keep the impatience from his voice. They were going even further off the subject. If Pippa was involved in some way in the drowning, perhaps she couldn’t cope with the guilt, and was simply trying to divert him.
‘No,’ she insisted, ‘they’re not. In fact there are only two Richards in the whole of our year, and they’re both called Richard, never Rick or Rich. There is a Rich in year seven, and a Ricky who’s just left, but the only Rick is the one I’m talking about – and your Rick, here. Well, I think that’s sort of … weird. Don’t you?’
‘Frankly, darling, no.’ He was still wincing from the impact of ‘his’ Rick. ‘I mean, Rick’s a pretty ordinary name – not like Zachary or Silas or something. Anyway,’ he prompted, shading his eyes to watch the last glints of the sun, ‘what about him?’
She swallowed. ‘He … he said he’d kill me if I …’
‘He said what?’ His grip tightened on her arm. Perhaps he hadn’t heard right.
‘Don’t interrupt. Please. This is very … difficult. You see, I promised I’d never tell. He made me swear this oath. And he said he’d kill me if I broke it – push me on to the railway line just as a train was coming. And I knew he really meant it.’ She peered nervously over her shoulder, as if expecting retribution even here. ‘It got harder and harder, having to be so careful about what I said – you know, in case I let out something by mistake. I had to stop and think before I said anything to anyone, which was an awful sort of strain. So, in the end, it seemed safest not to speak at all. But that was hard as well. Especially as he just wouldn’t leave me alone. I began to really hate him – so much, I wanted to kill him.’ She put both hands across her mouth, appalled by the admission; continued speaking through her fingers, indistinctly.
‘Then when we got here, this other Rick was … waiting for me. It was like the Rick at school had sent him to spy on me, or prove I’d never get away from him. Oh, I know they’re nothing like each other. Rick’s sixteen and he’s huge – not just tall, but fat. He’s got a sort of flabby face and these great big hands and feet. And he writes stuff on his arm in biro – you know, swearwords and threats of what he plans to do. And he rolls up his sleeve and flashes it at me, laughing in this horrid sneery way – though not if any teachers are around. He’s all smarmy with the teachers, especially Miss O’Donovan. Anyway, he made me do these … these awful things. Like steal money from your wallet so he could buy cigarettes. And he kept asking me if you and Mum had any drink at home. And when I finally said yes, he told me to bring it in my school-bag and meet him outside Smith’s. So I smuggled a bottle of whisky from the sideboard, but I was terrified you’d notice it had gone.’
She glanced at him, still fearing disapproval, but went rushing on again in an urgent panicked voice, not even pausing for breath. ‘And he always took my dinner-money, so I couldn’t have any lunch. He’d just say “mine“, and hold his hand out. And he took my watch – the one you gave me for Christmas. You can’t have forgotten that. You were ever so cross because I said I’d lost it. And then I lost my trainers, and you told me off for being careless. Well, that was Rick as well. And if ever I stood up to him, or tried to stop him taking things, he’d remind me of the railway line – describe what it would feel like to be electrocuted on the rails, then be run over by a train going at ninety miles an hour.’
‘But Pippa, this … this is monstrous!’ Daniel’s cry of outrage was submerged in her next words. She was still reeling off her story, too fast for him to interrupt. The dam had finally burst, and all the things she had kept locked away inside were pouring, flooding out.
‘Emma was the only one who knew. Well, she didn’t know exactly, but she kept seeing Rick sneak up to me, so she asked me what was going on. At first she thought I fancied him.’ Pippa screwed up her face in disgust. ‘And because she was my best friend, Rick threatened her as well. He said he knew this Brixton gang and they’d beat her up on her way home from school, if she dared to open her mouth. Emma was so scared, she wouldn’t go round with me any more. So I was always on my own. And then he started following me home. That was really frightening because he …’
‘I’ll kill the boy!’ Daniel exploded. He gripped the wall, struggling to regain control. He would be no help to Pippa if he diverted his own guilty conscience into wild attacks on Rick. ‘But we asked if you were being bullied,’ he said, voice brusque from rage and shame. ‘You must remember, surely. And we asked the Head the same thing. And Miss O’Donovan. Why ever didn’t you tell someone?’
‘How could I?’ she yelled, her own fury surging up again. ‘You haven’t heard a single thing I’ve said! I’ve just told you, haven’t I? Rick threatened to kill me if I said a word to anyone. But now your Rick has died instead. And it was me who killed him, because I wanted to kill the other Rick – Rick Scarth, he’s called.’ She shuddered at the name. ‘I’ve never hated anyone before, but I hated him. I actually prayed for him to die. And he did die. But he was the wrong one, wasn’t he? Except I hated your Rick, too, just because of his name. And because I couldn’t get away from him – not even here, not even in the holidays. It brought it all back again – the awful things he’d made me do – other things I haven’t even dared tell you yet. And the hate itself. Hate’s horrible. It changes you. And I hated you, as well, because you sent me to the school. And because you hadn’t the faintest idea of what was going on. I felt you ought to see. That if you cared about me, you would see. But you were always so busy with your work and stuff. And when we came here to the camp, I hated you even more. You kept sucking up to Rick and trying to get me to like him too. And the way you collected all those revolting bones. That was almost the worst thing of all. Rick said if I told on him, I’d end up as bones. And then he drew a coffin, and wrote my name on it.’
‘Oh, Pippa, I … I’m …’ He had no words. There were none. He longed to put his arms around her, to comfort her, commiserate, tell her how outraged he felt, how bitterly ashamed, but she had rebuffed him once already. She hated him – her father – and with reason. He was aghast at his own blindness and stupidity, wounded by her accusations, yet unable to deny them. It had been him who’d sent her to the school, championing it against Penny’s reservations. He’d been more concerned about his daughter’s academic prowess than about her happiness. Even during the last few months, when she was patently distressed, he had still nagged about her homework, pressured her to work hard, to meet his expectations. And yes, he was so busy with his own affairs, so preoccupied with petty problems, he hadn’t seen the major problem overshadowing her life. Both he and Penny had remained in total ignorance of her weeks and weeks of torment. But there was less excuse for him, especially since his visit to Greystone Court, where he’d been forced to confront the trauma of his past which had led to his own self-imposed silence as a boy. Yet when Pippa had stopped speaking for a very similar reason, he’d failed to recognize the parallel. And how ironic that he had blamed his parents for their crass insensitivity, when he was every bit as culpable himself. It was like Sayers all over again. He had condemned him as a brute, then assaulted Juliet with much the same brutality.
Juliet! He gave a stifled exclamation as it dawned on him that Pippa didn’t know about her, knew nothing about his affair. The ‘someone’ who was threatening her was not him, as he’d assumed, but a school bully called Rick Scarth.
‘Don’t cry!’ said Pippa, breaking off her torrent of words to stare in consternation at his tears.
‘I … I’m not.’
She pressed the damp and crumpled handkerchief into his hands, then tried awkwardly to put her arms around him. ‘Oh, please don’t cry! I can’t bear it. I don’t hate you, honestly. Not now – not any more. I’m just so glad I’ve told you. I couldn’t go on any longer keeping it all to myself.’
He held her tight against him, hardly knowing who was comforting whom. Around them, dusk was falling; the sharp lines blurring between hill and sky, child and parent, innocence and guilt.
‘I’m so desperately sorry, Pippa. It was my fault – you’re right.’
‘No, it wasn’t. I only said that because I was so upset. Because I thought I’d killed Rick, and I wanted to blame you, instead.’
He shook her almost roughly. ‘Rick isn’t dead! Let’s get that straight. He may pull through. They can do fantastic things in intensive care.’ Suddenly, he remembered the injured wood-pigeon, which had accompanied him on his headlong drive to Wales. It had lain passive on the seat beside him until a few miles past the border, when it started threshing around, clearly struggling to escape. He had pulled up in a lay-by and unwrapped it from the creased and smelly jacket, then walked with it to a gateway and held it out at arm’s length, willing it to fly. It stood unsteadily a moment, its feet scrabbling on his palm, then, with a flurry of grey feathers, it launched itself from his hands. At first it dipped and floundered, as if it had lost the power of flight, then slowly seemed to gather strength, rising higher and higher until it wheeled away towards the distant hills.
He was about to tell Pippa the story, but decided it was too complicated, not to mention facile. There was no connection between bird and boy, and despite his optimistic assertion about Rick not being dead, he had no proof of that whatever. If Rick had drowned, then it was up to him to help Pippa cope, not offer her false comfort in the form of happy endings.
‘Listen, darling, even if the news is … bad, you’ve got to understand that you’re not to blame in any way at all. It was an accident – pure chance. Like the fact they were both called Rick.’
‘But I’m still scared Rick Scarth will get me. What if he finds out that I’ve told you?’
‘How could he? And anyway, I’ve no intention of letting you go back there. We’ll find you a much nicer school – a smaller one – just girls, if you prefer. You can choose it this time.’
She hurled herself upon him, hugging him so fiercely he was almost knocked off balance. The intensity of that hug was proof how much she hated the place – as much as he had hated Greystone Court.
‘I can really truly leave? You promise?’
‘I promise. We’ll go home tomorrow and start looking at prospectuses. And as for Scarth, I’ll go and see Mrs Whittaker and insist that he’s expelled.’
‘No!’ She drew away from him, shrank back against the wall.
‘But he must be punished, darling. We can’t let him get away with it.’
She didn’t answer, just grazed her nails along the stone with a fretful rasping sound.
‘He sounds really dangerous, Pippa, making threats like that. It’s horrendous, inexcusable. After all, we’ve got to think of the other children. You’ll be out of harm’s way, but he’s bound to pick on someone else.’
‘I know, but …’
‘But what?’
She continued scrabbling with her nails, dislodging shale and stones. ‘Emma knows his father. She says he’s horrid, too, and terribly cruel to Rick. He’s even … No – I’m not allowed to tell you. I promised Emma I wouldn’t.’
‘All right, so he’s had a rough time himself. But I still think we have a duty to …’ His proposal petered out. He had just recalled the healer’s words about the ‘someone’ who was threatening Pippa – ‘someone with his own problems, who is suffering in his turn.’ So JB had been right – once more. But how could he have known about the sufferings of some vile young thug in Wandsworth, unless he possessed mysterious powers? And he, the rational Daniel Hughson, didn’t believe in mysterious powers. He sat in silence, utterly confused. Where in God’s name did his duty lie? To ensure this unspeakable bully was hauled up before the authorities and punished really severely, or to heed Pippa’s plea for mercy, and prevent violence seeding violence in a never-ending chain? His mind felt far too small for all the emotions seething through it – vindictiveness and pity, anger and compassion, and an overriding fear that he might choose wrongly again. He and Pippa were sitting alone on a remote deserted hillside, yet more and more wan figures seemed to be clustering around them, arguing their case: Rick Scarth fighting his father; Rick Harris fighting for life; his parents seeking to justify themselves; even Sayers pleading some piteous past suffering. How did he resolve it all, how help Pippa best, without incurring still more guilt?
‘I led you to the lake myself. You needed to drown your fear, wash away your pain and grief from the past.’
He rose slowly to his feet. He didn’t believe in disembodied voices, any more than in irrational powers. Yet the voice was unmistakable – the healer’s intonation, exactly as in London. So why hadn’t Pippa reacted, or so much as raised her head?
‘Pippa,’ he said urgently, taking both her hands. ‘Let’s … let’s go up to the lake.’
‘The lake! No fear! I couldn’t bear to go anywhere near it.’
‘It’ll be all right. I know.’
‘But Rick almost drowned there, Daniel! It’s the most beastly hateful place.’
‘No. It’s not. It needn’t be.’
‘And anyway, it’s getting dark. We won’t be able to see a thing.’
‘There’s a moon. And we’ll get torches. I’ll go back now and fetch them, tell Penny we’re all right. No, you stay here. I shan’t be long.’ If she accompanied him to the tent, Penny would forbid her to go out again; would insist on her going straight to bed after such a hideous day. And as for his plan to take Pippa to the lake, he knew she’d refuse point-blank; regard it as reckless in the extreme. But there were more important things than sleep, or even safety.
‘You won’t be frightened, will you, darling, if I leave you for ten minutes? The camp’s only just down there. See the lights?’
She nodded. ‘I’ll be okay, don’t worry. But I still don’t understand why we’re going to the lake. What for?’
‘Just trust me,’ he pleaded. ‘I know you’ve no reason to, but trust me anyway. And don’t move from here. You promise?’
She shrugged. ‘All right.’
He ran downhill towards the tents. The light was nearly gone, but he could make out just enough to see his way. Smoke was rising from Rainbow Lodge, and a buzz of earnest voices, but he raced on past and into Penny’s tent. She looked pale and strained, her voice snappish as he crouched beside her.
‘Whatever happened? You’ve been gone for simply ages! I’ve spent the whole day worrying – first Rick, then Pippa, and now you.’
‘I’m all right.’
‘And Pippa?’
‘She’s lots better now. I’ve managed to get her to talk.’
‘Really, Daniel?’ She sat up expectantly. ‘What did she say? And where is she? You didn’t leave her in that dreadful spooky cottage, did you?’
‘No. She’s waiting for me up the hill. I’m going back there now.’
‘I’ll come too.’ She scrambled to her feet, started buttoning up her jacket.
‘No, better not.’
‘What for? I want to see her. And aren’t you going to tell me what she said?’
‘Later. There’s a tremendous amount to tell, Penny. We can talk all night, if you want. But first I need a little longer on my own with her.’
‘But why? Can’t it wait till the morning? It’s dark outside and she must be dead on her feet. For goodness sake let’s bring her back and let her get some rest.’
‘No, it must be now. I can’t explain, but trust me.’ That phrase again. Why should they bloody trust him, when he hadn’t earned their trust? A lot of things would have to change, he realized – not just Pippa’s school. He unrolled the double sleeping-bag, plumped up both the pillows. ‘You go to bed. You sound dead tired as well.’
‘I am. Absolutely whacked. It’s the worry more than anything.’
‘There’s been no more news of Rick, I take it?’
‘It’s still touch and go, I’m afraid. Zoe phoned the hospital half an hour ago.’
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