Songbird

by Josephine Cox

  Songbird

  Josephine Cox

  All alone now, with no audience and no wickedness waiting for her, she danced in the twilight, lost herself in the song, and for a while she was incredibly free. But always in the wings, he was there watching, waiting. In the riverside town of Bedford, four students can hear the haunting voice of a woman singing. The beautiful melody is coming from their neighbour – a reculsive creature who never opens the door to anyone or leaves her home in daylight.

  They have no way of knowing that the woman next door, Madeleine Delaney is driven by a dangerous memory that for over twenty years has controlled her meagre existence…

  Madeleine’s angelic voice and striking looks may capture the hearts of many. But she only has eyes for club owner, Steve Drayton – a devastatingly handsome but terrifying man.

  Then one night she witnesses a horrific crime, and her life is irrevocably changed forever. The kindness and friendship of one girl – Ellen, rescues Madeleine from utter devastation. But in order to survive, they must flee London, leaving behind those they dearly love, and danger is following them wherever they go…

  Josephine Cox

  Songbird

  Copyright © 2008 by Josephine Cox

  This book is for my Ken, as always

  PART ONE

  BedfordTown, 1996

  A Caged Bird

  One

  Sometimes, she could make herself believe that the bad things had never happened. And then there were the other times, when she could feel his breath against her face and his hands around her neck, squeezing, choking the life out of her. She could see the loathing in his eyes as the darkness enveloped her.

  It was Alice – her dearest friend – who had saved her from the dark. Because of that fine, brave woman, her own life had been spared, albeit at a terrible cost.

  Through the years that followed, the horror of that night had never left her. She remained ever-vigilant. The darkness kept her prisoner, and the daylight was her enemy. And on the rare occasions when she must go out during the daytime, with every step she was looking over her shoulder, anxious to get back and lock herself inside the house alone with her fears.

  It was a lonely, forsaken existence. Her treasured collection of records and tapes, and the music she heard on the TV and radio, were her only consolation.

  For Madeleine Delaney, once known as “The Songbird,” music was her life.

  The beauty of nature also gave her immense pleasure. Come the dawn she would hear the birds welcome a new day, and when the sun lit the skies, she would sit at her open window and feel the gentle breeze on her face – until a passing stranger glanced up from the road outside and frightened her away.

  In her isolation, Maddy had come to love the seasons like never before. Winter had its own special beauty, with snow-covered trees and laden boughs that hung their heads as though in shame. Her heart sang with the first appearance of the tiny robin redbreast that hopped about her front yard and peeped up at her with bright beady eyes. Below her window, the children threw snowballs in the street, laughing and screeching, wrapped in coats and scarves, oblivious to the driving chill of a winter’s day.

  Lighter of heart, she would sit and watch and imagine she was down there with them, a child again, with not a care in the world.

  Inevitably, the same old question would burn its way into her brain: How did you end up alone and unwanted like this, trapped in a self-imposed prison in a rundown house here in the town of Bedford, so very far from your roots?

  The answer was simple: she had fallen in love with the wrong man, and from the moment she met him, her hitherto contented life began to unravel.

  Sometimes, she wondered if she would ever find the courage to venture out, live life to the full again, and face the consequences, whatever they might be. Oh, how wonderful, to love and to laugh – and not be afraid any more.

  Many times she had promised herself she could do it, but seventeen years had come and gone, and now she felt more lonely than she could ever have imagined.

  Yet in a strange kind of way, she felt safe in her solitude, because if she kept herself to herself, she could never be hurt again. Not like before.

  “Who’s that?” Curious at the sound of laughter from the street outside, she went across the room and peered out, hiding herself behind the curtain. A group of young people came jostling down the pavement, laughing and joking, full of life. She counted six of them; three boys and three girls. They were the students who lived next door. She had seen some of them come and go before.

  Her attention was drawn to one particular young woman dressed in skin-tight jeans and a Levi’s denim jacket. Elfin-like, with a cap of fair hair, she had an appealing smile, and when she laughed, it seemed to come from the heart.

  Shifting the curtain to get a clearer look at this happy young thing, Maddy was shocked when suddenly, one of the boys said something and they all looked up. The fair-haired girl smiled right at her.

  In the blink of an eye, something passed between the two of them; and Maddy felt a strong sense of kinship with her.

  Maddy immediately dropped the curtain and backed away as the friends ran up the steps to the shabby student house next door.

  The fair-haired girl was the last to go in. Lingering on the step she turned her head to glance back up at Maddy again, but seeing how the timid woman had disappeared, she went skipping up the step to join her pals, unaware of the trauma she had caused.

  That was me once upon a time, Maddy mused. Young and pretty, full of confidence – with loyal friends and a song in my heart. She paused to remember. Oh, but we had such good times then, sharing our hopes for the future, our impossible dreams. She gave a half-smile, which lit up her sad face. Not a day went by when we didn’t laugh out loud.

  But those days and those people were long gone now. Her heart thickened with nostalgia as she thought, I don’t suppose I will ever see any of them again.”

  When she had started performing at the Soho cabaret club, all those years ago, she had fallen deeply in love with its owner, and her friends had drifted away, but not Alice. Alice was special – always there, always watching over her, like the mother Maddy had lost in her teens. How terrible, then, that on that fateful night, darling Alice had paid the ultimate price for befriending her.

  “May God forgive me,” Maddy murmured aloud, the tears threatening to fall. “Why couldn’t I see his badness? How could I have been so blind!”

  But it was poor Alice who haunted her waking hours and tortured her sleep. Alice… “Dear Alice.” Her heart hardened. “So many times you tried to warn me,” Maddy told the empty room, “and I never listened.” A deep shivering sigh marbled her words. “I know you forgave me, but as long as I live, I can never forgive myself.”

  Closing her eyes, she thought of the lovers she had known before she met Steve – good and honest young men who had cherished her and wanted the best for her. And then she had become infatuated with that cruel, merciless man, who had used her and abused her for his own ends.

  If it hadn’t been for him, she might have found fame and fortune, traveled the world and made a decent life for herself. And through it all, Alice would have been right beside her.

  That man had taken her confidence and her hopes, and left her in a dark place where there was no laughter, no love. She had fought him – and lost. Now, there was no fight left in her.

  Like a wounded animal, she hid away, licking her wounds, afraid of the future and what it might bring.

  Weary to her soul, Maddy went to the dresser and picked up the tiny mirror there, shocked by the image that looked back at her. Her long dark hair was carelessly scraped back with a rubber band. Her face was pale and dog-tired, and void of makeup: no lipstick to shape and warm the generous
lips; no shadow to accentuate her once-sparkling dark eyes. “I look like an old woman,” she sighed. “I never realized there was so much gray in my hair.”

  Desolate, she returned to sit in the chair. Through the bedroom wall, she could hear the low murmurings of conversation from next door. Maddy didn’t mind the noise, or the occasional bursts of loud music. It was comforting to know that outside these walls, life still went on – for others if not for her.

  She wondered about that pretty young girl and her friendly smile. Did she have a devoted family – a lover? A plan of sorts for the future? Maddy hoped so.

  Most of all, she hoped that the young woman would be wise enough to avoid making the same mistakes that she herself had made…

  Two

  Unaware that their next-door neighbor had been so affected by their arrival, the students settled down to enjoy their supper, bought from the chippie on the corner. Dave Wright, who was studying Physics, called their attention to the new member of staff at the college. “Hey, that new Maths lecturer is a bit of all right! Do you agree, lads?” With an appreciative eye for the women, Dave was a real Jack the Lad. “Wouldn’t mind a bit of private tuition from her.” He gave a long, exaggerated sigh.

  “Behave yourself!” Betsy was the elfin-like creature with a soft heart and big smile. Thrusting his bag of saveloy, chips and two pickled onions into his hands, she asked, “What on earth would Poppy say if she heard you talking like that?” Poppy was a Geography student at the college; she was also Dave’s current girlfriend.

  Taking a large bite out of his saveloy, Dave threw himself into the nearest armchair and mumbled, “What she doesn’t know won’t hurt her.”

  “Honestly, Dave, I don’t know why you say those things, because you know you would never cheat on her.”

  Dave nodded and grinned. “You’re right. By the way, have you got any tomato ketchup?”

  “You’re a prat, sticking to one woman. Play the field, that’s what I say.” Hard-headed and self-opinionated, Darren Brown was a frequent visitor to the house. With his selfish manner and constant bickering, however, he was not always wholeheartedly welcomed.

  “Treat ’em mean and keep ’em keen,” he went on, stabbing at the batter on his cod. “There’s hundreds of ’em out there, all gagging for it.” Good-looking and proud of it, Darren was never short of female company.

  Used as she was to his callous remarks, Betsy now took stock of him. “And what about Ruth?” she asked. “I thought you said you two might get married after college? That’s what she thinks, anyway.”

  Darren waved a chip in the air in a dismissive gesture. “They were just words… they meant nothing. Ruth is a passing fancy, that’s all.”

  “You don’t deserve to have a decent girlfriend,” she told him bluntly. “If Ruth knew what you were really like, she’d run a mile.”

  All the same, Betsy could see how the girls might be drawn to Darren. Tall, with well-honed muscles and wild dark hair, he had an easy way with him, and when he turned those broody brown eyes on the girls, they simply fell at his feet. “One of these days you’ll come unstuck,” she warned him. “I can see it coming a mile off.”

  He shrugged. “Sounds to me like you’re jealous.”

  At this, she burst out laughing. “Huh! You should be so lucky.”

  “Never mind the new Maths lecturer – you can give me tuition any time you like, Daz.” That was Abigail the dreamer, whose room they were in. Scatter-brained and vulnerable, she could see no harm in him.

  “Sorry, sweetheart, you’re not my type.” Sharp and to the point, he did not mince his words.

  “So, who is your type?” That was Judith; hard-nosed and ambitious, she had met Abigail in college and invited herself to the house on many occasions. Also, she had long fancied a relationship with Darren; though as yet he had not made a move.

  “Well now, let me see.” Thrusting a chip into his mouth, the arrogant young man chewed and talked at the same time. “Long shapely legs, big firm boobs and a small enough mind not to ask any questions. Oh, and she mustn’t worry about being dumped the day after the night before, if you know what I mean?”

  “Big boobs and a small mind, eh?” Judith gave a groan. “That lets me out then.”

  Darren surveyed her slim, boyish figure. “Oh, I’m sure I could fit you in if you really wanted.”

  “Are your fish cakes and chips all right, Rob?” Betsy turned her attention to the only one of them who had not joined in the banter. “If they’re cold, I can put them in the microwave to warm them up.”

  “Thanks all the same, Betsy, but they’re fine. Besides, I was that hungry I’d have eaten a scabby dog!” Not exceptionally good-looking like Daz, or the life and soul of any party like his best friend Dave, Robin was both studious and likeable. In his early twenties, he was a young man going places; studying medicine and working in a big London hospital. This evening, he had driven over in his elderly car to see Dave, whom he had known since their school days. From boyhood, nothing had swerved him from his goal to become a doctor, though his father was bitterly disappointed that his only son was not going to follow him into the established family business.

  “Right then.” Scrambling out of his chair, Darren strode across the room to sort through the records. “Jude, how about opening another bottle of wine and I’ll put some good tunes on. There’s a Smiths’ LP in here somewhere, isn’t there?”

  Judith objected. “Oh God, Morrissey is so depressing. Let’s listen to the Police instead. Oh, and that reminds me. Susie borrowed my Alanis Morissette tape. I’ll have to get it back before she lends it on, like she did with my Madonna one.”

  “Hey! Don’t start taking over,” Robin joked. “Unless you fancy paying Abigail’s rent between the two of you?”

  “I wouldn’t mind paying rent if I could live here,” Judith retaliated. “It’s got to be better than living in hall.”

  “I second that!” Daz declared, lighting a roll-up. “I can’t see why you lot won’t let us share with you. When all’s said and done, there are four bedsits in this house. I could double up with you, Dave, and Judith could double up with one of you girls.”

  “Not a snowdrop’s chance in hell, mate.” In a light-hearted way, Dave made his feelings known. “I’m not doubling up with anybody. I left four brothers behind at home, and I’ve got my own room at long last. And I am not giving it up for love nor money.”

  Betsy and Abigail were of the same mind. “At the moment, we can chuck you out when we’ve had enough of you,” they joked.

  “Yeah,” Dave said, laughingly addressing himself to Darren. “Gawd help us if we had to get up each morning and see your ugly mug.”

  In no time at all, the Police were belting out their best, followed by some vintage Stones, and for a while, the friends drank the wine and chatted and smoked – until Darren decided to leap onto a chair and give a performance of his own, playing air guitar and screeching at the top of his voice along to “Black Sugar.”

  “Put a sock in it,” Dave begged him. “You’ll have all the cats round.”

  Abigail threw a cushion at him and Robin threatened to douse him with cold water. But nothing stopped him, until Betsy pulled the plug from the wall.

  “Party poopers!” Climbing down from the chair, Daz went storming off into the kitchen in search of more booze.

  “Does anybody mind if I choose the next record?” That was Betsy.

  “I mind!” Daz returned to his seat empty-handed. “I’m not in the mood for listening to one of your soppy love songs.”

  “Too bad,” she told him, “because whether you like it or not, we’re all having a turn at choosing.”

  She picked out a Nat King Cole ballad, “When I Fall In Love,” and it came as no surprise when Darren immediately protested, “Bloody hell! Do we have to listen to that rubbish?”

  “Shut up, misery.” Judith was rapidly going off him. She gave him a shove. “If that’s what Betsy wants, that’s fine by the rest
of us, and if you don’t like it, you can go home, you awkward sod.”

  Folding his arms, Darren slouched deeper into his chair and pointedly started doing the crossword in the local free paper.

  As the smooth silky tones of Nat King Cole flowed through the room, the girls sang along.

  Unaware that Robin was watching her with fond eyes, Betsy let the song wash over her. She loved Nat King Cole’s sensuous voice, and the words were so beautiful. Abigail had bought her the Greatest Hits CD last Christmas, and it was one of Betsy’s prized possessions.

  It was when Judith stopped singing to cadge a cigarette from Darren, that Betsy thought she heard something. “Ssh!” Sitting bolt upright in her chair, she called for silence, and when everyone was attentive she said, “Listen – can you hear that?”

  Against all his instincts, Darren found himself listening too, “Hey! There is somebody else singing…” He looked suspiciously from one to another. “Come on… what are you lot playing at?”

  The rich contralto voice of a woman sailed through the wall, as she sang the song again, to herself. Even muffled, like this, the voice was hauntingly beautiful.

  “Who on earth is that?” Robin asked into the hush.

  Dave voiced all their thoughts. “It seems to be coming from next door,” he said.

  Judith laughed, breaking the spell. “What! You can’t mean that strange old woman up at her window.”

  “Never!” Darren was adamant. “I should think the best she could manage would be a croak. She gives me the heebie-jeebies, she does, spying on us from behind her net curtains, and creeping about in the dark.” He gave an exaggerated shiver. “There’s something dead weird about her. The Shadow-Thing…” With an evil grin, he made moving gestures with the tips of his fingers.

  Even Abigail had to agree. “She is a bit frightening. I’ve never seen her out in daylight, yet as soon as it’s dark she goes scurrying down the street, hiding in the corners like a little hobbit.”