‘What’s a sprite?’ Jus asked.
Tomo ignored him and carried on.
‘That’s just the wind, dear, not a knock at the door,
Father’s protecting us, he’s out on the moor.
That’s not the scraping and sneaking of feet,
That’s just the rustling of sheep who can’t sleep.’
‘Stop it, Tomo,’ Jus said; he was suddenly pale.
Tomo ignored him. He stared straight forward, his recitation firm and quick, exorcising the rhyme out into the room.
‘Mother, is that father’s form at the door?
It’s taller and longer than ever before,
His face is all white, coat black like a loon,
His teeth glow like blades in the light of the moon.’
‘Fucking shut up!’ This time Jus punched Tomo in the arm, a swift, feral movement.
Tomo ignored that, too.
Silence again.
We all jumped as the dogs, who had been quiet for a time, all began to bark. My heart yammered and I could feel a swelling panic building inside me. I wanted my dad. I was twenty-one years old and I wanted my dad to come and make everything OK again.
‘Tomo?’ Jus said. ‘Tomo, man, what the fuck is wrong with them?’
We all looked in the direction of the dormitories where the baying was coming from.
Tomo got to his feet, dazed, as if he’d stepped out of a dream.
‘Come on,’ he said and turned his back on us, walking toward the sound of the dogs.
Jus and I followed him. What else were we to do? That panic in my stomach felt huge – a pulsating, swollen thing. I could feel tears – tears of all things – pricking behind my eyes. Why in heaven’s name had we come out here?
Tomo stopped at the door of the dormitory. He placed his hand on the doorknob. The dogs were going insane; we could hear their claws scraping on the floor. I pictured sharp teeth and pink gums, flecks of froth at their mouths.
‘Tomo mate,’ I said, ‘are they…’ I gestured to the door. ‘Are they going to be OK, when you…’
But I saw in his eyes that Tomo knew as much as I about what was going on here. With a hopeless shrug he turned the handle.
‘Hang on Tomo, mate, hang on!’ Jus shouted.
I braced myself for a flurry of teeth and fur to come bursting from behind the door.
What we saw was worse.
The lurchers were at the back of the dormitory, throwing themselves at the single-paned window. Their barks were frantic, furious. .
With our eyes we followed the furore of the hounds. And then we all saw it. All at the same time. Beyond the window, framed by the flailing fingers of the trees and the slash-marks of rain.
That shape.
That black figure.
It stood, looking in.
We all saw it, we all did. We all saw it look up and see us.
We saw it vanish into the night.
I tell myself that, yes, I’ll come here at night. That I’ll get a few others, perhaps. We’ll walk out here to the old Novak house and we’ll not be scared. We’ll prove once and for all to ourselves that there’s no monster, sprite, troll, hob or whatever. They say, if you don’t look at a monster, it grows. One minute there’s a single eye staring at you, and before you know it, there are twenty-one.
Even in the daylight, there’s darkness on Scarclaw.
I stand here in the daylight and look at the darkness.
Then I turn and walk on.
Not looking back.
Episode 3: Daddy’s Girl
—First of all, no one called him TJ. No one except him. He used to write it everywhere, though, in that stupid little graffiti writing, you know; that sort of squiggly nonsense that you can’t read? Well, yeah, that.
God, he was such a little dickhead.
Sorry. No, really, I am. I’m sorry that he’s gone, that he died. I know that his parents are probably listening to this and probably hate me now but … yeah, what can you do? He was a horrible little dickhead and I hated him.
That’s it really.
Welcome to Six Stories. I’m Scott King.
In the next six weeks, we will be looking back at the Scarclaw Fell tragedy in 1996, we’ll be looking back from six different perspectives; seeing the events that unfolded through six pairs of eyes.
In this week’s episode, we’ll talk to Eva Bickers, the daughter of Derek, and one of the teenagers who was on the trip to Scarclaw Fell Woodlands Centre in 1996.
Eva Bickers spent a significant amount of time with Tom Jeffries and will be able to offer fresh insight into what went on the day he disappeared.
At first, as you’ll hear, Eva is defensive and sketchy. She seems unwilling to say much about what went on that weekend. She has her reasons for this, as will become clear.
Today, Eva is thirty-four. She lives in a different part of the country from where she grew up, and it’s about as far as you can get from Scarclaw Fell. Who knows whether this is intentional or not? She does often travel to visit her father in her home town. We conduct our interview over Skype.
—You’ll have to excuse me; I’m a little … er … overwhelmed. I’m actually a big fan of yours.
—Oh really? Thanks, that’s very kind.
—Yeah. I used to listen to you religiously; every morning, when I was running.
—Did you ever think that what happened to you might one day become one of my series?
—You know, I almost … fantasised about it, if you know what I mean? Well, not fantasised as such, but I practised. I practised what I would say.
—So you’re prepared then?
—It’s funny, because now you’re here … well, not here … but now I’m talking to you in the flesh – well, not even in the flesh, you’ve got your hood thing on – but now I’m talking to you, I’m not sure I know what to say.
—I think sometimes it’s best to start from the start.
—Right. Where is that, though? I mean, where is the start of all this?
—Why don’t we talk about Rangers?
—What about them? It wasn’t their fault.
—No. That’s true.
—It’s been proved. Like, legally.
—I know, I—
—I know you’ve talked to my dad. It still haunts him, what happened. Sometimes he gets … I know it upsets him and I know he cries. Talking to you just re-opened the wound.
Maybe Eva is right. In fact, there’s not much ‘maybe’ about it. Put yourself in Derek Bickers’ shoes: no matter how understanding Tom Jeffries’ parents were about what happened, Derek will always blame himself in some way. I don’t doubt this is the same for Eva. She was close to Tom – closer than her father was – and I imagine she saw a different side to him than either Derek or Haris. So I proceed with tact; at any point, Eva could simply hang up, stop talking to me.
—How about we start from the beginning, I mean the very beginning.
—I don’t know … I…
—Your dad told me about what’s obviously a very treasured memory of his: you and Charlie chucking leaves at each other in the garden.
—Oh yeah. He always tells that one but I don’t actually remember it. It’s, like, my dad’s favourite story. I don’t know why. But yeah; that’s how young I was when it started I guess.
—You knew Charlie from that age?
—Younger. I think we shared changing mats when we were babies; our parents were friends; best friends.
—So what are your earliest memories of Rangers? Was Charlie there?
—Of course! Charlie and I were the founding fathers! Look, I think I sort of know what’s coming, and I’m going to say now: I don’t think Charlie had anything to do with what happened to Tom. I just don’t.
—Maybe we’re getting a little ahead of ourselves? I’m not here to make accusations.
—I know. I’m sorry. It’s just … it’s so hard. When I listen to your podcasts, I’m sometimes, like, screaming at the people
you talk to, to open up. But now I’m on the other side, it’s just so…
—Different?
—No. Yeah … I dunno. I’m just saying, OK? Charlie was a lot of things to a lot of different people. But he wasn’t a killer. That’s all I wanted to say, first off, OK?
—OK. Look, I’m not doing this to try and lead you to a place you don’t want to go.
—I know, I know. Like I say, I’m a fan, I know what you do and, like, I made up my mind about a few of the other cases you’ve looked at in your other series.
—Lots of people come to lots of different conclusions.
—Yeah, I get it. That’s the point. I know all that. I’m just saying, though … about Charlie.
—I understand. He was your friend.
—Yeah.
I do understand Eva’s caginess, and her devotion to her friend. The teenagers were too young to be named in the press at the time. However, by the time Tom Jeffries’ body was found, Charlie had turned sixteen, and, now being the only one who could be identified, he had a hard ride from the press – that is, once Haris Novak was ruled out as a suspect. Charlie got nowhere near the condemnation that Haris Novak received, though. But many articles leaned heavily on Charlie’s appearance and music tastes, as if that has something to do with what makes people kill.
Eva tells me that she stood up for Charlie then, just as she does today. She says, however, that she and Charlie, have not been in touch since.
—So you and Charlie grew up together?
—Yeah, we were always at theirs, or they came to us. We went on holiday a few times together, the families. Well, me and my mum and dad and Charlie and his mum. France, Italy; we went camping in the Black Forest in Germany when we were about eight – that’s probably the earliest solid memory of the two of us I have. It was amazing, magical; like something out of a story. I remember the smell of it. It smelled green. Yeah, those were good days. That was when it was just my family and Charlie’s. Before anyone else came along.
—What did it mean to you – that friendship; those excursions into the country, when you were that age?
—It was nice. Sorry, that’s a terrible word … It was a really precious thing that we did. Precious memories. I loved the outdoors, the woods, that sort of thing. I still do; even after what happened at Scarclaw. I still love the hills and forests. I’m thankful to my dad, you know, for making that effort when we were little. You see so many mums and dads who just don’t give a shit – just staring at their phones while the kids are charging around. It’s really sad.
—So you and Charlie, you said you were, what, the ‘founding fathers’?
—Yeah! That’s what we used to call ourselves, when we got older; when more kids started joining in.
—And growing older, sometimes it gets awkward with boys and girls who are friends, doesn’t it?
—Yeah, you’re right, it does get awkward; especially in school and stuff. That’s the thing, though: Charlie and I weren’t at the same school, so there wasn’t that, you know, that silliness, that ‘Ooh, who’s your boyfriend’. Neither of us would have given a shit anyway. I wasn’t into all that cliquey stuff at school. I was … I dunno … I used to get called ‘hippy’ a lot.
—Really? Why was that?
—Oh, because of the way I dressed; because I didn’t wear a Kappa tracksuit or have a gold chain around my neck. Honestly, I envy kids today with their clothes – lads in skinny jeans and that ‘geek chic’ stuff. Back in the nineties, you would have got battered for dressing like that!
—Did that ever happen to you? Did you experience violence?
—Nah. Me and Anyu used to get all that ‘Did you get your clothes from Oxfam?’ stuff, but we didn’t care.
—Anyu Kekkonen, she was a school friend of yours, wasn’t she?
—Yes. Me and Anyu became friends in, like, year eight or something. She’d just joined the school and didn’t have anyone. I just started talking to her, you know? That was the other thing about being in Rangers; you were just so, like, open to other people; so non-judgemental. When there’s a new kid in school, no one wants to talk to them; people are so scared of being seen as different, like some of that newness might rub off on them. Anyu was a little bit foreign – her mum’s Inuit and she has that … that look about her, if you know what I mean: dark skin and sort of oriental eyes. Not a bad thing, she just … Anyway; so I didn’t give a shit; I just went right on over and started talking to her, and that was that.
—Anyu started coming to the Rangers meetings, didn’t she?
—Yeah, eventually.
—Eventually?
—Well, yeah. But that wasn’t her, or her mum. People say that Eska was a bit funny, but she really wasn’t. She was just … I think she often felt a bit out of place. I don’t think she ever settled in England, if you know what I mean? She was very traditional. She had some crazy stories…
—Stories?
—Yeah, like, folk tales from up there, the Arctic.
I notice Eva does this when she speaks about her friends: she’ll start, introduce them, and then suddenly clam up. I understand that she’s protecting them. But it does make me wonder why she’s doing it, when no one in the case of Tom Jeffries was ever charged and his death was deemed accidental.
Perhaps Eva is worried that, when the podcast airs, it might kick up the whole thing again and the four of them will be under scrutiny from the media. I don’t know. I’ve learned it’s best not to push too hard when people don’t want to talk about certain things.
— So was Anyu’s mother OK with her going off with you lot?
—I think she was, but only, like, halfway. Anyu was her only real link to this country – the language and everything. I think Eska found it hard when Anyu wasn’t around; she didn’t have people to talk to. She wasn’t, like, overbearing or strict or anything. I went for tea at their house loads of times and Eska was lovely. It must have been so hard.
— Your Dad says Anyu was quite reserved. Was that just with adults, or with you kids, too?
—You know, I’d like to say that we drew her out of her shell, but Anyu didn’t really have a shell; she was just … it was just that some people found her inscrutable. Most people actually. She had … there’s a good term for it now, isn’t there? ‘Resting bitch-face’ – when your natural look is a bit … grumpy. Anyu was more … I think people found her aloof. But she wasn’t. It was just the way she came across. She was beautiful as well, in a really unique way. I think a lot of people thought that. Anyu used to get so annoyed that loads of the boys were too scared to talk to her.
—Your dad told me that Anyu was the ‘sensible one’ in the group – the level head.
—Ha! Yeah, that’s totally right. She was dead smart, too. If we got lost and stuff, it was always Anyu who knew what to do. If one of us drank too much at a party and was sick, Anyu would be the one holding back our hair and giving us water.
—So Anyu didn’t join in with all that?
—Oh yeah, Anyu did it, too. She was just … you know how some people are really just ‘cool’, like in control all the time: that was Anyu. She could put away more vodka than any of us, but she was never a mess with it, if you know what I mean? She was level-headed even then. I was so jealous of that!
—Was there a lot of drinking and stuff going on during your outings?
—See, this is what the media and all them tried to do at the time. They made out like Rangers was some hippy free-for-all, where kids were allowed to smoke crack and worship the devil. But it wasn’t like that at all. You show me one group of teenagers – normal teenagers – who don’t behave like that. The thing with us is, we were a bit more … sensible … I don’t know if that’s the right word. Let’s just say we weren’t troublemakers. We didn’t go round breaking things and fighting. We just kept ourselves to ourselves.
—Was Scarclaw Fell a place where you did it most?
—Well, we did do that sort of thing there; but we did it at home
, too. There were parties all the time; weekends and all that. Scarclaw Fell was a good place because we were with our best friends and – it sounds daft to say it now – but like, my dad was there too, so we all felt safe there. That’s why, when Tom went missing, it was just so … It just destroyed us. It ruined it all.
—Aside from you, Anyu and Charlie, there was another member of the group? Brian Mings.
—Oh, Brian. Yeah, he was there, too. He was always there.
When Eva talks about Brian Mings, I notice a shift in her voice. It’s very slight; probably unconscious. Her face changes, too – again, only slightly. Her smile seems more pronounced … almost forced.
—Can you tell me a bit about Brian?
—Well yeah, I suppose. There’s not much to tell.
—He joined Rangers about the same time as Anyu, right?
—Correct. His mum was a friend of Sally’s or something … I don’t know.
—You don’t know?
—Well, yes, I do; I do know. His mum was a friend of Sally Mullen and he just … he just joined, like the rest of us. That was all, really.
There is a bit of an awkward silence at this point, and I wonder if Eva wants a break. She’s been happy to talk to me about her friends and the early days, but it feels like, as more of the group appear, the closer we get to Tom Jeffries, the more reluctant she is to open up. We sign out, and I call Eva again an hour or so later.
—Are you OK?
—Yeah, I’m fine. Sorry, it’s just that it’s been a long time since … since all this, and I don’t want to get things wrong. I don’t want to come across in a bad way and I don’t want to misrepresent people, do you know what I mean?
—I do, I honestly do. You’ve come across fine. You’ve heard my series before and you know that there are no conclusions drawn – not by me anyway – that it’s all about honesty.
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